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gojonanami · 6 months

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IS IT OVER NOW? - SUGURU GETO (ft. SATORU GOJO)

summary: suguru thinks the only way you'll leave him is if he lies to you about cheating on him - and it is. but turns out, you're not so easy to leave -- for him and his best friend. contents: 18+ only, smut, mentions of cheating, swearing, spoilers for vol. 0 + star plasma vessel and premature death arc, so much angst, but also too much smut (gotta earn that smut by getting through the angst), multiple orgasms, creampie, unprotected sex, fingering (f receiving), oral (f + m receiving), slight choking, panty play, overstimulation (f receiving) wc: 11,150 (why do i do this) playlist: is it over now - taylor swift, now that we don't talk - taylor swift, you are in love - taylor swift, say don't go - taylor swift

“It’s over,” the words slipped out of his mouth like second nature, the same way “I love yous” left his lips with a smile against your neck, but now those same lips were in a tight line. His eyes once filled with mirth, now stared at you with nothing in them — nothing but empty truth.

You don’t believe your ears — and how could you? The same man who laid with you on sleepless nights, in the silence of the way home after brutal losses, mornings spent in his wrinkled uniform white button up, stupid arguments ended in laughter, and the whispered promises kept like oaths in your hearts.

But now, they were broken — broken like your heart was.

“It’s over, I’m sorry — I can’t do this anymore,” and you’re stepping forward over this ravine with a snapping tightrope, but he’s on the other side with a lighter and a knife — daring you to cross it. Because he wouldn’t catch you — not anymore, “it’s not you—“

“Don’t give me bullshit assurances, Suguru,” you spit, the same name you had woken up this morning on your lips, all the love he had fostered over two and half years eroding away with his few words — slipping into hatred without another word, “give me a reason, I know Amanai and Haibara hurt you — hell, it hurt me too, but—“

“Don’t bring them up—“ he seethes, the same passion he once had for you — for even a scratch you had gotten from a mission that he promised to make a curse pay for again and again by making it serve him — now used for people who weren’t even here anymore, “it has nothing to do with them,”

And you almost laugh. It had everything to do with them. You had watched him fall apart over this summer — scapegoat the summer heat to Satoru’s face, when it wasn’t the heat that was withering him to nothing — a wilting flower simmered under the heat of loss. And with no one who could reach him — because he wouldn’t let them.

“You know that’s not true—”

“I cheated on you,” and the words die on your lips — along with any hope you had, “it was a stupid mistake but it showed me we can’t keep doing this,”

“You’re lying,” you denied it — no, no, no.

“I’m not,” and you can’t make sense of it, sense of anything, images of him tangled with another assaulting your senses — assaulting your heart, your soul, your body — bile rising in your throat that seared you on the way down as you swallow, “I didn’t want to have to tell you, but if it’s the only way for you to accept this, so be it,”

“Fuck off, you didn’t want to ‘have to tell me,’” hot, angry tears burning at your eyes, “fuck you,”

“Sweet—“

“You don’t get to call me that,” you snarl, heart rattling your ribs, as if it was trying to break through its bony cage, as if puncturing itself on the shards of your bones would hurt less, “not unless you’re trying to fix this,” you bargain, bargain for a love that was already lost.

“We can’t do this — I can’t do this to you,” and you give a watery chuckle, unable to meet his gaze; meet the gaze you once thought was your salvation — the thing you fought day in and day out to come home to, “I’m sorr—”

“Don’t bother,” you bottle the sadness in a barely kept shut box, shoved beneath your icy exterior, ice crawling over the recesses of your shattered soul, “don’t apologize for me for something you chose to do,” and you turn to walk away.

“Where are you going?”

And you give a terse chuckle, turning to look back, “you don’t get to care anymore, Geto.”

~~~

It was necessary. It was necessary. It was necessary.

That’s what Suguru keeps telling himself. He was caught in a tailspin, a tailspin that was only leading him one place, and he couldn’t take you with him. He couldn’t let that happen. But you keep haunting his thoughts, along with the other ghosts holed up in his head.

He hasn’t seen you in weeks. Only sporadic updates from Shoko when she humored his questions with a bribe of free cigarettes — and he didn’t know what you had told her but he knew you hadn’t told her that he had cheated (because Shoko would have surely ignored him). Shoko had even snuck a picture of you. You had grown your hair out, eyes no longer full of the joy as it once had been, and a cigarette you had said you had sworn you would never smoke between your lips.

And it only makes him want to pull the cigarette from your lips and kiss you again, swallow the smoke poisoning your lungs, hoping your lips would clear the poison from his system. But he couldn’t — he couldn’t go back now. Not when he couldn’t shake the darkness that crept over his soul — he couldn't go back to that spring, because those old days had died along with everyone else around him. Shot through the head just like Amanai.

He stares at the picture and it only makes him more sure — he can’t be in your life. He can’t be yours, he can’t even be your friend — because he can’t pretend it’s just platonic — can’t pretend it means nothing — not when you can see right through him, see the light fading from inside him, and you’d try to save him. Because that’s what you do. So he pays the cost instead, the cost of losing you — of losing your smiles, your laughs, your tears, and your voice.

And he didn’t even have his dignity — he had left that behind when he had lied to your face. Lied because he knew it was the only way you’d leave, and he couldn’t risk you staying. He couldn’t let your fingers dig into his sides, as he let himself drown, he couldn’t watch you choke on water along with him — no, no, it couldn’t happen.

He had long drowned — on that beach in Okinawa.

He got a phone call — Yaga — likely with another mission, and he only can think about Tsukomo’s words — over and over and over. He was treating the symptoms, eradicating curses day in and day out, he himself was a symptom of a broken system — a broken sorcerer.

And he flips his phone open, staring at the screensaver of you and him, your sleepy smile as you look up at the camera nuzzled against his chest — filled with the same love in your eyes that he watched drain from your eyes when he fed you perfectly prepared lies.

“Hello, yes, I’m available for a mission,” he hears Yaga give him the details of the mission on the other line, but it barely registers.

But at least he wouldn’t break you too.

~~~

You wake to a pounding at the door — the one time you had gotten time off, the one time you had taken the vacation you swore you would, the vacation that you would have your phone off, doors locked, no communication with anyone with Jujutsu Tech.

And yet.

There was someone banging on your door at 11:09 PM at night.

You stare at your ceiling at the spinning fan above you, and you couldn’t imagine how this night could get any worse. You throw off your covers, only in sleep shorts and a t-shirt, grumbling as you meander your way to the door to find Satoru, standing at your doorstep.

Your heart drops.

“What— did—“

“Suguru defected,” and you stare at him, as if he’s speaking a foreign language — two words made no sense in that order, no, no — he wouldn’t do that. Suguru out of anyone wouldn’t do that.

“No, that can’t—“ and Satoru comes inside, brushing past you, “Satoru—“

“It’s not just that,” he says softly, “he slaughtered a village, and his parents,” and you’re shaking your head, “why are you shaking your head—“

“What kind of weird prank is this, Satoru— he wouldn’t—“ and your voice dies in his throat as you see the look on his face, and all other words fade away from your lips except one — “why?”

And he explains — tells you what Suguru had told him, what had happened, why he left — “I couldn’t bring myself to kill him,” he murmurs, shaking his head, “I should have — if I had done what he did, Suguru wouldn’t have hesitated—“

“He wouldn’t have been able to do that to you, Satoru,” you scoff, leaning against your couch, Satoru sat beside you, “you’re the most important person to him, he wouldn’t have been able to even fathom the idea of hurting you. He would have just tried to convince you to change your mind,”

He gives a bitter chuckle, “Well then, he would have been able to change my mind all the same,” he’s holding his face, as if it would keep himself from falling to pieces — but his hands are too late — you can see the broken pieces of what was Satoru Gojo in front of you.

“Satoru, you can’t put Suguru upon yourself to save — he made the choices he made, you can’t change them. You can’t fix a person who doesn’t want to be fixed,” and maybe you were projecting — but you swore you saw the same pain, the same pain the day he broken your heart in Satoru’s eyes, “Suguru is smart enough to know where this road is leading—”

“And why can’t I completely blame him for choosing it?” he murmurs, his cerulean eyes finally meeting yours over the rim of his sunglasses, “I understand how he feels — so do you, you’ve seen the broken system, the deaths that could have been prevented—”

“But is this the way to fix it with innocent peoples’ blood on our hands?” you whisper, almost afraid to hear his answer, “I have friends who aren’t sorcerers — would he have me slaughter them too?”

“Well, he killed his own parents, so I wouldn’t doubt that,” he shakes his head, “Suguru was never the type to do things half-heartedly,” and his gaze falls again to the floor, “do you know after I had retrieved Amanai’s body — I asked Suguru if we should kill all of those people in the Star Religious Group?”

“Satoru—”

“He said there would be no point in it — no reason,” and he’s licking his lips, pulling his glasses off, “but he found his reason now, didn’t he?”

“Satoru, you had just come off Amanai, almost dying, you had barely a moment to process—”

“Why did he tell me to stop? Why did he save me when he couldn’t do himself the same courtesy?” And he’s rising to his feet, pacing the room, unable to sit still, “I thought I’d come here and talk to you because who else could understand him more than me? Shoko maybe, but even she doesn’t know,” his fists are clenched at his sides, as he whirls to face you again, “Why? I don’t understand how a person can change so much — how can you go from protecting the weak to—”

“Satoru, I don’t know why Suguru does the things he does—did you forget? He broke up with me,” the words reopen old wounds you thought had long scarred over, flesh wounds that had ripped you open, but had closed back up, now bleeding like new, “and he cheated on me,” and walked away without another word — twisting the knife with his silence.

Satoru’s brows knit together, his mouth opening as if to dispute it, but closing again — because if Suguru could murder his own parents, why wouldn’t he cheat on his girlfriend?

“I’m sorry—” and you laugh bitterly, meeting his gaze.

“I think we have bigger problems than his unfaithfulness,” and he says nothing, “what are we going to do about him?”

“Nothing—”

You stare at him, lips parted, “Satoru—”

“I can’t kill him,” his voice breaks, and it breaks you too, “I couldn’t bear it. I can’t be the one to—”

“But you’re the only one who can—” and you swallow the lump in your throat — how could you tell him to kill Suguru when you couldn’t imagine doing it either? “then what do we do?”

“Nothing, for now,” he murmurs, running his fingers through his hair, “I’ll monitor his moves as best I can, he’s good at covering his tracks — he knows how I operate more than anyone else does,” he says softly, “but not many can hide from the six eyes,”

“And you know how he does things too, Satoru,” you find your way his side, your fingers finding his, “it will take time for Suguru to make large moves — especially if he has two young children with him right now,” your heart aches at the thought — he promised to marry you one day, promised you a family once you both had settled down enough to consider it, and now he had two kids. But you weren’t with him.

His eyes find yours, “i’m sorry about what happened — I wasn’t there — I haven’t been here, at all—”

“You don’t have to apologize for that, Satoru,” and he’s shaking his head.

“Maybe I could have—”

“You can’t fix the whole world, Satoru,” you whisper gently, “you’re the strongest, yes, but that doesn't mean you can be everywhere and do everything,”

“I should have been here,” and you’re shaking your head, “I could’ve—”

“You couldn’t have, do you know how stubborn Suguru is? We couldn’t even convince him to cut his hair, much less change his mind about committing mass murder,” and he sighs, his eyes falling and rising to yours again, “hey, you’re okay, you know. You do too much, honestly, everything you’ve done — everything you will do—”

“And yet it will never feel like enough,” and you feel as if you could hear the same words leaving Suguru’s mouth too — the two had more in common than they had cared to admit.

“You are enough,” and your fingers find his cheek, “just as Satoru, you are,”

And his arms are pulling you into a hug then, head buried in your shoulder, his body consuming you with its warmth, your fingers running through his snowy locks, his tears wetting your shirt, but you say nothing, only holding him.

He pulls back after a few minutes, but his arms still wrapped around you, as he stares at you, barely any evidence of his tears, except for the redness on the tip of his nose, “You’re enough too,”

“I don’t know about that,” you joke, and he’s cutting you off with sharp words and a sharper look.

“You are, sweetheart,” and the familiar pet name makes your heart ache, “you’re more than enough,” and his palm is resting against his cheek, thumb rubbing the length of your cheek, “you’re so much more than you even know,”

And your breath catches as he draws near, “Satoru—” you shouldn’t. He shouldn’t. It wasn’t right. But why did his hands feel so nice against your cheeks? Why were you melting into his touch? Why didn’t you pull away?

“I just want to feel something else,” his hand is sliding into your hair, fingers pressed against your neck, “don’t you?”

And your lips find his first, lips brushing at first — and he’s so soft, his breath catching when you do, your fingers against his cheeks, and he’s pulling you back in again — it’s gravity. Again and again your lips meet, less hesitant with each kiss and each touch.

This shouldn’t be happening. You needed to stop it — Suguru had always teased that his best friend had a thing for you — hell, Satoru had all but admitted it with teasing words and promises to steal you away if Suguru ever had fumbled your relationship. But you knew he’d never would do it.

Or you thought he never would do it.

His hands slide down your body, pulling your hips closer to his, “tell me stop, if you want me to,” he murmurs, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt, “I want—”

And you’re kissing him again, pulling him along your living room to your bedroom, “I don’t want to stop,” you breathe, you want something else, you want Suguru’s touch cleansed from your body, you want something more — you want to be wanted.

It had been so long since you had been wanted. The last few months with Suguru felt like an exercise in futility. You barely saw him, much less touched him — mission after mission, and excuse after excuse, piled onto the pyre waiting to burn your love for him alive. How long had it been since you had even kissed him? Each time you tried would end in him pulling away, shaking his head and telling you he was tired.

And he was. He was tired — tired of his work, tired of jujutsu society, and tired of you.

But he didn’t have the courtesy to let you know.

But Satoru…

His fingers are quick to get you naked, deftly pulling your t-shirt over your head, as your fingers tug his jacket off with the same eagerness, “Eager, are we?” he murmurs, half hearted teasing, a ghost of a smile on his lips as you pout, “don’t worry, I am too, baby,” as your fingers tug his sunglasses off, and place them on your nightstand.

You roll your eyes, “Satoru—” and he’s swallowing your retort with his lips — and you can’t help but compare them in your mind, he was so much more aggressive than Suguru was. Suguru’s hands slid over your hips and thighs as if he had all the time in the world, while Satoru’s clung to you desperately, as if you’d dissipate under his fingertips, “should we be doing this? Suguru—“

“Cheated. Murdered. Left us,” And his lips slide from his lips to your jaw, before his teeth graze right under your jaw, drawing a gasp from your lips.

And his lips curl, “Such a pretty noise, just f’me,” and he’s biting and sucking, surely leaving a lovely mark against your skin, his tongue tracing over the mark, “did you make noises like that for Suguru?”

“Satoru—” and his fingers are tugging at your bra, teasing your erect nipples as he’s only tugging the garment down, “fuck—” and his lips kiss your tit, while he’s rolling the other nipple between his thumb and forefinger, “please,”

“Did you beg him like that too?” his fingers pull at the waistband of your shorts, teasing the skin underneath, “no wonder Suguru kept you for yourself,” he’s tugging off your shorts down your legs.

“Can we not talk about him if we aren’t gonna talk—” and his lips find yours again, teeth baring down on your bottom lip, “Satoru—” you gasp as he pulls at your lip, thumb sliding over the kiss bitten flesh.

“How can we not?” he murmurs, as his hands slide up your thighs to squeeze your ass, “is this the bed he fucked you on? Is this the way he touched you?” and he’s parting your thighs, large palms holding you apart, as his half lidded eyes linger on the wet patch on your panties, “is this how wet you got for him? Am I special?”

“Oh, fuck off—” and your words fall away as his finger presses against the wet patch, thumb against your puffy clit while his fingers tease your aching cunt.

“What was that, baby?” and he’s grinning, and he spares you, dragging your ruined underwear down, and he’s leaning down to your sopping pussy only to press teasing kisses to your inner thigh, before his lips press against your clit, “so fucking wet,” and he inhales, a languid moan leaving his lips, “if you taste as good as you smell, I’ll be cumming in my pants before I even fuck your pretty cunt,”

And his fingers sink into you — two at once, making your lips part, teasing your pussy open, the lewd sounds fill your ears as your slick squelches against his fingers, “Hear that? Such a greedy cunt, swallowing my fingers up even when I try to pull out,” and he’s pumping faster now, fingers curling against your walls, making you moan far too loudly, “moaning like that, and I’ve barely even started,” he hums, before his breath is warming your slick cunt as a warning as his tongue begins to lap at your clit, again and again.

“Fuck, Toru, need more—” His other hand is only grabbing you, pulling you impossibly closer as a third finger finds its way into you, and your hips move against his touch, begging him to fuck you in earnest. But he’s unrelenting. You can hear him swallow around you, every flutter of your cunt made just for him, as he nearly growls against you, vibrations only making you nearly grind yourself against his fingers and mouth. His tongue circles your clit, toying with it, before his lips close over it and suck, nearly making you scream, “I’m cummin—”

And his fingers finally find the spot they had been looking for, again and again with deft precision, as your walls clench around his fingers, as you gasp, arching your back, as you cum, and he’s licking your essence up eagerly.

Grinning as he pulls his fingers from you, licking your cum from his digits, before lapping at your leaking cunt, making you twitch around nothing, “Fuck, needy pussy practically begging me to fill you, huh? Hehehe,” he’s looking up at you all fucked out, your thighs twitching, eyes blown out — meanwhile his lips, chin, and nose were painted in your essence, the most beautiful work of art you’d ever seen, “didn’t realize how much I wanted this,” and he’s licking up your cum off his face, and wiping the rest on the back of his hand, and he’s climbing back over you, dragging his clothed bulge over your still sensitive cunt, making you both groan, “and I guess neither did you,”

You’re still looking up at him with lust filled eyes, as your fingers find his cheeks, “aren’t you wearing far too many clothes still?” and he’s smiling, “wanna help me out with that, sweetheart?” he asks, as his fingers press your boobs together, thumbs flicking against the abused nipples, cock twitching against your cunt as if he was imaging what it would feel like to blow his load right between them, his warm cum all over your face—

And you’re flipping him in a moment, pinned underneath you, as your fingers undo each button of his now definitely creased white button up, damp with your cum, as your palms drag over the exposed skin of his chest and abs, “Can’t wait to fuck myself on this later,” you murmur, leaning down to drag your tongue up his stomach, making him gasp deliciously, before your fingers busy themselves with undoing his belt, the click of the buckle only making you ache more, as you undo the zipper of his pants, tugging his boxers along with them to bunch at his feet hanging off your too small of a bed, and you can’t stop the gasp that leaves your lips.

He’s so fucking big.

Suguru was big, so fucking big that the first time he fucked you, he couldn’t even fit in your tight cunt. He had to give you multiple orgasms, prep you right, stretching you out with his fingers and tongue, and even a dildo, until you could fit himself with lube. And Satoru definitely wasn’t as thick as Suguru, but he made up for that in length — fuck, how deep would that reach? A pretty curve at the end with lovely veins running up that made your mouth water, white pubes dotting along it that were shaved, but grown out — likely from being away on missions for so long.

“You can take a picture, it’d last longer,” and your eyes snap up to the smirk on his lips, “although I tend to last very long,” he’s shrugging out of his shirt and kicking off his pants, before he’s pinning you under him again, “and if you do, maybe I can take a picture of you, full of my cum, my cock fucking it back in — it’s only fair, right, pretty?” and you shiver, as his finally unclothed cock bumps against your cunt, “oh, you’d like that wouldn’t you? I’ll make it my screensaver, you’d like wouldn’t you, filthy girl?”

And your fingers wrap around his cock, finally making him shut up with a hiss, “Gonna talk all night, or you gonna fuck me, Toru?” and he barks out a laugh, but it's consumed by a moan as you stroke him, leaning up to kiss along his jaw, “you gonna fuck the same hole your best friend did? Gonna cum there too?” and he’s thickly swallowing, your words leaving the great Satoru Gojo speechless, “what? If you brought up Suguru, so can I, right? Only fair,” you echo his words, and you’re squeezing around the base of him, “well, are you—”

And he’s pulling your hand away, teasing your dripping entrance with the tip of his cock, dragging his pre-cum over your cunt, letting your cum mix together, “Fuuuuuck, baby, so fuckin’ gorgeous,” and he’s manhandling you, grabbing your thighs, and hooking your ankles over his shoulders, “gonna fuck you now, sweetheart, any complaints?”

He grins at the way you shake your head eagerly, hips nearly grinding against his cock, and his tip sinks past your walls, “so tight, baby, did Suguru not fuck you right?” You can’t manage a reply, as you grasp at his shoulders, pulling him closer, as he sinks into you inch by inch, his brow furrowed beautifully as he finally bottoms out with a groan, “s’good f’me, so perfect—“ your walls flutter around him, your slick soaking him, and he’s tilting your head by your chin to make you look at where he’s sunk into you.

And he’s pulling out before sinking back in, and you’re gasping and squeezing him — how was he possibly deeper? “Fuck, baby, your cunt is trying snap me half,” and his hips are slapping against you as he fucks you in earnest, the squeaks of your mattress as he thrusts in and out and the lewd squelch of your pussy as it wraps around every inch and vein of his cock, “that’s it, that’s it, take me, take every inch of me,” and his balls are slapping against your ass, “did you take Suguru this well? Did you ever take anyone this well?”

And you’re a mess of just moans as he’s fucking you again and again, as he cups your chin, “I didn’t hear an answer or did the I fuck the words out of you too, baby?” He’s kissing you again, swallowing your noises with lips curled, before he’s pulling away with a groan, “can’t hear myself think with how loud you are — so fucking wet,”

“S’close, Toru, I-“ and he’s grunting, nodding, as he watches you, his cerulean eyes stare at you, right as his tip brushes your cervix—

“Cum for me baby, let me watch you cum around my cock,” and his fingers reach down between the two of you and rub against your clit, making your eyes roll back, as you fall apart around him.

