#Jujutsu kaisen Nanami

[eraserbread]

Husband Nanami driving and taking care of us after getting our wisdom teeth removed 👀?

so cuteeeee ٩>ᴗ<)و i needed to write this i think it healed me a lil

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when nanami saw you again in the afternoon, your face was a swollen shiny rendition of the one he dropped off this morning. it was only three hours ago, but it felt like a lifetime. kento's never had to see you like this, and as you nod off in his passenger seat, he's more than happy to wait until you're settled enough to drive off.

"we'll go if you're feeling okay." he's using a soft voice, privy to the fact you're still prisoner to the effects of anesthesia. nanami leans over and grabs the top of your thigh, squeezing there to let you know you're with him. either he's stupidly biased, or his wife still looks stunning with a swollen face and bloody lips. especially when you turn and pout at him, pretty eyes all glassed over and pained.

"go. go, hurts." your words are mushing into each other, leaving ken with the task of piecing them together again. he hears your pain and is so fucking quick when he turns over the engine and starts back home.

on the way back, you start to liven up again, noting passing street signs and commenting on how delicious kens arms look in his long-sleeved shirt. most of what you're saying doesn't make sense to him, but it does to you. it does just enough to get you going with tears in your eyes and conviction behind your tone.

just like when you saw two stray cats tail-in-tail through the neighborhood. ken drove by them so fast that he didn't even notice, but the sight of them made you fucking sob.

"ouh, ken, it's us." you whine, grasping at the window like you want to get out. as they fade off into the distance, you're left whining and begging him to turn around so you can take them home.

"what?" he's hardly regarding you, but his hand is still pressed to your thigh.

"the kitties - two of'em, so cute." you slur, sniffling back the promise of tears. "if you were a kitty, I know you'd protect me. you act all big n mean like a hissy kitty, then tell me I'm pretty... i jus' love you so much."

"kitties can't speak, nanami baby." he starts, just to be reasonable. then, he gives you what you want. "but, you're right. i'd find some way to call you pretty if I was a cat."

then, kento spends the next three days off of work and by your side. he spoon-feeds you soft yogurts and ice cream, completely blending your favorite meals so it's easier on your mouth. impossibly, he refrains from kissing your pouty, swollen lips. he'll just graze over your cheek in passing and still call you beautiful.

it's the least he can do after you've done so much for him. and it's caught in these stupid little moments when you don't know what you're saying, that reminds him why he chose you for a lifetime.

[lexluvsmegs]

Just thinking about Nanami helping virgin!Ino fuck you for the first time.

Ino feels as if he was on cloud 9 after finally asking you, his sexy class mate, to be his first ever girlfriend. He’s nervous, that much is painfully obvious, his sweaty hands fiddling as he blurts the words out trying his very best not to stutter. His hopes aren’t set too high since you’re… you. But when you smile that beautiful smile and nod your head in acceptance he leaves with hearts in his eyes. Literally.

He’s in love, there’s no doubt about it. You’ve been going out for a few months now and Ino has been nothing but a gentleman, pulling out all the stops to keep you impressed. He’s made you playlists with your favourite songs, taken you out to fancy restaurants, bought you the clothes you’d been eyeing. What more could a girl want?

However, there was one aspect about dating that was weighing hard on him, and that was sex. You see, you were hot, and Ino was a virgin. That may not seem like such a big deal. But to him? It was the end of the world. His insecurities were eating away at him. What if he wasn’t good enough for you? What if he couldn’t satisfy you? In his mind, everything could go wrong.

And that’s how Nanami found himself here, positioned on the edge of Ino’s bed as you lay naked, sprawled across the plush mattress with Ino knuckle deep inside your gushing pussy following Nanami’s instructions as if his words were law. Ino had practically gotten down on his knees when he begged for the older man’s help, he really couldn’t lose you. Thankfully, Nanami took sympathy on the poor boy. He couldn’t deny that you were stunning, so maybe it was a little selfish when he agreed to the terms with the promise of seeing you in such a compromising setting. Call him a perv but just the thought of you was able to make his pants feel just the bit tighter.

“Angle your fingers like this” he sounded calm and composed, but in reality he had never felt so excited. Nanami shuffled closer as he grabbed Ino’s hand and repositioned it until it had you moaning out his name. God did Nanami want it to be his name next.

“T-that feel good baby?” Ino felt breathless as his fingers kept up his ruthless pace. You couldn’t form a proper sentence being too overwhelmed by the immense pleasure you were feeling. However, the endless whines that fell from your lips let the two men know exactly how you were feeling.

Nanami felt his resolve break slightly as he knelt down next to Ino who looks at the blond with a confused glint in his eyes. Nanami, however, wasted no time as he lowered his head to be eye level with your gushing pussy. With a deep inhale of your scent he finally opened his mouth to taste your juices and immediately groaned.

“Tastes so good” you can barely make out the words as he sloppily laps his tongue over your clit causing you to snake a hand into his golden locks and pull. His tongue felt like heaven as it dipped deep into your hole, tracing his name over your puffy lips not allowing you the chance to catch your breath. Babbles of his name leave your mouth in huffs as you feel yourself reaching your first orgasm. To your disappointment, Nanami halts his movements of nipping and sucking at your clit and sits back. Fucking tease.

“She should be ready for you now” his voice is so husky and damn is it sexy. Ino immediately fumbles as he stands, nervous yet hard as a rock, his cock bobs as his flushed tip falls from his lower belly. You hadn’t yet had time to properly inspect it but my god, it was long. By no means was it ugly, you would argue that it was one of the prettiest you had seen, prominent veins led up to his raging head that pulsed with the need to be buried deep within you. Your legs would have closed if it weren’t for Nanami’s strong hands keeping them wide open.

Ino climbed onto the bed, his weight held up by his shaking arms. “So wet f’me baby… you ready?” His gentle tone had you melting deeper into the sheets as you gave a slight nod. He took this as his chance to reach one hand down to pump himself a few times before lining himself up and pushing his cock inside. The three of you groaned, Nanami transfixed by how well you were able to take Ino’s cock. He wondered how you would be when taking his.

Ino felt like he was in heaven as your gummy walls wrapped around him so perfectly. “P-please move” your hoarse voice called out which spurred Ino to snap his hips down into you leaving you gasping. An uneven tempo was created, though, Nanami could tell Ino’s pace wouldn’t bring you to finish, therefore he took matters into his own hands, resting a large palm on Ino’s lower back as he guided his strokes. If Nanami hadn’t promised to help Ino he would have probably taken you for himself, his hard length screaming for relief as he palmed himself with his free hand.

With the new pace set, Ino was making you see stars as he hit deep within you. Your arms wrapped around his back as your nails dug deep, Ino groaned at the thought of you leaving marks and claiming him as your own. His hips stuttered as you pulled his face close to yours, sloppily kissing and licking into his mouth. You were gonna be the death of him. You broke the kiss to look down at where he was pounding into you and instead noticed the bulge that was forming in your belly every time Ino would push back in. Ino followed your eyeline and couldn’t help but whine as he found the source of your attention. He was filling you so good you could barely process your impending orgasm.

The feeling was intense as you tried to wriggle away from the shocks of pleasure racking through you. “S’too much” tears began streaming down your face as Ino’s pace never faltered.

“Stop whining, you can take it” Nanami’s harsh voice rang out.

“S-so close” you whine out, you can tell he and Nanami are the same as they moans filling the room grow desperate. And as you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him close, he empties out into you causing your own orgasm to crash over you.

You feel a hand petting your hair as you come down from your high, turning to face Nanami as he offers you a sweet smile. You pretend not to notice the obvious stain now gracing his light pants and instead smile in return as Ino slumps his body atop yours.

Virgin!Ino who’s no longer a virgin.

——

© lexluvsmegs 2025 ➳ ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 

PLEASE DO NOT Copy, Translate, Re-Upload, or Steal ANY of my work.

Thank You, Beautiful People! :)

[pmpmyread]

Okay. I can’t hold back anymore, I must share this FANTASTIC commission crafted by the amazing @aliasnnmknt!!

A couple of weeks ago, I reached out to Teri to see if she could help me bring an idea to life. This was the first time I’d ever commissioned an idea including an original character/MC, and watching Teri turn my scattered descriptions and references into the EXACT vision I had for this character was like witnessing magic. And we all know Teri’s depictions of Nanami are always A1 (and if you don’t know, you must check out her page, yesterday lol).

The level of detail she managed to incorporate in this is truly incredible, from the braids and the charms, to the sheet music, to the specific vinyl LPs! The mood captured here, in the facial expressions, in the posture and overall body language is immaculate and so true to what I wanted to convey.

I feel so blessed to have been able to collaborate with such a talented artist and to add such a wonderful illustration to this little idea that has been trotting in my mind for a while. I keep staring at it in awe and I am using it as fuel as I put the finishing touches to this story.

Working on this was such a delight, Teri is so kind, patient and incredibly quick! Thank you @aliasnnmknt, for taking my request and for crafting such a lovely piece! Anyone reading this, run, don’t walk to her blog — she delivers banger after banger after banger!

This concept is based on an upcoming Nanami x Reader fic of mine titled Syncopation. It’s a story that tackles themes that are so meaningful to me, such as combatting stifled creativity, finding purpose in life, and learning to accept love, and it’s all set against a backdrop of modal jazz music as a genre.

I’ll be posting it in the upcoming days, in the meantime, I’ve put a snippet below, if you’d like a sneak peek:

If you made it this far, thanks for reading and I hope that you'll enjoy the full story! Now go follow the wonderful @aliasnnmknt!

[goaskangel]

drunk sex with your sexy co-worker nanami!

cw : drunk sex, dubcon, mentions of breeding, toxxxiicc, suicide mention

mmm, you want nanami so fucking badly. 

you thought this new, high-end job was going to be good for you, get you on the right track for the stability you’ve been craving. sugar daddies or plain suicide crossed your mind an awful lot but fortunately,(?) that wasn’t the case. 

so easily distracted, you should’ve seen it coming. when overworked yet diligent personified passed you during work hours. oh, fuck me running through your crowded head as you squeezed your skirted thighs. 

maybe it was a good thing because you certainly cleaned up your act. got to work on time so he wouldn’t think you were slacking, ironed your new work clothes so he wouldn’t frown at the wrinkles of your button-up, or god forbid scoff. you already got the job so now you just needed some recognition from an older man. that you work with. that’s never looked in your direction. 

but god, he’s such delectable eye candy. 

you’re hesitant to attend your company’s 10 year anniversary. at a bar of all places, guess the work really gets to everybody. but you’re a lightweight and would probably sit all alone, trying to make crappy small talk to the bartender. probably hot too, but you think about nanami.

you know he drinks—past all his clean habits of combed hair and tailored suits, his breath fails to conceal his habits the night before. 

coworkers constantly joke about it and you finally got the treat of looking through his pristine behavior with the thick whiskey lingering on his tongue. 

if you were worse, you would’ve leaned in, arms around his neck and sucked all the alcohol right off his mouth. 

but the best you can get right now is sitting across all your colleagues, sipping on a cocktail whilst they laugh and enjoy themselves.

until nanami’s sitting right before you, getting away from his work “buddies” to finally relax in what seems to be his happy place. you can’t help but stop drinking, your eyes glued right on how he fixes to untighten his tie a bit. thick and nice arms revealed when he scrunches his blue sleeves up. the golden hair of his forearm makes your mouth dry enough for you to start sipping again.

your dummy brain resorts to more, harder alcohol to ease the anxiety, or lust, in your body. the way he just unfolds on the velvet furniture is enough to make you throb dully. asking the server for another drink while sitting back, his meaty thighs perfectly molded by his khakis. 

poor you, all drunk for nothing. nothing but to stare at just how sexy he is. you could’ve made a move on his tipsy self now that you had the confidence. woozy confidence that could be ignored the monday after if it didn’t go right—but it’s too late. you might as well just call a friend to come and pick your-drunk-for-nothing-self. 

you wobble to the exit, holding onto any spiraling furniture or fixture you can get a hold of. at least you got a good look at him, was it worth the expensive drinks? is it worth the hangover tomorrow morning? whatever, you’re going. leaving and flopping onto bed with your slippery cunt and dull heart. 

