#happy birthday naoya! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dellalyra · 29 days

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𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙬𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙣’𝙨 𝙙𝙖𝙮

ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ ꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴇxᴛʀᴀ

A/N: hello it is i pixie emerged from hibernation to drop you this month late extra of our favourite family and then crawl back into my lair.

cw: the usual swearing, mentions of sexism, menstruation and female reproductive system, suggestive ending.

“No way! See I heard it had something to do with that little twerp from the Zen’in clan. Navel - or nacho or whatever the fuck his name is.”

“Ugh - why does that not even surprise me. He’s such a shithead, like you should have seen the look on his face when my mom interjected at a Jujutsu higher ups event she muscled her way into. Honestly it’s gotta be like - microscopic. Oh and it’s Navel now - never using Naoya again.”

Shoko and you had just been out on a girls day out, just the two of you - a visit to the arcade, lunch, some shopping and an exhibition on the human body. It had to be done, girl time was integral to maintaining a sense of sanity when the other 50% of the friend group was G.S squared.

The gossip had continued back to the dorms, where you both stood holding bags of snacks and the days haul while you put in the key code.

The door swung open and there stood Satoru Gojo, and Suguru Geto - both decked in pink party hats and shouting ‘surprise!’ (okay, gojo was shouting - geto was just saying).

“Jesus Christ!”

“What the fuck?!”

The camaraderie that came from the jumpscare resulted in Shoko and you both swearing and jumping in surprise at the sudden appearance.

Before either of you could react any further to it, long arms still a bit unaware of his strength, tug you both into a bonecrushing hug.

Shoko twists Satoru’s nipple through his shirt so he shrieks and lets you both you (you hide your disappointment).

You look at Geto, who winks with a devilish smirk and turn to the wall where the table is laid out with both you and Shoko’s favourites and a giant handmade poster on the wall with “Happy International Women’s Day” in large bubble writing.

Suddenly the confused silence was broken as a cheerful voice started singing, and was then accompanied by a louder Satoru.

“Happy InternationalWomen’sDay to you, Happy InternationalWomen’sDay to you! Happy InternationalWomen’sDay Shoko and Y/N, Happy InternationalWomen’sDay to you!” echoed with far too many syllables in the tune of ‘happy birthday’ across the room as Haibara emerged from the kitchen, with a strange red blob shaped cake in his hands followed by a very unhappy looking Nanami Kento.

The cake was placed on the table as you and Shoko looked at it in confusion - it was a red colour frosting on a cake shaped like a weird triangle with two squiggles coming from the sides joined to two cupcakes. For the life of you - and Shoko too if the look on her face was anything to go by - you had no idea what the cake was meant to be.

Suguru’s smirk was unnerving as he looked between you both.

“Shoko-senpai and Y/N-senpai! So strong, and powerful, and clever and pretty! Not that being pretty is important for being a woman - it’s just a bonus - not that it’s not great that you’re pretty, because it is, like it’s amazing! If I was into girls I’d definitely be into you both! But it’s not what makes you amazing!” Haibara says, clapping his hands.

“The strongest, most powerful, clever and cunning and most beautiful girls! We couldn’t do any of this without you. Well, I could -” Satoru starts.

“Satoru.” Geto warns.

“Okay, maybe I sometimes need backup and you girls are definitely the best choices after Suguru!” He finishes.

“That was barely complimentary.” Nanami scowls.

“We love and respect you both!” Satoru says.

“Some love you more than others…” Suguru smirks.

“Equally! Equally! We love you all equally and in a very friendly, respectful, and caring way!” Satoru says, kicking Suguru’s shin.

This whole time, you and Shoko had just been staring between them all.

“What the fuck…” Shoko whispers.

“Ditto…” You pipe in.

Satoru pops pink party poppers in both your faces and then Suguru uses the distraction to place a party hat on both your heads.

“Shoko - you save our asses, sometimes literally on an almost daily basis. Your no nonsense attitude and ability to care for us all and unflappable nature is a core reason we’re all here and we would be lost without you. You’re also underhandedly funny, and we’re very thankful to have you in our lives.” Suguru says, smooth and steady as always, and elbows a fidgeting Satoru.

“Y/N! You - are so awesome! You’re smart, and funny, and kind, and you make sure we’re all safe and strong and it’s so cool when you kick ass and I love exorcising with you - and your cursed technique is so cool and you work so hard and I don’t really respect many people but I definitely respect you! You’re also beautiful but that’s not important - not that you’re not like, importantly pretty! Because I think it’s very important that everyone knows you’re so pretty!” Came a gushing scramble of words from the usually overconfident Satoru - because complimenting the one person who has ever made him nervous was a bit of a shock to the system of the Honoured One.

For a moment, you and Shoko just stood in bewildered silence - still holding hands from when you walked in.

Before you look at each other, and simultaneously double over in hysterical laughter - clutching onto each other for support.

“This was so fucking strange, but I love it - we love it. Thank you boys, for this. It’s really appreciated.”

“That’s because we - appreciate you!” Gojo says, pointing between the four boys.

You hug all the boys, while Shoko inspects the cake on the table.

“Is this a Magikarp or something?” She asks, head tilted as she examines the red blob.

“It’s a uterus!” Haibara exclaims.

After trying to figure it out - the cupcakes where the ovaries should be and the triangle the uterus itself… it makes slightly more sense - but maybe International Women’s Day would be spent with an anatomy lesson from Shoko.

“Kid, listen - today we are going to be extra respectful of our girls, yeah?” Satoru says, opening the bag of pastries he had bought for breakfast the night before after Megumi talked him out of attempting to make pancakes. Megumi nodded, and placed the two bouquets of flowers on the two chairs his mom and sister usually sat in.

“They’re both very, very important to us. Sometimes, kid - the world is really shit for girls. A lot more than it is for us. Things that might be a bit difficult for us - not for me, but others - would be really hard for girls.”

“Periods.” Megumi grimaces, but nods solemnly.

“Yeah. But other things too. Like sometimes girls get less money for the same jobs, and people try to tell them how to look or how to act - or, no joke, tell them what they can do with their own body! Even simple stuff, like sometimes it’s dangerous for girls to go certain places, or people might expect less from them just because they’re girls.”

“Even for Mama?” Megumi asks, confused because from his perspective, the woman who has raised him the past 2 years is the most powerful (second to Gojo, but don’t tell him that) and formidable person he knows, and the kindest and funniest.

"Sometimes especially for her. Y/N is really strong, yeah?" Gojo asks, taking out a jug of juice and placing it on the table, before scribbling on one of your cinnimaroll post it notes and sticking it on the jug.

"Yeah." Megumi nods.

"Do you think that's scary?" Gojo asks.

"I think it's cool." The boy shrugs.

"Some men don't. They think she doesn't deserve it, or she is too weak to hold such a power - did you know your mama had more disciplinary meetings at school than I did?" Gojo says as he switches the kettle on.

"Why? Yaga-san said you were a nightmare student." Megumi is shocked at the thought.

"I was. But what's the difference between me and your mom?" Gojo says, pulling down 4 mugs. One with two puppies, one with the Winx Club characters on it, another with ‘Daddy Cool’ in big obnoxious yellow writing and the last with the BTS logo in purple.

"She isn't annoying."

"Okay, rude."

"She's a girl."

"Yep. That's why. Your - your Uncle Suguru was special grade too - and he and I did some crazy shit - and we got slaps on the wrist mostly, but your mom was late with a mission report one time because she was sick and they gave her extra work for a month. Aunty Koko too."

"But why?"

"Because weak men fear powerful women."

"That's dumb."

"Super dumb."

“Something girls in my class get notes sent home even though they didn’t do anything really bad.” Megumi scowls.

“That’s why we gotta fight to make sure we’re not part of the problem, and stop boys who are.” Satoru says, placing the heated pastries on the table.

“Like fighting them?”

“Sometimes they’re not even worth the effort, kid. Just stick up for girls and never treat them as anything less than a boy - okay? There’s shit girls deal with that we will never go through or understand.”

“Oh, like the stuff you and mama talked about with the girls my age in the Zen’in clan?”

“Your cousins, yeah.”

“And why the higher ups are dicks to mama’s family?”

“Exactly! You’re so smart you have to have gotten it from me.” Gojo smiles, hands on hips in his frilly apron.

“That’s not even possible.”

“Yes it is, I made it possible.” Satoru’s just winding the 9 year old up at this point.

“You’re impossible.” Megumi growls.

“Your hair’s impossible!” Satoru blows a raspberry.

“A slow start to the day is impossible, apparently.” Came your voice from where you stood leaning against the archway to the kitchen, a sleepy smile on your face in your fluffy blue robe and bunny slippers. Tsumiki padded up behind you, much brighter and a definite morning person.

“Happy international women’s day, my amazing girlie pops!” Satoru claps and scoops you both into the air with ease, giggles resounding through the room.

Megumi just scrunches his nose, staring bewildered at where the man gets his energy.

“Thank you, ‘Toru. You’re very sweet to do this.” You kiss him with a smile and walk to sit down at the table.

“Not as sweet as that a-” Satoru starts, but is swiftly cut off my Megumi’s disgusted groan, unable for his guardians flirting just yet.

You sit down and sniff the bouquet on your chair, delighting in the assortment of your favourite flowers, as Tsumiki does the same beside you.

“Happy women’s day, mama and Tsumiki.” Megumi nods, quiet but clear.

“Thanks, ‘gumi!” Tsumiki smiles, ruffling her younger brother’s spiky black hair.

“Thanks, sweet boy.” You wink at him.

As you go to pour yourself some juice, you can’t stop the giggle at the stick note on the carton.

‘Respect Women Juice’

“Yo, mini-me, did you grab the Doriyaki on the way home?” A 44 year old Satoru asks his 17 year old son who’s entering the kitchen.

“Yeah, I got extra too because ‘Rai’s been crabby so I think she’s due shark week.” The boy says, snatching a mochi from the box before Satoru could.

“Your mom too…” Satoru’s head turns sharply.

“Oh shit.”

“It’s happened…”

“We can do this - dad.” His son says with a straight, serious face as they both examine the calender.

“We just gotta be the best husband, son and brother ever.” Satoru nods.

“Well… that won’t be hard.” Akio smirks, only 2 inches shorter than his dad and growing.

“Of course it won’t. We’re the strongest.” Satoru says, doing his ridiculously intricate secret handshake with his son.

A moment later, two sets of feet pad down the stairs.

43 year old you and your 14 year old daughter walk into the room, your arms snugly wrapped around your little girl’s shoulders.

You knew what to expect on March 8th every year by now, it had been 25 years of it.

“Happy international women’s day, my incredible wife and mind blowing daughter.” Satoru says with a smile and open arms spanning half the kitchen.

“25 years of this and it still gives me butterflies, thank you ‘Toru.” You say, pressing a kiss to your husbands jaw by dragging his collar down to meet you.

“Thanks dad, thanks ‘Kio!” Mirai claps and hugs them both.

“Thank you, mochi.” You say, also dragging your too-tall son’s collar down to press a kiss to his cheek.

As you all sit down to breakfast, and chatter aimlessly, Satoru pulls you to sit on his lap as always.

“Oh, ‘Rai, I’m gonna go into the mall to pick up my new Nikes too - do you want to come?” Akio says, and even though this is a regular occurrence - it warms your heart every time to see that your two babies aren’t only siblings, but also best friends - genuinely enjoying each other’s company and actively seeking each other out. Something tells you that will never change, either.

“Sounds good, do you still want to try that new boba place? The one with the cat logo?” Mirai says, googling the opening times and showing it to her brother.

“Bring me back a brown sugar milk tea?” You plead, the same look on your face as when 17 year old you got excited for boba dates with Satoru.

“Course, Mama. Papa, do you want one?” Mirai asks, her long snowy white hair bushy and wild from bed head inherited from you.

Satoru smiles, hand rubbing circles against your hip as Mirai types his order into her notes.

“Is Aunty Koko still coming over tonight?” Akio asks, looking up at you with eyes just like his father’s.

“She is, I think Uncle Cho too. I was thinking we’d order pizza.” You raise an eyebrow.

“Yes, mom - you actually have mind reading technique I swear.” He pats your head as if you weren’t his mother.

The two kids wander to get dressed, leaving you still sipping coffee curled against your husbands broad chest.

Your phone dings with a notification from the family group chat, and Satoru nudges you to open it.

A selfie, clearly taken by Yuuji, face scarred and older but beaming expression unchanged - featuring a taller, sharper 31 year old Megumi with a toddler in each arm, looking out over the ocean at sunset.

“They seem bigger every time I see them.” Satoru laughs.

“The twins or Yuuji and Megs?” You giggle.

“Both. Still can’t believe ‘Gumi had the audacity to grow up so much. I specifically told him to stop.”