Your walls are fluttering around him as you cum, moaning his name on your lips, as he pistons in and out again and again, thrusts stuttering as your walls squeeze him tight, “baby, I’m gonna cum, where do you want me—“

“Inside—please need to feel you cum—“ and you’re moaning, pulling him impossibly closer, and he’s sinks deep into you, and cums. He’s spurting his thick load into you, fucking it into you deeper and deeper, until you’re so full of him and his cum, you can barely feel anything else.

He’s slipping your legs off his shoulders, before collapsing on top of you, sinking into your arms. He’s pulling out, watching your mixed releases slip out of you with a groan, “how are you so fucking perfect?” He’s finding your lips in a kiss, before his nose nuzzles your neck, as your highs wear down.

Your fingers run through his white strands, “shouldn’t I be asking you that?” And he laughs, settling on your chest. And for a moment you forget — you forget the nights you spent with Suguru in this bed, the nights spent in tangled sheets with whispered nothings, with his arms around you, just like Satoru’s were now.

But only for a moment.

And as Satoru’s soft snores filled your ears, the only thing on your mind was the one person who you wanted in your bed right now.

~~~

“Still asleep?” your fingers run through his hair, “such a lazy-bones on your days off,” and your lips trace over his jaw, making his lips curl despite the draw of sleep, “gonna leave me hanging after last night?”

And your lips find his, sliding over his with practiced ease, the same way you breathed — it was natural, as his fingers find purchase in your hair, sliding back to your neck. Again and again, your lips cannot part his, if you can’t breathe without him — cannot exist without his touch.

And when you do part, he’s smiling, black fringe falling in his eyes, “So needy in the morning,” Suguru’s voice is gravelly with sleep, even as your fingers card through his black locks, “when did you become such an early riser? Usually I’m the one dragging you out of this bed kicking and screaming,”

Usually, but he’s the one who's struggling out of bed these days. He’s struggling to even function — lifting his arms in the shower feels like too much effort — and what’s the point? Would anything change if he left his bed today? Couldn’t he escape into the recesses of his unconscious for the rest of the day?

But you’re here — and you’re leaning over him, your lips curled in that smile that damned him into submission, because what could he do except submit to you — “who said anything about leaving this bed?”

But he needed to leave this bed, he thought, as your lips found his again — and how did you always taste so sweet? — he needed to leave these warm covers and inviting embrace. Because he couldn’t stay here.

He couldn’t stay with you.

But then your lips find his, and he can’t bring himself to stop, not when you’re climbing on top of him, straddling his waist, his growing bulge tenting in his boxers. He can he stop when you’re murmuring his name like that, eager fingers tugging the damp fabric down, letting his dick slap against his stomach — a bead of precum that you lean down, your tongue darting out to taste.

And he hisses, as your fingers wrap around him, teasing the head of his cock, thumb dragging over the slit, “sweetheart—“ he's warning — but you know he’s all bark and no bite — but he would be biting you later surely, with the way you toy with him — both his cock and his feelings.

Your mere presence in his bed has him questioning himself — questioning how necessary is it to end things? Why does he need to? He had this future planned — a certain way things were to go — he was the strongest, him and Satoru, he was going to work and settle down later, marry you, maybe even a kid or two — but now — the plans had changed.

He had changed.

Satoru was the strongest. Not him. And work as a sorcerer was killing him now, as you and Satoru were sent farther and further away, and Shoko had resigned herself to medicine — what did he have? Another year of this hell — he didn’t even know if he could last another day of swallowing curses. It had become second nature to him, but without a purpose, without a reason without any principles to guide him — it became worse than torture.

It was his personal hell.

And yet, as your soft lips closed around his leaking tip, fingers playing with his balls, as you sank your mouth onto him, drawing soft moans from his lips — he didn’t wanna give it up. How could he, when you were here? He could burn his life down to ash, watch what he worked for, what he had thought was his purpose fall to pieces in front of him — let himself fall to pieces — but that would mean burning you along with it.

And could he bear that?

Your tongue flicked against his length, tracing his veins as his tip hit the back of your throat, making you gag around him, as his fingers settled in your hair, “fuck, sweetheart, s’fucking good f’me,” and his hips shallowly thrust into your mouth, “take me so well, practically swallowing my dick,” and you swallow around him, pulling a moan from his mouth, his eyes flitting down to see the telltale press of your thighs together, “such a filthy girl, look at you, probably dripping wet from sucking me off,”

And he’s tugging you off, strings of spit and his precum connecting your lips to his aching dick, “Sugu—“ your lips are red and puffy, parted still, with cum and spit slipping down the corner of your mouth.

And he’s pulling you on top of him, fingers pressing into the soft flesh of your thighs, hissing as the damp fabric of your far too thin sleep shorts press against his still sensitive cock, “don’t even have to get you ready baby, already all prepped from just tasting me, aren’t you?”

He shouldn’t be doing this — he told himself today would be the day, he promised himself he’d stop pretending everything was fine. But when you felt so perfect on him — soft skin and soft sighs, your little gasp you gave when his fingers slide his t-shirt — the one full of small holes you had stolen from him when you first spent the night that you refused to throw out — up and over your head, exposing your chest to him — how can he stop?

“Suguru, please,” you whimpered as his mouth took one nipple in his mouth, warm tongue flicking against the pebbled flesh before his teeth graze it, pulling another hallowed moan from your lips, “need you,”

“Do you?” He hums, half teasing, half truthful — did you need him? Would you fall apart when he left? Would he spend nights wondering if you were anxious without him? Spend days wondering how you were filling them without him?

And you pause, strange look on your face, as your eyes scan over his features, palm sliding over his face, “of course I do,” passion falls away for a moment replaced with a different intimacy, “you’re my best friend,” and your lips slide over his as you lean down, “I’ll always need you, even when we’re both dust — I hope we spend it bathed in sunshine together,”

But would you? His eyes can’t meet yours — because he can’t see the sun in his future, only a dark descent into madness — a future spent alone. Because even with your smile at the end of his days, he couldn’t imagine spending another minute doing thankless work for miserable, ignorant, weak monkeys, only to do it all over again the next day. And his silence has you questioning him, but it’s like water fills his lungs, paralyzed by his own thoughts, and even as concern fills your eyes, he still can’t find anything to say.

So you say it instead.

“C’me here,” you murmur, and your hands slide over him, “I love you,” you kiss him all over his face — his nose, his cheeks, his chin, his forehead, before your lips hover before his, “can I—“

And he’s flipping you under him, pressing bruising kisses to your lips, as his fingers snake between your thighs, “you don’t need to ask— you never need to ask me,” he whispers in the dark, but even so, he knows — it can’t stay like this — even as he pulls your shorts down to bunch around your ankles and presses his leaking tip your messy folds — it can’t — because you were meant to live in the sunshine.

And he hilts himself in you fully, inch by inch, until he’s groaning your name in a grunt — and he belonged in the dark silence.

He knows this would be the last time. It would be. Because he had to — he couldn’t wait. It was only a waiting game until he was called to another mission, time until he dragged himself lower — until he couldn’t blame the heat for his dark bags under his eyes and the lost weight.

He had to.

And as he fucks you to your orgasm, instead of your lips moaning his name, your hard eyes meet his, lips parting, “I hate you—“ and his hands curl around your neck, “I hate lying traitors,” you choke out as his fingers squeeze your neck.

SNAP.

And he jolts awake, as whispers fill his ears, as his heartbeat slows, “Master Geto?” His eyes flicker over, spotting Nanako and Mimiko trying to snap a chocolate bar in half, “can you help us?”

A dream. It was a dream.

And he’s helping the girls, as they curl up beside him, “are you okay, Master Geto? You were talking in your sleep,” Nanako asks, ever curious, “you looked like you were having a bad dream,”

“I was,” he admits, eyes fixed downward, trying to force the image of you choking below him from his eyes, “about someone I used to know,”

“Who?” Mimiko pipes up, nibbling on her chocolate, and he sighs, running his hands through their hair, a bittersweet smile on his lips — he could still feel your lips against his, the smell of your sweat, the feel of your body.

“Someone I loved — who I left, but I guess…I guess I miss them,” why was he spilling his guts to these two little girls? Ones who had been through far too much to hear about his petty problems.

“Then why don’t you talk to them?” Nanako asks, “maybe you can tell them to live with us,” and his lips curl sadly.

“I don’t think she would want to talk to me,” and why would you? After what he had said, what he had done, and what he was going to do.

“You can try,” Mimiko says, she bites a chunk out of her share of the chocolate bar, “you tried to save us and you did — maybe you can do the same thing — save her,”

And he considers it — maybe he didn’t have to drag you down. Maybe he wouldn’t be — maybe he’d be saving you. Saving you from a system that would only land you in a pile of bodies — just like Riko, just like Haibara.

Maybe — maybe he could. Maybe he could be enough for you. Enough for you to leave. Enough for you to stay. He could have his family — and have you too.

~~~~

He still had your key.

You hadn’t bothered to ask for it back — maybe you had forgotten, maybe you didn’t care — but a part of him hoped it was for another reason, maybe you wanted him to come back.

Even so, he didn’t know if it would still work — maybe you had the foresight to change the locks — but it does, sliding into the lock with ease, as the tumblers slide into place and he’s turning the knob into a silent apartment. And it plants a stubborn seed of hope in his chest, maybe it wasn’t so crazy — aside from breaking and entering — maybe he would find his way back to you.

You’re likely on your walk this morning still — the same way you started the weekend, a walk and visit to your local coffee shop where you got the same order each time, and then you’d spend an hour browsing the shops for something to read or make. He scans the apartment — he knows you’re on vacation this week, from what Shoko had told him last, before he had spoken to Satoru. You hadn’t heard of his news, but you probably did now — if Shoko hadn’t told you, he knew Satoru would have.

And he wonders how that conversation went. Wondered how angry you were. Wondered how much you must hate him now — maybe you even wanted to kill him. But the logical side of him knew you didn’t have the skill to do so — you were a grade 1 — a cut above the rest, but still, your abilities weren’t enough, but emotionally…he may let you kill him, if only to spare him the agony of having to kill you — but he knew it’d kill you just the same.

He can see his days spent here before — you had finally moved off campus, convincing Yaga to let you have your own place early before graduation. You two had celebrated being free of dorm rooms with far too little space and too thin walls (too many times Satoru had spoiled the moment by either banging on the wall, blasting polka music, or just with smug remarks about yours and Suguru’s lack of sleep). He sees himself sitting at the kitchen counter, your stools pressed close as the two of you read the paper together, or laughed about something Shoko had texted or something stupid Gojo had done to piss off Yaga over burnt toast you had only burned while he’s pressing his lips to you. Or evenings spent on the couch cuddling while a bad movie he had picked played, but he’s more preoccupied with teasing you with brushes of his fingers against your bare skin or burying his face in the crook of your neck. And nights spent in your bed, entangled together, his arms around you listening to you breathe, skin dappled in the moonlight that streamed in from the window, wondering how did you ever exist at the same time as him?

And then the front door swings open, as he steps out from the bedroom, and he hears a bag slip falling to the floor, groceries spilling out, and his gaze finds yours, “What—”

“I came to see you,” he moves closer, and you step back — and he’s stopping, he doesn’t see fear in your eyes, he sees hurt — and he almost thinks maybe fear would pain him less.

“Well, I’m here,” you cross your arms, unable to quite meet his eyes, “anything else?”

“Sweetheart—”

“You don’t get to call me that, Geto,” your words were sharp as a knife, and you were trying to cut — and you did, deep. He bites back the sting, as he stares at you — your hair was longer, your eyes had bags, but your lips were twisted with pain, when normally it’d be quirked in a smile pressed against his cheek, “what do you want? Unless I should just save myself the trouble and call Satoru or Yaga?”

“I came to get you,” he steps forward slowly, and you don’t move away this time, “let’s be together. I—”

“You murdered people, you murdered your parents, you left Jujutsu Tech, you broke my heart, you broke Satoru’s and Shoko’s — and you want me to come with you?” you shake your head, barking out a harsh laugh, “did you lose your grip on reality between all the damage you’ve caused?

“If you let me explain—”

“And why should I let you? Your silence these past months was enough for me, you not fighting for us was enough for me, you spiraling without letting me help you was enough for me,” and your voice breaks, “and you cheating on me was enough for me, enough for me to know it’s over.”

“It’s not over, it’s not. I tried to force it to be over. I lied to you, I lied to myself, and said it was over, but it’s not, it’s not,” and he’s so close in a moment, and he can smell the familiar scent of your perfume mixed with your sweat — lavender, hibiscus, and something all the more sweeter, “not when it’s us,” and his fingers brush against your cheek, “please—”

“Don’t do this,” you’re shaking your head, again and again, “don’t, don’t, don’t, please—”

“How can I not? How can I not when I was foolish enough not to the first time, pretty?” he’s murmuring, “I love you, I do, I never stopped,”

“No, you don’t—”

“I do, I do, I know I said a lot of things, I need you to know, I need to explain, if you just let me—” and his fingers are sliding along your jaw, and finds uneven skin, and his eyes lingers, as his fingers tilt your chin up to find a fresh hickey left underneath.

“I—” and he’s drawing you close, so close, his dark eyes narrowed to slits, a deadly silence that makes your skin prickle under his gaze, until he’s warming your lips with his breath.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” but the telltale sign of your breath catching, your chest heaving against his, your lips parted as your eyes can’t pull away from him, his grip is slack enough for you to pull away — but you don’t.

You can’t.

And his lips hover before yours, warming your own with his heated breath, “Kiss me, baby,” and your cheeks warm, butterflies erupting in your stomach, heat blooming wherever his other hand sneaks, dragging over your sides.

“Why should I?” you’re grumbling, but you’re staying right where he has you — right in his arms, and you don’t know why, “you want to kiss me so bad so you do it,”

And he clicks his tongue, fingers sliding behind your head, weaving into your hair and against the soft skin of the back of your neck, tugging you closer, “you kissed someone else with those lips, tasted them, maybe a day or two — were you this bratty with them?”

“Oh fuck off, Suguru, you’re one to talk—“ and his lips swallow your bitter words, tasting them on your tongue, as he parts your lips with a rough squeeze of your hips. And his lips only quirk when your moan rumbles against him, his calloused palms sliding between your thighs.

“You open your legs this easy for them?” he says when he’s pulling away from your mouth, thumb dragging over your swollen spit soaked lips, “how’s that fair? I’m your first, baby, and I’ll always be your favorite—“

And any retort is lost as his teeth drag over your jaw, lips closing right over the hickey he had hated so much, normally calm eyes filled with dark contempt, and he’s biting down, pinching your already bruised skin between his teeth, sucking and soothing with his tongue, “Mine, isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

You nod wordlessly, and his fingers slide forward, wrapping around the front of your neck, thumbing the hollow of your throat, “Use your words,” and there was something darker — something he had let you have glimpses of in moments of missions, of arguments, even in bed — but it wasn’t a glimpse now — it was the whole goddamn picture above you.

“I’m yours, Suguru,” you manage, words strangled by a moan as his lithe fingers tug at the waistband of your panties, making them rub against your drenched cunt, “please—”

“So pliant now, aren’t you?” he hums, as he pulls harder, making the wet fabric rub against your aching clit, “maybe I should make you cum this way, don’t know if you deserve my fingers or my mouth yet,”

You’re a mess — mind swimming in the need for pleasure, why did it always feel so right with him? So perfect. It shouldn’t be. He cheated on you. He slaughtered humans. He left you. He left you without telling you anything of what was plaguing him, until it was too late.

It was too late. He was too late.

So why were you letting his hands tear your panties apart as he fucked you with them?

Because — your fingers reach for his cheeks, leaning up to kiss him, again and again, as your lips parted and met — it was Suguru.

It was always Suguru.

“Please, Suguru, I need you, need more—ngh—” and the fabric of your panties snaps under his fingers, as he’s ripped them off, pocketing them without another word.

“Did you let him touch you?” he’s kissing down your body, wet kisses, his lips lingering at your pebbled nipples, sucking one, while squeezing the other between his thumb and forefinger, before he switches, kissing down your stomach — tongue teasing your belly button — before he’s finally settling between your thighs, his fringe unrulier than ever, strands of his long hair slipping from his bun, “Answer me, sweetheart,” he orders, as he presses mean fingers to part your thighs for him, surely leaving bruises with how hard he’s holding your soft flesh.

“I did,” you can’t manage the words to tell him who — how can you tell him his best friend fucked you? That you let Satoru fuck you the night you found out he left. It was one thing for him to cheat with a random person, it’s another for you to go and sleep with his best friend, “Suguru, please—”

“Mouth or fingers?” and you swear, despite them not speaking, they still share the same dumbass brain cell—

“What the fuck does it matte—” and your words are cut off by Suguru slipping in two fingers at once into your leaking cunt, fucking you meanly as he watched your mouth fall open, head tilted back as your hips jerked against him, desperate for more. His fingers curled as they fucked your hole open with rapid thrusts, the squelch of your cunt going straight to your head and straight to his already hard cock.

“It fucking matters because this is my pussy, isn’t it, baby? I fucked it first, I fucked it best, and I need to know what others did while I was gone, don’t I?” and a third joins the other two, pulling another moan from your lips,“but if you won’t tell me, I’ll just use both, fuck you with all five fingers and tongue if that’s what you want to do,”

“Sugu—” you’re already so fuckin’ close, your walls shuddering around his cock, “I’m—“ and he stops moving, smiling down at your open mouth twisting in a scowl, “fuck—“

“That’s what we’re trying to do, baby, but I’m not gonna let you cum that easy,” he coos, his curled lips leaning down to lap at your cunt, warm tongue dragging up your clit, before sucking lightly, making you squirm, “tell me you want me,”

“Your fucking ego—“ and he’s plunging three fingers into your messy entrance, making you gasp — god, you hated how good he felt — his fingers bullying your insides with practiced ease, “Sugu— please—“ as his tongue teases your clit, flicking it, before his teeth nibble at it. You’re squirming in earnest now, nearly fucking yourself on his fingers and tongue.

He laughs, pulling his mouth from your cunt, lips glossy with your pre-cum,“How quick you’re going from cussing me out to begging me to cum,” you don’t care anymore — you need to cum, “tell me what you want, Princess,”

“Need to cum, please, please, Sugu—ah—“ and he’s sinking one more finger in you, before his lips close around your clit and suck, hard. Your back arches as something in you snaps, as the squelching and slurping of his fingers and sucking send you over the edge. You flood his mouth and fingers with your cum, squirting all over him, as he eats you out and fucks you through your orgasm, groaning as you clench around his tongue and fingers. Your thighs shake and quiver in his grip, fingers holding you still in place, as he keeps overstimulating you, “too much, can’t—“ you cry out, shaking your head, but he’s not relenting until you feel something build in again — more and more, until his fingers find that one spot in you that has you silently screaming as you cum again, even harder than the first. You’re soaked — soaked the sheets through, chest rising and falling as the pleasure ebbs away, tears slipping down your cheeks, folds fluttering as he pulls his fingers out.

His breath warms your dripping cunt, lips glossy and eyes dark, groaning as he watches your cum slip from inside you, as he looks up at you with a dark, half lidded gaze, “So fucking good for me, even hotter when you cry,” he’s licking his lips clean of your cum, before he’s pressing the pads of his fingers into your open mouth, “clean them f’me, baby,” and your tongue swirls around him obediently without question, pretty eyes glassy with tears making his rock hard cock twitch in his pants, “good girl,”

And he’s pulling his fingers from your mouth, before leaning up and pulling off his black sweater, the click of his belt as he kicks off his pants, your eyes glued to his thick cock — he was thicker than Satoru, so pretty too — black pubes groomed, nearly pressed against his stomach.

“Always so desperate for my cock, aren’t you, Princess? I’ll let you clean your cum off of it after, but I have to have you first — got to reclaim what’s mine,” and he’s dragging his cock against your clit.

You gasp, twitching against him, but more than the pleasure, the guilt creeps in — flashes of Satoru from the night before with hands over your hips and thighs, and you had kept quiet about your life from the time you spent away. You had done your best to stay away from Suguru, even though you knew he hadn’t exactly done the same — asking Shoko questions, for pictures, for any scrap of you.

And you couldn’t lie — not about this.

“Suguru,” and he’s pausing, eyes meeting yours with a flash of concern, but the words tumble out with warning, just the way he had done with you, “I slept with Satoru,”

And he’s silent — emotions roll in and out on his face — confusion, hurt, anger, and acceptance — they all fall away as he’s only staring off to the side, unable to even look at you. Words fall away, stopped in your mouth after the bitter truth that’s left it and you wonder — is it over now? Seconds feel like hours — your fingers curl into the sheets, looking for something to hang onto, to ground you. Why did he have to start this? You were fine with the burnt ashes of the love he had scorched over, but now he started a fire, and you didn’t want to put it out. You didn’t want to go out.

You didn’t want him to go.

But he doesn’t. Instead, his eyes finally find yours for a moment, before he’s kissing you again and again and again, bruising kisses that slaughter any sense of logic and words from you — but his message is clear, he doesn’t wanna talk, especially as his hand reaches does to brush his aching tip against you, smearing his pre-cum over the length of you.

And he’s sinking into you, and somehow you’re still so tight around him, “Fuck,” he hisses, the first word that leaves his mouth, “did Satoru not fuck you right last night?” and your lips part as he thrusts harshly and smoothly, bottoming out with one single movement, “still as tight as when I took your virginity, aren’t you, baby?”

“Suguru,” you’re so full, he’s so thick, and these last few weeks without him almost had your cunt forgetting what he felt like filling you — his hands gripping your thighs to press them back against your stomach, as he pulls back only to slam back in, making you head loll back, “s’good, s’full,” it’s all you can feel, all you can think about, was him, just him.

“That’s right, I’m the only one who can fill you like this, the only one that makes you feel this good,” the sounds of his hips slapping against you send more heat flooding downward, as he grunts, watching himself piston in and out of you, “take me s’well, my good girl, mine,” he growls, “squeezing me so tight, never want me to leave this sweet cunt, do you?” your thighs shake as he presses them back, balls slapping against your ass, as he only sinks deeper and deeper, “could fuck you all night, don’t hide that face from me,” he’s forcing you to hold his gaze as he fucks you — your glassy eyes blown out with pleasure, your kiss ruined lips parted for him as you panted and moaned, forehead glossy with sweat, “wanna watch you cum around my cock, wanna see you scream my name, pretty baby,”

His hand slides behind your ass, grabbing a fistful and finding a better angle before slamming back in, and with his filthy words, its enough to have you cumming with his name on your lips, “Sugu—fuck, Suguru!” your voice goes to a pitch you didn’t know it could reach. Toes curling as your gummy walls swallow him in, your pretty mouth forms an ‘o’ and he grunts, imagining those lips around his cock, his thrusts growing sloppy as he fucked you through your orgasm. His dick was soaked, his precum mixing with your cum.

But he wasn’t done yet.

He’s slapping your clit, making you jolt, as he’s still pressed inside you, “Sloppy fucking girl, I know you have one more for me,” and you’re so fucked out, he’s guiding your legs around his lower back and hips, making you gasp, “gonna cum in this perfect princess cunt,”

“Sugu, can’t, It’s too muc—” you nearly sob, but he’s already fucking you, thrusting again and again. And it doesn’t take long for another orgasm to build, already far too sensitive from your last. It’s too much — the feeling of his hips slapping against yours, the feeling of his cock twitching inside your walls, the small moans that your tight cunt pull from his lips, and when his tip brushes against that perfect spot, as his thumb bears down on your clit — it’s too much. You see stars as you cum again, even harder, the loud squelch as he fucks you still pulls a deep groan from his lips.

“Gonna cum, baby, gonna make a mess of you, fill you up,” he’s grunting, and you’re only nodding and moaning “yes,” still fucked out from your orgasms, but it’s enough for him notch himself deep in you and cum, painting your womb white, as he spurts his seed inside you.

And his hips stutter, as he eases your legs down, still shaking and quivering from being fucked, and he rubs them, as you pant, his fingers then reaching to wipe your tears, as he eases himself out, groaning as he watched your mixed cums leak out of your cunt.

“Suguru,” you murmur, and he’s leaning over you, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead, and your hand reaches for him, cupping his cheek, “I love you,” and you do — you always loved him, you always would — there was never anyone else. Only him. But the words can’t find their way out of your mouth, sleep calling for your attendance, as your fingers run through his hair, pulling his hair tie off, and carding their way through his long hair, “I love the long hair,” you hum, eyes fluttering and heavy with sleep.

“Do you?” His voice is gravelly, as he leans down, his lips finding your own for moment, before reaching for a bath towel you had slung over your metal bed frame, as he cleans you up, “how much?”

“Too much, Sugu,” he chuckles softly, as he finishes cleaning you and himself up, pressing soft kisses to your thighs, as he moves to get up and put the towel in the hamper — your hand catches him by the wrist, “Don’t go,”

And his gaze softens, as he shakes his head, “I’m just taking this to the hamper, I’ll come back to bed,” and your lips form an unfairly cute pout, but you relent, letting him walk away to the bathroom to dispose of the towel, and when he comes back, you’re already asleep, curled up.

He stands in the doorway, watching your chest rise and fall — and he’s walking over, pulling your comforter over your body, as he holds it open for himself, pausing, only to let it fall and settle on your side.

He couldn’t ask you to come with him. Couldn’t whisper those words in the night, because you couldn’t save him from the dark — not you, not Satoru, not a single person. Because he wasn’t cut out to live in this world with a smile on his face — and you always deserved to have one on your lips. And Satoru could do that for you. Not him.

It was never him. He was never good enough — his fingers trace over your cheek, pressing another kiss to your forehead — not for the jujutsu world, and not for you.

And he turns to leave, sparing a single glance at you — but he’d make a place for him. And maybe for you — make a world that’s safe for them to live in. Where he didn’t have to watch you join the other bodies piled up around him.

He’s pulling the door shut to your apartment softly, his key left on the table.

It was over.

~~~

“You’re late again, as usual,” Suguru smiles, slumping down against a wall, “Satoru,”

“The ones in Kyoto, they were under your command?”

“Yes, they all were,” he sways, holding his shoulder, he didn’t have much time left — he couldn’t feel anything, even as he held his wound, he felt nothing — no pain, no anger, no hatred, “no matter what anyone says, I hate those monkeys,” and his thumb brushes lightly over his shoulder, “but I never held any hatred for those in Jujutsu High School,”

“Did you not? Could’ve surprised me,” and his head turns slowly behind Satoru, and he sees you — sees you for the first time in a decade. Even at his visit to Jujutsu High, you weren’t around — away on a mission, just as he had intended.

Satoru only sighs, sparing you a glance, “I told you not to come here—”

“And I told you that I needed to see him,” you brush past Satoru, kneeling by Suguru — and he can’t take his eyes off of you — he had seen pictures, ones he had his twins take (not wanting those money grubbing monkeys to have even an image of you), and he saw you had done quite well for yourself after he had left. A teacher, just like Satoru — trying to foster a new generation of sorcerers — he was right, you were just like him, weren’t you? And he watches as your brow furrows, scanning over his injuries, gears grinding, but he has to halt them right then and there.

“There’s no saving me now, sweetheart,” he clicks his tongue, “but you know that already, don’t you?” he takes an unsteady breath, leaning back against the wall, his eyes falling over you again, “still so beautiful — how’s that possible?”

“Not beautiful to stick around for though, am I?” your words aren’t laced with bitterness so much as it’s a question, a question of why he had left you. Why did he never had come back.

“But beautiful enough to always stay faithful to,” his words are soft, “I don’t have many regrets, not any at all truly in retrospect, but I did lie to you about cheating—”

“I know,” your hand uses your sleeve to clean some of the blood on his face, scarlet on your palm, “I realized once I thought about it — and I’ve had plenty of time to think about you, Suguru,” your fingers trace his jawline softly, “because thoughts were all you left me with,”

“Not all I left you with,” his eyes slide back to Satoru and back to you, lips curled in a smile, “you two were always more better suited than I ever was to you, princess,”

“Suguru—” Satoru starts, but Suguru is shaking his head.

“It’s rude to interrupt a person’s last words, Satoru,” he clicks his tongue, and his lips curl as he finds your gaze again, your eyes glassy, “don’t look like that, sweetheart,”

“Suguru, why did you have to leave?” and he’s shaking his head slowly, resting it against the wall behind him.

“Because I didn’t belong there — I couldn’t live in this world with a real smile on my face,” and his hand reaches for you, but stops, falling back to his shoulder, and tears slip down your cheeks, “but with you, I came close,” he murmurs, and he knew it was time, “Satoru,” and that’s all he had to say to have Satoru start to pull you away.

“No, no, please—” you’re shaking your head, trying to push past Satoru, but you slump in his arms, “I love you, Suguru, I always will,”

And he gives a small chuckle, lips curled in that smile that always damned you — “At least curse me at the end,”

But you never could, as you step away, squeezing your eyes shut as you hear the distant splatter of blood. And you knew — you knew you would have stayed forever, stayed with him forever, if he only had told you not to go.

But he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t.

The two of you bury him, somewhere secluded, where no one would find him. The cold ground was hell to dig up, but the two of you managed somehow, each shovelful feeling like a funeral march with no end in sight. Neither of you could bear the thought of his body being poked and probed for its secrets, before being burned, turned to the ash and smoke, the very same he had left your lives in when he had torched it all to the ground. But even so, you couldn’t bear it — and as you look at the mound before you, you want to claw his body up — dig him up as if it would bring him back to life, pull whatever being or force out of the sky and make them give him back.

But you can’t — it’s over.

Satoru’s hand finds your shoulder, pulling you into a hug, burying your face in his chest, as he holds you tight to his chest. And he’s leading you away from Suguru, a single flower left over his grave, as the cold air freezes the tear stains left on your cheeks.

It’s over now. It was over now, right? Right?

And it was.

Until Shibuya.

a/n: this was supposed to be 3K, and ended up being over 10K. story of my life. this fic is thematically sponsored by 1989 (taylor's version), in particular, the vault tracks that helped me write this. you can literally spot lyric references almost throughout the entire thing

tag list: @ghostkonigkeegan141, @lightblueexorcist, @aemondseyesocket, @lemonpoppy-seed, @stran-dedforyou, @tiaraqueen123, @sun-daddy-yoriichi, @grooveandshit, @prettyabc, @kaskasi, @moranguitosz, @haunting-venus, @ninneko19, @psychicai, @d1rtv, @forest-fruits-jam, @katie91239, @dud3vil, @robynnikole151, @ivory-cove, @ohbi-the-way, @numbinyourchest, @dabisdolly, @kal0pssiaa, @glaceliy, @3atinguout, @iovesatoru, @imthebestbye-blog, @michelleeveline, @ichikanu, @ummcumfurtable, @collectionofdolls, @auraeum, @reesesnieces, @goldfishsmemory, @itshobiscussposts

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prettypei · 9 months

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plot: you discover their childhood photos; fluff! crack!

reader: gn! Reader

pairings: childe, diluc, kazuha, ayato

warnings: some spoilers for story quests? kinda, pre-Snezhnaya

(a/n): was flippin thru the family album when I got the idea and I 4got childe's sister's name LMAO

✰CHILDE is surprised when he hears giggling in the attic. He's visiting his old home in Snezhnaya and he invited you along with him and now he realizes there might be... a little ghost girl up there? Not quite sure. So he's relieved when he finds out it's just you and his sister, although he scared you both awfully with a baseball bat in his hand when he came up. It turned out that you were...looking at his family album? He sits down next to the both of you, looking though them too. "Hey, remember when dad used to take us fishing?" Childe asked, smiling at his sister. "Oh yeah!" She giggles, "We failed a lot, didn't we? We only came home with two fish!" Childe chuckles. "Yeah, and the look on mom's face when we tried gutting the fish ourselves." All of a sudden, he hears a howl of laughter coming from...you? "What's so funny?" He scoots over and...oh. He slams the book shut and screeches:" OKAY THAT'S ENOUGH FOR TODAY! EVERYONE HEAD DOWN!!" You're still snickering to yourself as you head down the stairs and manage to gasp weakly:" Y-you never told me you fell in the river when you were young!"

✰DILUC thinks the tavern is especially loud today, but he dismisses it. It's probably due to Kaeya's outgoing personality and your chaotic brain. However, he pauses when he sees Kaeya passing...pictures around the bar? He's a little confused at why everyone thinks it's so hilarious. He sees a knight giggling at the picture in her hand, and he snatches it out of hers and looks at it himself. His eyes widen in embarrassment as he realizes what it is: it's an old picture of him and Kaeya playing in the mud, his clothes stained as he smiled a toothy and boyish grin at the camera. You walk over to him and wave the picture in front of his face. "Oh? What's this? Bartender and serious Diluc-" "Give that back." He snaps, taking the photo from you, his face flushing a deep shade of red. "You looked so cute in them though..." You tilt your head. "What happened?" "Ha ha, very funny." Diluc rolls his eyes. "But you were cute when you were a kid babe, that I gotta say." You grin as you pinch his cheek in a playful manner. He rolls his eyes once again, but he can't hide the tiny smile that's forming on his lips.

✰KAZUHA's trying out a new melody on his leaf when he saw something flutter past him. He snatches it just in time, examining the photo. He smiles when he realizes it's a picture of him when he was a kid, barely over 10, holding his first sword. "Kaz! Did you see- oh, it's in your hand." "Indeed it is." He chuckles as he hands it to you. "Why do you have this, (name)?" "Oh, I was checking out the library in your home and I found this! I'm really sorry it almost blew away..." "At least I caught it. Did you know this was the first sword I held?" Your eyes widen in awe. "Really? But you look so young in this!" "I was, I was probably about 13 years old." "Thirteen!" Your eyes nearly bulge out of your skull. "Yeah" he chuckles. "I was pretty young, wasn't I?"

✰AYATO hears a knocking on the door to this room and opens it, and he’s overjoyed when it’s you and not another merchant trying to scam him once again. “(name), darling what brings you here?” “Uh-uh-nothing.” You fail to hide the photos behind your back and ayato asks: “what are those, dear?” You sigh and confess: “Ayaka gave me these. These were childhood photos of you…I was just curious, I swear! I was going to return them to her today but…” you gesture helplessly at him. He chuckles and says “give me those.” You hand them to him and he examines them. Most of them were pictures of his achievements over the years: “winner of sword beginner competition”, “most likely to succeed”….but there was a picture of his family. He smiles at it and smiles at you. You hang your head in shame. “That’s your mom and dad isn’t it? I’m sorry that they’re gone.” He pulls your hand inside as he says “I have you as my family now, (name).”

#pei writes 🖋️#genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact #genshin headcanons #childe x reader #childe x you #childe x y/n #ayato x reader #kamisato ayato #diluc x reader #diluc #diluc x you #kazuha #kazuha kaedehara #kazuha x reader #kazuha x you

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kitchenisking · 2 months

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March Fic Rec

back to back recs cuz I wasn't paying attention to the weeks fly by😅

Obsession by Rae666 - (Rating: Mature, Words: 2,399, sterek)

Derek gets hit by a witch's curse and is confined to his loft as his uncle searches for a cure and Isaac stands guard. But as the curse grows worse and Derek's obsession with a certain pale skinned person becomes increasingly intense, how long can the team keep Derek and Stiles apart, especially when Stiles decides to take matters into his own hands?

The Wolf by rororowyourboat - (Rating: G, Words: 3,901, sterek)

Stiles and Derek haven't seen each other in years, but after talking on the phone nonstop for months now, Derek is finally moving back to Beacon Hills. The day he's supposed to arrive, he stops responding to Stiles' texts, and then a blue-eyed wolf shows up on his porch steps. Obviously something has happened to Derek, and Stiles needs to help him out... right?

Tease by katrint - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 4,852, sterek)

Stiles is used to Derek being all growly, claiming and rough when he gets jealous, but when something that usually would make Derek all the above happens, and Derek shows no interest in Stiles whatsoever, Stiles starts to worry.

Ulterior Motives by useyrwordsderek - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 11,082, sterek)

In which Stiles is warm for Derek’s form, Derek is repressed, and Erica is awesome. (Lydia is also awesome, but that goes without saying.) Author’s notes: Set after Season 2; mild spoilers for all of S1 and S2. Previously posted to LJ. My first Teen Wolf fic! Be gentle!

It feels like a perfect night (for breakfast at midnight) by princecharmingwinks - (Rating: G, Words: 1,068, sterek)

Stiles is floating on cloud nine. He is absolutely living his best life. It's a Saturday night, he's out with his friends and he's dancing like it's his birthday. Because it is! (Or it will be in 20 minutes, once midnight ticks around). And what better way to celebrate the respectful age of 22 than a night out?

The Hale Beast by secretfanboy - (Rating: Mature, Words: 17,707, sterek)

Stiles would rather be at home playing X-Box than attending the ceremony inaugurating the Wolf nation's sovereignty over the Argent kingdom, but he's the Sheriff's son so those are the breaks. What he doesn't expect is the feral werewolf Prince Derek AKA The Beast to take an interest in him.

He was alone with the Beast. His heart started pounding its way up into his throat. A burst of static came from his cell phone. "Scott! Oh my god! He's here! The Hale Beast is here with me and I'm alone and no one is here to witness when he kills me...to death!"

Treasure by Hedwig221b - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 71,231, sterek)

“I know you don’t trust me,” Derek grunted. When Stiles inhaled to retort, Derek caught his chin and pressed a finger against his lips, making the boy freeze in place, eyes impossibly wide. “Don’t argue. I expected it. Wolves don’t trust easily, too. I just wanted you to know that… I’m sorry. I was selfish and didn’t see what was in front of me. You don’t need to worry. I’ll take care of everything.”

It was a thought that grew in his mind, spread to his heart and took root there, reincorporating into a deep desire and a vital need. Derek will take care of him and his little pup, he’ll bring the hearts of his enemies and put them at the boy’s feet. He’ll court and he’ll conquer.

The Mending That You Need by torakowalski - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 3,861, sterek)

“He’s not my boyfriend, Stiles. He’s a man from a club. I couldn’t call him, if I wanted to.”

Even Forbidden Fruits Get Picked by flitterflutterfly - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 18,658, sterek)

When Stiles’ best friend gets himself bitten by a rogue werewolf, Stiles convinces him to seek aide from the local pack. Stiles tags along, ready to help Scott despite the knowledge that he likely wouldn’t be welcome. After all, Doms rarely ever approved of Stiles and he thought the Hales would be no exception. So he was surprised to find that not only had the rogue seemed to develop some kind of creepy fascination with him, the young alpha wolf, Derek, seemed to want him as well.

Transformation by sffan - (Rating: T, Words: 1,885, sterek)

“Dude. You turned into a wolf. What the hell? When did that start being a thing?”

#sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #fanfiction #stiles x derek #kitcheniskingficrecs #ficrec #fanfic

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honeybeedrabble · 5 months

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Casanova (Cheating!Sasuke x AFAB!Reader pt. ii)

CW: Sasuke being a horrible husband/father/baby daddy (like actually he’s horrendous 😭). Throwing up (it’s a little gross, sorry), hand job, lip biting, dry humping, unprotected piv (please don’t be stupid), creampie (PLEASE DONT BE STUPID), breeder!sasuke, shoulder biting, degradation and slight praise, spitting, breast play, lmk what i missed !! (SPOILER WARNING!!!: pregnancy sex)

18+ MDNI

Sasuke went home that night a wreck. His feelings were entirely conflicted. Did he do the right thing? No- of course he did?! You were in need of help and only he could deliver. If anyone else were in his position they would’ve done the same thing. For crying out loud- you practically straddled him and barely left room for denial. Then again… Sasuke didn’t deny you the opportunity… But you were begging for it- needing it-

“Sasuke… is everything alright?” The sweet voice of his wife brought him out of his daze. He cleared his throat before taking a sip of water.

“Y-Yeah… long day…” He said softly, setting the glass back down on the table before picking up his fork and digging into the home cooked meal. The home cooked meal his wife made him. His wife Sakura.

“Do you want to talk about it-“

“No!” He raise his voice nervously. Sarada looked up from her own meal with wide eyes. She glanced from between her mother and her father, a brow raised in confusion.

“Um… Dad?” She asked.

“Y-Yes?”

“Is everything okay?” His daughter asked. He looked at her with a broken heart, the product of he and his wife’s love encapsulated in a single child, practically berating him for what he had done to their family. She knows… she has to…

“I um… Yeah… I’m fine. I’m sorry it’s just one of those days, you know? I think I’m just tired.” Sasuke shook his head, then abruptly stood up from the table.

“Going to bed already?” Sakura asked, getting out of her chair to collect his plate and bring it to the sink.

“Yeah, I think so. I’ve had a long day and tomorrow I write my mission report. Dinner was great, Sakura. Goodnight you two.” He said, walking over to the bedroom he and Sakura shared.

Upon returning home he promptly took a shower, scrubbing his whole body of the adultery he committed off, trying to erase the sin from his skin. To no avail- he still felt awful. He felt even worse staring at the bed he would share with his wife, how they slept next to eachother every night they were both home.

Sasuke wanted nothing more than to sleep on the couch- he would even sleep outside after doing what he did. But he knew it would raise suspicions, so he did what he usually would do and got into his pajamas, slipping into the soft bedding and closing his eyes to sleep.

Sasuke woke up to soft hands under his shirt, he recognized them.

“What are you doing?” he grumbled sleepily.

“Sorry, sometimes I do this to our pillows when you’re not home. Bad habit, I forgot you came back tonight.” Sakura smiled, nestling her neck into the crook of his neck.

“Don’t be sorry, we’re married.” Sasuke almost laughed.

“You’re right,” Sakura giggled, her hands trailing down his abdomen slowly. Sasuke inhaled deeply, feeling her hands break past his waistband and land at his crotch.

“What are you up to?”

“Well you said it yourself we’re married. It’s got me thinking about how intimate we used to be. How intimate we should be again.” Sakura said, her hand wrapping around his shaft. Sasukes breath hitched, his hand coming up to caress the arm Sakura had draped around him.

Sakura gently gripped Sasukes shaft, moving up and down his member, a finger tracing along the head of his cock. She bit her lip, her finger pressing into his tip to try to gather any precum he had. Sasuke felt his face grow hot, still guilty about the affair from earlier that day.

“Um… is everything okay?” Sakura asked, her hand stilling around his dick.

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“I mean… you’re still… y’know….”

“Still…?”

“Soft.”

Sasukes heart sunk. He didn’t even realize it until now. He shifted under the blankets, backing up into Sakura further.

“Here, try now.”

“Okay,” Sakura hummed, gently kissing his neck. The kisses helped, precum starting to flow out from his cock and he was about half mast a few minutes into the handjob.

But Sasuke couldn’t help it, even though he was comfortable in bed, had his wife next to him and everything he would need to get off, he couldn’t. Not when all he was thinking about was how you mounted and rode him for what felt like hours that afternoon.

“Enjoying yourself?” Sakura purred, licking a stripe up his neck.

“Yeah…” Sasuke lied. After a few more pumps he couldn’t take it anymore and with the hand he had on her arm, he gently pushed Sakuras hand off of him.

“Sasuke…?”

“It’s fine, really. I’m just tired. Let’s save this for tomorrow, please?” He asked, still not turning around to face her.

“Oh, yeah sure. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you up.” Sakura said softly.

“It’s fine. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight…”

____________________________________________

Sasuke woke up early that morning, he needed to get out of the house desperately. The only way he could get his mind off of you was with work. But said work was writing the mission report on the genjutsu user from just outside the village. The same genjutsu user who held you prisoner to your own urges, eventually holding Sasuke a prisoner of his own as well.

He put his pen down, unable to shake you from his brain. He left the office and took of to your house, not caring how early it was to wake you- he just needed to see you that desperately.

When Sasuke knocked at your door you opened it wiping your eyes. Your skin seemed paler than usual, your body fatigued. He felt bad, assuming he had done a number on you.

“May I come in?” Sasuke asked, looking around nervously.

“What are you? Some kind of vampire?” You asked with folded arms. “Yes you can come inside.” You shut the door behind him as he walked inside.

“Sorry to come by unannounced like this, especially this early…” Sasuke apologized. You shrugged.

“It’s fine, besides… I’ve been up for a few hours already…” You murmured softly, shifting nervously.

“Oh, well I guess it’s good timing then.”

“Maybe for you…” you said.

“Listen I need to talk to you.”

“Yeah, well so do I.” You seemed distant, slightly uncomfortable around Sasuke. He picked up on it quite quickly.

“It’s a good thing we’re on the same page then. About the mission report-“

“I’m pregnant.”

Sasuke paused. He felt adrenaline pumping through him, tensing up every muscle in his body. He could hear your words echo through his mind, over and over again. He couldn’t move.

“I…I’m sorry?” He asked, face as white a ghost, his eyes desperately searching yours to see if you were lying.

“I’m pregnant.” You said again, voice shaking.

Sasuke felt his legs give out, he fell to the ground, his ass hitting your wooden floor heavily as his stomach churned. He dry heaved, already sweating bullets. He ran to your bathroom and vomited profusely into the ceramic pot, his vision dizzy.

“That’s how I found out.” You said, leaning in the doorway. Sasuke flushed, turning on your sink and washed his mouth out, splashing his face with the cold water.

“But you haven’t taken a test yet?”

“No, but it seems pretty obvious to me that I am.”

“How can you be so sure?” He asked defensively, anxiety making him shudder.

“Don’t make such a big deal out of it. I can just go and get the procedure to get rid of it.”

“Get rid of it? Of an Uchiha baby?” Sasuke asked, heart racing.

“Calm down. If you wanted another Uchiha baby maybe you should’ve asked your wife to give you another one.” You snapped, walking away from him.

“You don’t get it, my clan is dead. It needs to be restored!”

“Sasuke for the love of everything, why don’t you fuck off? If your wife finds out about this she’ll kill me. Like… actually kill me. I don’t even know what she’ll do to you.”

Sasuke took a deep breath then let it out, holding your wrist and bringing you to your couch so you could both sit down.

“What happened between us was for the worst. It shouldn’t have happened and we both know that. But what if we just say that the baby isn’t mine? There’s no guarantee they’ll unlock their sharingan.”

“Sounds great! As a matter of fact, I’m confident I can raise your child as a single parent while you run off to your own little family and forget the two of us exist!” You sarcastically exclaimed, eyes burning into sasukes.

“Well what do you want?” He asked, standing up abruptly, raising his voice.

“No Sasuke, what the fuck do you want?!” You yelled, matching his volume and standing up with him.

“I want to pick you up and fuck you right on your kitchen table.” He growled, towering over you. Your eyes widened, the fists you didn’t even know you were clenching suddenly became less tense as you two stared deeply into each others eyes.

You narrowed your eyes at him, then quickly wrapped your arms around his neck and dove in for a kiss. You both were winded on impact, but met each other half way and soon enough tongues were being reintroduced to each other. He tasted like black coffee, and for some reason it turned you on. Knowing that as soon as he woke up and had his morning coffee he was on his way to see you. It was so fucked up, but you couldn’t deny the way it made you feel.

“You’re such a piece of shit…” You murmured against his hungry lips. He let out a soft “mmm” in agreement, unable to break the spell he was in.

His arm grabbed under your knee and pulled it up onto his hip. You wrapped your leg around him and as soon as your sexes met there was an audible sigh shared between the both of you.

“On my kitchen table you say?” You whispered, lips softly pressing against his.

“I’ll fuck you on your porch if you’d let me,” Sasuke moaned, your cunt gently humping against the growing erection in his pants. His hand left your knee and instead attacked your ass cheek with a rough smack. You let out a playful yelp, smiling at him before biting his lower lip, then licking it softly. You let it go and watched as it snapped back.

“I don’t doubt that for a second, Casanova.” You went down to kiss his neck, running your tongue along his adams apple while your hands went down to undo his black cape.

It fell to the ground with a plop, Sasuke had no interjections. Next, you unbuttoned his shirt, sliding it off his shoulders and arm. You touched his warm skin, feeling how toned his chest was. You licked his clavicle and he gently sighed, patting your ass so you could wrap your legs around his hips, you quickly obeyed.

He lifted you up and moved you to your kitchen table, practically tearing your soft pajama tank top off and revealing your soft tits underneath. His mouth watered as his eyes locked onto your hardened nipple, he quickly moved to suck one into his mouth, rolling his tongue around it.

You let out a moan that sounded like it had been ripped from your throat, your hands tangling in his jet black locks. He stuck his hand down your pajama shorts and yanked them off along with your panties. You kicked them off when they had reached your ankles and thrusted your hips up against the hard member that was just behind his pants.

You mewled, begging him to release himself from his pants, your leg wrapping around him again and licked along his jaw.

“Fuck… you want it bad, don’t you?” He asked low in your ear. You nodded, biting your lower lip and looking up at him through your lashes. He sighed then roughly grabbed your jaw in his one hand, squeezing your cheeks until your mouth became a small pout.

“Say it. Say you want me to fuck you.” He ordered, slowly unbuttoning his pants as he held eye contact with your pathetic face.

“I want you to fuck me Sasuke! Please fuck me! I need you so bad, needed you ever since I got to have you yesterday.” You pleaded. He smirked, letting his pants and boxers fall to his ankles before stepping out of them. He retracted his hand from your face and began to stroke at his cock.

“Good girl.” He praised, ramming his cock into you roughly, bottoming out before you could warm up to his size.

You let out a loud moan, legs wrapping around him tightly, the heel of your foot digging into his ass cheek, pushing his hips further into you. You clenched down tightly on his shaft, almost choking on your own spit as you whimpered underneath him. Sasuke grunted, grinding into your walls as his public bone chafed against your clit. You cupped his cheeks and pulled him in for a deep kiss, desperate for more of him. He quickly kissed you back, his mouth opening and demanding your tongue inside his mouth again.

He retracted his cock before slamming it back inside of you, too impatient to let you adjust to his size. You didn’t care, the pleasure mixed the pain that came with burning stretch of his girthy member, parting you from the inside and brushing up against your g spot had you begging for more. The feeling of his cock jack hammering inside you had you moaning so loud and so often you couldn’t kiss him back, throwing your head back in ecstasy to moan freely in your kitchen.

Sasuke couldn’t let you tear away any kisses from him and as he pounded away inside of you, rearranging your wet cunt, he tried kissing you again- landing on the corner of your mouth before licking your cheek sloppily. You ran your nails up his back, leaving behind long, thin red line along his muscular back. He grunted loud and painfully, ducking his head down to harshly bite down on your shoulder. You whimpered, clenching down on him and holding his head at your neck.

“Fucking whore…” He grunted, kissing your clavicle.

“M-Me? Y-You’re the one w-who came to my house f-for sex…” you managed to get out. Sasuke slapped the side of your ass and you let out another yelp, clenching around him yet again and dripping down your thighs.

“Don’t talk back to me.” He snapped, grabbing your face harshly, squishing your cheeks again to keep you silent. You whimpered loudly as his pace became even more unapologetically rough, loud squelching filling the room along with a sigh from him with each snap of his hips.

A tear rolled down both your cheek and your leg, Sasukes manhandling become too much for you to bear.

“If you’re not pregnant already you will be by the time i’m done with you.” He huffed, his muscular chest heaving up and down with each heavy breath he took. Your eyes widened, pussy getting even wetter at his words. Sasuke smirked, eyes narrowing.

“You want that? You want me to fuck a baby into you? Ngh- as if I haven’t already…” Your eyes rolled back, nodding your head vigorously as your orgasm quickly approached.

“Say it then. Beg me to get you pregnant, beg me to let you carry my child.” He grabbed one of your bouncing tits and spat on your nipple, rolling it between his fingers.

“P-Please Sasuke… Please let me carry your child… please cum inside me again…” You cried, legs shaking around the man’s waist.

“So fucking wet…” Sasuke moaned, his pace becoming sloppier and more desperate. He kissed you roughly and soon enough your insides were twisting in the most euphoric way possible, your toes curling as your core tightened and legs shook violently against him.

“Mph- Saaa…Sas- Mmm- Sasuke…” You moaned between kisses, your wet pussy squirting on his chiseled abs, your tight walls clamping down on his girth and strangling him for his cum. He moaned against your own moaning lips, shooting his seed deep inside your silky walls, painting you white from the inside.

You two breathed against eachother, still heavy in climax, your mind racing as you cursed yourself for letting him cum inside you again. Maybe if you’re lucky you could still take the morning after pill??

Sasuke stood up, slowly pulling out of your soaked walls.

“haah… aaahhhh…” he lightly moaned, fully retracting as he watching his hot cum pour out of you, too tired to finger fuck it back inside you.

“W-We’re so fucked…” you sighed, legs still twitching. Sasuke let out a loud sigh, bending down to slip back into his pants, pulling them up.

“I know.” He ran his hand through his hair, looking at you as you lay helpless on the table. “Listen, we’ll think of something together, okay?”

“I really hate you,” you murmured, feeling his hand run up and down your thigh reassuringly.

“I know.”

AN: please under no circumstances think i am anti sakura or a sakura hate account 😭😭 this is just a fic and more importantly it is an AU. that is all, enjoy <3

Tag List: @just-your-sensei

#smut #naruto #naruto fic #naruto smut #sasuke uchiha #sasuke uchiha x you #sasuke x reader #sasuke uchiha smut #sasuke x you #sasuke x reader smut #sasuke smut #sasuke uchiha x reader #sasuke fic #naruto au

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murdrdocs · 1 year

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rocketeer | a. warlock

description. a peek into your budding relationship with adam warlock, soundtracked by the music that follows you through your life

includes. straight fluff that's it, some references to tunes

a/n: playing around with adam as a character .. reader implied to be from earth, also this was a blurb but its long enough to be a mini fic so ,,, that's what it is now. also title is a reference to rocket tehe

word count: 1.2k+

mild gotg3 spoilers!!!

you meet him when rocket's 2000s playlist is playing.

there a general joy spread all across knowhere, each and every being there filled with the adrenaline of the guardians surviving, and saving others along the way, once again. everyone's doing something; dancing, crying, rejoicing, picking up pieces. everyone except him.

he sits on a set of stairs that you know has been coated with bile too many times. he's alone, wrapped in an insulated blanket, and staring at everyone with a sense of longing. your rhythmic steps falter, as does your smile, and your head tilts.

your friend asks what's wrong, you point him out, and his mind is lightyears away because he doesn't notice the obvious gawking from three sets (the extra set your friend has will always be a little off putting for you) of curious eyes. he doesn't notice anything until you're standing above him.

"hi," your wave is just a flare of your hand, small, gentle, as is your smile. his eyes snap up to look at you, wide and yellow and intriguing. it takes him a second but he speaks, although it's quiet and a little hard to hear over florence and the machine.

"salutations."

the formality of it makes your smile widen. "d'you mind if i sit?" you point to the empty space next to him, his gaze following your gesture, and then he's looking back at you with furrowed eyebrows.

"why?"

you shrug, suddenly feeling a little silly, but you suck the feeling down with a large gulp of air. "just cause you seemed a little lonely. loneliness isn't really a thing here on knowhere."

his yellow eyes seem to light up at that. "really?"

not exactly, but you still nod. "really."

he scoots over a smidge to make room for you, even though there's more than enough, and you sit beside him, choosing to ignore the lingering stench of alcohol-induced barf. it's silent for a second, dog days are over ends and seven nation army begins, and then he speaks again.

"i'm adam."

you introduce yourself, starting to notice the way his foot taps along to the bass line. you nod towards the small movement. "you like this sort of music?"

when he shrugs, you can feel the blanket move against your arm and you hadn't realized you two were sitting that close beforehand.

"i don't really know much about music."

"yeah, that'll change here on knowhere, too."

you get closer while rocket is in a 90s kick. there's destiny's child, red hot chili peppers, loads of nirvana, and blur to soundtrack the timidity in the beginning. small "hello"s shared in passing, glances that turn into staring whenever the other isn't looking. talks about meaningless things that are happening on knowhere, just as an excuse to talk to each other at all.

your relationship (lack thereof) with adam feels reminiscent on those movies you would watch back home, telling stories of a boy next door and a girl next door and a painfully slow romance filled with moments that you used to wish would just lead into the big thing.

before he leaves, quill gives you a final word of advice. "stop dancing around it. go for it."

you follow his eye line to adam, who's holding a very confusing looking conversation with one of the kids, and then you look at quill, who's staring down at you like an older, slightly wiser, brother.

"okay?"

"yeah. okay."

he opens up when his favorites are playing. you're teasing him, asking if he finally has artists, genres, songs, anything that he likes. he smiles brightly, like he's been waiting to share this information, and nods eagerly.

"let me show you." the ipod he'd acquired is thrust into your hands and then one end of the flimsy earphones after it. you slip the bud in, listening to the clicks of adam searching for what he wants to show you, and the it starts.

you vaguely recognize it as something that quill passed down to rocket, who tried to pass it down to you, but you don't know it well enough to predict the lyrics before they happen.

the other headphone is placed in one of adam's ears, and he hums to the song. you feel his gaze on yours, waiting for your reaction, and you look to him and smile.

"yeah?" he asks, clearly wanting to know what you thought about it.

"yeah. it's good!"

"right!" and he continues to hum along to the song, clearly wanting to sing it at the top of his lungs and dance around to the beat. the image of what that would look like, of how he would ask you to join in, takes over your mind and adam's voice breaks you from your thought.

"i have just one question though."

"hm?"

"what's disney world?"

and now it's time for your eyes to widen and for you to gasp. you launch into descriptions of 'the happiest place on earth', having to will yourself from telling the entire backstory of the creator and the mystery that exists from his extremely known life. adam seems confused, interested, and like he longs for something like that.

"d'you think we could visit disney world one day?" the odds aren't the best, but you shrug, nod, let the corner of your mouth turn down just a little.

"yeah, maybe."

another solo song by adrian belew starts and then adam tells you about his home, and the sovereign, and his mother. you listen, lowering the volume so you can hear him clearly, and you're there for when tears start to glide down his face.

things change whenever 80s pop is playing.

kraglin had taken over rocket's ipod for the day, resulting in almost every hit from the 80s to play during the entire day.

you'd sung along to most songs, wishing you'd seen adam to tell him about each artist that played. but he'd been gone, not seen by anyone, and you assumed that he'd gone on a mission or something of the sort.

it's late, you're snuggled in bed, the music outside has come to an end but you have your own headphones in to continue listening. wham! plays when there's a knock on your door and you pull down the headphones, lowering george's singing, to open it.