“hey, hon. leaving so soon?” thick whiskey from a pristine mouth. sharp and tall, somehow you’re standing right beside nanami without seeing him even get up.

calling you hon, leaning against the burgundy painted walls and obviously tipsy. 

“mmh, don’t know, i guess i…jus’ got bored.” you clutch your purse and lean on the wall out of clumsiness. 

“bored, hmm? new and nobody’s bothered you, yet?” he chuckles and you swear it feels like you’ve taken another shot. “lucky girl.” 

he gets closer to you, “you weren’t going to drive all by yourself, yeah? here, how about you stay for a little longer and i promise you won’t be bored.” hefty fingers coming by your face to twirl your hair. he’s drunk, god knows how many cups it took but even then, he’s much more tolerant than you. you can’t object, and why would you? he’s the perfect man at not such a perfect time but when else would this happen? nodding with a dazed expression, he just leads you.

big arm guiding you with his palm on the small of your back. his heat and touch getting to you. you lean into it so hard that when he’s got you pushed up to the powder table of a single women’s bathroom, you don’t notice until he’s going back to lock the door. 

you sit in a small, little, glazed wooden space with a mirror behind you, crammed in slightly. a sudden throb to the side of your skull as he walks back up to you, the alcohol hitting back at you with waves of headaches causing you to moan and whine. 

“hey, hey–shh, nanami’s gonna make it all better, okay?” slurring his words slightly, possibly getting drunk off of you. pretty, new girl all to himself, finally. even if you are half gone, with your squinting, tired eyes and whines. 

he runs his hands all over you, drunk and lustful eyes watching every wince and twitch that your heightened body makes, throwing your head back when he thumbs at your clothed pussy, your skirt pushed up. slowly undressing you; your tits exposed with hastily unbuttoned buttons and a rip of the middle of your bra. your skirt pushed past your pelvis to tear your little panties off. contorting your smaller body to rest your limp legs up so he can have his way with you. 

“mmmpgh—augh, please. fuck, ohh!—” your back arching when he wiggles his hips to meet yours. nanami’s cock, much bigger than you ever imagined, burying inside of your little cunt. 

“just take it, baby. mhmm, let it happen.” he coos at you, a much bigger difference considering how he’s fucking himself into you throughly. your head spins at the impact, unable to even understand what’s going on around you but holy shit does it feel good. the way his cock is completely hugged by your pussy, throbbing around him while spilling arousal down your ass to the marbled floor. 

you feel an instant yet hidden orgasm come on when he tells you just how much he’s been waiting for this. for a time where he can take you out of nowhere, where you’re so pliable and perfect just for him. he knows you're a good girl, just for him. all for him. and maybe you’d be an even better girl for him by letting him come right inside you. deep enough where you couldn’t possibly finger his seed out even if you tried. maybe he could finally get you out of this boring job and take care of you for good! ^o^

[cyberrmusee]

the biggest and BEST munch! | jjk ver. PT ONE |

basically my head canons on who eats coochie and who does it best lolz! if you agree then yay! if you don’t?? idk bye? anyways, enjoy hornies!

Satoru Gojo- 11/10 KING OF THE MUNCHES!

This man… eating pussy is his favorite activity, and i don’t mean sexual activity. i mean GENERAL activity. That’s what he views it as, he does it for SPORT. This is all for his enjoyment, because HE wants the taste of YOU on his tongue.

You just got home from work? thank god! he’s been so bored all day, time to put his mouth to good use! You’re arguing? Now he’s salivating, thinking about you shutting him up with a mouth full of pussy. Don’t even get me started on when he’s stressed out.

Whatever plans you have? cancel em. Prepare yourself, you’ll need a lot of fluids after he’s done with you. He’ll come home, pissed after a long day, and before he can even fully get his shoes and jacket off, he’s pounced on you.

He just can’t fucking help himself, he needs to taste you, to feel you squirm in his grasp and tug at his messy locks. It’s the only thing that can calm him down after the days he’s had. Your taste, how insanely wet you get for him.. he thinks he’s in fucking heaven. He needs to feel every drop of your cum on his tongue and going down his throat, because he’s definitely not wasting any of it.

Holding you down while you have your nth orgasm in the short twenty minutes he’s been home. He’s eating you like a man starved, while whispering to you how much he needed this— “mmm fuck— needed this shit so bad” is all he keeps repeating as he practically gets himself pussy drunk from the way you taste.

Kento Nanami- 10/10 CONNOISSEUR OF CUNT TASTIN’

It’s his favorite way to make you happy, and god does he

love to see you happy. You’re his everything, and all that he does, is for you. How hard he works, the money he makes, cooking dinner. All for his love.

So when he realized you loveddddd having your pussy ate, he learned every technique he possibly could. Anything to please the woman he loved most.

He would even make it so intimate and sweet, kissing down your body, whispering sweet nothings to you, promises of how he’s gonna make you feel so good. your mouth was watering.

pushing your legs apart gently, kissing your inner thighs and oh god— your favorite part, the way he’d hold your hands so firm but gentle on either side of your thighs, while he worked his mouth on you in the sloppiest ways he could.

talking you through it so sweetly while eliciting the most beautiful sounds from your pretty mouth “s’okay baby.. m’gonna get you all the way there, yeah? feelin good my love?” his jaw slackening on repeat as he languidly lapped at your needy cunt until you were whining out soft cries of how you were cumming for him, his favorite sound to hear from his pretty lady. After all, he made himself an expert at this, just for you.

Suguru Geto- 9/10 THE MEAN MUNCH

Oh he was so mean when he ate you out, he’d have you folded in half like a lawn chair, your lower half of your body tilted up and your own knees near your face as he tongue fucked you, his nose rubbing against your clit. Your legs stretching, muscles burning and aching but you were so wet and he was eating you so good you couldn’t find it in yourself to care about the pain, too focused on the pleasure.

He always ate you out like you did something wrong (most times you did). like you owed him your pussy and by god was he gonna fucking take what was owed to him.

Growling and grunting as he swirled his tongue in circles of your bundles of nerves, gripping at the plush meat of your thighs and ass. slapping it every time you dared to scoot back or try and run from him.

“stop fuckin movin slut. this is what you wanted right? stay the fuck still and let me eat.” was all he growled out before he wrapped his arms tightly around your thighs and yanked your cunt more into his mouth. he had always been an aggressive one.

he’d nip at your clit every so often just to hear you yelp and whimper. roughly tongue fucking you through three- four- five- orgasms. by now you were sure your soul had left your body and you were going to see if god was real or not, but like he said, you wanted this right?

Choso Kamo- 8/10 THE HYPNOTIZED MUNCH

Choso loves eating out, the way you taste, you’re so sweet on his taste buds. You’re his favorite type of candy, most people have a hankering for sweets, but no, he has a hankering for you, your taste was hypnotizing, he’d get lost in your sweet little cunt.

He couldn’t ever help himself, he just needed you to cum on his tongue on repeat, he needed that taste only YOU could give him. So lost in your pussy, he doesn’t hear you crying out for him.

Your body writhing and convulsing in pleasure and overstimulating pain your eyes so far back in your head, they could get stuck that way. Your hands tangled in his raven locks, yanking at them, which only added to his pleasure. “Ch-cho! i can’t give you anym-more!” no response.

You swore if you looked close enough you could see hearts and swirls in his eyes as he eyed your poor little pussy, his tongue flicking over your bundle of nerves while he maintained his death grip on your thighs, spreading you further.

“More baby.. jus’ a lil bit more.. please.. you taste so good” was the only thing he said in between suckling on your clit and dipping his tongue in your hole, his face sticky and wet with your juices, exactly how he liked it. So lost in your cunt, so pussy drunk, so.. hypnotized by your taste, he couldn’t even focus on the fact he painted his boxers white.. twice.

A/N: sorry i’ve been gone so long, work has FRIEDDDD my brain 😭 also yes, PT TWO coming soon!!

[iloveacaibowls111]

why isn’t nanami kento real.

[bakugosgothhoe]

I need him

I need him

I need him

I need him

please

yeah thinking about a touch starved nanami kento who’s like fully hunched over your body, cradling your head in his big hand while stretching you ouuut in missionary. your face smothered in the crook of his neck, his expensive cologne dizzying, hips maddening. and his thrusts are just so fucking heavy. feeling the head of his thick, pretty cock kissing against the same, overstimulated spot over and over and over and I JUST FUCKING NEED HIM OKAY? that is all, that is the post.

and he will be breeding you, sorry

[cumtastiics]

tw ( yandere. sorta suggestive. )

art teacher nanami x reader / inspired by @eevwrites yandere ballet teacher suguru

"not like that."

his voice is low, smooth, controlled. nanami kento is the kind of teacher students whisper about in hallways, the kind whose presence commands attention without effort. he’s precise in everything he does—his words, his movements, the way he stands too close now, watching the way your fingers tense around the pencil.

before you can fix it yourself, his hand covers yours, large and warm, his fingertips brushing against your skin as he adjusts your grip.

"relax," he murmurs, breath close enough to stir something at the base of your spine. "too much pressure. let me."

he leads you, slow and deliberate, guiding each stroke across the paper. but it’s hard to focus when his fingers press just a little too firmly, when his voice dips just a little too low. the silence between you is thick, charged.

then, as if sensing your distraction, he exhales, his hand slipping away. but he doesn’t step back. not yet.

instead, his fingers find your temple, grazing against your skin as he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. his touch lingers—longer than necessary, longer than it should. the pad of his thumb barely brushes the shell of your ear before he finally pulls away, slow, measured, like he wants you to notice the absence of him.

"again," he says, voice calm, but when you glance up at him, there’s something unreadable in his gaze. something dangerous. something that makes it impossible to hold his stare for too long.

[mullermilkshake]

Stretching limits.

Part 1 <- -> Part 2

You’re being chased, will you make it out unscathed?

Kento Nanami x Fem! Reader DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT,Non con,Knife play,Possessive,Forced,Vaginal fingering,Drug use/ drugging,Forced orgasm,Squirting,Mouth gag,Threat of violence,Stalking,Kidnapping,Nipple play,Hair pulling

You never should have skipped gym class. 

If you hadn’t, you might have carried on into your adulthood and gotten fitter. Much fitter so you wouldn’t try and keep your gasping lungs quiet as you ran through the abandoned building you had found yourself in. 

You would be as quiet as a mouse if you had just gone to the stupid gym.

The concrete flooring was the biggest conductor, alerting anything of your movements like it was taking revenge. What a bastard.

Who you were running form was more complicated than just a one word answer, a name or even a reason. It was horrific and it couldn’t just be explained away. No, it was an experience only others could understand when they lived it themselves, which was few and far between. 

Climbing up the stairs, bare and musty, the plastic on the ground floor was ripped away, it crinkled deadly fast, but no one spoke. You stopped, not daring to move in fear he would see you if you did. 

Slowly, you slipped your shoes off, the dust and grime already sticking to the soles of your socks. You weren’t sure if you should have kept your shoes, but there was no time, he would head up the stairs eventually so you chose to hide them. 

How did he even find you in the first place? You’d moved, changed numbers, gotten the police involved. Everything you could have done, you did. But it didn’t stop him from tracking you down like a deer in open season.

The cross hairs were right between your eyes. 

You carried on up the stairs, minding yourself past wet patches and puddles to keep an invisible path leading to you, stepping over the loose cables and forgotten equipment you couldn’t afford to trip over.

You searched and rummaged through a tool box, too inviting to leave unattended, perhaps you would find a wrench or some other weighted tool you could sling at his head. 

