#In the canon one she is miserable

[stoopidassjamesfranco]

Più che altro sarebbe molto deluso perché si sta spostando un borghese🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Spencer Tracy in 'Father of the Bride' (1950).

[ciderjacks]

really shitty Dulcie doodles I did while watching episode 8. Bc her miserable little expressions are so good. Also ok Why is she getting treated so badly by everyone all the time. Leave my beautiful wife alone. She’s doing her best.

[sheathnknife]

the vampire diaries 8.16 // louise gluck, crossroads

“and damon, like the voiceover tell us, he was worried he would never see stefan again. it was just elena assuring him that there would be peace. that we’ve dealt with this other side of darkness for several seasons, but there’s also light out there and there’s peace, and damon will find it. if you search for it, you will find it. and we wanted to get that last moment to see that [...] damon found it too, and it looked just like his brother.” — kevin williamson

[lizhly-writes]

one day i'll actually work on the canon of this original fiction instead of going off on an offbeat au. that day is not today. anyway here's the chen siblings being violent people i guess

Chen Liwei wishes he could threaten people. His face is hostile enough that it stops people from talking to him, but apparently not enough for him to scare them in a way that matters. Sure, they’ll be scared for the first five minutes --- an hour, if he’s really lucky --- but that’s not enough for them to rethink that dumb thing they want to do to him or his sister.

To make an impact that lasts longer, Chen Liwei usually has to beat people up.

Today, it’s some of his sister’s crazy stalkers.

“They’re technically not stalkers,” Chen Lihua says, not because she actually disagrees with his word choice, but because she’s a little shit who likes to argue with him for the sake of arguing.

“Fuck off,” Chen Liwei says.

“Don’t be so touchy,” Chen Lihua says, and then, “Hey, do you think if I’ll actually kill him if I hit him again?” She twirls the bat in her hand consideringly.

Chen Liwei gives the prone body in front of him a kick. Not too hard --- just to enough to budge it by a couple centimeters. It’d be nice if he was allowed to break some ribs, but --

“You’re not allowed to kill people, that’s illegal,” Chen Liwei says reluctantly. There’s a limit to how much damage they’re allowed to do. Too much, and then it’s not reasonable retaliation or just kids being kids or whatever the fuck the school or the police lets people get away with. It looks bad, and they can’t afford to look too bad if they want to be properly accepted to a good university.

Even if there are absolutely some people who deserve to die.

“How disappointing,” Chen Lihua says.

“Completely disappointing,” Chen Liwei says.

“I really can’t understand it,” Chen Liwei says, her lips curling. “It sounds so nice, saying you’re in love, but isn’t all of this just to get your dick wet with someone you barely know? I should tear that useless thing off, shouldn’t I?”

“Illegal,” Chen Liwei repeats.

“Fuck off,” Chen Lihua says. Thoughtfully, she taps her bat against the ground --- no, against the body, that’ll be another bruise right there. “Hey, Ge. Speaking of romance--”

“Is there someone you like?” Chen Liwei says skeptically, wrinkling his nose. Considering what they’re doing literally right now, that doesn’t seem right.

Chen Lihua snorts. “I’m not talking about me, I’m talking about you.”

“Are you dumb?” Chen Liwei says.

Chen Lihua makes a rude noise. “You’re in a good mood these days, is all I’m saying. And there aren’t that many reasons for you to be in a good mood and also not tell me about it. Is there a beautiful sister-in-law I should be looking out for?”

Chen Liwei feels his face twist involuntarily.

“No?” Chen Lihua says. “That looks like a no. How tragic, I was looking forward to hearing about how some brave white lotus melted the heart of the school’s cool aloof beauty, and together, they bravely faced the world, overcoming all trials with the power of love--”

Chen Liwei shoves a hand over her face.

“Dickhead,” Chen Lihua says.

“Don’t make me throw up,” Chen Liwei says. “Why do you read so many shitty romance novels?”

“A better question is why don’t you read any shitty romance novels.”

“Because I don’t feel like eating trash.”

“Don’t sound so disgusted, there’s a certain appeal to eating trash--”

The body at their feet groans. As one, Chen Liwei and Chen Lihua kick it.

“Anyway,” Chen Lihua says. “So I don’t have a beautiful sister-in-law.”

“Why would you even think that.”

“Well, it’s true you really have been in a better mood,” Chen Lihua says. “Also, last week, some bitch tried flirting with you at lunch and you didn’t make her instantly regret existing.”

Chen Liwei wrinkles his nose in automatic revulsion. Flirting is annoying at best, rage-inducing at worst. Who wants this sort of attention? There’s no respect there. It’s only masses of people who want his body and face, all in the most revolting way possible. That sort of thing is enough to ruin his day.

...Which is why he really should have remembered if it happened last week.

“What?” Chen Liwei says. “Really?”

“You know,” Chen Lihua simpers, shifting her voice high and breathy as she demurely lowers her lashes. “It’s just --- you were so impressive when you dealt with Qi Mingtao earlier. So dashing and handsome! Actually, I’ve always thought you were a really cool person. I --- I just really wondered --- would you want to--- ?”

“You’re going to make me throw up,” Chen Liwei says flatly.

“You keep saying that but you never do it,” Chen Lihua cackles. “Gege, your stomach isn’t as sensitive you think it is! But yeah, it went a little like that. You really truly don’t remember?”

“Should I?”

“It’s not like it was a stranger. It was one of your classmates. Han Aihan?”

The name is vaguely familiar. It takes a moment, but he eventually associates it with a face. He has no memory of talking with it last week.

Chen Liwei shrugs.

“Shit, she’s been going around saying that clearly, you like her because you didn’t bother scaring her off and also wow, you smiled at her, and what, you weren’t even paying attention? Hey, do you even know who she is?”

Of course Chen Liwei knows who she is. He knows all of his classmates by name, even if he doesn’t remember straight off the bat. Generally speaking, Han Aihan is an average girl with no particular academic talent, extracurricular talent, or even social talent. In other words: “Nothing special.”

“I’ll pay you to say that to her face,” Chen Lihua says gleefully.

“No deal,” Chen Liwei says. “If you want to her to hear it so badly, say it yourself.”

“Ah, you’re no fun. Poor Han Aihan, she’s so unimportant to you that you can’t even be bothered to crush her heart personally. If she flat-out confessed to you, would you even hear it or would it just be ‘huh? Oh, were you talking to me?’”

With some effort, Chen Liwei vaguely recalls Han Aihan saying... something to him. Chen Lihua was right --- at the time, he really hadn’t been paying attention.

“Huh,” Chen Liwei says.

“You’re normally better at remaining awake and alert,” Chen Lihua says. “What were you distracted by? Thinking good thoughts? About what? Oooh, did somebody die?”

He’d honestly been thinking about the offended expression on Wu Youxuan’s face when he saw Chen Liwei’s perfect test score.

“How are you even doing this,” Wu Youxuan hissed. “You spend all of your time either at your job or beating people up, what kind of study medicine are you even taking that you can just casually walk in and get the best goddamn score, stop smiling I’m going to beat your face in --”

“You’d know if somebody died,” Chen Liwei says, and then, because he owes his sister honesty, says, “I have a...”

What’s the word he’s looking for? Acquaintance? Lackey? Victim?

“...Friend?” Chen Liwei finishes skeptically.

Even before their parents had died, Chen Lihua had always been the more social one of them. Back then, Chen Liwei had been abstractly aware of what friendship was, but he’d never really bothered with anything more than surface level relationships. A healthy classroom atmosphere where it was easy to find partners for class projects and maybe a game of basketball --- and that was pretty much all he cared about. After...

Well, he stopped caring about even that, eventually.

Anyway.

Is Wu Youxuan a friend? Maybe for lack of a better word, but Chen Liwei is almost certain he isn’t treating Wu Youxuan nice enough for that. Should he treat Wu Youxuan nicer?

“A friend,” Chen Lihua says dubiously. “You.”

“I’m allowed to have friends,” Chen Liwei says. “You have friends.”

This is a lie. Chen Lihua doesn’t have friends. She has ‘friends’: people that she chats with and laughs with, but doesn’t actually expend any real care or feeling for. She’s explained this before. Something about keeping a pleasant atmosphere, something about feeling like your ‘friends’ are friends, even if they badmouth you behind your back. It’s a lot of effort for not very much payoff, keeping on a fake face, day after day, always ready for the knife in the back.

Chen Liwei doesn’t really get it.

Wu Youxuan is at least upfront about the desire he has to stab Chen Liwei in the face.

“You’re smiling,” Chen Lihua observes.

“Well,” Chen Liwei says. Wu Youxuan is really funny when he wants to stab Chen Liwei in the face.

[relicsongmel]

Ok enough vague loredumping in tags it's time to properly introduce y'all to my wacky and wonderful crowd of non self-insert OCs (intro to my self-inserts and the basics of my OC canon can be found here).

So let's start with the Anderson sisters, aka Sylvia and Denise's moms!

(reference images made using Picrew and Love Nikki)

Martha Goldwood

Gender: female (she/her)

Orientation: pansexual

Birthday: June 25th

Height: 5'7

Hair color: light blonde

Eye color: green

Color scheme: wide variety but purples, greens, and blues are most common

Ethnicity: Unovan

Interests: Pokemon battling, traveling, skiing, photography, baking, gardening/botany, swimming*, boating

Fashion sense is similar to her daughters'—romantic and feminine but not overly elaborate or impractical. Almost always wears at least 1 clothing garment/accessory that has flowers or floral patterns

Born in Icirrus City to parents Rosemary and Henry Anderson; lived there until leaving to become a Pokemon Trainer in her late teens due to dissatisfaction with her quiet life at home

Met her husband Roger Goldwood (a musician and aspiring composer) while visiting Driftveil City and convinces him to take a journey of his own. The two travel to many regions together and grow quite close as a result

Married Roger at age 26 and moved with him to Nuvema Town; their daughter Sylvia was born when she was 27

When they were both 28 her husband passes away due to drowning in the Abyssal Ruins in search of clues pertaining to the Mythical Pokemon Meloetta. His partner Samurott swims back home from Undella Bay to bring his body to Martha, then passes away from grief a few days after. Martha is quite grief-stricken herself and traumatized to the point that she can no longer bring herself to swim in the sea anymore, but she doesn't want her daughter to grow up fearing the ocean he loved. She continues to take Sylvia to Nuvema's shoreline to swim and go on boating trips as he once dreamed of doing with her, but she keeps Roger's true cause of death hidden from her to shield her daughter from experiencing trauma where her father wanted her to experience joy. Sylvia spends two decades believing her father died when she was very young of a "mysterious illness."

Becomes a florist after her husband's passing after receiving many sympathy flowers from friends/neighbors and gaining an appreciation for how floral arrangements can convey emotion and meaning

Noticed Sylvia's interest in music at an early age and fostered it by signing her up for music lessons, initially piano and singing but this eventually expanded to multiple other instruments. She encouraged her musical development after she noticed how performing onstage helped her daughter become less shy and more confident, and was overjoyed that Roger's "little songbird" inherited his gift.

As Sylvia started to develop burnout from music Martha suggested she take a Pokemon journey for a change of pace, as she once did when she was her age, but not before much deliberation as raising Sylvia was one of her biggest solaces after losing her husband. Even though she expected it, she has to fight to suppress the rising wave of grief when her daughter chooses Oshawott as her first Pokemon.

Personality: introverted as a child/adolescent but grew up to be more ambiverted as an adult, nurturing, secretive, loyal to loved ones to the point of self-detriment

Notable Pokemon: Serperior, Florges

Jennifer Anderson-Hitoki

Gender: female (she/her)

Orientation: bisexual

Birthday: August 9th

Height: 5'5

Hair color: blonde

Eye color: green

Color scheme: mostly pinks, whites, and yellows with occasional oranges and reds

Ethnicity: Unovan

Interests: Pokemon nutrition and hygiene, traveling, hiking, biking, skiing, baking, mythology, teaching

Fashion is practical and upbeat, professional but with a bit of a sporty touch. Shares her daughter's distaste for unneeded flourish unless it's for a deliberate purpose

Born 4 years after Martha and raised in Icirrus City along with her; spent a lot of time at the local Pokemon Fan Club where she fell in love with the art of raising Pokemon. Left home at age 10 to become a professional Pokemon Breeder

Despite some setbacks she was quite successful and traveled the world competing in various events for Pokemon Breeders at the regional, national, and even worldwide level. Her biggest rival was Ryuji Hitoki from Goldenrod City, who outcompeted her every time they met until she finally triumphed over him in a competition known as the Pokemon Breeders' World Cup

Despite their rivalry Jen has a lot of respect for Ryu and vice versa; they fell in love slowly but surely and moved to Ecruteak City after their engagement. Jen was 23 on her wedding day and 25 when her daughter Denise was born

Retained influence in the Pokemon Breeder scene even after leaving the world stage—she opened a store to sell her original blend of Pokemon food and other care products, and does occasional traveling to give seminars to aspiring Trainers/Breeders

Her marriage grew unstable throughout Denise's childhood, initially due to differing opinions on how to raise her/her future (particularly whether she would follow in her parents' footsteps), but the arguments escalated and started to extend to other things as well. Eventually Ryuji had enough and left on another journey without a word, effectively abandoning his wife and daughter. 35 year-old Jen is heartbroken, confused and angry but tries to keep up a cheerful facade for her daughter's sake (and because she blames her temperamental side for driving her husband away). Unfortunately this only serves to infuriate Denise, then 10 years old, because she perceives it as her mother lying to her/denying reality, is biased toward Ryu because he was her primary caregiver and thus she won't blame him (well. not yet at least) and is also too young and hurt to blame herself. Jen spends the next 3 years struggling to navigate a strained relationship with her daughter and the new challenges of single motherhood while desperately trying to manage her own grief.

After giving up hope for Ryu's return she decides to move to Aspertia City to start a new life without him and to be a little closer to her older sister and niece, taking her daughter with her. Denise is once again furious because she sprung this on her without warning and views it as her mother taking her away from her friends/home for her own selfish reasons. Jen initially tries to rectify things but due to repeatedly trying and failing to effectively communicate with her daughter, she instead decides it's best to give Denise the space she needs to adjust and hope she eventually comes around (even if it means she spends 5 years barely leaving her room and basically only leaving the house to go to the library). They only interact when necessary, and when they do it usually ends with Denise getting angry and Jen feeling guilty and doubting her capabilities as a parent. This pattern continues up until Denise leaves on her own journey after turning 18.

