#chososonlyone

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“C’mon, sweetie, we’ve been doing this for the past half hour. Let’s just pull it up, we’re running late–”

“No..! Mommy does it in two like this!” Tsumiki held up her hair in two loose pig tails in the mirror, frustratingly shaking them in emphasis to her father before letting them fall down at her side.

You’d just left on a girls’ trip the day before–one that you desperately needed. Your husband Toji assured you that he could ‘handle the two brats’(the brats in question being your seven year old son and four year old daughter). You’ve never been away for long since the two were born, however, always present to keep your anarchic family intact. 

Taking care of Megumi wasn’t difficult at all, the stoic child being surprisingly easy to understand. Though when his younger sister Tsumiki came into the world, you found yourself now working overtime, much to your husband’s dismay. He hated seeing you push yourself, attempting to carry the burden of raising yall’s two children alone. The quiet exhaustion, the ever-growing bruises growing deeper under your eyes from lack of sleep. . .yeah, it was best you went out of town. 

Toji was sure he could hold down the fort while you were gone. Sure, he wasn’t as hands on as you were, but he was certain he didn’t impregnate you just for shiggles.. A son who barely talked and a daughter who didn’t do anything but talk. How hard could it be?

. . .

An exasperated Toji found himself rethinking that same question after spending thirty minutes in the bathroom.The usually bright and bubbly girl was now pouting in the mirror, tears swelling up in her large, brown eyes. She didn’t understand why he couldn’t do it the way her Mommy did–effortly with ease, even putting in the extra mile to put colorful glitter and cute barrettes in her hair on certain occasions. She grew tired of standing in the terribly lit bathroom, her legs felt like jelly and her scalp was starting to throb. Her chubby fingers met Toji’s, lightly nudging her father’s hands away from her aching head. 

Megumi–’the moody one’ as Toji put it–was now standing in the bathroom doorway, holding a bowl of cornflakes and grinning smugly as he watched his idiot father struggle putting his younger sister’s hair in two. He leaned against the doorframe as though he were watching an in-house circus.

“I can do it if you want,” he suggested, shoveling a spoonful of cereal in his mouth. Toji waved him off, tsking, “I can do her damn hair, s’just..taking longer than I expected.” He sighed, beginning to brush back his daughter’s hair, separating it in two with his hands. He fumbled with the hair ties, blaming them under his breath for being so damn flimsy before deciding to start all over again when his daughter’s face didn’t change from her saddened expression.

His final straw was ten minutes later when one of the ties snapped, popping his wrist, leaving a slight red mark. That coupled with the sudden realization that they were now an entire hour behind for school left him with one logical conclusion left. 

“Fuck it!” he yelled, accidentally startling Tsumiki. “No school today!” He threw his arms up before storming out.

Six more days until she comes back…. he thought.

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sorry for being away for so long but im back now(hopefully) tysm for 200 followers im so happy there are that many people that enjoy my fics<3.

˚ ༘ ❀SYNOPSIS: you take in a pet stray

˚ ༘ ❀CW: blind!reader, fem!reader intended, husband!sukuna, heian era, true form sukuna, fluff

❀

Sukuna’s relationship with animals was. . .interesting to say the least. He rarely kept animals around the shrine, the only time they were permitted on the sacred grounds–alive–was when he felt too tired to kill them himself and ordered the kitchen staff to complete the violent task. 

But, on the rare occasion he would have the energy to behead whatever poor creature managed to mindlessly wander across his path, he would never have you around. After years of marriage, your sense of smell was one that heightened especially. The metallic tang of blood was one that your nostrils frequently welcomed. He knew your love of animals ran deep; and that knowing he would slaughter them without a care would open up a discussion he knew would be an exhausting one for both of you. 

So, when you came back to bed that night with a suspicious lump in your robe, he knew that it was going to be a long night. And you being oblivious(a major con of your clouded irises), had no clue that the feline-shaped shadow in your silk robe was anything but inconspicuous. Your arms cradled against the “inconspicuous” shadow only helped to confirm Sukuna’s suspicions.

You had found it wandering in the garden. How it got there, hell, any guess was as good as yours. Perhaps it chewed its way through the gates up front? Nevertheless, you followed the sound of its mewling and swiftly picked it up, shushing it before anyone could hear its sad cries.

The rest of the day, you cared for the scrawny little thing. Your first line of action was to feed it. Gods know how long it’s gone without eating. You waited until most of the kitchen staff left before sneaking in to get milk. You felt lumps of sand and dirt along its coat, which urged you to give it a bath in the fountain. After it fell asleep in your lap, you inspected it all over for fleas, ticks, or any other nuisances that might be on its frail body. That was where you found out the ‘it’ was a ‘he’.

You knew Sukuna would disapprove of the mangy stray (after all, this is the same man who deemed all animals’ only purpose was for human’s sustenance). That didn’t deter you from lugging it around all day, even skipping your daily tea with Uraume; which probably wasn’t the best decision considering your 5-pound secret. 

All four eyes instantly narrowed in on the moving shadow. “No,” he grunted, not even waiting for a plea on your end. You tried to feign innocence, but the sudden soft meow escaping into the silent room shut you up. 