You knew he could dodge an attack like that, but it never swayed you to think otherwise, just in case there was a contributing factor. Maybe the sun would reverse, and rise instead of its steady drop in the sky, blind him for a second and a flying wrench would knock him over so you could get away. 

A nail gun? No the cable wasn’t nearly long enough, the big industrial ones never ran off of gas, it used the generator placed precariously in the middle of the floor over some hazardous sheets of metal over a large hole to the ground below. 

Right where you thought he was. 

Where the hell could you put your shoes? 

You cursed as quietly as possible, you were starting to panic. You finally hid them under a screwed up dust sheet you found and took the next set of stairs, crouching just in case. You hadn’t heard anything since the plastic sheet, for a foolish moment you almost talked yourself into believing that it was just the wind, and you were hiding for no reason but that hope shattered like glass.

“Darling.” His voice echoed and sounded so close. “I know you’re in here, there’s no point in hiding. It’s getting dark and I want to go home.”

You backed up slowly, never taking your eyes off of the stairwell behind you. He was baiting you, if you spoke now, he’d appear right in front of you like a ghost, a demon ready to swallow you whole. 

Part of you wanted to tease him, you’d escaped once, you’d escape again. Unless he chained you, that wasn’t the most comforting thought. You were still struggling with your breathing, you covered your mouth and took one deep breath.

Then, you snuck up, trying to at least get a floor difference between you. Think. Always be prepared, your father had said since you were little. How could you be prepared, if there was nothing to prepare with? 

Going up another flight, here was your golden ticket. 

Rope and sheets, crudely hung up as though they were drying, tents and discarded trolleys littered around on the floor. Plenty of places to hide and plenty of opportunities to slip past him. 

There were plenty of chances to get caught too. Wet and moulded newspapers, spilt candle wax and old blackened metal spoons, all hazards. 

Getting low, you moved around the sheets, looking for anything, something to inflict pain, even if it was as small as a pin, anything could hurt him. All you found was a ballpoint pen, you almost spoke out loud. 

But it was like he heard you anyway. “So you’re up here then. I guess I still know you very well, but if you think you can slip by me, you still have plenty to know about me, Darling.”

He could have been mere metres away from you by now and you wouldn’t know any difference. He was much more silent than he had even been before, had he taken his shoes off too? 

You froze in place and listened, clutching the pen as your lifeline, waited for a sign, a sound to tip you off. You could maybe slip into the neighbouring tent, but the zip, it would scream your location. You scanned the floor and found a pebble that could work as a deterrent. 

Getting down lower there was a shadow, faint, barely there but it was moving, that’s where he was. You threw it away from you, away from the stairwell and that was when you heard his footsteps. 

So you made a break for it, silently so, but still with a rocket up your ass. Freedom so close, so tasty you could smell it like a warm inviting home.  

There he was, in front of you, his back turned, but he was right fucking there, you almost blew it by your gasps you caught in time.

“If you show yourself now” He boomed, nothing like you had ever heard before, like he panicked. “I’ll forgive what you did back at the house and we can start over, if you don’t, there will be severe consequences.” 

His wrapped knife was on his back, smiling at you, you begged the inanimate object to keep quiet and it did. He still hadn’t seen you, so you kept going. But it was foolish of you to turn your gaze, even if it was just for a second. 

“There you are.” He was so quick, wrapping his fist around your hair and holding you there. He’d never done that before. “I thought I told you to show yourself when I asked.” He said your name with so much vitriol.

“Ken- ouch!”

He ripped you by your hair. “I don’t recall giving you permission to speak. Though I do recall you leaving me tied to the bed and you walking out without an explanation. Care to elaborate on what you were thinking?”

You’d put tablets into his drink, tied him down for good measure, but you underestimated the amount he needed. 

“No explanation? I had one! You took me away from everything I knew and I told you over and over to let me go!” You pushed at him, swinging the ball point pen, hoping no matter how much you hurt, you hurt him too. 

He smacked it away. “Watch your manners!” It didn’t hurt him. He just pulled you again so that you could have sworn your hair was coming out in his hand.  

He let go, much to your relief, and took your arm. It didn’t hurt any less but you could manage it. He looked so angry, the shadows of his face were so sunken, like voids, black holes under his eyes that would swallow you up. He started dragging you down the stairs.

“Stop! I’m not going back!”

“Yes you are.”

Kento pushed you up against the wall on the stairwell and squeezed your shoulders in an act to scare you, it worked too. “You will go back. I don’t treat you unfairly do I? Do I beat you or force myself on you? No, I definitely do not, so don’t act like I do.”

“It’s not what you do though. It's about how you did it, all of it!” You tried to push him away, you really did.  

He never moved, pure muscle brick house. You were just lucky you got away the first time. If you went back with him, there was no way you were getting out another time, one big fat lie you told yourself. You were never escaping him again.

“You should have let me go! I have a new life now, a job, friends and you're fucking it all up again!”

Kento got close to you, towering over, he had the same cologne on he always wore, the undertones of fresh cotton lingered, along with the tickling of his breath. “I took you with me because you were the only thing that made me feel more than just a fucking worker ant. And I won’t let that go, do you understand me? I won't allow it.”

If someone had walked in on that moment, they would have assumed they'd walked into a sensual, steamy romance novel. The mist of your breaths in the ever growing darkness, heavy breathing, closeness, your noses almost touching. But it was more like hell. 

You barely spoke, “Just let me go.”

“I won’t do it.”

“I don’t want to be with you, I just want to live my life.” Those were famous last words.

“You can live your life with me. You won’t leave me. I’m not the villain here.” He growled your name. “I’m not like those other pigs, I take care of you, make you dinner, buy you clothes, provide all of these nice things, for what?”

“I didn’t ask for any of it!” 

He took your wrists in his hand and pinned them against the cold concrete, it scraped against you, uneven and unforgiving. “I can be like the others if that’s what you want- is it? Want me to be like the others?” He pulled his knife away from his back and pushed it slowly under your chin.

“What the fuck?!” 

“I don’t want to have to use this, so I need you to behave, can you do that?”

What? Was he just going to kill you if you didn’t do whatever he wanted? Had he fallen off that deep? You found yourself fighting for self preservation and nodded, but that didn’t stop your words.

You tried to calm your tone down to a respectable calmness. “I want you to leave me alone, Kento… Please, just go.”

His voice was a whisper. “Just once, Darling.” 

“What?” You hadn't properly heard him the first time, but your gut already did.

“Just once, then it’ll be alright.” 

He held your wrists there, keeping them tight as they were. His free hand pulled the knife back and slotted it back into its holster. “I’ll put it to your throat again if you try anything.”

 He wandered, touching you in places he never had before, caressing the side of your neck, down to your hip. It was incredibly suggestive and the penny finally dropped.

“No! Kento don’t, you're better than this, I don't want this.”

“You will.” He moved in, pressed his lips on yours, but you pulled away. “Once we've done this, you’ll see why you're so special, I’ll show you just how special you are.”

He cupped your breast, your t-shirt gathering around his fingertips, squeezing hurt, the chill in the building made your skin react. He kissed you again, but quickly moved to your neck, sucking and nipping like he was starved. Lifting your t-shirt, he pulled your bra down rough, exposing your breasts to the cold air. His grip never ceased, only clamped down more, your hands were going numb already. 

“You drive me crazy.” He took your nipple in his mouth, warming you up ever so slightly. “You don’t realise what kind of man you threaten to make me.” 

The tension changed on his lips, he was marking you, the side of your breast, the soft, sensitive skin there was close to going purple. 

“Kento, stop this now before it goes further. You’ll regret it, I know you will. Don’t be like the others.” Whoever these others were. 

He pulled away and admired your body, you couldn’t see the mark, but knew just as well it was there. “You’ve made me like this.” 

His hand moved down and slid across your stomach, going straight to your jeans, to your underwear. 

“Kento.” You said with more of a blunt tone. “Stop right this minute, you don’t know what you’re doing!” 

“My conscience has never been clearer.” 

Kento pulled his tie off in a fashion he always did, something he made look sensual though he never meant to. But you knew he knew all along by the look in his eyes, it came apart in his hands and he balled it up. 

“Open.” 

You went to shake your head in defiance, he couldn’t assume you would just agree, you remained still though, the thought of the clothed knife still lingered. He took your chin and forced your mouth open, shoving the fabric into your mouth, it instantly took the moisture away. 

The pop of your button came and the heated pads of his fingertips touched you where they had never before. 

“You lied to me.” He cooed your name. “You said you didn’t want this, but your body is telling a completely different story.”

You didn’t. It was your body's response to stimuli, nothing more, you knew it was a lie he kept telling himself to make this situation more consistent with his beliefs. He was going to regret this after his spurt of clarity. He barely touched and you flinched and he even made a noise so close to a laugh, it caught you off guard more than ever. Kento was always so serious.

“You’re starved, look at you. My bet is that you’ve never even squirted before, have you?” He rubbed you, playing with the slickness to improve his movements. 

You hadn’t, you didn’t know if you could, but it wasn’t something you tried. You tensed and pushed your thighs together, he wouldn’t find out, you wouldn’t let him. 

You moved your hips to the side, recalling every self defence video you ever watched, but it all went out the other ear. He shoved his knee between your legs, pinching the skin until he touched the wall. His fingers moved over slowly, slipping, squelching around you, like he knew clitoral stimulation was the way to make you come every time. 

“Do I need to get my knife out?”

Shit. You shook your head again.

“Good. Now relax.” Why did he sound so soothing? “If I curl my fingers like this,” You were wet enough, two fingers slid in, his long, slender fingers. “You’ll experience the best orgasm of your life.”

He still held you in place, so strong, never ceasing with the amount of raw strength,  just there like he was holding up a poster on the wall. The chill had ridden up under your shift, the faint, thin hairs on your back stood up straight, welcoming goosebumps to your predicament. 

His fingers pumped at a pace that was neither acceptable for a lover, nor a quick one night stand, it was neither here nor there like it had its own rhythm. Kento’s rhythm. You could feel every inch on him, turning, squelching, moving with purpose inside you. 

“Can you see now, how you make me feel? You’re sucking my fingers in because you’re so good. You’re so good for me.” 

You weren’t good for him, you didn’t even know him. You fought alongside that thought, even when you sensed an orgasm brewing in the pit of your stomach. Using your tongue, you were able to push the tie free from your lips, mouth scraping at the barrel to collect as much saliva it could. 

“K-Kento.” 

“Hmm?”

“Stop this, I don’t want to be here.” You almost sounded defeated. 

He thrusted his fingers and even added another, stretching you out, like he could take more aggression out on you without getting violent. 

“You’re here. Right now. And nothing will change. You’re coming back with me as soon as you come all over my hand.” 

“But I-“

“But nothing. Come for me now.”

The rush accelerated, you tried to dismiss it, ignore it, because if you couldn’t feel it, then it wasn’t there. But it was, and it was fast approaching. His lips around your nipple made it go quicker, ramping up the heat to new levels, deeper, much more solid.

What the fuck is this? 

There we go.” He went faster, really moving his fingers. “I’d like you to come, pretty fucking hard now.”

It was coming, you were coming. 

What was this? Did you piss yourself? As you came, liquid shot out of you, the pressure of the orgasm beat against you as you squirmed and writhed under his touch, threatening to send you to the floor when your knees buckled. 

Wetness gushed and dripped, soaking into your jeans, all up Kento’s arm. The post orgasm clarity hit you like a ton of bricks, what a fucking idiot you were, it had gotten much darker and you still had to find a way back home without Kento finding you. There was no way you were going with him. 

He didn’t let go. 

“You’re a good girl.” He placed a soft peck on your cheek, almost cheekily to the point it stunned you. “I knew you’d listen.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you, you know that, right?”

He finally let go but kept your exit blocked “Did you think we were finished? Come on, let’s finish this at home, you’re filthy, look at your socks. I’ll run you a hot bath, okay?” 