After moving to Aspertia City she gets a job teaching at the city's Pokemon Trainers' School. Teaching the young students about Pokemon and helping them grow was a large source of comfort for her in the wake of her rather bleak family situation.

Personality: charmingly extroverted, tenacious, impatient, very blunt about her likes and dislikes

Notable Pokemon: Ninetales, Zebstrika

Random fun facts/lore

Due to Icirrus' City's close proximity to Dragonspiral Tower, a place of great importance in Unovan myth, Martha and Jennifer grew up listening to their parents retelling stories of the legendary Reshiram and Zekrom and the twin heroes that wielded their power; whenever they return to their hometown for holidays/festivals their daughters hear the same tales. As such all four have at least a mild interest in mythology; Jen loved Ecruteak because its reverence for its legendary Pokemon felt familiar to her and the myths surrounding them piqued her interest.

I shorten Jennifer to "Jen" a lot because it's convenient it's the name she asks most people call her; however, Martha and Martha alone has the privilege of calling her little sister "Jenny." Jen calls her older sister "Marthie."

Cedric Juniper was neighbors with Rosemary and Henry, and he was the one who gave the Anderson sisters their starter Pokemon. His daughter Aurea was also very good friends with the girls; Martha and Roger moved to Nuvema partly because it was just after she had established her laboratory there as Unova's new Pokemon Professor (the other reason was that Roger wanted to move somewhere near the ocean so he could have easy access to his father's old boat). Aurea was also the one who suggested to Jen that Denise go on a Pokemon journey to ease her depression and get to know Unova a little better.

Martha met her Florges—then a Flabébé—a few weeks after she started working at Nuvema's flower shop, where she walked to work one day to find a Pokemon she had never seen before admiring the store's outdoor floral displays. The Pokemon came back to visit multiple times before Martha eventually befriended and caught her; she's now her partner who keeps all her flowers vibrant and healthy. Flabébé took a shine to baby Sylvia and grew up alongside her, and it was through their relationship that Martha taught Sylvia how to look after Pokemon. Little Sylvia also loved to visit them at work and often bombarded her mom with questions about plants, which Martha always thought was adorable (though a little distracting).

Sylvia believing Roger died of a "mysterious illness" is actually a holdover from before I had figured out his true cause of death lmao. I wasn't nearly as meticulous with details about the girls' parents as I am now (they're a lot more interesting to me now that I'm older), but I knew I wanted him out of the picture for the Drama™ so I just made up an easy explanation and called it a day haha

Ninetales is Jennifer’s most prized and recognizable Pokemon, and the one that led her to victory in the Pokemon Breeders’ World Cup. She’s known Denise since she was born and has always been very close with her; Denise often stims by running her fingers through Ninetales’ fur. During Denise’s depressive period, Ninetales keeps her company up in her room and comforts her after she has fights with her mom. Jen's design and character is also loosely inspired by Ninetales with the pigtails and her "fiery" temperament.

Out of all the girls' parents Martha in her prime was the strongest Trainer, though Ryuji eventually reaches her level while being a deadbeat training to gain the strength to seek out Legendary Pokemon. She's strong enough to hold her own even against her daughter and niece and would be a strong contender for a Gym Leader if she battled more consistently, but she doesn't have much interest in doing so.

Jen is incredibly lucky that Team Plasma wasn't as prominent when she was a child because she would have been VERY susceptible to their propaganda—she loved Pokemon but used to hate Pokemon battles, as she couldn't stand seeing Pokemon in pain and with their fur all dirty from being repeatedly hit by moves. Even after she had Pokemon of her own, it took her quite a long time to accept that battling can be a source of joy and enrichment for them, and it's her responsibility as a Breeder to engage them with the activities they enjoy in order to raise them to be happy and healthy. She does come around eventually though, and she especially loves seeing a Pokemon's happy smile after winning a match.

Denise was in a very precarious position mental health-wise after her confrontation with Team Plasma (re: almost being frozen to death twice and developing PTSD after the Opelucid City attack), and she spent a few months back home to stabilize a little before resuming her travels. Jen put in a lot of effort to help her get back on her feet; she did lots of searching to help her daughter find a therapist she liked, particularly one who could help her repair her relationship with her Glaceon (who evolved in Opelucid City due to the freezing energy of the indestructible ice and Dena couldn't even look at her without suffering painful flashbacks). Their mother-daughter relationship was starting to heal by this point but Jen called Martha for backup just in case. She visited Aspertia City for a few weeks to help look after her niece while her sister was at work, and was someone Denise could talk to about things she didn't feel comfortable telling her mom yet. They had many conversations about grief, depression, and feeling overshadowed by family members (Jen was more spoiled than her older sister and grew up to be quite successful, while Sylvia was a musical prodigy who became Unova's hero and Denise has mixed feelings on being compared to her so often; she adores Syl but wants to be recognized as her own person rather than "Sylvia's cousin" or someone who reminds people of "that Trainer from two years ago"). Denise was very grateful for Martha's guidance/support and gave her a Shiny Stone as thanks, which is how she was able to evolve her Floette into Florges.

The scenario for how Ryu re-enters Jen and Denise's life keeps getting reworked because his character has evolved a lot over the years and I am an indecisive bitch so idk exactly how he returns, but I can say that Jennifer is rightfully furious with him for how his leaving nearly drove a permanent wedge between her and her daughter, and how much he hurt both of them (especially Denise). Jen wouldn't cut him off completely because Denise, despite her own anger (which is a whole other can of worms but that's another post for another day), just wants to heal her broken family for the sake of the little girl who wanted her dad back, but she would make it quite clear that she wants to file for divorce because she can't love him the same way after what he's done. She'd likely also change her last name back to just "Anderson."

Speaking of things that are a work in progress, sometime post-BW2 arc Martha gets remarried to a woman named Laurel Gropius, who's N's long-lost mother and a new-ish OC of mine (she's also briefly mentioned in what is currently the only fic on my AO3 which can be found here). The funny thing though is that since N is also Sylvia's love interest in my canon, Laurel is technically both her stepmom AND mother in law but don't worry about it (this family tree is far from the weirdest in fiction but it has some pretty funny quirks to it. Like Ghetsis being N's Actual Biological Father due to an incredibly Specific and Convoluted and Altogether Fucked Up Series Of Events but again. Another post)

Currently Jen does not have any other romantic partners after divorcing Ryu in the canon timeline, but in my Paldea AU she has a bit of a Situationship with Raifort. I really really want it to end wholesomely because the idea of Raifort as Denise's stepmom brings me SO much joy but I'm also addicted to the Toxic Yuri of it all soooo. Inconclusive but I do have a little ramble about them here for those interested.

And that's all for now! If you made it this far thanks so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed reading about The Moms Ever <3333

[kiyomitakada]

i am going to scream (wip rambling in the tags)

[llycaons]

'jiang cheng would like a strong woman' have you considered she would probably not like him

[nyxi-pixie]

!! for the ask game: yosano, kyouka, or akutagawa <3 :D

hiiiii i blacked out and did all three

[cherry-treelane]

v took this picture because i said so <3 she's such a cutie

[m4ruk4ts]

tirame un fósforo y me prendo fuego, tirame un fósforo sino me muero.