He sat up, holding his palm out. “Hand the cat over, wife.” You hugged the stray closer to your chest. “Why?”

A quick scoff left his mouth, as if you personally insulted his own intelligence, “So I can give it to Uraume to dispose of it.” You solemnly pet the squirming cat in your hands. “It’s a he.”

“It,” he insisted, “is not staying here and will be given to Uraume to be taken care of. Now hand. It. Over.” You heard the bed creak as the imposing figure that was your husband made his way over to you. “You know I have no tolerance for pets,” you could hear the disgust dripping off the word, “let alone some weak mutt you found that came here by sheer luck. How the scavengers haven’t gotten their go at it is a mystery to me.

The loss of fur and warmth overtook your palms when he snatched the feline up by the scruff of his neck. He inspected the cat(and your worried expression), before speaking, “Do not fret, petal. He will not be killed. I am not some heartless brute. He will simply be released back into the wild. Where he came from,” he shrugged, coming up with a suitable resolution that he assumed you’d want to hear. 

“I want him to be released back into my hands,” you held your hands out towards him expectedly. “Please, I will take care of him. I have already fed him, bathed him, and I hid him all day. You did not seem to notice then or until I stepped foot here. Have I not inadvertently proved I can handle him just fine?” You had him.

“I did notice because I have been to hearings that, may I remind you, you should’ve been in attendance at, and ‘visited’ many villages and towns. All you have inadvertently done is shown me that taking care of this kitten and adhering to your royal duties is something you are not capable of multitasking,” he paused before continuing, as if he were trying to think about how to phrase his next critique. “Your sight as well would be a hindrance to its care and safety.”

The mention of your lack of a specific sense stunned you. “You know I am more than capable despite my disability. If anything, I missed our hearings because I knew my husband would instantly just see me with a dirty stray and take him away,” you smirked, “And obviously, our hearings did not cover anything of importance. Surely, your demeanor would be alert. More tense. If anything, you’re relaxed, dear husband. As though all you were waiting for was your wife to return to bed with you.” 

You shook your hands again, a reminder of your past command. Tiny claws dug into the first layer of your skin. “Fine. Keep your pile of fleas and disease,” he groaned. “However, if that thing becomes too much for you, or you start to lack in your abilities, I will have Uraume take it away. Do not underestimate my promises. Though I do hold affection for you, none–and I mean none–transfer to that.”

A shrill meow instantly undermined Sukuna’s thinly veiled threat towards the source of noise. You smiled, still happy that he agreed to co-existencing beside the cat. “Thank you, Sukuna. I will ensure my duties are kept up with and the health of our cat is my top priority."

You brushed past him(sneaking a quick kiss to what you thought was his cheek, but was his shoulder), lying on the bed, the curious feline deciding to settle atop your stomach, the tassels attached to the tie of your robe serving as makeshift blankets for the tiny thing. 

“No. No way in hell is the thing sleeping in our bed.” He tried to challenge the cat’s sleepy act, but when he saw your hand comfortably resting on his head, and the small body beneath being lulled into sleep, he decided he could make an exception for that night only.

˚ ༘ ❀SYNOPSIS: sukuna won't let you touch his face.

˚ ༘ ❀CW: reader is blind, fem reader, true form sukuna, you two are married, fluff, slight angst. comfort

❀

You and your husband were sitting comfortably in the garden.

To him, the garden that sat behind the estate was nothing more than “a large patch of dirt and weeds”. The same large patch that his white and red-haired personal servant, Uraume, had been subjected to hearing complaints of ever since you’d, to his dismay, expressed your love for it. 

Though every day, he’d get closer and closer to telling the gardeners to burn every blade of grass down. But the words would never escape. They couldn’t. No matter how many mouths decorated the different areas of his body, the command never came. Since he led you by hand into the flowery wonderland he had before brushed aside, you found much comfort in it. 

After a while of navigating the garden on your own, you had soon figured out where each of the specific patches of flowers lay. And each day, you’d venture out to the garden, whether it be early mornings or late nights, crouch down, and touch the same species of flower. Snapdragons. 

You would never see what beauties the small bundle of petals created, with the bouts of ombre–each ranging from yellows and oranges to vibrant violets and blues. It was true that sight was not a sense you possessed–for you had never seen anything since birth. But the softness the petals brought to your fingers was enough for you. After he witnessed you enjoying the flowers, he ordered that the whole garden only be filled with them. That served as the reason it stayed. It comforted you. And that brought him comfort (well, as much comfort the King of Curses could feel). 

The foreign feeling couldn’t help but creep up inside him when you looked so peaceful sitting there with the warm sun brightening your face, which caused your lips to curl into a small smile.

In a way, the garden was both you and Sukuna’s safe haven. Rubbing a small fragment of the petal belonging to a snapdragon between your index and pointer finger, you took in each other’s silence. It was a comfortable silence. The kind where after years of knowing, and listening, it was nice to just have a moment of peace with the person you love.