“You aren’t listening to me!- get off!” The pain shot down your arm again as he took it again in his grasp. 

“We’re going home right now, and we’re finishing this. Don’t ever think of leaving again, who knows what’ll happen.”

And he just took you, kicking and screaming back to hell, like the devil he was. 

DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

[purinbunnii]

Reckless (Part 6)

You didn’t say goodbye.

When you left Suguru Geto lying tangled with you in that infirmary bed, soaked in sweat and sex and possessive promises whispered against your skin, you didn’t say a word.

You just slipped away.

Pulled your clothes on with shaking hands, ignored the dull ache between your thighs, ignored the way his cum still clung to you, still dripping down your inner thighs. You didn’t even stop to clean it. You just wanted to run.

Because you knew what he’d done.

He hadn’t just fucked you.

He’d claimed you.

And you’d let him.

⸻

The next morning, the previous town doctor left.

Just packed up and left like it was nothing—said his wife was ill, that he needed to move east to care for her family. You didn’t blame him. You didn’t feel much at all.

But when Sheriff Crain showed up that same evening, hand on his belt and sweat beading down his brow, he told you something you didn’t expect.

“New doc ridin’ in tomorrow. Name’s Nanami.”

And that—that—was the first time in days you felt something other than dread.

⸻

You’d heard his name before. Kento Nanami. A man with a sharp mind and sharper hands. Moved from town to town, cleaned up messes that others left behind. Quiet. Distant. All business.

Everything Suguru wasn’t.

When Nanami stepped off his horse, you felt your breath catch. He was tall, precise, dressed like a man who didn’t want to linger in the dirt too long. Blonde hair combed back neat, gold-rimmed glasses catching the light.

He looked at you once. Gave a small, polite nod.

And that was all it took.

Your chest fluttered like a schoolgirl’s.

And Suguru noticed.

⸻

Suguru hadn’t seen you in three days.

He didn’t like that.

He didn’t like the space, didn’t like the way you walked past him like you hadn’t moaned his name into a pillow, hadn’t begged him to fill you up, hadn’t clung to him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded.

You’d kissed him like you meant it.

And now you were acting like he didn’t exist.

But the moment he saw you with him—standing outside the infirmary, handing Doctor Nanami a stack of medical records, laughing softly at something he said—something in Suguru’s chest snapped.

You didn’t laugh like that for him.

You didn’t look at him like that.

And yet, there you were. Glowing. Smiling. Betraying.

⸻

That night, you heard it again.

The boots.

The heavy, slow tread across the infirmary floor long after the doors were locked.

You turned, already tense.

He stood in the shadows, hat in hand, dark hair falling loose around his shoulders, and eyes—those eyes—burning.

“You runnin’ again, sweetheart?” Suguru’s voice was soft. Too soft.

You swallowed. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I think I should.” He took a step closer. “You plannin’ on tellin’ me what the fuck that was?”

You stiffened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The hell you don’t.” Another step. “You smiled at him.”

You scoffed, turning away. “He’s my boss.”

“No.” His voice dropped. Dangerous. “I’m your fuckin’ boss.”

That made you turn. “You’re not anything, Suguru.”

A beat.

Silence.

Then—he laughed.

A slow, broken, mocking sound.

“Not anything?” His jaw tensed. “You lettin’ him touch what’s mine, sugar?”

“I’m not yours.”

“You were when I was cummin’ inside you.”

You flinched.

His smile turned sharp, twisted with something close to grief and rage.

“Was I not deep enough, sweetheart?” he said, voice cruel. “Not rough enough? Not fuckin’ good enough to keep you?”

You turned away, throat tight, shame and anger burning.

“You don’t get to do this.”

He was there before you could step back, crowding you, his palm flat on the wall beside your head, his voice in your ear.

“I gave you everything,” he whispered. “You think that polite little doctor’s gonna take care of you the way I do?”

“He doesn’t want to own me.”

Suguru froze.

His voice, when he finally spoke again, was quiet. Fractured.

“You sayin’ I hurt you?”

You didn’t answer.

He leaned in, his breath hot against your neck. “Tell me right now, sugar. Did I fuckin’ hurt you?”

You shook your head, barely. “No.”

“Then why the fuck are you runnin’?”

“Because I can’t breathe when you look at me like that.”

Silence.

And then—his lips pressed to your throat. A soft kiss. Gentle. Reverent.

“I look at you,” he murmured, “like you hung the moon.”

You trembled.

“But you keep runnin’. And now that pretty new doctor’s in town…”

His hand gripped your jaw, tipping your face toward him.

“…and I don’t share what’s mine.”

————

You thought if you kept your head down, avoided his stare, smiled politely at Doctor Nanami and filed your paperwork in silence, you might be able to breathe again.

You thought if you could just pretend nothing happened, maybe you could leave Black Hollow quietly. Maybe Suguru would forget you.

But men like Suguru Geto don’t forget.

And they sure as hell don’t let go.

⸻

It started with little things.

A cigarette left burning on your porch. The faint imprint of boot tracks outside your window. Your lantern left on when you knew you’d blown it out.

Then came the scent—smoke and leather and something male—clinging to your sheets. Your nightgown had been folded neatly on your dresser. Your door had still been locked.

And yet…

You knew. He’d been inside.

⸻

The next morning, you arrived early to the infirmary, heart pounding. Nanami was already there, sorting bandages with his sleeves rolled to the elbows, forearms dusted with flour from breakfast—he’d baked fresh bread for the staff. Of course he had.

He looked up, offering a quiet nod. “You look pale.”

You swallowed hard. “Did you lock up last night?”

Nanami nodded. “Yes. Why?”

Your fingers trembled. “No reason.”

He watched you. Always quiet. Always assessing.

And Suguru knew that, too.

⸻

He watched you from the woods. One hand resting on the worn grip of his revolver, the other clenched at his side. He could see you through the window, talking to Nanami. Smiling, soft, laughing quietly.

And something inside him fractured.

You were supposed to be his.

He’d claimed you.

He’d filled you, marked you, fucked you so full you couldn’t think straight.

And now you were giving those smiles to him?

That bastard in a clean shirt and polished boots who didn’t know a damn thing about what you looked like underneath it all?

Suguru’s jaw tightened. His eyes burned.

You were trying to replace him.

And he was going to remind you exactly why you couldn’t.

⸻

That night, Nanami offered to walk you home.

You said yes.

And Suguru saw red.

⸻

It wasn’t an hour later that the knock came on your door. Sharp. Heavy.

Not polite.

You paused, dread curling low in your stomach.

You didn’t move.

The second knock was louder. More urgent.

You stepped slowly to the door. “Who is it?”

A pause.

Then his voice, low and rough:

“Open the door, sugar.”

Your blood ran cold.

“No.”

“I ain’t askin’.”

You swallowed. “Go home, Suguru.”

Silence.

Then—

The handle turned.

The door was locked. But the click of metal told you he didn’t care.

“Suguru, don’t—”

The door burst open.

And there he stood. In the doorway, hat pulled low, shirt half-unbuttoned, chest heaving like he’d run straight through hell to get to you.

“I tried,” he rasped, stepping inside. “Tried to let you walk away.”

You backed up. “You need to leave.”

“I can’t.” His voice cracked. “I can’t fuckin’ breathe knowin’ you’re in here thinkin’ about him.”

Your back hit the wall. His body followed.

“You think he’s gonna take care of you?” he growled, his mouth brushing your ear. “Think he’s gonna fuck you like I do? Make you scream like that?”

“Stop,” you whispered.

“He ain’t ever gonna know what your pussy tastes like when you’re cryin’ on my cock.”

Your slap came hard. Loud.

His head turned from the force of it.

Then slowly… he looked back at you.

And smiled.

“You missed me,” he said, voice dark. “I can smell it on you.”

“I hate you.”

He leaned in, pressing his mouth to your neck.

“No you don’t.”

You should’ve screamed.

But instead—

You whimpered.

⸻

The gunshot stopped everything.

Suguru stilled.

Another voice called from the open door:

“Step away from her.”

Nanami.

He stood on your porch, revolver aimed straight at Suguru’s head. His stance was calm, controlled. Not a tremor in sight.

“Let her go.”

Suguru turned his head slowly, eyes locked on Nanami.

Didn’t flinch. Didn’t move.

But you could feel the shift in him. That wild, unstable energy bleeding off of him like steam off a fire.

“Oh,” Suguru muttered, stepping back from you with a sneer. “You brought the good doctor to save you.”

You tried to move between them. “Please, just stop—”

Suguru raised a hand, silencing you. “You gonna shoot me, doc? You really think she’s worth that?” He smiled. “’Cause I do.”

Nanami didn’t move. “Step outside.”

“You gonna fight me over her?” Suguru’s voice cracked into a growl. “You touch her?”

“I said—step outside.”

The air was thick. Tense. Seconds stretching like hours.

Suguru looked back at you. His eyes—wild, desperate, ruined.

“You still want me, sugar?” he asked. Not soft. Not begging.

Just truth.

Your lips parted—no sound came.

And that hesitation?

Was everything.

Suguru smiled. Not cruelly. Not angrily. But something worse.

“Yeah,” he said softly, “That’s what I thought.”

Then he turned to Nanami.

“Don’t miss.”

And walked out the door.

7

[mononijikayu]

sequel's out 🙏

https://www.tumblr.com/mononijikayu/778863077830672384/killing-me-softly-with-his-song-telling-my-whole?source=share

wildflower— nanami kento.

Your breath caught in your throat. “I—” “Do you have any idea how brilliant you are?” His voice was trembling now, thick with emotion. “You were always the smartest person in the room. You deserved to get out of here….to have everything you ever dreamed of. And instead… you stayed. You gave it all up. Why?” Tears burned the back of your eyes. “Because I didn’t have a choice, Kento.” “Yes, you did.” His voice cracked. “You could have told me. You could have called me. I would’ve—” “You would’ve what, Kento?” you choked. “Fixed my life for me? Paid my bills? Dragged me to Tokyo and pretended like I belonged in your world?” His jaw clenched. “You do belong in my world.”

GENRE: alternate universe - actor/s au!;

WARNING/S: afab! reader, use of she/her pronouns, romance, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, hurt, love, fluff, humor, light-hearted, long-term relationship, marriage, loss, emotional distress, hatred, resentment, domestic, confessions, getting together, friends, slice of life, childhood friends, distress, cheating, falling out of love, toxic relationship, drama, depression, bitterness, grief, trauma, pregnancy, explicit birthing scene, illness, post-partum depression, bodily fluids, children, therapy, explicit depiction of birthing, depiction of bodily fluids, depiction of post-partum depression, mention of blood, mention of birthing, mention of bodily fluids, mention of depression, actor! nanami, housewife! reader;

WORD COUNT: 18k words

NOTE: this took a while and im a bit sick all the sudden but i realized i have to put this out so i just decided to go on and post this. anyway, i hope you enjoy this. ready the tissue for this, its a crier. i love you all so much <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip!

the good life ― masterlist.

IT WAS HARD NOT TO KNOW WHAT EVERYTHING MEANS AFTER TWENTY YEARS OF MARRIAGE. After all that time, wouldn’t you know much about the person you were married to? This moment was not an exemption, of course. You were his wife, you knew everything about him. You just had to know.

So, as you stood there, looking at him, you knew that look. That look in Kento's caramel eyes as he’s putting on his suit. The quiet resignation. The practiced ease of sliding the tie around his neck, smoothing down his shirt, adjusting the cufflinks. Like a man preparing to go to war — except it isn’t war. It’s something worse. You knew that much.

You hum softly, curled up on the couch, and watch him from across the room. He doesn’t notice you at first, too focused on making himself presentable. Like it matters. Like any of it matters. You know where he’s going. You’ve always known.