[trans-leek-cookie]

Thinking abt AITSF and the ownership of bodies

[scare-ard--sleigh]

my husband and i got exceedingly hammered last night and he proceeded to explain the history of catholicism & christianity to me so i could write more accurate porn fjbmgfbkj #blessed

[vivemonroi]

Lavellan meets Solas

Spoilers!

The Lost Elf reprise killed me.

I remember one comment on YouTube under the original track. There was a theory that 'The Lost Elf' summarizes the love of Lavellan and Solas, how they “speak” through the melody: she is the violin, and he is the cello.

Yet now it’s slightly different; if you listen closely, you’ll hear that the violin sounds strong, happy and melodic, while in the original, it was broken, miserable, and thin.

The cello solo sets up the narrative, but at the climax, you can finally hear the violin. They 'sing' together in perfect harmony, almost indistinguishable from one another.

I love how music deepens our understanding of the storyline, guiding us further and revealing delicate nuances that add richness and depth to their story.

It’s canon now, it’s their theme.

Also I love how in the beggining Lavellan knew only a few words in Ancient Elven, at the end of the Tresspasser she can form full sentences, and now she speaks Elven fluently. It's a unique thing only for them. She speaks his language, because she knows how important it's to him. Elgar'nan speaks in Common language, yes, because of the Blight, but still. Even Mythal and Solas, in their final conversation, do not speak in Elven.

Lavellan is the only one who accepts him unconditionally. She forgives him when he cannot forgive himself, holds him when he needs it most, and ultimately, she is the one who saves him.

This is the extraordinary journey we’ve been fortunate enough to witness.

Ten years is a long time, but their love will last forever.

[medeaied]

lillian realised shortly after falling pregnant with alexander that she, actually, had no desire to be a mother - it had always been impressed upon her from an early age that it would be her lot in life; and where she would derive satisfaction and happiness from. it was said to her so much that she got quite stuck upon the idea - only to be severely disappointed and disinterested in the results ( aka, her children ). she'd be a lot happier, in all honesty, if she had never had children of her own.

[mononijikayu]

wife — nanami kento.

“I don’t like the way they’re looking at you.” You whisper to him. “Let them, honey.” he said, his deep voice rich with certainty. “That’s all they can do.” He took your hand, calloused but gentle, and squeezed it just enough to send a rush of comfort through you. His thumb traced the side of your hand in a subtle, soothing gesture. The cool metal of his ring finger brushes against your skin with intent.  “They should know that I am exactly where I choose to be. I’m a married man, after all.”

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence;

WARNING/S: romance, marriage, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, kissing, making out, rough sex, p to v sex, toilet sex, orgasm, humor, profanity, pet names (baby, honey), possesiveness, jealousy, characters speaking in sexual innuendo, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, if your partner isn't nanami kento then don't have him ladies, gents and non-binary friends;

WORD COUNT: 6.6k words.

NOTE: nanami kento won the poll, so here we are!!! its relatively shorter than the current style i have, but i hope you still like it. and yes, i added a spoiler for shoko and geto's sister (since shoko won #2 in the poll, she also gets a fic!!!). they are still together cause god knows they need love and care after all they have been through. anyway, i hope you all enjoy this!!! i love you all and see you in the next one <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

THIS WAS A RARE OPPORTUNITY.  You don’t like going to these high social events at all, not even outside Jujutsu society. You were a homebody, you adored having time to yourself. But you can’t ignore Gojo Satoru’s invitation. Even if you want to.

He’s been so good to your Kento and he’s always making sure that none of the old farts are making his life miserable. So you felt inclined to go. You felt inclined to play a little bit with this world. 

The grand hall of Gojo manor was resplendent, a wash of gold and white with shimmering drapes that caught the light of the crystal chandeliers overhead. Gojo Satoru was not thrilled to host the gathering. But since it was his duty as the Gojo clan head and he had to play nice with all these people — he gave in and threw the party.

Of course, he refused to make it exclusively a sorcerer only gathering. He wanted to ensure that it was open to everyone, even yourself. That in itself breaks tradition. More often than not, it was only sorcerers, especially those in the higher echelons of Jujutsu society, who were allowed to come and enjoy such liberties. 

But of course, Gojo Satoru was not such a man of tradition. He hated it, as much as your Kento. So, of course, to enjoy you and Kento’s company and to spite all these snobs, he made sure to invite you and everyone else.

You find that you’re at least enjoying the building’s architecture. You were a fan of architecture, in all forms and culture. You and your husband Kento shared that passion, more so when you both were in Denmark or when you both were in the countryside. 

Still, Gojo manor was not too bad. You marvel at the intricate carvings on the walls depicting centuries of legendary battles and heroics of history gone by. Each one was a reminder that this was not just a gathering but a showcase of the Jujutsu world's most powerful and influential. 

Sorcerers mingled, their robes embroidered with clan symbols and sigils that spoke of generations of power and prestige. Conversations buzzed with a mix of guarded politeness and subtle rivalry.

The room alive with an undercurrent of competition disguised as small talk. The sound of polite laughter mixed with the clink of glasses filled with aged sake, its delicate aroma weaving through the air like a ghost.

You stood near the buffet table, the scent of delicacies. Gojo Satoru did well with getting everything together for this, especially the food, all high quality — only the best of the Gojo clan head’s tastes. You both think the same in that exquisite taste. 

That certainly is why you were excited to taste everything. From the perfectly grilled yakitori, dainty bowls of ikura don, to the plates piled with fresh sashimi and brilliantly wrapped hamachi. They were all wafting around you. They were all perfect for you.

“I regret wearing this dress.” You tell yourself in a small mumble. “It’s too tight and I forgot Gojo likes good food like me. I thought he would have left it to his goons to decide the food menu…”

You were dressed in an elegant but simple gown, a deep navy blue that skimmed your figure without the drama of glittering embellishments or the boldness of vibrant silks. Compared to the ostentatious displays around you, it felt almost understated, but it was you.

You could hardly care about the fashions of Jujutsu society. You liked your fashion. And your husband did too. That was all that mattered. You adjusted the silver cuff on your wrist, a small but meaningful gift from Nanami, its cool weight reassuring against your skin.

You glanced around, eyes catching a few familiar faces. There was Nitta Akari from administration and management, gesturing animatedly as she spoke with her colleagues, her face flushed with excitement. Mei Mei stood nearby, her icy beauty undiminished by the cool smirk she wore. 

She held court as always, eyes sharp as a hawk’s as she listened, spoke, and effortlessly commanded the attention of everyone within earshot. Hell, there was Usami too — but he was surrounded by those vultures from the conservative factions. 

But most of the women were like the wives of powerful clan leaders. They represented their husbands, who thought it too boring to join the gathering or rather were abandoned by their husbands to do other things. 

Yet they were powerful women in their own right and they wanted you to know it. They wanted for you to see it, so badly. Their outfits elaborate displays of status, from the gold-threaded kimonos to the jewels woven into their hair.  Their makeup was meticulous, brows arched and lips painted in deep shades of crimson or plum. 

Most of them were interesting to gawk at. But you were certain they thought the same about you. Especially those specific women. It was those more haughty women, clan women under the big three who glanced your way with subtle, evaluating eyes.

