#noyasoftwrld

In more ways than one ・❥・ Kento Nanami

Kento Nanami, your husband, was the type of man who normally kept to himself, went to work and got it done efficiently, and didn’t hang around a minute later than he needed to. He had a beautiful wife to go home to and he always made sure you were comfortable, adored, and loved in more ways than one. 

One night, he had walked into your shared bedroom with a small bag in hand, the jacket of his Grey suit draped over his arms, hair that was surprisingly still perfectly styled from this morning and his glasses long been discarded. You look up from your book, a soft smile on your face as you pull back the covers and wrap your arms around him, his sturdy arm around your waist.

“Is that my loving, hard working husband?”

Nanami gave your waist a slight squeeze, pressing a kiss to your crown, the warmth of your voice a blanket to his skin from the cold weather. He sighed, lips brushing your cheek and then your lips, tasting the remnants of a sugar treat Nanami knew you had. 

“Good to be back to you, darling.” He raised his hand to bring the small bag into view, “sorry I took so long. I made a quick stop and got you something.”

You waved off the apology with a smile, you weren’t too worried about him coming home twenty minutes later than usual, but you were curious as to what was in the bag. Nanami simply guided you back to the bed to sit, tossing his jacket into the dirty clothes bin before he crouched down onto one knee. 

“Honey, are you proposing again?” You asked through a giggle, cocking your head to the side, “if I had suspected such things, I wouldn’t be dressed in my PJs.”

The corner of his lip curled as he rolled back the sleeves of his blue button up. He would definitely marry you again—four years going strong—without a doubt, but that wasn’t the case for right now. 

“Even in your pajamas, you’re just as beautiful.” Nanami says calmly, which makes you even more giddy. 

He lifts up your fuzzy candy cane pants to your knees and pulls out a bottle. Before you could ask what it was exactly, Nanami was already squeezing a long line of it from your feet, up to your calf.

“The other day you told me your feet were sore from standing all day at work.” He prompted, hands already working the substance in, “figured I grab a nice massaging lotion to help you relax and relieve some tension.”

You blinked at him. Just last night you had mentioned your long day at work; several meetings back to back, continuously on your feet presenting marketing ideas for two hours straight towards the end of the day. It was just something that slipped out before bed, a rant with no hesitation. 

“Kento, you didn’t have to do that.”

Nanami hummed, his large hands not faltering once as he worked out the knots from your muscles. 

“But, I wanted to because you’re my wife—I’ve listened—and I can’t have you walking around here with swollen feet, can I?”

Orr when you guys spend a day in the busy city.  Nanami will make sure you’re on the inner side of the sidewalk, away from traffic and tucked close to his side walking the crosswalk. He keeps a more attentive look out for any threats that may harm you while you yap about all the things you’re excited to do. 

“Oh! And I heard there’s this new café a few blocks away too.” You beam up at him, not realizing he’s pushing you back gently to the side away from traffic because you had stopped to pet a fluffy Pomeranian. 

“I saw online that they have these really good milk teas with boba balls in the shape of hearts! It’s really cute.” 

“We’ll definitely stop by.” He said, leaning over so his voice brushed the shell of your ear, “stay to my left, okay?”

And you listened without hesitation. Nanami was more than pleased but he didn’t let it show. Instead, he slipped his hand into yours, maneuvering the way down the sidewalk with content. 

Orrr when Nanami notices one morning that the flowers he bought you a week ago have started to wither so he knew it was time for a new arrangement. He always centered the bouquet around your favorite flower and other floral fillers that looked nice. He was more than glad to be assisted, wanting nothing but the best for his wife. 

You hadn’t realized the new set of flowers until later that afternoon when you were cleaning the kitchen. You gasped so loud that Nanami, who was sitting at the dining room table popped up from his seat and was at your side in five seconds.

“Darling, What’s the matter?”

Your finger darted out to the perfect blend of flowers, squealing as you pulled the vase across the counter towards you, fingertips gently brushing the colorful petals. Nanami let out a deep sigh, hand pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Sometimes you could be a little dramatic when excited and even though it makes Nanami panic for a split second, your excitement overpowers all his rational thoughts because it was him who brought you such joy. He stepped up behind you, resting his cheek against your hair, his hands resting at your elbows. 

“The shop ordered a dozen new flowers from overseas. I was lucky to snag a few of them.”

It truly was a sight for your wide eyes. You spun around in his arms, your cheeks warm and appreciation in your gaze. 

“I love it so much! I’d say thank you in every language if I could.”

He chuckled, “and you’re welcome in every one.”

Orrrr when the two of you are just lounging around on your off day. You had convinced him to wear the matching reindeer onesie after his reluctance (he would’ve folded soon or later) to put it on. It was a tad bit small but there was just enough room to move comfortably. Nanami looked at himself in the mirror and frowned. 