It’s something you never said out loud, not in the past twenty years, not when the nights stretched long and lonely, not when his touch began to feel like an apology instead of love. You haven’t said a word, and he hasn’t either.

But you know all about it already.

There was no need for such words.

There was no need for anything else.

You know because when he turns around, there’s that smile all over again. That smile you fell in love with all those years ago. It was that loving, gentle smile. Strained by the weariness, the tired, and the painfully distant bitterness that dwelled over time on his face. 

And then besides that, he lies. 

He always has to know how to lie.

He was an actor by trade, after all.

"I’ll be home late, baby." he says like it means nothing, like it’s any other day. His voice doesn’t crack. His eyes don’t betray him. But you see it. You always do. And it kills you a little more each time. 

You know he loves you. It’s never been a question of love. It’s always been a question of truth. And the truth is, love doesn’t stop him from leaving. The truth is, love doesn’t make him stay. The truth is, he’s already gone before he’s out the door.

And sometimes you want to kill him for it. Even if you don’t want to, you think about it often. You think about wanting to just be angry and let yourself loose into the madness of it all. You wanted to go and have something for yourself. Even if that was a life, even if it was his life. After all that you had suffered and endured, don’t you deserve it? Don’t you deserve to take his life?

For the silence. For the way he pretends. For the way you let him. For the way you can’t bring yourself to break it all apart because maybe —just maybe— if you keep pretending, too, it’ll hurt less.

You don’t say a word when he leans down to kiss your temple as gently as he could, as lovingly as he could. You don’t flinch, you don’t cling. You don’t beg him to stay. You just hum again, quieter this time, and watch him leave like you have a hundred times before. 

And when the door closes behind him, the sound is deafening.

You stare at the door long after he's gone. Like if you watch long enough, he'll come back. Like if you sit still enough, you'll hear his footsteps retreating down the hallway. But silence is all that answers you. Silence, and the faint hum of the clock that ticks louder with every passing second.

Your hands twitch against your lap, curling into fists before releasing again. You wonder if tonight it'll be different, if he'll come home and tell you the truth. If he'll break, just once, and tell you what you already know. That there’s someone else. That his heart no longer belongs here, with you.

But it never happens. It’s never happened.

You get up after a while, wandering through the house like a ghost. You pass by the photos on the walls. The framed moments of happiness frozen in time. His smile in those pictures looks real. Like he didn’t know back then what would become of you both. You touch one of the frames, trailing your finger down his face. It feels cruel now, looking at those captured memories.

The bed feels colder when you climb in alone. You face his side, the sheets still perfectly made, undisturbed by the weight of his body. You press your face into his pillow, breathing him in. You think, for a fleeting second, that if you cry hard enough, he might feel it from wherever he is and come home.

But you don’t cry. You’ve already wasted too many nights crying. Instead, you just wait. 

Because that's all you know how to do now. Wait. And love him. And hate him a little, too.

THE STORY STARTS EVEN BEFORE THAT. You and Nanami Kento grew up together. Two kids from two very different worlds — he is filled with wealth and privilege, you were with struggle and scarcity. His parents lived in a grand, pristine house, while you lived in a cramped apartment that barely stayed warm in the winter.

His clothes were always crisp and clean, and yours were worn out and patched up. From the moment you realized just how different your lives were, you knew people like you didn’t belong in his world.

And the world didn’t hesitate to remind you of that. The neighborhood kids who ran in the same circles as Nanami never let you forget it. They whispered when you came around, made faces when you approached, and laughed when you walked away. 

“Why do you let her hang around you?” they’d ask him. “She doesn't fit in with us.” 

But Nanami Kento never wavered. Not once. Not ever.

“She’s my friend.” he’d say, firm and unwavering.

And that was all it took.

It didn’t matter if your shoes had holes or if your hands were rough from helping your family with chores. It didn’t matter that you didn’t have expensive toys or that you couldn’t bring lunch to school some days. 

Kento always shared this with you. He always liked making sure you were as full as him. So he would go and split his neatly packed bento in half and hand you the bigger portion without a second thought. 

You’d protest, of course, but he’d only shrug and say, “I wasn’t that hungry anyway.” 

You knew it was a lie.

Even back then, he always lied.

And he smiles all the same.

He always did that, giving without asking for anything in return, like it was the most natural thing in the world. And you valued him more than anything because of it. But what you didn’t realize was how deeply it had settled in your bones. The way you looked at him, the way you cherished him, the way you loved him.

It wasn’t like one day you just woke up and decided to love Nanami Kento. No, it was a gradual thing. Like the warmth of the sun slowly rising over the horizon. It happened on the days he’d sneak away from his house to find you playing in the dirt, unbothered by the stares of his so-called friends. 

It happened when he’d walk you home after school, insisting it was just on the way when it wasn’t. It happened when you were crying after your father came home drunk again, and Nanami held your hand quietly, letting you cry into his shoulder without a word.

It happened every time he chose you.

And because of that, because he never treated you like you were less than him, because he never made you feel like you didn’t belong — you fell in love with him. Quietly. Deeply. Hopelessly. Truthfully. 

But you never said a word about it. How could you?

You were still just you. You were unimportant, rough around the edges, struggling to keep your life from falling apart. And he was Nanami Kento, brighter than the sun itself. He was polished, brilliant, and destined for a life far better than the one you could ever give him. 

Loving him felt like holding sunlight in your hands. 

It was beautiful, but impossible to keep.

And so you stifled it, you swallowed it down. 

You smiled when he spoke of his future. Of traveling abroad, of making something of himself — and you ignored the ache in your chest. You told yourself it was enough to simply have him in your life, even if you could never have his heart. But deep down, you knew.

One day, he’d leave. 

He’d outgrow this town. 

He’d outgrow you. 

You’d be left where you always were. You would be standing in the shadow of his light, loving him from a distance. You knew that even if he leaves, even if he doesn’t stay. You would love him all the same.

WHEN THAT DAY CAME, YOU HADN’T EXPECTED IT. You were sixteen when Nanami Kento told you he was leaving. He had gotten accepted into a prestigious school overseas. One that would guarantee him a promising future. His parents were thrilled. His friends envied him. 

Everyone around him kept saying to him — You’ll do great things, Nanami. You’re destined for success.

But all you could hear was the sound of your own heart breaking. Yet you didn’t want it to be broken down out loud.  So, you decided to go and smile all about it. It was better this way, you think to yourself. He, after all, deserved better than you.

He found you later that evening, sitting on the rusted swing set in the small park where you two always met. You already knew what he was going to say. You could see it in his eyes — a mixture of excitement and guilt.

“I’m leaving.” he finally said, voice quiet. “I got accepted into a school in Denmark.”

You forced a smile, ignoring the lump in your throat. “That’s… that’s amazing, Kento. Really. I’m happy for you.”

But you weren’t. 

God, you weren’t.

“I’ll only be gone for a couple of years, you know.” he tried to reassure you. “I’ll visit during the holidays. And we can write letters—”

“Yeah, I know.” you cut him off, still smiling. “We’ll stay in touch. Like we used to.”

But deep down, you knew better. People like you didn’t get to stay in the lives of people like him. Nanami Kento was destined for bigger and better things, all these things that didn’t include you. And you hated yourself for thinking that way.

So instead of breaking down, instead of begging him to stay, you spent your remaining days together trying to memorize everything about him. The way his blond hair would fall over his forehead when he was deep in thought. 

The sound of his laugh when you said something ridiculous. The warmth of his hand whenever it brushed against yours. You burned it all into your memory, knowing it was the closest you’d ever get to having him. 

And then like the wind, that day came in a sudden push.

You didn’t cry when you said goodbye to him at the train station. 

You didn’t flinch when he pulled you into a tight hug and whispered, “I’ll see you soon.” 

You didn’t break down when you watched the train pull away, carrying him farther and farther from you. But that night, when you were alone in your bed, staring up at the cracked ceiling — you sobbed until your throat was raw. Because you knew.

You knew that he’s not coming back.

Maybe not intentionally, maybe he would write you a few letters, maybe he would visit during the holidays but eventually, the distance would settle in. He’d meet new people, make new friends, build a new life. 

And you? You’d still be here, stuck in the same town, living the same hard life you always had. You didn’t blame him. How could you? He deserved better. Yet you told yourself that you’d get over him. That the ache in your chest would eventually fade. That you’d move on.

But you never did.

The letters came at first. Handwritten, neat, and always signed, Kento. 

He’d tell you about the classes he was taking, the places he was visiting, the new friends he was making. And you’d read every word, trying to picture him in that new world of his — a world you didn’t belong to. You always write back, of course. But your letters were never as exciting. What were you supposed to say? 

Hey, I’m still working two part-time jobs to help my mom make rent. Our fridge broke again last week, but it’s fine. I’ve gotten used to eating once a day. 

No. Instead, you lied. You told him you were doing fine, that life was okay, that you were just happy to hear from him. But as the months went on, the letters became less frequent. And then, eventually, they stopped altogether. And that was it.

Nanami Kento became a part of your past.

He was just another thing you had to let go of.

Yet you think about it now, you should have let go.

You should have let it all be.

IT WAS QUITE A SURPRISE, NOT ONE WHICH YOU HAVE THOUGHT ABOUT. You didn’t know he became an actor. The Nanami Kento standing in front of you now. He was still quite as polished, poised, and impossibly handsome as he was.

And yet, he was a far cry from the boy you used to know. But it was still him, he was all the same. Same deep voice. Same gentle gaze. Same presence that made the world feel a little less heavy.

And yet, there was something else too. A distance. 

Like he didn’t quite belong here anymore.

It was like he had outgrown this town, just as you always knew he would.

“Kento, oh wow….” you managed, trying not to let your voice shake. “I… I didn’t know you were back.”

His smile faltered slightly, like he was trying to keep his composure. “Just for a few days. I had some… time off.”

You didn’t miss the way his caramel eyes swept over you. From your wrinkled convenience store uniform to the worn-out shoes on your feet. It was subtle, but you saw it. And it made your stomach twist in shame.

“How’ve you been?” he asked, carefully. Like he was afraid of the answer.

You forced a small laugh, waving a hand. “You know… same old, same old. Nothing much has changed.”

Lie. Everything had changed. You were still here, yes. You were still in the same town, still in the same life — but it felt different now. Colder. Like the weight of the world had settled heavier on your shoulders after he left. And it didn’t escape Kento’s notice.

You were supposed to be somewhere else. He knew that. Out of everyone he’d ever known, you were the smartest. You were the sharpest, the most capable, the one who always dreamed bigger than the town could ever hold. 

You used to talk about it all the time — the places you wanted to go, the life you wanted to build. You were supposed to go to college. You were supposed to do great things. And yet here you were. Stuck. In this town. Wearing a faded uniform and a name tag, working a dead-end job.

Why? Why are you still here, suffering like this?

“So, uh….” you cleared your throat, forcing a smile. “How’s Denmark? Or… wait. Are you still there?”

“No, no. I don’t live there.” he answered, his voice quieter now. “I, uh… I moved to Tokyo. For work.”

“Work?” you tilted your head.

And that’s when you saw it. The subtle shift in his stance. 

Like he was bracing himself for something.

“...I’m an actor now,” he admitted, almost sheepishly.

You blinked. “Wait — like… on TV?”

“Yeah.” He scratched the back of his neck, looking a little uncomfortable. “Film, mostly. I’ve done a few series too.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. “You’re kidding.”

He chuckled, though there was no real humor in it. “I’m not. It just… happened, I guess.”

Of course it did, you thought bitterly. Because that’s what people like him did. They left, they made something of themselves, and they became untouchable. Meanwhile, people like you stayed exactly where they were rooted in place, forgotten, ordinary.

“That’s… amazing, Kento. Really.” You smiled, even though it burned your throat. “I’m happy for you.”

But Nanami Kento couldn’t find it in himself to smile back. 

Because all he could think about was how wrong this felt.