“Eh? Satoru - imagine how I feel! Both our sons are at least a foot taller than me! Try talking to a kid when you need a step stool to look them in the eye!” You poke his cheek.

“Nawh, poor baby. You’re as pocket sized as the day I met that pretty girl holding a ladybug waiting for introduction at Jujutsu Tech. Gonna carry you around in my pocket.” Your husband teases, squishing your frowning cheeks.

“Yeah, yeah - alright daddy long legs.”

“Seriously though - we should take another trip to Malaysia, get Cho to stay with the kids. We can ask the boys where they stayed, looks pretty as hell.”

“Let’s do it, pretty boy.” You kiss the corner of his lips.

“You know… the kids are gone all afternoon…” He says, large hands squeezing your waist.

“They are… and it just so happens I just bought something very, very pretty to try on.” You raise an eyebrow, biting your lip.

“Oh? A private fashion show?” He says, thumb on your lower lip.

“Just for my ‘Toru.”

“Invite really fuckin’ accepted, princess.”

#jjk #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #dad!gojo

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fizee · 17 days

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Non Disclosure Agreement 📃🖋️

Naoya x Reader | 3.3k | 18+ only!

Includes: female!reader, femdom!reader, man ass getting ate, submissive!naoya (mostly).

Content Warnings: consensual sexual asphyxiation, blatant cheating, prostitution, casual sexism.

Part of the Jujutsu Journal collab hosted by @ayyy-pee, thank you so much for including me! A big thank you to @mysteria157 for beta'ing extensively for me, as well as a couple of my close friends, and a big happy birthday to (you know who you are)

Naoya hates the rain.

Even in the summer months it’s less refreshing to him and more of a nuisance- sticky, damp, and everywhere. It pitters and soaks into his clothes and he would have brought an umbrella- if this was a place where anyone cared about getting rained on.

It's not.

The hotel is dingy and not worthy of the sad little three star review rating it managed to gain. The pavement he steps over is cracked, and the entrance he steps through is worn. Whatever. It suits his needs, even if it makes his clothes stink. He’d never get recognized in this part of town.

He gives the front desk clerk a cursory glance- feeling snide at the state of his wrinkled shirt and miserably nonchalant disposition. Naoya doesn’t have to check in, nobody does here. But he drops cash on the desk and keeps walking, not caring if it’s too much or too little.

You had already texted him the room number. He wonders if a place like this even has an elevator.

He turns down the hall and is only mildly surprised to find that there is, indeed, an elevator, despite this place only having three stories. It’s got trace amounts of rust. It squeals when the doors slide open.

He glances at his watch, tapping the screen to pull up your text. 36. He scoffs to himself. You and your third floors. Something about feeling unsafe on the first floor, which is stupid. He’s never understood that about you.

He finds the room quickly, ignoring the fact that as he gets closer, his collar feels tighter. It’s been too long since he’s seen you. He swears he can smell your perfume over all the mildew in the disgusting sixty year old hallway carpet. The perfume was his choice, of course. A birthday gift. You had almost refused it, saying that you don’t take gifts from clients and blah blah blah. He’s not one to look a horse in the mouth, so he had made you suck his cock to earn it. It does smell good on you.

He knocks quickly, six short thuds on the door. He doesn’t bother to try the handle, he knows it’s locked. He gives a quick glance at the hallway around him when he hears the door unlock, and watches the handle turn.

“Mr. Zenin.” You greet him with a graceful smile. He rolls his eyes and walks past you into the room, not wanting to linger in the hallway.

“You’re late,” you accuse sweetly. “A half hour late, to be precise.”

“Put it on my tab.” He grumbles. You just smile, approaching him and helping him out of his coat just how he likes, smoothing your hands out over his back as you do. You hook the coat over the crooked little hanger that juts out of the wall, looking stupidly bespoke on outdated wallpaper.

He takes a seat unceremoniously in the faded pink chair sitting opposite the bed.

“This place is a dump.” He says. He eyes your clothes- pink and flowy, opaque but not thick enough to hide your shape. It flows over you like water, and his collar feels tighter. You smile gently and walk over to press your palms into his shoulders from behind.

“Dumps keep secrets.” You murmur. His hair smells good. You press your face to it and kiss him gently.

“Far cry from Aman,” He complains, reminding you of the hotel you had met each other in, all the way across the world.

“God, I haven’t thought of that place in years,” You run your fingers in the dips of his collarbones, laughing gently, “You were the only sober one at that party, stuck out like a sore thumb.”

“And you were the only whore not hanging off a man’s neck.”

“What can I say?” You undo the top few buttons of his shirt to expose his skin to your warm touch, “I’ve got… refined tastes.”

He hums. His watch dings once but he doesn’t bother to check it. He runs a hand over his jaw, reminiscing of how you had looked in that party room, full of investment cucks and coke addicted businessmen and glittery, shimmering whores. You seemed to almost glow under the dim lights, alone, calling to him with your gaze.

He sighs.

“Long day?” You ask.

“Long month.” He mutters bitterly. “You didn’t return my calls.”

“I was on vacation.” You dig your fingers into his trapezius soothingly, finding the spots that make him melt gooey like butter.

“Since when do whores take vacations?”

“Since filthy rich married men started paying them extra.”

He snorts. He reaches up and grabs your hand, pressing his mouth to your warm fingertips.

“Did you miss me?” You ask playfully, ducking your head to giggle in his ear, “Or did you miss my-“

You’re cut off when he grabs your face and holds you so he can plant a slightly slobbery kiss on your lips. Your glossy red lipstick smears on his mouth. He has his belt unbuckled by the time he releases his hold on you, but you frown for a moment.

“I thought you didn’t drink?” You had definitely tasted the alcohol on his tongue, but drunk he did not seem. Far from it. He’s looking up at you with an icy clarity.

“I don’t.”

“Mhmm. Does Mrs. Zenin know?”

“You’re a cunt,” he says, but there is no real bite behind it. “A stupid cunt. Suck me off.”

“Is that really what you want?” You snake around the chair, putting yourself in his lap. It’s a bit awkward with the bulky, ugly chair, but you manage to press the very core of you where he's most sensitive. Your hands drift up his chest and rest at his neck, and you lean in to whisper against his mouth.

“You’ll have work for that.” You kiss him gently. “Unless, of course, you can ask nicely for once.”

His mouth pulls into a half hearted sneer but his cheeks glow pink. His eyes meet yours and his pupils are wide and dark and calm, two tiny black lakes.

His silence is his answer.

“You really did miss me,” You murmur sweetly, bringing your hands up to press around his neck, thumbs securely pressed on either side of his windpipe. You press hard. His face slowly goes red. His hips jerk in pavlovian response. You can feel the hard length of him against the curve of your ass, begging to be free of his pants.

He gasps finally, Inhaling quickly through his constricted throat. He doesn’t avert his eyes from yours, looking at you desperately while you grind against him and tighten your grip on his neck even more. His hands grab at the arms of the chair, his knuckles turning white. He tries to keep his breathing even, but it comes in quick, needy huffs.

“I hope you can be good for me tonight.” You coo. You kiss him. He whines, attempting to chase your mouth when you pull away, but you keep an iron grip on his neck, preventing him from moving more than an inch.

You give him one more hard press into his lap and you can tell he’s already close, and so soon! His eyes are slightly glazed, drool threatening to drip from his open mouth. You'd bet all the money he’s paying you that he’s already leaking if you reached and touched him.

You release him suddenly, rubbing over his shoulders while he gasps for a full breath. He keeps his palms firmly to the chair, resisting the urge to grab you and hold you to him and ruin the ridiculously expensive pants he’s got on.

You slide off his lap and stand to soak in the view- the red streaks chasing over his neck, the tent in his pants.

“Stand up. Clothes off.” You tell him, dropping your robe to the floor. You don’t strip down like he begins to do, instead leaving the matching slip covering your body.

You hum in approval as he removes his shirt, eating up the lovely shape of his body. He’s always taken care of himself, almost obsessively so. His pants are next to go, and then the non descript black briefs.

He averts his eyes as he stands before you, nude. His erection twitches in the cold air.

“Got some tanning done, did you?” You step in and pet over his taught stomach, grazing low to tease him.

“Malibu.” He says, some of that snide returning, “and you could have come with me if you’d returned my calls.”

“I remember that. Some of your twitter fanboys posted about it. I doubt Mrs. Zenin would have appreciated me coming with you on a family trip.”

“Wasn’t really a family trip.” He grits out as you feather over his hips, his thighs, appreciating what a specimen he is. “The boys stayed with the nanny the whole time. And she just-“ he grunts when you reach lower and touch his balls, avoiding his cock alltogether, “She’s a prize tuna, I’ll give her that. Not like you.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s an extra six hundred if you want me to listen to you badmouth your wife. Get on the bed.”

He looks like he's going to say something, mouth parting and brow furrowing. You peer at him warmly, your pupils as blown as his. He closes his mouth, deciding not to say whatever was knocking around in his head, and climbs onto the bed without fanfare.

You watch him closely, enjoying the view of his nude body splayed out and primed for you to play with. He’s flushed everywhere he’s sensitive- his face, his chest, his cock. Without stimulation you see it already going half soft, so you kneel onto the bed over him and place your palm against his head. He gasps and jerks, grabs your wrist but quickly loosens his grip and just holds you there.

“C’mon,” he pleads. Though he’d cuss and whine if you described it as pleading. He ruts himself against your palm, his teeth dig into his lower lip. It's not enough but it’s also too much. He’s always been sensitive.

“You could ask.” You say, knowing he won’t. You pull away and his fingers twitch with the need to take himself in hand.

“You’re a bitch.” He says. “Evil fucking bitch.”

You laugh. It’s a light and gentle thing. He doesn’t think about how nice it sounds.

“You really know how to talk to a lady, huh?” You press on his shoulder, making him lay back fully.

“I can hardly call you a lady.” He’s got a hungry look in his eyes. He looks good laying there- hair slightly ruffled, cheeks pink. It’s a sight you’ve seen a dozen times but you’ll never grow tired of.

He lays still, waiting. He glowers at you while you make him wait. You come up near his head and sling a leg over his neck.

“Maybe this will shut you up.” You hike up the slip you wear and grin down at him. No, of course you’re not wearing anything underneath it. He doesn’t hesitate to grab your thighs and shove his nose into the neat curls there and lick a hot wet stripe into your core.

You’ve been wet and swollen for a while. It’s nearly conditioned. You feel a slight tingle every time he calls you, wanting to see you. Wanting to fuck you. But now you’re soaked, your cunt wetting his face without shame, arching your back when he finds your clit and sucks on it desperately.

You lock your thighs around his head, cutting off nearly all the airflow he would’ve managed to get before. He likes it. You reach behind you and grip the base of him, feeling him twitch and pulse. He suckles on your clit til you’re keening- and right as you squeeze his cock a little harder and your hips jerk a little more desperately, he shifts and his tongue delves deep into your dripping hole, licking and practically drinking you down. You make a choked little whimper, so close to release.

You grab his hair and hold him beneath you, grinding your cunt into his mouth and nose and eating up every muffled noise he makes. His tongue works hungrily, desperate to please you, delving as deep as he can into your cunt and searching out the spots that make you gasp and moan sweetly for him.

He swipes his tongue just right, and you fall over the edge, grunting and whimpering and twitching all over.

You roll over from on top of him and he gasps wildly, hair ruined and mouth wet and swollen pink. He just looks at you as you gain your breath, your insides gooey and warm and pulsing with aftershocks. He gives you a small, coy little smile.

“I guess I’m not the only one who was missing it.”

You shove at him playfully, all pretense falling away for a moment. You sit up to clear your head, not forgetting that he’s still hard, and leaking, and needy.

“Turn over. Hands and knees.” You tell him. His blush returns tenfold. He glances away from you in tentative embarrassment, though it’s obvious that what he’s hoping for isn’t going to be damped by a little thing like shame. He doesn’t have to be a shameful creature with you.

He does as you command, rolling over and propping himself up on his elbows and knees, his back already slightly arched. You’re definitely appreciating the view. He hides his face from you.

“Oh, wow.” You grin. “Smooth as butter, huh?”

“Shut up.” He snaps, his voice muffled by the pillow. You take a moment to really see the view of him- his tight pink hole is smooth and perfect, obviously recently waxed. Or maybe even lasered. You never know with him. You run your fingers over him, light as a whisper, dragging a caress over his cock to his balls and finally to his hole. It twitches. Cute.

“I should take a picture, pretty as you are.” You say. You grab his cheeks in each of your hands, spreading him fully.

He mutters something about our NDA, something about you being a bitch. You don’t really pay any mind as you lean over him and spit out a thick glob of saliva over the tight ring of muscle, making him gasp.