Well, at least you called it love. You didn’t know what he called it. It was true that he had stayed loyal and never treated you differently from when you two were married, though you never heard the words, ‘I love you’ come out of his mouth. Public displays of affection (even a mere touch could set him off) were never his specialty either. But much as he didn’t want to admit it, his servants and everyone else around him (including you) knew that he had a soft spot for you.

In private however, he had no problem with you feeling his body. The ridges of his abs, or the extra pair of arms that– for some reason–didn’t deter you from “seeing” him. He knew you saw with your hands, besides verbal descriptions given by him, your hands guided your making of the world. Of him.

Every night, you would place your hand on some part of his body. Whether it be an arm or his chest, your hand was positioned somewhere on him. He never cared. Most nights he’d lie there and scoff lightly at your eagerness to feel him. Most nights. Other nights would consist of your hand palm slowly reaching toward his shoulder, then his jaw, and then–

You never knew what facial features your lover donned above his chin. Before you could make a mental map, a larger, firm hand was wrapped around your wrist, bringing it to your side, ultimately stopping your physical venture.

Sukuna would never expand on why he did it; you were always met with a curt, “Stop.” 

You never argued. Never pressed. You’d either respond with a nod or, “Alright. Goodnight, dear.” To where his grip loosened, and you could feel the bed dip where he proceeded to lie down with a gruff. 

❀

Whenever you sat alone with yourself, you’d try to theorize why he acted this way about his face. Surely he wasn’t homely! Upon your weekly tea with Uraume(which Sukuna still felt uncertain about), the stoic servant would sit across from you, and discuss aspects of Sukuna’s life he knew the demon wouldn’t share. They never shared too much though. Most responses to your questions were kept vague or ambiguous. Though one topic that never were met with these responses were ones of his past relationships.

During these weekly chats, you learned the majority of his relationships were with concubines. They estimated around seventeen; each one designated to a separate need of his volition. You weren’t shocked, you suspected that was the case(the concubines that is, you thought the number was absurd). Upon learning the large quantity of his concubines, you felt a small feeling of anxiety build up. However, your self-conscious thoughts were diminished when Uraume mentioned right after, when Sukuna realized the feelings he harbored towards you were more than mere toleration, he demoted them all. Demoted being banished from the temple.

Perhaps he himself thought he was ugly? No, even you knew that Sukuna cared little about how others saw his appearance. . . his ego would never let that happen. 

So. . .what was it?

You sat in the same spot in the garden for half an hour trying to figure out the reasoning behind it. You knew you would never push him for fear of making him uncomfortable (though you knew it wouldn’t take much for him to just pin your hands above your head).

❀

It was the third attempt this week you’d tried to touch his face. At first, Sukuna had compared the experience to swatting away a small gnat. Now his comparison had upgraded to being in the strongest heat wave in summer with a swarm of gnats, each in the form of your hands which inched closer and closer to his facial features every night. 

Usually, he’d lie down and feel your hands on his body, the action slowly lulling him into sleep. However, the slits under his larger set of eyes couldn’t help but follow the not-so-subtle way that your hand moved from his lower abdomen, to his chest, clavicle, and then–

He’d grab your wrist, stopping you while letting out a gruff command for you to stop. He felt slightly pitiful for the way your brows furrowed in confusion. The feeling was quickly pushed down when he felt the bead of sweat running down the side of his face.

Despite the constant reassurance from Uraume, he still couldn’t shake the weird feeling every time his eyes darted to your ever-approaching palm. It wasn’t fear, he never felt fear. What was there to be afraid of? He could easily defend himself against a mere human with clouded irises.

Usually, he has no issue letting your hands roam. It was custom. In fact, he expected it. So much so to the point where he’d immediately resort to a line of skeptical questioning of whether or not you were feeling well when he wasn’t met with the familiar feeling.

In the past when he had concubines serving him, he never cared if they looked at him, or touched his face. Sometimes it annoyed him when the woman he was bedding’s only desire was to feel all over his face. But he quickly finished and kicked her out, it never warranted the same reaction he had to you.

It wasn’t until the third time that week, he had come to the terrible realization. He wasn’t in fear of any physical danger. Rather, the fear that when you finally feel his face, you would be the one to leave. For fear of having finally realized he was a monster. 

Well. . .not a monster. But he doubted that you would be happy about being married to someone who dawned two faces, one that was unfortunately misshapen, and an extra pair of eyes. After another talk of his true thoughts with Uraume, they had brought up your nonchalance of him having four arms and a mouth on his stomach. . .where he decided the reasoning behind that was because you had no problem being pinned down under him with said four arms.

❀

After another night in bed which again was a result of a failed attempt, you took off to the garden–after waiting for Sukuna to fall asleep. At least you thought he was.

You listened for the soft snores that would have usually pulled you into a soothing sleep, but this time they acted as a signal for you to leave.

You wrapped a blanket around yourself and navigated through endless doors until the feeling of soft grass under your feet told you that you were in the garden. You plucked a petal off of a snapdragon and sat down at the small table Sukuna had a few servants build and install.