You’re supposed to be the one out there, he thought. You were always the brilliant one. You were supposed to leave this town — not me. You were supposed to make something of yourself.

Instead, you were still here in this wretched place. In a store that smelled faintly of stale bread and cleaning supplies. Ringing up snacks for high schoolers who would eventually leave you behind just like everyone else did.

“You’re still working here?” he asked softly, his voice careful.

“Yeah. Been here for a couple of years now.” You shrugged like it was nothing. “Pays the bills.”

His stomach twisted at your words all the sudden. “What about school?” he asked. “You… you were supposed to go to college, right? Didn’t you get accepted somewhere?”

You froze. For a brief moment, the smile cracked on your face. But you stitched it back together quickly. “Ah, yeah… I did. But, you know. Life happens.”

Lie, again, huh?

The truth was that you did get accepted. To a top university in Tokyo, actually. But your mom lost her job the same week you got the acceptance letter. Rent fell behind. Bills piled up. And you did what you always did — you stayed. 

You got a job, dropped out before you even started, and spent the next few years trying to keep your family afloat. You did everything you could to help your family to survive. You abandoned everything to survive. But you didn’t tell Kento that. You couldn’t.

“Anyway, uh….” you deflected, forcing some cheer into your voice, “I’m sure you’ve got somewhere to be. Don’t let me keep you.”

But Nanami Kento didn’t move.

He couldn’t.

Because he couldn’t stop staring at you. He couldn’t stop thinking about how wrong this was. The person he loved most in this world, the one who deserved everything was still here, stuck, while he was out there living a dream he never even wanted in the first place.

And he hated it. 

God, he hated it.

“…Have dinner with me, at least.” he blurted out suddenly.

Your head snapped up. “What?”

“Dinner. Tonight.” His voice was steadier now. “I want to catch up.”

You hesitated. “Kento, you don’t have to—”

“I want to.” His gaze softened. “Please.”

And maybe it was because you were too tired to argue. Or maybe it was because, despite everything, you still loved him. So you gave in. “…Okay. Yeah. Dinner sounds nice.”

And for the first time since he left, Kento felt like he could breathe again.

That night, he picked you up from your small apartment. You tried to dress nicer, but you didn’t have much to work with. It was just a worn-out dress you hadn’t touched in years. When you opened the door and saw him standing there in a tailored coat and polished shoes, you almost told him to forget it.

But Kento only smiled and said, “You look beautiful.”

And God, you hated how much you still loved him.

Dinner was… nostalgic. You talked about old memories, laughed about stupid things you did as kids. But Kento couldn’t stop noticing how guarded you were. How carefully you danced around your life now.

Never mentioning anything too personal, never hinting at how hard things really were. And when the night was over, when he walked you back to your door, he couldn’t help himself.

“…Why did you stay?” he finally asked.

You froze, your hand on the doorknob. “…What?”

“You were supposed to leave this town, you know.” he said, voice cracking slightly. “You were supposed to go to college. Travel. Do everything you always talked about. So… why didn’t you?”

You hesitated. But then you smiled soft and hollow. “Someone had to stay and take care of things.”

And before he could ask what you meant, you gave him one last smile and said. “Goodnight, Kento.”

Then you closed the door. And Kento stood there, staring at the chipped paint on your doorframe, his heart breaking all over again. Because the person he loved most in this world was still stuck in a place she was never meant to stay.

And he didn’t know how to fix it.

NOT A WINK OF SLEEP THAT NIGHT ONCE AGAIN. After you closed the door on Kento, you leaned against it, heart pounding so hard you thought it might burst out of your chest.

You could still feel the warmth of his gaze, still hear the tenderness in his voice when he said you looked beautiful. It was like he still saw you the way he did when you were kids. Like time and distance hadn’t changed a thing.

But it had.  You weren’t the same girl you used to be. And he wasn’t the same boy who once shared his lunch with you. He was Nanami Kento now, an actor, a star, someone the world adored. And you? You were still here. Working a dead-end job, carrying the weight of your family’s survival on your back, and holding onto the ghost of a love you never confessed.

So why did it feel like he was still yours?

Why did it still hurt like hell to let him go?

On the other side of that door, Kento didn’t move for a long time. He just stood there, still staring at the door you closed between you two and felt his throat tighten with a kind of pain he hadn’t experienced in years. 

Because no matter how much you smiled that night, no matter how light you tried to make your voice sound, he saw it. The exhaustion in your eyes. The tension in your shoulders. The carefully crafted responses designed to keep him from knowing the truth. You were struggling. And it killed him.

Because you were the smartest person he knew. You were supposed to be miles away from this town, pursuing the future you always dreamed of. You were supposed to be untouchable, unstoppable, radiant. But instead… you were here. Tired. Small. Dimming under the weight of a life that never stopped asking more from you.

And Kento couldn’t stand it. The thought of going back to Tokyo, of returning to his world of flashing cameras, scripts, and fame while you were stuck here, surviving day by day, made him physically ill.

I should have taken you with me, he thought bitterly. I never should have left you here.

And that’s when he decided — he wasn’t leaving without you this time.

He didn’t care what it took. He didn’t care if you pushed him away. He didn’t care if you convinced yourself you didn’t belong in his world anymore. He would break down every wall you built around yourself if it meant pulling you out of this life.

Because the truth was he never stopped loving you.

And he’d be damned if he lost you a second time. The next day, you were working your usual shift when the doorbell chimed and you didn’t need to look up to know who it was. You felt it before you even saw him. 

“…Kento.” You swallowed hard, forcing a smile. “What are you doing here?”

He looked painfully out of place in the small convenience store. He was dressed in a dark coat, hair perfectly styled, standing taller and broader than you remembered. It was almost laughable. This man who graced movie screens and magazine covers standing in the middle of your dusty workplace like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Thought I’d stop by today.” he said simply. “I was hoping to see you.”

Your stomach twisted painfully. Don’t do this, Kento.

“I, uh… I’m working on the floor.” you stammered. “Can’t really chat right now.”

“I’ll wait.”

You blinked. “…What?”

“I’ll wait until your shift is over.” he said, completely serious. “Then we’ll grab dinner. My treat.”

“Kento—”

“Don’t say no.” His voice was soft, but firm. “Please.”

And God, you almost did. You almost told him no. You almost told him to leave you alone, that you didn’t want him to see you like this anymore, that you couldn’t handle standing next to him and being reminded of how far apart your lives had become.

But you didn’t. Because deep down, you still craved him.

You craved his voice, his touch, his presence. 

Even if it hurts you just do it all over again.

“…Okay.”

The night air was cold, but his coat was warm. Somewhere between dinner and walking you home, Kento had shrugged off his expensive wool coat and draped it around your shoulders without hesitation. You tried to protest, but he wouldn’t hear it.

“Don’t argue with me about this, please.” he murmured, his hand lingering against your arm a little too long.

It was dangerous being this close to him again. 

But you couldn’t pull away from him.

“So….” you forced lightness into your voice. “What’s it like being famous?”

He scoffed. “Overrated.”

You laughed softly. “Oh, come on. You’re on billboards now. You can’t tell me it’s not a little amazing.”

“It doesn’t mean anything.” His voice was distant. “Not if you’re not there to see it.”

Your steps faltered. “…What?”

Kento stopped walking — turning to face you, his expression unreadable. “I thought about you every day.” he confessed, his voice raw. 

“Kento—”

“The entire time I was gone. I kept wondering what you were doing, if you were okay, if you were happy.” His throat bobbed. “And every time I came back home, I hoped I’d see you, but you were always gone. I… I didn’t know if you wanted to see me again.”

You felt your heart crack open. “Kento…”

“Why didn’t you tell me you stayed?” His voice broke slightly. “Why didn’t you tell me you never went to college?”

Your breath caught in your throat. “I—”

“Do you have any idea how brilliant you are?” His voice was trembling now, thick with emotion. “You were always the smartest person in the room. You deserved to get out of here….to have everything you ever dreamed of. And instead… you stayed. You gave it all up. Why?”

Tears burned the back of your eyes. “Because I didn’t have a choice, Kento.”

“Yes, you did.” His voice cracked. “You could have told me. You could have called me. I would’ve—”

“You would’ve what, Kento?” you choked. “Fixed my life for me? Paid my bills? Dragged me to Tokyo and pretended like I belonged in your world?”

His jaw clenched. “You do belong in my world.”

“No, I don’t.” you snapped, tears finally spilling over. “Look at me. I’ve been stuck in the same place since you left. I’m still living paycheck to paycheck. I didn’t finish school. I’ve done nothing with my life. And you—” your voice cracked painfully. “You’ve become everything you were meant to be.”

Silence. Thick. Suffocating.

“I didn’t want any of it.” His voice was barely a whisper.

You froze. “…What?”

Kento swallowed hard. “I didn’t want fame. The career. The spotlight. I didn’t want any of it. The only thing I ever wanted was you—and I thought… I thought if I made something of myself, you’d still be here when I came back.” His voice cracked. “But you weren’t. And I hated myself for leaving you behind.”

Your knees almost buckled.

“And now that I’m here, with you.” his voice broke. "I can’t stand seeing you like this.”

Tears poured freely down your face. “Kento, don’t—”

“Come with me.” He took a step closer, his hands trembling as they cradled your face. “Come to Tokyo. Stay with me. I’ll pay for your school, I’ll—”

“No!” you sobbed, pulling away. “I’m not your responsibility, Kento—”

“You’re not a responsibility, nor a liability.” his voice cracked. “You’re the love of my life.”

Your heart shattered. And before you could protest again, his mouth was on yours. Desperate, burning, like he was trying to make up for every single day he spent without you. His hands cradled your face, his kiss messy and filled with heartbreak. When he finally pulled away, his forehead pressed against yours.

“Please.” he whispered, voice wrecked. “Let me take you away from here. Let me love you the way I always should have.”

For the first time in years, you let yourself sob in his arms.

Because despite everything, you loved him more than anything in this world.

Despite the distance, the pain, and the time lost, you never stopped loving him either.

And maybe… just maybe… he could still save you.

YOU COULD REMEMBER THE WAY IT RAINED WHEN YOU GOT MARRIED. Not a heavy storm — just a soft, steady drizzle, as if the sky itself was quietly weeping with joy. You stood in a small, intimate venue with that beautiful smile on your face.

Both of you of you surrounded by only a few close friends and family, wearing the simplest white dress you could afford because despite Kento’s insistence that he’d buy you the most extravagant gown in Tokyo, you refused.

“I don’t need anything fancy, you know.” you told him. “I just need you.”

And so there you stood with your fingers trembling, heart racing as Kento watched you walk down the aisle like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. His jaw was tight, his caramel eyes glassy with unshed tears, like he still couldn’t believe this was real. Like he couldn’t believe, after all those years apart, you were finally becoming his wife.

When you finally reached him, his hand grasped yours like a lifeline. 

His thumb trembled as it brushed against your skin, and when he whispered, “You’re beautiful.” his voice cracked.

And when the officiant asked if he took you as his wife, Kento didn’t hesitate one bit as he looked at you with the warmest gazes. “I do.” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I always have.”

Kento never let you go after that.

You moved into his apartment in Tokyo. It was a spacious, light-filled place with floor-to-ceiling windows and a breathtaking view of the city. It was bigger than anything you’d ever lived in, and it almost made you uncomfortable at first.

But Kento never let you feel like you didn’t belong.

“This is our home now, hm?” he told you softly one night as you stood by the window, still struggling to wrap your head around it all. “Not just mine. Ours.”

And you believed him. Because every time he came home from a shoot, tired, disheveled, and smelling like expensive cologne — the first thing he did was find you. 

\Whether you were in the kitchen, the bedroom, or curled up in the living room studying, he always sought you out, kissing you like it was the first time every time.

“My wife.” he’d murmur against your lips, as if the words themselves tasted sweet. “My beautiful wife.”

And every time, your heart would ache with disbelief. Because this was real. You were really married to him. You really woke up to him every morning. His arm draped around your waist, his face buried in your neck and he really loved you like you were the most precious thing in the world. But Kento wasn’t done giving you the life you deserved.

“Tokyo University.” he said one night, casually, like it wasn’t the single most outrageous thing you’d ever heard.

You froze mid-bite. “…What?”

“I want you to apply, like you did a long time ago.” he said simply, sitting across from you at the dinner table. “You always wanted to study chemistry. Now’s your chance.”

Your throat tightened. “Kento… I can’t. I haven’t been in school for years. I can’t just—”

“Yes, you can.” His voice was firm but gentle. “You’re the smartest person I’ve ever known. Don’t tell me you can’t do it.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding. “But the tuition—”

“I’ll pay for it.”

Your head snapped up. “Kento, no—”

“Yes.” His gaze was unwavering. “I’ll pay for every single yen. I’ll cover your tuition, your textbooks, your lab fees. Everything. You won’t have to worry about anything.” His voice softened. “Please. Let me do this for you.”

Tears burned your eyes. “I don’t want to feel like a burden to you, Kento.”

“You’re not a burden, never will be.” he said fiercely, already pushing his chair back so he could kneel in front of you. His large hands cupped your face, his thumbs wiping away your tears. “You’re my wife. Everything I have is yours. My money, my time, my life. It’s all yours. And if it means giving you the future you always dreamed of, then I’ll do it a thousand times over.”

And with that, you broke down. You sobbed into his chest, clutching him like your life depended on it, because you realized Kento meant it. Every word. Every promise. He was going to build you a life so beautiful, so far removed from the pain you endured, that you’d never have to feel unworthy again.

So the next day, you applied. And Kento wrote the check without blinking an eye. 

You could still remember months later, the day you got accepted into Tokyo University, you burst into tears. You were in the kitchen when the letter arrived, your hands trembling as you tore it open and the second you saw “Congratulations, you’ve been accepted!”

You collapsed onto the floor, sobbing.

“Kento, Kento!” you choked, clutching the letter like it was your lifeline. “I got in! Oh god…. I got in!”

Kento was on you in seconds, kneeling beside you, his face crumpling with pride. “I told you. I told you, baby!” he whispered, kissing your forehead. “I told you you could do it.”

And that night, he took you out to dinner, something extravagant, something you never would have been able to afford on your own. When the waiter congratulated you, Kento beamed like he was the one who got accepted.

“Her, it was her who got in.” he told the waiter proudly. “That’s my wife. She’s going to Tokyo University for chemistry. Smartest woman I’ve ever met.”

And when you glanced at him, with those eyes glassy, heart full, you realized he wasn’t just proud. He was in awe of you. Like he always had been. 

And for a while, it was perfect.

Life slipped into something sweet and steady. You were a university student again, just like you’d always dreamed. You spent your days attending lectures, taking meticulous notes, and spending long afternoons in the library surrounded by textbooks and the faint smell of old paper. You were learning again. Living again. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you.

And Kento? God, he was your biggest cheerleader.

Every morning before you left for class, he kissed you on the forehead and said, “Knock ‘em dead, love.” 

Every night when you came home, exhausted but fulfilled, he had dinner ready and waiting. When you showed him your test scores, perfect marks, one after another. Your husband would beam with pride like he was the one who’d aced the exam. 

When you complained about a difficult professor or a tedious lab experiment, he’d listen intently, rubbing circles into your back, and say, “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

And every night, when you fell asleep beside him, you felt something you hadn’t felt in a long time. Hope. But then —slowly, quietly— the loneliness crept in. Because Kento wasn’t home most of the time.

At first, you didn’t notice. You were busy, after all. You were drowning in lab reports, study sessions, and back-to-back classes. But then you started realizing how quiet the apartment felt when you got home. You’d unlock the door, expecting to hear the hum of the television or Kento’s soft humming in the kitchen but it was always silent. Always empty.

You told yourself it was fine. That was just how it was going to be sometimes. Your Kento was working hard, just like you were. It was only temporary. But weeks passed. Then months. And Kento started coming home later and later.

At first, it was 8 PM. Then 9. Then 10. And soon, there were nights where he didn’t come home at all, just a brief, apologetic text. “Late meeting. Don’t wait for me. Love you.”

And you tried to be understanding. You tried. After all, Kento was the one supporting you. He was paying your tuition, your textbooks, your transportation — everything. He was shouldering the entire financial weight of your dream without a single complaint. The least you could do was be patient.

But good god, it was so lonely.

You’d eat dinner alone most nights, your plate growing cold as you stared at the empty seat across from you. You’d do your assignments at the kitchen table, hoping to hear the jingle of his keys at the door  but it never came. You started sleeping alone more often than not, his side of the bed cold and untouched.

And worst of all you missed him.

You missed Kento. You missed the man who used to laugh with you until your stomach hurt. 

The man who used to kiss you breathless in the middle of the kitchen just because he could. 

The man who used to touch your belly every night and whisper. “I can’t wait to meet our baby.” 

The man who promised you. “I’ll always put you first.”

But now? You were starting to feel like you’d lost him. And then came the night that broke you.

It was well past midnight, and you were curled up on the couch, your textbooks sprawled around you. You told yourself you wouldn’t wait up for him, but you did. You always did. Hours passed, and still — no sign of him. Finally, at 1:27 AM, you heard the door unlock.

“Kento?” you called, your voice cracking.

He didn’t answer right away. When he finally stepped into the living room, his tie was loose, his shirt wrinkled, and the exhaustion in his eyes was so deep it made your chest ache.

“Hey.” he murmured, already walking past you toward the bedroom.

And something in you snapped.

“Seriously?” you blurted. “That’s all you have to say?”

Kento froze, his hand still on the doorframe. “…What?”

You stood, your heart pounding. “You’ve been gone all day again. And you just walk in like I don’t even exist?”

He turned to you, confused. “I—I’m sorry. Work ran late—”

“It always runs late, Kento!” your voice cracked, hot tears stinging your eyes. “Every night, I sit here alone. I eat alone. I sleep alone. Do you even realize how lonely it is to come home to an empty apartment every single day?”

Pain flickered across his face. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m just… I’m doing this for you, love. I’m working so you can go to school—”

“I never asked you to do that!” you shouted, and the second the words left your mouth, you regretted them.

Kento blinked, stunned. “…What?”

Your chest heaved. “I never asked you to throw your entire life away for me, Kento! I never asked you to quit your project, or work insane hours, or pay for everything. You just did it. And now it’s like I don’t even have a husband anymore. I just have this… ghost who comes home at 2 AM and leaves before I wake up!”

Silence. Thick. Suffocating.

Kento’s jaw clenched, his eyes darkening. “…You think I want this?”

You froze. “…What?”

“You think I like working sixteen-hour days?” his voice cracked, raw and strained. “You think I enjoy being away from you? Missing dinner, missing sleep, missing everything…..you think any of this is what I wanted?”

Your throat tightened. “Kento—”

“I did it for you, you know that.” he said bitterly. “I did it so you wouldn’t have to worry about money. I did it so you could chase your dream without worrying about bills or tuition. I did it because I thought it would make you happy.” His voice cracked. “But you’re not, are you?”

Tears blurred your vision. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” he laughed hollowly, running a hand down his face. “I work until I can’t see straight just to keep everything together and you still think I’m not doing enough.”

“That’s not true at all!”

“Then what do you want from me, love?” his voice finally broke, desperate and shattered. “Tell me. Please. What do you want?”

And the answer was so painfully simple, it tore you apart.

I just want you.

But you couldn’t say it. Because how could you ask that of him when he’d already given you everything? When he was breaking his back just to keep you afloat? When he’d already sacrificed his career, his sleep, his time, his life for you?

So instead, you just cried and cried.

And for the first time in your marriage, Kento didn’t comfort you.

He just turned away, defeated, and said, “I’m going to bed.”

And you realized somewhere along the way, you and Kento had become strangers for the first time.

And it hurts like hell to live with that thought.

But of course, it wouldn’t be the last time.

THINGS DID NOT GET BETTER.  If anything, they got worse. You were pregnant. And everything was hurting. It was a different kind of pain now, not just the crushing weight of your depression, but something more physical, more suffocating. 

Your body aches constantly. Your back screamed from the weight of your growing belly. Your feet were perpetually swollen. Your nights were restless, spent tossing and turning as the baby kicked relentlessly inside you, reminding you always reminding you — that there was no way out of this life you didn’t want. And it was killing you.

You thought hitting rock bottom would come with some kind of clarity. Like one day, you’d cry hard enough or sleep long enough or starve yourself numb enough that your body would finally break through the darkness. You thought there would be some moment, some visceral breaking point that would force you to finally start healing.

But it never came.

Instead, you just… sank.

Deeper and deeper, like trying to breathe underwater with lungs already half-filled. Every day you woke up was a fresh kind of misery. You couldn’t get out of bed without feeling like your bones were made of lead. 

You couldn’t stomach food without wanting to throw it all up later. You couldn’t look in the mirror without despising the reflection. You see a bloated, pale, hollowed out, a shell of the woman you used to be.

And the baby never stopped kicking.

You hated it.

God, you hated it.

You hated the way it never let you sleep. You hated the way your body no longer felt like yours. You hated the constant, suffocating reminder that soon, almost all too soon, you would be responsible for a life you never asked for. A life you were already failing before it even arrived.

But the worst part?

You hated yourself for hating it.

Because what kind of mother resented her own baby before it was even born? What kind of woman laid in bed, day after day, clutching her belly and wishing god, please just make this stop  instead of feeling love? What kind of wife watched her husband sacrifice everything for her and still felt nothing but numb, bitter emptiness?

And Kento.

God, Kento.

You couldn’t even look at him anymore without feeling like the most wretched person alive. He was still trying — still holding everything together, still waking up every morning and kissing your forehead, still whispering, “I love you. I’m here.” 

But you could see it now — the slow, painful unraveling of the man you loved. The exhaustion in his eyes, no longer just from work but from you. The hesitation in his touch, like he was afraid you’d pull away — and sometimes, you did.

The way his voice cracked when he said, “How are you feeling today, love?” and your answer was always “I’m fine.”

But you weren’t fine.

And Kento knew it.

You could see it every night when he crawled into bed beside you and held you close. The way his hand cradles your stomach, his thumb tracing soft circles over your skin. You could feel it in the way his touch, once so warm and electric, now felt like a desperate attempt to keep you here. Like if he let go for even a second, you’d slip through his fingers entirely.

And you hated that too.

Because you knew you were killing him. Slowly. Quietly. Without even trying. You could see it in his slumped shoulders, in the way his voice grew quieter, in the way he looked at you like he was losing you and didn’t know how to stop it.

And you wanted to scream — Stop loving me. Stop trying to save me. I’m already gone.

But you didn’t.

Because how could you say that to the man who dropped his entire career for you? The man who worked twenty-hour days just to pay for your tuition, your food, your life? The man who still kissed you goodbye every morning and told you, “I love you, always.”

So you did the only thing you could.

You kept shrinking.

You stopped eating. Barely touched your dinner when Kento brought it to you. The smell made you nauseous anyway, and even when it didn’t, you could barely stomach the idea of keeping yourself alive, let alone another human growing inside you.

You stopped leaving the house. Your classes had already been dropped; you told Kento it was temporary, just until you felt better. But deep down, you knew you weren’t going back. Tokyo University had suddenly become a distant dream once again, like a life that belonged to someone else entirely. And you were too far gone now to reach for it again.

You stopped responding to your friends. They texted you constantly, trying to check on you. You know they mean well. You know they just want to be there for you. And that they were excited. But you were having a hard time accepting their well wishes.

“How’s the baby? How’s school? We miss you!” 

But the thought of replying made your stomach churn. What were you supposed to say, that wouldn’t come out as a horrible thing? 