He goes perfectly still In anticipation, his dick jerking with every lick you apply to him. You drag your tongue against his perineum up to his hole- he tastes clean, like only salt. You know he’s obsessive with how he grooms himself. Saliva slowly runs down, leaving a trail of wet across his balls.

You slip your hand under him to grab his length to give him one long, smooth pull, earning a tiny little whimper from him. You plant your mouth fully on his hole, tongue rubbing circles into the muscle. You jerk him off slowly, too slow to ever bring him to completion. He whines and twitches under your touch and you feel a throb deep in your core for the way he’s trembling.

You bring your head away from him earning a slight wet pop as your mouth breaks the seal it had over his hole, leaving your drool to cool on his heated skin. You slide your hand over his cock faster, gathering up his precum to make the slide easier, your grip is intense and tightens more around the base, pulling down and milking him like some breeding stud. His hips begin to move in the air, and the noises he makes, muffled by the pillow, are throaty and low. You know how he sounds when he’s close, how he shakes with the climb, and when he nears his peak you abruptly pull away to deny him. He groans loudly in frustration and need, and finally looks over his shoulder to glare at you, his fucked out expression not hiding his irritation.

“I don’t want you ruining the sheets.” You say. He catches on immediately, sitting up and grabbing you to put you under him. He practically rips the slip from your body, the fabric strains and the stitches pop, pulling it up and over your head so he can press his flushed skin against yours.

You almost protest, you actually did like that dress, but he kisses you with teeth and growls something about buying you a new one. He grabs your breasts roughly and you feel the length of him pillowing itself against your lips. But he doesn’t do more than that, rutting against your cunt and swallowing your noises with his mouth. He whines.

“Naoya,” You say, when your hot tongues part, “Naoya-“

He grabs your hips and positions you perfectly to plunge his aching cock into your slick heat, as desperate as an animal, and just as rough.

The sudden intrusion makes you cry out in pleasure, his thrusts coming in quick, needy bursts. He presses his sweaty brow into the pillow under your head. His hands hold your waist like a lifeline, his need ramming inside of yours, jerking and twitching and hot and wet. He kisses your cervix with every pump, leaving you breathless and needy.

But you know he can’t finish properly like this. You can see it when he pulls back to look at you, his face flushed and his mouth open and drooling. You wind your hands around his throat and squeeze, blocking his air and turning his noises into tiny pathetic gasps and wheezes. It doesn’t take long. His hips stutter and he finally, finally finds what he’s looking for, tipping over and cumming so hard he stops even trying to breathe. You feel every drop of him rush out to paint your insides, his cock throbbing hot within your liquid-warm walls.

You release his throat and he takes a sharp, ragged inhale, his body locking up with the rush of oxygen and endorphins. His cock pulses inside of you again as if his balls aren’t spent completely, and you feel his cum finding its way to the entrance of your hole and spilling out around his length, way too much to be plugged up inside.

“Fuck,” He grunts, “fuck.”

You hum and run your palms up his sides and down his back where you can reach as he pieces his senses back together. He pulls from your core and you hiss in strange pleasure and slight soreness.

He rolls to the side and slumps on the bed, breathing deep and enjoying the afterglow. You wiggle your hips, feeling him leak out of you even more, thick and warm.

You’re both silent for a few minutes. His watch dings right as you turn to touch his chest, his arms, run your fingers over the angry red on his neck.

He glances at it. Groans in pure discontent.

“Work?” You trace his nipple with an idle finger.

“Yes.” He sits up, glancing over the mess of the bed. “I’ve got an eight o’clock tomorrow, apparently.”

“You can’t cancel?” You shift and stretch, not missing how his eyes graze over your body. “You’ve already booked me for twenty four hours.”

“No.” He says, simply. “Obligations… responsibilities… I don’t know, whatever bullshit you want to call it.”

“Do you want a shower?” You lean over and press your smeared mouth to his shoulder, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “I mean, of course it’s disgusting, but you don’t want to go home smelling like… well, you know.”

Naoya breathes, long and deep. Then he looks back at you.

“You getting in with me?”

A/N: “Tuna” is a term in Japanese hookup culture that can be equated to a ‘pillow princess’ in an extreme sense. There’s nothing wrong with being a pillow princess, but I personally believe it’s not something this Naoya is particularly into.

Thank you so much for reading!

#JujutsuJournal #Naoya Zenin x Reader #Naoya x Reader #jjk #x reader #fem reader #Reader x Naoya #naoya zenin #jjk naoya #jujutsu kaisen #i don't even fw naoya that much tbh #fizee.post

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shysheeperz · 5 months

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ghxstic · 2 years

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imaaaagine naoya n getou fighting who gets 2 fuck an heir in2 u tbhhhh and gojo 😵‍💫💗💗

LITERALLY ! ! THIS IS RLLY SHORT, BUT YK, SHORT N SWEET also i forgor gojo 😭

ALSO HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABY <33 I LOVE YOU SMMMMM <333

cw. breeding, mating press, impregnation, voyeur, etc .

you don't even know how you got here, yet here you were folded into a tight mating press, naoya's fat cock bullying it's way inside your warm cunt, fucking his cum deep inside you, he needed to make sure your cunt was stuffed with his cum. that you would bare his child. give him a healthy baby boy to carry out his legacy. not getou's offspring.

the cult leader watched as the greedy zenin fucked you senseless, he watched as drool gently rolled down your chin, watching as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, as desperate babbles left your glossy lips. a knowing smirk adored his lips as he watched, he didn't need to worry, he had already stuffed you with his load countless time before, even a few minutes before the zenin came along. it would be fun watching the devastation cross naoya's face when he sees your child with the same dark hair and dark eyes that getou has.

there's always next time for naoya, right?

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derangederensimp · 2 years

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Jujutsu Kaisen One Shots Smut and Fluff

May do several parts if requested. Fluff and plot involved.

Birthday Surprise (Toji x Reader x Gojo x Nanami Foursome)

Not A Mistake (Virgin Nanami Kento x Reader College AU)

It’s just one of those days (Toji x Reader)

You’re Mine (Naoya Zenin x Reader)

You’re Mine Pt 2 (Naoya Zenin x Reader)

You’re Mine Pt 3 Final (Naoya Zenin x Reader)

Mini Skirt (Geto Suguru x Reader)

Just as Planned (Nanami Kento x Reader)

Just as Planned Pt 2 (Nanami Kento x Reader) [planned]

But A Dream (Gojo Sensei x Reader)

But A Dream Pt 2 (Gojo Sensei x Reader)

But A Dream Pt 3 (Gojo Sensei x Reader)

So Obedient (Toji x Reader Exhibitionism) [planned]

Your Boss Nanami Part 1 (Nanami x Reader)

You’ve Been Gone Too Long Pt 1 Fluff (Gojo x Reader)

Your coworker Toji Part 1 (Mean Dom Toji x Reader)

Your coworker Toji Part 2

Gojo x Reader [ Virgin Sub - planned]

Choso x reader [Sub - planned]

Mahito’s Girl [planned]

Kinktober

Dad Choso Fluff

Your Neighbor Naoya

Jealous Choso

Happy Birthday Satoru Gojo

Happy Birthday Toji Fushiguro

True Form Sukuna x Fem Reader but Devils line inspired

True Form Sukuna x Fem Reader

Mahito Kinktober Day 1 Part 2

Fitness Trainer Toji

Your Roomate Toji

Toji Head canons

You Made A Mess Toji smut

Needy Toji

Open for requests of scenarios 💛 please read through the rules of what I will not write about.

Want to be apart of a taglist? Comment below🥹

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lightlycareless · 11 months

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First, it hurts— Chapter XXXI

Naoya Zen’in x Fem!Reader

While arranged marriages are not uncommon in the jujutsu community, it was strange to receive a proposal from none other than the Zen’in’s, nonetheless your clan accepted and before you knew it, you were married off to Naoya.

Your new purpose was clear: to serve and submit, to be seen and not heard. To forget any sense of individuality in favor of obeying your husband.

Will this marriage ever flourish into something else? Will it change…for better or for worse?

Chapter warnings: slight mentions of abuse (It’s Y/N reflecting on her relationship with Naoya most of the time) implications of infidelity (emotional, I suppose) fertility, and awkward interactions of two people that do not get along—and what other's think of it lol. This chapter is pretty light compared to others 😅

A/N: nothing much except... I'm back! I enjoyed that small birthday break heheh, thank you so much for your patience!!

Now, without any further ado, happy reading! 🥰

Masterlist ➸ Chapter 32

Ao3 link.

"Do you want to get something to eat?" Is a question that brings you an immeasurable amount of unsavory memories.

Beginning with Naoya's interposition.

He knew very well that by saying those words he'd be cornering you into a spot you would have no way to get out —at least not easily— effectively reminding you that he had you under his control, down to the smallest, insignificant details. In that matter, it was almost naïve to believe that today would end without further precedent after the doctor's visit. After all, the day was just beginning.

From there, the catapult of the actions that followed soon after. For some reason, perhaps wanting to avoid meeting anyone else, Naoya's past paramour is the first thing that comes to mind.

You'd like to say that you weren't affected in any shape or form by her existence and her role in Naoya's romantic life, but the fact that a woman who was no longer allegedly involved with him earned far more respect than you, his legitimate wife, hurt you more than you'd like to admit.

And that's without considering how you felt about his imprudent behavior, how Naoya allowed her to be beyond comfortable with him, followed by his unwanted instigation, intended to irk you into lashing at her for flirting with your husband, only to be angry when you didn't proceed as planned, derailing you into giving him a spoonful of your burning honesty, which lead you to the most painful moment of your life yet—One that made your heart sink, and your eyes water, just by even thinking of it.

Maybe if you'd fought harder, denied his invitation to get food, you wouldn't have bumped into his past lover, wouldn't have gotten into an argument with Naoya, and consequently, your survival wouldn't hand on a thread, one so delicate… that was to be broken simply for your ability to have children.

So no, all things considered, you did not want to go "get something to eat" with him.

You don't want to go through that same circle of hell just because he felt in dire need of a distraction. You didn't want to leave the estate in the first place, only doing so for the stated purposes of seeking the answer you needed relating to your health, the ones that the doctor was willing to professionally give anyways, and head back with this precious information to ease both the worries of those that genuinely cared for you, and your troubled mind.

Naoya was nothing but a step towards your goal, and now that that was done, you no longer need to pay attention to his demands…

But even when you already avoided what was to be the worst outcome, courtesy of his own father, it wasn’t enough to halt your husband from making the same decisions as before.

If anything, you hoped that the fear of repetition would’ve convinced him to halt the charade he was putting on with you, head straight back home, and go on with his life—but alas, that was not to happen, and it seems you’d have to take matters into your own hands.

"No, I’m not hungry. Thank you" is all that you say, diplomatically yet sternly as possible, to show that your answer was indisputable, as you continue towards the car, stopping when you are a few inches away from the door, eyes set on the handle waiting for him to unlock it.

"We still have the rest of the day" Naoya attempts to sway your decision, just as expected, but you react accordingly by ignoring his words and furthermore, denying him a reaction.

This stirs frustration inside him, but Ranta’s lingering presence in the back of his mind keeps him at bay. It’s true that he doesn't want to push you away, but having to avoid this specific possibility was, as stated before, far more difficult than he ever anticipated—partaking in a life of privileges made it possible.

Still, he’s proven to be quite the difficult man to break down once he’s set his mind onto something, and with previous preparation, he’ll attempt to make you reconsider his offer in a way that would’ve appeared relatable to you…

If he hadn't been so blind to his own mistakes.

"Come on, we've been locked in the estate for days, don't you want to do something different?” He needled “Besides, you heard the doctor, you have to eat more if you want to be healthier—and we both know that’s not going to happen with my vegetarian family. I, for once, been wanting to get a hold of some protein"

You hold back the urge to scoff, loudly at least.

Was that his attempt to get you to open up with him? Engage with you? By comparing himself with you, as if he were stuck in the estate for the same reason as you?!

Now that was worth all the humiliation in the world!

You wanted to laugh.

Naoya was not even remotely similar to your situation, he should know so since he was the one that made it possible! Yet, he refused (or perhaps couldn’t. Poor, ignorant Naoya) to see it.

You desired to confront him by asking whose fault that was, who was the one behind the fact that you were kept away from your family and friends, without any reasonable way to contact them, forcing to spend the rest of your days at the estate—and if that wasn’t enough, you were also limited within the availability of certain facilities.

It was his own damn fault that you didn’t want anything to do with him, and yet, he foolishly goes on by acting as if you were the one that decided to wake up one uneventful morning and just lose your marbles!

There was even a moment where you actually believed he’d gained a sliver of self awareness after you stood up against his father for his sake —something you’ll probably regret forever— thanks to the distance he’d kept from you.