You could feel their scrutiny as tangibly as the satin ribbons brushing your wrists. A fan fluttered as a woman whispered behind it, her gaze cutting sideways toward you. She looked as haughty and dry as her entire face.

“Do you think she really fits in here?” one murmured, just loud enough for the question to reach your ears.

“I heard she’s not even a sorcerer.” came the response, this time with a touch of incredulity. “Yet they let her come near our children, to teach them about a world they don’t dwell in. Pathetic waste of time!” 

You pretended not to hear, reaching for a skewer of yakitori to busy your hands. But your pulse quickened, not with embarrassment, but with the awareness of the reason behind their thinly veiled curiosity. They must have been Zenin women, perhaps married to the higher ranked men in Zenin Naobito’s circle. You felt bad for them, yet you also hated them. 

But you knew that wasn’t the case for their hatred of you. Not exactly. It wasn’t the fact that you were an outsider, a non-sorcerer working as a window at Jujutsu High, who taught mundane subjects like history and literature to the students. 

Nor was it that the students often liked you better, seeking your lessons as a respite from their harsher training. It was the reason these women whispered behind jeweled fans and exchanged glances tinged with envy: you were the much beloved wife of Nanami Kento, the stalwart, handsome, and sought-after grade one sorcerer.

From across the room, you caught sight of him. He stood among a small circle of colleagues, the sharp lines of his tailored suit a contrast to the flowing robes around him. His expression was as stoic as ever, but there was a small shift when he saw you, a softening in his gaze that no one else would notice. 

To everyone else, he was the unapproachable, severe sorcerer who never let his guard down. But you knew the way his bright eyes would close just slightly when he was tired, the low chuckle he reserved for evenings spent at home, the way his voice lowered when he told you stories of his youth.

“Good evening.” came a familiar voice that broke through your wandering thoughts. You turned to find Ieiri Shoko standing beside you, her expression one of relaxed amusement. 

She was dressed in an elegant black ensemble that perfectly complemented her laid-back demeanor, a glass of sake dangling effortlessly from her fingers. Her sharp eyes glimmered with mischief as she surveyed the room.

“Evening.” You greeted back at her, your lips sharply echoing into a smile. “Why are you alone? Where’s your darling at?”

“Oh, surrounded by those pathetic vultures.” She pointed at the table where she was talking with the Kyoto women, smiling brightly. “Ugh, I hate those freaks. I can’t believe she’s around them. They’re not even worth an ounce of her giggles.”

“Geto–san has to make good with people somehow.” You pointed out to her, humming. “Connections are just connections. But you’re her lover. It’s been some years. Breathe, Sho.”

She rolls her eyes, before smiling. “Yeah, yeah.”

“How have you been?”

“Good, as always.” Shoko retorts back, humming at you. “I just wish I had cigarettes. But she said if I tried to smoke tonight, she wouldn’t let me hit.”

You laugh at her bluntness. “I do the same to Kento too, but with his alcohol. You both have to be kept on a leash.”

 “Oh the things we do for love.” She sighed heavily before looking at the ones glaring at you both. It wasn’t hard to notice those clusters of sorcerer wives eyeing you with thinly veiled intentions. “You’re doing well against their scrutiny, I see.”

“Barely. But I do find myself enjoying it.” you admitted, a small laugh escaping despite the tension. Shoko’s company was always welcome; her nonchalance had a way of making everything seem less dire.

Shoko took a slow sip from her glass, savoring it like she savored every moment. She shifted her gaze to one of the wives, a woman with a crimson kimono embroidered so elaborately it looked more like a tapestry than a garment. The woman was whispering behind her fan, eyes darting toward you and Shoko with a practiced side glance.

“Ah, her again. I thought she wouldn’t be here after she got exposed for her affair.” Shoko said, rolling her eyes with exaggerated flair. She leaned closer, voice low but biting. “Careful, she’s liable to sprain her neck with how much she’s been glaring. I heard last time she tried something that intense, she nearly fainted from holding her breath.”

You stifled a laugh, your shoulders shaking with barely contained mirth. Shoko’s dry humor was like a breath of fresh air, slicing through the tension with an effortless charm. The woman in the crimson kimono noticed your reaction and stiffened, her cheeks blooming with indignation.

“Let them look, let them whisper. Let them be jealous of you.” Shoko said, turning her eyes back to you. Her voice shifted to something more genuine, the mocking edge softening. “They’ll keep wondering because they can’t figure it out. You’re different, and they hate not understanding something. It’s their worst fear.”

You exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding, the knots in your chest loosening. Shoko’s words were more than just comfort; they were a reminder that your place here wasn’t defined by others’ perceptions but by your own truth and by the fact that Nanami stood beside you, unwavering.

“Thanks, Sho. I appreciate it a lot.” you said, voice steadying.

She gave a small shrug, the kind that said don’t make it a big deal. With another sip of sake, she nodded toward the buffet. “Now, let’s hope they restock the good tempura. If not, someone’s getting cursed tonight, and it won’t be me.”

She winked, then sauntered away, leaving you with a smile and the indelible impression that you weren’t as alone as you sometimes felt. Once she moved to the corner to see about the temperature, you could feel from the corner of your eye.

You saw the clan wives exchanging glances again. Their perfectly painted lips tightened just slightly as Nanami Kento, breaking from his group, made his way toward you, every step a quiet declaration.

“Is it true? She’s the one married to him?” another ignorant one whispered, leaning into a group of women whose gazes darted in your direction.

“Yes, the one with Nanami Kento, the number two of the first grade sorcerers.” another foolish one confirmed, unable to keep the hint of envy out of her voice. 

You turned slightly, pretending not to hear as you picked up a small plate of delicacies. You did not care for what they wanted to say about you. You were more focused on your desire to taste the dishes. The laughter and clinking glasses around you felt muted under the weight of the tension gathering nearby.

The whispers turned to sharp murmurs, punctuated by gasps and scandalized looks. But perhaps that bothered them even more, because they started making more comments.

“Who does she think she is, that no name wanna be?” The foolish one whispered, loud enough for people to hear her. But perhaps she does not realize she was not being discreet. 

The ignorant one scoffs in disbelief, shaking her head. “What a snob! How can Nanami-san be married to her?”

Shoko heard enough of it and turned around almost immediately from the dishes to the ladies. They jumped out of their seats. She rolls her eyes at them. It was as though she was just as annoyed as she was bored with them. 

“Honestly, get over yourselves. You all look like desperate idiots.” she said, a lazy smirk tugging at her lips as she leaned casually against a marble pillar. Everyone was now looking at them. Aren’t you at least going to have the gall to say it to our face, lady Kawami?”

The woman in the crimson kimono, lady Kawami, known for her sharp tongue and her greedy  ambition gasped, her painted lips parting in shock. Beside her, another woman with intricately styled hair and a pinched expression scowled deeply. 

“How dare you—”

“Isn’t that the truth?” Shoko’s laughter was light and mocking, yet the glint in her eyes held no softness. She tilted her head, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at Lady Kawami’s reddening face. “You think Nanami Kento would like an ugly face and a bad attitude like yours? Ha! You wish!”

The crowd that had gathered to eavesdrop was stunned into silence, eyes flicking between the women like spectators at a duel. The foolish one’s face turned a deep shade of red, while the ignorant one sputtered, looking moments away from summoning her husband and causing an uproar. 

“You cannot talk to us like that!” she shrieked, voice pitched high with indignation. “My husband will hear of this!”

“Now, now, lady Kawami, you shouldn’t treat my guests like that.” The familiar, light-hearted voice of Gojo Satoru interrupted the escalating tension. The two women felt their eyes widen. They quickly bow before him. “It’s so disrespectful, don’t you think?”

Heads turned as he approached, dressed in an exquisite black and silver kimono decorated with the Gojo clan crest. Even in traditional wear, he managed to exude a casual, almost irreverent charm. His dark, round glasses perched on his nose added to the effect as he lowered them just slightly, revealing eyes that shimmered with barely concealed amusement.

“Ah, Gojo-sama.” Lady Kawami said, trying to mask her fluster with a demure nod, but the tension in her posture betrayed her. “I didn’t mean any disrespect towards her, but surely you can understand that—”

“Oh, I understand completely, lady Kawami.” Gojo interrupted, a playful grin spreading across his face. He pushed his glasses back up, letting them catch the light so that the rest of the room was reflected in them. “I understand that you’re boring my dear friend Shoko, and frankly, I can’t have that. Her girlfriend wouldn't be so happy, either. And of course, I love my friend’s happiness.”

The subtle ripple of suppressed laughter ran through the more observant bystanders. Lady Kawami’s mouth snapped shut, her eyes narrowing dangerously. It was rare for someone to speak to her like that and get away with it, but this was Gojo Satoru. A man whose reputation as the most powerful sorcerer in the room and quite possibly the world would mean his words carried weight that no amount of social maneuvering could deflect.

Shoko’s smirk widened as she raised her glass in mock toast to Gojo, her eyes gleaming. “Well, look who decided to save the day. Dashing, really, Gojo.”

He winked at her. “Anything to make sure tonight stays interesting.”

The ignorant one, still seething but now cautious, looked between Gojo and Shoko before settling on silence. The power dynamics had shifted too sharply, and she knew better than to push further. No one can go against Gojo Satoru and not face repercussions. No one. And it would have ended up badly for their husbands and their families if they did. 

You exhaled, tension releasing from your shoulders as the spectacle unraveled. A small, knowing smile touched your lips as Kento's eyes found yours from across the room, his expression softening just a fraction, and you knew that you weren’t alone in facing these moments. You were surrounded by friends who would always have your back, in their own unique, if slightly chaotic, ways.

The room’s atmosphere gradually loosened, tension shifting back to its usual simmering undercurrent. Gojo’s playful banter had disarmed the scene, leaving only the embarrassed scowls of lady Kawami and her cohort. Shoko took another sip of her sake, the glint of satisfaction in her eyes clear as she watched the women bristle and disperse.

“Good job not throwing that plate, masterful control.” Shoko said to you, her voice carrying a hint of approval. She nodded at the untouched delicacies in your hand. “Would’ve been a waste of good food.”

You chuckled softly, appreciating her humor. “Shouldn’t you be saying that to yourself, Sho?”

“Well, I mean, that’s true.” 

Gojo laughs. “Shoko would have done worse than that and we both know it.”

“Hm, but I would have you carry my food to my table.”

“Oh? Then people would be surprised, how anyone can force the Gojo clan leader to do anything on a whim.”

Before you could respond, a presence behind you made the small hairs on your neck stand up in recognition. You turned, and there he was—Nanami Kento, striding toward you with the kind of quiet confidence that set him apart from the rest.

He looked ever so handsome, your husband. But when you get him even more up close? It’s a different story. He looked even more like a god when he stood before you this close.  

He took in the scene, eyes flicking over the lingering crowd, Gojo’s smirk, and Shoko’s knowing look. Then his attention settled on you, warm and steady. “I see I missed the entertainment.” he said, his voice deep and even, but with a trace of curiosity.

Gojo lifted a hand in a lazy wave. “Ah, Nanami, you missed Shoko here defending your lovely lady’s honor with an admirable lack of diplomacy.”

Kento’s brows lifted slightly, his gaze darting to Shoko, who shrugged, unbothered. “They deserved it.” she said, as if that were the most obvious fact in the world.

With a quiet exhale, Kento nodded, accepting the unspoken truth that you were protected by bonds deeper than mere duty. He reached out, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. The small gesture spoke volumes, his touch grounding and reassuring. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, eyes searching yours for any trace of discomfort.

You smiled up at him, your earlier tension melting away entirely under his gaze. “I am now.”

The corners of his mouth twitched in what might have been a smile, subdued as always but unmistakably there. The few remaining onlookers, who had hoped to catch a new drama unfolding, exchanged glances before deciding they had better places to be.

Gojo clapped his hands, shattering the delicate silence that had settled. “Well, now that we’ve cleared the air, what do you say we toast to another evening of society’s finest theatrics?” His grin was as wide as ever, his glasses reflecting the chandelier’s light like a pair of miniature suns.

Nanami shook his head, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes as he glanced at you, then back at Gojo. “You never change, Gojo.” he muttered, the ghost of a smile touching his lips.

“And wouldn’t it be boring if I did?” Gojo countered, raising a brow.

Shoko raised her glass, smirking at Gojo before tipping it toward you and Nanami. “Unwavering loyalty and keeping things interesting!” she said.

You lifted your plate with a grin, and Kento, never one for dramatics, simply inclined his head. But the unspoken promise in his gaze, the silent support he offered, said more than any toast or witty comment ever could. In a hall filled with power, it was that quiet moment, surrounded by friends and the one who held your heart, that resonated most.

Soon enough, Shoko returned to her girlfriend with her plate stacked with food on one hand and the other holding a glass of wine. Her girlfriend, Geto Suguru’s younger sister, was waiting for her at one of the tables by the back.

Of course, Gojo Satoru returned to moving about and greeting everyone, but he seemed to have been halted by lord Kawami, probably trying to get things straight and settled. No one likes losing his favor after all. It was better that everything was smoothed out with him.

The incident however did not stop the women from continuing to look at your husband wantingly. One of the clan leader’s wives, her jeweled fan hiding half her face, whispered something to the woman beside her. They glanced over, eyes narrowing as if they could decipher what spell had ensnared someone like Nanami Kento.

“They’re watching again.” you murmured, feeling a twinge of jealousy and self-consciousness.

You immediately caught the glance of a woman adorned with a striking emerald necklace that glittered every time she turned. Her expression was polished and unreadable, but the pointed way she looked at you sent an old, familiar discomfort crawling up your spine.

Kento’s presence next to you was a calm in the storm, an anchor against the waves of whispers and stares. He tilted his head slightly, just enough that the room’s golden glow cast warm highlights across his sharp features. His eyes, serious and unwavering, met yours.

“I don’t like the way they’re looking at you.” You whisper to him.

“Let them, honey.” he said, his deep voice rich with certainty. “That’s all they can do.”

He took your hand, calloused but gentle, and squeezed it just enough to send a rush of comfort through you. His thumb traced the side of your hand in a subtle, soothing gesture. The cool metal of his ring finger brushes against your skin with intent. 

“They should know that I am exactly where I choose to be. I’m a married man, after all.”