“I’m miserable. I don’t want this baby. I don’t want this life.” 

Would have that gotten you some mercy?

So you ignored them. Deleted their messages. Let your phone die and don't bother charging it. And then you stopped talking to Kento. Not entirely. But enough.

Later on, Kento halted the work on his upcoming project the day after you broke down. No warning. No hesitation. One phone call to his manager, another to his agency, and it was done. His voice was steady, almost unnervingly calm when he said: “I’m taking a break for now. My wife needs me.” 

And that was it. He dropped it all like it meant nothing. A project he had poured months of his life into, had gone in seconds. You tried to protest when you found out, but he wouldn’t hear it. His mind was made up before you could even form the words —“Don’t do this for me.”

And then he stayed.

Every single day, he stayed. Morning turned to night, and there he was. Bringing you water when you couldn’t stomach food. Sitting on the edge of the bed while you stared blankly at the ceiling. Holding you through the nights when your body trembled from crying, or worse, the nights when you didn’t cry at all, just lay there like a ghost in your own skin.

He was patient. Devoted. Unwavering.

But it didn’t fix anything.

Because the damage was already done.

You could feel it in the way his touch, once so warm and electric, now felt like a desperate attempt to tether you to the earth. In the way his voice,  soft, pleading, loving had seemed to echo against the walls of your hollowed-out chest, never quite reaching you. 

In this way you could still feel the crushing weight of your own failure suffocating you, no matter how many times he whispered “I’m here. I’m not leaving.”

And the worst part?

You wanted him to leave.

Because it hurt too much to see him like this. Abandoning his career, his life, his future, for someone who couldn’t even muster the strength to get out of bed. You resented the way he sacrificed everything for you. 

You hated how the look in his eyes shifted from affection to concern, from admiration to pity. You despised yourself for being the reason his world was crumbling alongside yours. And deep down, you knew. Kento could stay forever, and it still wouldn’t fix what was already broken.

And after that, you stopped going to school.

At first, you told Kento it was temporary,  just a leave of absence until you felt better. But weeks turned into months, and soon your professors were emailing you: “If you do not return, you will have to re-enroll next semester.”

You didn’t respond.

Because the truth was, you didn’t care anymore.

Your stomach was huge now. You could barely walk up the stairs without losing your breath. Your back ached. Your feet were swollen. You couldn’t sleep through the night because the baby was always kicking, and every morning you woke up with the same suffocating thought.

"I don’t want this life."

And the guilt ate you alive.

Because you loved Kento. You loved your baby. But you hated your life. You hated what it had become. You hated the fact that you were no longer a student at Tokyo University. You were just a pregnant woman, a pregnant housewife. You hated the fact that you no longer had a future — you just had motherhood. You just had this house, his status as a wife.

And Kento saw it. He saw how you’d spend hours just sitting in the nursery, staring at the crib with dead eyes. He saw how you stopped studying, stopped watching TV, stopped doing anything. It was like you were fading away.

And it killed him.

You could see it in the way his shoulders sagged a little more each day, as if the weight of watching you deteriorate was slowly crushing him. In the way he tried to hide the bags under his eyes from sleepless nights spent worrying about you. 

In this way his voice would crack, just barely, when he’d sit next to you and say, “Talk to me, love. Please.”

But you had nothing to say. What were you supposed to tell him? That you hated the life you were about to bring into the world? That you regretted everything — the pregnancy, the wedding, the choices that led you here? That sometimes, when you laid in bed at night, you imagined what it would be like if you just… didn’t wake up?

So you said nothing. Nothing at all.

And Kento tried to be strong for both of you. God, he tried.

He started cooking your favorite meals, hoping that if he made something delicious enough, you’d actually eat. He read parenting books late into the night, convinced that if he just learned enough, he could do this whole thing for the both of you, carry the weight, make up for the pieces of you that were falling apart. He took you on walks when he could get you out of bed, holding your hand like it was the only thing anchoring him to hope.

But it was never enough.

It was never going to be enough.

Because the truth was — you weren’t just sad. 

You were grieving everything that had come to pass.

You were grieving the life you lost, the person you used to be. You were grieving the dreams you once held so fiercely. Finishing university, traveling, building a career as a chemist on the international level. All of it now reduced to a hazy memory of a different girl. A girl you didn’t even recognize anymore. A girl you resented for being so foolish, for thinking she could have it all.

And you were grieving the love between you and Kento — or rather, the version of it that existed before the pregnancy. Before everything became tainted by your guilt, your depression, your ever-growing resentment for the life you didn’t want.

You knew that Kento saw it too.

He saw how you flinched when he touched your stomach,  not out of pain, but because it reminded you of what you were trapped in. He saw how your kisses grew colder, how you turned your head when he tried to kiss you goodnight. He saw how you stopped saying your i love yous first — how sometimes, you didn’t say it at all.

And still, he stayed by your side. But it was breaking him whole. 

You could hear it in the way his voice cracked one night when he thought you were asleep.

He sat beside you in bed, his hand resting gently on your belly, and you heard him whisper back to you. “I don’t know how to fix this.” His voice trembled. “I don’t know how to help you.”

And that was when you realized — you weren’t the only one grieving. Kento was grieving too. He was grieving the wife he used to know. The one who laughed too loud at his jokes, who kissed him in the morning just because, who fell asleep on the couch with a textbook still in her lap. 

He was grieving the life you both dreamed of late nights studying, early mornings rushing to class, careers that would take you far. He was grieving the love that used to be effortless, the kind that didn’t require whispered prayers in the middle of the night, hoping that tomorrow would hurt less than today.

And the worst part?

You were the one who did this to him.

At least that’s how you saw it all now.

You were the one who dragged him down into this suffocating darkness with you. You were the one who made him abandon his project, his career, his life. All for a woman who could barely look at herself in the mirror without breaking. 

And every day he stayed, every day he kissed your forehead and said “I’m here”, you hated yourself a little more.

You hated yourself so much that you started to wonder if maybe — just maybe — Kento would be better off without you.

And that thought never really left.

Even when he painted the nursery walls soft yellow and smiled like he wasn’t dying inside.

Even when he held your hand in the middle of the night and promised, “We’ll get through this. I swear we will.”

Even when he looked at you with a love so devastatingly pure, it only made you ache more.

Because you couldn’t shake the feeling. That Kento deserved a better wife. And your baby deserved a better mother. And you? You didn’t deserve them at all. Around your seventh month, you completely broke.

Kento found you in the bathroom at 3 AM all alone as you were sitting in the empty bathtub, knees pulled to your chest, sobbing silently. You looked miserable with your hair disheveled and your face contorted into this look, full of grief and suffering.

“Baby?” His voice cracked. “Oh my god, baby, what’s wrong?”

And you just shook your head. “I hate this so much.” you gasped through your tears. “I hate my life. I hate my body. I hate everything. I don’t want to do this anymore, Kento. I can’t…..I can’t breathe.”

And Kento completely fell apart at the sight of your tears, falling over and over again.  “Baby, no— no, no, no.” he dropped to his knees beside the tub, his hands shaking. “Don’t say that. Please don’t say that. I’m here now. I’ll fix it. I’ll make it better, so—”

“You can’t!” you screamed, your voice raw and cracked. “You can’t fix this, Kento! I’m already ruined! My life is already ruined!”

And Kento? Kento completely broke. Because he realized you weren’t talking about the pregnancy. You were talking about yourself. And you were gone. All there was left now was the shell, that shell he didn’t recognize.

“I should’ve never gotten pregnant, Kento.” you sobbed, your body shaking. “I should’ve never gotten married. I should’ve stayed in school. I should’ve never left the countryside. I should’ve……I should’ve never let this happen.”

And Kento completely lost it. “Don’t say that.” he begged, his voice cracking. 

He climbed into the bathtub with you, fully clothed, and wrapped his arms around you. “Don’t say that, baby, please— please don’t say that. You’re not ruined. I swear to god, I’ll fix it. I’ll fix everything. Just don’t give up on me. Please don’t give up on me.”

And you just sobbed.

Because deep down, you already had.

You were right to feel that way.

It was only a matter of time when the labor came early.

You had never expected it — not this soon, not like this.

It was just around thirty-five weeks then. The baby wasn’t supposed to come yet. You still had time. Weeks. You weren’t ready. Your hospital bag wasn’t packed. The nursery still smelled like fresh paint. You hadn’t even washed the baby’s clothes yet. You weren’t supposed to go into labor yet.

But the universe didn’t care.

Your water broke in the middle of the night — and you knew instantly that something was wrong. The pain hit fast and hard, unlike anything you’d ever felt. Sharp, blinding contractions ripped through your abdomen, so intense that it stole the breath from your lungs. 

You barely managed to shake Kento awake, your voice cracked and choked, “Kento — my water……it broke—”

And the moment he saw the panic in your eyes, he moved. Kento didn’t even ask questions. He sprang out of bed, grabbing his phone with one hand and you with the other, already calling for an ambulance. 

His voice was low, controlled, but you could hear the terror behind it. “Yes, my wife is thirty-five weeks pregnant. Her water just broke — she’s in pain — please send someone—”

But the contractions were coming too fast. One after the other, barely a minute in between, and by the time Kento helped you into the back of the ambulance, you knew. The baby was coming now. And the baby would have no mercy on you.

“No, no, no!” you sobbed, clutching your belly as another contraction ripped through you, your body already beginning to push despite your desperate attempts to stop it. “It’s too soon — it’s too soon—”

Kento was right there beside you, his hand in yours, his voice cracked and desperate. “You’re okay, love. You’re gonna be okay. I’m right here. I’m not leaving you.”

But you didn’t feel okay. You felt like you were dying. And by the time you reached the hospital, you were already fully dilated. The doctors barely had time to wheel you into labor and delivery before you were screaming through another contraction, your body forcing you to push despite your terror.

And Kento was there. The entire time — he was there. His hand never left yours, his voice never stopped murmuring reassurances in your ear. “You can do this, love. I know you can. Just a little longer. Just hold on for me.”

But you couldn’t.

Because something was wrong.

You could feel it in your bones. In the way your body fought itself with every push, in the way your vision kept blurring, in the way you couldn’t seem to catch your breath no matter how hard you tried. And then, in the middle of a push — you felt it.

A sudden, hot gush between your legs. But it wasn’t amniotic fluid this time. It was warm. And sticky. And you didn’t have to look down to know. You were bleeding. A lot. You could feel how it echoes down, heavy and brutish.

“Kento—” your voice cracked, raw with pain. “Something’s— something’s wrong—”

And then you heard it.

The doctor’s voice, sharp and urgent. 

“She’s hemorrhaging. We’re losing her.”

And that’s when Kento lost his fucking mind.

“What?” His voice snapped, pure, raw panic flooding his face. His grip on your hand tightened like a vice. “What do you mean you’re losing her?!”

“Her blood pressure is dropping! Massive uterine hemorrhage. Doctor,  she’s losing too much blood—”

“No — no, no, no—” Kento stumbled forward, his voice cracking as his hands shook. “Do something! Save her! Save them both!”

“We need to get the baby out now or we’re going to lose them both, Mr. Nanami!”

And suddenly it was chaos. Nurses shouting. Machines beeping. Someone calling for blood transfusions. And you — fading. You could feel it. Your body was giving out, your vision was growing dim, and the only thing you could focus on was Kento.

“Kento.” you rasped, your voice so faint, so weak. Your body felt like it was drifting. “I—I love you—”

“No!” Kento screamed. He screamed like something inside him was tearing apart. His hands clawed at the hospital bed, his body lunging toward you as the doctors tried to pull him away. “No, stay with me! Stay with me, love! Don’t you fucking do this—Don’t you dare leave me!”

But you were already slipping.

The last thing you heard was his voice, raw and broken.

“I can’t do this without you. Please! Please don’t leave me. Please—”

And then, darkness.

HE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT TO DO. