#I’ve prayed about it - other people are praying for me and it doesn’t make these nerves any less nervous😭

[lady-arcane]

Your Violence Reminded Me of Home :

They send you in after the damage is already done.

You’re not a hero. You’re what comes after.

The body bag. The Suture. The ghost that cleans up after gods.

You were trained to fix what can’t be fixed.

To close wounds that were never meant to be opened.

To make dying quieter.

And that’s when he noticed you.

Not because you were brave.

Not because you were powerful.

But because you never flinched.

Even when he stood over you, soaked in someone else’s blood, smiling like he was born to ruin.

You didn’t look away.

That’s what got under his skin.

That’s what kept him coming back.

-----

You didn’t speak to him with reverence. You spoke to him like someone who'd seen too much to be impressed anymore.

“Move,” you said once, knee-deep in what used to be someone’s liver. “Unless you’re going to help.”

He tilted his head like a dog hearing thunder.

“You’re awfully calm for someone standing in a massacre.”

“It’s Tuesday,” you said.

-----

You were the kind of person the world forgets until it needs you.

Invisible until someone starts bleeding.

And maybe that’s what made him stay.

You never looked at him like he was legend or apocalypse. You looked at him like he was inconvenient.

That kind of irreverence should have made him crush you.

Instead, he lingered.

-----

The first time he watched you lose someone, you didn’t cry.

You didn’t scream. You didn’t pray.

You just pressed your hand to the boy’s cooling chest and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Not to the gods.

To him.

He saw the way your shoulders locked, the way you didn’t breathe for a full minute. Like maybe if you didn’t move, you wouldn’t feel it.

You didn’t notice him watching.

He didn’t speak.

But later, you found the curse responsible strung from a tree, head twisted the wrong way.

It had taken you three hours to get there. Sukuna must’ve gotten there in two.

-----

You weren’t kind to him. That’s not what this is.

You were honest.

He once asked, casually, why you didn’t run like the others.

“Because I’ve spent my whole life cleaning up after men who think violence is the only language worth speaking.”

“You think I’m just another man?” he said, voice sharp.

“No,” you replied. “I think you used to be.”

-----

And that haunted him.

Because he’d burned down whole cities just to forget that—

-----

The first time he touched you, you were bandaging his side. A jagged gash from something that didn’t know better.

You didn’t ask why he didn’t heal it himself.

He didn’t ask why your hands shook a little.

But when your knuckles brushed his ribs, he stilled.

Not because it hurt.

Because it didn’t.

And that scared him more.

You didn’t make him human.

You reminded him he still was.

That was worse.

-----

He started showing up more. Missions you weren’t supposed to survive. Places no one should be. You’d find him in the aftermath, leaning against rubble, watching you with that same expressionless violence in his gaze.

Sometimes he asked questions.

“Do you believe in saving people?”

“Not anymore.”

“Why still try?”

“Because someone has to.”

“You always do things that don’t work?”

“I stayed talking to you, didn’t I?”

He laughed. It sounded like breaking glass.

-----

It was never romantic.

But God, it was intimate.

The kind of intimacy that doesn’t look like love.

It looks like two people who can’t lie to each other anymore.

-----

You started dreaming about him.

Not in soft ways.

In recognition ways.

His voice in the dark. His blood on your hands.

Your name in his mouth like a secret he hates knowing.

It wasn’t love.

It was something older.

Like grief. Like guilt. Like home.

-----

One night, you asked him something you’d never dared to ask anyone.

“Do you think people like us get better?”

He didn’t answer for a long time.

“No,” he said eventually. “But sometimes we get understood.”

You nodded.

You didn’t speak again for hours.

He didn’t leave.

-----

You told yourself it wasn’t connection. Just mutual ruin. Two broken things orbiting the same grave.

But then you got hurt. Badly.

And he lost his mind.

Not loudly. Not with roars.

Just with silence.

The kind that feels like a closing door—

When you woke up in a makeshift shelter, your wounds stitched with unnatural precision, he was already gone.

But outside the door, you saw what he left:

A trail of bodies. Eyes gouged. Faces melted. Blood spelling out a name.

Yours.

-----

You didn’t thank him.

You never did.

But the next time he appeared beside you, you didn’t ask why.

You just said, “You’re late.”

And he replied, “You’re alive.”

-----

You don’t belong together. You know this. You knew it from the start.

He is the myth that devours the world.

And you? You’re the woman who keeps trying to tape it back together.

But sometimes he sits close enough for your knees to touch, and doesn’t flinch.

Sometimes you reach for the same gauze at the same time, and your fingers linger.

Sometimes, you both exist in the same silence.

And it feels like the closest either of you has ever come to peace.

-----

He once told you that your eyes made him feel guilty.

You said, “Good.”

-----

You never tell him you love him.

But once, while half-conscious, he whispered:

“You’re the only thing I’ve ever seen that wasn’t ugly.”

You never bring it up again.

But you remember.

-----

You won’t survive this.

He might.

But not you.

And he knows it.

And that’s the tragedy.

Because for the first time in his life, he doesn’t want to win.

He wants to keep.

And the world doesn’t let men like him keep people like you.

---

But for now—

You sit in the rubble.

He watches you patch another dying sorcerer together with trembling hands and exhausted breath.

And he thinks:

Your violence reminded me of home.

But your silence reminded me of being known.

And he hates you for it.

And he keeps coming back anyway.

-----

[thatfriendlyanon]

i think part of my problem is i lived with my best friend for two years of my life and have been searching for the same feeling of joy & acceptance & support ever since

[sassyandclassy94]

Ughhh the nerves are setting in now… I hate job interviews

[seventh-district]

uh oh! it’s Seven’s Dean Winchester Kinnie Hours again!

[teaboot]

One of the biggest eye-openers for me back when a I went to church was that like…

Oh man how do I explain it.

There’s this prevalent idea I see a lot in Christian circles that if you pray right, if you follow God correctly, if you’re a truly virtuous person, your problems will be solved, right?

If you suffer, if you fall ill, if bad things happen, it’s because you aren’t good enough. You don’t need medicine because if you’re worthy, if you’re faithful enough, God will reward you by healing you. Right?

But like. Discussing this with my mother, and travelling out east with our pastor… Jesus didn’t spend all his time with perfect, virtuous people. Jesus didn’t seek out and heal well-to-do, faithful, perfect Christians. In fact, there’s a specific story in which he straight up doesn’t travel out to heal a believer’s dying daughter, because she’s already “saved”. Her earthy death is okay because she’s going to heaven already.

And like… coming from our Pastor, who is one of the best guys I’ve ever met- there seems to be an ongoing, underlying message of, “Jesus doesn’t care about you if you’re a good Christian”. If you’re a good Christian, if you’re living a virtuous life on earth, then any suffering you experience is only temporary- your ETERNITY is secure. Jesus goes out of his way to meet with sinners and the unfaithful because those are the people whose souls are in danger.

So like. In that perspective, being good doesn’t make your life better, it’s just good for others and good for your soul. Praying and doing good probably won’t cure your cancer, but it may mean you don’t have to worry too much about your death.

And like. I dunno. I wouldn’t call myself a Christian, but I find myself thinking about that concept a lot

Does suffering mean you deserve a reward?

Is suffering proof that you’re unworthy?

Or is suffering just an unfortunate facet of life that doesn’t reflect on your worth, that you still have to deal with as best you can?

Maybe suffering is just suffering.

Maybe the bad things you experienced weren’t about you

And maybe you just gotta try your best and be kind anyways, so you can rest easy when you go

[5sospenguinqueen]

A Million Kisses | Arthur Leclerc x Reader

Summary: You and Arthur have spent your entire life terrorising Charles. But when he turns the tables on you, bringing up a topic you’ve largely ignored since your teenaged years, the dynamic changes.

Warnings: Swearing. Fluff. Bullying Charles

2024 timeline. Pinterest pics. Childhood friends to lovers trope

F1 Masterlist

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scuderiaferrari just posted

liked by its_yn_ln, arthur_leclerc and others 

scuderiaferrari just friday things 

1,997 comments

pierregasly you all know what’s coming

user1 oh dear, not a charles post

its_yn_ln another day, another thirst trap. bet he posted this himself

arthur_leclerc not what i wanted to see when i opened up my phone 

→ its_yn_ln agreed, i think i’ve gone blind 

user2 every charles post summons yn and and arthur

arthur_leclerc where’s the carlos content? only reason i followed

→ charles_leclerc i’d like both of you to piss off

→ its_yn_ln that’s not a nice way to talk to your fans 

alexandrasaintmleux 💕

→ its_yn_ln did charles force you to write that so that it seemed like somebody liked him?

→ arthur_leclerc don’t be silly, yn. he took her phone and wrote it himself 

user3 not the terror twins at it again

user4 poor charles has been suffering from this ever since he joined f1

→ user5 and prior, it just wasn't as well documented lol 

user6 i bet charles begs admin to cancel his posts because he lives in fear of the comments

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charles_leclerc just posted

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, pierregasly and others

charles_leclerc beach days 

1,616 comments 

pierregasly looking good, brother (but i’m praying for you for when they see this) 

its_yn_ln and i thought narcissus loved himself 

→ charles_leclerc i miss the days before arthur befriended you 

→ arthur_leclerc so before we were both born?

→ charles_leclerc exactly 

scuderiaferrari making the most of summer break

→ user7 he’s actually begging for you to take him back so that he doesn’t have to spend another minute with yn and arthur 

its_yn_ln put your chitties away 

→ user8 when people ask me what my fav part of f1 is, i show them yn’s comments 

arthur_leclerc not shown is charles eating waves every two seconds 

→ charles_leclerc still did better than you. you wouldn’t stop staring at yn long enough to concentrate on the waves 

→ user9 what did he sayyyy

→ user10 my ynarthur heart is screaming

→ user11 um, guys, who else thinks there’s truth to this

→ user12 no because they have NEVER let charles have the last comment yet neither clap back at this??

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its_yn_ln just posted

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, francisca.cgomes and others 

its_yn_ln as charles once said, beach days ☀️ although my post is better because it has me and arthur in it 

965 comments

arthur_leclerc anything is better with us and not charles 

→ its_yn_ln more fun too 

→ arthur_leclerc that’s just me, chérie

→ user14 i’m not screaming, you are 

alexandrasaintmelux belle fille

→ its_yn_ln pas comparé à toi. still not sure what you’re doing with charles

→ alexandrasaintmleux doesn’t she look gorgeous @/arthur_leclerc?

→ arthur_leclerc you and charles deserve each other

charles_leclerc and no thank you to the brother who lent you his yacht for your date? 

→ alexandrasaintmleux bébé, it is not a date? remember they made it quite clear

→ charles_leclerc all i’m saying is i do not look at or touch my friends like that 

→ joris_trouche be weird if you did

→ charles_leclerc see @/its_yn_ln weird 

→ its_yn_ln blocked 

francisca.cgomes stunning

→ its_yn_ln marry me?

→ pierregasly @/arthur_leclerc come get your girl 

→ its_yn_ln don’t you fucking start 

oscarpiastri was he holding your hand so you didn’t fall into the water?

→ arthur_leclerc it’s what any good friend would do 

user15 yn and arthur seem to be getting awfully defensive lately 👀

→ user16 no. they’ve always talked about how annoying it is to be accused of being more than friends so how about you don’t contribute to that 

→ user17 yeah but things between them seem to be different lately and now the drivers are publicly commenting on it? 

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arthur_leclerc just posted

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri and others 

arthur_leclerc from 2 months to 22 years. it’s been a delight to share every special moment with you. happy birthday, mon problème 🥳🤍

1,027 comments 

its_yn_ln i can’t believe you dug out that baby photo 😭 i look forward to another year with you by my side x

its_yn_ln although waking up to find out you had broken into my apartment and filled it with balloons was a bit of a shock

→ charles_leclerc you might need to get used to seeing that ugly mug first thing in the morning

→ user1 what does this mean?! 

lilymhe okay but the tiara and the shades? iconic

→ its_yn_ln i’m an icon

→ charles_leclerc that’s not how you translate diva 

alexandrasaintmleux happy birthday, yn. can’t wait to see you at dinner later

→ its_yn_ln can my birthday present be you leaving charles at home?

pierregasly happy birthday, yn. drinks on me later

→ its_yn_ln okay, you’re forgiven for teaming up with charles

→ pierregasly i’m not team charles. i’m team ynarthur

→ charles_leclerc we had shirts made

→ arthur_leclerc not today, guys. 

→ user2 oo he used a full stop. he’s pissed

user3 guys, do we think the baby is just a phrase like ‘chaos baby’ or a pet name?

user4 arthur truly is the epitome of ‘if he wanted to, he would’

→ user5 never saw him put in this much effort for any of his previous relationships but yn gets the full princess treatment 

user6 anyone else see that arthur liked @/PastryMan’s tweet about yn

→ user7 okay but let’s not read too much into it. he could just appreciate the compliment fans are giving to his best friend instead of the usual hate people associated with drivers get 

→ user8 also, he was likely highly intoxicated last night lol. pr training vanishes at that point

→ user9 or, hear me out, like his brother and close friends are suggesting, he’s in love with yn 

user10 okay but proof or it didn’t happen @/NoRizz. you wouldn’t be the first one to spread gossip about drivers 

→ user11 okay, i take back my previous comment. i have since seen proof

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charles_leclerc just posted

liked by pierregasly, francisca.cgomes and others

charles_leclerc let’s take a moment to appreciate my photography skills. (oh, and the fact that i am a genius and should not be doubted or ridiculed again) tagged: its_yn_ln, arthur_leclerc 

2,024 comments 

its_yn_ln insert ‘i am stupid’ charles radio here. even YOU think you’re stupid and like you said, we shouldn’t argue with you 

→ charles_leclerc i hate you 

→ its_yn_ln okay but i distinctly remember you asking to be my maid of honour yesterday so…? fake news 

arthur_leclerc can’t really boast about your photography skills when these are all grainy/blurry 

→ charles_leclerc i hate you 

→ arthur_leclerc you literally cried when you caught us sleeping

→ its_yn_ln so loud that it woke us up 

→ user12 he really is their #1 stan

francisca.cgomes the cutest couple 

→ pierregasly what about us?

→ its_yn_ln you don’t deserve her

→ pierregasly what did i do? 

→ pierregasly you should be thanking us! if not for our torment, you and arthur never would’ve been forced to confront your feelings

lilymhe tell that man to get his hands off my wife

→ its_yn_ln look away! it was a moment of weakness 

→ arthur_leclerc she’s loved me for 22 years. she’s only known you for 5, back off

its_yn_ln bébé, why is your brother so obsessed with us?

→ arthur_leclerc he has nothing better to do

→ charles_leclerc merde, i thought sucking each other’s faces would keep you too preoccupied to attack me

→ arthur_leclerc never

→ its_yn_ln well, maybe if you stopped taking pics of us when we did, we’d be more inclined to 

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Requests for F1 smau's are open. You can see who I write for on my masterlist :)

[tilliebilly]

Tipsy

Pairing: Hufflepuff! Reader x Mattheo Riddle

Synopsis: You find Mattheo passed outoutside of his common room after curfew.

CW: fluff, drunk Mattheo, mentions of partying, mentions of hooking up, alcohol, female reader.

Author's note: This is my first ever post, so please be kind!! But also, feedback is appreciated, just don't be mean please hahah!!

I startle awake, ignoring the ache of my cheek from pressing it against my potions book as I hastily look at the thin, golden watch on my arm. 10:07. I had to put away the borrowed books and return to my dorm before Mr Filch and Mrs Norris realised I was in the library after curfew. Merlin, this is what I get for studying after I only slept for two hours the night before. In my defense, my two drunk roommates kept me up all night.

After considering just going back to sleep and getting detention in the morning, I drowsily stack all the books together and leave them in the return bin. I’m pretty sure that I accidentally left my favourite quill in one of the books, but having to go through all of them again honestly sounds more tiresome than running laps around the school, so I figure I could probably borrow one from Hannah - she always has spares!

. ˚⋆ ⭒₊˚ ⋅ . ₊ ⊹ ݁ ⋆ ⭒ ˚｡ . . ݁₊‧₊˚ ⋆'𐙚⋅｡ ౨ৎ ⋅｡𐙚⋆⭒ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ⭒˚ ⋆ . . ˚｡ . ₊ ⋆ . ݁ ⭒˚ .

On the way back to my dorm, the sound of loud music slightly wakes me up, and I remember the big party that the Slytherin house is hosting. Lorenzo had invited me, but he has also been very clear about what actually happens at those parties in the past and just the thought makes me shiver.

My heart drops when I notice a figure sitting down outside of their common room, and figuring it has to be Mr Filch, I attempt to do some type of ninja-spy-jump to avoid him seeing me. It was probably never that good of a plan in the first place, but the fact that I don’t stick the landing doesn’t make it any better. I slip on my way down, falling onto my back. I attempt to suppress groaning from the pain to not wake him up, but it seems like the fall was loud enough because he quickly stirs awake.

To my relief, the boy staring back at me definitely isn’t Mr Filch. Like, definitely isn’t. I’m not even sure how I managed to believe that.

“Mm… [name]?” The boy stirs, eyes squinted as he looks at me. I push myself onto my feet, caressing my sore back. My face heats up immediately as I realise who I’ve just embarrassed myself in front of, and I’m sure he can see how red I am even in the dark. I'm surprised he recognised me so quickly, but I suppose that isn't that odd considering how long we've known each other.

“Sorry, Mattheo… gosh, I didn’t mean to wake up!” I attempt to read his expression, but it’s hard to see anything with the shadows cast over him. Not many people know this, but his dad is actually he-who-must-not-be-named. Which I only know since my father is his most loyal follower. “I’m really sorry, I uh… I thought you were Mr Filch.” I explain, waving my hands around erratically as I step closer to him. If Mattheo got upset with me (and he gets upset quite easily) I could get in huge trouble with my family, so I pray to Merlin he’s too drunk to care.

He sighs but shakes his head. “S’alright… but you seriously thought I was Mr Filch? Do we look alike or what?” He chuckles now, making me let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

I furrow my eyebrows, realising he was sleeping... right outside his common room? Outside of his own party? “What are you doing here anyway?” I ask, sliding against the wall to sit down next to him. He reeks of alcohol, but considering my roommates, it’s nothing I’m not used to.

He groans, rubbing his hand over his forehead. “Enz kicked me out… and’m not feeling too good.”

“He kicked you out? Isn’t it your party?” He clutches his stomach, and it looks like he’s about to throw up, but he inhales sharply and relaxes again. “Do you need some water? I have a bottle in my bag, wait.” I mumble, scrambling through my leather bag. Oh look, there’s my quill! I pull out a light pink tumbler, gently pushing it into his arms. He looks at it, then at me, before smirking.

“Is this just an excuse to get us to kiss?” He slurs his words slightly, but it’s still clear what he says. ”Not that I have anything against it.” My cheeks immediately go red from the way he tilts his head and nudges at my shoulder with a grin.

“Alright, you’re really drunk.” I chuckle, looking away from him. “Try to drink; it’ll get you to sober up.” He nods, opening it with a *click* and bringing it towards his lips. He gulps, and some water spills out and runs down his sharp jaw, down to his neck. After drinking what looks like the whole bottle, he places it between his legs and wipes his swollen lips with the back of his hand.

“Thanks,” He mumbles, and this time it looks like he’s blushing. He’s clearly still intoxicated, though, so it isn’t odd. “I uh… I beat up some guy. I don’t even remember why. I think he looked at me weird? Anyway, Enzo didn’t want me to scare away the ladies so he told me I could go sober up out here.” He explains, leaning his head back towards the wall. My eyes are still focused on the water droplet hanging onto his jawline that he didn’t manage to wipe away.

“Oh,” I reply, finally looking away from him. It wasn’t unusual for Mattheo to get irritated and it definitely wasn’t unusual for him to get in fights, but beating someone up because they looked at you weird is a bit too much. I mean, of course, you shouldn’t beat anyone up, but you get my point! “Well, when are you going to be let back in? Do you know it’s past curfew?”

He looks down at me with a mocking grin, raising his eyebrows. “Oh yeah? Well, why are you out so late then, miss goody two-shoes?”

“I fell asleep in the library,” I shrug. “Are you going to have to sleep here the whole night?” I ask carefully, my heart aching a bit from how in pain he looks.

He nods. “I think his plan was for me to get caught by Mr Filch. He’s evil, man.”

“Don’t say that, Lo’s my friend! I’m sure he just… was worried about you.” Mattheo looks at me with disbelief before shaking his head.

“Maybe,” He mumbles, pulling a hand through his tousled hair. “But I sure could use a bucket right now.” He slurs, once again clutching his stomach.

I hate myself for what I’m about to ask. All I really wanted was just to go to sleep. But I couldn’t just leave him here, right? I mean, I’ve never been drunk myself, but I’m sure having Mr Filch shout at you while having a hangover isn’t nice. “Do you uhm… do you… want to come back to my dorm?” I suggest, giving him a small smile. Plus, I guess, some part of me wouldn't mind hanging out with him again. And with 'some part', I really mean my whole heart. I really miss spending time with him.

He laughs slightly, looking at me with droopy eyes. “Are you flirting with me, miss goody two-shoes?”

This time, I can tell he notices my blushing because his eyes fixate on my cheeks with a smile. “What? No! No, no. That wasn’t what I meant, I promise! I just… you know, I was trying to be..” I trail off, fiddling with my nails. “…nice,” I look up at him, and he looks back at me, nodding slowly. He leans towards me slightly, and I notice a bruise on his right eyebrow. I also notice how his eyes dart down to my lips as he licks his. He leans in a bit more, and I back away with wide eyes. “You know, if you needed to sober up is all I meant. And I have a bucket!” I smile as he snaps back into reality.

“Oh, right. Well, could you carry me there? M’so tired.” He chuckles.

“Yeah, of course, easy peasy!” I laugh, standing up to give him a hand.

He takes it, pulling himself up. His weight makes me stumble away. “I could probably carry you. You’re so much smaller than me.” He smiles sleazily, and I cringe at his suggestion. I'm sure he's just thinking aloud, though. Plus, he isn't even really that tall.

“Maybe. Let’s just get going, okay?”

He nods, and I can’t help but laugh at how he stumbles forward, eyes focused on his feet. It looks like he’s balancing on a tightrope!

. ˚⋆ ⭒₊˚ ⋅ . ₊ ⊹ ݁ ⋆ ⭒ ˚｡ . . ݁₊‧₊˚ ⋆'𐙚⋅｡ ౨ৎ ⋅｡𐙚⋆⭒ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ⭒˚ ⋆ . . ˚｡ . ₊ ⋆ . ݁ ⭒˚ .

I open my dorm door gently, knowing it usually creaks. I’m not afraid of waking up my roommates, both of them are at the party we just left, but I am afraid of Hannah hearing. She’s been having trouble sleeping lately, and her dorm is right next to ours. We aren’t really known for sneaking people into our dorms, especially Slytherin people, and she would probably give me detention just for 'tarnishing the Hufflepuff reputation. '

“Right, come on in,” I whisper, holding the door open for him. He steps in carefully, immediately sitting down on my roommate, Charlotte’s bed. “You can lie down over here, come on,” I help pull him up and guide him over to my bed. “Do you want me to get a bucket? I don’t want you throwing up on the carpet.” He nods with a groan. I quickly pick up my steel bin, pulling off the plastic bag and giving it to him.

“[Name],” He sighs, looking at me with disbelief. “This has holes in it, it would… leak.” He pushes the mesh bin back into my arms, and I put it back, grabbing the actual bucket lying under Rachel’s bed. She used it to water her biggest plants, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.

“Right, I’m so sorry! Here you go.” I sit down on the bed next to him. He immediately brings it up to his face, vomiting into it as I rub circles on his back. Rachel always says it helps her. He places it down, careful to not knock it over.

“Are you okay? Do you want some macarons?” I ask, but it’s more of a rhetorical question because before he can answer, I stand up to grab the box of macarons I had intended to give to the first years. But I could always bake more! I place the box in his lap with a tired smile. “Eating makes the alcohol go away quicker, I think.”

“Merlin, my head hurts.” He groans, opening the box.

“Yeah, well that’s what you get for drinking.” I shrug, and he rolls his eyes with a grin as he picks up one of the macarons. I look at him patiently as he chews. Smiling with anticipation for what he was going to say about them. The best thing about baking was hearing people's opinions. As long as it was praise, of course. I would cry if anyone told me my baking was bad.

He furrows his eyebrows. “What?”

“Did you like them?” I beam, shaking my leg.

He laughs, placing a hand on my leg to stop it from shaking. I go red from his touch, but he only grins wider at the sight. “I really liked them.” He hums, moving his hand from my leg to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear.

I swear to Merlin, I could die right now. He seriously looks like an angel. His messed up, curly hair is suddenly lying perfectly, and the blueish light creeping out from the top of my window is cast on him like a halo. His slightly teary eyes from the alcohol make it look like they’re shining, and I doubt anyone has ever been this handsome. His hand lingers on my cheek before he pulls away. “Thanks.” I mumble with a small smile.

“Where are your roommates anyway?” His words are being more coherent, and he’s almost not slurring at all anymore.

“They’re at the party. I doubt they’ll be back until tomorrow, they’re both terrified of Mrs Norris,” I laugh, thinking back at the time Charlotte had screamed when she saw a Maine Coon strolling around the halls when I was helping her sneak out. Turns out it was just a Ravenclaw’s lost cat. “So you can rest if you’d like. I’m sure Charlotte wouldn’t mind if I borrowed her bed.” I yawn as he quickly grabs for the bucket again to spew into. It’s hard to find someone attractive when they’re puking their guts out every other minute, but oddly enough, I do.

He places it down again before glancing at me. I wonder for a moment if he's waiting for me to stand up so that he could lie down with how intent his gaze is. But then he smiles, his gaze still unwavered. "You look really pretty."

"I do?" I ask carefully. He moves closer until our legs touch. He leans down until he can make eye contact without looking down. On second thought, maybe he is quite tall.

"Mhm." His eyes dart down to my lips again, but this time, my eyes do the same. He grabs at my waist, pulling me towards him even more, and I let him.

It feels like my heart is going to jump out of my chest. Like, seriously, is it supposed to beat this fast? "Thank you." I breathe, and we're silent for a moment, only leaving space for my thumping heart, which I'm sure he's close enough to hear, too.

He then swallows, biting his lip. "I want to kiss you." His voice his hoarse as his hand cups my cheek. I didn't hear him correctly; I couldn't have.

"Sorry?"

He pulls me in by my face as an answer, gently pressing his lips to mine. The hand on my waist slides to my back, pushing me even closer to him. He smiles into the kiss when I grab onto his shoulders, pushing myself farther up. He tastes like alcohol mixed with the sweetness of my macaron, and with the way he nibbles on my top lip, it feels like he wants to eat me, too. He pulls away, and it takes a moment before he opens his eyes. But the way he looks at me after, it makes me feel like the kiss traveled all the way from my lips to my stomach and sprouted into butterflies. The hand on my cheek moves down to my waist, and he pushes me towards him until I'm sitting in his lap.

I flinch when he releases his hold on me, instead using his hands to pull his shirt over his head. I quickly shift away from him to stand up. He furrows his eyebrows, but I just move away from him even more when he reaches out his arms towards me. "I... need to put on pyjamas." I manage to muster before scurrying into the loo.

I actually just kissed Mattheo Riddle. And I liked it. And I think he wanted to hook up with me. Goodness, this is a lot. Not in a million years could I have anticipated that my first kiss was going to be with Voldemort's son- or, he-who-must-not-be-named, I'm sorry, I'm nervous. I mean, of course, I've thought about it and dreamt about it a few times, but it was more of a fantasy than anything else. He did want to hook up, right? He didn't just take off his shirt because he got hot? Oh no, maybe he did. And if so, I was totally super weird for no reason.

I exhale, slipping into silk pyjamas before remembering how tired I am. All I have to do is go to bed. I don't even have to say anything to him! Or maybe that's ignoring him. Should I be mad that he assumed I wanted to sleep with him? But again, what if he didn't assume that? Our dorm does get pretty warm. And then I'd be mad for nothing. No, this is something newly-slept me will have to deal with.

I'm relieved when I exit the bathroom to find him sleeping. His shirt is still off, but he's lying on his stomach. I fall onto Charlotte's bed, not even having time to dwell before I fall asleep.

The next morning, Mattheo is gone, and in his place is a passed-out Charlotte who still has her makeup on.

. ˚⋆ ⭒₊˚ ⋅ . ₊ ⊹ ݁ ⋆ ⭒ ˚｡ . . ݁₊‧₊˚ ⋆'𐙚⋅｡ ౨ৎ ⋅｡𐙚⋆⭒ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ⭒˚ ⋆ . . ˚｡ . ₊ ⋆ . ݁ ⭒˚ .

"I'm serious, Rachel. McGonagall has already removed two house points for your endeavours in the past. How many more is it going to take for you to realise this isn't okay?" Hannah whines, and I do my best to suppress my laughter at Rachel's attempt at feigning innocence.

Rachel groans, crossing her arms like a toddler. "What? This is totally unfair. I swear I didn't go to that party last night! Please, don't give me detention!"

"I'm really sorry! But I have to! If you and Charlotte keep doing this, everyone's going to think Hufflepuff's party a lot, and then McGonagall will take away all of our points, and we'll never win the house cup!"

Rachel rolls her eyes but gives in. "Fine. I'm sorry, Hannah," She mutters. Hannah nods and walks away. "I can't believe this. Like, I'm sorry for trying to have some fun! Is that against the rules?" She whispers to me.

"I don't know. I mean, I don't think you deserve detention, but you don't ever think you might do it too much?" I ask, as gently as possible. Rachel has one of the shortest tempers ever, but honestly, I am a bit worried for her. It's probably been a week since I last saw her in bed in time, and she's always so tired in school.

For some reason, she doesn't argue- instead, her eyes go wide, and it looks like she's nodding to something. I furrow my eyebrows, turning around. To my surprise, it's Mattheo. He's rubbing his neck with one hand, and the other is tucked behind his back. His cheeks are red, and his tie isn't tied properly, but what I notice most is how he seems to be looking everywhere but me.

"Am I interrupting something?" He asks quietly.

I turn around to Rachel, who's shaking her head profusely. "Uh, no. What's wrong?"

"Right then, could I... talk to you?" I nod slowly, and he grabs my arm and pulls me away from Rachel. He swallows harshly before bringing forward the arm he had tucked behind his back. He's holding my pink tumbler! I must've left it outside his common room yesterday. "I found this. It's yours, right?"

I smile brightly, taking it from him. Our fingers touch when I do, and the redness on his cheeks grows. "Yeah! Thank you, gosh, I didn't realise I had left it." I beam, placing it on the bench behind me. He has something else to say, though. And it's one hundred percent about the kiss. I hadn't told my friends yet, but it's the only thing that's been circling through my mind the whole day. How gently he had held me, how he looked in the moonlight. It honestly felt surreal, like it was all just a dream. But then I remember how awkwardly I had run away from him when he took off his shirt, and I'm reminded of how real it was.

"Look, about yesterday. I'm really sorry I... It was so stupid of me." He groans, rubbing his face with his hand. I nod, but it feels like my heart has stopped beating. Of course, he thinks it was a mistake. He was drunk, and we haven't talked to each other in like a year. It was a mistake. But then, why did it feel so right?

"It's fine." Is all I respond with. Of course, I wanted to say more. I wanted to say that I want to kiss him again and that it wasn't stupid at all and that I've had a crush on him since we were kids. Ever since the dance we shared during the pureblood ball a few years ago, where we laughed all evening. And most especially ever since that time he comforted me, crying, after my father told me what the death eaters really did.

He nods, and it looks like he's about to walk away, but he turns around again and finally looks me in the eyes. "No, it's not fine. I was a total jerk to you. I just... I'm not used to girls being that nice to me unless they want to sleep with me. I mean, I know that you don't sleep around. I was just really drunk, and I really liked kissing you, so, you know. Or, ugh, I sound like a dick." He runs a hand through his hair.

I smile. "You liked kissing me?" I raise my eyebrows teasingly, trying to get him to lighten up.

"Well, yeah. I've wanted to..." He cuts himself off and clears his throat before continuing. "Look, I don't want you to think that I think of you as just another girl to hook up with. Because I really don't. I mean, yeah, I was drunk yesterday, but... I've always thought that you are... really beautiful," He mumbles, looking down at his feet. "Even when we were kids I..." He swallows. "I really like you. But I wasn't supposed to kiss you yesterday it... It wasn't supposed to have happened like that..."

I can't believe what he just said. A part of me is telling myself that I'm making this up or that I'm misunderstanding him completely. I feel like my legs are crumbling underneath me, just from how he's looking at me. My heart is beating so fast it feels like it's running towards him, and I don't blame it. I step closer to him, just because it feels right. "How was it supposed to have happened?"

He thinks for a moment. "Up on the astronomy tower. The same time of day, but I wasn't supposed to be drunk. Or in a field during sunset. Or, honestly, anything but what actually happened." He laughs slightly.

Not only does he think I'm beautiful, but he's also thought about kissing me before? I would pinch myself but it seems like my hands are stuck in place, and the only way they can move is towards him. They land on his chest, and I push myself up on my tiptoes. "How about this, then?" I whisper before pressing my lips onto his. He freezes for a moment, but then he grabs the back of my head and presses me into him even more.

He pulls away for a moment, looking at me. "Yeah, this is better." He mumbles, kissing me again.

[mononijikayu]

therapy — nanami kento and gojo satoru.

“Seriously, Satoru–kun.” you muttered. “Why are you here?” Satoru smirked, leaning back against the bar. “What, I need a reason to drink?” You gave him a flat look. “You don’t drink. Well, that I know of. Last time I made you drink tequila, you looked at me funny after just one shot.” “Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy a good ambiance, or the sweetness, or the smell.” he quipped, gesturing vaguely to the dimly lit space around you. You snicker at his words. “Plus, I have a sixth sense for finding people who look like they’re about to make bad decisions.” You huffed a small, tired laugh, shaking your head. “And you think that’s me?”

GENRE: alternate universe - actor/s au!;

WARNING/S: nsfw!, r-18, afab! reader, use of she/her pronouns, romance, angst, hurt/comfort, hurt, love, fluff, humor, light-hearted, falling in love, long-term relationship, toxic marriage, healing, age gap, emotional distress, relief, mental health issues, resentment, trauma, depression, confessions, cheating, profanity, drama, bitterness, explicit, sexual intercourse, making out, scratching, biting, multiple orgasms, kissing, rough sex, p-i-v sex, fingering, oral sex (f! receiving), creampie, praising, bodily fluids, mention of bodily fluids, mention of trauma, mention of emotional distress, mention of cheating, mention of sexual innuendos, depiction of emotional distress, depiction of cheating, depiction of sexual activities, actor! nanami, actor! gojo, housewife! reader;

WORD COUNT: 19k words

NOTE: this probably published while im still abroad, so this is automated put out by the queue!!! this took awhile and there were stuff i wanted to add, but that didn't work out. still, this means there'll be a couple more chapters and this isn't the finale. that being said, i think i love this chapter a lot and so did @areyna who graciously proofread this and was the very first victim and winner of this entire chapter. i hope you enjoy it as much as i did writing and as much as areyna did proofreading it!!! i love you all <3

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the good life ― masterlist.

YOU DON’T WANT TO BE HERE. But this is what has to happen if you are planning to stay together. You purse your lips, watching the old grandfather clock ticking away against the wall. The office smells like lavender and old books, a forced attempt at making the space feel welcoming. It doesn’t work. 

The tension between you and Kento is thick enough to suffocate, coiling in the silence as the therapist, this woman who seemed to be someone too young to understand marriage, let alone the wreckage of a twenty-five-year one, continued to flip through her notes. But she was all you had at this moment. So, you let your mouth stay shut.

“This is a safe space, you two.” she says, offering a practiced smile. “I want you both to feel comfortable expressing yourselves.”

You scoff, crossing your arms. “I don’t think comfort is possible when my husband’s only here because his company forced him.”

Kento exhales sharply, hands clasped on his lap. “That’s not fair.”

“Oh, it’s not?” You turn to him, eyes sharp. “Then why are we here, Kento? Pray tell.”

He presses his lips together, a telltale sign of his irritation. “Because we need to fix this.”

“You need to fix this.” you correct. “I’ve been living in the mess you made.”

The therapist clears her throat, interrupting before the conversation spirals into yet another argument. “Let’s take a step back. Kento, why don’t you tell us what you hope to achieve from these sessions?”

He hesitates, as if he hasn’t even considered it. Then, he sighs. “I want us to be able to talk again. To be... something other than enemies.”

You resist the urge to laugh. Enemies. As if you asked for this war. As if you asked for all this trouble. The therapist turns to you. “And you?”

You stare at her, then at your husband Kento, then down at your fragile hands, sharp nails digging into your palm. As if wanting to wound, as if wanting something that echoes some sense of the hurt you feel. 

What do you want? An apology? A time machine? A different life?

“I want to stop being angry.” The words slip out before you can overthink them.

The room is silent for a beat too long. Kento looks at you then really looks at you. For the first time in years, he actually looks at you. And for a second, you remember who he used to be. The man that actually loved you, the man that actually takes care of you and wants you. 

The man who didn’t hurt you. You wanted to look at that Kento you once knew all over again. That Kento before fame, before the affairs. Before the resentment built a wall so high you forgot how to climb over it.

Maybe therapy was a bad idea. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s the only chance you have left. The words hang between you, fragile and uncertain. I don’t want to keep hurting you. I don’t want to keep being hurt by you. I can’t do this with you anymore.

Yet those words are never said, they shouldn’t be said ever again. It’s too late for that, though, isn’t it? The damage has already been done a long time ago. And it was never going to be possible to fix. Not even when you wanted to, not even when he wanted to. The thought of staying is just the thought of foolish fools.

It was now etched into every sleepless night, every forced smile at industry events, every moment you swallowed your own misery for the sake of keeping up appearances. A single sentence, no matter how sincere, cannot erase twenty–five years of betrayal, resentment, and loss.

You inhale deeply, forcing yourself to keep your composure. “You say that now,” you murmur, not looking at him. “But where was this concern when I was at home raising our children alone? When I was waking up to rumors about your latest affair? When I was becoming a ghost of myself, while you—” 

“That’s unfair—”

“It is not unfair.” Your voice falters, thick with emotion. “While you were out there playing the perfect leading man for everyone but me, I had nothing. And you know it. You always have and you never did a damn thing about it.”

Kento doesn’t flinch, but you see the way his fingers curl slightly against his knee. He always does this when you fight nowadays. He always absorbs the hit without reacting, as if that makes him noble, as if his restraint somehow makes up for everything.

“I know I hurt you.” he says after a long pause.

You laugh, but it’s hollow. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

The therapist interjects gently, “Sometimes acknowledging the pain is the first step toward healing.”

You shake your head. “Acknowledging isn’t the same as making amends.” You turn to Kento, your voice sharp. “Do you even know what you took from me?”

He meets your gaze, but there’s uncertainty in his eyes. “Tell me. Tell me, so I can understand and fix it.” he says, and for once, he sounds like he actually wants to hear it.

You exhale shakily. “I was never supposed to be just your wife.”

The words taste foreign on your tongue, like something you buried so deep you forgot how much it mattered. It has been twenty–five years. Your youth was gone, it was long over. How could there be anything left of you now, when he had robbed you of all of it?

“I had dreams, Kento. I had plans for myself before you—before this.” You gesture vaguely between you. “But the moment you started rising, the moment your career became more important than anything else, I was expected to put mine aside. Because someone had to take care of everything you didn’t have time for. Someone had to be the constant in the chaos of your life. And it sure as hell wasn’t going to be you.”

His brows furrow, and for the first time in a long time, you see something beyond detachment, beyond his own grief and beguilement. Perhaps it was truthful guilt, maybe. Or honest regret. But neither of those things change what’s already happened.

“I never asked you to give up your life for me.” he says quietly.

You scoff. “You didn’t have to. I was forced to. You were never going to let me have an abortion. You always wanted children. And I didn’t.”

Nanami Kento stares at you, his face unreadable. But you see it—the brief flicker of something behind his eyes. Shock? Guilt? Maybe even hurt. “You didn’t want them.” he repeats, as if he needs to hear it again to believe it. “Our beloved children?”

You scoff, shaking your head. “I didn’t plan for them. I didn’t ask for them.” Your voice rises, filled with years of buried anguish. “I wasn’t ready, Kento. I wasn’t allowed to be ready to leave chemistry behind. Because you—” you jab a finger toward him. “—made the decision for me. You knew I didn’t want this, and you didn’t care.”

His jaw tightens. “That’s not fair.”

“Not fair?” Your laugh is sharp and bitter. “What’s not fair is being forced into motherhood before I even had the chance to figure out who I was. What’s not fair is raising children alone while their father is out playing the devoted family man on magazine covers.”

His expression darkens, but he doesn’t interrupt. Maybe he knows he can’t argue against the truth.

You inhale sharply, trying to steady yourself. “And don’t twist my words. I love our children, Kento. But loving them doesn’t erase the years I spent resenting what I had to sacrifice. It doesn’t erase the hell my body went through to bring them into this world. The sickness, the pain, the tearing, the bleeding. Do you even know what it’s like to almost die giving birth? Do you care?”

His face pales. “I—”

“You weren’t there, Kento.” you cut him off. “Not really. You were there for the photos, for the press, for the illusion of a happy family. But when I was crying in the middle of the night with a newborn that wouldn’t stop screaming, when I was too exhausted to function, when I was losing myself piece by piece. So, where were you?”

Silence.

His hands clenched into fists on his lap. “I thought you were happy.”

Your breath catches, something breaking inside you.

“You thought?” you echo, incredulous. “That’s the problem, Kento. You thought. You assumed. You never asked, you never listened. You just expected me to play my role.”

The weight of your words settles over him, pressing down like a tidal wave. He swallows, looking away. “I wanted us to have a family.”

“And I wanted a choice.” Tears sting at the edges of your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall.

“I love our children,” you say, voice thick with emotion. “I love them more than anything. But don’t you dare act like this was easy for me. Don’t you dare act like I didn’t suffer to give you what you wanted.”

He exhales, his shoulders sagging. For once, Nanami Kento who was always celebrated, untouchable, always in control. He looks utterly lost at what to do now. Kento looks down, his expression unreadable. And for a moment, you wonder if he finally understands—or if this is just another scene in the performance of his life.

What could he do to make it all better, easier for you?

How could he erase the bitterness and the anguish of twenty five years?

The therapist clears her throat, cutting through the thick tension like a knife. “Let’s pause for a moment.”

You turn to her, chest rising and falling with uneven breaths, your emotions still raw and thrumming under your skin. Kento’s warm caramel gaze remains fixed on the floor, his crestfallen face suddenly unreadable.

“I can see that this is an incredibly painful subject for both of you.” the therapist continues, her voice steady but firm. “But if we’re going to make progress, we need to shift the way we approach it.” She looks between the two of you. “Right now, you’re both speaking at each other, not to each other.”

Your jaw tightens, the sting of frustration still hot in your throat. “I am talking to him. He just doesn’t want to hear it.”

“I do, I know I am.” Kento says, his voice quiet but certain. “I’m listening.”

The therapist nods, acknowledging his words but keeping control of the conversation. “Good. Then let’s slow down. Let’s take a step back and focus on what’s happening here, in this room, right now.”

She turns to you. “You’ve carried a lot of pain for a long time. And you’re finally letting yourself express it. That’s important. But I want you to ask yourself. What do you need from Kento at this moment? Right now, not in the past, not for the things he can’t change. What do you need today?”

You blink, thrown by the question. What do you need? For so long, your mind has been caught in the past, replaying every betrayal, every sacrifice, every moment you felt abandoned. But the therapist is asking you to focus on the present, and the shift feels jarring.

You glance at Kento, who lifted his face and started watching you with an expression you can’t quite place or ever explain. You took a moment for yourself. One inhale, one exhale. Then, finally, you speak.

“I need you to acknowledge what I went through.” you say, voice quieter now, but still firm. “Not just say you thought I was happy. Not just say you wanted a family. I need you to really, truly see what it cost me.”

Kento nods slowly, his throat working as he swallows. “Okay.” His voice is rough, like the words are hard to get out. “I can do that.”

The therapist turns to him now. “Kento, what do you need from your wife at this moment?”

He hesitates, and for the first time in this session, you see something raw in his eyes. Something unguarded. “I need to know if there’s still a chance that this is still working,” he says quietly. “If all I’ve done….if everything I’ve broken is beyond repair.”

Silence stretches between you, heavy with uncertainty.

The therapist watches you carefully, then speaks again. “Neither of you has to answer that today. Right now, all we need to do is be honest about where you are, and what you’re feeling.”

She leans forward slightly, her gaze soft but unwavering. “And it’s okay if the answer isn’t clear yet.”

You exhale slowly, glancing at Kento once more. Maybe you don’t know the answer yet. Maybe that’s okay. The air in the room is thick with emotion, the weight of your words pressing down on both of you.

“I don’t feel like I know what to say about any of that.” you whisper, your voice quieter now, but no less full of pain. “It’s one thing to stay, it’s another to fix the relationship.” Your fingers tighten in your lap. “You hurt me. And I still don’t know how to cope.”

Kento remains silent, but his body tenses beside you. 

You can feel his gaze on you, waiting, bracing.

The therapist speaks up again, her voice even, grounding. “This isn’t about placing blame—it’s about understanding.” She turns to Kento. “What do you hear when she says this?”

He exhales slowly, like he’s picking apart your words piece by piece, trying to find the truth beneath them. “That I took you for granted.” he finally says. 

His voice is quieter now, rougher. When he looks at you, it’s not with the usual detached acceptance of your anger. It’s something rawer, something closer to regret. Something that breaks from that egotistical sense of self.

“That I expected you to stay, no matter how much it hurt you.”

Your breath catches, but you don’t let yourself react.

Because he’s right. He did expect you to stay.

Through the betrayals. Through the nights spent alone. Through the resentment and the exhaustion and the quiet, suffocating grief of losing yourself to a life you never truly wanted. He expected you to endure it because that’s what you’ve always done.

The therapist watches the exchange carefully, then speaks again. “Kento, understanding that is important. But what does that mean for you now?”

Kento’s gaze doesn’t leave yours. “It means I can’t keep pretending an apology is enough.” he says, voice rough, strained. “I can’t just ask you to move forward like the past doesn’t exist.”

You swallow, your throat tightens.

The therapist nods. “And you?” she asks gently, turning back to you. “What does it mean for you to hear him say this?”

You hesitate. Because you don’t know. You’ve wanted acknowledgement for so long. You’ve craved it, ached for it. And now, sitting here, hearing your husband Nanami Kento say the things you always needed to hear, you realize something terrifying. 

Recognition doesn’t erase the past. Understanding doesn’t heal the wounds. And now, you have to decide whether you want to heal. So, you don’t say anything. Because for the first time, he’s finally right. But the question remains—does it even matter anymore?

The room feels heavier now, as if the walls themselves are absorbing the weight of your words. Kento’s admission lingers between you, a quiet acknowledgment of what you’ve always known but never heard from his lips.

But does it change anything?

You cross your arms over your chest, leaning back against the stiff leather couch. “And what now?” you ask, voice steady despite the storm brewing inside you. “Now that you finally understand, what are you going to do about it?”

Kento hesitates, like he hasn’t thought that far ahead. Of course, he hasn’t. He was forced into this session, just like you were. Maybe he thought showing up was enough. That the act of being here, of listening, would be enough to fix the unfixable.

“I don’t know.” he admits, and somehow, that makes you angrier than anything else.

You let out a sharp breath, shaking your head. “Typical.”

The therapist interjects gently. “This process isn’t about quick solutions. It’s about identifying the patterns that have brought you both here and seeing if they can be changed.” She glances at Kento. “You’ve admitted to taking your wife for granted, to making choices that hurt her. But what are you willing to do to make amends?”

His jaw tightens. He’s always been careful with his words. All too trained by years and even decades in the industry to say just enough without ever saying too much. But now, there’s no script to follow. No director to guide him.

Finally, he speaks. “I want to rebuild what I broke.”

You laugh, the sound bitter. “And how exactly do you plan on doing that, Kento? Turning back time? Undoing years of neglect and infidelity?”

His expression hardens. “I know I can’t change the past. But I don’t want this—” he gestures vaguely between you, much like you did earlier, “—to be how it ends.”

Your stomach twists. “You think there’s still something left to save?”

A long silence stretches between you. Kento doesn’t answer, and you don’t think he even knows the answer himself. You knew very well what that meant. Even he himself does not know how to do anything about a marriage he broke.

The therapist’s voice is soft but firm. “Maybe the better question is—do you want there to be? Both of you?”

You blink, caught off guard by the shift in focus. Do you?

For so long, your anger has been the only thing holding you together. It’s easier to be furious than to admit how much it hurts. How much it still hurts. But wanting something and believing in it are two very different things.

You glance at Kento, the man you once loved more than anything. The man who shattered you, piece by piece, over two and a half decades. Do you want to salvage what’s left? Or is this therapy nothing more than a final autopsy of a marriage long dead?

“I don’t know.” you finally admit, the honesty sitting heavy on your tongue.

Kento flinches, just barely. But it’s enough for you to see it. Maybe, for the first time, he’s realizing that there might not be a way back from this. Maybe he should’ve thought about that before he broke you.

YOU DON’T KNOW IF YOU BELIEVE IN THE GODS ANYMORE. But you knew that it would mean a lot to your daughter Keiko for you both to visit the temple for prayer. She believes in the power of the gods a little bit more than you do. That’s why she suggests going there, at the very least to shake the nerves from the upcoming medical board licensure exams. 

The grounds of Yushima Tenman-gū are alive with quiet devotion.Perhaps equal to that during the New Year visits made by the people within Bunkyō ward. The scent of incense clings to the air, blending with the crispness of the late afternoon. 

Students and parents move through the space with careful steps, their voices hushed, their prayers whispered. Some clutch omamori charms tightly in their hands, while others write their wishes on ema plaques, their hopes hanging alongside hundreds of others, swaying gently in the breeze.

Your daughter Keiko moves ahead with purpose, stepping toward the main shrine, her back straight, her hands already reaching into her bag for a coin to toss into the offering box. She has always been like this, always so steady, precise. She was a young woman who knew what she wanted and how to chase it.

You linger behind for a moment, watching her.

The last time you had come to a shrine like this, you were still young. You had prayed for a future that felt distant yet full of possibility. Back then, you had imagined a life built on your own terms. A future of a career. A love that was chosen, not endured. A freedom that was never granted to you.

And now, here you are, standing in the shadow of everything you lost, watching your daughter reach for the things you never got to have. You don’t know if that makes you bitter or relieved. But you knew that there was pride and joy, and perhaps that blossoming of envy on the corners of your heart.

Your son steps up beside you, hands in his pockets, his posture more relaxed but no less thoughtful. “You should pray too, mom.” he murmurs, his voice barely above the wind.

You swallow, feeling the weight of his words settle in your chest. Pray? For what? For your daughter’s success? 

Of course, you want that for her. You have always wanted the best for your children, even when motherhood was something that had been forced upon you. Even when resentment had gnawed at you in the darkest hours of the night, when exhaustion had made you wonder who you might have been if things had been different.

For your son’s peace? He’s always been the quieter one, observing more than speaking, carrying a kind of stillness that reminds you too much of Kento. You wonder if he ever saw through the illusions of your marriage. If he ever realized how much of yourself you had lost trying to keep the family whole.

Or maybe you should pray for yourself. The thought startles you for a moment. You weren’t particularly religious. But every time you visit a temple, you know you have spent so much of your life praying for others, for their futures, for their happiness. But what about you? Do you even know what to wish for anymore?

Your feet carry you forward before you can think too hard about it. You reach into your bag, pulling out a singular coin, the cool metal pressing against your palm. Stepping up to the offering box, you toss it in, the small clink of it landing echoing louder in your ears than it should.

You press your hands together, fingers trembling slightly as you close your eyes. And then….there was nothing. No words come to mind. No clear wish forms in your heart. You stand there, empty, uncertain, the weight of a lifetime of silent suffering pressing against you. 

The gods, if they are listening, must already know. Maybe prayers don’t need to be spoken to be heard. Maybe standing here, finally allowing yourself to be present. Not as a wife, not as the woman Kento Nanami had molded to fit into his world, but simply you is enough. Maybe this is where healing begins.

As you step out of the shrine grounds, the late afternoon sun filters through the trees, casting long shadows on the stone path. You were sure the blue hour was about to come any time soon. The air is crisp, and the scent of incense still lingers faintly, wrapping around you like an unspoken farewell.

Kenshin walks ahead, his hands tucked into his pockets, his pace just slightly quicker than yours. You don’t call out to him. He’s always been the type to process things quietly, to put distance between himself and heavy conversations. Keiko, on the other hand, stays by your side. You can feel her glancing at you before she finally speaks.

“We’ve talked about it, mom.” she says, voice soft but firm.

You blink, turning to her. “What?”

She doesn’t hesitate. “Kenshin and I. We’ve talked about you and Dad. About what’s been happening.”

Your chest tightens, your breath hitching just slightly. You don’t know why it surprises you—of course, they’ve noticed. Of course, they’ve thought about it too. You could only take a soundless breath. 

The thought of your children being such people, who think about their wretched parents instead of their own lives. You can only think you have such good kids, but also guilt that they have to deal with such a thing at all. This was after all the mess of overbearing adults. 

“I already told you and your brother that this is a mess me and your father must deal with on our own.” You tell your daughter with a sigh, feeling the cold air brush against your cheeks. “You have your own lives to live too.”

“We know.” Keiko says, her hands resting on her jacket pocket. “But we still think about it. That’s just how it is.”

“Oh?” You raise a brow at her. “Then you’re too stubborn.”

She snickers. “Where do you think I got that from?”

You shake your head. “You’re too much my daughter.”

“Hm, aren’t I?”

The world around you keeps moving as you both become silent. The students walk past, the hum of distant conversations, the rustling of trees as the wind weaves through them. You purse your lips, feeling the wind become rougher and colder. For a moment, you wish that spring could come and remove the cold of autumn winds from your life.

"We think it’s better if you leave him." She suddenly says, picking up the conversation again.

Your daughter has always been straightforward, unafraid to speak her mind. But hearing it from her, hearing that it was words that came from both of them….it feels different, feels too much like a crashing wave battering you in a typhoon.

You inhale sharply, your fingers curling into fists at your sides. “Keiko… I told you, that’s not something you and Kenshin should have to worry about.”

Her gaze doesn’t waver. “How could we not?” she asks, her voice gentle but firm. “You think we haven’t noticed? The way you look when you’re with him? The way you don’t look at him anymore?”

You don’t answer.

Because what is there to say?

She isn’t wrong.

Your breath catches, the words sinking in faster than you can process them. Keiko watches you carefully, her expression unreadable, but there’s something knowing in her gaze. Something that makes you feel exposed in a way you weren’t expecting.

You shake your head, trying to steer the conversation back to safer ground. “That isn’t the point, Keiko.” you insist, your voice wavering just slightly. “Me and your father are in therapy. We’re still not making any decisions.”

Keiko doesn’t look convinced. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am sure.”

“You know for a fact that therapy just makes you even more angry at Dad.” she points out. “You come back from those sessions exhausted, and not in a good way.” She sighs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, a habit she’s had since childhood. “Really, I know you love him. But how is that enough to stay?”

“Look, I just—-”

She pauses, then adds, almost too casually, “You aren’t as smiley as when you’re with your new friends. Gojo–san and his group of friends, right?”

Your breath stutters. You want to argue. To tell her she’s wrong, that she doesn’t understand, that your marriage is complicated and layered and full of history she hasn’t lived through. But you can’t. Because she’s right.

With Kento, you feel like you’re drowning in old wounds, forced to relive them every time you try to mend something that might already be broken beyond repair. But with Gojo Satoru and his friends… Gojo, especially…..it’s different. 

The weight isn’t there. 

You can breathe. 

And maybe that’s what scares you the most.

Keiko tilts her head, studying you. “You like them, don’t you?” she states, as if confirming something she already knew. “Gojo–san, especially.”

“They’re just friends.” you say quickly, too quickly. “Gojo–san, exceptionally.”

“I didn’t say they weren’t.” Her lips twitch slightly. “But they make you happy. That’s all I’m saying.”

You don’t respond, your thoughts a tangled mess. Keiko doesn’t push, but she doesn’t look away either. Her silence is deliberate, patient—giving you space to deny it, to argue, to deflect. But you don’t. 

Because what is there to say? That she’s wrong? That Gojo Satoru and his friends are just a temporary distraction from your crumbling marriage? That you haven’t caught yourself laughing a little too easily when he teases you, or feeling lighter in his presence in a way you haven’t felt in years?

You swallow, glancing away, but Keiko hums knowingly. “See? You can’t even say I’m wrong.”

You sigh, rubbing a hand over your face. “Keiko, this isn’t about that.”

She shrugs. “Maybe not. But it matters.”

You exhale, trying to steady yourself. “I don’t even know what I want right now.”

Keiko’s expression softens. “You don’t have to.” She shifts closer, lowering her voice like she’s afraid of saying it too loudly. “But Mom… doesn’t it tell you something? That you feel happier with them than you do with Dad?”

Your chest tightens.

Because you know what it tells you.

You just don’t know if you’re ready to accept it.

YOU HAVEN’T BEEN TO A BAR IN NEARLY TWENTY YEARS. Well, at least by yourself. The amber glow of the bar lights cast a soft haze over the room, reflecting off polished wood and half-empty glasses. Low murmurs of conversation drifted through the space, but they barely registered in your mind.

All you could feel was the crushing weight of everything that has been happening in your life as of late. Your marriage, your children’s quiet acceptance of your inevitable decision, the unraveling of twenty-five years of your life right before your eyes.

So you did the only thing that made sense. You walked. Not toward anything in particular, not with any real destination in mind. Just away. Away from the conversation with Keiko, away from the heavy silence that had followed it, away from the empty hotel room waiting for you. And somehow, you ended up here. Alone.

The bar was dimly lit and upscale, but not the flashy kind. It was more of a quiet, intimate retreat for people who didn’t want to be seen, who came here to disappear into the background. It was perfect. You slid onto a barstool, resting your elbows on the counter, your head feeling too heavy for your shoulders.

"Whiskey neat, please." you muttered, barely sparing the bartender a glance.

The glass was placed in front of you moments later, golden liquid catching the light. You curled your fingers around it, but you didn’t drink. Not yet. Instead, you sat there, staring at the reflection of yourself in the mirrored wall behind the shelves of expensive liquor. 

The woman who looked back at you was someone you barely recognized. Tired eyes. Set jaw. A kind of sadness so deep it had settled into your bones. One that you could never imagine for yourself all those years ago. Where has that bright eyed young woman gone?

And then the thought came, sharp and undeniable—Fuck. This is it. This is the moment I finally drown.

The realization clawed at your chest, a quiet sort of devastation. You didn’t even hear him approach.

"…Didn’t think I’d find you here."

Your breath caught. You froze. Your head snapped up, and there he was. Gojo Satoru. Tall, sharp, annoyingly out of place in a bar like this, with his white hair and easy grin and the kind of presence that drew attention even when he wasn’t trying to. 

He wasn’t wearing his usual sunglasses, and his infamous blue eyes—too bright, too knowing was settled on you like he’d already figured out why you were here before you had even admitted it to yourself. You swallowed, gripping your glass a little tighter.

“What are you doing here, Satoru–kun?” you asked, voice quieter than you meant it to be.

Satoru tilted his head slightly, his grin lazy but his gaze sharper than usual. “Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing.”

Your fingers twitched against the glass. 

Of course, of all people, he would be the one to find you here.

You exhaled slowly, forcing yourself to steady your grip on the glass. 

"I asked first, didn’t I?" You whispered back at him. “You can’t ask a question with another question. That’s just….stupid.”

Gojo Satoru couldn’t help but let out a low chuckle, stepping closer before sliding into the barstool beside you like he belonged there. Like he belonged in this moment, with you. Almost all too perfectly. You purse your lips into a flat line.

"Just passing through, like I always am." he said, casually resting his forearm on the counter. "Didn’t expect to see you here, though. I didn’t think you would be in Bunkyō.”

“Well, that’s a long story. No, actually I can summarize it. But not right now.” You hummed, noncommittal, taking a small sip of your drink. 

The burn was sharp, settling deep in your chest, but it didn’t ground you the way you’d hoped. And then you suddenly fell back into that silence, the silence you were trying to escape with the bounty of burning alcohol pushed down your throat and probably being drunk enough to dance to the beat of the music.

Satoru leaned in slightly, eyes flicking over your expression. "What’s wrong?"

You scoffed, shaking your head. "Do I really have to say more about it? I thought I’ve told you enough about it."

His grin softened, just a little. "Well, I wouldn’t mind repetitive stories."

“I have too many of those.”

“Hm, then tell me one.” He leans against the table, getting closer to you. “Go on. I’ll listen.”

You looked at him for a moment, suddenly mesmerized by the look on his face. That tender wonder. You gulped soundlessly as you saw the smile on his lips warmer than all the other times you’ve ever seen it. You drank another sip.

Then and there, tender silence settled between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Not like the suffocating stillness you had grown used to with Nanami Kento—this was different. It was… lighter. Easier. And that was dangerous in its own way.

"You’re drinking alone." Satoru pointed out eventually, his voice quieter now.

You let out a breathless laugh, swirling the liquid in your glass. "I guess I am."

"Didn’t seem like the type."

You glanced at him. "And what type is that?"

Satoru studied you for a moment before answering. "The type to drown alone."

The words hit you harder than you expected. Because that’s exactly what you had been thinking before he showed up. Before he sat down beside you, pulling you out of your own head without even trying.

You looked away, eyes tracing the rim of your glass. "Well….." you murmured. "Maybe I didn’t want to be found."

Satoru tilted his head, considering. Then, lightly, "Too bad. I found you already, didn’t I?"

You rolled your eyes, lips twitching slightly despite yourself. "You’re insufferable."

He grinned. "That’s what they all say."

Gojo Satoru didn’t look away. If anything, his bright eyed gaze felt heavier now. It was as if it was all too perceptive, all too knowing. You couldn’t help but shift in your seat, fingers tapping absently against your glass.

“Seriously, Satoru–kun.” you muttered. “Why are you here?”

Satoru smirked, leaning back against the bar. “What, I need a reason to drink?”

You gave him a flat look. “You don’t drink. Well, that I know of. Last time I made you drink tequila, you looked at me funny after just one shot.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy a good ambiance, or the sweetness, or the smell.” he quipped, gesturing vaguely to the dimly lit space around you. You snicker at his words. “Plus, I have a sixth sense for finding people who look like they’re about to make bad decisions.”

You huffed a small, tired laugh, shaking your head. “And you think that’s me?”

Satoru’s grin faded just slightly. “I think you look like someone who needed company but didn’t know how to ask for it.”

The words landed uncomfortably close to the truth. You turned your gaze back to your drink, the ice melting slowly, thinning the whiskey bit by bit. Had that been what you wanted? Company? A distraction?

“Frankly, I really don’t know what I need right now.” you admitted finally. The words tasted bitter.

Satoru watched you for a moment before calling over the bartender. “Two more, here.” he said smoothly, nodding at your glass. “Thank you.”

You frowned. “I didn’t say I wanted another.”

He shrugged. “Then you can watch me drink it.”

You sighed but didn’t argue, because some part of you. That stupid, brave, brutish, dangerous part of you didn’t actually mind his presence. Not in this way. Not in this closer, unimaginable way that you knew you shouldn’t be.

The bartender set down two fresh glasses, and Satoru lifted his own glass with a lazy smile. “To bad decisions, [name].” he said, raising it slightly.

You rolled your eyes. “That’s a terrible toast.”

“Fine, then you pick one.”

You hesitated, glancing at him, then at your untouched drink. After a long pause, you exhaled and murmured back at him. “To not drowning alone.”

Gojo Satoru stilled for just a fraction of a second before his smile returned—quieter this time, almost too genuine, almost too warm, almost too real and only for you. He clicked his glass against yours. 

“To that. And more.” he agreed.

The whiskey burned less the second time around. Or maybe you were just getting used to it. The way it settled deep in your chest, loosening something tight inside you. Gojo Satoru didn’t say much after your toast. 

He just sat there, nursing his drink, letting the silence stretch between you in a way that wasn’t suffocating. He had that kind of presence, you realized. One that filled spaces without making them feel crowded. It was unnerving.

You had spent so many years in a marriage where silence meant distance, where unspoken words festered like wounds. But this was different. This was easy. Dangerous in its own way. Too much and you know it would be far worse than dangerous. 

He called for a third round of whiskey and then a fourth and then a fifth. By the time you lifted your last, you didn’t remember how many he called for. You didn’t stop him at each call for a round. In some ways, you realize you needed this as much as he did. These bad decisions. 

Satoru tapped his fingers idly against the counter, glancing at you. "So, princess." he said finally, "What now?"

You blinked at him, surprised at his nickname for you. You felt your cheeks flushed, perhaps more than from the alcohol. "What do you mean?"

He tilted his head, studying you. "You’re in Tokyo, alone. Kids are off doing their own thing. Husband’s…well, not here. Obviously." He waved a hand, trailing off as if the rest of that sentence didn’t need to be said. "You’ve got time to figure out what you want."

You swallowed. "I don’t know what I want."

Satoru hummed, nodding like he understood something you didn’t. Then, he stood up, stretching lazily. "C’mon."

You frowned. "Where?"

He grinned, like it should’ve been obvious. "A walk."

You stared at him, unsure. Gojo Satoru wasn’t the kind of person who waited. He was the kind of person who decided things for you, who swept you up in his pace before you even realized you were moving.

And maybe that was why, when he held out his hand, not to take yours, just an invitation. Perhaps that’s why you quickly considered it. For the first time in years, you considered something that wasn’t dictated by your marriage, by your children, by duty or guilt or obligation.

You glanced down at your hand. At the simple gold band circling your ring finger, there was never an engagement ring. You after all got married in a haste. But at one point, it was everything to you. It had once meant something. A promise. A commitment. A life built together.

But now, it was a weight. A reminder of everything you had held onto for too long. You took a moment to look at it. You swallowed the bile down from your throat. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. You opened your eyes and let it slide off.

The cool metal felt foreign in your palm. Perhaps lighter than it should have been. You set it down on the polished wood of the bar, the sound small, but deafening in your ears. Gojo Satoru’s gaze flickered to it, his expression unreadable.

But he didn’t say anything.

He just smiled at you.

And when he turned to leave, you followed.

YOU SHOULD HAVE WORN SOMETHING WARMER. The night air was cold. You didn’t notice. Your body was moving, one foot in front of the other, step after step. But everything else felt distant, muted beneath the raw ache in your chest. 

Your breath came unsteady, uneven. Your hands curled into fists at your sides, nails biting into your palms just to feel something. Anything to ground yourself at this moment. You knew you weren’t just trembling from the cold.

Your throat was raw from holding back everything that threatened to spill over. Your eyes were swollen, the evidence of too many emotions crashing into you all at once. Your soul felt like it had been ripped apart and yet, there was nothing left to do but keep walking.

Satoru walked beside you. His presence wasn’t loud, and wasn't intruding in a moment where you needed to comfort yourself for something you had done. He didn’t try to fill the silence with meaningless words or tell you it would be okay when you both knew it wouldn’t. Well, not yet.

He had simply draped his jacket over your shoulders without a word, the warmth of it seeping into your skin. Hands shoved into his pockets, his usual easy, relaxed gait unchanged.

It was like he wasn’t just walking beside a woman who had shattered right in front of him. Like he wasn’t carrying the weight of everything you had left behind.

Minutes passed. You weren’t sure how many. The city lights blurred together, neon signs and distant car horns blending into the background of your grief. And then, finally, he looks at you tenderly. "…You alright?"

His voice was quiet. Not teasing, not playful, just gentle. It almost broke you, how careful he was with you at everything and anything. It was crazy. It wasn’t something he had to do. And yet he does.

You let out a laugh, one that was harsh, bitter, something close to a sob. You didn’t know if it was the effects of alcohol or a broken heart. But you didn’t want to know.

“No.” you rasped. “Not even close.”

Gojo Satoru didn’t flinch at the sharpness of your voice. If anything, he looked like he expected it. Like he would have been more surprised if you had tried to lie. "Yeah." he murmured. "Didn’t think so."

You exhaled your breath shakily, tilting your head back to stare at the sky. The city lights drowned out most of the stars, leaving behind only a few faint specks of brightness in the distance. It just truly felt fitting.

"I don’t even know what I’m doing, not anymore." you admitted. The words felt heavy in your throat, like they had been waiting to be said for years. "I don’t know where to go. I don’t know what comes next."

Satoru hummed, tilting his head as if considering your words. "Does it matter right now?"

You turned to him, frowning. "What?"

"Does it matter?" he repeated simply, kicking a stray pebble along the sidewalk. "Knowing where you’re going? Knowing what’s next?" He shot you a sideways glance, something unreadable in his expression. "You already left the bar. That’s enough for now, isn’t it?"

You opened your mouth to argue, to tell him it wasn’t enough, that nothing about this was enough.  But you stopped. Because, wasn’t it? You had left. Not just the bar. Not just your ring. But the life you had convinced yourself you were trapped in. You did that.

And maybe you didn’t know what came next. 

Maybe the thought of facing it still made you sick with fear.

But for the first time in a long time, you did something for you.

Even if you didn’t know where you were going.

You let out a breath, slow and uncertain, and Satoru must have seen something shift in your expression because his grin returned on his beautiful lips. Though it was small, teasing, just a little softer than the usual he gives to others. In some ways, this smile somehow felt crafted only for you.

"See? You’re thinking too much again." he said, nudging your shoulder lightly. "Just walk with me for a little while, yeah?"

You swallowed. You nodded. "Yeah." you whispered. "Okay."

“Okay.” He whispers back, nodding at you.

Silence once again follows through both of you.

“…How old are you?” you finally croaked.

Satoru blinked. “…Thirty-five. Thirty-six this December.”

You let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Jesus Christ.” you muttered. “I’m twelve years older than you.”

Satoru grinned. “And?”

You stared at him. “And this means you should be hitting on girls your own age,” you deadpanned. “Not dragging miserable, middle-aged wives out of bars.”

Satoru just laughed. “I wasn’t hitting on you.” he said smoothly. “Well….not yet.”

You scoffed. “Right. Because asking a married woman out for walks around the park was totally innocent. And especially tonight, after getting her quite hammered.”

Satoru grinned. “Hey, in my defense, I didn’t see the ring.”

You snorted. “Bullshit.”

He shrugged, completely unfazed. “Okay.” he admitted. “I did know when I met you again. But in my defense those aren’t the first times we met. I didn’t know you were married then.”

And fuck. That hit like a sledgehammer. Your mouth parted, but no words came out. Your throat seized as something cold and sharp coiled around your chest. “…What?”

Satoru just smiled, slow and knowing. “I knew you from a long time ago. I told you that, didn’t I? That it was nice to meet you again.”

Your brows furrowed. “How?”

He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, as if to make sure you caught every word. “You remember when you visited the university? And you spoke to a student—”

Your breath stilled. A hazy memory surfaced. Years and years ago, standing in a lecture hall, speaking to a room full of eager, wide-eyed students. A boy in the back row, watching you with quiet intensity. And then later, conversed with you.

“That was you?” you whispered.

Satoru laughed, bright and unguarded. “I was also the student you saved. The one Yaga talked about. The one you gave your every savings for.”

The air seemed to shift, heavy with something you couldn’t quite name. “This is just…..”

Satoru’s voice softened, just slightly. “Because of you, my mom and I got through it. I got through it. I’m here because of you.”

A lump formed in your throat. 

You swallowed hard, unable to look away from him.

“I owe you a lot, you know?” he murmured.

And for the first time that night, you didn’t have a comeback.

The weight of his words settled in your chest like a stone, pressing against ribs already too tight from years of swallowing everything down—regrets, sacrifices.

All the quiet ache of knowing that your choices had never really been about yourself. You had convinced yourself a long time ago that what you did didn’t matter, that time swallowed up good deeds as easily as it did mistakes.

But now here he was. Living, breathing proof that something you did had meant something. That someone remembered.

You exhaled shakily, gripping the edge of the table as if it could anchor you.

“I—I didn’t think anyone remembered that,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Satoru tilted his head, watching you carefully. “Well, I did. And so did my mom.” His grin softened, losing its teasing edge. “She still talks about you, you know? Calls you an angel and she hasn’t even met you yet..”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it. “An angel….” you repeated, shaking your head. “God, if only she knew.”

Satoru didn’t look away, didn’t flinch at the self-loathing curled around your words like a second skin. If anything, his expression darkened. Not with pity, but with something else. Something knowing. 

“You are an angel.”

You shook your head. “I am not.”

“She does know, as well as I do, that you are.” he said quietly. “She knows you saved me when no one else would.” His fingers drummed lightly against the wood of the table before he leaned in slightly, his voice lowering. “But I don’t think you ever saved yourself, did you?”

Your stomach twisted. “That’s not—” You stopped yourself, shaking your head. “That’s not how life works.”

Satoru didn’t move, didn’t blink. “No. But it could be. If…if you just let me help you too.”

A sharp breath escaped you, half a laugh, half something much more fragile. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or the weight of old regrets pressing down on you, but either way, you felt exposed. Raw in a way you hadn’t been in years.

You had spent so long being someone else’s something. A wife, a mother, a prized trophy on a shelf, a puppet on a string, a prisoner to something you never wanted. You had forgotten what it was like to be seen. Really be seen.

“I don’t know what you expect from me, Satoru–kun.” you said, voice quieter now, more uncertain.

Satoru was silent for a moment. Then, with an almost lazy motion, he reaches across from you and lets his fingers brush against yours. “I don’t expect anything, [name].” he said simply. “I just wanted you to know—you weren’t forgotten.”

Your breath caught in your throat. It was such a simple thing. A simple touch. A simple truth. And yet it cracked something deep inside of you, something you had been holding together with nothing but sheer force of will.

Before you could stop yourself, before you could think better of it, you turned your hand over, letting your fingers curl around his. Just for a moment.

Just long enough to remember what warmth felt like. Just long enough to wonder if maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t too late to be something more than a ghost of who you used to be.

The air between you shifted, charged with something fragile yet electric. A slow, inevitable pull. Your fingers were still wrapped around his, neither of you moving, neither of you daring to shatter the moment. But then you did.

You leaned in, just slightly, drawn to him by a force you couldn’t name. He mirrored you, his body tilting forward as if answering a call he had always known existed.

Satoru’s breath fanned against your lips, his gaze flickering down for a split second before finding your eyes again, an unreadable mix of longing and restraint simmering in his expression.

“I wanted to do well by you, everyday I breathed. Everyday I lived and did — I did because I wanted to be someone you could be proud of.” he murmured, his voice lower now, rougher. “All my life.”

Your breath hitched. “Satoru….”

“I just…” He exhaled shakily, his other hand coming to rest lightly on the table between you, as if he were grounding himself. “I just knew I wanted to be there for you. To… to love you in my own way. Even from afar.”

You felt your pulse in your throat, the weight of his words settling over you like something warm, something dangerous.  “When I met you, for the first time….I just…” he continued, his tone almost reverent. “All I could realize was when certain atoms collide, it’s instantaneous. And it’s inevitable.”

“Chemistry.” You whispered under your breath. 

“Yes.” He smiles at you. His fingers tightened ever so slightly around yours. “And that’s how I feel for you.”

You sucked in a breath, the confession settling deep inside your ribs, winding around your heart like something ancient and undeniable. For a moment, neither of you moved. Then, slowly, you brought your free hand up, barely touching the fabric of his sleeve. Testing. Searching. 

You didn’t know if it was the alcohol. You didn’t know if it was the cold driving you mad or the full moon settling down below the two of you. But it was something. Something was driving you to this feverish madness.

“Satoru.” you murmured to him, meeting his eyes.

His name felt heavier in your mouth now, heavier than it had ever been. His grip on your fingers tightened. His lips parted as if to say something, but no words came. There was only the space between you. And the question of what came next.

One second, there was space that needed to be filled. It was charged, trembling, unbearable. But then all you knew next was that his lips were on yours. Soft at first, testing, teasing—then something broke.

Satoru exhaled sharply, his hand sliding into your hair, tilting your face to deepen the kiss. His mouth was warm, insistent, tasting of want and something older, something inevitable. You gasped against him, and he groaned, fingers tightening like he was afraid you’d slip away.

But you weren’t going anywhere. Not now. 

Not when he kissed you like this.

Not when you finally felt wanted.

YOU COULD ONLY MAKE IT TO THE HOTEL A COUPLE BLOCKS AWAY. It happened too fast. One moment, you were standing there, breathless, teetering on the edge of something dangerous. The next, your mouth collided with his. No thought. No hesitation. Just pure, burning, reckless agony. And fuck. Satoru didn’t stop you. He grabbed you.

Fingers twisting in your hair, an arm locking tight around your waist—hauling you against him like he’d been waiting, aching, starving for you to break all night. And god. You shattered. You melted into him, your lips frantic, your hands trembling, your body screaming for something you hadn’t felt in years.

Because fuck, as much as you didn’t want his touch anymore, you wanted to be touched. You wanted to feel wanted. And for so long, Kento hadn’t touched you like this in so long. And it killed you. It killed you that it was Satoru making you feel this way.

But god.  You couldn’t stop. And you didn’t want to stop. 

His mouth was devouring yours. It was hard, fast, desperate. Like he was trying to drown himself in you. You let him do it in any way he wanted, in any way he saw fit. You let him consume you, ruin you, unmake you.

His massive hand slid down your back, fingers digging into your hip, grinding you against him like he couldn’t get enough, like nothing in the world could ever be enough. And fuck. It felt so wrong. It felt so good.

“Fuck, fuck….” you gasped against his mouth, nails biting into his shoulders. “We— we can’t—”

“I don’t care, darling.” Satoru growled, his lips crashing against yours again. “I don’t fucking care.”

You knew he broke you then. 

And fuck, you let him.

You kissed him harder, fingers twisting in his shirt, yanking him closer until there was nothing between you but heat and desperation. Because you needed this. You needed to feel something. You needed to feel something sharp, something real, something that burned away the ache you had been carrying for years.

Gojo Satoru was destroying you in the way you needed. He bit your lip, sucked your tongue, groaned against your mouth like he was coming undone. Like you were undoing him. It made you dizzy. It made you feel happy to be reckless.

Because fuck, Nanami Kento hadn’t touched you like this in so long, hadn’t made you feel like you were something worth breaking for. But Satoru was willing to ruin and undo you. And you let him. You let him take you. Let him grab you, manhandle you, drag you through the dim-lit bar like he had already decided you were his and he wasn’t letting go.

The cold wall met your back, shocking against the heat of his body pressing into yours, caging you in. His hands were rough and desperate and starving. They slowly slid over your waist, your hips, gripping, claiming. Like you were something he couldn’t survive without. Like he had waited for this. For you.

"Tell me to stop, darling." Satoru's voice was a raspy whisper, his breath hot against your ear.

His forehead pressed urgently against yours, his bright blue eyes burning with a fierce intensity against your own. You couldn't bring yourself to utter those words back at him.You didn't want him to stop. Not now. Not ever.

"Please." You breathed, your voice trembling with need. "Don't stop."

Those two whispered words were all the encouragement Gojo Satoru needed. He snapped, his control shattering like fragile glass. His mouth descended upon yours in a brutal, desperate kiss, his lips moving with a hunger that stole your breath away. 

His hands were everywhere, touching, claiming, possessing. They gripped your hips, your waist, your thighs, as if trying to memorize every curve of your body. Satoru's fingers tangled in your hair, tugging sharply as he angled your head to deepen the kiss.

Satoru's hands slid up your welcoming thighs, his every touch burning through the fabric of your dress. He gripped your waist firmly, his long fingers digging into your flesh as he yanked your hips into his. And then you felt it. The hard, throbbing evidence of his desire pressed against you, as if he was on the verge of losing all control.

"Fuck, fuck…." he growled, his teeth sinking into your neck. "I knew you'd feel like this—"

"Satoru!" you gasped, your head slamming against the wall as your entire body shook. He was everywhere, his touch overwhelming, his presence consuming.

"I don't care, darling." he rasped, his mouth trailing down your throat."I don’t care if it's wrong. I don't care if you're married to that bastard. I don’t care if people catch us. I don't fucking care. Please, please, please. Please let me have you. Please let me love you." 

You swallowed hard, your entire body trembling and shaking under the weight of his words, his touch, his need. His breath fanned hot against your exhilarated skin, and for a moment, the world seemed to still. Waiting, anticipating. Then, barely a whisper, but enough to shatter everything. 

"Yes." you breathed. “Yes, yes, yes. Take me, Satoru. Please.”

Satoru felt himself frozen at your words. His fingers twitched against your waist, his tender lips hovering just above yours, as if he needed to hear it again, needed to make sure he hadn’t imagined it.

"Say it again, darling." he rasped, his voice wrecked, desperate.

"Yes….yes…." you whimpered, your hands fisting his shirt, pulling him closer. "Yes, yes—"

That was all it took.

Gojo Satoru snapped.

A ragged curse tore from his throat as his mouth crashed into yours, swallowing your words, your hesitation, your everything. His hands gripped your hips, lifting you against the wall, his body pressing flush to yours, unrelenting.

"I knew it." he growled between frantic, feverish kisses. "I knew you wanted me."

And you did. God, you did. Nothing else mattered. Not the world outside, not the ring on your finger, not the promises made to another. Because right now, you were his. And he was going to ruin you for anyone else. 

Satoru was devouring you, his mouth hot and hungry on your skin. His hand slid up your dress, his fingers trailing dangerously close to where you were aching for him. And you were already soaking wet, your body betraying you, begging for his touch. 

Satoru groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder. "Fuck, darling." he rasped, his voice strained with need."I need you."

His fingers found your center, slipping easily into your wet heat. You gasped, your hips bucking against his hand. Satoru's thumb circled your clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. "So fucking wet." he murmured, his breath hot against your ear." So fucking good, aren’t you?”

You knew you shouldn’t. You knew you had a husband out there somewhere, wasting his life. You knew you had two kids somewhere in this city. You knew this was wrong. It had been twenty five years. Twenty five years of neglect. Twenty five years of loneliness. Twenty five years of loving someone who made you miserable.

Yet, it all seemed to fade away under the warm touches Satoru was gifting you tenderly. He was the only thing that mattered at this moment. His hands, his mouth, his body — they were the only reality you cared about right now.

His fingers moved inside you, stroking and curling, hitting spots that made your vision blur. Satoru's thumb pressed down on your clit, rubbing firm circles that had your legs shaking. You let out a mewl as you tried to keep up with him. 

"So fucking good, aren't you, precious girl?" he murmured, his voice a low, seductive purr. 

Satoru's fingers pumped faster, his thumb pressing harder, pushing you closer to the edge. "Come for me, pretty." he commanded, his voice rough with desire."Show me how good I make you feel."

Your body responded instinctively, your hips grinding against Satoru's hand as he brought you closer and closer to the brink. His fingers curled inside you, stroking that spot that made your toes curl, while his thumb circled your clit with expert precision.

"Come on, pretty." he urged, his breath hot against your ear. "Let it all go.I want to feel you fall apart in my arms."

And with a final, devastating thrust of his fingers, you did.Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing as pleasure consumed you. You cried out, Satoru's name falling from your lips like a prayer.

He held you through it, his arms wrapped tightly around you, his fingers buried deep inside you as he rode out your climax. When the waves finally subsided, you slumped against him, boneless and trembling. Satoru pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his touch surprisingly tender.

"That's it, pretty girl." Satoru murmured, his voice soft and soothing. He withdrew his fingers slowly, bringing them to his mouth and sucking them clean. His eyes never left yours, watching your reaction as he tasted you. 

"Delicious, aren’t you?" he said, a smirk playing on his lips.He lifted you easily, carrying you to the nearby couch and laying you down gently. Satoru knelt between your legs, his hands sliding up your thighs, pushing your dress up to your waist. 

“You’re so….” You whimper at him, feeling the ecstasy of the pandemonium called pleasure. You look at him, your wet core getting wetter still. “I want more. Satoru, please. Give me more.”

"Don’t worry. I'm not done with you yet, darling." he said, his voice low and dangerous. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down slowly. "I'm going to make you come apart again and again, until you can't remember your own name."

He leaned down, his breath hot against your core."Until the only name you know is mine."

“Then make me feel good.” You whisper to him. “Make me feel it hard and good.”

He smiled at you, pressing a tender kiss at your wet core before scooping you up in his arms, carrying you to the bedroom with a predatory grace. He laid you down on the bed gently, his eyes never leaving yours as he crawled over you. 

His hands slid up your thighs, pushing your dress up to your waist. Satoru's fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down slowly. He tossed them aside carelessly, his gaze fixed on your exposed center.

Satoru leaned down, his breath hot against your core."I've had years of wanting for this, darling of mine. Like you." he murmured, his voice rough with desire. “I’ll make it feel good.”

And then his mouth was on you, his tongue parting your folds and delving deep. Gojo Satoru licked and sucked, his mouth moving with a hunger that stole your breath away. He found your clit, circling it with the tip of his tongue before sucking it between his lips.

Satoru's tongue flicked and circled your clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. He sucked gently, then harder, alternating between the two until you were writhing beneath him. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he feasted on you. 

Satoru's tongue dipped lower, thrusting into your entrance and fucking you with a relentless rhythm.Your hands flew to his hair, gripping the strands tightly as you held him against you. Satoru groaned, the vibrations adding to the intense sensations coursing through you.

He pulled back slightly, his breath hot against your core. "You taste even better than I imagined." he murmured, his voice strained with desire. 

Without warning, he buried his face between your legs again, his mouth moving with a renewed fervor. You felt Satoru's tongue plunged into you, curling and stroking, hitting spots that made your eyes roll back. You throw your head back hard, mewling like a little kitten.

"Oh god, Satoru!" you cried out, your hips bucking against his face. His tongue was relentless, plunging into you and curling in a way that made your toes curl. Satoru's hands gripped your thighs tighter, pulling you closer as he devoured you.

"Fuck, you're so wet." he murmured against your core, his voice muffled."I can't get enough of you." 

He sucked your clit between his lips, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud. Your fingers tightened in his hair, tugging sharply as the pleasure built inside you. "I'm going to come." you gasped, your body tensing. 

Satoru looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire. "Come for me, pretty." he commanded, his voice rough. "Come all over my face." 

And with a final thrust of his tongue, he sent you spiraling over the edge. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing as pleasure consumed you. Satoru's tongue continued its relentless assault, drawing out your climax until you were a trembling, boneless mess. 

He drank in every drop of your release, his groans of satisfaction vibrating against your core. As the waves of pleasure finally subsided, Satoru kissed his way up your body, his lips trailing over your stomach, between your breasts, until he reached your mouth. 

He captured your lips in a searing kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue."You're mine now, aren’t you?" he murmured against your lips, his voice possessive."I'm never letting you go. Never.”

As you slowly came down from your high, Gojo Satoru's words echoed in your mind. You were his now, and he was never letting you go. The realization sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and excitement coursing through you. Satoru's hands roamed your body, his touch gentle yet possessive. 

He kissed your bruising lips ever so deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth as if he was trying to memorize every inch of you. When he pulled back, his bright eyes searched for yours, filled with a fierce intensity.

"Tell me what you need, my darling. My pretty darling." he said, his voice low and commanding."Tell me how you want me."

You hesitated for a moment, your heart racing. But the desire burning in Satoru's eyes, his burning desire for you, was everything that was poisoning logic in your mind. You shudder with pleasure at the way his body pressed against yours, the memories of his touch. All of it all pushed you over the edge.

"I need you inside me, Satoru." you whispered, your voice trembling with need. "Need you to fill me whole, make me forget everything but you. Please, please. I need you to make me feel good.”

Satoru's bright blue gaze immediately darkened with desire at your words. He  captured your lips in a searing kiss once again, bruising them over and over with his affection, with his desire until he reached your jaw and then your neck. 

You feel his hands gripping your hips possessively. He moves to see your face once again. You looked at him as much as he looked at you. Like you were the only people that mattered in the world. That this was the only thing worth keeping in this world. Like this was the purest union made by the heavens above.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard, you'll forget your own name, pretty. Like you want me to." he growled against your jaw. He reached between your bodies, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants with hurried movements. Soon, Satoru freed his erection from every article of clothing. 

You could see the hard length pressing against your thigh. You could see how hard it was, how eager it was to desire you, to want you. To meet you closer. You purse your lips as you try to move as much as you could, trying to get Satoru closer to you.  

He smiled slyly as he positioned himself at your entrance, the tip teasing your wet folds. "Look at me, pretty." he commanded, his voice rough with need. 

You do as he pleases and meet his gaze, your breath hitching as you feel him slowly push inside you. Satoru's eyes never left yours as he filled you inch by inch, his thickness stretching you deliciously little by little. When he was fully seated, he paused, allowing you to adjust to his size.

"Fuck, you're so tight, my precious darling." he groaned, his forehead resting against yours.

"You’re so good already. So loving of me. So eager to let me build a home in you.”

Satoru began to move, his hips pulling back slowly before thrusting forward again. He set a steady rhythm, each stroke hitting deep inside you and sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you onto him as he drove into you. 

Everything about desiring someone was brutal. You could only let yourself scream and cry as he pushed deliciously in and out of you, like it was a game of push and pull. Sweat permeating through your skin, blending over and over like it was a battle between the two of you and the bed and the sheets. 

Your nails digging all too well at the small of his back, letting them dig and dig until you were sure you were drawing blood. His mouth opened widely as it moved towards  your neck, placing a sea of kisses in tune with his thrusts, before biting you, marking you. Almost as if a hunter to its prey. 

The room is filled with the sounds of your bodies coming together, your moans and Satoru's grunts and groans, and cries and tears. The sloppy sounds of the body getting louder and louder with every heightening of that cacophony of desire that only fools would have, fools who could find themselves caged in the wanton desire to love and to be loved.

It was better than what Gojo Satoru had imagined all his life. It was more than he could ask for. It was more than he could have hoped for. Your passion, your darkness, your affection, your body and soul and even your heart. It was all there for him to hold, to keep, to have. Because you had given it so freely. You had given it to him to keep safe and hold dear. 

You have been waiting for so long for someone who could keep your heart steady with the right tenderness, the right intentions, the right sense of love. And he knows it's too soon and he knows you haven’t said it yet. But you trust him enough to hold it, even if it was just for now. And he will do what he can to do it all. 

Because he believes in love.

He believes in being in love.

And he believes in loving you.

"You feel so fucking good, my precious baby." he panted, his breath hot against your ear. "I've dreamed of this for so long." 

He angled his hips, hitting a spot that made you see stars. Satoru's mouth found yours, swallowing your cries as he pounded into you with increasing urgency. His hands roamed your body, squeezing your breasts, teasing your nipples, as if he couldn't get enough of you.

"Come for me again, pretty." he demanded, his voice strained with his own impending release. “Let go for me like the good girl you are.”

Satoru's fingers found your clit, rubbing firm circles that pushed you closer to the edge.His thrusts became faster, harder, his hips slamming against yours with a force that shook the bed. You could feel your orgasm building, your body tensing as the pleasure coiled tighter and tighter inside you.

"That's it, pretty baby." Satoru urged, his voice low and gravelly. "Come all over my cock. Milk me dry."

His words, combined with the relentless assault on your senses, sent you crashing over the edge. Your orgasm hit you like a freight train, your body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you.

Satoru's movements became erratic, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside you and came, his release hot and thick as it filled you. He collapsed on top of you, his body trembling with the aftermath of his orgasm.

The room was thick with heat, the scent of sweat and sex clinging to the air like an unshakable truth. Satoru's weight pressed against you, his breath hot and uneven against your shoulder, his body still trembling in the aftermath.

For a moment, neither of you moved. 

Neither of you spoke.

Then, reality crept in.

You felt the damp sheets beneath you, the way your legs still shook, the lingering pulse of pleasure thrumming through your veins. But more than that, you felt the weight of what you'd just done pressing down on your chest, threatening to steal the air from your lungs.

Satoru shifted, pressing a lazy kiss to your collarbone. "God, you’re perfect, aren’t you?" he murmured, voice still husky, still lost in you. "I should’ve never let you go."

Your fingers twitched as they rested against his back, your mind screaming at you to move, to say something, to do anything other than just lie there, tangled in sheets that weren’t yours, with a man who wasn’t your husband.

"Satoru..." Your voice was barely a whisper, but he caught it. He always did.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his usual cocky grin absent, replaced by something raw, something real. "Don’t." he said, his thumb brushing over your cheek. "Don’t say you regret it. Not yet."

“I don’t.” You whispered to him, your tone a bit sore. 

“Okay.” He breathed.

“Okay.” You say, letting your eyes settle on his.

The weight of guilt never came and you didn’t expect yourself to feel it. The silence between you was thick, stretching out like the space between lightning and thunder. The kind that comes before a storm.

Satoru's arms were still wrapped around you, his breath warm against your skin, his grip possessive. Like he was afraid to let go. There was no ring on your finger anymore. No tether to a life that felt like a lie. Just this silence, just his peace, just you and him.

"You’re thinking again." he murmured, lips grazing your temple, voice hoarse from exhaustion. “Too loudly too.”

You exhaled slowly. “Shouldn’t I?”

He huffed a quiet laugh, but there was no amusement in it. Just something raw, something unsteady. “You always do.” he muttered. “Even when you don’t have to.”

You hesitated, your fingers twitching against his skin. “Satoru…”

“Stay.”

The word was barely above a whisper, but it felt heavier than anything he’d ever said before. Your heart slammed against your ribs. His grip on you tightened, his fingers pressing into your bare waist, his lips ghosting over your jaw. 

“Stay with me here. Even for a little while.” he murmured again, softer this time, like a prayer. “No more running. No more pretending.”

You swallowed hard. You should’ve hesitated. 

You should've thought about it. But you didn’t. 

“Okay.” you breathed in response to him.

Satoru stills as he looks at you and then smiles. His grip loosened for half a second. Like he couldn’t believe you’d actually said it. But then he was pulling you closer, his lips crashing into yours, his entire body trembling with something unspoken.

There was no more speaking after that.

Instead the world woke up and met the sun.

And both of you stayed asleep, in each other’s arms.

YOU HAD NO REGRETS WHEN YOU SAID WHAT YOU SAID. Kento didn’t even realize he was screaming. Didn’t realize his hands had curled into fists, nails biting into his palms. Didn’t realize the therapist had sprung from her chair, eyes wide, uncertain whether to intervene or let the storm run its course.

But he did realize one thing. Your hands were bare. No ring. No symbol of what you had built together. Nothing. You said that you left it in some bar in Bunkyō because you couldn’t bear the sight of it on your hand.

“Who the fuck was it?” His voice was rough, cracking at the edges. “I asked you, who the fuck was it?”

You didn’t answer, looking at him with a serene look. Perhaps it’s what’s making him even angrier. Just as much as over the years of you knowing that he had cheated and never saying a word and when you did, saying you could care less.

His jaw clenched. “Who was it?”

Silence once more blisters him.

And then Kento completely lost his mind.

“Was it Toji?” he spat, desperate for a name, a face, something tangible he could blame, something he could destroy. “Was it one of my co-stars? Some fucking fan? His manager? Who the fuck was it?”

You laughed at his words, as though they were the most ridiculous things you’ve ever heard. But there was nothing warm about it. It was empty. Hollow. Like something that had decayed a long time ago.

“It doesn’t matter, Kento.”

“The fuck it doesn’t.” he snarled. His breath came fast, shoulders tight, entire body brimming with fury. His world was splitting apart, cracking open like a wound, bleeding something ugly and raw. “You cheated on me, and you think it doesn’t matter?”

Another laugh. This one is even colder. “Did it matter when you did it?”

Kento froze. “Don’t you—”

You tilted your head, eyes sharp, waiting for him to lie. 

But he didn’t, he knew he couldn’t, he knew he couldn’t do it.

He was a worse monster than you, a far worse beast than you.

He can never come here and say that you were the bad one.

“Did it matter when you spent years fucking women who weren’t me?” Your voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of something deadly. “Did it matter when you looked me in the eye every night and still went to set and fucked someone else? Did it matter, Kento?”

His lips parted, the start of a denial forming on his face. “Don’t turn this on me—”

“It was always on you.” The words cut through the air like a blade. Kento flinched. “Toji’s wife wouldn’t cheat with you if she wasn’t so miserable being cheated on by Toji. I wouldn’t have looked fucking elsewhere, if I didn’t suffer twenty–fucking–five years of misery because of you!”

“Years, Kento. Years.” Your voice was shaking now, but not from grief. From something blistering. Something that had been burning inside you for too long.

"I did what I could to make everything work." Kento argues back, looking at you with a shattered look. "I worked and worked and lived with your hatred and your resentment—"

“But you cheated first. You cheated for years. And I sat there. I sat there and I waited for you to love me again. I cried myself to sleep, I tore myself apart, I bled myself dry trying to be someone you wanted.”

He inhaled sharply, but you weren’t finished. “You didn’t care. You never fucking cared. You just kept cheating. You just kept hating me. And I let it happen. Because I loved you.”

Silence. The therapist was motionless, her presence insignificant in the wreckage between you. Kento’s breath was unsteady. His hands trembled at his sides. You just looked at him. And for the first time, he saw it. Not anger. Not pain. Nothing.

The part of you that had once belonged to him was gone. And the worst part of it wasn’t because of what you had done. It was because of what he had done first. And he knew he had no excuse. He had no excuse to be angry, or to be jealous, or to feel wronged when he did worse than you  ever could.

Nanami Kento’s face was crumpling. Tears streamed down his face, unchecked, his body shaking under the weight of something unbearable. Regret. Shame. Pain. It was crushing him, hollowing him out from the inside, but you didn’t care. Not anymore.

“I loved you, Kento. I still do, some part of me still does. And I don't think that will go away. You were my first in everything, father of my children, I acknowledge that. ” you screamed, voice splitting, raw and wrecked. “But then, I loved you more than life itself. I gave you everything. And you threw me away like I was nothing. And I am exhausted of living like I can deal with it.”

Your breath hitched violently, hands trembling as the words ripped free from your throat, words that had been festering for years, rotting inside you like something diseased. You tried to get yourself in control.

“You made me hate myself.” Your voice cracked, and Kento’s body jerked like you had struck him. “You made me hate being a mother. You made me despise my own existence. And I still stayed. Because I thought…” your voice shattered, ragged and broken. “I thought you’d come back to me.”

Nanami Kento’s face collapsed, his breath stuttering as if your words had reached inside his chest and torn something vital from him. His lips parted, but no sound came, just a shuddering breath, just pain.

“I never stopped loving you.” he croaked, but his voice was so weak. So desperate.

You laughed. But it wasn’t humorous at all. There was nothing joyous about the laughter that comes from a broken soul. Instead, it was agony, twisted and sharp, curling around your ribs and bleeding out into the air between you.

“Yes, you did.” The words came like a death sentence, final and absolute. “Because you couldn’t do anything but hate me. Because I caged you in a life that made you just as miserable.”

Kento couldn’t help but flinch, and you felt it. You felt the way your words carved into him, felt the way his entire body recoiled, as if only now he was beginning to understand the damage he had done.

“You looked at me like I was nothing. Like I was some chore you had to come home to. Like I was a burden. Like I was the reason you were miserable.” Your breath caught, but you pushed through, letting the poison spill, letting the truth burn through the air between you. 

“You hated me, Kento. And I felt it. I felt it every single day. I felt it when you wouldn’t touch me. I felt it when you came home smelling like someone else. I felt it when you rolled over in bed and pretended I didn’t exist.”

Kento let out a ragged breath, but he couldn’t speak. Couldn’t argue. Couldn’t deny a single thing. Because it was all true. He had done this. And now, he was paying for it. He has to pay for it. That’s the only way he could ever make it all better.

“Baby, please—”

“Don’t call me that.”

Your voice was sharp, final, cutting through him like a blade. Kento froze. Because fuck. You meant it. You weren’t his baby anymore. Because you had decided it yourself. You can’t continue being miserable. Not when Satoru had shown you what joy could ever look like.

“…I didn’t mean to hurt you.” he rasped, voice wrecked, broken beyond repair. “I didn’t mean—”

“But you did.” you cut in, your voice rising, trembling with the sheer force of it. “You did, Kento.”

He looked so small. So fragile.

But you didn’t stop at that.

Your anguish had been waiting for this.

“You killed me.” Your breath caught, your whole body trembling as the rage inside you cracked open. “And you just.....” A sob tore from your throat, your entire form crumpling. “You just watched it happen.”

Kento sucked in a sharp breath, shaking his head, but you weren’t finished. You don’t think you ever will be. You fix your composure once again, trying to ensure that you would not go off and break down in front of him.

“You watched me rot away. You watched me turn into nothing. And you didn’t stop. You just kept cheating. You just kept killing me. And I let it happen because I thought......” your voice cracked painfully. “I thought if I could just hold on, you’d love me again.”

Kento opened his mouth, but you didn’t let him speak.

“But you never did.” Your voice was barely above a whisper now, drained, defeated. “You never fucking did.”

Nanami Kento was sobbing. His entire body wracked with shudders, face buried in his hands like he could hide from the truth, like he could make it go away. He could never make any of this go away.

“I did love you—”

“You stopped loving me when you couldn’t have a wife and a mother for your children.” You whispered to him. “You stopped loving me when I couldn’t be the woman you thought I could be. We both knew that.”

The words were sharp, merciless. You were gone. Your voice was wrecked. Your body crumpled. Your face drenched in tears.

“I died, Kento.” you whispered, the words so quiet, yet they carried the weight of a decade’s worth of pain. “I died a thousand times. Every time you fucked someone else. Every time you looked at me like I was nothing. Every time you come home smelling like another woman. I died. And you didn’t care. You just let me rot.”

Kento’s whole body was trembling now, his hands in his hair, his face contorted with something close to agony.

“And now?” You laughed. And god, it was empty. “…Now you know how it feels.”

Kento collapsed. His whole body sank into his chair, breaking apart, sobbing like he was dying, like the weight of everything he had done was finally crushing him. And you didn’t even flinch. Because you were already dead, and now he wasn’t the one bringing you back to life. It was Satoru.

“…Who was it?” he choked, barely able to get the words out.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does.”

“No, it doesn’t, Kento.” Your voice was hollow. Shattered. Like there was nothing left inside you to give. “Because I’m not sorry.”

Kento screamed. Like he was burning alive. Like he was finally feeling the agony he had inflicted on you for over a decade. The therapist could only watch as you gathered your belongings and looked at your pathetic husband.

Kento Nanami finally knew how it felt.

And it was killing him over and over.

And perhaps that was your greatest revenge.

IT FELT SO DIFFERENT NOW THAT ALL OF THAT WAS OUT. Perhaps that’s why the drive home was silent. Yet it was not the peaceful kind. It was the suffocating kind, taking you over.

The kind that coiled around your throat and pressed into your chest, heavy and unbearable. And it will never be the same again. That was what the future held now. Nothing but misery for both of you.

Kento’s knuckles were bone-white on the steering wheel, his grip so tight it looked like he might snap it in half. His jaw was clenched, his breathing uneven, but he said nothing. You sat beside him, motionless, hands limp in your lap. 

There was nothing left to say. And if there was, you were too exhausted to even allow yourself to say anything. You can tell Kento was just the same. Perhaps that’s why you were sure there could be nothing that could ever be discussed like that again between you and Kento. 

Nothing would change the way you both had suffered in each other’s arms. And just as much, nothing that hasn't already been ripped out of you in that sterile therapy room, nothing that wouldn’t just reopen wounds that had long since festered. You would just be miserable.

When you finally pulled into the driveway, the house loomed in front of you. It was ever so silent, sickeningly empty. In this so-called home. Or at least, it used to be. Nothing of it was left to even be considered a home.

The weight of it settled between you as Kento stepped inside first, lingering just past the threshold like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to cross it anymore. His shoulders were rigid, his chest rising and falling in slow, shaky breaths.

He didn’t look at you when he finally spoke. “…We should talk about the divorce.”

His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. 

You laughed. Not because it was funny. Because it was pathetic.

“Like the therapist said?” you scoffed, your voice cold, edged with something bitter and exhausted.

Kento swallowed hard. His throat bobbed once, twice—like he was trying to force the words down. “…Yeah.”

Silence.

He still wouldn’t look at you. And when you finally met his gaze, you almost wished you hadn’t. He looked sick. He looked like he couldn’t talk about it without having to deal with the misery of it all again.

Your husband’s face was pale, drawn tight with something that looked dangerously close to grief. His eyes were sunken, rimmed with exhaustion, his entire body stiff like he was holding himself together through sheer force of will.

“…Do you want one?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

Kento’s breath hitched. His face twisted—like the question had physically hurt him. “…I don’t know,” he admitted, voice breaking.

Silence all over again. It stretched between you, hollow and endless. Kento exhaled sharply, pressing his fingers into his temples before dragging his hands down his face. He looked like a man unraveling.

“I don’t want to hurt you anymore, [name].” he said finally, voice wrecked. “I don’t want to trap you here. I don’t want to be the reason you hate your life.”

His breath wavered, thick with something desperate. “So if you…” He swallowed hard, looking at you now—really looking at you. “If you want to leave, I won’t stop you.”

“Kento—”

His voice cracked. “I swear to god, I won’t stop you.”

Your throat locked up. “…But do you want me to leave?”

Kento’s face was completely crumpled. His entire body folded in on itself, his breath stuttering, his eyes filling so fast it looked like the weight of the world had just crashed into him. He looks at you, the shell of the man he used to be.

“No.” he sobbed, his voice wrecked. “No, I don’t.”

There it was.There it fucking was. The ugly truth. The selfish desperation. Kento didn’t want you to leave. Even after everything. Even after the cheating. Even after all the ruin. He still wanted you. Even if you would both be miserable.

“…Then why are you saying this?”

Kento swallowed thickly, his hands trembling at his sides. “Because you hate me, [name].” he choked, his face completely destroyed. “I can’t keep making you miserable. I can’t keep being the reason you…” His voice cracked. “…You  keep being miserable and despise yourself.”

He exhaled sharply, a ragged, broken sound. “So if leaving me will make you happy again, then please. Please do it. Just….” His voice broke. “Just don’t stay here if it’s killing you.”

You just stared at him. The man who had spent years tearing you apart. The man who had crushed you into dust and expected you to survive it. The man who, even now, was finally ready to lose you just so you wouldn’t suffer anymore.

“…And what about you?”

Kento’s throat collapsed. “What?”

“What if I leave?” you croaked, your voice so small, so fragile. “What happens to you, Kento?”

Silence bellows the world all of the sudden.

Kento’s face completely crumbled. “…Then I die alone.” he finally admitted, his voice shattering. “I will never remarry. I will….I will continue with the misery of my own creation.”

You froze. “.....You don’t have to.”

“I deserve that.” Kento sobbed, his body wrecked. “I deserve to die alone. I deserve to rot in this house without you. I deserve to feel everything I put you through. So if you…” His voice cracked painfully. “If you want to leave, I won’t stop you. I swear to god, I won’t stop you.”

You couldn’t even breathe. You could see it. Kento’s despair, one he had made for himself. The way his body crumpled. The way his chest caved in. The way he was already mourning you, like he knew you were already gone. And it should’ve felt vindicating. It should’ve felt like justice. And yet, it just felt sickening.

“…I don’t know if I can do this anymore.” you finally croaked, your voice wrecked.

And Kento completely broke. “…I know.” he sobbed, his entire body collapsing.

Silence. Unforgiving. Endless.

“…I still love you.” Kento’s face obliterated.

“…I know.”

More silence in the utter destruction of twenty-five years.

“…Do you still love me?” you finally whispered.

Kento let out the most painful sound you’d ever heard. “…Yes,” he sobbed, his voice completely wrecked. “Yes, I do. I never stopped. I just—” 

His voice shattered. “I just didn’t know how to fix it. I didn’t know how to love you right. And I killed you. I destroyed you. And I don’t….” His voice broke apart, sharp and desperate. “I don’t deserve you anymore. Not like I used to.”

You couldn’t take it. You just turned and walked toward the bedroom. Because god, you couldn’t look at him. Not like this. Not when he was falling apart at the seams. Not when his face was wrecked with something so raw, so painful, that it made your chest tighten in a way you weren’t ready to face.

“…Where are you going?” Kento choked.

“To bed.” you rasped. “.....I’m exhausted.”

Silence was the commonality you both have more than any sort of love now. You went ahead and changed out of your clothes. Soon enough, Kento just followed, still dressed in his clothes. He didn’t say a word as he changed into something else. 

He stands there for a moment, unsure. When he did move, his footsteps were hesitant, barely there, like he was afraid to take up too much space. Afraid to breathe wrong. Afraid to do something, anything that would send you running out that door for good.

And when you climbed into bed, still completely distant, like you were already halfway gone, Nanami Kento stood there for only a second, hovering at the edge of the mattress like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to stay.

Then, slowly, hesitantly… he slid in beside you. It was so pathetic. The way his hand shook when he reached out to touch your waist. The way his face completely crumpled when you didn’t respond. The way his body broke apart when you just lay there, staring at the ceiling, like he wasn’t even there.

“…I’m sorry.” he croaked.

You didn’t answer.

“…I’m so fucking sorry.”

And still, you didn’t answer.

So Kento just continued to curl into your side. And you do not stop him. You do not stop him from trying to gain some warmth from your body, as though it was the last time. Like he was dying. Like he was trying to cling to your ghost.

He then starts sobbing. Not the quiet kind. The soul-shattering kind. Just gripping you, holding onto you like you’d disappear if he loosened his grip for even a second. It was as though someone had gone and died.

“Please don’t leave me.” he choked, his entire body trembling, caving in, coming undone. “Please don’t leave me. I’ll fix it. I’ll fix everything. I’ll do anything, baby, please. Just don’t leave me.”

You just stared at the ceiling. Completely empty from the thought. You were exhausted from loving him. Perhaps that is you were so certain of the truths you had long believed. You had long walked past that door and left.

Even if you still love him, you knew you couldn’t be with him like this. 

Not ever again. You deserve better than that. 

You deserve someone like Satoru.

"I THINK PEOPLE LIKE US IN MARRIAGES, especially ones like ours, were always meant to be indestructible. At least that’s what people want to think of it as." You said almost nonchalantly, a faint smile drawing on your face.

"People have had expectations about your story to be perfect, no?" The interviewerer leads, looking at you with intrigued eyes. "That was what was expected out of a marriage with someone living in fame."

You nodded, leaning forward to be more comfortable in your chair. " Correct. That's what people wanted. A grand love story, perfectly composed, enduring through all things. But love isn’t like that, is it? It’s not a script you can follow forever. It changes, it falters. And sometimes, it fades."

You sit back in the chair, hands folded in your lap. The interviewer watches you carefully, waiting for you to go on. You glance away for a moment, gathering your thoughts, before your voice softens.

"We started out well. He was... everything people assume he is. Steady. Thoughtful. Reliable. And in the beginning, that felt like safety. Like something I could hold onto. But over time, that steadiness began to feel like distance. Like a fortress I wasn’t allowed into."

“Does this mean you don’t blame him?” The interviewer asks, pen tightening in the hand. “I mean, I know you have not revealed everything and anything, Mrs. Nanami. But you don’t blame him for everything?”

"I didn’t blame him for anything until the cheating. I think that’s quite interesting, isn’t it?” You say in a soft whisper. “In some ways, I think there is no great villain in the story, no explosive fight that shattered everything at once.  Even with my sufferings in the marriage. Just a slow unraveling, with every message of sorry women. It’s intriguing and heartbreaking all at once.”

“You got messages from all the women?” The interviewer’s brow furrows. 

You smiled somberly. “One after the other. But not everyone. Some were not sorry. And I don’t blame them. But I’m grateful for that. They gave me a gradual realization that we were living beside each other, rather than with each other. Like we were both carrying the weight of this marriage but never quite meeting in the middle."

The interviewer tilts their head. "Did you feel lonely?"

You exhale, a sad smile tugging at your lips. "Yes. And the worst part is… so did he. I think he knew we hated each other and hated me. I could see it, even if he wouldn’t say it."

"Do you really believe your husband resents you, mam?" The interviewer quizzed you, frankly. "In the truest of senses?"

"Well, there wouldn't be more than three people in a marriage if it wasn't true." You mewled back to them, laughing softly. "The way he stayed out later, the way conversations became shorter. We were both retreating, both trying to pretend we weren’t. But silence is loud in a marriage. And ours was deafening. That made it obvious."

“You’re nicer than most wives, Mrs. Nanami.” The interviewer looks at you, a stunned look echoes. “Such a long time of your life was stolen from you, if this is the case. I mean, to stay silent about it for so long. It is a pandemonium of misery.” 

There’s a pause, the kind that hangs heavy in the air. “Hm. But that's only 'cause I've escaped it now. I have no more anger in my heart because I’ve released it all. My life isn’t over, well....at least I hope it still isn’t. Of course, I do not know where to begin. But I’m sure I’ll find everything little by little.”

The interviewer hesitates before asking, "Yet you’re still together?"

"For now. But sometimes, staying feels like waiting for something to break. And I think we both know… it already has." Your empty fingers trace the edge of where your wedding band was at one point. “That’s just what marriage is sometimes.”

"Twenty-five years is a long time, isn’t it? It sounds impressive when you say it out loud. A quarter of a century. Enough time to build a life, raise a family, grow old together. But do you know what twenty-five years is? It's quite a long time to be lonely."

You pause, fingers grazing the armrest of your chair, as if searching for something to anchor yourself to. The interviewer doesn’t interrupt. They wait, giving you space to find the words. Because how does one describe such a quarter of a human life?

"At first, I thought marriage was about endurance. That if you stayed, if you worked hard enough, if you were patient enough, everything would eventually be alright. I told myself that love was about sacrifice. About quiet suffering. And so I endured. All of it."

"I endured the nights spent waiting up, pretending not to hear the whispers that followed him. I endured the rumors, the looks of pity from people who knew before I did.” Your voice drops to something softer, something almost fragile. “And when did I find out? I endured that too. Because what else was I supposed to do? Walk away from twenty-five years? From everything we built, from the life we created together?"

You shake your head, almost laughing at the thought. "People think cheating is about passion, about reckless desire. But sometimes, it’s just... boredom. Resentment. Hatred. The slow, creeping realization that the person you married doesn’t make you feel alive anymore. Even if they gave everything in the marriage. And I think that’s what happened to him.”

The interviewer nodded back at you, sighing. “And how does that make you feel, Mrs. Nanami? That this was the case for almost all the years of your marriage and having to pretend that it wasn't? In some ways, you seem to be more veteran actor than most and you played well at it.”

“Somewhere along the way, I can only describe it as me becaming a part of the furniture." You retort, thinking of how to word this thought in your head. "You could say that I was comfortable. Definitely reliable."

"I see. It was like you didn't feel if you were even something beyond something so transparent and invisible."

"Yes, I guess you can say that. I was always there. But like most, he wanted something new. He gets bored." You say after letting yourself think for a while. You smiled. “And I was the stable. I wasn’t exciting for him to enjoy anymore. And he leads a glamorous life. You all know that. That’s what the life of the star is.”

There’s a sharp inhale from the interviewer. "And what did you do about it?"

Your gaze meets theirs, steady despite the weight of your words. "Nothing. I did nothing. I smiled for the cameras. I held his hand at premieres. I played the role of the devoted wife because that’s what was expected of me."

The interviewerer nodded. "Why did you feel like you had to keep playing that role over and over again? You always said the world has no place in your bed. But now that you are speaking on it.....How do you feel about it?"

"That's a good question." You nodded back at the interviewerer. "I think it's more or so because the world doesn’t want to hear that a marriage like ours, the kind that looks perfect on the outside, is built on silence and suffering. They want the illusion. And I gave it to them."

"I told myself it was for the children. For stability. For dignity. But really? It was because I didn’t know who I was without him.” You let out a slow breath, shaking your head. As though you were disappointed in yourself. “When you’ve spent your whole life being somebody’s wife, you start to forget who you were before that. And maybe that was the most miserable part of all. Realizing I had made myself so small just to keep this marriage alive."

The interviewer hesitates before asking, "Do you regret staying?"

Your lips pressed together, as if weighing the question carefully. Finally, you tell them an answer.  "I regret losing myself. I regret thinking that being chosen was the same as being loved. And most of all, I regret believing that staying silent made me strong. Because real strength isn’t in enduring misery, it’s in knowing when to walk away."

"People always say, ‘Why didn’t you leave?’ as if it’s that simple. As if walking away from twenty-five years, from a shared history, from a life built together, is as easy as packing a suitcase and closing the door behind you."

The interviewer continues to jots down what you say. You pause, folding your hands together, the weight of the past pressing down on your shoulders. They do not interrupt you. Thus, you continued.

"But leaving isn’t just a decision. It’s a destruction. It’s tearing apart everything you’ve known, everything you’ve built, and stepping into the unknown. And the unknown is terrifying, isn’t it? So instead, you convince yourself to stay. You tell yourself it’s not that bad. That it could be worse. That you’ll fix it."

"In some ways, it becomes quite the habit doesn't it? If you keep telling yourself this, it becomes something unescapable."

"That's right. That's why you can just go on one day and you wake up realizing that you’ve spent years, decades even living in a marriage that only exists in photographs and press statements. A fiction you created in yourhead. A marriage that is alive to the world, but dead behind closed doors."

The interviewer leans in, their voice careful. "When did you first know it was truly over?"

"I think I knew long before I admitted it to myself.” A humorless smile tugs at your lips. “Maybe it was the first time I caught him lying. Maybe it was the first time I looked at him and felt nothing at all. Or maybe it was the day I stopped waiting for him to come home."

“You must have wanted to have a way out.” 

"There were so many moments I could have left.” You admitted to them. “When I should have left. But I told myself I had a duty to this marriage. To our family. To our children. To the version of myself that once believed in forever."

The interviewer watches you carefully. "And now?"

You lift your head, eyes clearer than they’ve been in years. "Now, I realize that duty shouldn’t come at the cost of your own happiness. That silence isn’t dignity. That staying in a broken marriage doesn’t mean you fought harder—it just means you suffered longer."

"I think, in the end, I stayed because I wanted to believe that love could survive anything.” A pause. “That if I just held on a little longer, if I just endured a little more, we would find our way back to each other. But love shouldn’t be something you have to endure when it doesn’t work out, should it?"

The interviewer shakes their head. “No, not at all.”

"Right." You say softly. "It shouldn’t."

Interview leaned back, looking at you. Almost satisfied. “Then what do you plan to do now, Mrs. Kento?”

"Now, I leave." You smiled at him, a genuine one. “For good.”

The words land like a final act, like the closing of a book that the world thought would go on forever. But fairy tales always end, don’t they? Some with love, some with loss. And some like yours, with the quiet realization that the dream was never really yours to begin with.

The interviewer exhales, as if they too have been holding their breath, waiting for this moment. "That’s… final."

"Yes, of course." you say, nodding. "There is no going back."

"Does he know?"

"Oh, he knows. Maybe not in the way you’d expect.” You smile, slow and knowing. “There was no screaming, no dramatic confrontation. No shattered glass or slamming doors. We already finished that at therapy…..there was just silence when I moved out. That same silence that’s been lingering between us for years. And in that silence, he knew. We both did."

The interviewer studies you carefully, as if trying to place the expression on your face. "You don’t look angry anymore, I suppose. More joyous."

"Because I am." You laughed at the interviewer’s words. “I am happy about leaving. So, why feel hatred and anger again?”

"Not even after everything?"

You let out a soft breath, tilting your head. "Anger would mean I still care about what I spent twenty–five years suffering. That I still have something left to give to the marriage. But I don’t. Not anymore."

The weight of those words settles between you. The interviewer shifts slightly in their chair, adjusting their posture, as if bracing for what comes next. The interviewer is silent for a long moment. 

"What do you want now?" They asked you softly.

You smile, and this time, it’s real. The first real smile in a long time. "I want peace. I want mornings that aren’t heavy with unspoken words. I want a life that is mine, not just an extension of his. I want to wake up and not feel like I’m drowning in a marriage that’s already ended."

A pause. Then, a quiet, knowing laugh. "And I want a holiday. A long one. With a good whiskey on hand, of course."

The interviewer chuckles, but you see the way their expression softens. "Do you think you’ll find love again?"

"I think… I want to find myself first. I’ve spent twenty-five years being someone’s wife.” You tilt your head, considering it. Smiling to yourself, thinking about Satoru. “I think it’s time to find out who I am without him. But….It’s not out of the question."

The interviewer notices your smile and finds a twinkle in their eyes. But they do not ask further. They nodded at you. “Well, I hope that it all works out for you, Mrs. Nanami.”

“Thank you.” You shyly smiled at the interviewer. “But can I ask you a favor?”

“Anything, mam.”

“Call me [Last Name] [Name] when you type this all out. You know, for the world to read."

epilogue

Higuruma Hiromi sighed tiredly as he started to type the article that was set to go to print in just a few hours. His fingers moved methodically across the keyboard, the soft clicking, clacking of keys filling the quiet room. 

He inserted a picture into the document. It was a picture of Nanami [Name] and Nanami Kento in some photoshoot they did together. He carefully adjusted the placement before continuing his work. It had to be good or the printing department would kill him.

Just as he was about to refine the wording of the next paragraph, his phone buzzed against the desk. With an exasperated sigh, he reached for it, barely glancing at the caller ID before answering.

“Hello? This is Chief Editor of Tokyo Calling, Higurama.” he muttered, rubbing his temple.

On the other end, Satoru’s voice came through, light and easy, as if he weren’t calling at the worst possible time. “Hiromi–kun! Just wanted to say thanks for your hard work.”

Higuruma shook his head, already annoyed. “What do you want, Gojo?”

Satoru chuckled. “Come on, can’t I just call to express my appreciation?”

“You never call just to appreciate me.” Higuruma deadpanned, leaning back in his chair. “You want to ask about the article.”

“Bingo!” Satoru said cheerfully. “It’s coming out soon, right?”

Higuruma rolled his eyes, shifting his gaze back to the screen. “You already know that. You’re the one who gave me the information.”

Satoru laughed, entirely unbothered. “Still, thanks for your hard work.”

Higuruma exhaled sharply, shaking his head as he hung up. “Whatever.” he muttered, already reaching for his coffee cup as he prepared to get back to work.

Higuruma stood up, stretching his sore shoulders as his gaze drifted across his office. Papers were scattered across his desk. All the printed interviews, transcriptions, and photographs, all laid out in organized chaos. 

Among them were undeniable proofs: Nanami Kento’s alleged infidelity, the person he was with, and even more damning details that hadn’t yet been written into the article.

He walked over to the bulletin board on the wall, where a few key photographs were pinned up. There were quite a few Gojo Satoru seemed to keep tabs on. Nanami Kento in a dimly lit restaurant, seated across from someone who was most definitely not Nanami [Name]. 

Another picture captured a fleeting touch, hands brushing together in a way that seemed far too intimate to be innocent. Below it, neatly typed notes, detailed accounts from anonymous sources, whispers of meetings that shouldn't have happened, moments that had gone unnoticed until now.

Higuruma rubbed his temples, sighing. He wasn’t the kind of person who enjoyed digging into people’s personal lives, but a story was a story, and this one was already on its way to publication. It was big. It was scandalous. It would get attention. And Gojo Satoru was happy to provide it for him. 

Well, he did owe him a little bit of help. He can’t do anything about it. It was annoying, to be sure. But the idiot made up for it by making Higurama a lot of money. That made up for the troubles and they were now even.

His phone buzzed again, this time with a message. He picked it up and saw Satoru’s name flashing on the screen.

Satoru: So… Do you think this will hit big?

Higuruma narrowed his eyes, his grip tightening on the phone. He glanced back at the evidence, then at the half-finished article glowing on his computer screen. This wasn’t just a report. This was a revelation that would change everything.

After getting his cup of coffee, he continues to work on it. Higuruma Hiromi finished the report a little while later as twelve am strikes on the clock, his fingers hovering over the keyboard as he reread the final draft. His eyes flicked across the damning headline once more:

Nanami [Name] and Nanami Kento Are Separating!

A breath left him. One he hadn’t realized he was holding. He purses his lips softly and then nods. He was done. It had to get sent away. Carefully, he clicked Send, dispatching the article to the publishing department. There was no turning back now.

Minutes later, he stood by the printing machines, watching as the pages rolled out, each one carrying his words, his investigation, the weight of undeniable proof. The bold letters of the headline practically screamed from the front page, demanding attention.

This wasn’t just another article. 

It was going to cause a stir. 

A public unraveling of a seemingly perfect marriage.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, already expecting Gojo Satoru once more. His breath hitches as he reads the text. His lips pursed into a flat line. Isn't he a fool to love this much? To love to the point of destruction?

Higurama shakes his head and takes a deep breath, calming himself. He shouldn't go into a tangent about this. He did his job. He did his part. And now Satoru and him were even. He shouldn't question things he had no business about.

Satoru: Nice work~ My beloved darling is free, all thanks to you!

Higuruma Hiromi exhaled sharply, tucking his phone away. He had done his job.

Now, the storm was coming.

And no one can stop it now.

[shmpxx]

NOTHING BUT A BULLY — g.s

⛤ bully! gojo satoru x fem! reader

you’re a victim of gojo satoru and his annoying tactics, it’s hard getting away from him but probably not this time.

cw. smut. mentions of non-con(photo taking). dub-con. virginity loss. oral (f.receiving). creampie. unprotected sex. fingering. dacryphilia. breeding. public sex. overstimulation. 18+!

wc: 2k

a/n: it’s been a minute bc I’ve been picky on what i write and i got inspiration from bully!gojo fics I’ve read so I’m writing this one!

Something about you was different, in a way that gojo couldn’t stop teasing you, he could never get bored even if you wished and prayed there be a day where he grew tired of poking at you.

He purposely trips you down the hallways or acts like he doesn’t see you and intentionally shoves you with his shoulder. Makes derogatory comments about you where he makes sure you’re listening. Stealing your lunch which he probably doesn’t even eat, he just wants to make your life miserable. Slaps your books out of your hands and watch you pick them back up while he chuckles to himself, if your lucky geto would be there and help you and excuse gojo’s actions. He would also secretly takes pictures under your skirt of your panties probably jerking off to them later.

He does get a little jealous when he sees someone else talking to you, he’ll always come around throwing his arm over your shoulder or even pushing you forward.

You tried to avoid him as much as possible, when you see him you try to walk the other direction he was coming from. He always know you try to avoid him as well and sometimes he still catch you. “Trynna hide from me?” He deviously smiles.

It wasn’t that he hated you, he just loved to tease and make fun of you. He made sure of that when you were both alone in a classroom.

He had you sitting on a desk with his hand slipping past your skirt to grope your thigh and ass. He grins to himself spreading your thighs for him to get in between them as he hungrily kissed your lips. His other hand on the back of your neck preventing you from pulling away from him even though you tried, fingers tugging on his shirt for desperation of air.

There wasn’t a day where every time he saw you, he thought of kissing you and touching you indecently. Now the time has come. His sexual fantasies of you are finally coming true.

Why were you letting him do this to you? After months of bullying and torture, you were letting him do whatever he wanted and you didn’t know why.

“You don’t know how much i wanted this” He moved down to your neck, ravishing your neck not caring that even after people would see the marks on your neck only to embarrass you.

You jolt when you feel his fingers press against your clit behind the fabric of your panties.

You kept thinking to yourself, you should stop this now. You can’t have gojo satoru control you like this. Not here.

“don’t want to anymore-“ you let out.

You pull away seeing his face in a pout expression, “aw don’t be like that” He moves your panties to the side, spreading your folds apart before entering his two fingers inside and feel the stretch of your walls by the intrusion of his fingers, letting out a cry and cling onto him. Your muscles tightening around him by the weird sensation he brought you.

“Your so tight, i bet your a virgin huh? Saving yourself for me right?” He whispers into your ear whilst pumping his fingers into your hole.

His fingers curl into the right spongy spot inside you making you wail loudly, smirking to himself watching your aroused expressions.

Looking at you as you were such a inexperienced sweet thing he loves that he’s toying you like this.

he speeds his pace faster into your cunt with also his thumb rubbing circles on your clit bringing you a whole new sensation you never felt before, you feel the tears breaking through your closed shut eyes. The tingling feeling bubbling up inside you, you didn’t know what that was, afraid of it.

“No! No! Wait-” you beg with a moan, you were about to reach something. Reach something you don’t know of and you felt complete emptiness. You were confused.

His drenched fingers covered in your arousal left your hole, instead gojo hooks onto the elastic of your panties and strips them down but you stop him from doing shaking your head no.

“you don’t want me to make you feel good?” He tilts his head at you.

“I..” you didn’t know what to say, your cunt feeling in ache of touch again but realization hit you that your in a classroom doing such activities in public.

“You want me to make you feel good right?” He stills brings your panties down dangling off your one ankle.

Apart of you wanted to say no but without thinking he had you wrapped around his finger like you were entranced that you nodded yes that got him smiling from ear to ear.

“I know you feel sore don’t you? I can kiss it better” Subconsciously you leaned back onto your palms when his hands under your thighs pushed them up more for him to gain more access as you watch him dip his head between making your heart ponder at your chest.

You whimper feeling his lips giving you a gentle kiss on your clit and started off with soft kitten licks on your cunt.

His lips latching onto your clit, sucking and licking your sensitive area. The same feeling building up inside you again coming much faster than before causing you to break out a moan.

Giving him the signal to bury his tongue deep inside your walls and give you a hard suck one last time before you start feel an rippling pleasure throughout your body. You feel as if the air ultimately left your lungs and you try to catch your breath.

Gojo licking the creamy substance that came from you from his lips and your cunt, not even giving you a break to let you calm down and your clit becoming sensitive spasming uncontrollably from his tongue and your legs became like jelly. You try to buck your hips away from his mouth but you were to weak to do so. Letting out sweet sobs.

“sweet angel being so good for me” he brushes his thumb across your bottom lip leaning in to kiss you again.

Without a warning from him, you break away from his lips feeling the tip of his leaky cock rubbing between your swollen folds.

“Gojo-“ your hand on his shoulder stopping him from going any further.

“Just relax angel—if you let me, I’ll let you call me satoru” as if it were a deal for him to take away your purity.

Half of his cock disappear inside you, he couldn’t help but chuckle to himself as you clutch onto him for support, dipping your face into his chest and his shirt damp from your tears. It was different from his fingers, his dick was pushing aside your walls. An inch of pain engulfing you but only for a few seconds.

“Sweet thing it’s not even all the way in yet”

“Ah! Gojo! I-“ his hips slamming into you. Not giving you time to adjust his rhythm already being so rough. You can’t think other than him being so thick and how far he’s reaching deep inside you making your head spin. He was so hard too and impatient he couldn’t wait to fuck you.

“Please—you’re too rough” As if he would listen to you. He thrusts into you hard, skin slapping against each other, the sounds of squelching from your sobbing cunt and his cock bullying your walls you might end up in the shape of him. Your body bouncing and your breath hitching every second from his aggressive thrusts.

You wanted him to be gentler though did you want this at all? Your mind still can’t comprehend anything other than the sweet spot he hits repeatedly. You cry and whimper into his shoulder making cute noises to gojo’s ears, holding onto him as you heard him grunt and pant into your ear.

“Who knew a slut like you could be enjoying this?”

“That’s not—ah!” You couldn’t get your words out without being interrupted by each moan you kept choking out.

Gojo couldn’t get over the way you squeezed him tight every time he pushed in and out of gummy area, your hot soft walls. You were full of warmth and wetness, making his dick twitch already. Even the way you cling onto him and cry into his chest by the overwhelming pleasure was so cute.

He can even see the way you move against his hips knowing your so desperate for it and enjoying it even how many times you try to deny it he knows.

“I’m gonna cum inside okay? I want to so bad need to fill you up”

“No—don’t! ah!-h, don’t wanna-“ the familiar tingling came back again yet you felt as if you were gonna cum much harder than before. His hips hitting you faster at a brutal pace, his hand grabbing behind your lower back to pull your hips closer to his to hit deeper inside your cunt, his tip almost at your cervix you might go dumb.

“Can you imagine having kids together? wouldn’t that be nice?” Carrying a child of your bully would be the last thing you thought of.

Shaking your head no he is quickening his pace and his slams his hips on his last thrust, emptying his hot load into you as you also reached your second orgasm much harder than before, your gummy walls contracting around his girth. Your body trembles and you sob loudly tears damping his shirt at this point feeling full and warm of his cum in your tummy.

He pulled out and cum leaked from your hole dripping onto the desk. “aw your letting it all spill”

Your body goes limp and he decides to flip you on your stomach onto the desk, your ass hanging in the air though you feel as if your about to fall apart. He smiles to himself watching his cum stream from your cunt like it was his masterpiece. it was too much already but gojos hands finds your waist, you whine feeling pressure and his cum gush out, sticking his erect dick once again inside you. “I miss your pussy already and plus i want to cum inside you again and fill you up a little more, just be a good slut like you are okay?” He squeezes the plush of your ass.

“Gojo no-“

“Satoru…you earned it now and you earn a little more—hah” already thrusting inside your abused swollen cunt. It was so easy for him to slide in again and how you still feel so warm inside just how he likes it.

“Sa-toru” you moan and whine water filling your eyes and soaking your lashes. “I love it when you say my name” his voice in a raspy tone, throwing his head back, pleasure engulfing him whole. His essence oozing onto the floor.

He grabbed your thigh lifting your leg up for him to gain more access more control, you were onto your side holding onto the desk preventing yourself from slipping off. He just continues tormenting your body, reaching towards your clit and his thumb putting pressure onto it. You couldn’t do nothing but cry out, you were so overstimulated, you were weak and now his thumb adding a more electrifying sensation and you were about to achieve your third orgasm.

You would consider this torture, it was too good to handle at all once. Your head spinning, your out a breath only to make small noises.

“I’ll try to make this quick, just for you sweetheart” he continues his frantic thrusts, rubbing your clit in rough circles, your eyes roll back in too much ecstasy you were basically drowning in. He loved watching you all fucked out, his cock plunging you every second.

He finishes up and cums into you one last time, fire pooling low into your abdomen. Another warm load filling you up making you fuller, Gojo thinks to himself that this would not be the last time he will have you.

You thought gojo would change a bit towards you, that was a lie. The next day your shoes are missing and you can hear him laugh from the hallway down. You hate yourself for liking someone like him now but you can’t help it, you know he is just using you as his little toy and also messing with you at the same time. From your missing shoes to him freeing his cock and pressing it against your lips on your knees.

[lovebvni]

you and your s/o!

i’ve been sitting on this suggestion by @nyxtheghostshifting for way too long and i apologize. thank you for the submission! and i really just… i need to sit down and do this pac. i’ve missed this.

do not take this pac as something you have to do. you decide your future and all you do in your lives. i will not be upset if you don’t do this. this is all written by me in most likely a few hours so i apologize for any spelling errors.

now, that we got all the boring stuff out the way, take a deep breath and pick a pile.

[1, 2, 3]

pile 1, red hair

you and your s/o seem like the type to be sort of quiet and reserved. perhaps only one of you, but either way, one of you want to keep to yourself and struggle to be vulnerable with the other.

one of the scenario i’m getting is one of you saying “fuck off”, presumably because you wanted to be alone, but that’s not the true way you felt. you want to be with them. they want to be with you. but they feel as if they can’t. as if they aren’t good enough for you. i’m also getting wlw vibes? the “oil and water” scene from arcane keeps coming to mind. the person wants you to be successful and walks away because they feel like the hinder that. do you guys like angst? i feel like some of you may have scripted a temporary break up. there’s a lot of passion here though. it seems like you both truly want each other. flowers are also important here. golds and pinks.

i feel like they’re very possessive of you. they always want to be around you but they also want to display you. almost like a trophy wife/husband. they feel like you’re a reward, no, a blessing. again with flowers, golds and pinks. they felt lost without you. “you’re their sunshine”. they love talking about you, complimenting you to their friends, just letting them know everything you do is “perfect”. they see you as perfection.

they see a future with you. they want to do everything with you. they move in harmony with you. they match your energy a lot. they may not be the most outgoing but they will be for you. “anything for you.” guys they’re so sappy and cute. my autocorrect tried to correct that to sapphic so i do see wlw !

pile 2, swimming upwards

you guys cuddle a lot. on the couch, in your bed, at a friends house, your bodies are always tangled together. take that as you will. i get kinda black cat energy from both of you? you guys procrastinate together. you spend so much time together, that what needs to be done rarely does get done. perhaps you and this person should shift to a wr together or somewhere time doesn’t pass. that would be beneficial. you really get lost in each others energy, and it is so sweet. i honestly think you guys ground each other in a way, and tune out the world and make it “your own happy place.” especially if it wasn’t like that at first, before you two knew each other — but honestly you guys could’ve been childhood friends trying to support each other through thick and thin.

i don’t think there’s much room for polyamory here, not that there is in another pile, but i’m definitely getting like you two will not let anyone get between you. it’s kind of a joint at the hip relationship? you guys honestly worship each other and want to be better for each other.

you’re willing to sacrifice anything for each other. four of pentacles and ten of cups came out together. you guys may have children one day? i heard “across many lives.” this is honestly so sweet and innocent. are there issues wrapped up in that? yes, but everyone has that. i saw two people stepping across stones on a river. one takes the first leap, the other follows, and then takes the lead. you’re always encouraging each other to grow. keep doing that. it’s so sweet.

pile 3, pink dress

a wish come true. one of you guys wished for this connection. it’s other worldly. you wished on a star, threw a coil in a well, prayed, whatever. there manifestation in this. you both wished on this during similar points, similar times of struggle, then meet each other at the perfect time.

i can’t even lie, the way these cards came out is insane. the well came out, then ten of swords reversed on the bottom, ace of swords reversed on the top, then knight of swords and six of wands. it’s like you guys had both been wishing for this, fell into hardship at the same time, then, obviously, came together at the perfect time. you guys compliment each other perfectly and it’s super duper interesting. i’m wondering if this is a divine connection. i really think it is! but again, i don’t like putting that thought in peoples minds. you can use your discretion to figure that out

[musingsofahufflepuff]

Bloody Lips and Bruised Egos

Mattheo Riddle x Theodore Nott; fluff/angst

summary: when Mattheo gets in another fight, his best friend takes it upon himself to patch him up. Theodore is just his best friend…right?

a/n: when i tell you i’m a feral, rabid animal for this ship, that doesn’t even begin to cover it. yes, there will be more. god i love gay panic

Mattheo hisses as the antiseptic hits his wound with just a bit too much force. The movements are clumsy and unpracticed but he grits his teeth through it anyway. In front of him with his eyebrows furrowed is Theo, intense blue eyes staring down one of the many cuts on his face. Theodore lets out a frustrated string of expletives in Italian, or at least, what Mattheo thinks are expletives. He’s not entirely sure. But what he is sure, Theo has clearly never played nurse before.

“Theo—”

“Merda! I’ve got it Matt.”

He continues to grumble under his breath as he tries to fix the blood he managed to smear across Mattheo’s face worse than the fight had.

“Hold still!”

“I am!”

But instead of being frustrated like he probably should have been, Mattheo was trying not to laugh at how seriously Theo was taking this. If anything, it was kind of cute?

“Teddy—”

“So help me God, Mattheo.”

“What! I didn’t say anything! Your bedside manner is atrocious, Theo. Have you never cleaned a couple cuts before?”

Theodore’s hand stops its movements, eyes flicking up to meet his from where they were focused on his cheek. Mattheo holds his breath as they stare each other down. Because damn it, no one can intimidate him like his—Theo can. Mattheo breaks the staring match as he shakes his mental slip of the tongue away, praying his cheeks aren’t on fire.

“This time is different,” Theo’s voice cuts through the tense silence, pulling Mattheo from his thoughts. He shoots him a questioning look, not even needing to ask how?

“It’s you, dumbass.” There’s his answer but it just leaves Matt more confused. Theo must have picked up on the slight tilt of his head, curls shifting on his forehead, because the taller boy sighs. “Maledetto idiota. I worry about you,” it’s punctuated with a flick to Mattheo’s forehead, making him blink and pull his head back in surprise. “Oh.”

Then like it never happened, Theo is back to cleaning his wounds, gentler this time. The touch is almost feather-light, like he’s scared of hurting Mattheo further. Theo works in silence until Mattheo speaks up again; his tone dropped down, no longer making an attempt at banter. Vulnerable.

“You didn’t have to do this y’know. I could’ve done it myself… or gone to Pomfrey.” His gaze is locked on his lap, head still tilted up for Theo to do his thing. There’s a few more beats of quiet and Mattheo doesn’t even have to look up to know Theo’s trying to figure out what he wants to say.

“You got these because of me. I should be the one cleaning you up.” There it is.

Brown eyes flick up to meet blue ones, so much passing between them without a word. “You didn’t make me deck that bastard in the face.”

Theo dodges the reassurance with a shrug. He traces over the worst of the gashes with his thumb, uncharacteristically soft. “I don’t think they’ll scar.”

Mattheo hums in response as he tries to push past the gushy-feely bullshit with some banter, “that’s good, wouldn’t want my face to get any uglier.”

Theo’s brows furrow again. “What are we doing Matt?”

Mattheo’s mouth goes dry, caught off guard by the question, “wha—what do you mean?”

“Are you just playing dumb? You know what I mean.” And damn it, Mattheo does know. The lingering glances, the sitting ever so slightly too close for two people that claim to hate physical contact, the late nights smoking together and talking about everything. Mattheo is intimately familiar with what Theodore is referring to. But he’d rather take another fist to the face than admit it out loud. And maybe part of him hoped his best mate felt the same and they’d never have to have this conversation.

But a quiet voice in the back of his head, the one he tries to shove away every single time it comes up, is glad Theo’s the one to say something. That maybe something can change and Mattheo can finally do the things he’s wanted to do. The things he’s longed for in the privacy of his four poster with the curtains drawn in the middle of the night. The things he’s yearned for since his stupid, stupid heart went and fell for the one person he couldn’t have. But instead of giving in, his walls come back up and he’s sliding off the edge of Theo’s bed.

“No, I’m not playing dumb, jackass. And next time, just let me handle the clean up. It’s not like I’m dying.”

Theo’s soft expression instantaneously evaporates, making Mattheo regret ever opening his stupid mouth. Hell, he wishes Theo would look mad, pissed, hit him, anything other than the cold, dead eyes he’s getting now. And he wants to apologize, he really does. But pride? ego? cowardice? holds him back.

So he does what he always does when it comes to Theo and this stupid little dance they’ve been doing all term. He runs away. And fuck, he really does feel like a coward. But he can’t—can’t what exactly? He’s not entirely sure.

Before he can make it to the door, Theo’s barking his name. “Mattheo! Wait.” And he’s barely given a moment to react.

Theo grabs him by the collar of his shirt and yanks him close. As their chests bump together, Mattheo’s eyes widen, heart thundering in his chest. The grip on his shirt slowly relaxes and is shifted to the back of his neck. Mattheo braces for a punch.

But instead he gets lips lightly pressing against his. And fuck he thinks his heart might stop. He’s experienced kisses before, heated make out sessions in broom closets and sloppy drunken ones at parties but nothing like this. This is gentle and tender and sweet in a way no one else has ever been with him. And he damn near melts.

His hands automatically come up to cup Theo’s face, a hint of scruff under his fingertips. Mattheo’s seen Theo kiss people before; passionate, like he’s trying to devour them whole, but this is different. He could have never anticipated Theo’s lips to be so soft, the movement like he’s scared Mattheo might break apart without warning. Maybe he will.

Before he can quite get addicted to this feeling—this sinful, heavenly feeling—Theodore’s pulling away. And it takes everything in Mattheo to not chase after his lips. Instead they stare at each other for a moment, breathing a little heavy and cheeks lightly flushed. Then Theo’s running a hand through his hair with a murmured curse under his breath and leaving the dorm. Taking Mattheo’s heart with him.

[ramhaiba]

𝖢𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀

Pairing- Yandere Bokuto x Reader MasterList

"But to Bokuto. It’s not just a crush, it’s love."

A/N- this is one of my drafts, so this is shorter than most of my work (might make a longer ver. of this fic in the future!)

Everyone knows Boktuo probably has a crush on you. The topic of Bokuto’s childish crush on you is spoken like taboo. There is a nonverbal agreement between the entire MSBY to refrain from acknowledging it because of its harmless yearning.

While Boktuo’s a great guy, the idea of getting into another workplace relationship sounds displeasing to you since your last one ended in a disaster, causing you to quit your job due to the uncomfortable work environment. 

That’s why you pray he doesn’t ask you to dinner or anything romantic related because the sight of a heartbroken Bokuto would haunt your dreams. But that is your future problem-At present, Bokuto seems to be ignorant of his feelings because if he did, he wouldn’t hesitate to show up to practice, a bouquet in his hands, confessing his attraction towards you. 

Thankfully in the present, Bokuto just thinks of you as a good friend- a good friend who he can’t get enough of, a good friend who he wants to spend all his time with. Sure- sometimes he gets a little moody when he catches you hanging around other people but that’s just a normal thing for good friends to feel right? Right?

He’s doing it again, he’s completely ignoring every responsibility he has so he can talk to you. The second you step into the gymnasium, he’s at your side so fast that you think he teleported. Bokuto would start blathering about the more random things, details about his day, his plans for the weekend, and family events. But he always complimented your appearance, regardless of whether you thought you looked like a mess. The conversation was getting too long.

You could see in the background that Atsumu was getting impatient, hands on his hips as his foot repeatedly tapped the ground.

A setter needs to train with their team. But Atsumu can’t exactly do that if his teammate is busy chatting up their manager. “Bokuto, that sounds really great but shouldn’t you get back to pratice?” you told Bokuto, trying to solve the issue. 

Boktuo tilted his head, a naive smile on his lips as he said “It’s fine, we can talk for five more minutes. Atsumu can wait.”

That was Atsumu's last straw, his eyebrows furrowing as his fingers curled into a fist at his side.

“Bokuto, could ya please stop flirting with your little girlfriend? Get yer ass back to the court, we have a game coming to prepare for” Atsumu huffed. You glance at Bokuto, noticing his dazed expression, it seems like gears in his brain are finally turning.

“Girl-friend?”Bokuto uttered in disbelief, his arms slumped forward. When his yellow eyes looked back at you, you noticed a slight blush crawling on his face, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he gulped.

“Bokuto-”

“I gotta pratice now, Y/n. Talk to you later” Bokuto interrupted, dashing back to the court. You looked at Atsumu, giving him the most pissed-off look because judging by Boktuo's sudden change in emotion- from happy-go-lucky to a bashful blushing ace, 

It looks like he finally realized why your friendship was so different from others.

But to Bokuto. It’s not just a crush, it’s love.

It’s all that stupid setter’s fault that Bokuto is acting all weird in front of you. The second pratice ends, you’re pulling Atsumu by his ear, dragging him to the locker room so you can curse at him.

“You just had to use the word ‘girlfriend.’ You ruined this whole thing, Miya” you shouted, cornering the blonde hair setter against a locker.

“Sorry- Sorry, c’mon it was in the heat of the moment” Atsumu huffed, averting his eyes in embarrassment. 

“God- I’m going to have to break that poor boy’s heart because of you” you sighed. “What’cha mean by that?” Atsumu asked.

“Well, knowing Bokuto- he’s probably going to ask me on a date. But I’ve kinda..sworn off of workplace romances permanently” you answered, the anger in your tone slowly fading.

Atsumu took a moment to think before opening his mouth,

“We can’t have him acting all heartbroken right now- a match is coming up and I seriously cannot set to a depressed Bokuto….So just make sure he can’t ask ya out then” Atsumu suggested.

“What do you mean by that” you questioned, unsure of what he was trying to get at. “Avoid him till this little crush burns out. If that doesn’t work, it won’t hurt to get a boyfriend, y’know?” Atsumu added.

You punched Atsumu’s arm for his last suggestion causing him to hiss.

 “You’re an asshole but avoiding him for a little while isn’t such a bad idea” you hummed. “Does that mean I’m forgiven” Atsumu huffed, rubbing his sore forearm. “For now” you replied.

—

Avoiding Bokuto was a lot harder than you expected it to be. When he attempted to greet you at practice, you’d straightforwardly tell him “ I have to go schedule the hotel reservations for the out-of-state game,” or you’d mention another responsibility you must fill. 

Either way, he would let out a noticeable pout every time you walked away, mumbling a weak “okay then.”

Then he’s trying to get your attention after practice, a nervous but excited expression on his face as he stands in front of you but you don’t let him utter a single word before reminding him that you have to go home quickly to do some laundry.

‘Laundry? Was laundry really more important than him?’

Bokuto wondered. He doesn’t understand why the love of his life is acting so strange. Maybe you’re not feeling well? Or you’re stressed.

Either way, Bokuto is showing up at your door, holding a gift basket, a big grin on his lips. 

“Bokuto? What's all of this” you asked, awkwardly as you opened the door for him.

“ Figured you’ve been stressed recently that’s why you’ve been acting so distant, so I made ya a little self-care basket.” Bokuto beamed, proudly holding the basket of assorted goods. Everything in that basket is expensive, you can tell by the popular brands of each bottle of lotion, candles, and sweets.

“ Thank you, Bokuto. But you didn’t have to do this” you responded, calmly as you carefully took the basket from his hand, trying your best not to come in contact with his fingertips.

“I don’t mind doing these things if it’s for you. I’m pretty sure I’d do anything for you” Bokuto laughed bashfully.

“ Well.. goodnight.” You mumbled, trying to close the door, but his foot interrupted its closing.

“ Actually, I was kinda meaning to ask you something”

Fuck- here it is, the moment you’ve been dreading.

“Y/n, after hearing what ‘Tsumu said on the court the other day, it kinda got me wondering about somethings” Bokuto commented, a bashful grin across his lips.

“W-what kind of things” you stuttered, trying to put up a fake smile as mentally you were dreading the worst.

“I think I wouldn’t mind- I wouldn’t at all mind being able to call you my girlfriend” Bokuto confessed.

Fuck- what do you do? He’ll be too upset to play for his match next week if you reject him. You’d be lying to him if you accepted his feelings and hurt him more when you admit the truth.

“Bokuto- I don’t think we should get into this conversation, it might distract you from your game that’s coming up” you suggested.

Bokuto leans his face closer to yours, only a centimeter apart causing your heart to race. “You look so nervous, Y/n” he pointed out, his fingers brushing over the apples of your cheeks.

 “And your cheeks… they feel so hot” he mumbled. “I-it’s nothing important, I’m fine You responded, swatting his hand away from your face, adverting your eyes from his unmoving glare. 

“At first I didn’t completely understand why you’ve been pushing me away, Y/n. But now I understand. It’s because you feel the same and you’re nervous about dating another co-worker. But I’m not like that guy, Y/n. I’d never treat you like trash. I’d never let you go” Bokuto confessed. He’s getting excited- too excited because he’s come up with a false reality where you’d reciprocated his feelings. 

“Bokuto, I’m sorry but I don’t- I don’t feel the same and I don’t think I ever will” you replied being forced to ruin his dream. His entire demeanor changes at your words. It was like a switch flipped in his brain. Once standing in front of you with a big grin now morphed into an emotionless expression, eyes dulling burning holes into you, fist clenched at his side.

“Are you saying I’m wrong?” Bokuto asked, trying to find out if he heard you correctly.

“I’m saying I don’t have romantic feelings for you, Bokuto. B-but I really cherish our friendship and I don’t mind still being friends after this” you responded. 

“I don’t want that. I don’t want to be friends” Bokuto commented, his hand curling over your doorframe, pushing himself into your apartment, every step he took forward caused you to walk backward.

“Bokuto, stop it- you’re scaring me,” you remarked, heart skipping as your back pressed against the wall. “I like you so much, Y/n. I really do and I think you could too. I just need to show you how good I can be to you-

For you”

[fatkish]

Demon Child Pt. 2

After the meeting, Gyomei walked back to his estate with you snuggled in his arms asleep. Using your healing abilities takes a lot out of you so you slept. When Gyomei got to his estate he walked through the house, to his bedroom where he gently set you down on the floor before grabbing a blanket and laying it on you and putting a pillow beneath your head. He then left the room quietly and went to inform Genya about their guest.

He walked through the house and out the back through the shoji doors. He walked until he felt Genya’s presence. “Genya” he called. “Yes Himejima?” Genya replied. “I’ve told you you can call me Gyomei, also, we have a guest staying with us tonight.” Gyomei informed. Genya stoped his training and walked over to Gyomei who then pat Genya’s head once he was within reach. “Who’s the guest?” He asked. “Their name is y/n, and they are a half demon child.”

“A half demon? I didn’t even know that was possible. Do half demons eat people?” Genya asked. Gyomei wasn’t an expert on half demons, seeing that he didn’t even know they existed or could. “I don’t know but that is why they are our guest. We are to keep an eye on them, but I truly believe that this child doesn’t mean any harm.” Gyomei replied. “It should be about evening yes? Why don’t we make dinner?” Gyomei suggested. The two of them went inside and began to make dinner which consisted of rice, fried vegetables, miso soup and fish.

You woke up to the smell of something good. You had no idea what it was but decided to follow the smell. You walked out of the room you were in and down the hall into the main room where you found the giant man and another boy together doing something. You didn’t know what they were doing so you sat down and watched. Genya turned around and nearly yelped when he saw you sitting there staring at him and Gyomei.

By the time they finished making dinner, Gyomei set some food down in front of you as well as a cup of tea. Once everyone was served, Gyomei and Genya began to pray before they ate. You just watched. When they started eating you watched them. They were eating with sticks and you had no idea how. You looked in front of you and saw strange stuff but you did recognize one thing. The fish. Genya and Gyomei noticed that you weren’t eating, which had caused Gyomei to be concerned.

You picked up the fish with your hands and ate the head much to Genya’s horror. He watched you eat the fish, bones and all. He saw that that was the only thing you ate and that you were sniffing the other food, inspecting it. Genya realized that you probably didn’t know what that food was, having heard from Gyomei that you were found alone in the woods. “That’s rice, that white fluffy stuff. Try it, it’s yummy” he told you as he pointed at the small bowl of rice. You looked at where the guy was pointing and since you didn’t sense any ill will, you decided to try the ‘rice’.

You picked up the bowl and ate some of the rice similar to how a dog eats out of a bowl. Genya sighed then grabbed your chopsticks and handed them to you to use. You just stared at them like they were some strange creature. That’s when Genya realized you probably don’t know how to use them. “Here, I’ll show you how to use chopsticks, just don’t eat like a dog.” Genya said as he gently grabbed your hand and positioned the chopsticks in your hand the right way. He then began maneuvering your hand and used your hand to pick up rice and put it in your mouth using the chopsticks.

With a bit more of Genya’s help, you clumsily but slowly got the hang of using chopsticks. After you finished your rice, Genya told you to try the other foods and you did. You came to the realization that Genya is a genius who knows what everything is. He introduced you to yummy things so he must be a genius. You realized that you didn’t know what their names where so you pointed at yourself and said y/n. You pointed at Genya and waited. Genya realized he hadn’t told you his name. “My name is Genya”

Gyomei realized he too had yet to introduce himself. “That’s Gyomei” Genya said as he pointed at Gyomei. You looked at Gyomei, then Genya, then Gyomei, then back at Genya. You pointed at Gyomei and said “Gyo!” Gyomei smiled as you attempted to say his name. You pointed at Genya and said “Gen” “close, it’s Genya.” “Gen” Genya realized his full name must be hard for you to say so he left it at that.

After dinner, Gyomei and Genya cleaned up and you watched, not really understanding what they were doing. After cleaning up, Gyomei and Genya decided to get ready for their patrol. Gyomei decided to have Genya stay behind with you tonight while he patrolled his territory for any demons. After bidding you both goodbye, Gyomei left leaving you and Genya together. Genya decided he was going to take a bath before bed and got the water going. Once the bath was ready, he got in and started to relax, only to find you staring at him a few minutes later scaring him.

You stared at him, wondering what he was doing. You decided you wanted a closer look and tried to climb up the side much to Genya’s horror, he didn’t want you to see his ‘little friend’ and have to teach you about the differences between boys and girls. Genya then grabbed a towel to cover himself up and tried to keep you out of the tub but that didn’t work. You fell in and freaked out, acting like a cat that fell into a pool of water. Genya then saw how dirty you actually were and decided he would give you a bath. He helped his younger siblings before so he didn’t really mind cleaning you up and just pictured that he was helping one of his late siblings clean up.

Once you were clean and dried, Genya got you dressed in a clean robe and decided that he would fashion something to fit you better. After your warm bath you got sleepy and Genya noticed. He brought you back to the bedroom and got you all settled in before he got to work, fixing you up some clothes to wear. You crawled over to him and laid your head on his thigh, wanting to be close to him. Genya smiled as he continued to work late into the night. By the time he was finished, he was tired. He then scooped you up and went over to the futon and crawled in with you in his arms and went to sleep.

When Gyomei returned in the early morning hours, he smiled sensing the two of you snuggling together. He then took out his own futon and went to sleep. When you woke up later that morning, Genya and Gyomei were already up and had made breakfast and started training. You sat and watched them, curious about what they were doing. You kicked your little legs and clapped whenever you saw them do something you thought was cool.

After a while, you got bored and decided to wander off whilst Gyomei’s crow kept an eye on you. You ended up wandering in the forest and finding the waterfall that Gyomei trains with. You stared at it and decided to walk into the water to look for fish. You had started to catch fish and had quite a small pile of 7 fish when Genya and Gyomei came to check on you. Genya chuckled cause you looked like a drowned rat with your entire body soaked. You smiled as you held up a fish to Genya. Genya was amazed that someone so small could catch so many fish.

“You seem to have been busy little one, how did you catch this many fish?” Gyomei was curious. While closely inspecting the fish, Genya found small teeth marks on each fish. You walked over to Genya and proceeded to try and feed him a raw fish until a noise caught your attention. You saw a strange creature hop out of the water and hid behind Gyomei before pointing at it. “What that” you looked at Genya for an answer. “That’s a frog” “fog?” “No frog” you struggled to properly pronounce the new word Genya taught you.

As you walked back carrying the fish you caught, you happily hummed as you walked side by side with Genya and Gyomei. When you got back to Gyomei’s estate, Genya and Gyomei started to cook lunch while you watched. While Genya was gutting the fish he accidentally cut himself, you walked over and stuck his finger in your mouth before pulling it out. Genya was worried until he saw that his cut was healed. “You fixed it, how? Do you have healing spit?” You just tilted your head and smiled at Genya. Genya went back to cooking as you watched them.

After lunch, Kyojuro came to visit, Gyomei told you that he and Genya both had missions and that you would be staying with Rengoku. You walked over to Gyomei and cried into his shirt as he rubbed your head. “No go. Gyo, Gen no go” you cried. Gyomei smiled and pat your back as he held you. “It’s alright little one, we’ll be alright. Once we are done I’ll have our crows let you know.” Gyomei said as he rubbed your back. “Promise” you demanded. Gyomei chuckled and promised you.

You then crawled out of Gyomei’s lap before hugging Genya and Gyomei goodbye before latching onto Rengoku’s pant leg. You waved goodbye as you two left Gyomei’s estate. Gyomei cried as you left, and Genya waved back. “Don’t worry young y/n! I promise that you’ll have a good time with me. I’ll introduce you to my little brother Senjuro, you’ll get to taste his delicious cooking. I promise you’ll have a good time. Now let us go!” Rengoku shouted happily. You waddled behind him, still missing your Gyo and Gen. You followed him as you both began your journey to the Rengoku estate.

[jermer10]

hiiii I love love love ur writing sm !! do u think u would mind like. doing the trope where reader and merc get stuck in like a reaaaally teeny locker/closet/box etc and like basically have to be cuddling the whole time?? any mercs u want but I'd esp love scout, Sniper, and soldier :3 <3<3

TF2 forced confinement

gn reader, suggestive | wait i love this ask

includes: scout, soldier, sniper

drabbles under the cut :P

Scout: - The second the door closes, trapping the two of you inside, Scout freaks out - “Oh man, oh man, we’re stuck in here! What’re we supposed to do?” - "We'll just have to wait for them to come and get us." You grimace - He can’t stop blushing the moment he realizes just how close you are, he’s trying to act cool, but his face is beet red, and he can’t seem to meet your eyes - He keeps shifting, trying to get comfortable without, you know, touching you too much, but it’s a tiny closet, so he’s got no choice but to be practically on top of you - Every time he accidentally bumps into you, he mutters, “Sorry, sorry,” like it’s the end of the world - To cover up how flustered he is, Scout starts talking. A lot. “This closet’s so freakin’ small, huh? Like, who even makes closets this tiny? I mean, what’re people even supposed to keep in here? Brooms? Ha! Weird, right?” - You ease up at the realization that he's just as awkward about this as you are - After a few minutes, he tries to act like he’s totally cool with the situation - He’ll awkwardly drape an arm around you, trying to make it seem casual, but his heartbeat is way too fast, and he can’t stop glancing at you to see if you’re uncomfortable. “We’re cool, right? Yeah, totally cool.” - He is obviously, not cool - Eventually, the awkwardness turns into something a little more comfortable - He’ll laugh at how ridiculous the situation is, maybe even teasing, “Bet ya didn’t expect to spend the day stuck in a closet with me, huh?”

Soldier: - When the door slams shut, Soldier isn’t fazed at first - He just stands there, arms crossed, as if being stuck in a tiny closet with you is totally normal - “This is nothing. I’ve been in tighter spaces during training!” he declares with full confidence - But once you’re both standing way too close for comfort, even Soldier starts to feel the awkwardness - You’re practically chest-to-chest, and he can’t ignore it anymore. “Ah… this is… strategically inconvenient,” he mutters, his bravado slipping a little - Soldier tries to stay as still as possible, his body rigid as he avoids making too much contact - He won’t admit it, but he’s extremely uncomfortable being in such close quarters with you—not because he doesn’t like it, but because he likes it too much - After a while, Soldier starts to relax (as much as he can). If the two of you are sitting or huddling together, he’ll instinctively wrap an arm around you in a protective way, as if guarding you from the cramped space itself - He won’t acknowledge it, though - just gives a gruff, “Stay still, it’s more efficient.” - Soldier keeps trying to frame the situation like a tactical operation. “We must conserve space. Stay close. No sudden movements,” he’ll say, his voice serious, but inside, he’s silently praying you don’t notice how his heart is pounding from being so close to you - As time passes, Soldier’s stiff demeanor softens, and he might even say something like, “You are… not a bad person to be stuck with in combat—or a closet.” It’s the closest thing to a compliment he’ll give, but it’s sincere

Sniper: - The moment the door closes, trapping you both inside, Sniper freezes - He’s not someone who’s used to physical closeness, and now you’re practically on top of him in this tiny closet - his first instinct is to go completely silent - Sniper tries to move around in the cramped space without invading your personal bubble, but it’s impossible - Every time your knees or shoulders brush against each other, he stiffens, his face heating up. “Uh, sorry ‘bout that…” he mumbles, barely able to look at you - He’s incredibly polite, despite being obviously flustered - “I’ll, uh, try not to get too close, if I can help it…” but then he realizes how ridiculous that sounds, given the size of the closet, and he just shuts his mouth, embarrassed - Sniper leans back against the wall, trying to stay calm, but his heart is racing, and he’s hyper-aware of every tiny movement you make - Sniper doesn’t say much, but if you get uncomfortable or need to shift around, he’s quick to make sure you’re okay. “Here, move this way—it’ll be more comfortable,” he’ll offer, gently guiding you into a better position, even though it means getting closer to you - After a while, the tension dies down a bit, and he might quietly admit, “I’m, uh, not used to this sorta thing. But… I don’t mind, bein’ close to ya.” His voice is soft, and he’s looking away, but you can tell he means it

[ecstxsyy]

SO HIGH. | E. DIAZ

Eddie Diaz is one hell of a drug.

18+ mdni !

eddie diaz x fem reader

warnings: alcohol use, intoxicated sex, p in v, oral (f & m receiving), fingering, slight edging (f receiving), squirting, facials, porn with very little plot, unprotected sex (wrap it up), slight degradation, cum eating.

EDDIE DIAZ is unexpectedly the life of the party. Sure, he seems like he’d be fun, but never like this.

It started at Chimney’s “bachelor party”, which he never actually showed up to. Buck had been excitedly planning it all week, all the while Chimney was telling him that he never wanted a bachelor party and Buck being Buck, insisted that he planned one for him. Now, here you sat.

You, Eddie, and Buck counted the minutes as they passed, praying at least someone would show up or at least come back to keep them company.

After about 20 or so minutes, Buck finally realized no one was coming and made the bright decision to invite the other people outside clubbing into the private suit.

After many tequila shots and bad decisions, the group of you had somehow ended up at Chimney’s hotel room. You all stormed in, immediately beginning to party all over again.

You, Eddie, and Buck raced to Chimney’s door, knocking to try and get him up. When you received no response you joined the rest and continued to party.

You couldn’t remember what part of the night got you to where you were now, pinned beneath Eddie’s weight as you kissed fervently.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Eddie asked for what you swore was the millionth time.

“Yes, Eddie, I’m positive.” You said through sloppy kisses.

“Just don't want you to think I'm taking advantage of you.” He sighed as he kissed down the side of your neck.

“Eddie.”

“Hm?” He hummed as he looked up at you through his eyelashes, kissing down your collarbone.

“Shut up and fuck me.” You moaned as he sucked on your skin, hickey’s blooming in his wake.

“Don’t gotta tell me twice,” Eddie mumbled into your skin, tapping your elbow to raise your arms so he could remove your shirt.

Pieces of clothing continued to fly as he stripped you from head to toe, worshipping your skin slowly as it was revealed. He loved the way you tasted, his tongue peaking out occasionally to lick the skin beneath his lips.

At this point, you were a sensitive writhing mess. You wanted nothing more than for him to just fuck you, but if you knew Eddie at all, you knew he’d tease you until you physically couldn’t take it anymore.

“Eddie please,” You begged, your pleas falling upon deaf ears.

Eddie continued on like he’d never heard you, trailing kisses down your inner thigh, getting dangerously close to your pussy without ever actually touching it.

You bucked up into his face, attempting to get some relief from the heat bubbling in the pit of your stomach. This made Eddie nip your thigh, soothing the area with his tongue immediately after.

“So impatient, Cariño.” Eddie teased, “but, I suppose I’ve made you wait long enough.”

Eddie dove straight in, eating you out like a starved man being set in front of a feast. He immediately sucked your clit into his mouth, teasing your entrance with the tip of his index finger, never actually inserting it into your heat.

Gasps and moans tumbled from your lips, his assault on your nether regions felt amplified. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe he really was just that good at giving head. Either way, you couldn’t care less. The only thing on your mind being how good he was making you feel.

Eddie felt like he could stay in this position forever, you tasted like heaven on his tongue and now that he’s had a taste he doesn’t know if he could ever stop.

“God you taste so good.” Eddie practically moaned into your pussy.

Those words made your stomach flutter as you looked down at him, the sight that greeted you nearly made you cum immediately.

Eddie was practically fucking the bed beneath him, grinding his hips into the sheets. He was getting off on just eating you out.

“God, Eddie. Look at you, you’re so pathetic.” You moaned, loving the idea that he’d suppress himself of pleasure just to get you off.

“Only for you,” he mumbled into your heat.

Eddie began pistoning his fingers inside of you, speeding up the pattern of his tongue. Your moans got louder and louder with this change, signaling to him that you were about to cum.

This made him halt his actions immediately, sitting back on his heels to watch you writhe and complain.

“Why’d you stop? I was so close.” You pouted.

“‘Cause i’m no where near being done with you.” He smirked, unclasping his belt and pulling his pants down barely enough to get his cock out.

Your jaw nearly fell off when you saw the size of him, pondering how and where it was supposed to fit inside of you.

You couldn’t lie and say you hadn’t thought about Eddie in that way before. You’d figured he’d be big, but, Eddie was hung.

“There’s no way you’re gonna fit.” You said in shock while Eddie stroked his cock slowly, spitting in his palm to lube himself up.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll go slow to start, okay?” Eddie reassured.

You nodded as he lined himself up with your entrance, giving him silent consent to begin pushing himself deep inside your aching pussy.

“Oh fuck.” You gasped out, the ache of him stretching you out hurt so good.

Eddie slowly began giving you shallow thrusts, fucking more of his length into you with each thrust. His pace began to speed up quickly, he wanted to be patient for you, but he just couldn’t bring himself to hold back. Tears of pleasure pricked your eyes as Eddie filled you to the brim. You’d never felt so full before, you swore you could feel him in your stomach.

“Oh God.” You moaned loudly, your nails scratching down his back, leaving small scratches and blood droplets in their wake.

“God isn’t the one making you feel this good, baby. I am.” Eddie said cockily, pressing down lightly on the slightly visible outline of his cock in your stomach. You yelped with pleasure, your legs trembling around his waist as you struggled to put together a coherent thought.

His thrusts got deeper and deeper each time, his cock stroking a place inside of you that you didn’t even know existed. The little bundle of nerves shooting waves of pleasure all throughout your body.

“Eddie ‘m gonna cum.” You whimpered, your fingers moving to rub your clit while Eddie fucked you relentlessly. Eddie, noticing this, immediately slapped your hand away, using his hand to replace yours. He rubbed quick small circles into your clit that sent shivers up your spine.

“Go ahead, baby. I know it feels so good, go ahead and cum for me.” Eddie encouraged through panting breaths.

Your orgasm plowed through you in waves, a scream tearing its way out of your throat. Your body convulsed as you sprayed evidence of your orgasm all over the sheets and Eddie’s lower abdomen, you couldn't tell how long your orgasm lasted. All you knew was your ears rung for a solid 10 seconds after it finished wracking its way through your body.

“Got you gushin’ for me, Cariño.” Eddie smirked, catching a drop from his stomach on his finger and sucking it into his mouth.

Eddie eased his way out of you, pulling you up off the bed and pushing you to your knees on the floor.

His cock sat above your face in all of its glory, still hard and leaking precum. His tip was an angry red color and you knew he wanted to cum so bad.

“Open wide for me, I know you can take it.” Eddie encouraged, easing his cock between your lips.

You sucked him into your mouth immediately, too cockdrunk to think about anything else but the man in front of you. You swirled your tongue around his tip, taking his balls into your hand to massage them softly.

“Shit, baby, you’re so good at this. Such a good girl f’ me.” Eddie mumbled, pulling all of your hair into one of his fists, using it to guide your head up and down his cock.

All you cared about was pleasing him, he made you cum so good, the least you could do was return the favor.

“Fuck, ‘m gonna cum all over that pretty face.” Eddie said, beginning to use your hair to face fuck you. You simply sat back and relaxed, letting him do whatever he pleased to you to make himself cum.

When his hips began to falter, you knew he was about to cum. He pulled you up off of his cock and began stroking his length above your face, throwing his head back with a groan.

His load shot out onto your face in warm spurts, his hips thrusting to meet the strokes of his hand while he moaned.

Once he made sure his entire load was on your face, he smiled, patting your cheek softly before using his first two fingers to collect some of his cum off of your face.

“Open,” Eddie instructed firmly, your mouth falling open for him. He took his fingers and pushed them into your mouth, your lips closing around them as you sucked the salty fluid off of his fingers.

“Such a good girl for me.” Eddie smiled at you.

You could’ve sworn you felt high, maybe that was just the effect Eddie had on you.

[lunajay33]

Soulmate🖤

Summary: You always wanted a deep connection with someone but never found it, that is until the apocalypse happens and a redneck archer saves you and things grow

•Masterlist•

I always envied the people around me finding their soulmates, how happy they seemed but I always tried to stay positive praying that someday that would be me, smiling so bright at the person across from me, but when the apocalypse hit I felt that hope dwindle all my friends and family gone, just me wondering the woods outside of Atlanta

I’ve been walking for days running low on food and water, walking until my legs give out when I come out of the trees to an opening of a serene blue quarry, I found a path down to the water and filled my canteen when I here a snap behind me, in fear of it be a walker I jumped and turned my knife tight in my grip but what came out of the path my my heart jump, a tanned man a little scruffy with a cross bow pointing straight at me

“How’d ya find the camp?” His voice grumbles and it’s like his voice shot right through my heart

“I didn’t, I just came from the woods and found this quarry and I just needed water” he seemed hesitant but he lowered his crossbow, I could tell he had a rough exterior but for some reason that didn’t bother me, there was something about him that drew me in

“I’m y/n”

“Daryl”

He showed me the camp and the group let me stay, over the next week he slowly warmed up to me, according to Lori he doesn’t act nice to anyone here other than me, he just came out of the woods from hunting when I met him at the tree line having been worried about him

“Daryl! How did it go?”

“Fine, got some squirrels, here” he said handing me a pink tulip

“For me? Thank you Daryl it’s beautiful” I saw him look away but not before I noticed the blush on his face

When the camp fell he came back just in time to save me holding me tight like this was the last chance, that night he had me sleep in him tent as he guarded it just incase, when we left for the cdc the next day he had me stay with him, when Jenner was showing us around Daryl pushed us into a room claiming it before others, i felt so special anytime he treated me like I was precious cargo

“Do you think we can make a home here?”

“Don’t know, just want ya safe”

“Can I ask you something?” He grunted with a nod

“What are we, I mean from the moment I met you I’ve felt so connected to you and I think you feel the same but I don’t want to push you”

“All I know sunshine is that yer mine and I ain’t gonna let nothin happen to ya”