You felt the soft petal whilst thinking. Still trying to come up with a sound reason when–

“I thought I might find you here. Why aren’t you sleeping next to me?”

A familiar deep voice–though groggy from sleep–filled in the silence of the night. You clenched your fist, crushing the petal. “Thought you were asleep.”

“I was not. I watched you walk out of our bed, and now, here you are.”

He sat down in the chair next to you, which was significantly larger due to his broader size. You both sat in silence, shrouded in your own thoughts when you spoke up.

“Why won’t you let me touch your face?” You could feel the slight shift in the air, the light illuminating from the moon feeling much colder.

“I do not understand why you are so adamant about touching my face. When will you stop these feeble attempts?”

“When you finally let me touch it, I will. You act as though I am trying to hurt you anytime I try,” you frowned slightly, feeling hurt. He folded his arms, “It is annoying that you choose to stay so persistent.”

“And it is annoying that you are not willing to tell me why you will not let me see you.”

“You see plenty of me,” he responded with a roll of his eyes–which he wouldn’t have done had you been able to see the action.

“I feel your body. I want to truly see you. Just tell me why you won’t let me touch you. Please.”

After what felt like hours of silence, he spoke up, his voice somber.

“If I tell you. . .will you drop it?” 

“If it’s a valid reason,” you murmured with a shrug.

“Very well. I feel as though when you touch me–see me,” he paused, “you will be repulsed by me. And leave.”

Your movements stilled. Trying to gather your thoughts. You wouldn’t have thought in thousands of years that Ryomen Sukuna was insecure. You were at a loss for words.

Still at a loss, you reached your hand out towards his face. You expected him to say something. To push you away. He didn’t. You felt his chin, then traced his jawline, so sharp you were certain it could cut diamonds. 

Your hands moved further up to his eyes, and then. . .his eyes again? You thought you had accidentally felt his eyes again, but when your fingers felt up and down, it seemed as though you had felt four eyes. 

Sukuna saw your brows furrow in confusion. “I have four eyes, woman,” he groaned, but still didn’t pull away from your hold. 

You didn’t say anything, just kept moving up his face. One hand felt his hairline, soft hair tickling the underside of your hand. The other–the one on the right side of his face—felt what appeared to be a lump of bare skin that should’ve been the start of his hairline as well.

You paused, not knowing whether to speak on it or continue. Sukuna didn’t speak either. Just waited for you to say something. A look of repulse maybe or anything else. Your expression, however, stayed stoic. 

“Sorry,” you muttered before reaching out again. 

You finally finished your “inspection” of his face. Truth be told, you weren’t disgusted. Far from it. Sukuna already had four arms, a mouth on his stomach, etcetera; so, why would an extra face and extra set of eyes be any different? 

“So,” Sukuna started, voice almost whisper-like. “Go ahead and say it.”

“Say what?” A beat of silence.

“What I already know you’ll say.”

“Ah, that I still find you handsome?” He perked up, almost falling out of his chair.

“What?”

You let out a soft laugh, “Really, ‘Kuna, is this what was troubling you? Your eyes. . .or ‘face’? I do not find your appearance alarming, or strange. In fact, I find you even more captivating.

He smirked, “You’re insane, woman,” the insult had no true bite to it though, “But, you truly do not find my eyes or face concerning?”

You shook your head, “Not at all. If you think about it, your eyes make up for mine, don’t they?” you teased.

His lips twitched into a small smile. “Very well then,” he stood up, “now can you please come back to bed? It’s freezing out here, and if you get a cold, I will not console you.” You complied but secretly knew that he just wanted to go back to sleep with you. 

❀

That night you both fell asleep peacefully, your body lying on top of his. And your hands, of course, now resting comfortably on either side of his face.

˚ ༘ ೀ synopsis: you groom sukuna

˚ ༘ ೀ cw: mentions of blood/guts so slight gore ig, mentions of spit i think

The stench of blood filled your nose within minutes of Sukuna stepping inside. You’d told him countless times before, if he was to go out on a violent rampage, at least wash himself after! 

Your tail flicked in agitation as he flopped down on the futon next to you, accidentally flicking a fleck of remains onto your cheek.

That was the last straw.

You grab the collar of his robe, tugging him towards you. Before he could protest, you dragged your barbed tongue along his cheek, wiping away any remnants of his victims. 

You thought he’d shove you off or growl as a warning. Surprisingly, he sat patiently as you moved from his face to where his robe failed to shield his torso.

“You do this everytime, woman,” he let out a short huff, flicking his striped ear.

“Yet, everytime, you still come back filthy,” you retorted, yet your words came out slightly mumbled as you continued grooming him.

Finally, you finish with one last, long slurp. You hummed in approval, looking at the now damp feline.

You stretched as you got up, making your way to the bathroom before–

“Where do you think you’re going?” Sukuna wrapped a clawed hand around your wrist, pulling you back down against him. He wrapped both of his arms around your waist before starting to groom you now.

With a quick flash of his fangs, he murmured in your ear, 

“My turn.”