But after remembering the manner in which he questioned your motives immediately after, his “caution” regarding his father’s untapped cruelty, instead of appreciating what you've done, and now, this… well, it’s safe to say you've long given up on that dream.

It's obvious that there will never be accountability on his part.

This his world, you were just unfortunate enough to be a part of it.

"I want to go eat with you" he insists once more after seconds go by and you have yet to answer, or even acknowledge him outside of watching his reflection on the car's glossy surface.

"I'll stay in the car. I’ll wait here while you go out and eat" you murmur back, the fingers from your right hand now gently clutching the handle, showing both your determination and urgency to leave.

The gesture catches Naoya’s attention, which was not able to leave your hand the first time he saw you pull the handle the first time, washing him over with a despicable current of emotions, starting with anxiety.

“I’m not leaving without you" he counters, powering through his emotions and taking a step closer towards you, which unwittingly causes you to frown and tense up. Maybe through the eyes of others this would’ve been a rather… moving gesture, somewhat romantic for a man to not want to leave without the companionship of their partner, feeling undeniably lonely without it.

Or even the determination of not giving up on them, showing how willing they are to go against all odds to stay by their side.

But for you, it was far from alluring—

It was horrifying.

Naoya was growing desperate, you could hear it in his voice… causing your survival instincts to kick in.

Shall you…. Hold your breath, and dive into the ocean of your tremors?

Is it worth suffering the physical strain of swimming against the tide, in hopes that it will be a quick venture, and before you know it, you’d be back with the people you care for?

Finally safe and away from him?

Or shall you take the higher gamble and run away?

You hate being pushed in these kinds of situations, but for a woman of your circumstances, what was there to do?

The last option is definitely worth considering for a change, but it was one that came with the most flaws: you had no money, knew nothing of this city, and if you took into consideration Naoya's technique, you'd be caught before you even took one step outside the building—you're not as impressive as your sister when it came to stamina, or strength as your brother, and with your now out-of-shape body… there was no way you could put up a fight against him.

Perhaps a call for help would be much better?

… No. It just circles back to the previous point.

Naoya will simply outwit you. He’s going to stop you as soon as he catches wind of your intentions, and you dread to even think what kind of punishment would follow.

Since your life is already on a deadline, the only thing left to do is make your life even more miserable, with the most obvious thing that comes to mind: hindering what little socializing you have with the rest of the estate—it was a short list of people in that realm, but important nonetheless.

You couldn’t permit that. It meant losing too much already. Thus, it was of the utmost necessity to keep a channel of communication —at least for your sanity.

You want to roll your eyes.

Could you really be considered his wife after describing what was to occur to you if you dared to go against him? Of course not.

What you just detailed was a slave, not a wife. Certainly not his wife, companion of the heir of the Zen'in clan….

There must be sin you haven’t accounted for to have your life go this wrongfully.

It's after revisiting all these points that you finally concede to his request—a decision that was already made for you as soon as you agreed to go to the doctor with him— releasing your grasp from the representative door of your freedom, and turning around to face him.

"Ok" you say, eyes briefly on him before landing to the ground, the sight that was to accompany you for the rest of the day so as to avoid him, while clenching your hands. "I'll go with you"

You're not sure of it, maybe it was a fraction of your imagination or you were starting to see things, but through the briefest of moments you were relocating your gaze somewhere else, you swear to have seen a smile on Naoya's face.

A mirage that rattles you down to your very core. A disgusting admittance of submission to his demands, trapped in a passage with no escape, just how you felt this marriage has always been, and will continue to be.

"The place we’re going to is at a walking distance, so I’ll just leave the car here" Naoya says immediately after —as if your consideration had any value towards his decisions— a hint of excitement behind his words. His golden eyes quickly dart to your face, longing to see your reaction.

It’s a habit of his since the beginning of the day, one that you battle with another habit of yours, which is to be your indifference.

At this, the heir's excitement rapidly diminishes and he can’t do anything else but press his lips together in a comforting gesture to push down his staggering disappointment.

"Let's go" Naoya then motions to the exit. And you, now too deep to back out, exhale whatever remains of your unwillingness and begin to follow him—down to the first floor of the building, out the parking lot and onto the city—all with the peculiar requirement of staying a few steps behind him.

He attempts to slow down with the intention of putting you in the front, or at least beside him, but whenever you seem to catch him doing so, you retaliate by slowing down, to the point where virtually neither of you are walking anymore.

The sudden cessation was both intriguing and embarrassing to him, which prompts Naoya to look back at you, pensive eyes wanting to ask if there was something wrong… but you never give him the opportunity for that since your attention remains glued the ground, as if it were the most interesting thing to be found in the streets of a city you’ve only been to once, ignoring him completely—as well as faulting to see the oddity of your actions.

This would be the first time Naoya would play the role of the “bigger person” and spare you unsolicited comments about what you’re doing and simply going on with his path.

He eventually stops at the corner of the street alongside the rest of a gathering crowd, presumably people that were finally heading to work or school, with you catching up just a few moments later.

The two wait for the light to change, observing how the counter goes on painfully unhurried, allowing cars to cross the street. It’s only until they begin to slow down that this impatience begins to lift, with the light blinking to yellow, and then red.

The surrounding pedestrians don’t hesitate to start walking as soon as the green figure appears on their designated traffic light, in fact, they do so with such urgency that engulfs both you and Naoya with apprehension, leading their minds to believe they were trapped in the middle of a growing, human stampede—where the only way out was by either stepping aside, or be carried away by it.

With this caution in mind, Naoya keeps a close eye on you, instinctively grabbing your hand as soon as he believes to have seen someone bump into you, tightly holding onto it while continuing to lead you across the road.

Unfortunately, even if you carried the same worries, you were not of the same mindset, so as soon as you felt his large hand inviting himself on your body once more, something inside you snapped. Bidding you to writhe and complain against his hold, attempts that grew stronger and stronger upon realizing he was not budging.

Adrenaline makes your heart pound heavily against your chest, echoing through your throat and into the ringing of your ears. This sentiment only pours into your brimming containment of frustration, a ticking bomb that goes off once you finally allow the words that had been circling your mind escape through your lips.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” You seethed, and as if you’d been suddenly blessed with the extraordinary strength of your brother, you managed to harshly pull your arm in his opposite direction and free yourself from his grasp.

The sound of your voice is, although mostly deafened by the environment, still stands loud enough for those near you.

Sufficiently so, that for some the priority of arriving to their destination is halted, and replaced with awe and consternation they now looked at the conflicting couple with.

Their eyes and murmurs fell on your shoulders as a ton of bricks, which also forcefully snaps you out of rampaging trance and into the remembrance of the points you went through prior accepting Naoya’s request, as well as the damning actions that led you to your imminent death.

You were supposed to remain under the radar, quietly concede, but instead you’ve let your emotions get the best of you—with a crowd to act witness to, in a place that you were nothing but unfamiliar with, alone.

It was the same story as before, and your mind, which knows this all too well, swiftly begins to portray the way you envision Naoya reacting at your transgression. Depictions that intensify once you remember him to not be shy of an audience.

These thoughts are enough to drain the color of your face, as well as the strength of your voice, vision becoming blurry as you scurry to recover whatever was left to save.

"Na—Naoya—" you quavered, lifting your gaze from the ground and to his back, which you guessed would soon begin to shift, making way for his reddening gaze. You had to stop him before it came to that point, for your sake, for those back at the estate, for family! “I— I didn’t—”

"Let's move" But instead, that’s all that he says. Retracting his hand to the side as he pushes through the crowd, which was in the lower quantities now that most of them have already crossed to the other side "Were hindering the crosswalk"

He doesn't attempt to reach out to you after noticing the passerby’s reaction, and the thought stops crossing his mind. Still, remains close to you, attentive so as to not lose you in the crowd, continuing to guide you into the next destination, and all while he tries to deal with the agony of this scene.

The tone in which you referred to him at that particular moment is one he wishes to never hear again in his life. And not because it was to be considered rude, unladylike, a strike against his enormous ego (as noted by other relatives), or out of place as his wife; but rather… because it was nightmarish to experience it.

He'd seen your kindness, your gentleness, the soft spoken matter you've treated others—regardless if they were staff members or his relatives. Naoya has seen what your good nature is capable of, even when it pertains to his father, and yet… all that he ever gets is the dark side of your persona—the animosity, the hatred, the repulsion.

It’s not a stab he hasn’t received from you before, however, he doesn’t remember bleeding this much, nor can he figure out why he was suffering this much—yet to realize that your actions were nothing more than the consequences of his own doings, a slow comeuppance which briefly forces him to reflect on himself and ask what is wrong with me?

…

Only to conclude that it was his brother the one to sharpen your knife—an extension of just how close the two have gotten with one another, even if nothing intimate had occurred yet.

Back then, he would’ve thought of Naoaki as being nothing more than jealous of his own achievements, of his belongings—he’d always been that way, so it was only expected he’d continue playing the part.

But the more he thinks of it, the less it makes sense.

Because in what world would a man be jealous of something… he already has?

The walk seems to help cool down the flurry of emotions inside one another, enough to arrive at the place he intended to get a small bite from without any further precedent, but not enough to stop their inner thoughts from lingering behind to that moment: With you wondering if Naoya allowed this “incident” to slip his mind in favor of dealing with it later, while he kept on prodding open the wound your harsh words had inflicted on his heart, and on a much lower level, why nothing he keeps doing today seems to work for in his favor—certainly all had been far different from what Ranta had envisioned! Is there something he has yet to realize?

The restaurant that he decided to take you to was nothing more than a couple of blocks away, 3 to be precise, from the parking lot. Found between a clothing store and an electronics shop—a location that some might think odd due to its industry being far different from those surrounding it, as well as the nature of said establishment: a sushi restaurant.

At the awe this peculiar observation brings you, you don’t take long to indulge in the calming mundaneness of making up assumptions. Maybe the owner seized the place from a prior failed business, taking advantage of the location by offering something a bit more… alluring for those passing by.

From there, the other thing that intrigued you, although to a minimum since everything pertaining to this specific person was irrelevant to you, was how Naoya managed to find such a place. Considering he was either away most of the time with missions (you doubt he was deployed anywhere near his home, so when would he have time to indulge in the city?) as well as his arrogant behavior and the desire to treat everything nearby as beneath him—if it wasn’t expensive, then it wasn’t of his caliber.

Lavish wasn’t a word that you’d use to describe this place, at least… from an exterior perspective. The ragged posters of past promotions, the somewhat unkempt wooden doors, and the faint yellow tint of time on what you supposed was the menu were certainly not helping its case—you only knew it was open (and in business) due to the flashing “OPEN” sign beside the entrance.

Well, regardless of what led Naoya here soon faded into the background when it came to serving your own curiosity, which sparked once more when you found your way into the establishment, waiting by the entrance for a host to seat the pair in one of the tables available, giving you a brief moment to admire the decorations.

“Please, take a seat wherever you’d like! A waitress will be with you in a minute!” From all the way back, one of the cooks greets, head peeking just behind the bar, his face wearing a wide smile that was all inviting; a sentiment that you unfortunately did not share after quickly remembering who you were accompanied by, thanks to Naoya’s expressive comment of wanting a booth, highlighted as well by the fact that you two were the only customers there.

The two walk towards the booth and slide into it, sitting just across one another.

Whether that was intentional, or perhaps a miscalculation from Naoya’s part, who you were sure hoped you’d sit by his side, neither would know. A mystery to persist when a waitress eventually comes to the table, laying down a pair of menus on the surface and warmly welcoming them once more.

“Alright now—what can I get you to drink?” she asks with a smile.

“Green tea” Naoya is the first to respond, reaching over for a menu “Cold”

“And for you, miss?” The woman’s head swirls in your direction, her kind gesture is another that you unfortunately, do not replicate.

“...Just water with no ice, please” you murmur and with a quick nod, the woman leaves.

Your eyes follow her for a few seconds after her departure, trailing her up to the moment she arrives with the cook, seemingly sharing with him your table’s order as she grabs a few glasses from nearby.

You eventually return to the table, but unlike Naoya, you have no interest of skimming through the menu, even when you were borderline starving—you didn’t even get a chance to eat dinner the night before due to the strict fasting requirements to perform an accurate blood test—so it had been almost 12 hours since your last meal.

Yet, even with this strenuous condition, you refuse to indulge in your necessities, for you wanted to avoid anything that came from him, and subsequently, do something that could be interpreted as (greater) acceptance.

Either way, you should’ve known at this point that Naoya has an unnatural talent for figuring out what your mind is being troubled with, evident by the way he begins to fill the silence between the two with senseless chatter.