I can't believe I’m doing this.

When he finally came back downstairs you cooed, he groaned. You made a gesture telling him to pull the hood up just like you had it and Nanami sighed heavily. 

He still did it though. 

“Aww! Kento, you look adorable!!”

A series of flashes went off faster than he could process. The things I do because I love this woman... Nanami thinks to himself as he plops down on the couch, tucking you under his arm. 

Time passes by, wasted on watching movies all day. He would pull your hand into his lap, his touch always delicate on your skin, and would mindlessly twist the wedding ring on your finger. He didn’t dare take it off. Not only did Nanami love seeing it, but he loved the cool press of metal because it meant this was real. That he chose right in this lifetime. 

Orrrrr when Nanami is already at the door waiting for your arrival. Once you walk through the door, he’s already reaching for your purse, helping you take off your coat, and shoes. You let him do so because you knew he loved to take care of you, and you loved being catered to. 

“How was work?” He asked, hooking your coat on the coat rack.

You hummed, pulling your knotless braids out the ponytail they were in all day, releasing the tension on your head. 

“Just a slow day…a long one too.”

And because your husband was just so perfect, he already had a solution to help unwind. 

“I have a bubble bath already made. Take as long as you need,” he kissed your temple then your lips, “I’ll have dinner ready when you’re done.”

Nanami always brought a smile to your face. You returned the kiss, thanking him before taking the route upstairs. As you walked into the bathroom, a fresh smell of raspberries hit your nose. A candle was lit by the sink—your favorite one—followed by a few others that were smaller setting the ambiance, aromatherapy oils lined up around the tub, several face masks to choose from, a night gown folded perfectly on top of a towel resting on the toilet and your moisturizers set up in the order you use them.

And we can never forget the random times you'd turn on Jazz from your phone during late nights you both couldn't sleep. His eyes tracking your every move as you moved from the bed to the open space around the bedroom, slow steps across the floor as snow falls past the windows, hips swaying like you embodied each music note on a staff.

And a director couldn't abandon his sheet music.

Nanami would take your hands in his, leading the dance the same way the Saxophone did, guiding the flow—guiding your direction, the dip in the notes that turned sensual—his hand sliding to the small of your back as he dips you down, a shared breath between two lovers before pulling you back in close to his chest.

The soft thrum of the drums in the background—the pretty pink as his cheeks flushed making your smile widen, your heart warming and the sweet caress of his lips on your own when the music fizzled out.

There was no denying his love for you.

Stay Out My Kitchen ・❥・Satoru Gojo

Satoru only had three rules to follow this month.

Thanksgiving Dinner is mandatory

Do not question when the food will be done

Stay out the kitchen unless you call him

And while he would never pass up the chance to eat your mouthwatering, sweet, tummy filling, flavorful food, it was because of that simple fact alone that he always broke rule three.

This time, you had emphasized your instructions significantly more and of course, Satoru Gojo being your carefree, playful yet stubborn boyfriend, shrugged it off like it was as easy as the ABCs.

"Princess, I know the rules." His fingers fondled with the bandages around his head, his crystal blue eyes peeking back at you teasingly, "you worry too much. I mean, come on. Have some hope, babe."

Hope? Surely that must've been a joke—a terrible one that didn't land. You believed in your boyfriend, always did.. The love you had for him was tremendous, just as much as Gojo goes on and on about sweets, but hope? Giving the benefit of the doubt for a third time in a row?

No. That was not happening this go around.

The first year you could excuse. The cupcakes had finished cooling off and all that had to be done was the icing. You asked Gojo if he could get a start on the job while you used the bathroom and he did exactly what you asked in his way. What wasn't expected was him licking the icing off his fingers and lips.

"Toru, what are you doing?!"

"Oh! Just icing the cupcakes." He had told you, "Thought it would be best if I see which flavor was best. Cookies&Cream was good but Strawberry was a home runner. Wanna try?"

You facepalmed. Did he really think you didn't test the icing when making it homemade? I mean, come on. What type of cook didn't? You huffed in disbelief when you saw him reaching for a fourth cupcake, like being caught red handed didn't bother him in the slightest. The audacity for Satoru to chase your hands when snatching the cupcake away was even more mind blowing.

"Hey, give that back! I already claimed that one!"

"You've got to be kidding me."

Last year you decided to make chocolate pops for Satoru to hand out at work. Instead of keeping him out of the kitchen, you thought allowing him to help would not only be a cute memory but allow him to be the test subject without eating the finished product. You promised Satoru you would make more for him later—that these were specifically for his coworkers. Two dozen were wrapped up in plastic lollipop wrapping and sat aside.

His long slender fingers drummed on the counter, staring at the small bunch like they were teasing him. Wrapped perfectly in plastic with a pretty red ribbon tied in a neat bow to secure it all together. It was like a kid walking past a window of a toy store with all the cool toys they could only hope to have in their reach.

And those pops were in reach… so, so, close…

He jumped when you swatted at his hand, clutching it close to his chest. Hands parched up on your hips, your brown eyes stared up at blue ones, probing him without saying a word. Satoru groaned dramatically loud and dropped his head to the crook of your neck, his arms circling around you.

"Princesssss, you can't put chocolate in front of me and expect me to not eat it. Everyone loves chocolate."

"Satoru, don't piss me off."

His lips pulled into a grin, dangling a chocolate pop (sneaky ass) in your face like it would be devastatingly hard for you to resist it.

"You're not you when you're hungry."

Did your boyfriend really just quote a snicker ad in his favor?

"I'm actually going to kill you."

Which brings you back to now. Working on a desert you weren't planning on making but you couldn't conjure up a whole feast without something sweet to look forward to at the end. At first, you couldn't help but to keep watchful eyes out for your devious boyfriend with his track record, but for once—and I mean with surprising shock—Gojo kept to himself while you cooked.

Everything else had been tuned out, your expertise working like second nature watching your mom, aunties and grandmother cook together. You decided to make a home cooked sweet potato pie from a secret family recipe book you kept stored in one of the drawers.

Gojo on the other hand was bored out of his mind.

The gaming system had satisfied him for about two hours until the sound of pots and pangs clinging together, food being chopped and water being ran became too much in the background. His head would swivel back towards the kitchen, nose twitching trying to pick up what delicious foods were being made. He could damn near taste the flavors on his tongue; melted butter, sweet and tangy cranberry sauce, crispy fried chicken…

Satoru shook the food drunken thoughts out his head, forcing himself to look away. He deep cleaned the bathroom, raked the leaves in the front and back yard and blew up his work group chat with nonsense until someone removed him. He stood up abruptly from where he was on the porch and gasped.

Shoko, you traitor!!!

He texted Utahime to add him back, even threw in a few pleasantries about how she was such a good teacher to persuade her over. Satoru should've known that wouldn't work, his ego being bruised when she replied with a laughing emoji. Before his fingers could click into the next contact, for the first time today, you had actually called out to him from the kitchen.

Satoru practically teleported to your side, posture pitifully straight as his eyes gleamed down at you. There was so much food around him, so much he couldn't wait to get his hands on. It was almost like he'd turn into whatever he ate and then eat himself.

But here you were.

Pulling out a fresh baked pie from the oven. The center was a perfect festive orange and the crust had the tines burnt edge he knew would crumble and melt into his mouth. He couldn't stop himself from leaning over, wafting the sweet mouthwatering aroma and almost drooled.

"I appreciate you listening to the rules this time." You said graciously, reaching for one of the knives in the holder and grabbing a plate, "Would you—"

"With extra whip cream, please."

You laugh at his eagerness, cutting out a nice size for him, topping it with extra whip cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon on top. He kisses your cheek, something between a "thank you" and a moan was heard before scooping up his first bite and stuffing it into his mouth, not even bothering to blow it first.

He chewed, wincing when the hot pie scolded the roof of his mouth and swallowed. If this was a cartoon, his eyes would shoot out with heart eyes as he went for another bite, followed by another, another, one more…

"Honey, slow down…"

How could he? Oh, no, no, no. He was in a waiting jail all day, busy doing anything he could do to distract the temptation of the kitchen, ignoring the growl of his stomach that begged to be full, his tongue dreaming of being pleased, and his torturous nose that smelled it all. For fuck’s sake, you made something sweet!!

His body worked overtime this year.

"Perhaps another slice from the amazing, talented, beautiful, honorary chef of the night?"

You shook your head no, "We didn't even have dinner yet."

"Welllllll, consider it like an early dessert! An appetizer if you will" Satoru said cheerfully, "and then I'll have actual dessert after dinner."

God, he was so full of himself. You give him an inch, and he runs a fucking mile.

"Your greed sickens me."

Sweet lazy kisses ・❥・ Hiromi Higuruma

Hiromi knew he should’ve went to bed sooner.

As much as you tell him not to overwork himself, he couldn’t help but to do the opposite. When he came home that evening,he followed the smell of dinner and found you at the stove. Hiromi didn’t say anything as his tall and lean frame walked towards you. Your senses went off the minute his arms found your waist, tucking his face in the crook of your neck.

You had smiled, a soft hand coming to rest on his large one. Hiromi always got like this once he got home; he just needed to be close to his wife. It was like a boost of serotonin while also being a tranquilizer for the stress that sat on his shoulders.

“I missed you.” He admitted in your ear, kissing  the sweet spot just below. “so much.”

You giggled in response, muttering “I missed you too” while his lips lazily dragged along your skin, kiss after kiss.

But once dinner was eaten, Hiromi was walking into his home office just like any other night. Leave work then come home to do more work—but he was passionate, he believed in himself and you couldn’t be mad at a man for loving what he does. So, you let him do his own thing.

You could hear the soft clicking of the keyboard under his finger tips and the sound of papers being flipped as your feet padded towards the cracked door. Slipping past the threshold with two knocks, Hiromi’s eyes peered above his low hanging glasses.

“Hey, Romi… I made you some herbal tea to release some of that tension.”

You spoke gently as if you had to match the essence of night and stillness of the dark lit office, placing the mug down on the coaster. Hiromi could see that comforting smile you always gave him; so subtle, so his.

He rolled his chair back and patted his lap for you to take a seat. Legs dropping over the arm rest, there was instant warmth flooding him. He couldn’t help but to sink into it, eyelids slipping shut savoring you.

His hand ran up and down the expansion  of your thighs while the other rested on your lower back. You pushed his glasses back up and chuckled when he began kissing you again.

“Thank you, beautiful. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Hiromi muttered quietly into your hair.

You hum, cupping his face in your hands. “You’re welcome, baby…  but I want you to come to bed when you finish drinking the Tea.”

There was no hiding the fatigue, dark circles and his slouching posture. His eyes—though very low—found your pretty ones like they always did and nodded. You pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, then to his slightly chapped lips.

Hiromi knew it was up for no debate. It must’ve been way past late if you were coming in saying this. He gave one more kiss to your lips before you slipped off his lap. He listened to the creak of the floorboards when you left, knew when you reached the stairs, knew you hit a right and how many steps it took to get to the shared bedroom.

He kept working, casually sipping from his tea for about ten minutes before shutting everything down. If he knew you, and Hiromi knows his Wife, you would be lying in bed waiting for him.

And of course, just as he predicted. The mattress dipped before you were being tugged into the curve of his body. His hands roamed: sliding up your curves, down soft skin he knew was moisturized in Shea butter, all while he whispered how in love he was which made you feel giddy.

Soon enough, sleep took its toll. But now here he was.

Alarm going off painfully loud and too soon. His arm stretched over to the bedside table to turn it off quickly. It felt like he barley got a wink of sleep but he couldn’t complain. Not when it was his own fault.

Nine o’clock read on the digital clock. Hiromi knew he should get up, knew he would be rushing to work through the bustling traffic of Tokyo but there you were.

Legs tangled with his, arm draped loosely around his waist, bonnet almost slipping of your head and the cutest pout on your lips.

How could Hiromi resist lying here, watching the slow rise and fall of your chest, the occasional snore and the way you tangled yourself up in him. He scoffed, airy and light, then he leaned over and trailed sweet, dainty kisses from your shoulder to your neck.

He loved every thing about his wife. The way you never pressured him to keep working or to stop, the way you would already have his suit hanging from the closet door the night before, his lunch already packed in the fridge, when you reassured him even when he doubted himself…

You were always there.

“I love you.” He uttered between each kiss.

He took his time even when he didn’t have it, but for you? Maybe he could spare five minutes more just to see those brown eyes peer up at him. There was something so intimate about the way he moved, the way he felt, and how he expressed his emotions in the quiet morning.

Hiromi didn’t want to let go of that feeling. If it was for you, he’d manifest over and over to have you as his wife. There was no one else more fitting than the woman laid beside him right now.

“You deserve everything.”

His lips traveled down the length of your arm, the sunlight pouring in from the window highlighting your warm skin, and stopped when his kiss lead to your engagement and wedding ring.

Hiromi admired the iridescence in the light. So colorful, so sparkly—exactly what you brought into his life. It was a symbol of his love, his promise, his respect and his devotion to you. Then like an answer sent from God, you slowly stirred awake.

A smile stretched across his face, reaching up to fix your bonnet before pecking a sweet kiss to your nose.

“Good morning, beautiful.”

Hold up! Stop right there!! ⇩

DNI: EMPHASIS ON MDNI!!! homophobic, racist, pro shippers, etc... don't come over here yucking anyone's yum.

IMPORTANT: Everything I write is centered around black women! Of course anyone can read my work but do not ask me to change what I specifically stated above.

ENJOYYYYYY!!!

THE VAULT:

Take what you like. I'm very generous! ⋆˚࿔

JUJUTSU KAISEN

— stick & shift ,, s.gojo

— owed karma ,, t.fushiguro

— sweet lazy kisses ,, h.higuruma

— stay out my kitchen ,, s.gojo

— in more ways than one ,, k.nanami

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