adam stands on the other side, dressed as casual as you've seen him, and his hair sticking up in different places as if he's been messing with it for a while. he looks distressed, and distracted, until you say his name.

"adam? what's wrong?"

and then his large hands are delicately holding your cheeks and his lips are pressed to yours. he freezes with the initial contact, most likely due to a mix of inexperience and shock, but then you start to slowly move your lips against his and he takes the hint to follow your lead. your hands pull at his shirt, urging him to come into your room, and he does as told, kicking the door closed behind him with his foot, giving you a surface that doesn't imply too much to push your back against.

that night, the entire first two albums from wham! play from your headphones while adam kisses you, leaving you to giddily listen to last christmas when you bid him goodbye, his lips a little swollen and a darker hue to his golden cheeks.

#repost bc tumblr no work #adam warlock x reader #adam warlock x you #adam warlock fluff #adam warlock #guardians of the galaxy #guardians of the galaxy x reader #celeste writes mcu

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imagine--if · 6 months

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hey! i hope your doing well, i would love to see anything fluffy for mike (headcanons, blurbs, whatever you feel like suits it most!) - he deserves the whole world and sm more to me 😭

A/N: I get youuuu, hope you enjoy 😁 started off with the relationship hcs but let me know if you wanna see anything more specific!!

Warnings: FNAF movie spoilers, mentions of violence

⋆✮ Dating Mike Schmidt Includes: ✮⋆

➳ Mike's been through a hell of a lot ever since his little brother got kidnapped, so I'm seeing major protectiveness and sometimes even clinginess involved from him when you end up dating because 😭 guy's been through stuff and he's not letting anyone else he's close to get hurt

➳ To be honest, at first he's pretty closed-off with people, vulnerable with a tough exterior, so if you meet him in some scenario where you're tied up with the Freddy's murders and job, he'll try to be distant and professional and all... ending up failing 🙃

➳ Eventually you start. talking more about personal things, hobbies your lives, and he'll mention his sister Abby and having to take the job because he needs the money and is in the middle of the custody situation with his sister. He's got a lot going on and the trauma of what happened all those years ago still wringing at his guilt, so being able to talk with someone who doesn't judge in a relaxed place is a nice change for him having to be on guard all the time.

➳ When Mike befriends you, which is what happens first, he's got your back. If you need someone to vent to or hang out with or whatever, he'll do whatever he can to help, and when it comes to you being in a sticky situation or someone trying to hurt you or play you, he always seems to realise and is in no way afraid of confrontation to get them to back off.

➳ Like if William tries sizing you up a bit... and Mike gets annoyed with that cool, defensive glare as he asks if he needs anything (I've got to make an imagine of this nowwww). I think Mike would only realise that he's actually jealous if you teased about it, or if he really loses his temper with someone that's not leaving you alone or something. Then it really nags at him and makes him think about actually liking you as more than a friend, and then that initial reluctance because everyone he gets close to seems to have something bad happen to them, like it's a curse. At the end of the day, he just wants you to be safe.

➳ It would take something big for Mike to confess to you, unless you take the first step (aka Abby begging you to tell him you like him too because she's getting bored of him not concentrating on what she's talking to him about or the conversation somehow curving to you and the stuff you're into). Maybe you're attacked at Freddy's and you're all in on the crisis together when Mike stands firmly in front of you when William reveals himself, or he shoves you out the way so you won't get hurt, ultimately jumping in front of the threat without a worry of him getting hit instead. It's then that he realises how much he needs you in his life, how he needs you alive because you add some joy to it that he hasn't felt in all these years, a change from the darkness that his head's stuck in.

➳ It all comes out of him in a rush as he looks you up and down with wild eyes and a firm grip, asking if you're alright and saying in a rush that "you're one of the most important people in the world to me, and I don't know what I'd do if you got hurt... I- I couldn't live with myself, okay?!"

➳ Okayyy Mike, just kiss them 😏

➳ After you fight Afton together and get Vanessa looked after, you can finally breathe and properly start dating, which includes that familiar protectiveness and slight clinginess... and also being best friends with his little sister, which you 100% would be. You'd spend time drawing or chatting or playing random games while Mike was out working, eliminating the need for a babysitter because you're the perfect fit and get along with her great. And when he is home, you do a lot of stuff together, like a mini family, and there's finally that security and stability in that life she needed.

➳ I feel like Abby would find it hilarious to tell you all the sappy things Mike says about you on the rare occasions where you're not around, ending in Mike's cheeks flushing beet red and him picking her up and whirling her around playfully until she's in fits of laughter. "I heard Mike say that he found another reason to keep going when he realised he was in love wi- hey!!"

➳ Mike would be a bit clingy, again because of what happened with Garret; Mike being distracted for one moment and then blaming himself for the rest of his life because it was that moment where his brother was taken and killed. So if you are out, on a date or just around, this guy will not leave your side. He's the kind of person to text you again and again if you don't respond to the first message, and it's kind of cute how much he worries, but then he doesn't need to, and every now and then he'll need your reassurance that you guys are safe and that you won't leave him, which stills ends with him burying his face in your neck for a long tight hug for a while.

➳ MIKE'S A BIG HUGGER. CHANGE MY MIND.

➳ Whether you're watching a movie with him and Abby, or you're out on a date or sleeping or whatever, Mike will always have some contact with you if you've told him you're okay with it: fingers linked under the table, pressed into his side while you're watching TV (with an affectionate forehead kiss every five minutes 🥺) or being half crushed to death while you're trying to sleep when he rolls onto you and traps you under his leg... good luck if you need to go to the bathroom. Chances are he'll end up trailing after you with mumbled protests.

➳ That protectiveness always kicks in when someone looks at you for too long, or in a way that he doesn't like the look of, or if you're obviously uncomfortable with. If you're quick, you can just convince him to walk away and you two go somewhere else, because Mike will end up getting annoyed and giving the guy a line to get him to make them go away. If he's not careful, he might end up getting in a fight again, but he'll really try not to when you tell him off for it and promise him that things are okay and you're not going anywhere.

➳ You and Abby are basically Mike's world, after all that's happened, there are only really two people left that he truly cares for and would do anything for. Once you're in a relationship with him, he'll do everything he can to make sure you're safe and won't have to go through anything he had to. If ever you're upset, he'll listen for hours with no judgement and major support, whatever mood you're in somehow rubbing off on him. Mike will admit his feelings in a rush, and when he does, he's not afraid to tell you that he loves you whenever you need to hear it, or whenever he wants to say it and wants you to be reminded. It's something that you can never doubt.

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nyashykyunnie · 2 months

Text

˗ˏˋ Sung Jinwoo x Terminally ill Reader ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

‼️[ TW: Terminal Illness, Angst to Fluff, Solo Leveling Spoilers ]

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅ Part 2 || Part 1 ♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

╰┈➤ ❝ [ We'll Try This Again, Begin Again with Zero. But This Time? I'm Never Letting You Go. ] ¡! ❞

Living felt more like a punishment more than anything. The pain he goes through starts feeling more and more deserving in his eyes. He was pushing himself to the limits when he shouldn't, he's punishing himself over a sin that wasn't really his fault.

But if anyone tells him that, he wouldn't look back at them. He would ignore their concerns.

He has a duty to uphold anyway, a duty that only he can do as a monarch.

Jinwoo has ultimately grown to be a vessel of war thanks to the system.

He didn't really care much, he already placed insurance to his name if anything happens to him.

When he's gone, his remaining family would atleast live off of something.

He has already watched his father die too thanks to the godforsaken monarchs.

What more can he loose?

Over and over again, he puts himself in the battlefield, exhausting himself on purpose, never even sleeping nor eating.

He was just fighting like a dog.

Well, dog's get much more care than what he does to himself, so does it really count?

It doesn't matte,r Jinwoo physically cannot be exhausted.

But mentally? It's a different story.

He wasn't really depressed, at least, that's what he tells himself.

He really felt numb, not exactly sad, not exactly happy either. It's as if his emotions lie in the middle.

Jinwoo felt hollow, completely hollow.

As if he were merely nothing more than a puppet in war.

The only thing that really urges him to move forward is the distant sound of his beloved's voice in the back of his head.

And soon, after he had finally murdered the Monarch of Destruction— He would be granted a wish.

Battered and tired while on the floor, he thought of what he could possibly ask from the rulers.

Thought of?

No, Jinwoo already knew what he wanted.

It was to turn back time.

To meet old friends again, to stop the gates from opening, to have his family whole again

,... To meet you again.

Yes. That's right. All of this was for you anyway.

Jinwoo recalls that memory very clearly, how you were still in the hospital bed and you two were playing a game of cards while he tells you about how he plans to be a hunter soon.

Your words were quite cute really: "I hope Woowoo becomes a really strong man!"

Those silly, innocent words of yours.

Up to this day, he still smiles lovingly whenever he remembers that.

He became this strong not just for himself and his family who needs him, but for you, the brave little soul who endured that illness—

Jinwoo fought for you

And since he is given the opportunity to correct the past, he requiested for time to be rewinded.

Right then and there, a brilliant flash of white would engulf the earth, bathing it in all it's glory. eradicating all traces of the lifeforms and shadows there is to this pathetic universe. For once in a million years, the earth was beautiful again. It looked like a star gleaming along with countless others.

Soon, Jinwoo would wake up to the sound of his baby sister's calling. Jinwoo would sit up, gently smiling at her.

It took a while for everything to sink in, for everything for him to realize that this? All of this was reality.

How badly he wanted to find you in the time he spent, for just a few weeks, he enjoyed being a child again.

Laughing with friends, screaming at others for a vanguard or healer in the pc cafe— He wanted to find you in an instant. But not right now.

He took care of some stuff first.

Your illness wont awaken until then after all.

27 years, he spent time in that goddamn dimensional crack fighting monarchs and all that crap.

When he was done, he finally came home.

Just as he set foot back in earth again, he went straight to the hospital.

April 9th of spring, where the pink petals bloomed and flew around the air— This beautiful but tragic day.

Was the first time you had collapsed and coughed out blood.

It started with your lungs, to your kidneys, to your heart, to everywhere.

You had metastatic cancer.

Coughing up blood was only the start.

And Jinwoo had come home just in time.

He didn't even ask for directions, he just went straight to your hospital room.

He knew this godforsaken place better than the doctors and nurses himself after all.

As he pried open the door, there you were, resting on the bed staring absentmindedly at the pink trees outside your window. When yopu heard the sound of the door, you turned your attention to Jinwoo.

Dazzling and innocent eyes, just as he remembers. Your youthful face, free of any sign of wrinkles. Still chubby and plump that he wanted to just kiss your cheeks all over.

As you called out his name, Jinwoo marched over and embraced you tightly.

"I'm sorry, it took me a while" Jinwoo whispers ever so lovingly as he rubs the b ack of your head affectionately.

You were confused at first, wondering why your best friend is acting all cuddly and sappy when he totally did not disappear off of the face of the earth and come out of nowhere like some sort of boogey man. But regardless, you can't help but notice the traces of tears about to break from lovely grey eyes.

When you reached over to touch his face, his voice broke and he started crying almost instantly.

Panicked and confused, you pulled him to a tight hug.

Jinwoo was crying, and in his tears and broken voice you could hear the amount of anguish he had been bottling up, the brokenness in his heart finally being revealed in the open for you to hear and see. It felt as if Jinwoo was carrying a hundred years worth of burden. And you could do nothing more than to soothe him.

"I'm sorry... Ditching you out of nowhere and acting like a sappy pup wo got kicked" He chokes as he chuckles gently, "I promise, promise, that I won't leave you like that anymore. Just trust me, okay? Here, drink this."

He hands you a weird fantasy-potion thing with red liquid inside. You wanted to deny him of it but Jinwoo stubbornly insisted upon it, as if your life depended on it.

Well, tehnically speaking, it did depended on that potion.

After making sure you gulped down every single drop of the crimson liquid, Jinwoo pressed his forehead against yours.

Mumbling ever so sweetly; "Let's do this again, okay? You and me, goofing around. I'll let you eat as much sweets as you like, I'll show a lot of pretty things. Don't worry about anything else, Woowoo will take care of it."

Somehow, you felt that Jinwoo meant that on a deeper level. You felt like right now, what in front of you wasn't just anyone else, but someone ready to lay down their life for your sake. The person in front of you, you felt as if he was going to follow you to the ends of the earth to the stars above your heads. Somehow, it feels as if his words was a promise that he would follow you wherever you go.

He already lost you once, damned will he be if that happens again.

#∞ ₒ ˚ ° 📎— kyunnya speaks #sung jinwoo #solo leveling #sung jin woo #only i level up #solo leveling headcanons #sung jinwoo x reader #sung jinwoo headcanons #ore dake level up na ken #solo leveling x reader

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mimi-cee-genshin · 5 months

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Old words unspoken ‘til now: Neuvillette; heartwarming, spoilers from his story quest, 0.7k

Imagine you were a history and literature enthusiast in the world of Teyvat. You collected books -old books- and you tremendously enjoyed the archaic language written between the dusty covers. The terms used, the odd sentence structure as well as the punctuation were all hindrances to the common person. With phrases slightly off-putting to the contemporary palate, one could hardly persevere through a single page.

Yet you, on the other hand, would read these books aloud with flair and drama, causing strangers to raise a brow and your closest friends to share a knowing smirk. As you walked along by Palais Mermonia, quick on your feet to run a commission, you heard a word you'd only read in the book located on the third shelf away from your fireplace.

The word? An insult. The equivalent of calling a person a buffoon.

Of course the one receiving the insult was oblivious to the fact that he was indeed insulted, as if it never occurred to him that it could be anything but a compliment. But as you listened to him wail and complain about how a certain Melusine failed to meet his petty expectations, you understood the drama that had reached your attentive ears.

The great Monsieur Neuvillette was understandably upset.

You had never forgotten the spectacle. You tucked it into a corner of your memory, next to the lines of an obscure but cherished theatre script written centuries ago. The single word brought you back to a different world that separated you not by space but by time. Old Fontaine, with all its flaws, also contained stories of bravery and love in its pages.

Then when you happened on a rare chance to greet Monsieur Neuvillette himself in person, you seized the opportunity for an experiment. A harmless one of course.

You quoted a line from your favorite play.

It was a typical form of greeting when directed to a respectful gentleman such as him. But the archaic saying revealed a brief shock in Neuvillette's eyes, just as he received the completed commission from you. He continued on with business as usual, not thinking much of your words. Yet when another sentence flowed out of your mouth, he could no longer ignore his heart. His smile could hardly be contained at hearing the equivalent of his mother tongue, the mode of words when he first lived among humans. Your intonations brought him back to his early days with Vautrin and Carole, of small gatherings and outings with those he cherished. A warm soupy aroma had wafted from the kitchen of Vautrin's mother and young children had giggled with the handful of Melusines he first brought over.

And without knowing, Neuvillette replied you. He replied in that old Teyvat language, with idioms and speech patterns he scarcely spoke ‘til now.

Your eyes grew wide, and then were replaced by an even wider grin. With glee, you spoke to him the language you only read from books, almost a little bashful from the excitement in your own voice.

He asked where you learned to speak that way and you spilled out your vast knowledge of centuries old literature, those cherished tales of characters you loved. In turn, he gave you insights into the settings and culture at the time for each of the stories you shared. And mid conversation, you couldn't help but feel the urge to write them all down.

As the people walked by you outside the Palais Mermonia, you continued to speak in a way that was unknown to the expanse of the current human world. It was awkward at first for Neuvillette, not having conversed this way in so long. But the more he spoke, the more natural it felt, and the words and phrases on his tongue made themselves home in him once again. The place in his heart that was long forgotten was brought to the surface for him to enjoy once again. It was a marvel to behold how a mere few phrases had uncovered this abandoned treasure.

So when the day was done, and the hours had passed from the moment you'd shared your good-byes, Neuvillette once again reflected on his former years. They were painful memories, but there was great joy in them as well. And you had just gifted him with a warm experience he couldn't have foreseen. An encounter that led out a forgotten part of his being.

A place he called home.

Thanks for reading! This was pretty different from my usual writing style and format, but I hope you enjoyed it.

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akirakirxaa · 9 months

Text

Persephone was taking a stroll past the carpenter shop, intending to head to the spa near the railroad to relax for a while and ease her muscles, sore from taking out her frustrations on farmwork, when a strange creature appeared from behind a tree.

No problem, Persephone thought, backing away from the strange bluish creature. Malice flowed from it in waves; it had no facial features she could discern, so she wasn't sure how she knew, but she did.

"I'm fine," she smoothed her hands along her skirt, trying to hide their shaking. She glanced up at him, taking a moment before deciding that, despite looking quite different, he still seemed to be in control of himself, and so it wasn't anything to worry about. She approached the swirling purple vortex left in the defeated creature's wake, looking but keeping a healthy few feet between her and it.

"What was that?" she asked.

Persephone jumped back a step or two when she heard a voice coming from it, not entirely sure what to expect. After a moment, the torso of a man with lavender hair appeared as if leaning from a window.

Persephone felt anxiety rising in her. Clearly Emet-Selch's former lover was kind and witty and so much better than she was, and maybe he didn't approve of her...

"L-likewise," she stammered, brain running a bit behind as she processed what he was saying. Was he saying that he wanted her to-

"Alright," she turned to go, then stopped. "Are you okay?" He only gave one slight nod, eyes locked on where the small portal had been. Taking that as her queue to go, she returned home.

She would check on him again later.

#ffxiv #stardew valley #emet-selch #emet-selch mod #oc: persephone 'azem'#hythades #spoilers for those playing along at home #hyth ;_;#also look at that transformed!hades sprite it's soooo good #it does make me wonder how the transformed appearance option in the mod works lol he wouldn't exactly fit through doors if it's full size #stardew fantasy #ship: distant skies

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neteyamsyawntu · 4 months

Text

Kinkmas Day 10

B r e a t h P l a y

So’lek x Na’vi!Reader

Warnings: 🔞MINORS DNI🔞, breath play (duh), slight grinding, slight dub con, mentions of alcoholic intoxication

‼️Potential spoilers for Avatar:Frontiers of Pandora‼️

Cheers and music sounded throughout the Aranahe hometree, another RDA facility had been destroyed. It had been some time now since the Aranahe had joined the resistance in the fight for Pandora. While celebrations of every battle weren’t common, the Aranahe, mainly Nefika, had invited some of the members of the resistance to “lift spirits” after such a challenging battle. While you and the rest of your Sarentu companions were more than eager to partake in the festivities, So’lek was hesitant, feeling it wasn’t time for a celebration when the fight was far from over.

Still when you gave him those wide and excited eyes of yours, his heart couldn’t help, but soften leading him to begrudgingly follow along, now leaning against the bark of hometree watching from a distance as a mix of both resistance and Aranahe members circled around Eetu on the ikran landing as he told fierce and enticing stories, most being of his accomplishments and time with his ikran, Zomey.

A soft chuckle leaves you, overhearing part of Eetu’s tale as you climb the path to the ikran outpost with a bottle of some strange yet sweet smelling elixir in your hand. Your eyes immediately find So’lek as you reach the platform, his arms crossed over his chest and a stern look painted his features. Your smile didn’t waver as you approached him, admiring the celebration yourself. Upon a closer inspection you could tell So’lek’s eyes were hopping from Teylan, Nor, and Ri’nela with a protective look hidden beneath his gaze.

“Enjoying yourself?” You muse, settling yourself beside him. A small hint of a smile rises to So’lek’s lips, his ears perking to the sound of your voice, giving you a gentle side glance before returning his eyes to the group before him, “The celebration brings a small comfort, it reminds me vaguely of ones my own clan would host similar to this. Still I cannot help, but feel on edge; this celebration is putting us in a vulnerable position.” So’lek huffs, shifting his weight from side to side anxiously. You nod your head softly as he speaks, his low rumbling voice, sends a shiver down your spine as you try to stay focused on his words.

“I don’t think we have anything to worry about, the RDA wouldn’t attack when we have a home field advantage.” You say simply, looking in his direction with a confident gaze on your eyes. So’lek returns your gaze, seeing straight through your confident statement to the innocence in your voice as he lets out a small chuckle and a shake of his head, “We may have driven Mercer out, but there are still RDA on Pandora… it is risky, especially considering what happened the last time we celebrated prematurely. The sky people hold no honor or boundaries. They will do what it takes to win.”, “And so will we.” You retort, holding out the bottle to him with a smile, “But for now, we should enjoy ourselves. Go on, drink. I promise I don’t have cooties.”, “Coo-tees?” So’lek repeats with a confused expression, pinching his brows together.

“Just drink!” You can’t help, but giggle watching him struggle with the English term, pushing the bottle into his hand. His eyes drift from you to the bottle, scanning it a little hesitantly before bringing the tip to his lips, giving it an experimental sniff before titling his head back to allow its contents to flow into his mouth. A warm sensation immediately spreads through his chest as he swallows along with a harsh sting in the back of his throat, that prompts him to let out a few coughs.

Your childish giggles fill his ears again as you watch him down the potent liquor, “It’s good isn’t it? Nefika said it would help you loosen up.”. So’lek gives you a slight scoff with a roll of his eyes, as he lifts the bottle once more, “I do not need to loosen up.” He emphasizes the words before taking another swig from the bottle. The light blush that dances on your cheeks now becomes obvious to So’lek, assuming you’ve probably been attempting to “loosen up” yourself.

“You are drunk.” He accuses blatantly, making your overly cheerful expression drop to a forced frown, “I am not.” You say while lowering your tone to mimic his own voice. His eyes widen and ears perk looking a little unsettled before a small chuckle breaks from him, evident that he’s still holding back any true emotions. Damn he’s a tough nut to crack, you think to yourself. Yet throughout the night the two of you take turns passing the bottle to each other before its contents settle happily on the depths of your bellies. You notice even with the influence of the alcohol, So’lek’s mood shifted from almost inaudible chuckles to himself to almost unconscious silence as he sat in his own thoughts as your bodies inches closer together with each passing swig of alcohol.

Before you know it, you can smell the booze on his breath as it hits your face as you find yourself absentmindedly staring up at him in your intoxicating state. “It is rude to stare.” So’lek grumbles a little cheekily, yet he had been mapping out your features with his own eyes just seconds before, “Then tell me what is on your mind. You’ve gone quiet.”. A low hum leaves So’lek’s throat as he sighs heavily, blinking rapidly for a moment, breaking eyes contact with you as he shifts his position, the internal confliction he was having with himself showing through the seams, “I will not… these thoughts are.. confusing. I am not entirely used to having them yet.”. His response makes you cock your head to the side, shifting your own position to lean your shoulder against the bark of hometree to face him directly, arms crossing over your chest, “Try me…” you reply with the utmost confidence.

Another low hum, this time louder leaves So’lek, making your ears twitch at the sound. So’lek too mimics your position, his eyes wandering your form once again, not daring to make eye contact with you for one reason or another. His hand twitches as he lifts it slightly, a sign of hesitance before leaning into the action of moving it to your thigh, allowing his knuckles to brush the soft skin, his eyes attached to his movements as he gently moves his fingers down the length of it, “These thoughts… they are like a parasite in my mind.” He says softly, the familiar gravelly tone in his voice makes you shiver, his eyes still trailing his hand as it moves back up, now moving in a gentle caressing pattern, “They start innocent… and then fester into something more…” he pauses briefly as his gaze finally lifts to yours, now taking in your fully awed expression, “-problematic.”

His gaze is intense, leaving you feeling incredibly vulnerable under it, like he could see straight through you. The way your thighs slowly pressed together when his touch starts to provoke less innocent reactions from your body. A certain ache that seemed to occur more frequently when you were near him. “Problematic?” You echo in the form of a question, yet your words are quiet, soft spoken. Your ears flattening against your head as So’lek moves in closer, his cheek ever so slightly brushing against yours, his breath hot on your ear, lips just barely inches away from it, “I have watched you grow into a strong warrior from the time I helped you escape from the TAP facility. I hold great respect for you.” You stiffen as So’lek turns his head, nuzzling gently against your cheek, taking subtle inhales of your scent and you can practically feel his body tremble slightly in response, “Yet these thoughts… these- desires are not as respectful as I would like to admit.”.

You feel your breath straining to exit your air way as you gasp at the intent of his words, what So’lek was truly trying to convey to you with both his tone and actions, gently running the tip of his nose along your cheekbone. Adrenaline began to course through your veins, your heart hammering against your rib cage as your body starts to move on its own, your hands drifting up his arms until your parks are pressed against the cool metal of his chest plate, fingers carefully looping around the necklace of sky people dog tags, “And… what if I don’t mind them? Those thoughts.” You ask a little bit more confidently than you thought you were capable of in this moment. A rough sighed out growl vibrates on your skin as So’lek shifts his hand from your thigh to your hip, guiding your back against the tree, while his other rests beside your head, pinning you between the bark of hometree and himself, “You should mind them.” He grumbles into your ear, his fingertips pressing indents into the skin of your hip, his tail lashing behind him as if he was attempting to intimidate you.

“I don’t….” You say simply, watching him with half lidded eyes. He was so close, and if it weren’t for your intoxicated state, you would have sensed that a few of the party goers had noticed the surprising series of events that the two of you were enacting in such an out of character display. Another growl vibrates in So’lek’s chest as he lowers his face to the side of your neck, this tip of his nose drawing a line from your jaw to your jugular, his heavy breaths batting against your skin sends shivers down your spine. “So’lek?” You whisper only to be caught off guard when his hand slips from your hip to your lower back, bringing your hips to meet his as his tongue finally reveals itself from behind his lips, licking an agonizingly slow stripe up your neck.

A trembling gasp escapes you, your grasp on his dog tags instinctively tightening as your body submits itself to his advances, slightly leaning your head to the side in order to provide him with better access to your neck. This seems to please him, as So’lek lets out a low grunt, pressing his hips more assertively. Your brain became fuzzy, your senses overstimulated since your inebriated brain could only focus on So’lek and his touch and how it was making your body hotter and hotter, even still the growing patch of slick in your loincloth was becoming more prominent by the second. It became such a dangerous yet enticing dance, So’lek’s lips working to leave dark marks all along your neck, his hot breath fanning against the wet areas of sensitive skin causing you to shiver, while your hands began to aimlessly roam any part of his body you could reach, feeling him and pressing him impossibly closer to you. It was perfect… well almost perfect, if you weren’t completely out in the open, garnering more and more glances your way.

This thought finally enters your brain in a moment of consciousness as you attempt to push So’lek back to detach him from your neck, “So’lek… So’lek.” You call to him in a slurring of words, practically tripping over your own tongue, palms now pressed to his chest plate in attempt to move him, yet he doesn’t budge. An assertive growl his breathed against your neck before he continues painting what has become an abstract piece on your neck, his grip on your tightening in retaliation. “S-So’lek we should move.. get out of the open. Perhaps somewhere a bit more quiet.” You try to rationalize with him, yet from the rough bite of his canines you had a feeling it wouldn’t be so easy… that is until a streak of yellow passes through your peripheral.

“Yes, yes as much as I am glad to see you have enjoyed the party as well as the drinks, your allies do not need to watch you mate before all the clans, child- may Eywa be your only witness.” Nefika chides humorously, which- although rather begrudgingly pulls So’lek from his escapade of your neck, grasping your hand with a simple “Come.” Before guiding you away from the festivities.

Tag list: @itchaboi-itchyboy @pandoraslxna @oakbuggy @plooto @xylianasblog @etherial-moon-blog @hikari-michiko @neteyamssyulang @blue-slxt @c-townes @loaksxhoe @xstarsdiary @neteyamswillow @akoyaxs @neteyxmsgirl @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @zafrinaxyz @neteyams-wh0re @neteyamyawne @kiri-tuk @beauitful-brown-skin-05 @akoyaxs @neteyamsstuff @puddleswimmingnerd-blog @ntymavtr @luvv4j4ybe11

#avatar12daysofkinkmas #avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar frontiers of pandora #frontiers of pandora #So’lek #so’lek frontiers of pandora #so’lek smut #So’lek x reader #So’lek x na’vi!reader

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gojonanami · 6 months

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FIVE TIMES NANAMI WANTED TO PROPOSE BUT DIDN'T - NANAMI KENTO

✴︎ summary: nanami wanted to propose to you so many times - but it was never the right time, and then, there was no time left. ✴︎ contents: 18+ only, swearing, ANGST (major spoilers for jjk 120 (probably next week's episode, character death, exploration of grief, if you wish to avoid the major angst: stop reading after part 5), SMUT (fingering (f! receiving), oral (f! + m! receiving), panty sniffing, semi public sex, nipple play, creampie, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms), pet names (love, sweetheart), happy ending (sort of?) ✴︎ wc: 10,121 (i have a problem) ✴︎ song: the archer - taylor swift (blame laney for this)

One.

The first time Kento Nanami wanted to propose to you shouldn’t count.

And it won’t because it was when he first met you — enrolled into Jujutsu Tech along with the other first years, he first laid his eyes on you at a welcome party that the soon to be menace to his sanity, Satoru Gojo, had organized. Well, he could thank Gojo for one thing it was introducing you to the room — because he may have had to find the words to ask you himself. And he didn’t know if that was possible with his tongue in knots.

But he managed to talk to you — mostly with Haibara leading the conversation. You were reserved, at first, but he saw the spark in your eyes whenever you spoke about something you were passionate about — reading was one, one thing you both shared a love for.

“Yeah hauling my books to Jujutsu Tech wasn’t an easy feat, I had to ask Geto-senpai to have some of his cursed spirits help me haul it up to my dorm,”

“By the way, you still owe me lunch for that,” Geto smirks as he slips past, and the flush that settles on your cheeks is one Nanami wanted to see — again and again.

“Aren’t the upperclassmen supposed to buy lunch?” You grumble, pouting as Gojo interjected himself, resting himself on your shoulder with his arm, making you jump.

“Not here, here the kouhais earn their keep,” he grins, tilting his glasses down, “can you?”

And Nanami opens his mouth to reply, irritation creeping over his senses, before you brush Gojo off, “I’ll buy you lunch, but next time, if that’s what it’s gonna cost me, I’m going to have you two haul my books by hand up those steps,” You stick out your tongue, before your arms curl around his and Haibara, “let’s have cake,” you smile at both of them, gaze lingering on Nanami, “and we can exchange book recommendations?”

That was the moment he wanted to propose — could see himself living in a home with you, filled with both of your books lining the walls of a personal library, but your living room as well. He could see himself falling asleep beside you as you read to him, your fingers carding through his hair.

But no, no, it was irrational, he chided himself, as he talked to you, his lips curled in a smile that had damned him from the moment he saw it. He just had met you — he had barely been ever moved by another person, much less fallen in love. And it shouldn’t happen this quickly — it only happened this quickly in books — not in real life.

But you — he watched you and Haibara chat and laugh — you were someone that might just be the thing of books.

~~~~

Two.

The second time he wanted to propose, he didn’t care to remember.

And he barely did.

He remembers the facts of the mission. It was supposed to be simple — exorcise a grade 2 curse, simple enough for him and Haibara to handle by themselves. Not that they had a choice. Jujutsu Tech’s resources were already far too spread thin — Gojo himself being sent all over Japan and even overseas to handle things himself that no one should be able to. But their mission? It should have been simple — dangerous still, but simple.

But nothing was simple when it came to curses.

He remembers sensing the curse — the manifestation had frozen him and Haibara for a moment — their bodies taut with fear and adrenaline — but they couldn’t move. Even as the cursed spirit screeched before them, he couldn’t articulate what was happening — it was supposed to be a grade 2, it was supposed to be a grade 2, but no — this was a grade 1.

And then it struck — Kento barely had enough time to react, but he did, pushing Haibara out of the way when it did.

He didn’t remember much after that.

He remembered the squelch of Haibara’s flesh, the blood seeping through his clothes, the way his body crumpled on the ground, and he remembered the next moment was the first time he landed a black flash — stunning the curse enough for him to grab Haibara and escape.

But not enough to save him.

Haibara had made him promise if anything had ever happened to him — he would make sure his sister wasn’t recruited to Jujutsu Tech. And he had to make the call to his family — he couldn’t bear the thought of some higher up taking advantage of their grief to manipulate another into their clutches.

No, he couldn’t let that happen.

And now he sat in the morgue with his body, towel covering his eyes — Geto had come and went — and now he sat waiting for the body to be examined and taken away to be burned. Burned to ash with nothing left — that was the way all sorcerers bodies were disposed of. It was if they never existed in the first place - pawns in a never ending war that would have them piled like corpses on a sacrificial pyre.

What was the point?

Haibara had always told him — if there was something only he could do, he would do it. And for him it was jujutsu — but wasn’t there something else? Something else for him to do that didn’t let him up like this? A body on a metal slab waiting to be incinerated. What was the point?

Was there even a point? People lived and people died. He had lived and Haibara died, but he didn’t know why. Why or how do people live one day and disappear the next? He had seen death before but not of someone so close — someone so precious to him. And the chaos was too much for him. To be killed by another’s twisted feelings manifested into a monster — it was almost poetic if it wasn’t so fucking tragic.

“Nanami?” And he pulls the towel from his eyes, and sees you — your eyes glassy and red tinged — tear streaks you didn’t hide well left on your face, “Nanami—“ and you don’t know what to do with yourself — as you come to him, hesitating, “can I—“

But he’s the one pulling you into his arms, nearly into his lap as his fingers dig into the fabric of your jacket, “I’m sorry — I’m so sorry I wasn’t there—“ your voice breaks, and it’s enough to break him — he hadn’t really cried, not around another person, but tears well at your words, as your fingers card through his hair.

“You have nothing to be sorry for — I’m the one—“ and his voice breaks in turn, as the words stuck in his mind going round and round, until they were nearly had shattered his sanity and skull along with it, “I’m the one who couldn’t save him,”

And you pull back to look at him with tear stained cheeks, “that’s not your fault, Nanami—“

“How is it not?” His words are laced with more venom that he wishes them to be, a little more bite than he wished to chew, and the hurt in your eyes was enough to make him regret speaking altogether, “I’m so—“

“No, it’s not your fault, Kento,” and his eyes find yours, your lips twisted in a frown, and your gaze unwavering, “I know a part of you knows that — knows that…Haibara’s death is nothing but a function of this shitty system we’ve been funneled into. Nothing more. Nothing less. And you know,” your voice grows softer, “you know Haibara wouldn’t want you blaming yourself for this. You know what he’d say?” You almost chuckle, “he’d tell you not to sweat it. To keep going. That you got it, right?”

He gives a terse chuckle in return, shaking his head, as his head tilts into your chest again, “How do we—“

“I don’t know,” you murmur, you don’t need him to say more, “I don’t know how we do this without him, but we have to. We have to for him,” and your hand cups his face, tilting his chin up so he looks up at you, “together?”

And he wants to ask you then — ask you to marry him. He doesn’t know when he would get a chance. You were the only thing that made his life make sense — the only thing that made him feel okay, feel safe, for once. He was so tired of never feeling that way. And he had just lost the one other person who made him feel that way.

He knew you wouldn’t say yes. You couldn’t. You were both so young still, still reeling from Haibara, still stuck in this system that could kill either of you at any time. But still…wasn’t that all the more reason to do it?

But as you pulled him into another tight hug, he knew he wouldn’t last much longer in the Jujutsu world. He couldn’t — he couldn’t take another loss like this. He didn’t know if he could bear it. But as his tears wet your jacket, surrounded by you — your scent, your soft breath, your warm presence — he would try.

He would try for you. And his eyes slid to Haibara’s body covered by a sheet — and for him.

~~~

Three.

“After graduation, I’m leaving,” it was a late night, a couple days before graduation that he told you. The soft pitter-patter of rain was the only thing heard from int the silence before he spoke. You laid on the foot of his bed, reading a book, while he sat cross legged at the head of it, his eyes fixed on you.

Your gaze lifts from your book, brow furrowed in confusion, “Leaving?”

“I can’t be a jujutsu sorcerer,” his words are as plain as always, “I can’t do it. I’m going to go to college and pursue some other line of study—“

And you sit up slowly, putting your book aside, and he expects protests, expects you to convince him otherwise, expects you to try and stop him, but all you ask is one question, “are you sure?”

It catches him by surprise — as you always seemed to. He could anticipate enemy attacks, analyze their next moves five steps ahead, plan three routes of escape, and even predict what garbage will come out of Satoru Gojo’s obscene mouth, but you — you always could surprise him.

“I am,” he finally answers softly, “this society is shit, you know that. And these past few years have shown me that the difference I make isn’t worth the toll it’s taking, especially when I’m not changing anything,”

“Kento, you do make a difference,” your fingers find his, intertwining with ease, such ease he can’t help but think that’s what it was meant for, “you do — even if you can’t see it, I just want you to know, you do. For the people you help, even if you don’t see them, for the other sorcerers you inspire, and for me,”

And he chuckles, “even you?” And you roll your eyes, pouting — the same pout that makes him want to lean over and kiss you until your lips are utterly ruined.

“Even me,” you toss a pillow at him, and he catches it with ease, and you scowl playfully, “y’know i’m gonna miss you, but I’m not gonna miss that,”

“What? My quick reflex—“ and you smack him with another pillow and giggle, the noise making his lips quirk into a smile even as you laughed at him, hands covering your lips.

“What was that, Mr. Ratio? Your quick—“ and he’s tossing a pillow right back smacking you in the face, making his lips curl in a rare grin (though not so rare when he was with you—“

And you pull the pillow off, your face grim, “Oh, it’s so on—“ you’re tossing a pillow, but it’s only a diversion as you lunge for him, assumedly to mess up his hair, but he’s caught you by the wrist, his other hand around your waist as he’s gotten you pinned to the bed.

Time stops.

He’s breathing heavily, and you are too — from the rise and fall of your chest, but he can hardly hear anything over the blood rushing in his ears. Your lips part as you look up at him — you’re dressed in your sleep clothes, a thin tank top and shorts — and it would be so easy to lean down, let his palm slide under his shirt. He sees your eyes flicker down his body the same — climbing back up before pausing at his lips.

It wasn’t a good idea. He was leaving. You both were graduating. Who knows when he would see you again — yet, he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. Not when this is what he wanted for so long, when he wanted you for so long. But maybe he should — maybe it would be easier, he couldn’t ask you to leave Jujutsu Tech. Just as you couldn’t ask him to stay. He knew you would stay to honor Haibara’s memory, to carry on his legacy — the one thing sorcerers could do for their fallen comrades.

Sometimes the only thing.

And sometimes it was the only thing they couldn’t do.

“Kento—“ your voice pulls him from his reverie, as your fingers brush against his cheek, “are you going to hover over me forever, let me go, or…” and your teeth graze your lip, “are you going to kiss me?”

And he’s blinking, cheeks most assuredly flushing, as your fingers graze the back of his neck, and his mouth is dry, as he looks down on you.

But he doesn’t need to asked twice, as he leans even closer, delighting in how your breath catches, looming over him, “do you want me to kiss you?” And the telltale quirk of his lips makes you gape at him, drawing a laugh from him.

“I hate you,” you murmur, as his lips finally brush yours, swallowing those playfully bitter words with them — and your lips are even softer than he imagined, your fingers settling themselves on the back of his neck, brushing the hair that rested there.

And when he pulls away; his heart squeezes at the sight of your kiss ruined lips parted as you pant slightly, eyes fluttering open to look up at him as if to ask why did you stop? And he can’t help but smile.

“It’s too bad because I love you—“ the words slip from his mouth — but he doesn’t regret it. How can he? When he might not get another chance.

And he thinks his heart will stop at your silence again, the pitter-patter of raindrops ringing in his ears again, before your lips finally curl.

“You love me, huh?” You’re leaning up and kissing him, lips finding his again and again — and how is it that he’s already addicted? You taste like honey, and sunshine, and something headier — sending heat warmer than liquor throughout his body that only made him crave more of you, and you finally pull away, and you’re smiling, “good thing I love you too,”

And he can’t believe his ears, he can’t believe you love him too — all these years he thought it was one-sided, that he was deluding himself with all the times your fingers found his, your eyes met across a classroom with a smile, and the times he found himself falling asleep next to you all those nights neither of you wanted to be asleep, your arm curled around his.

But you did. You loved him. And he loved you.

And as your lips met again, he knew, he knew he still couldn’t ask you. Couldn’t ask you because he knew you maybe wouldn’t say no — and he couldn’t ask that of you. Not when it wasn’t what you wanted. Not when he knew you could do the good he couldn’t bring himself to do. And you would — because you were the best person he knows.

He loves you. And therefore he had to let you go.

But — as he lingered over you on his bed, his body hovering over his as he dragged his thumb over your red, puffy lips, before leaning down for another kiss —

He didn’t have to let you go this second.

~~~~

Four.

It’s years before he sees you again.

It wasn’t purposeful. Not exactly anyway.

It was just easier. Easier not to have to think of you still at the place he once was. Still fighting the same curses he would have been fighting with you. Still risking your life day in and day out. While he…he only had money to worry about. To think about. To obsess about.

Money. Money. Money. Money.

How was this somehow shittier than what the jujutsu world? He had considered going into a more humanitarian profession, but when his goal was to retire early, why waste time? If he wanted to help people…he glances at his phone — the one vice he allowed himself, a picture of you that you had sent him when you got promoted to Grade 1 saved as his screensaver — he could have stayed by your side.

No, he wanted to retire. Find himself a nice place to retire to — he hadn’t decided the exact location yet. Somewhere peaceful. With nothing but beaches and sky and sand and books for him to read, to reclaim his life page by page. But to get there — he had to slop through this shit work — making the rich richer.

The same in the jujutsu world, and the same here as well.

And it was one day after he had exorcised a curse from his favorite bakery’s worker, he had felt anything good — anything remotely good — in far too long. Your words rang in his ears — you make a difference.

Was he making a difference by lining the pockets of the rich? Maybe his sorcery wouldn’t change the world, move minds or hearts, pivot the course of history — but maybe he could have his own impact. And not feel like complete shit when he woke up every morning.

And he wouldn’t — he knew he wouldn’t — if he could just see you smile again. Even if he could just see you again. He pulls out his phone, staring at your picture. And maybe…maybe even more.

“Hello, Gojo? I’d like to return to Jujutsu Tech,” and he hears laughter on the other end, “why are you laughing?”

“Kento?” You drop the pen you’re holding, as he steps into your office. And your lips are parted in surprise, your eyes fixed on his, “what are you—“

“I’m coming back, to Jujutsu Tech, I’m going to be a sorcerer again,” and he knows what you’ll ask, he knows you’re going to ask why — you’re going to ask him if he’s sure. And he doesn’t know how to tell you except by saying it’s because of you.

But you don’t say anything, your chair screeches back as you get up, clattering backwards and suddenly as you’re running into his arms. Your face is buried in his chest, and he can feel the tears against his shirt, and his arms curl around you, fingers running through your hair, “I missed you so much,” you murmur, and then you look up at him, fingers tracing his cheeks, gingerly moving his glasses away, “you look tired,”

“I am, but I’m better now,” he’s murmuring — and how is it that you send him right back to where he started, right back to where you always send him. It doesn’t even take a touch — only a glance, a whiff, a second — “I missed you too,” he adds, “a lot,”

And you push him playfully, pouting up at him, “Could have fooled me. You barely ever called or texted me all these years. You talked more to Gojo than you did me,”

“That’s only because that flippant idiot won’t stop calling until I pick up,” he grumbles — Gojo was the last thing he wanted to talk about in his moment — his fingers caress your cheek, tracing the line of your cheekbone, “I wanted to talk to you — I did, I just, I knew if I talked to you, I might say something I’d regret,”

“And what would you regret saying to me?” You raise an eyebrow, and his eyes are sliding away from him.

Asking you to come see him, asking you to leave Jujutsu Tech for him, asking you to be with him — every question that he wanted to ask, but never could.

“It’s not important—” and your hand cups his cheek guiding his eyes back to yours, and he knew you weren’t going to let this go, “If I talked to you, I knew it would end one of three ways — one, I’d ask you to leave Jujutsu Tech; two, I’d come back to Jujutsu Tech; or three, you’d ask me one of these yourself — but I knew I couldn’t do that,”

And your brows knit together, “Why not?”

“Because it had to be our own decision — I couldn’t leave and you couldn’t leave, just because the other asked,” he murmurs, his gaze softening, “it wouldn’t be fair to either of us — or the other — to feel like the only reason we’re together was because of guilt or want for the other, not for ourselves,”

You consider his words for a moment, “I would have left if you asked me,”

“I know, and I would have come back if you had,”

“But we didn’t,” and your fingers cup his face, “you remember what I said to you that night that we kissed?”

And he swallows the lump in his throat, his heart rattling against his chest, “You said, you didn’t want to go further because it would only hurt more when we had to go our separate ways,” and your hand slides up his chest slowly, the other already resting against his neck, and his find their way to you — one hand holding your waist and the other cupping your cheek, “but we’re not separate anymore, are we?”

“I hope the wait was worth it,” you smile, as both close the gap, lips meeting again and again — and you taste the same, but even better somehow — and he’s only pulling you closer, lips curled in a smile so wide that he hadn’t felt in so long, so long.

“Always, when it's you,” he murmurs against your lips, before his lips begin to trail kisses down your jaw and then your neck, his teeth brushing against your pulse, pulling a gasp from your lips, “good girl,” And he feels your knees buckle against his and he’s walking you backwards into the edge of your desk, “is anyone left on campus?” and you’re shaking your head, your eyes flitting to the door, as he makes you sit on your desk, thighs parted for him to settle between.

“The door—”

“Locked,” he replies, drawing back only a moment to take in the image before him — your lips red and ruined, chest rising and falling as you look disheveled at best, sexed at worst, and your eyes — your eyes swirled with lust, half lidded and desperate for his touch— “didn’t want any interruptions,”

Just as he was.

His fingers draw up a strand of your hair and kisses it, and your lips part, “Kento, please—”

“Please, what, my love?” his voice is low and teasing, as his fingers peel back your jacket, pulling it off your shoulders, “you’re going to have to be more specific,” his lips find your neck, soft, wet kisses that has your body leaning into his, “I’m not a mind reader,”

“But you are a tease,” you pout, and he only smiles, leaning down to do the thing he always wanted to — he kisses the pout off your lips, moaning lightly when your lips part for his tongue, his hands dragging down your sides, as your fingers loosen his tie, “I think you will be doing overtime with me today, Nanami-Sensei,”

And he grunts, as your fingers free him of his tie, joining your jacket on the floor, “I’m not going to be a teacher, just a sorcerer,” his teeth graze right under your chin, nibbling, “so you’re the only sensei here — are you going to teach me what you’ve learned the last few years?”

And you toy with the top button of his blue button-up, “Oh, I’ll teach you, Kento,” and you’re starting to undo his buttons, as he busies himself undoing yours, “the question is whether you can handle it,”

“Beautiful,” he murmurs in reverence, and his fingers finally undo the buttons, sliding your shirt off your shoulders, eyes raking over your chest — sharp blue gaze lingering on the erect nipples poking through the fabric for your bra, “You’ve always been the one thing I can’t handle,” his mouth leans down, closing around one clothed nipple, while he teased the other with his fingers, and he delights in your gasp, the noise sending heat right down to his already aching cock, “but I’m willing to try, my love,”

“You still love me?” You murmur, as he shrugs off his own shirt, perfect abs teasing into a v-line, all this muscle hidden under his business attire — and you knew he still must work out, and he did. He did in case he ever needed to come back — come back for you.

“Who says I ever stopped?” His nose buried in the nape of your neck now, as his fingers teasingly snap the strap of your bra, “you smell so good, so perfect,” and his fingers undo your bra and it joins the pile of clothes growing on the floor, “there wasn’t a day I didn’t think about you — a night that i didn’t dream of you, that I didn’t want you,”

“Kento—“ you whimper, as he tugs at your skirt, a quick glance for your nod, and he slides it down your legs, bunching at your ankles until you kick it off. Your cheeks burn as he’s kissing your way down your body, his mouth teasing the other nipple he had neglected, trailing hot kisses down your stomach, until he reaches the fabric of your panties, “I need—“

“Been wanting to taste this for so long,” and he’s kneeling between your parted thighs, still calloused fingers parting your plush flesh, tongue flicking over his dry lips at the sight of the dark wet patch at the crotch of your underwear. And you look down at him, eyes glazed over with unadulterated lust that is almost enough to have him cumming in his pants, “so sweet,” he’s murmuring as he noses your clothes cunt, and you jerk, as he pulls the crotch aside, “wonder if you taste as sweet as you smell,”

“Kento—“ and his tongue drags over the length of your dripping cunt, nose bumping against your clit, as your thighs curl around him, pulling him closer, closer — “fuck—“

“Such a filthy mouth,” he tuts, smiling against your cunt as his tongue teases your folds, “almost as filthy as you are down here,” and his finger begins to part your walls, making your thighs shake and quake, his lips close around your clit, sucking.

You’re a mess of moans and pants, hips grinding against his touch, as one hand tries to muffle your moans, the other is curled in his blonde locks, “taste even better than I imagined — just f’me, only for me,” You’re so close, as he parts your folds with another finger, sinking knuckle deep, as his fingers brush against that one spot that has you parting your lips in a silent moan, head thrown back — and the heat deep in your stomach is going to snap.

KNOCK KNOCK.

You both freeze, your cunt jerking around his fingers, as you bite your lip — maybe if you’re silent, they’ll go away— but Kento clicks his tongue, a smile on his glossy cum covered lips, mouthing, “Speak,” and you gape at him, chest still heaving, as you shake your head, before he’s curling his fingers just right.

Fucker.

You hear Gojo’s voice, calling your name, “You in there?”

You swallow thickly, meeting Kento’s gaze — he’s not backing down, “Yeah, sorry I’m in the middle of something — do you need something?”

“I was just wondering if you heard from a certain salaryman, or should I say, ex-salaryman?” the very one that was burying his face back in your still sensitive pussy, slurping and licking, despite Gojo being right outside.

You have to bite back your moans, swallowing them as you speak, “You mean Nana—ah—mi?” And you feel the very same sorcerer smirk against your abused cunt, a third finger finding its way inside you, “ha-haven’t heard from him, and what do mean ‘ex?’”

You do your best at acting, but it’s hard when his mouth closes around your clit, sucking hard, as your fingers curl in his hair, biting your lip so hard, as he fucks your pussy in earnest with his fingers — how can Gojo not hear the nasty squelch of your cunt?

“He left his job. He’s coming back to Jujutsu Tech,” and he takes a beat, “I’ll take my leave,” and he chuckles, “have fun you two, and Nanami?” You feel your face flush, “don’t be too rough with her — we need our best teacher available to teach tomorrow,”

You hear his laugh all the way down the hall, and you’re covering your face — those fucking six eyes — but Kento’s tugging your hands away, “Pay attention to the one who’s filling you, love,” and he’s burying his face in your cunt, fucking you even harder — hitting that spot over and over, until you cum, back arching, as he’s pulling his fingers out to lap up the slick dripping from you, “delicious,” he murmurs, kissing your still sensitive clit, before he’s looking up at you — all fucked out, your chest rising and falling with every pant, your lips kiss ruined red — “and so beautiful,”

His licks his lips clean of your cum, wiping the rest with the back of his hand, as he rises to your feet, “Kento, please,” you’re murmuring, his hands slide over your body, squeezing your hips, “I need you,”

“What do you need—“ and his words are cut off by your fingers reaching for his buckle, the clink of the metal as you undid it, along with the button, tugging his pants and boxers down.

He hisses as his too sensitive dick slaps his stomach, your lips parting, eyes in a trance, “So pretty, Kento,” your fingers traces one of his veins to his already leaking tip, “and so fucking big,” you murmur, teasing the bead of precum on his slit, making him groan, “can’t wait to have this inside me — been waiting ten years,”

And he’s sliding your hand away, pressing his hips flush to yours, as your legs wrap around his waist, “That long huh?” And his lips find yours again, letting you taste yourself, “and I thought I was the only one pining,”

“So you admit you were pining for me?” And he laughs, as you smile up at him — like all the times he had hoped you would — “I had a crush from almost the moment I met you,”

“You could have fooled me,” he presses kisses up and down your jaw, drawing a moan from both of you as he teases your puffy clit with his aching tip, “I thought you had a crush on Geto,” and you scoff.

“Geto? So you were jealous of him — that’s why you always had that sour look whenever I studied with him,” you grin even wider, “well you had nothing to worry about - I had a crush on very gloomy boy and no one else ever caught my eye,”

And he softly smiles, and it seems to ebb away the years — the trauma and the tiredness — and left only him, your Kento.

“Is that right?” He asks before kissing you again, his fingers finding the back of your neck to deepen the kiss, as you moaned, muffled by his mouth, “I want—“

“I know, me too, please — don’t keep me waiting any longer,” and how could he refuse a request like that?

He’s sinking into you, thick cock parting your dripping folds until he hilts himself fully in you, his fingers digging your hips — and you’re so full, too full. And you’re perfect — perfect walls wrapped around him, so warm and so tight — it’s enough for him to neatly blow his load then and there.

But he can’t, can’t when he’s waited this long to do this. You’re whimpering, “S’good, Kento, too good,” your walls flutter around him as his hips shift lightly, “please, please move—“ his hands find your legs, lifting them higher to find a better angle, fingers digging into your soft thighs.

And his hips slowly thrust into you, edging you with his shallow thrusts, and you’re whining, “Kento—“

“Look at the mess you’re making all over your desk,” he’s guiding your gaze with two fingers on your chin, making you watch where his cock is sunk into you, “taking me so well, practically swallowing me, good fuckin’ girl,” he grunts, “want it harder? Want me to fuck you?”

Your desk is already creaking under your weights and the movements, you’re nodding wordlessly, lips parted, “Kento, please, I need—“ and you watched his cock pull out only to slam back in. Your head falls back, moaning his name again and again.

The squelch of your cunt rang in his ears over and over, as he grunts, barely keeping himself from cumming, especially when you begin to roll your hips into him, “You’re so pretty, and all mine — just mine,” and his lips find yours again, just as your walls flutter at his words, “like that? Like it when I claim you, love with my cock fucking you?” And his vulgar words only makes you tighter, and he grunts, “‘m close, sweetheart,”

“Me too—g’nna cum—“ and his dick reaches that spot right as his thumb bears down on your clit, teasing it in circles, until you’re moaning his name as you cum. Your walls clamp down, soaking his cock, a white ring of cum around his base as he fucks you through your orgasm.

His eyes meet yours as you do, watching your high overcome you, twitching and moaning — and he doesn’t last much longer. His hips stutter against you in shallow thrusts until he’s notching himself deep inside, groaning as he cums, hot seed painting your walls white.

“So perfect,” he murmurs, as he kisses your sweat slicked forehead, “so good,” and he’s grunting as he pulls out, watching your mixed releases trickle out, leaking all over your desk and onto the floor. He drags his cock over your weeping cunt, watching it flutter around nothing.

“Kento,” you murmur, gazing up at him, utterly blissed out as your lips curl, your legs slipping off his waist as he settles down on your desk, “I love you,”

And his heart squeezes — is he dreaming? He must be dreaming — because nothing in his life has ever been so good. So wonderful. So perfect. It didn’t happen for him — it never happened for him.

“I love you too,” he murmurs reverently, his fingers trailing over your jaw, “so much — you don’t know how much, darling,”

“Think you can quantify it for me, Mr. Salaryman?” And he snorts, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Don’t call me that,” he kisses your neck — you smelled so good, were you real?

“Then what should I call you?”

And he wanted to ask you then — ask you to call him your husband, to marry you, to buy that ring he had looked at from time to time when he thought about marrying you. But you just found your way back to each other — hell, he had just slept with you in your office, not even a bed. It was too soon, but — his lips curled — he was closer than he had ever been before. And he wouldn’t wait, he wouldn’t hesitate, not when it was you. He wouldn’t let you slip through his fingers.

He smiles, “Just call me yours.”

~~~~

Five.

Today was the day.

He was finally going to ask. That’s what he thought when he looked at you, still in bed, bathed in the dappled sunlight let in by his parted curtains. You were still fast asleep beside him, body curled up so your body was pressed against him. He ran his fingers through your hair gently not to wake you, “I love you,” he murmurs, as opens his bedside drawer, pulling a ring box and notecard from it — and he stares at it.

He’d ask you. He would ask you to marry him — finally take you on that vacation to Malaysia you both had talked about for too long, read all the books you both had put off, and lounge on the beach — and do much more in your hotel room. And then maybe, maybe he could ask you to retire from jujutsu.

He had always promised himself, promised that he wouldn’t be a sorcerer when he got married. He couldn’t bear the thought of leaving a family behind to mourn him — but even more than that, he couldn’t bear the thought to lose you, to call you his wife, call you his soulmate — and have you fall away from him.

He would rather be the one to die.

But this way — he rises, grabbing his clothes for the day, and slipping the ring and the note into his coat pocket — neither of you would have to worry about losing the other. At least to a curse.

“Where are we going?” You giggle as he drags you along the street, packed with people, more than usual. He keeps you close, an arm wrapped around you, especially for a Wednesday evening. What date was it? He had seemingly lost track of everything he had planned.

“It’s Halloween,” you remind him without him asking the question, “explains all costumed people and the packed streets — we should definitely avoid Shibuya — the crowds there would be insane,”

“How’d you know—“ and you tap his forehead with a smile.

“I could see your gears grinding, Kento,” you smile, resting your head against his shoulder, “and it’s just like you to forget it’s Halloween,”

“Is it?” he chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “well good thing I have you to remind me,”

“Very good thing, and I have you to remind me about everything else,” and he nods, and you elbow him, “you don’t have to remind me of that much!”

“You were leaving the house yesterday and you forgot your wallet, keys, and purse — you almost forgot to put on shoes—“ and you’re covering his mouth his your hand.

“How about you remind me about where we’re going?” And he smiles against your hand, before kissing it gently, pulling it from his lips and kissing the back of your hand as well, making you flush.

“Why ruin the surprise—” and then both of your phones ring — the two of you share a dark look, glancing at your phones and seeing the same message — Emergency: veil has fallen over certain areas of Shibuya. All available sorcerers report.

“I guess we are going to Shibuya,” you sigh, running your fingers through your hair, “we should—”

“We should stop by the apartment — we both left all our equipment there and I need to change,” and you nod, as his fingers toy with the ring box in his pocket, a sigh stuck in his throat. When will he ever get the chance to do this right? Finally, he had worked up the nerve and this—this had to happen.

“Hey,” you cup his cheek, a soft smile on your face, “I’m sorry our plans are falling through, and just when I was going to make you give up this secret surprise,”

His lips curl, as his arm pulls you even closer, “I don’t recall agreeing to give up any secrets,” and you lean up and kiss him, soft and sweet quickly turning heady — neither of you were ones for public displays — but for some reason, it just felt right. And you part, breath warming his lips with a wide grin.

“Oh, you would have,” and he laughs, squeezing your hips, as he rests his forehead against yours, “We’ll pick this up right after we deal with this problem.”

He nodded, leaning down to kiss you again and again, his fingers still toying with the box in his pocket. And he wanted to ask right then, just drop to his knee in the middle of this packed street full of costumed weirdos and freaks, mission be damned, jujutsu be damned — but he didn’t want to do it like this.

He wanted it to be a time where both of you were safe, where you could celebrate without the fear of danger beating down your necks, where he could talk to you, hold you, kiss you — without fear it would be the last. Because he always wondered when it would be the last. But it wouldn’t be — he’d do anything to make it back, to finally take that step with you, the one he’d been waiting for over ten years to take. Take that vacation you both wanted with his ring on your finger, and retirement from Jujutsu around the corner.

And he squeezes your hand, “Promise?” and you lean into him, pulling him along the street back to your shared apartment.

“Promise.”

~~~

He wouldn’t be able to keep his promise.

That’s what kept repeating in his mind with every step he took. He couldn’t really feel much — not anymore. That special grade curse had burned him — burned half of his body to a crisp, he could barely smell the burning flesh anymore. All he could do was keep moving. Moving. Moving. Moving.

But he didn’t want to move anymore — he was tired. So tired. He couldn’t feel much, but he could feel the weight of having to keep going, even if he didn’t want to.

And now, he stands before a swarm of…curses? Transfigured humans? He didn’t know — he could barely see at this point out of his one remaining eye — he could barely keep it open, still drooping even as the monsters loomed before him.

“Malaysia…Yeah, Malaysia…Kuantan would have been nice,” the recommendation he had gotten from Mei Mei when trying to decide on a vacation for you and him to take — who better to ask than the woman with all the time and money in the world, a little brother who’d take her anywhere she wished. You both had settled on Malaysia, still panning out the details of when, but he had planned to surprise you with open ended tickets for the both of you — paid extra for them, in case something came up.

He almost chuckles. Something always came up.

Maybe if you both had liked it enough, he’d have a private home built for the two of you — with the little library nook you always dreamed of having, finally getting around to reading the countless books you both had bought and never read, go through page by page and take back the time you both have lost.

But right now each step felt like an eternity as he walked.

Where was he going again? Oh yes, to help Fushiguro. And what about Naobito and Maki? What had happened to them? There wasn’t much he could do about that.

Tired. He was so tired. I’ve done enough, haven’t I?

Hadn’t he done enough? He thought he had done enough when he left — left it all behind like a nightmare he didn’t care to revisit. Left the loss, the pain, the anger — the curses really — all behind him, in exchange for another set — greed, money, power. What was really the best option? Had he made the right choice?

But then he thought about you.

Your smiles, your touch, your kisses, your laughs — all the times he spent with you — slow mornings spent reading the paper together over coffee and toast from the bakery you always went out of your way to buy his favorites from; lazy evenings spent watching movies or reading, your legs intertwined as you did, his arm around your shoulders, until you plucked the book from his fingers made it so you were only thing his eyes were on; and sleepless but perfect nights spent in each other’s arms. The many times he wanted to ask you — the one question he never got to ask you still burned on the tip of his tongue like a curse unspoken, and he knew if he spoke it now, it would be one.

And so he did what he did best, he dispatched the curses, quick and easy. And his lips curled despite himself — at the thought of you. He could almost feel your lips on his still from earlier, the sweet scent of you instead of the smell of blood or burning flesh, he could almost see you too.

A hand rested on his chest, stopping him in his tracks.

Mahito stared back at him.

Oh. Oh.

It was over.

I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry I can’t keep my promise. I’m sorry I can’t propose. I’m sorry I can’t marry you. I’m sorry I can’t have the life we wanted. I’m sorry I came back only to leave you with the worst curse of them all.

“I didn’t know you were here,” Nanami says, staring back at the curse — and it reminds of that time — that time Mahito had him in his domain, he truly had resigned himself to death. Resigned himself to die — and then Itadori had come crashing in, crashing in as he did his life, saving him. Saving him by not only by his very existence as Sukuna’s vessel, but by just his sheer strength.

That kid had really grown on him — he didn’t want him to. Not when he had the same positivity, the same smile, the same kindness…as Haibara. It was illogical. He wasn’t Haibara — he was Sukuna’s vessel, and he wouldn’t acknowledge him, he wouldn’t until he proved himself. But he’d protect him, and he would do what he could. Because being a child isn’t a sin — but perhaps, being a jujutsu sorcerer is one.

“Yup. The whole time,” Mahito replies, lips upturned in a slight smile, “Wanna chat? We go way back, after all,”

Nanami’s eyes shift to the floor, the muddied and bloodied tiles underneath his feet — he didn’t care to divulge his deepest feelings to a curse. There were only two people he could talk to about this — and one of them, he supposed, was now closer to his being than the other.

Haibara, what the hell was I trying to do? He asks in his mind, not even daring to say the words aloud, I ran. Even though I ran away, I came back with the vague reason of finding the work worthwhile.

And then he sees him. Haibara appears in front of him, patented smile on his lips, as he points south — points right at—

“Itadori,” Mahito says, his eyes narrowing.

“Nanamin!” his eyes wide as he takes in his state — oh, he had hoped no one would see him like this, much less Yuji. He had already been through so much, so young — hell, he had already died once. He didn’t deserve to see this. He didn’t deserve to grow up like this — to have his youth ripped away. But, did any of them deserve it?

It was a marathon, a marathon that they found themselves in that headed only towards a pile of corpses — but each time, they had to pass the baton before they stopped.

Could he finally stop?

He had dropped his baton so long ago, dropped and left the track, but he knew it would be picked up by another and another and another — but it was his baton, his baton that Haibara had handed him before he died in his arms.

No, Haibara. That’s not right. I can’t say that to him. It’ll just end up becoming a curse for him.

But it’s a curse every jujutsu sorcerer had to bear — made to bear until there were either no curses or no sorcerers left.

But he couldn’t regret it now.

“Itadori,” his lips curl, smiling for the last time, “you’ve got it from here.”

He couldn’t keep his promise to you — but he kept his one to Haibara.

And you’d pay the price.

~~~

This wasn’t real. Was it?

You stood outside your shared apartment with Kento. Finally a stop to the fighting for a month for everyone to train — enough time for you to retrieve some cursed weapons you had left behind — not knowing the fight would drag on for this long. You had considering sending someone — maybe not Ijichi but someone else to retrieve them, but right now, you couldn’t bear the thought of someone else rifling through Kento’s things. Moving the things that he had placed just so — the last remnants of his life, the marks he left that proved he was there, that he lived — that he had lived.

Lived. Past tense. And now you were still living — living in a world without him.

You inserted your key and turned the lock, opening the door. And it did, just like it had every day. Each day you’d open it — sometimes before Kento, other days after — but each time, there was always a meal Kento had prepped or bought waiting for you.

And this was the first time that there wasn’t.

Not only a meal — there was no one waiting for you. Not here.

You closed the door behind you — no longer a home, just an apartment. You needed to remember the things you needed, your mind was nowhere to be found, and fled the country when you had heard the news. You didn’t cry. Not at first.

Yuji was the one to tell you. He shouldn’t have been the one to see it. You knew it haunted his dreams, you knew he blamed himself, you knew — because Kento had done the same. So you hugged him, let him cry silently into your shirt, comforted him the best you could — because you knew that’s what Kento would have wanted.

He loved Yuji — he loved Ino too, and the other students all held a special place for him, but Yuji — Yuji was a special case. You knew that from the moment he had spoken about him.

“Gojo wants me to mentor Sukuna’s vessel,” he told you one night in bed, having returned from a mission and having a drink with Gojo — not a real drink, Kento had clarified, since it had no alcohol in it — but a drink nonetheless.

“He has a name, Kento. Itadori. He’s sweet,” you smile, you had met him and all the other first years from teaching, “he’s a good kid — very new to all of this, but he has a good heart and some good skills under his belt.”

“A vessel for the ticking time bomb has a good heart? Glad to hear it,” he sighs, running his hands through his hair, “I don’t know — he was a normal kid two minutes ago, and now he’s running around with Gojo feeding him Sukuna’s fingers every second,” he leans back against the headrest, “what am I supposed to make of this? I’m not even a teacher,”

“And what have you been doing with Ino?” you raise an eyebrow, “that kid is constantly after you, dogging your every step — he looks up to you. “And I know a lot of the other students do too, the ones that know you,”

“It’s—”

“You should do this. It would be good for you,” and he’s hesitating, “Yuji needs a sorcerer to guide him — teach him the basics that Gojo has neglected to do, and show him how a proper jujutsu sorcerer who isn’t…a special case like Gojo, operates.”

Kento’s lips curl, “You know you can call him a moron,”

“Why call him that when I have you to call him that for me?” you snort, “now what do you say?”

And he eventually agreed — and it was the best decision for him. It gave him more purpose, more drive — he seemed even more fulfilled — the most you had seen him professionally fulfilled in quite some time.

“You got it from here.”

His last words to Yuji. You almost have to scoff at the poeticness of it all — the same words Haibara had told him. The ones he hadn’t told you for nearly a decade, until one night he had told you what he said.

“And why didn’t you leave any words for me, Kento?” you ask the empty apartment before you, “for so long, we didn’t have each other — we couldn’t. And we finally find our way back, we finally do all the things we said we would — you’re gone, again,” your voice breaks, “I wish, I wish you were here. I wish I could see you. I wish—” and you break off.

There’s no point for wishing for things that can’t happen. You had things to do, and little time to waste. You needed to get stronger too. You needed to be useful. You needed to fight. You couldn’t tarnish Kento’s memory, or — you look at a picture that you had taken of him and Yuji a few days before outside a convenience store you had stopped by after a mission — his legacy.

You searched for the things you needed, placing them in cloth bags and then paper bags for easy and inconspicuous transport, but you needed to label them. You searched your apartment for a pen — but apparently you had misplaced every single one that you had — where the hell were all the pens? A question you’d usually ask Kento and he’d produce one from thin air. No matter what you lost or what you needed — he had it.

He always had it.

If he did always have what you needed, then maybe…you walk into the bedroom, over to his nightstand — he often kept a notebook for thoughts and notes in his bedside table so maybe—-

And there it was — a pen, but it wasn’t the pen that made you pause — it was the two things beside it.

A notecard and a ring box.

A ring box.

Your hands shake, and you almost want to close the drawer. Forget you say anything. Continue with the work you’re doing. It would hurt less.

But you can’t. You can’t.

You reach for the notecard first, fingers shaking as you gingerly pick it up — and you can tell this wasn’t the first he had written on. You could see the indentations from his pen, this card underneath the others as he had wrote. But his handwriting was neat, yet messy at the same time — his patented half print, half cursive scrawl that he hadn’t left.

Your legs buckle and you sit down on the edge of the bed — the side he used to sleep on, his arm wrapped around your waist, face buried in your back, his lips brushing against your skin when he finally stirred. And now it was empty.

My love, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to ask you this. I’ve thought of ways to ask for years — I had to write it down just so I didn’t mince my words or ramble — you know I’m not one to drag out conversations. I love you. I’ve always loved you from the moment I met you — I know you’d tease me for pining for you, but I did pine for you and I’ve pined for you every second we’re apart. The other times I’ve wanted to ask you, the timing never worked out. But we have the time now, don’t we? Will you do me the honor of being your husband? I’ll spend every second making you happy, because that’s what you deserve, sweetheart. Only the best.

And your tears splatter against the corner of the card, before you put it down, as you let your sobs overcome you, screams you didn’t know you were capable of making— you didn’t even realize it was you, until your throat began to ache.

Why? Why? Why?

It wasn’t real, this wasn’t happening.

And your fingers reach for the ring box now, opening it only to feel more tears well — it was the ring you had showed him. One you had showed him one late night when it had showed up somewhere or another — you hadn’t even thought about the ring again. Until now.

You can’t bear to touch it. You can’t. Not when he wasn’t there to pull it from its box and slip it onto your finger. And he never would be. Not until you saw him again — one way or another.

You snap the box closed, tears slipping down your cheeks as you placed the box and card back into the drawer — noticing something else underneath — a printout? And you pull the papers out, scanning it.

You almost sob. A trip to Kuantan, Malaysia. The trip you two had talked about for months, but never had gone on. The trip was more for Kento than it was for you — and it was for you, in a way, because what you wanted the most was to just be with him. Time was all you wished for with him — all you wanted — but you knew you could have spent every moment with him for the last ten years and it wouldn’t have been enough.

It would never have been enough.

“I miss you,” you speak to the ghosts that fill your mind and haunt your dreams — Kento and Yu, “I hope you’re at peace. I hope you’re lying on a beach somewhere, reading the books you wanted to read, drinking an expensive drink, and eating the bread you love — I promise, I’ll find my way to you, someday,”

And you place the things back in the drawer, and shut it.

For now, you had other things to do. Other people to protect, other curses to exorcise. But — you stare at the picture of the two of you on your nightstand — his love was the one curse you could never give up.

Many months later.

You take that vacation he wanted. Packing the books he always wanted to read. Pocketing the ring he wanted to propose to you with. You’d pack a few shirts of his to wear on the beach, and maybe he would be lying beside you in spirit. You would find that beach he wanted to take you to — the one he had written down and had looked up several times while booking your trip.

You kept the seat beside you on the plane empty but you ordered a glass of wine and a sandwich for him regardless. You know you would have ended up ordering because he likely would have fallen asleep — old man he always was. And if you didn’t know better, you’d think he was sitting in the seat beside you.

He wasn’t dead. Not really, you think as you sit in the beach in one of his deep blue button ups thrown over your swimsuit, reading one of his books page by page, taking back the time that was stolen from him with your own — minutes and hours and days you’d wish you could take off your own and give to him.

He was alive, he was alive as long as you were, as long as the people who he was important to were alive. And he was alive — alive in your head and your heart and your very soul.

You read his proposal aloud as the sun sets, tears slipping down your face as you slip his ring onto your finger. And there it would stay.

Stayed all the seconds, minutes, hours, days, and years you lived -- lived in the house you built in Malaysia when all was said and done for you in the jujutsu world, just as Kento had wanted. Stayed until you finally saw him again. Saw him standing beside Haibara, softly smiling behind him, as your eyes fluttered open as he greeted you. Lips curled in that same smile that damned you from the moment you saw it.

“Don’t keep me waiting, love,” he smiles, the same words you had said to him, “we’ve both waited long enough, haven’t we?”

But neither of you had to wait anymore — as you run into his arms, warm and made of flesh and blood and real, so real — you had forever now.

✴︎ a/n: first, i'm so sorry lol. i don't know how the spirit of gege possessed me but i decided to inflict some pain. i have to thank @laneysmusings for proofing this for me and having to endure this pain. I also want to credit @/tempenensis for their post on haibara / jjk 120 that helped inspire/inform the third to last scene (but they don't like self-insert so i am not gonna tag them, but you should check out their tumblr!

✴︎ taglist: @your-local-simplol, @renawithane, @grooveandshit, @aemondseyesocket, @nitskilanara, @yunchans, @ackermanbby, @luminouslateralup, @multi-fandom3, @idktbhloley, @minteaful, @malleusmybelovedd, @lighttism, @lemonpoppy-seed, @nitskilanara, @wshwshi, @rreborn, @reyy-chanx, @kiradoki, @uroldall, @madam-milf, @elusivemoon

#sab [mlist]#nanami kento x reader #kento nanami x reader #nanami smut #kento nanami smut #kento nanami x you #jjk smut #jjk x reader #nanami fanfiction #kento nanami angst #jjk angst #nanami x you #nanami x reader

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risuola · 9 months

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Hi!!!!

I dunno the correct process for making a request but here goes!! I LOVE YOUR STUFF I HAVE BEEN BLESSED.

Smut for Nanami Kento, any AU, fem reader, with 58, 81 and 85 as prompts!!

Thank you so much and have a lovely day!!

WINE STAINS

WINE STAINS — F. READER x NANAMI KENTO

As time passed, you noticed Kento became more and more distant. You loved him, oh so much, and you wanted to give him freedom. Six months after you broke up with him, he's standing at your doorstep.

cw: smut, possible spoilers? – most likely inaccuracies in the timeline, unprotected sex, oral (m. receiving), clit play, bits of angst, alcohol and meds usage briefly mentioned, minor injury + blood mentioned, violence mentioned, reader discretion is advised — 4,3k words

PROMPTS: 58. I miss doing nothing with you. 81. You think that this is easy for me? 85. I think I’ve lost my mind.

a/n: thank you! 🩶 it turned out to be a little long, but what can I say... I like writing long. anyway, hope you like it!

There was a time in your life when you felt like the luckiest woman in the whole universe. Every single one of your days was overflowing with happiness and gratitude, as if you were high on all the love you held in your heart. Two years of this feeling made you lost in the dream; the sun was brighter then, the birds were singing more vibrantly, and the long summer nights seemed to never end as you spent each and every one of them in the embrace of Nanami Kento. He was a man written by a woman – kind and gentle, but with a roughness hidden inside the breathtaking shell of attractiveness. His voice could make any woman's knees buckle, and you were lucky enough to fall asleep and wake up to that alluring tone. Those two years have made you blind.

A year ago, things began to change, but you didn't notice how Kento began to seek some personal space, distancing himself from your ever-loving embrace. He started working overtime, which he hated more than anything else, but you had no reason not to believe him when he told you time after time that he had to stay at the office for extra hours. Then he would often be tired, prying from your touch, and the long, passionate kisses would turn into quick pecks on the cheek. Countless nights you spent looking at the empty space in the bed, crying silently while Nanami slept on the couch. Cold pillows and unscathed covers made you realize that he didn't love you anymore, and it was already too late.

July 3rd, 2022 Exactly six months ago, you welcomed Nanami home for the last time, with all your things already moved out of the apartment that had been the source of your happiness. "What is it?" he asked then, looking around the empty spaces that had once been filled with memories, and you took his face into your cold, trembling hands. "Today is your birthday, my love," you began, doing everything not to crumble to pieces, "I want to give you back your freedom." He answered with silence, which you took as acceptance. "You have dinner in the kitchen, please eat well. I left you a small gift as well. Take care of yourself, be happy, okay?" you smiled, but your eyes betrayed you as tears gathered along your lash line, but you blinked them away and exhaled, your breath quivering and your heart drumming in your chest so hard you thought it would burst through your ribcage. "I think I've taken everything that's mine. All I'm leaving is my love."

Standing on your tippy toes, you kissed Nanami's lips for the last time, smoothed the soft skin of his cheeks and inhaled his musky scent for the last time. All of it was your last with him. The last goodbye you whispered against his mouth as a tear rolled down your cheek, and then you left the apartment. You remember how his hand slid down your arm as you walked past him, but he didn't stop you. Your fingertips brushed against his, but he didn't try to grab you. You made it through the Uber ride, even exchanging a few forced jokes with the driver, but when the doors to your new apartment closed behind you, you broke down. First night you spent on the floor, crying yourself to exhaustion in the cold emptiness.

January 3rd, 2023 Today, on the six-month anniversary of the worst day of your life, you look up at the sky and smile softly as the lone tear rolls down your cold-flushed cheek. Holding onto the paper cup filled with hot coffee, you can't help but wonder if he's happier now. People say time flies, but for you, the last few months have been torturous as you spent day after day trying to numb yourself with busy life, alcohol, and dulling meds. Nothing really seemed to help, no matter what you did or swallowed, nothing was able to free you from the heartache, as if the eternal love you had for Nanami had become one with your soul. So you stopped searching for a way to heal by force and allowed yourself to go through it, with all the sleepless nights, used tissues and missed meals.

Now, as you sit on the bench in the crowded park, you look out at the people rushing through the January coldness, and when your eyes land on a couple so lovely and affectionate, your mind wanders back into the memories. Many cold days, just like this one, you spent with Nanami, shamelessly stealing his warmth and hiding in the safe embrace of his strong arms. Those days were your favorite, the low temperatures gave you more reasons to never part from him, and he always made sure you stayed warm. He was so gentle with you, carrying you like a princess and holding your hands with care as he planted endless kisses all over your reddened cheeks and knuckles. Today, on the third day of the new year, you sit alone, the only source of heat being the coffee, which is now more lukewarm than anything else.

Exhaling, you finish your drink and stand up, throwing away the empty cup and entering the crowded alleys, moving forward with no destination, taking in the aura of Tokyo before leaving for good. It's been a few weeks since you decided to move somewhere else in the world, somewhere far away from where everything reminds you of how happy you used to be, but it's only now that you've finally found the strength to book tickets. With them printed in your apartment, you felt a little lighter, knowing that you're about to start a new chapter, one that will hopefully be brighter and happier. With new streets you've never walked through, with new people you've never talked to, with new cafes, new bakeries, new lakes and parks. You hoped to leave the sadness behind and start living again, not just pretending to be alive, but could you really do that anywhere in the world, when the sky and the stars and the moon and the sun that witnessed all the love you shared with Kento remain the same?

January 7th, 2023 Last night in your apartment, you sit down in the empty space, next to the few boxes that are left and yet to be taken by your father to be stored in their house and later shipped to your new home. One night is all that separates you from the anxiety-driving mixture of airports, flights, and a new life you've put so much hope into. One more night, and maybe you'll be able to find sparks of happiness again. Maybe the unknown will take up enough of your headspace that you'll start appreciating what you have instead of mourning what you've lost. Maybe.

"Cheers to new life," you mutter to yourself as you raise a half-full glass of cheap red wine into the air and take a sip. The unpleasant, tart taste twists your features for a second and you exhale deeply. "Fucking new life, my ass."

As the glass shatters against the wall where you just threw it, you groan to the heavens and despite all intentions to leave it as it is, you get up, grab a cloth and a bag and kneel down to pick up all the pieces and clean the red puddle from the wood before it stains it permanently. It gets tiring quickly, you don't have anything to sweep the floor with, you don't even have a bowl to rinse the cloth in, and as you shuffle between the living room and the kitchen, you make more mess than it's worth.

With a soft groan, you toss the cloth into the sink when you hear a knock at the door. Neighbors, you think. They probably heard the sound of breaking glass and were disturbed, just as they have been bothered by every little sound during the six months you have lived there.

There were so many things that Nanami wanted and needed to tell you, and yet nothing came to his mind when he thought about how to even start the conversation. As he stood in an empty hallway looking at your doors, he wondered if you’d even open them. Maybe you'll know it's him, maybe you'll recognize the way he knocked, or you'll look through the peephole and just pretend you're not home. But the door opened, with an almost angry swing, and when he looked down at you, his heart stopped at the sight.

You were there, wearing a large, black t-shirt that had most likely been his own many months ago, but what Nanami immediately noticed were the bright red stains all over your hands, a few traces on your legs and even on your cheek. His mind went blank at the bloody image, his heart sank and all he could focus on was that you were hurt.

"What happened?" he asks immediately, reaching for your hands to examine them, but you pull them away taking a step back.

"Kento?" you mouth, no voice leaving your throat as you stare at the all-too-familiar frame at your doorstep. Of all people, he was the last one you wanted to see that night, right before leaving. All hope shattered as you realized just by seeing him that you'll never be able to get over him, no matter where you try to run away, he'll always be a part of your soul, he'll always have a part of your heart. "What are you doing here?"

"Can we talk? I know you're leaving tomorrow," he says, and you immediately ask, "Who told you?"

"Your friend. Listen, there are things I have to tell you, I have to explain what happened."

"Kento... why are you making this so hard for me?" you sigh, your voice almost a whisper as you let him in by stepping aside. "I have a flight tomorrow; I should rest now."

“You think that this is easy for me? That losing you was easy for me?" his voice flares up for a moment before he forces it back down. "Please, just let me explain, then you can do whatever you want."

"Alright," you nod, noticing that his eyes once again landing on your covered in red hands. "It's wine. I spilled it."

"You're bleeding."

"It's wine, I'm telling you..." you try to argue, but he grabs your hand and it’s only now that you realize that you are, in fact, bleeding. A few shards of glass are embedded in your flesh, ruby streaks mixing with wine stains, but you don't even feel it and for a moment it scares you how much you desensitized yourself to pain.

“Let me,” Nanami pulls you gently towards the kitchen, where he makes you sit on the chair as he kneels down in front of you, beginning to pull the pieces out with chapsticks – the only thing that you had left in the kitchen to later have some instant ramen.

“I don’t understand why would you come here, Kento. It’s been half a year.”

“I know. But I can’t just let you leave like that.”

“I have everything set up already, I have a flight-ticket, a house and work arranged. Tomorrow I’ll be homeless in Japan.”

“You have a home, don’t act like you don’t know where it is.”

You shake your head at his words, sighing and looking away as he works on picking up the shards from your palm. He caresses you gently whist he cleans your wounds and you feel like you're burning from every place he's touching you. It hurts physically to feel his fingers holding you so tenderly and you can feel the tears already gathering in your eyes. He is your home and the thought of leaving him is suffocating you. It began killing you the day you left on his birthday, and you don't even know how you managed to push through those six months.

“Nanami… All I ever wanted for you is to be happy.”

“Do I look happy to you?”, he lifts his eyes to yours, and all you can see is devastating loneliness that lingers inside his brown irises. In the dim light of your kitchen, you can see his darkened undereyes and the tiredness painted across his features. “Y/n, please, just listen to me.”

“Okay.”

As Nanami’s finished with your hand, he wraps his tie around it, the one that you’ve always jokingly called atrocious and he’s unbothered by ruining it. He stays on his knees, enclosing both of your palms inside his own, much bigger and as you feel him, you could swear his fingers are trembling.

“I lied to you. Over a year ago I left my office job,” he began and already you were confused, but he stopped you from speaking up. “I’ve always been… different. There are things in this world that are called curses. Spiritual beings manifested from cursed energy, a result of negative emotions that flow out of humans. They are harmful to society; they are violently taking lives. Regular people can’t see them, you most likely can’t see them as well, but there are those who call themselves jujutsu sorcerers. They see curses, fight them, exorcise.”

“Are you one of them?”

“I am. I studied at Jujutsu high here in Tokyo, but after losing my classmate I left and tried to live a normal life as a salesman. Wanted to earn enough money to retire at 40 and then have a peaceful life in some kind of paradise. But I hated the office more than I hated sorcery so one year ago I got back to fighting curses. Then I began distancing myself from you. Every time you asked so sweetly how was my day, I couldn’t bring myself to tell you that I just got home from the bloody murder scene. I thought it’s better for you to not know all of that, I wanted to keep you safe. It also felt wrong to lay down in bed with you, to touch or kiss you when just hour before, my hands were red. I couldn’t sleep with you when my body was bruised and I had no idea how to explain this to you.”

You stayed silent, taking in his words, watching his expression change from shame to guilt, through sadness and lost.

“When you had told me you’re leaving, I thought it might be better for you to find someone else. That you’ll be safer with someone else. The thought of you getting hurt by a curse because of me terrified me.”

“Wouldn’t I be safer if a sorcerer was there with me…?”, you ask and he exhales.

“Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t know. I’m sorry, y/n,” Nanami lowers his head, planting a kiss on top of your knuckles. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t leave. Don’t leave me. I miss you, I miss doing nothing with you, I miss everything. I should have never let you go; you are the sun in my life, without you I feel like I live in darkness.”

“I don’t understand much of what you just said to me, Kento,” you admit, sighing and releasing one of your hands from his hold only to cup his face and he leans into your touch immediately. “about the curses, I guess I’m just a regular person, but I love you with every fiber of my existence, no matter if you’re a normie, a sorcerer or whatever else.”

You feel him deflate, like the tension left his body the second you said you still love him and you can’t help but smile softly while smoothing over his cheekbone. So many months you dreamt about touching him once again, feeling his supple skin underneath your fingertips and taste his lips. You longed for him, for everything Nanami Kento was and now you were finally able to have him back.

“I love you just as much,” he mutters against the pulse on your wrist, kissing the delicate skin tenderly. “Please, come home with me. Come back to our home.”

“If you promise me that you won’t hide things like this from me. I might not understand any of this, but if what you’re doing is that emotionally wrenching, I want to be the safe space you can come home to,” you coo, tears washing over your eyes and you fall down to your knees, bones hitting the cold tiles painfully but you don’t care, as you cup his face in your palms. Unable to wait any more second, you press your lips onto his, gently at first, but when he molds his own against yours instantaneously, you lose it.

All you can feel in your body is want, you need him now, there. You need him closer, on you, inside you. You want to taste him, feel him, breathe him in, and that's all you've wanted for the last six months, constantly trying to convince yourself that it will pass.

"Need you to fuck me," you mumble against his mouth, pushing him to sit back as you climb onto his lap.

"God, I want nothing more," he whispers, his huge palms already on your butt, squeezing the tender flesh, and you can't hold back a smile as a breathy groan escapes his throat when you roll your hips, running your pussy precisely over his bulging crotch. The rough fabric of his pants pushes easily through the thin, dotted cotton of your panties, making you gasp as it teases your clit. "Fuck you and take you home."

"Please do," you almost cry as his long fingers slip underneath your underwear, landing directly over the sensitive bud, only to slide lower along your folds, collecting the slick and he smirks at how wet and needy you are for him. Another crashing kiss takes your breath away and you squeeze his shoulders to keep yourself from dizziness. All of your thoughts are kissed away, leaving your mind focused only on the man beneath you, and you reach down, quickly, almost impatiently, undoing the belt, button and zipper of his pants. You're burning with anticipation and lust, already intoxicated by the taste of his lips and the way his tongue dances with yours.

Cold air hits Nanami's cock as you pull him out of the restrictive cage of his boxers, and he purrs into your mouth as you wrap your dainty fingers around his fat girth, pumping him even harder than he already is. Unable to focus on anything but the pleasure of your cold palm stroking his length, he pulls away from the kiss and uses his one free hand to pull up your blouse and you obey, letting go of his dick just for a second to undress. He lifts you up with ease to remove your panties as well, and as you sit back on his lap, completely bare and so beautiful, he takes a second to admire the view. The dim kitchen lights give you a blurry aura, your figure lit from behind, with only reflections sparkling in your eyes and bouncing off the curves of your front.

"You are so divine," he breathes out, his rough palms running over your naked form and you chuckle at the act of worship. It's always been like this – every time Nanami would see you naked, he'd act as if you were the most beautiful sight in the world and he was seeing you for the first time.

"And I am yours," you grin, kissing his lips passionately as you roll your hips so that the underside of his stiff shaft strokes between your wet folds. Your juices rub over him as you swallow a grunt that rumbles in his throat as you tease him.

Done with your games, Kento takes you by the hips and you surrender to the strength he holds you with as he aims the angry, leaking head at your entrance. You can feel him stretching your hole as you slowly lower yourself to take him completely. Panting from the mind-numbing sensation of fullness, you rest your forehead against his.

"You're making me lose my mind," he whispers, helping you move your pelvis. "No, I think I've already lost my mind."

"I love you too."

It's slow and sensual, no rush is needed where there's so much emotion. You feel one of Kento's hands all over your body; his thumb finds your clit and skillfully rolls over it, adding another layer to your pleasure and instantly making your pussy twitch and squeeze. You lower your head onto his shoulder, forcing your fingers to cooperate, you fiddle with his button-up shirt to get more access to his skin, to his toned body, but your hands shake as you moan against the side of his neck.

His name slips from your lips like a prayer and he loses composure at the feel of your walls squeezing him so delightfully. You're taking him so well, swallowing every inch, allowing his blunt head to kiss your cervix again and again as his practiced fingers roll over your swollen bundle of nerves. You pick up the pace, holding him close as you smear sloppy, wet kisses all along his collar bones.

The room spins around the two of you, every flex of your pussy leaving Nanami breathless as you whimper louder, overwhelmed by the approaching orgasm. The abuse on your clit pushes you over the edge so quickly, and he encourages you with praise and pet names. "Don't hold it, babygirl," he commands, taking in the feel of your trembling body, your arched back, your flushed cheeks, and those sweet sounds. The melody that makes him proud, that makes him never want to hear anything but your pleasured sounds and it amazes him how easily he loses his composure when he's with you.

Usually, Nanami is nothing but a stoic, reserved man, confident in his steps and never putting too much emotion into anything, but you're able to turn him into a panting mess. You can make him stutter, act irresponsibly, forget his own name. You're the one who makes him smile, you're the one who brings joy and pleasure into his life, and if it weren't for you, he might have already given up chasing happiness.

"Kento, ah-" you call his name, blissfully dazed; your voice shuddering as your words sink into his skin, your lips brush against his neck and he mumbles affirmations under his breath, feeling his cock flex and harden even more, hugged by the tight embrace of your squelching pussy. Unable to speak coherently, his head falls back against the kitchen island, breathless moans and lust driven whimpers leaving his mouth as he keeps your hips moving, helping you ride out your orgasm, feeling himself getting closer and closer to his own. His mind goes blank, an echo of your heavy pants filling his ears, and the way your long nails scratch along his biceps and chest muscles drives him completely insane.

You bite your lower lip, grounding yourself as the overstimulation gets the better of you. After such a long break from his cock, it almost feels too much, the sheer size and girth of it making you see stars.

"Let me taste you," you ask, but it comes out as a plea and he can't refuse when you ask so nicely, so he lets go of your hips. Quickly you reposition yourself to kneel between his legs and kiss your way down, moving your knees back across the cold tiles. With your ass sticking up, you lower yourself to envelop your fingers around his slick with your juices member, pumping him at the base while you add your spit to the concoction of fluids. He's already throbbing and flexing in your grasp as you take him in your mouth; your tongue swirls around the head and strokes along the length.

You lick and suck, moving your head up and down, lightly grazing his cock with your teeth. Nanami throws his head back, his hands landing on top of your head where he gathers your hair into a makeshift pony as you work your magic. The wet, warm feeling of your mouth, mixed with the skillful dance of your tongue makes him dizzy and the way he sucks in his breath above you makes you happy. You love Nanami in a state of chaos and disorder.

"So... perfect..." he mutters, words breaking as he speaks, and you take him deeper, pressing the tip of his cock against your throat, and as you hum, the vibration of your vocal cords sends him over the edge. His grip on your hair tightens, the veins around his girth bulging and you know he's so close. As you continue to deepthroat him, you pick up the pace of your hand at the base of his dick and use your other hand to massage his balls. You feel his thigh muscles flex against your shoulders and he pushes your head down as he cums. Tears roll down your cheeks from the sudden pressure on your throat, but you obey until he lets go and you can guide him through his release. Nanami's cum fills your mouth, smearing all around as you milk him dry, sucking every last drop like it's nectar, savoring it before you swallow.

Your movements slow down, you lick him few more times, gently pumping the length until he pulls you up into a tight embrace of his strong arms. You lean against his chest, his heartbeat right beneath your ear, and you close your eyes to listen to its melody. You don't know how long the two of you have been lying in silence on your kitchen floor, and frankly, you don't need to know as long as it's Nanami Kento you're with.

"Let's get cleaned up and I'll take you home," he finally says, the words pressed against the top of your head as he plants soft kisses there and all you can do is agree.

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