˚ ༘ ೀ a/n: not proofread so sorry for any mistakes. randomly thought about this two days ago(love me some hybrid jjk au)--also is it just me or has anyone else been really tired lately (￣﹃￣)

requests are open! ty for reading and have a good day/night

divider by @angeliicide

⊹₊⟡⋆A/N: i lowk struggled sm on writing sukuna so i hope this is decent😭might make this a mini series

CW: SLIGHT misogyny from sukuna(nothing extreme though), fluff, crack, domestic sukuna, fem!reader, you're sukuna's wife

Ryomen Sukuna. Just the name itself struck fear into hundreds–no. Thousands. Throughout his years of roaming the earth, he spent many lifetimes destroying villages, slaughtering those for just glancing or bowing at him the ‘wrong way’ as he put it. He was a man feared by all. Except one. His wife.

From the moment you two met, he could tell his appearance did little to deter the fierce look in your eyes. The same look he would’ve beheaded anyone else for making. It was a shock for many when they heard word of his new found love for something other than grotesque displays of horror and violence: his wife. Who, as it came to an even bigger shock, was a mere mortal.

As an effort to keep his reputation–and pride–there was one thing he would never admit to anyone as long as he lived and breathed: he was terrified of his wife. 

The shocking revelation was made while you were cleaning up dinner. He was lounging on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table(despite your constant scoldings not to). You had just finished stacking the last few dishes you used for dinner into the sink. You’d spent about a total of five hours–excluding the time it took to get ingredients– cooking the meal that your husband pestered you into making. 

You started to wipe down a nearby counter when Sukuna peered over his shoulder, slightly curious as to what you were doing. “Woman, what are you about to do?” he asked, watching you place the rag you just used back in the sink. 

“I’m going to take a bath, ‘Kuna.” He looked past you at the dirty dishes. “There are dishes that need to be washed.”

Raising a brow, you responded, “You can do it. It’s not that many in there.” He rolled his eyes before completely turning his head to face you. “You are the woman of this estate. It is your job,” he stated, now making his way into the kitchen.

“I just spent the whole day making this dinner that you wanted me to make. The least you could do is wash the damn dishes.” At this point, you were pissed. You two had gotten into slight disagreements before about chores around the house. Most of the time, you’d do it, but truth be told, you were tired. You were tired of staring at the wooden floors, the smell of spices and sauce…

You wanted to relax.

“Please can you just–” He interrupted with a roll of his eyes, leaning against the wall, “Must you be so lazy?-”

THUD.

Sukuna froze. He slowly looked down the floor to see a few chipped strands of pink hair scattered at his feet. He turned his attention to the right side of his head. A large kitchen knife was wedged into the wall, inches from his face. 

When he finally decided to gaze in your direction, his heartbeat stuttered. You glared at him with a crazed stare in your eyes. One that made him feel like he couldn’t breathe unless you gave him permission.

Since you two wed, he always declared you two equals, but now? This was the first time he felt as though he was beneath someone. He was perfectly capable of moving, though he didn’t want to. He also couldn’t describe the emotion that he was feeling right now? Love? Lust? Anger? No. The foreign feeling he felt at that moment was fear.

He never felt inferior, so he acknowledged the weird sensation the only way he knew how–

“ARE YOU CRAZY WOMAN–” You wasted no time biting back, “DO THE DAMN DISHES, SUKUNA!”

…

And that’s how he found himself in a bright pink apron, gloves tightly pulled onto his upper pair of hands, scowling at the dish water as if it were silently mocking him. He muttered curses under his breath, scrubbing a pan vigorously, slightly bending the handle.

You, however, stepped outside the bathroom, a soft towel wrapped around your body. A relaxed expression decorating your face. You peeked around the corner, “‘Kuna, dear, would you mind putting them up after they finish drying, please?” He paused, a vein in his forehead bulging out. 

“...yes, wife.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ 🗡 ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

༄.°synopsis: Nanami comes home to his wife and daughter after a tiring day

WC: 1054

CW: Husband!Nanami, fluff, nanami x reader, you two have a toddler

A/N: was supposed to be a smut but my mind had other plans, rushed ending(sorry)◞‸◟

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

It had been a long day for the both of you. You were out the house running errands and buying ingredients for Nanami’s favorite meal.  When you did eventually come home, you were met with a less-than-ideal looking living room and kitchen. Likely due to your five-year old, Hana, who had an affinity for destroying the house in the morning whilst looking for her favorite pink hair ribbon. 

You spent the next three hours cleaning and cooking. You wished there was time to rest as dinner was cooking, but you had to pick Hana up. A fifteen-minute drive to and from daycare. Safe to say, you were beat. 

Nanami, on the other hand, had a different kind of tiresome day. He was out in the sweltering heat, battling special-grade curses alongside an annoying snow-haired co-worker which you heard in most work tales he brought home with him. After which, much to his dismay, he was roped into attending some hangout at a local bar that would occur in two days. He seldom enjoyed social drinking events, as the aforementioned co-worker became insufferable when intoxicated. He’d much rather spend his late afternoons with his darling wife and daughter.

After you finished washing the dishes, you sat down on the living room floor, playing with Hana and her dolls. You glanced at the clock. 11 PM. Clearly past her bedtime. You perked up at the familiar sound of the front door lock clicking. Hana noticed too, as she booked it towards the door, bouncing with excitement. “Papa’s here, Papa’s here!” she jumped up and down, glancing back and forth from you and the door with wide, excited eyes. 

As Nanami walked through the door, he was instantly met with the feeling of small hands wrapping around his leg. His hair which was styled in the morning with practiced precision, now had strands sticking out every which way. His blue collar shirt that was neatly tucked into his khaki slacks was now wrinkled, and half of it draped on one side.

As tired as he was, he never lost his patience with Hana. He looked down at the giddy toddler before sweeping her up effortlessly in his arms. “Hello, sweetie,” he greeted with a warm smile, pressing a soft kiss to her chubby cheek. 

You got up from the floor, stretching as you made your way to the father-daughter pair. “Your daughter here insisted on staying up later for you to tuck her in,” you playfully rolled your eyes, kissing the top of Hana’s head. This wasn’t the first time she had insisted on staying up past her set bedtime to have Nanami tuck her in. You placed a hand on his shoulder, kissing the corner of his lips. “My love,” he properly greeted, returning the gesture. 

“Your dinner’s waiting in the fridge. I made your favorite.” “You spoil me, dear.” “Nonsense, I simply cooked a meal for my family,” you smiled. 

After interrogations about if ‘dogs could speak to squirrels’ and if ‘the sun made fun of us’, Hana was finally tucked in. She insisted that Nanami read her a bedtime story, which he was surprisingly good at despite his usual stoic demeanor. You tried to convince him you could do bedtime instead so he could eat, but he politely declined, claiming he ‘Wasn’t that hungry at the moment, dear. But thank you.’ because no amount of hunger would sacrifice his time with his small princess.

After she fell asleep, you both kissed her temple, with the slight ruffling of her amber hair before retreating to bed. As a result of already being home the majority of the day, you were already prepared for bed, donning a silk pink robe that was one of the many gifts he’d given to you on your birthday. 

You were reading a book, your hair up in a bun, when you felt a slight divot of the bed on your left side. Nanami’s hand had found itself comfortably resting on your hip, rubbing up and down in a comforting manner. You tried to focus on your book, but found it hard to ignore the heat rising up to your face. He shifted closer to your side, peppering kisses alongside your neck. “Thank you,” he murmured against your shoulder. You finally glanced away from your book, placing a bookmark on the page you last left off and setting it aside on the nightstand. “For what?” you raised a brow. “For being an amazing mother, and wife. You’re absolutely perfect, my love, and I’m so glad you married me,” his hand continued its soothing motion, relaxing you into a content yawn and serving to help ground him better. 

“You don’t need to thank me, Kenny,” you scoffed lightly, running your hand through his blonde hair, which was still slightly dishevelled as he made no attempt to tidy it at night. He knew it would get messy again when he woke up. His other hand came up cradling your face, closing the distance between your lips, offering a passionate kiss rather than a dominating, overbearing one. He was always like that. He never fought for dominance or tried to take over, he gave nothing but slow, gentle, sweet, passionate. He could never be rough with you.

You admired the way he interacted with Hana, always making time for her, not that you never did that, you did. But the way you could notice his expression soften every time she would call for her Papa…it made you happy for her, for him too. Hana: having a loving father who provided nothing but patience, care, and love, and Nanami: having a daughter who adores him and a wife who loves him just as much. Finally having the family he always longed for. 

He kissed your temple before laying back down on his side of the bed–with the exception of a hand that stayed on your waist throughout the night.

He kissed you again, this time a soft peck on the lips, “Goodnight, my love. I love you.” You kissed him back, waiting a moment before pulling back to turn off the lamp and lie down yourself. “Goodnight, honey. Love you more,” you teased, smirking against your pillow. You couldn’t see it, but you knew the corners of his lips twitched before responding.

“Impossible.”

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

(not proofread, sorry)

it’s been thirty minutes so far, but to your boyfriend, it felt like an eternity.

books were scattered across the floor of his dorm, his glasses long gone, strands of his raven hair sticking out in all different sorts of directions. the room suddenly felt cramped. the sweet sounds of your moans filling his ears. the sunlight that peaked through his windows, highlighting your presence, making you look more angelic.

your once neat skirt now bunched around your waist, and –to your frustration–falling down every so often when you lifted up. 

after his sixth or seventh orgasm–honestly he’s lost count now, he started seeing stars, his vision blurry, his heart practically jumping out his chest. his only grounding were your sweet nothings and soft pleas of him giving you “one more”.

he panted, “baby, please i–i can’t take it any–oh fuck!” his begging was cut short by your walls fluttering around his cock, his hands came crashing down on your hips trying to slow your pace. 

you giggled at the sight of him under you, completely spent and utterly adorable.

you dove your head down, placing a kiss on the corner of his lips, leaving behind a shiny impression of your lip gloss.

“aw, but you look so cute! how 'bout one more? just for me?” you smiled, that deceiving smile that always managed to make him weak in the knees. he lifted his hips up, his flushed tip hitting your cervix causing your eyes to roll back.

gods, how could he say no to you?

a/n: had writers block for like weeks now this is lowk ass

ALSO CAN SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME FIND THIS ONE FIC

ITS A GOJO X READER AND ITS BASICALLY HIM BEING A GOD OR SOMETHING AND HES OBSESSED WITH READER SO HE CREATED A REALITY WHERE HIM AND READER ARE MARRIED AND THE READER FINDS OUT AND GETO AND I THINK SHOKO ARE IN ON IT AND I REMEMBER HE HAD CREATED A PHYCIATRIST THAT READER WAS GOING TO SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME FIND IT OMG I HAVE BEEN LOOKING FOR IT FOR MONTHS NOW AND I TRIED TO SCROLL THROUGH MY LIKES TO FIND IT BUT THAT WOULD TAKE FOREVER TO FIND IT BC I LIKE A MILLION FICS A DAY PLEASE HELP

ೃ༄* Overall Content Warning: gojo x reader, arranged marriage, queen charlotte!au, noncurse!au, king george!gojo, queen charlotte!reader, brimsley!nanami, reynolds!ijichi, porn w plot, p in v , oral f+m!receiving, breeding kink, downbad gojo, depictions of depression, SLIGHT voyeurism+exhibitionism

ೃ༄* Synopsis: After your brother tricks you off to marry the future king, you find yourself struggling to adjust to the demanding lifestyle of marriage and royalty; eventually, trying to see if you can live up to the crown's name.

▌hi!! this is a preview for my queencharlotte!au with gojo x reader bc im now im my bridgerton phase and ive been rewatching it while doing my assignments but anyways i wrote this based off the scene with charlotte after she receives her pomeranian. i highly recommend watching the show bc it's really good and so you understand the refs ill make! (^∇^*)

You’ve been cooped up in the newfound luxury that was your palace for two weeks now. Your boredom would have been alleviated had the newly crowned king–your husband– been there to share that solemn feeling. 

Meals were eaten in complete silence. Expensive silverware made of shiny metals clinked against the porcelain dishes, mocking you. The only company was your secretary, Nanami, who, to your disliking, had to stay five exact paces behind you. No more and no less. And, to add further to your dismay, by your side at all times. 

You seemed to despise him at first, however now, you two have grown somewhat close due to the king’s mysterious absence. After the first week, he and you would sit in the tea room, sharing opinions on the latest book that you had picked from the library. You would enjoy the conversations more if –unfortunately– Nanami were more honest about his true findings; but, you concluded it was simply a matter of cautiousness. After all, no one would want to willingly anger the Queen. At least, everyone except Gojo.

 Every morning, you’d wake up to a soft knock at the door, and dozens of handmaidens carefully attending to you. Each one tending to your different needs at that moment: one brushing your hair, the other styling it afterwards, another tugging the strings on your bodice, forcing you to suck in until you felt your lungs shrivel. And finally, the others for murmuring bouts of praise, suited to make you happy; though they never did.

None of it did.

An entire fortnight of the same routine. An entire fortnight of being the new Queen. An entire fortnight of being married. An entire fortnight of being alone. The constant, linear schedule, no change, no surprises. . .was this truly what marriage and the crown held in store for you?

When asking your blonde shadow about any speeches, appearances, something, you’d hear the same response. “I’m afraid you have no agenda yet, my Queen. It would be in your best interests to remember that His and Her Majesty are still on their honeymoon.” After the fifth time of asking, you had begun to try to twist his words, yearning for some form of entertainment to compensate for your loneliness. 

“Are you implying your Queen is too much of a fool to remember the events of her own honeymoon?” You’d sneer, holding your fan up to hide your ever-growing smirk.

With practiced ease, he’d simply answer, “No, my Queen, I was merely. .reminding you of current events. I know that you are capable of long-term memory, that is only one of the many reasons why we, your people, adore you–why your husband adores you.”

Ah, yes. The same husband that left you alone in your bed. Or perhaps the same husband who left you alone and sobbing into your pillow on the night of the wedding? The one who has yet to leave a word of acknowledgement that he’s even thinking of you while living gods know where. 

At some point you blamed yourself, no longer seeing a point in waiting for Gojo to show. You gave up on that possibility. 

Your guards had noticed. Your handmaidens as well. Even Nanami spoke less now–your conversations now being diminished to simple nods and agreements to appease you. 

The large, gold-plated seat at the end of the dining table now a looming reminder of what you still could not have. Every room had them, in fact. The tea room, the throne room, your bedchambers even had a bed fit for two people exactly.

Maybe it was you? You were certainly lower than that of a royal status before you were arranged to marry Gojo. . .the way you two met was ever the reminder. Patches of dirt decorated your face and gown as you tried to scramble your way up a stone wall. The way his lips curled into a smug smile as you unknowingly insulted the former prince in anger, claiming that you feared he would be ‘more of a beast than a man’.

And gods, that smile.

One not out of malice, but understanding. Maybe that was the reason you had not seen him since the royal wedding. Maybe he hated the idea of this political marriage more than you. 

Regardless, it stung still. Your steps now dragged, no longer as regal as the night you walked down the aisle. The exotic foods you had once savored now piles of bland, unexciting mush. You and Nanami’s verbal exchanges now completely extinguished. 

Days now moved in a blur, the only indicator of a different day being Nanami’s repeated phrase.

“Good morrow, my Queen. Today is a new day.”

With nothing in your agenda and an effortless sigh, you trudged to the garden, where different fruits and vegetables created a colorful pallet across the many acres of shrubbery. Nanami stood behind, signaling every now and then to the guards to grab the fruit you were eyeing from a tree.

“Nanami, I can retrieve my own fruit if I wish.” You turned, facing the stoic man.

He cleared his throat, nodding, “Of course, my Queen. Her Majesty may have whatever it is she so desires,” before signaling the guards yet again.

Before you could reprimand him, the bell from the front door of the palace rang, causing Nanami to now take stance in front of you while the guards investigated. Soon, one arrived back, a relaxed look on his face. “Your Majesty, the King has left a gift in the foyer.”

Your brows raised, dropping the piece of fruit from your hands, splattering on the bottom of your dress(unbeknownst to you). Your stern expression now changing into something of curiosity. After two weeks, what could Gojo possibly have sent? Was it an apology? Himself?

You knew you should’ve been mad. You should have ignored it and carried on, but something about it being from him made you abandon all reason.

You rushed down the hall, Nanami struggling to keep pace, reaching the foyer with you in a huff.

You looked around at the grand space, marble and gold lining the ceiling and floors, with the royal symbol being carved in every piece of furniture visible. “Well,” you started, slightly out of breath, “where is my gift that my husband has left?”

“Right below you, Your Majesty.”

With terribly hidden enthusiasm, you peered below you, seeing a small woven basket with a bright blue ribbon and note attached. 

In a swift motion, Nanami bent down, bringing it to your level, gently tearing the note and handing it to you.

‘So you never are truly alone, my darling wife.’

-G.S.

Dark, swirly letters danced along the parchment, your eyes taking in every syllable. You quickly motioned for Nanami to open the basket to reveal. . .a dog? 

What the hell was this?

You looked around in the basket, seeing nothing else but white and tan fur scattered along the bottom. You looked at your guards and Nanami, scoffing. “Is this a jest? Though I have not known him for long, I trust the King himself would not leave this thing as a gift.” 

Your face wrinkled in deep disgust. The small beast in your secretary’s arms, panted; large eyes gazing up at you, making it look utterly pitiful. Upon further inspection, a light blue collar embedded with diamonds ran along the neck and leash.

A guard spoke up, “No, Your Majesty. This was from himself. His assistant, Ijichi, brought it to the doorstep for him. It is a dog–a pet–”

“I know what it is meant to be.” You interjected. “However, he is sorely mistaken. This may be a pet, but this is not a dog. Dogs are big, majestic beings like a St. Benard, a Shepherd, a Collie,” you listed, looking around to the men before you, nervous looks all coating their faces. 

“This,” you continued, “Is not a dog, rather a. . .deformed bunny of sorts. Therefore, vermin. Nanami, remove this from the palace grounds. And, please, let my husband know that if he wishes to gift me anything, see to it that he does not snatch a wild animal off the streets before deciding to dress it up and drop it in a basket.”

You stomped off, leaving a stunned secretary, and even more stunned guards. With a quick, inner regulation, the blonde man handed the leash to the guard next to him. “Take it to the back kitchen and have it fed,” he ordered before waltzing away to catch up with your steps. 

Gojo lay in his bed, still hiding away in the second–but smaller– palace from when he did two weeks ago after your wedding night. Plates of half-eaten food lay around the layout of his grand resting area; worn-out maps lay scattered everywhere. His hands clasped together in focused thought before a knock took him out of it.

In a hushed tone, Ijichi spoke up from the other side of the door. “Your Majesty? The Queen has received your gift.” To your mention, he sat up immediately, scurrying towards the door, cracking it open to present his scared advisor. 

A grin started to tug at the corner of his lips, “What did she say? Did she enjoy it? I take it that I am now in her good graces?” His fingers drummed against the whittled doorframe as he eagerly waited for a response. 

Ijichi gulped before replying, “Well, Her Majesty was shocked to say the least.” Gojo hummed, urging him to continue. 

“She, uhm, referred to the gift as a deformed bunny, and that she would prefer his Majesty to consider a more. . .thoughtful present in the time to come,” he flinched as he forced out the last words, in fear of angering His Majesty.

To his surprise however, the white-haired monarch doubled over, loud cackling echoing throughout the halls. 

“Oh, my!” he flicked a small tear that formed at his waterline. “My, she truly is a card, the Queen is. A deformed bunny,” he sighed blissfully before closing the door on Ijichi.

He returned to his bed, flopping onto it, strands of snowy hair mussed up from his over-the-top display of humor. A wide, dopey grin wormed its way onto his face within the midst of his fit. 

He stared up at the ceiling again, this time not in somber thought, but instead his next gift to you.