A silence swept over the nearby crowd, as if Nanami Kento’s words, though spoken softly, carried through the hall like a sudden change in the wind. The clan leaders’ wives, women who could command a room with a flick of their eyes or a whisper laced with intent, shifted uncomfortably. For all their power, their meticulously curated reputations, and the alliances they upheld like prized heirlooms, they had never been the center of such unwavering devotion.

Akari from administration glanced over and offered a subtle nod of approval, a small smile playing on her lips as she resumed her conversation. Mei Mei, sharp-eyed and ever perceptive, caught the moment as well. She raised her glass, her smirk deepening as though to say, well played.

The subtle tension that once swirled around the room, woven through glances and whispers, began to dissipate. Some turned their attention back to their conversations, laughter resuming, but not without the occasional glance in your direction, this time tinged more with begrudging respect than judgment.

“Kento, baby.” you said softly, a small smile breaking through as your heart settled back into its natural rhythm. The weight of self-consciousness fell away, replaced by a warm sense of belonging that his presence always seemed to ignite.

“Hmm?” he replied, his gaze still watching you with an intensity that was rare for him, except when you were alone.

“Thank you, baby.” you whispered, squeezing his hand back.

His eyes softened, the smallest, barely-there curve of his lips showing just the hint of a smile meant only for you. “There’s nothing to thank me for, honey.” he replied, tilting his head as if to read your thoughts. “It’s simply the truth.”

══════════════════

IT HAPPENED AS QUICKLY AS ONE COULD BLINK. But you suppose you can’t help it. Your desire for pleasure was fast when it came to Nanami Kento. Much more so when you’re jealous. BUt you knew your husband liked that. More than he likes to admit to you.

You felt a delicious rush of power as you yanked him closer by his tie, leading him out of the crowded hall. Away from the watchful eyes and mingling strangers, it was just the two of you in the quiet, dim hallway, with only your quickened breaths filling the silence.

The door closed behind you, and before you could say another word, his hands were on you, strong and possessive, pressing you back against the cool tiles of the bathroom wall. His fingers traced over your hips and along your waist, leaving a tingling heat in their wake.

It was as if he was memorizing every inch of you all over again. You looked up at him, catching his gaze; his eyes were heavy with desire, and the way he looked at you made your knees feel weak. He was entirely yours in that moment, and you were entirely his.

Your hands slid up his chest, feeling the warmth beneath his shirt, his heartbeat echoing your own. His mouth was on yours again, the kiss deep and ravenous, filling the space with the sounds of quickened breath and desperate touches. The world beyond the bathroom faded, leaving only the two of you, tangled in each other.

When he pulled back to look at you, you could barely catch your breath. His hand found the curve of your neck, fingers tracing gently along your jawline, and your own hands gripped his shoulders, grounding you as your pulse raced.

“You’re so good….” you managed to whisper breathlessly, your voice trembling as you tried to form words. "Kento….." you murmured, the words spilling out between gasps, each syllable almost a sigh as you clung to him. 

The intensity of his gaze made you shiver, your own desire reflected in his eyes. He leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek, and you felt a thrill ripple through you as he whispered your name. His breath felt hot, so tenderly warm against your skin. And even more so when he said your name in that breathy way. That made you feel even more excitement.

For a moment, you both paused, catching your breath as the heat of the moment washed over you. His fingers brushed along your cheek, his thumb tracing the corner of your mouth, as though savoring this quiet, charged moment before pulling you back in with the same raw, electric passion.

And in that hidden space, the two of you lost yourselves, caught in the perfect, unbreakable intimacy that felt like a world away from the bustling party. If you both had your way, both of you would have been locked away from the world. All you needed was each other.

His hands explored with a possessive tenderness, each touch leaving trails of fire across your skin. You let out a shaky breath, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he pressed his lips along your jaw, down to the sensitive spot just below your ear. You shivered, feeling him smile against your skin, clearly pleased at the effect he was having on you.

You pulled him even closer, fingers moving from his shirt to his tie, loosening it slightly, just enough to slide it off his neck. Your breath hitched as he leaned in, his eyes fixed on you with a focused intensity that made you feel as though you were the only person in the world.

"Can’t believe you dragged me out here, honey." he murmured, his voice low and teasing, his words sending a thrill through you. "But I’d follow you anywhere. I’ll make love to you anywhere you want me to."

His words made your heart race, and you felt the butterflies from earlier stirring again as he leaned in, his mouth meeting yours with a new urgency. It was as if all the tension from the night poured into that kiss, building into something raw and unstoppable.

As he pulled you closer, his fingers gently brushed your hair back from your face, and you caught his gaze, breathless. You couldn’t help the small, breathless laugh that escaped as you looked at him, both of you a little dizzy, a little wild.

“This is dangerous, you know, baby.” you whispered, a playful smirk dancing on your lips as you tightened your hold on him. But he only raised an eyebrow, his own grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Good.” he replied, his voice a low murmur. "Wouldn’t have it any other way."

Soon enough, you were under his thumb. His movements grew rougher, each thrust deep and unrelenting, sending a surge of sensation through you that bordered on overwhelming. Every press of his body against yours was a heady mixture of strength and passion. 

And it was all you could do to cling to him, fingers digging into his shoulders as the intensity built. His pace quickened, and you felt your back arch instinctively, unable to control the way your body responded to him.

Your breaths came in sharp, shallow gasps, each one catching in your throat as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge, his touch both possessive and tender. Your senses blurred; the world narrowed down to the feel of him, the heat between you, the way he whispered your name against your skin in a voice that was both rough and reverent.

Every movement, every thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, each one pushing you further until you were lost in the sheer intensity of it all. You gripped him tightly, almost desperately, as though grounding yourself against the delicious onslaught. 

His name left your lips in broken gasps, and as you met his gaze, the shared passion and vulnerability in his eyes were enough to undo you completely. Everything about your husband makes you feel alive. Especially at this moment. He was good at making you cry for life.

In that moment, you felt yourself surrender, giving in fully to the dizzying rush, to him, and to the warmth and bliss that consumed you both. You shifted slightly beneath him, the heat of your body still trapped in the shared intimacy of the moment. The words escaped you before you could stop them, your jealousy bubbling to the surface. 

"I saw the way they were looking at you tonight, baby." you whispered, your voice a blend of frustration and desire, your fingers gripping his shoulders tightly. "All those women... They were ogling you, making eyes at you, and I couldn’t—"

His breath hitched at the raw honesty in your voice. His eyes darkened, a flicker of something primal flashing across his face. Without breaking his rhythm, he leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he growled, "Don’t you dare think about them. You're the only one I want. I only want my wife. My little precious wife."

His words were a balm, but the way his body moved, the deep, relentless thrusts, were what truly silenced your insecurities. The force of each movement was almost punishing, his hips driving into you harder, making your head spin with pleasure. His hands gripped your hips, steadying you as he picked up speed, his breath ragged against your skin.

"You think I want them?" he asked, his voice a dark, velvety rasp. "No. It's you, only you. Always been you." His words came out in desperate gasps, the intensity of his thrusts growing, pushing you both to the edge. "You’re mine. No one else matters."

You moaned, feeling a thrill surge through your chest, his raw claim igniting something deeper within you. His pace never faltered, and as he rams into you harder.

Each movement seems to strip away the last remnants of your doubts. Your body responded, the tension in you winding tighter, tighter, until you were sure you'd break. You could barely speak, your voice hitching as you met his powerful thrusts with a soft whimper, your body rocking with the force of him.

"I’m jealous, baby. I always am." you admitted, your hands tracing down his chest, grasping at him desperately, the words slipping between gasps. "But you're mine too. Only mine."

"Always have been, honey. Only yours." he replied, his hands pressing you harder into the cold tile as he moved faster, pushing you further toward the edge with each heated thrust. 

His voice was a low growl, his rhythm unrelenting, and you could feel him losing himself as much as you were, both of you consumed by the need, the overwhelming desire to claim and be claimed.

The moment his lips crashed into yours, everything else seemed to melt away. The overwhelming intensity of the kiss mirrored the urgency of his movements, his body pressing deeper into yours, each thrust sending waves of heat through you. The kiss was possessive, his tongue claiming yours with the same hunger that burned between you both.

As he pushed deeper, his rhythm becoming relentless, you felt a broken cry escape from you, a mixture of pleasure and raw emotion that you couldn’t hold back. His eyes, dark with desire, caught yours, and for a moment, you saw something deeper than just lust—something primal and protective, something that made your heart race in a way you couldn’t explain.

"You’re so fucking beautiful, honey." he whispered against your lips, his voice rough with the same need he’d been building in both of you. “My wife is so fucking beautiful.” 

His hands moved to your hips, pulling you impossibly closer as he thrust deeper, pushing you to the brink, your cries turning into soft whimpers as your body was caught in the storm of sensation. It felt so good, it always has been.

The deeper he is, the deeper the pleasure fills you. The more you cry out and moan. The more he tries to defy the possibilities, thrusting deeper to fill you more and more.

The tears that pricked the corners of your eyes weren't from pain—no, it was something more complex, something that left you breathless. It was the weight of the connection, the force of his touch, and the emotional release that you hadn’t expected.

All combined into something that made your chest tighten with overwhelming feeling. You cried because he was inside you in every way, not just physically but emotionally, each thrust deeper, each kiss harder.

Kento pulled away slightly, his thumb brushing away a tear that had slipped down your cheek, his breath hot against your face. His eyes softened for a moment, but the hunger in them never dulled. 

"You’re mine, only mine, wife." he breathed, his voice low but full of meaning, before kissing you again, harder this time, as though proving to you what he’d just spoken.

The kiss deepened as he pulled you even closer, his body pressing against yours with a fervor that made your entire being hum with raw need. You could feel every inch of him, every movement of his muscles, and it was as if the world had disappeared entirely, leaving just the two of you tangled in this electric, consuming moment.

His thrusts became more forceful, each one driving deeper, pushing you to the edge of something wild and uncontrollable. Your nails dug into his back, clinging to him for support as his mouth moved from yours, trailing down your neck, biting and sucking as he marked you, claiming you completely.

"Don't hold back, honey." he murmured against your skin, his breath ragged. "Let go for me. I need you to feel this... all of it."

You couldn't hold back, not anymore. Not even if anyone was to hear outside. You didn’t feel bad about being this loud because it was your pleasure. About the pleasure he was giving you. He was making you feel good and you wanted him to know it. 

“Good baby, my good little wife. Take me. Take me whole.”

His words hit something deep inside, and you cried out, your voice a broken whisper as your body surrendered fully to him, to the pleasure, to the overwhelming emotions that swirled inside you. His name escaped your lips in a desperate, breathless moan, and the sound seemed to spur him on, his pace quickening as he met you with relentless urgency.

Each thrust pushed you further into a frenzy of sensation, and the pleasure that had once been distant now consumed you completely. The tears that had been building in your eyes spilled over, not from pain, but from the intensity, from the way his body moved with yours in perfect rhythm, from the way he made you feel so utterly seen, so completely his.

Kento’s hand moved to your face, his thumb gently swiping at the tears on your cheek, a tender touch amidst the feverish passion. His eyes softened for just a moment, but then they hardened with desire as he kissed you again, his tongue tasting your lips, your moans swallowed by the deep kiss.

"You're everything to me, honey." he growled, his voice barely audible between breaths. "And I’ll make sure you never forget that."

His words, the way his body pressed into yours, the way his hands held you so firmly. It all built up to something so deep, so visceral that you couldn’t tell where your body ended and his began. Everything inside you snapped, the waves of pleasure crashing over you in a rush, leaving you breathless and shaking in his arms. 

Your cries were mingled with his own as he lost himself in the moment, the sound of skin against skin filling the small space as you both gave in to the release, the powerful culmination of everything that had been building between you.

As the waves of pleasure slowly subsided, leaving both of you breathless and spent, the quiet hum of the room returned, only now it felt like a distant memory compared to the electric tension between you. You both lingered in the aftermath, bodies still pressed together, hearts racing in sync. 

Your breath was ragged, your fingers tracing the sweat-slick skin of his back, grounding yourself in the sensation of him still so close. The room was quiet, save for the soft rustling of your clothes and the echo of your breaths.

But just as you began to collect yourself, a sound broke the stillness—a soft thud of footsteps, followed by the faint murmur of voices. Your heart skipped a beat as the realization hit. Your boldness had gotten inflated by sanity. 

You both hadn’t noticed the soft creak of the door, hadn’t heard the hushed conversations approaching. And then, before either of you could react, the door was pushed open, revealing the clan wives, standing in the doorway, eyes wide with shock, mouths agape.

Kento’s gaze flickered to the doorway, but when he saw the surprised looks on their faces, he didn’t flinch, didn’t move away. He stayed right where he was, his hands still possessively on you, his lips curled into a confident, unbothered smirk. He looks at you, mesmerized by you. By his want for you. Nothing else mattered. Decency, rules, proportionality — they’re done when he makes love to you.

Yet when you looked at him. Nothing else mattered. You too also didn’t care now. A sense of defiance rose within you, the fire from before still burning strong. Without a second thought, you pulled Kento closer, your hands grasping his face as you tilted your head up to meet his lips. The kiss was fierce and unapologetic, claiming him fully in front of everyone who dared to look.

You pulled away slightly, just enough to look him in the eyes, your voice low but steady, a possessive edge coloring your words. "You're only mine, hm? Forever, baby." you whispered, your fingers gently tracing his jawline as you met his smirk.

His gaze softened for a moment, his lips curling into a grin that sent a shiver down your spine. "Always, honey." he replied, his voice a low rumble that held all the certainty in the world. “Forever.”

The clan wives stood frozen once again, caught between disbelief and curiosity, but neither of you acknowledged them again. You didn’t need to. Kento's words, and the way he held you, told them everything they needed to know.

You were his, and he was yours.

Forever.

[perenlop]

Also backtracking on Chip having a famous explorer as a dad cause I realize that doesn't really track with my timeline sldkfjsdlf. Rescue and Exploration teams are a very new thing at this point, they're still working out how the system and how to go about recruiting and training teams. Team A.C.T. is one of the older teams and they've still only actually been around for like, 10 years at most (Nuri and Chip are in their 20s). I guessss it's possible but idk. Either way I don't think that'll factor into his character much anymore cause I've decided he lives in a Skitty colony back home