“I heard the nigiri here is particularly good.” Naoya suggests as he lowers the menu to both look at you as well as point at the many pictures of the dishes offered there—the nigiri in question. You don’t respond nor look up, eyes now fixed on your lap. After noticing this, and just like before, he purses his lips. He’s undoubtedly disappointed, yet he continues on “We can try different dishes, so if there’s something you want to—”

“I’m not hungry.” you reiterate, only lifting your gaze when the waitress comes back with a pair of cups—one filled with crystal clear water, and the other a slightly green tinted beverage. Your drinks.

“Here’s your drink” She says as she sets down Naoya’s glass first, and then yours. Her hand then reaches into her pocket and pulls out two white straws. “And some straws. Now, would you like to start with some appetizers?”

“What do you want?” Naoya hastily redirects the question onto you, a smart move on his part for he rightfully assumed you didn’t want to interact with him—maybe the waitress will offer a better outcome.

But you’d also prove to be one step ahead by shooting the question back to him.

“Whatever you want” you say, and those words lead to, yet again, provide the innocent outsiders a glimpse of the dark and heavy atmosphere that has been haunting the couple since their departure from the estate—the first sign of this coming into effect would be the subtle way in which the waitress swallows and holds her breath, darting glances between the two as she anxiously wait for any of them to either snap out of their awkward trance and order something, or dismiss her.

Since it looks like the latter isn’t going to happen anytime soon, the woman decides it was her role to intervene “I’ll give you more time” she says, giving a curt nod and beginning her way back to the kitchen. But before she’s able to do as much as take another step, Naoya speaks up.

“We’ll get an order of gyoza’s” he says, gesturing at the item on the menu “and edamame too”

“Of course, I’ll be right back with them” The woman doesn’t even bother to ask if they want something more as she gives him another bow and finally heads back to the kitchen.

“You have to eat something” Naoya says as soon as he deems the woman out of earshot—and even if she were, this was too important to ignore— leaning a bit forward to take a better look at your face, as well as show the seriousness of his words. “At least something”

You don’t respond, and the way your eyes remain low, even with his approach, sparks another conversation somewhere else…

“Just look at her face” Your waitress, who was named Akari as written in her tag, whispers to the only cook present in the kitchen “She hasn’t even looked at the menu, less at him!”

“Think they had a fight before arriving here?” The cook wonders as he goes over to the refrigerator, takes out a small package of edamame and pours it into a small black bowl.

“Definitely” Akari agrees “It’s evident she doesn’t want to be there. Whatever it was, I’m pretty sure it was his doing”

“Why are we even assuming he’s the reason behind her attitude? Besides, that’s a pretty harsh accusation, we don’t even know what kind of relationship they have ” “They both have rings on their ring finger, Hayate!!” She dramatically gestures at her ring finger “They’re married! Which I don’t know if it makes it better or worse”

“It makes it irrelevant for us” he sighs “Unless… well, they get into an argument here—if that happens, would it be right to call the cops?”

“I… wouldn’t go to that extreme” she muses, crossing her arms “I’d just ask you to kick them out though”

“Of course you would” He sighs “Well, let’s hope it doesn’t get that extreme—still, it’s undeniably you’re getting the short end of the stick here”

“Huh? Why’s that?”

“You get to serve them, I can’t even imagine how tedious it would be to work with customers like that—Thank god I’m just the cook”

“I mean, I’d be pissed too if I was brought to a sushi place so early in the morning to “make up” for whatever it is that happened—like, who comes to eat sushi so early in the morning?”

“Our boss, apparently”

The two share a chuckle, and the noise manages to catch your attention.

You lift your gaze towards them, and the sight that receives you is one that you can’t emotionally describe quite well. You’re torn in between being bothered by it, for you wanted the waitress to come back to overall rush your stay here, or feel envious, because you wished to partake in that kind of happiness as well—although that sentiment falters for a moment once you realize they were talking about you, judging by the way they went quiet as soon as you gaze crossed theirs.

Well, this just served to confirm what you already suspected, especially after the way you lashed out a few moments ago in the crosswalk—Naoya’s and your tumultuous relationship was becoming more and more apparent to everyone around, and you couldn’t feel anything but ashamed by it.

«It’ll be over soon, and then, it won’t matter» you attempt to console yourself «It’s just a matter of him eating, just… ignoring him, and before I know it I’ll be back with my staff and Naoaki»

Your eyes dart back to him, and his face seems to brighten up when he notices this.

“Y/N” The way he enunciates your name always made you feel… disgusted, if not resentful. You wished to condemn him for having the audacity to call you by your given name, but you instead, opt to save your energy for your survival. “I hope you at least try something, you’ve gone hours without eating, you must be starv—”

“I ate something before I left” you interject with a… well, half a life. Mariya did give you something small before leaving, so as to not leave your stomach completely empty, saying that it wouldn’t affect your results as much as many liked warn—it was still far from a meal… but you were appreciative of it nonetheless “I’m still full”

“What?” Naoya blinks “You ate something before the tests? You weren’t supposed to do that, I specifically ordered your staff to let you know! That means your results were probably incorrect!”

“Would it make any difference?” you murmur. You don’t know what it was, probably the way Naoya’s freaked out response irked you, but something inside you pushes you to respond—and by the way you continued on, no one would believe you were trying to remain undetected. “My cholesterol or sugar levels weren’t precisely the things the doctor intended to check”

Naoya tenses his jaw, keeping quiet. He’s not particularly fond of your snappy attitude, less when he had to admit that you were right.

“Still, you have to be careful, it’s for your own good”

“Mine? Or your clan’s?”

Naoya’s chest burns at the truth backfiring at his face once more—if there was one thing that he hated the most, it’s how much his clan intervened in his marriage with you.

But it was just one of the many agreements he had to obey if he was to become their leader and use their assets.

“Even if it was” he adds, replacing the harshness of your words with what he thinks is his truth, and perhaps… show you another perspective. “That’s not entirely true. You are my wife, and I care for you. I have to, as your husband”

“...you don’t have to” you refuted “it’s just as easy as letting me go”

“And for what would I do that?!” he unexpectedly rages, slamming his hands against the table. The items on the surface rattle, and both the waitress, the cook, and you are instinctively shaken to stare at him.

It’s not a mystery for him to understand why he had reacted in such a way—there were many insecurities flashing across his mind ever since he was demoted from all he held in life. You were the only thing that still remained, but even then, you were starting to slip through his fingers

Thus, for you to openly confess you want to leave angers him. However, this emotion fades into the background upon seeing you tremblingly drawing further and further into yourself, a sight that slowly cools the flames of his errors, leaving nothing but the burden of the following consequences if he doesn't mend his mistakes.

Naoya retracts his hands back under the table, clearing his throat by taking a sip of his drink before moving on. “It’s not easy”

You don’t respond, gaze on your lap.

“There’s too many… things to consider” he adds, as if trying to rekindle some understanding from you—but didn’t he just startle you a few seconds ago? And besides, whose fault was that?

There isn’t much room for conversation after that once the appetizers were finally delivered to your table.

Well, it’s not like there was much to discuss anyways; not when his intentions were already clear: he was just trying to save whatever he thought was left for him to control—no genuine intentions of getting along with you or even accepting his perpetrating role in your misfortune and giving you a solution… he just wants to save his face.

“Let’s not talk about that anymore. Eat” Naoya says, his attempt of moving forward from this tense situation as he grabs a pair of chopsticks the waitress brought along and picks up a gyoza for him “Try one”

“No, thank you�� you shake your head. Your throat had gone dry after this interaction, but as appetizing as the glass of water seemed, you couldn’t dare to reach for it.

“Y/N. I’m not going to let you starve, I know you’re lying about eating something before coming” He says, and his tone is… somewhat condescending to you, as if he were treating you like a child.

Being in the mere presence of your husband was conflicting in all possible levels—you stood there, unable to fix your emotions to either be afraid of him, or angered.

“Remember that you have to eat more” he emphasizes. “I personally wouldn’t let this pass, since you won’t get these at the estate. Believe me, I tried”

Add incredulous to the list.

“I thank you for your generosity, Naoya-sama, but really, I’m not hungry”

In the usage of those honorifics, Naoya is… bewildered.

Even when the general purpose of them was to refer to said person with the highest regard, coming from you, at this particular moment, they felt… wrong, misplaced. As if intended to mock his unfortunate position, or emotionally distance yourself from him.

No. That couldn’t be it, at least for the first. He’s seen you be crass, but it was never with these topics—or so he assumes since you get along with those he considered inferior.

So instead, he simply concludes what his heart already knows to be true: you did this because you don’t want to relate to him… and for the nth time that day, he wonders how could this relate to his brother.

And in a similar nature as yours, he too has enough of holding back the distaste of a crowded marriage, and he isn’t able to stop himself from allowing his thoughts to finally escape his lips.

“Do you speak to Naoaki like that?” He asked. “Treat him like you treat me?”

“Excuse me?” you breathe, caught off guard by his sudden question, as well as the terror that his mentioning might implicate. Fearing such a thing, you remain speechless, hoping to avoid breaking the thin ice he’d seemed to plunge you into any further.

“I asked if you speak to my brother like that” he reiterates and you feel your tortured heart sink deeper into your stomach. His words, far from presenting a genuine interest, seem to be the beginning of a scolding which could only trail to something worse. With Naoya you can never be too sure, so wishing to control any damage from spreading any further , you respond.

“I speak to everyone in your house respectfully” is what you carefully say, hoping that this statement would be enough of an answer to sway the topic out of his mind, but with the rumors that had been circulating the two you doubt it’ll be the end of it. You just have to look back at how he threatened you the night you denied him to expect the worst.

The conversation eerily seems to end when he refocuses his attention back on eating, and subsequently, ordering more dishes. He stops trying to convince you to try anything out.

The rest of the time goes awfully slow for the two, apparently worse for Naoya who concludes that all of his efforts in this stage of Ranta’s plan had been for nothing. If anything, it seems he just pushed you further away from him.

Doubling down on that statement when he notices the way the waitress had begun to approach them, a slight edge of caution in her words, a hesitancy apparent by the way her hands trembled when serving him, all thanks to the pulsating fear of being in receiving end of another one of Naoya’s belittlement.

Realizing this endeavor was to end in nothing short of failure, your husband decides to call for the check and leave.

As he’s taking out his wallet, his mind inadvertently takes him to the moment Ranta was explaining to him how to proceed after leaving the doctor’s office.

“—Everyone likes a good place to eat. Remember that one sushi restaurant we went to during summer? You can take her there! The food is good, it’s close, and is open early so… be sure to order the favorites, I’m sure she’ll be tempted to try them—who doesn’t like sushi after all?”

«Well, even if she likes them, it didn’t work» Is what Naoya says to himself as he slides the same card he’s been using to pay all of his expenses into the terminal (thankfully it hasn’t been canceled, although he presumes it’ll only be the next course of action if he dares do something that further angers his family) before quickly typing his PIN into it.

Once the machine signals its approval, he removes the card from the slot and stashes it back into his wallet.

The couple leaves the restaurant empty handed. He won’t say he didn’t think of buying something for you to eat on later, but he rightfully assumes you’re not going to eat it anyways, so why waste money?

Believing the day to be done, you begin to head back to the parking lot. You really couldn’t get this done any faster, go back to the estate, and just… stay away from everything that might remind you of Naoya.

It was a shame that you had to go through those emotional turmoil with him, but that was now over, and now, your interest was solely on the reactions you’ll have from your staff after you tell them what happened…

A sight that will be postponed once more upon hearing Naoya call you, as well as the irritation sensation of his presence obnoxiously close to you.

This change of events sends a jolt of concern and irritation through your body as you stop on your track, disdainfully wondering what he would possibly want to bother you with now.

“Y/N” he says, taking steps towards you, which you reinstate by taking one away from him. Your response falters him for the moment, but not enough to stop his words, which only show his determination to complete whatever plan he had assembled with Ranta.

If he was to lose, he’d rather lose trying.

“I was thinking we could go on a walk, see the city”

“It’s too early” you immediately respond “Most of the stores aren’t even open”

“Some are” he corrects “I don’t know how the activity is in your area, but this city is quite lively during early hours of the day so there’s a lot of businesses working already”

«That wouldn’t be the first thing you don’t know about me» you think «Do you even know who you married?»

“I’m tired” you excuse “It’s been a long morning for me”

“It’s been for me too” he says, and you hold back the overwhelming urge to snap at him. Why must it always be a competition between the two?

But having done so twice, and seen a glimpse of his anger moments ago, you accept the fact that whatever it was that Naoya already set his mind to was to be considered the law, thus, you reluctantly agree once more to his request, turning around and gesturing him to guide the way, as well as letting him know you are not taking any pleasure in accompanying him by the stern look in your face.

“I just want a distraction” he says, another one of his attempts to strike a conversation with you. “Away from the estate, from the elders, don’t you want that too?”

“No” you respond curtly. Contrary to him… “I have too much work to do I can’t simply ignore”

When he was once unsure of your capability to mock someone's social ranking, he’s now confident that your words were nothing more than a direct jab at his unfortunate disposition.

He’s used to being the punching bag of his family when committing mistakes, shaming them, but different to training, this is something he’s never grown immune to—certainly less when it comes from someone… different.

But just as he’s done in the past, Naoya will bear through it. He’ll push through the agony your indifference brings to him, as if it were the pain of his father’s vigorous training, and hopefully reap the benefits of a job well done.

The two begin to walk, or more likely dragged, towards the avenue you quickly identified to be the main street of the city, but there was rarely any sightseeing on your part.

As before, your eyes are glued onto the pavement, distracting yourself by indulging in the childish game of not stepping over the lines, or looking up to the people before you so as to not bump into them.

Not getting to see this part of Kyoto is not something you think will bring you regret in the future, since you’d always wanted to explore the country with your family. Wasting this opportunity only meant that you were saving it for the right moment.

And even then, if you don’t ever get to see this part with them, it’s ok. Because after you're gone from the estate, you’ll never, ever come back.

These were to be the reasons as to why you further ignored Naoya and his unrequited commentary about the surrounding stores—rambles of what he thinks of them, as well as questioning if there was one you wanted to check one out… as if he were a tour guide of sorts.

Naoya had always been talkative, that much you could remember, but you never thought of him to be engaging with you, always placing all of the attention on him.

It must’ve been nothing more than attempting to fix the poor outlook others were starting to have about the two. To appear well-grounded, healthy in their eyes or perhaps, it’s his mind trying to create this world where he’s not a piece of shit and he actually gets along with you—the waitress’s startled look must’ve pushed him to that.

It must be nice to only have to worry about what others are thinking of you, you conclude, and you wish you could be that delusional—maybe his actions wouldn’t hurt you so much.

“No, baby, you mustn't bother them” Suddenly, a low yet fretting voice of a woman interrupts your thoughts. “They’re busy”

“But mama…” a smaller voice, presumably the child of the woman, responds “I want to!”

“Sweetie, we’re going to be late…”

Your gaze follows the direction of this conversation, and soon after, is welcomed with the sight of said woman and young girl.

The two seemed to be completely engulfed in their conversation, until by some reason, as if sensing your eyes, the young mother lifts her gaze towards you, staring at you for a few seconds before the child mimics her mother’s actions, wasting no second to seize this opportunity as her cue to rush into your direction, stopping only when she was less than two feet away from you.

Now you and Naoya are staring at her, dumbfounded, with you wondering if you’re going to have to step in to prevent the daughter from running further away from the mother, while Naoya alarmingly attempts to seek the reason behind their approach, did you know them? If so, then he had to act accordingly.

But you did not. Yet, that wasn’t enough to sway the little girl away from you, not even after receiving the astonished stares of two strangers was enough to intimidate her away from following her desires, mustering all the courage she could find—looking up to you with big round shiny brown eyes, blushing chubby cheeks, and a pout—to say what she wants to say.

“You’re very pretty, nee-san” the little girl eventually chips “I like the butterflies on your hair!”

And her words, while it took a while for you to process them, are the only ones that manage to bring out a smile from you that day, a response that doesn’t escape Naoya’s, nor the mother’s, sight, while they continue to watch the unfolding interaction.

“Oh, thank you” you say, a soft smile on your lips “You’re very sweet”

“Ah, I’m so sorry!” the mother breathes once she catches up to her daughter's side, taking the young child’s hand and apologetically bowing before the couple. “I told her to not bother you, you seemed in a hurry—”

“That’s not necessary! It’s ok” you chuckle, reassuringly dismissing her regret. The woman already looked as if she were having a rough time herself, probably due to her free-spirited daughter, the least you could do is ease her burdens. “Your daughter was just being nice”

“Mama… I want butterflies just like hers….” the girl whines, now facing her mother while slightly tugging at her arm as to underline her necessity.

The woman presses her lips together, considering whether to indulge her daughter or just leave. But just like any mother, she succumbs to the view of her child’s adorable puppy eyes.

“If you don’t mind me asking, where did you get those clips?” The woman asks. Even when she was deeply ashamed for the seeming imprudence of her daughter, she was still capable of sharing her same sentiment and admit that you were beyond beautifully dressed. As well as the peculiar young man that seemed to accompany you—dressed in a minimal, tailored head to toe black outfit. With this, she could only assume the two came from a rich background.

It’s no wonder why the mother didn’t want to interact with them in the first place , she was probably scared that the two were to be nothing more than the stereotypical snobs to her daughter!

Thankfully, your kindness showed that her preconceived notions were nothing but that, which became another reason to allow her daughter’s question.

“I’m sorry to say that I don’t know, since they were a wedding gift”

“Oh” The woman blinks, a deep shade of regret burning her cheeks at the reveal, worsening when catching sight of the rings on yours and Naoya’s hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were with your husband! Had I known I would’ve done a better job at controlling my daughter!”

“It’s fine, she’s just a kid” you shake your head, chuckling. “And her words were nothing but uplifting, really. Don’t worry about it”

“You’re very kind…” The woman sighs “Well, I won’t keep you two anymore, thank you and have a nice evening”

And with that, the mother and her child give you and your husband a quick bow before continuing on with their path, with the young girl asking her what a wedding gift was and wondering if she would be able to get one, presumably thinking that was the only way to get your same hair clips. The mother tells her that maybe when you’re older she’ll get one, already thinking if she could do a quick visit to a nearby accessory store, or maybe those 100 yen shops to get her something similar and quiet the first wave of many questions she knows she’ll be getting in a bit.

As their voices begin to fade into the distance, you begin to return to reality. The delightful interaction with the young girl and her glistening eyes of admiration slowly disappear from your mind, returning to the shackling sense of dread brought upon by your companion.

In a way, you were thankful for the little girl’s intervention, even if it were for just a moment, it brought you a glimpse of genuine happiness you were sure to not have for the rest of the day, serving you a shot of determination to make it through this difficult moment.

You eventually wonder if he, contrary to you, was annoyed at the young girl. The only example of him interacting with other kids were his cousins, and he never seemed to like them (nor speak to them), aside from thinking of them as less—and you’re not even going to start about how little he’s done to defend their right to their own life.

So it was safe to assume he was less than thrilled by this interruption.

«Well, at least he had the decency to remain quiet before them» you say as you retake your aimless path back on the streets of the city «but probably for nothing more than appearances»

You weren’t that off when it came to assuming Naoya’s reaction, however, he wasn’t affected by their imprudence, but rather, from being in awe at your kindness which he thought unavailable for the moment, to the analysis of the compliments given by the family.

He was never one to entertain the words of others that did not relate to him in any shape or form, thinking that their points of view were rather… unprepared, to not say ignorant, and out of touch.

But for this occasion, he had to agree with their words, for it was the same sentiment he shared upon seeing you at the estate before leaving. He always considered you beautiful, and the clothes his family had given you only highlighted this fact.

He doesn’t think there’s anyone that would look better in such lavish garments, and this train of thought leads him to remembrance of the last attire you wore when out.

Naoya never said it out loud, but he particularly liked how you looked in that yukata. There was something about the contrast between yellow and blue, and your adorable face, that made it impossible for him to stray his eyes from you.

It pains him now to remember how he couldn’t enjoy the view any longer, cut unwillingly short due to a woman he couldn’t even remember what was her name, as well as his father’s—

Naoya frowns. He doesn’t want that to happen. Not again.

He wants to start anew, compensate for that day and all that could’ve been.

After all, you’re his wife and he’s your husband. And he wants you to know that.

“Y/N” he says, hoping to find some semblance of your kindness still lingering behind, at least enough for you to respond. But even if you didn’t, the nostalgia forces Naoya to continue on “I… I also think you look pretty today”

Your gaze is focused into nothingness, unwilling to look up to him as the two continue walking.

“And you did back then, too. The last time we went out” your husband quietly adds “Even if I didn’t say it back then, I mean it now”

Suddenly, you halt. And your husband who had grown accustomed to your silent treatment unwittingly flinches at the abruptness of your motion, hastily focusing a worried glance on you, whose head slowly began to turn to see him.

He wasn’t sure of what to expect from his genuine approach, outside of his own experiences: a smile, a blush, or even the coy act of humbly denying his words…

But anger, and the appalling way it took a hold of your features, was not one of them.

Your now frowning eyes, tense jaw, and the overall afflicted look on your face seemed to be asking him if his words were meant to be taken seriously—and he wishes to say that they were, but this desire crashes with another thought he can’t seem pinpoint (he realizes he’s been stumbling into that dilemma far more often than he would like) outside of confusion, leading him to blindly charge into this situation, oblivious to the context his “compliment” was perceived with.

“Did I say something wrong…?”

You no longer hold the urge to scoff before looking away.

His self unawareness was already on immeasurable lengths, and yet, it just kept getting bigger by the day! How is it possible that someone so repetitive still continues to baffle you?

Even when you thought it couldn’t be any worse than what it was, he’s like a never ending matryoshka—more just seems to come out of him!

How… How could he comment such a thing about how you looked on the day you were sentenced to death?!

It’s now clear to you that the perception of that day was vastly different for the two— while that was the moment your life was officially ruined, to him, it was just another weekday.

Just thinking about that awful day, no matter how many times you did, always reopened the wound in your heart.

From the faint memory of the doctor, the medicine you were forced to take, to that damned yellow yukata… it was nothing but agony.

You even recalled a time you couldn’t even glance at your closet because you knew that garment was stored there, tainted with the vicious way your husband had dragged you across the estate, followed by your pleads, forced on your knees, for mercy towards your innocent staff… ending with you rushing back to your bedroom after Naobito sentenced you to death—careless if it was ripped, dirtied, or dampened even more with your tears as you locked yourself away from the world.

Eventually, you presume, after noticing such behavior, Mariya decided to act, and one day that infamous yukata was nowhere to be found.

There's no leads as to what happened to it, if it’s stored somewhere else, in a room your staff believes you’ll never stumble into, perhaps already reintroduced into the market after Hitomi fixed it, or even… thrown away.

Well, wherever it was, you were glad it was gone.

It might not mean much, but it gives you a cathartic peace of mind to not see it in your room anymore. Managing to take, even if just a little, the pain of that horrible day.

If only it was possible to do the same with your wedding ring…

Circling back to his words, it comes to no surprise to you that Naoya would think so highly of that garment. After all, wasn’t that the day that you were crudely reminded of was expected of you?

It was like a… commemoration of such advancement.

Yeah, that had to be it—Everything provided by them was nothing more than a collection of warnings and trophies… to remind you of who were the new owners of your life and their capabilities.

Unaware of the turmoil in your mind, Naoya continues to see you in astonishment, processing the sight that is slowly pushing him to retaliate, seeking to understand why you’d been so dismissive with all of his thoughtful words, but Ranta’s memory stops him yet again.

“She’s not going to be very perceptive at your attempts, but keep trying” He warned “You have to show her that you’re better than your brother!”

It's ironic to say that his best friend knew much more of you and your feelings than your own husband… which makes Naoya wonder just how much actually went down when he was away, as well as to why Ranta decided to leave those alleged details out.

But even with these observations Naoya was yet to find the reason behind your animosity—struggling to understand that Naoaki was only a symptom, not the sickness—or a way to slow down the rift growing between the two.

He's tempted to declaring this mission as an indisputable failure… that is, just by the corner of his eye, he manages to see you momentarily lift your gaze from the concrete floor and onto a nearby small rack filled to the brim of products, analyzing it for a few seconds before trailing it down the store from which it supposedly originated: a record shop.

With its windows plastered with posters, from either the latest releases, merch announcements, and best sellers, these were all things that were intended to attract any passerby into walking in, but had remained undetected to Naoya’s mind.

Yet, it allured you, enough to snap you out of your tunnel vision of determined apathy towards him—and it’s with this new advancement that Naoya regains hope, as well as curiosity to find out what managed to catch your attention in the first place, which he pushes by heading towards the store.

He naturally expects you to do the same, even with your slight rejection, but unfortunately, it does not happen, which prompts him to stop and look back at you.

Naoya might not have the best of social skills, but he was still able to understand there was something else bothering you, aside from his words, that prevented you from following him, judging by the hesitant look on your face.

If your previous reaction wasn’t intriguing enough, this for sure was.

“I wanted to check something” is what he says as soon as his eyes land on yours, hoping to nudge you into the right direction. "It's going to be quick"

And after a few seconds of your consideration, that seems to do the trick. Lightly biting your lip, you push down the eerie sensation his sudden interest granted you, and you finally walk just right behind Naoya and into the establishment.

The first thing that catches their attention upon entering is the amount of album covers, from all kinds of artists and groups, decorating every inch on the walls. If the windows were not enough to show what they were offering, then this would.

Another subject of interest was the unforeseen size of the store.

If they hadn’t stepped inside, they would’ve never guessed the business continued on to the sides, as if taking the space of two establishments, with a set of stairs that hinted at a second floor.

From there, the shelves found across the floor, filled with cd’s and vinyl’s alphabetically organized for the customers to look through at their discretion—just as the one that caught your interest outside.

The couple thought to be alone, that is until at the far end of the room, to the left and just besides the stairs, a cash register was to be found, attended by a young man —presumably a part-time student, assumed by the fact that he looked not that older than you— made his presence known by dejectedly welcoming the couple into the store—a greeting that by some reason, went unanswered from both.

The silence engulfing the two is… suffocating—has been since they left the estate. However, contrary to the waitress, the young worker doesn’t seem to mind nor care as long as they don’t bother him more than necessary. It’s now evident that he doesn’t particularly strive to work there out of the goodness of his heart.

“Is there something you were looking for in particular?” The employee asks, stepping closer to the two—he might be uninterested, but there are still cameras to ensure he’s working.

“No” Naoya responds firmly. “We’re just looking”

“Well, if there’s something you need help with, don’t hesitate to reach out to me” he says before returning to his previous post immediately after.

From there, nothing seems to happen.

You don’t move, you don’t reach over to look at the albums, and you certainly do not talk. It’s almost as if this was his idea to begin with, and not the other way around.

Naoya is in dire need of a change from the constant demeanor you’re harboring towards him. There must be a reason why this store caught your attention, far from the other flashy stores he thought you’d be interested in.

And as the analytical man he is, a solution ultimately crosses his mind.

Perhaps (definitely) you’re not doing much simply because he’s present. Maybe, if he were to step away, you’ll be prompted to act on your own, and then, the reason behind your interest will unveil itself.

And that’s exactly what he ends up doing.

“I’ll go check upstairs, stay here” he casts as bait, and without time to waste, he hastily heads towards the stairs and onto the second floor.

But of course, he doesn’t intend to stay there. If there was a way for him to see what you were doing from his position perhaps he would’ve, but that isn’t the case; so after waiting out a few seconds to convincingly make you believe he was gone, Naoya tip-toes back down the stairs, stopping midway when he gets a clear glimpse of you, and observe if you’ve done anything new.

Which… you haven’t, not until you come to terms with an internal debate, considering whether or not to rummage through the discs, choosing the latter when you walk towards the other room —Naoya closely following you— and onto the many shelves, specifically those containing vinyl’s, to browse through them.

Your husband is discreet, presence undetectable, all while keeping a close eye on you.

He watches the nimble work of your hands riffle through the albums, separating them just enough to see the cover and decide whether you want to take it out to get a better look, or move onto the next one—he doesn’t distinguish a particular order on your decisions when you finally take one out, seemingly doing so by the eye-catchiness of the cover, although another mystery steps in, one that seeks to find out why you’d settled for vinyls instead of cd’s, since most were out of fashion and were only around for collectors to grab.

Was this a hobby? If so, he understands having them. He had some himself, but he can’t recall you ever talking about music in particular.

Would this be something you were previously starting to explore? Try out something new, contrasting from what’s usually found in the mundane home of the Zen’in?

Naoya certainly doesn’t think you’re finding interest in the boring books from his library, even when Ranta informed him you were there once, or even his father’s old records, so he presumes that must be it.

Well, if everything goes as planned, he’s confident he can share a bit of his own collection with you. Naoya has a rather impressive one that he harbored through many years, it’s definitely bound to—

“Um, is… uh, is everything ok?” The same employee from before, who had limited himself to simply observing the couple he already thought weird as soon as they set foot in the store, approaches, swiftly cutting through his thoughts.

As stated before, the young man didn’t ask that question out of the goodness of his customer service heart, he only did so because he was getting a bit freaked out by the way Naoya was intently staring at the young woman whom he thought had come along with him.

His behavior led him to believe otherwise, thus prompting him to step in.

But Naoya, who didn’t see how he was being perceived (not now, not ever) was all but annoyed by this distraction, evident by the way his head darts to glance at him, angered, setting him to be the unwilling victim of all the frustrations he’s been holding in.

“What?!” he breathes “Can’t you see I’m busy??”

“Well—I—” the man flinches. “I was just…”

“Asking? I see” Naoya gives him a mocking smile “Clearly, I’m looking at my wife?”

“Wife?” The employee blinks, perplexed. First of all, what kind of weirdo stares at their wife like that? And secondly, now that he knows that, he feels sorry for you.

In the end, he’s glad he doesn’t know them. He can only imagine how embarrassing it must be to hang out with them, or for you in that case, to be constantly caught in the middle of your husband’s buffoonery…

Unless you were the same, of course, which would make sense because you were purportedly married to him.

Well, that isn't his problem to ruminate on, and once the man understands that this is beyond his grasp, asides from not finding any real harm (if Naoya were saying the truth), decides to step away and go back to the register and finish inputting into the system whatever new product they got that day overnight.

Your husband is quick to jump back to his previous behavior, critically so, for he was worried this unforeseen interaction had alerted you of his whereabouts—dissipating the tension out of his shoulders with a sigh upon realizing you hadn’t.

However, you had stopped skimming through the albums, because your attention was now solely set on one of them, eyes fixed at the cover before turning it around and reading through the song list.

The way you stare at it with the highest of attention, before moving into another equally intriguing album per your discernment ignites a bigger flame of curiosity inside Naoya—and now, he genuinely wants to know the fascination behind your particular selection, as well as from the one album you can’t seem to keep your eyes from.

Determining you’d lowered your guard, he takes the following step by approaching you, all while silently pleading this will finally be the moment you’ll open up to him.

“Do you like that artist?” He asks, and caught off guard by his sudden return, you instinctively flinch and slam the album back into its place, a noise that catches the attention of the poor worker who can’t seem to catch a break and glance at two, wondering whether something had fallen off the walls—only to be sharply dismissed by Naoya.

You quickly return your hands to the side, as if trying to hide the fact that you were invested in your surroundings, letting your guard down for a second, when it was something you could not afford to do— you’re not safe yet.

Still, even when your conscience is telling you to do otherwise, your wistful gaze can’t sway away from the album you’ve just discarded. A sight enough to motivate your husband into ignoring your stinging reaction and pursuing the significance you’ve placed on it.

“I want to know” he reaffirms, now eyeing the same spot as you do “It looked… interesting”

You’re having your own doubts at this precise moment. More so because you don’t want to partake in conversation with a person that never did, and never will, cared for you, less of something so important to you.

But just as it happened to him, there’s something inside you that prompts you to do so. Urges you to indulge in the emotional significance that these particular albums bring you… perhaps due to the absence of those that this reminded you of, wanting nothing more than to bask in it and forget all that torments you.

So, you do. Against your better judgment, to regret in the future —that’s something that you’ll have to deal with later— carefully grasping the first album that caught your attention and pulling it out.

“Who are they?” Naoya asks once he gets a better look at the cover since they don’t seem familiar at all.

All that he can make out of it are the words of the album’s title, or what he presumes to be the title anyways, with each word accompanied by a portrait of young women whom he rightfully guesses to be the members of said group. Evidently, all foreign.

“They’re a group called the Spice Girls” you inform. “They’re English, but they were still pretty big back in the day.”

“I can… see that” Naoya raises an eyebrow, now analyzing the members.

He doesn’t think of any of them as particularly attractive, nor does he ever remember hearing about them. Well, he doesn’t listen to much that isn’t anime, or praises for him either way.

“Do you like them?” he continues.

“Not as much as Ren did” you add, and the memory of his fanaticism makes your lips curve upwards, a gesture that you’re quick to subdue as soon as you remembered whom you were with. “He… bought all of their records as soon as they were available. He liked them so much that he actually learned english”

You remember growing up listening to their songs, but that was nothing compared to your brother.

He was such an avid fan, to the point he would obsess over each and every piece of merchandise he could get his hands on. Ren owned all the VHS’ of their concerts, all of the albums, singles, posters and clothing—even the dolls. The only thing left was to attend a concert itself. Either way, he would have it all, which makes one wonder how did he even get the money for all that?

But his admiration didn’t end there. It continued on by affecting his personal life, starting by nicknaming you and Hinata with the same names the press had given them once they became famous.

Hinata was quick to decide, she was to be Sporty due to her fascination with training and whatnot. And she… Well, she didn’t really care. She actually liked the name for a while, until Gojo decided to mock her with it, or change it to what he considered to be a more accurate one: Scary. But even then, she didn’t find it in her heart to ask Gojo to stop calling her that because she knew how much Ren liked the group.

From there, Ren didn’t have to think that hard on who he wanted to be either, and that was to be Ginger, his favorite. He liked her assertive personality (as well as considering her to be the prettiest), which heavily influenced his behavior in his early years, preaching about girl power whenever he could, and even painting a streak of his hair blonde just so he could look like her…

So one could only imagine how inconsolable he was when her departure was announced, uncontrollably sobbing and wailing, spiraling deep into his sadness, to the point where he even refused to go to school.

Your mother managed to stop him from committing such an act, of course, doing her best to comfort him even though she knew she had no power to change what’s already written, still, that didn’t stop her from trying, or him from crying at school for that matter.

And finally, you. Another decision that was equally as easy as your predecessors due to your circumstances.

“Which one were you?” Naoya asks, and you sigh.

“Baby, because I was the youngest”

“And which one’s that?” He raises an eyebrow.

“The blonde one, this one” you say, pointing to the blonde girl posing in front of the “P”

“You don’t look like her.” he comments.

“I never said I did.” you frown.

“Right…” he frowns too “Well, did you at least like that nickname?”

His interest seems to be more of an interrogation rather than a conversation, but too deep into this rabbit hole, you concede.

“No. I always liked Posh better” The one you considered to be the cool one, now pointing to the brunette on the “S” “But it doesn’t matter, it’s was just a nickname”

It felt weird to admit that, out loud at least, since you’ve never done so with your brother before.

Well, it had been so long ago… it really doesn’t matter anymore. Ren had outgrown them either way.

“Well, you can still like it or not.” he says.

«How… ironic» you think. «Since when does my opinion matter to him?»

And with this new information, Naoya is… Well, he won’t say that he’s fascinated by the group. They seemed average at best. You certainly didn’t fit the mold when it came to be compared to them, you being much better of course.

And Ren didn’t have weight in his mind either, although it was kind of funny to hear that the man that was considered to be a monster in the physical sense of the word, used to endlessly obsesses for a girl group. No different from those that do the same over idols nowadays. Naoya ironically states that he could never.

Nonetheless, there was still a sense of sadness entwined with your voice when you spoke of these things, as if there was something deeper, bigger—more influential than you were letting on.

His assumptions grow stronger when he sees you return the album back into its place and reach out for the second album you were observing afterwards, the one you slammed back into place, and your eyes dim.

This one was of an entirely different person, someone he vaguely remembers seeing somewhere— but can’t put his finger on where just yet.

“Did your brother like him too?” He pursues these observations.

“No” you pause, nostalgically looking at the album in your hand; none other than Michael Jackson’s Thriller. “My mother did”

“Oh” Naoya muses, and he notes that this is the first time you mentioned her.

Now that he thinks about it… he doesn’t remember seeing her at the wedding, or even being mentioned. He’s heard rumors of her of course, but never… official statements, nor did he seek to find an answer. Thus, there’s only one safe assumption to make as to her whereabouts.

“I guess you heard a lot of music when growing up, hm?” he says, moving on from the topic.

That, you did.

Music was to be considered… highly influential in your life. The closest example is how you learned to speak what little you know of English thanks to your brother’s fanaticism.

But even then, that would still be miniscule compared to the impact it had on you in the bigger picture—because it also defined your existence.

After all, it's how your parents met.

#series: first it hurts—#naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x your #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader

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kyskaisen · 8 days

Text

reflections; maki x reader

:not evil

:master list

note: I swear my writing gets better </3

Thunder rolled through, filling the air with boom after boom with a storm coming in from the cold front shown on the weather forecast. Rain drops tattered against the window, racing down the glass in a vicious attempt to claim victory over the other droplets.

Naoya sat in a room with the head of the clan, discussing important business and not even drinking the tea that was prepared for him. He refused, he didn't like red tea, he liked green tea with a drop of honey, just like how you used to make it for him whenever he requested on days he felt simple. He rested his chin in his palm, keeping a bored expression on his face as the Head kept running his mouth, words going in one ear and out the other as Naoya was halfheartedly listening.

"By the way, when's that Hatake coming back? I still haven't heard news of that meek little girl being found dead yet."

"I don't know, I haven't thought about communication," Naoya answers bluntly before he spares a glance outside the small window in the room to get a look at the outside. It was certainly more interesting than the meeting between the two men.

The Head frowned, his already wrinkled forehead creasing as his eyebrows knit closer together and his nose crinkled. "Go find them, damnit. And tell them to hurry up."

Naoya sighed, pausing for a moment before getting up from his spot. He shuffled to the door, sliding it open and stepping out of the room. The open hallway showed the greenery outside which was getting rained on, it looked beautiful in his eyes, though he'd never admit it.

He rushed to his room, speeding past any other wandering clan members and servants. Sometimes he would glance at the people coming and going, and he'd see a small glimpse of you every time. It was safe to say he got a little attached, though if anyone pointed it out he would kill them.

Naoya looked around for something black, since it was almost dark out, and he couldn't just waltz onto campus, even when it's in the evening. There's barriers around the school, Gojo, and the principal. Sneaking in almost sounds impossible if there wasn't such a short staff. There's only so much a handful of sorcerers could do for such a large campus.

On said campus, you were busy in the cafeteria with your newfound friends and friend with benefits, celebrating your birthday.

"SHUSH! THEY'RE GONNA HEAR!" Gojo practically screeched to Toge and Panda who were making comments on what you and Maki might be doing while she led you to the cafeteria, blindfolded. You heard his echo through the hallway, and it already gave away what was going on, not that your birthday being marked and circled in red on the calendar in the training room wasn't enough. Everyone else was acting weird, or maybe special, since you weren't really used to all the affection yet. You knew it was your birthday, every year Naoya would make a comment on it then go about his business.

"You're loud enough!" Panda shot back before Gojo was ushering the other boys behind the corner of the cafeteria. Yours and Maki's footsteps echoed through the hallway as she was guiding you by your hand.

"Those idiots probably ruined the whole idea of a surprise party," Maki grumbles, rolling her eyes as the two of you got closer to the cafeteria. You hummed as you shrugged behind her, "I'll just pretend I had no idea."

"That'll be even worse, Gojo's just gonna get more excited," Maki chuckles as you two turn the corner, finally walking in and turning on the lights. She lifted the blindfold from your eyes, revealing a very over-decorated cafeteria with streamers covering all the walls and balloons around almost every table.

"SURPRISE!!"

"Happy birthday, Y/n!!"

You deadpanned your expression at the loud cheering in your ear. A large cake sat on one of the tables with candles on it, and if the candle wish thing did come true, it really would just be you and Maki right now. You walked over to the table, ignoring the others as you sat down, taking a fork and digging in all by yourself.

Everyone else looked at you like you're crazy, watching you eat away at the cake. Eventually you felt everyone's eyes boring holes into your head, so you turned around and found everyone staring.

"What? It's my cake anyways."

"You could at least share with your precious sensei?!"

"As much as I'd like to thank you for the cake, Gojo, it's still my first celebrated birthday, I get to eat the cake however I please," you remarked as you took another fork from the table. "Don't just stand there, Maki."

"WHAT?! How come she gets some?!"

"Because I didn't overreact like you guys did!"

"It's your birthday, of course we're gonna be excited!"

You rolled your eyes as Maki sat down next to you, taking the fork and eating away at your cake. "Damn, this is good," she comments with a smirk, taking another bite. "I got good taste."

"Wait, you picked it out?"

"Yeah, Gojo took me to the bakery and asked me to pick one out, so I went with the one I thought you might like best."

"Considerate," you chuckle, looking beyond the cake and at her with a glint in your eyes. She blushed a bit, grinning back at you as she took yet another bite.

"You're really getting into that cake, huh."

"It's really good. Now I kinda wish it was my birthday."

"Too bad," you grin a bit, shuffling in your spot. Outside the window, across the entire campus for that matter, Naoya had to pay close attention to where his feet went on the dirt. If he'd stepped on even one twig it would alert Gojo of his presence, and frankly he wasn't in the mood to deal with him.

Sneaking through the forest at Jujutsu Tech is not how he imagined spending his evening: careful not to step on a twig or brush against a bush, lightening his footsteps and not breathing so loud. If any one of the those things were to go sideways he risked getting caught, and his senses were at their highest, so he really was not hoping to fail.

When Naoya saw light eventually coming from the main building, which was a long walk away from the cafeteria where you were sitting, a weight left his shoulders and he began to relax a bit. He knew it was around 11 p.m, so he wouldn't have to wait long before the lights went out and he'd have to be on stealth mode again, turning off his channel of cursed energy temporarily just so he won't be noticed sneaking around looking for you.

When the lights did go out, he immediately hopped out from the bush he was hiding in and slowly opened the front door, sneaking in and looking around to see if anyone was still out. He almost bumped into the wall so many times because of how dark it was, but he couldn't exactly turn on a light unless he wanted to get himself caught.

He finally made it to the girls side of the dorms, hastily looking around for yours. People's names were in a plaster on the front of the door so looking for your special last name written in bold. There weren't very many since Jujutsu sorcerers are such a minority, so he didn't have to look for much until he was stuck between two doors. One of them, which had a light coming through the bottom crack of the room behind it, and another one, dark. His whole body warmed up as he ultimately went with the one where he would be least likely to get caught, and went with the latter option.

He carefully slid open the door, narrowing his eyes as he was immediately met with a pitch black. The only exception was the minuscule light coming from across the hall which wasn't even enough to form his own silhouette. He tiptoed into what he made out to be your room when he glanced at the bold name on the plaster, eyes zipping around for any sign of you now that he adjusted to the darkness. Nothing.

He heard voices coming from across the hall, and he quickly but quietly slid your door closed, hiding next to the dresser right next to your doorway as he waited for you to open it up again. When he does hear the door slide open with a crisp sound, he tenses, hearing your footsteps slowly pitter patter against the hardwood floor. His arm carefully reached around the dresser, flipping on the light switch and turning on the light.

You whipped around, almost screaming when you saw him standing there before he rushed over and pressed his hand against your mouth.

He took his hood off from his head and took off his mask, revealing hid all too familiar smug looking face that now looked a bit annoyed. He held up his finger to his mouth as he twitched his head back to suggest to whoever was across the hall.

"What're you doing here?!" you whisper yelled once he removed his hand, frowning as you scolded him. He rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically, looking around the messy room. "Naobito sent me, said he's getting impatient."

"That's just too damn bad, isn't it?" you remarked quietly, stepping away from Naoya and shutting your bathroom door. He pauses for a moment before lifting a brow, "What the hell does that mean?"

"You really think I give a shit if he's impatient? What's gonna happen again if I don't kill Maki? Execution? How's he gonna do that? I'm all the way up here and he's stuck being Head of the clan."

"You're hesitating?" he snarls, stepping closer with a frown. You scrunch up your face and lightly push him back a bit, "If I am?"

Naoya clicked his tongue as he looked around the room- at anything other than you. He tapped his foot angrily against the floor, causing a light clacking from the bottom of his shoe. "You know you're supposed to kill her and be done with it, right?"

"What happens if you find out I ditched it? What, you gonna snitch on me to Naobito about it?"

"I should!" He whispered, getting closer as his scowl worsened. His eyebrows were fiercely knit together and his nose was scrunched up and rippled, and his eyes were narrowed. You stared right back at him with a daring face, your own eyes narrowed as you pursed your lips.

"I should snitch to him," he echoed, huffing before scratching the back of his neck. You lift an eyebrow at him, emphasizing for him to continue.

"But I'm not going to." he sighed, stepping back a bit. Your lifted brow raised even higher at his behavior, because this is not how Naoya would normally act. The smug, annoying son of a bitch is the one who's going lie straight to the Head's face just to make sure nothing happens to you because that's just how much he really cares, not that he would do it for just anyone else. Naoya Zenin, the unlovable asshole, lying to protect you, his longtime servant. Now that's a surprise if you've ever seen one.

What the hell was he even doing? You and him both know he could get in trouble for it if the Head ever found out about the lying, yet Naoya's still here, telling you he won't snitch.

"Why?" you ask curtly, frowning as you bite the inside of your cheek. He looks at you with hooded eyes and a stern expression, his usually fixed hair now matted, casting a small shadow on his face. "You know why."

"No, I don't know why. Just tell me, stop making it so hard," you rush, folding your arms and tapping your foot impatiently against the ground. He sees how haste you're getting, by the sharp glint in your eye and your squared shoulders. He sighs again out of annoyance, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment.

"Because I don't want to mess up your birthday," he lied after removing his hand from his nose. You gave him a look of disbelief, incredulity, as you scoffed. "You expect me to believe that? Since when did you care about my birthday?"

"I'm not evil," he glares at you, waiting for a moment for a response before he steps towards the door, placing a hand on it for a moment. You don't even spare him a quarter turn, and he can tell, he can't feel your hateful gaze boring holes into his skull. He huffs, his breath slightly hitching as he slowly slides open the door, being careful of the light that still seeps under the crack across the hall. He closes the door behind him, tiptoeing back down the hallway.

You stand there for a moment, in the middle of your own room, feeling out of place for what seemed to be for the rest of this perpetual hour. It hadn't even turned midnight, it was still your sweet sixteen and Naoya had to come and ruin it. You were used to things along the lines of that, like someone ruining your day of peace.

You shake your head, rolling your eyes as you do before deciding you didn't need to be in here, not after Naoya. So you decided to go across the hall, back to Maki's room where you'd just previously been.

You knock on her door gently, waiting for another moment before the door slides open. "Back already? I would've thought you're already getting tired of me."

"No," you reply bluntly, stepping past her and shuffling around her messy room, eventually plopping down on Maki's bed. Her gaze averted from the door to you, sliding it closed and strolling back over to you with a blank face. "So...whatcha doin' back here?"

"I didn't wanna be alone tonight," you confess, lying flat on your back, staring at the ceiling with your own hands intertwined on your chest. Your eyebrows knit, making a crease on your nose as you sit in silence. Maki's bed dips to your right as she got in next to you, lying flat on her back as well.

The two of you sat in silence, simply staring at the ceiling fan as it went round and round at a speed your eyes couldn't even keep up with. You thought it would make you dizzy enough to make you fall asleep, but it didn't work. Maki's presence lingers right next to you, just inches away from you, filling your senses to the brim.

"So you didn't wanna be alone, huh?" she repeats, eventually turning her head to face you after what seemed like 5 minutes of uncomfortable silence. You nod wordlessly, feeling your heart pound in your chest as you let out a deep exhale. Maki lifted a concerned brow as her eyes read your clearly stressed expression. "What's got you worked up?"

"I'm not worked up," you glance at her with rough eyes, catching a glimpse of Naoya right outside the window as he was starting to sneak off campus. Your breath almost gets stuck in your throat before Maki does the favor of breaking the silence. "That's a lie. Any blind man can see you're tense."

"I'm not," you grumble looking back up at the ceiling and pretending you never saw Naoya. Maki hummed incredulously, crossing her arms and turning on her side to face you. "I don't believe you. Tell me what's wrong."

"I don't care if you don't believe me, nothing's wrong."

"Y/n, no one just randomly comes into their friend with benefits' room at 11:30 at night just because they didn't wanna be alone."

"That's a valid reason."

"Not when you look like that."

"Rude," you mumble, turning on your side nonetheless to face her, resting your hands under her pillow. Maki lifted a brow when she saw you fully, letting out an exhale. "So, what's wrong?"

"I already told you, nothing's wrong," you frowned as you mumbled through your otherwise pursed lips. Her face remained unfazed, like she didn't even hear you as her lifted brow stayed raised.

"That's bullshit," she grunts, finally changing her expression and frowning to herself. Her sharp gaze looked like it was piercing right through your facade, and your mind conjured up the idea that she already knew Naoya had dropped a visit. Your jaw clenched on its own, your teeth gritting against the other row as you sat there, having an undeclared staring contest as the time passed, carefully listening to the raindrops tattering against the window.

She'll find out eventually, one way or another, you think to yourself as the staring contest doesn't falter. It'd been silent for so long that you were beginning to think you said that out loud.

"I'll tell you when I'm ready," you grumble, frowning even more as you scoot closer to her unexpectedly warm embrace. Maki's cheeks flush red as the blood rushes to them, feeling your arms wrap around her as you snuggle your face into her chest and your hands come around to play with her hair. "For now, just let me be."

Maki sighed, letting her chest rise and cave for a moment while her hands came up to cradle your head, laying in a fetal position. The fan spinning around in her room did nothing to help the heat in her cheeks, ears and neck, and it was only getting worse the longer the two of you stayed like that.

Eventually the silence was slowly lulling you to sleep out of comfort, and soon enough your eyes were drooping until you fell asleep in her chest. Maki's eyes glanced over at the clock behind you which read 1:01 in the morning, and she almost scoffed at herself until she listened to your even breathing, and then she realized you'd fallen asleep. She sighs quietly before gently reaching across to turn off her lamp and finally let herself fall asleep.

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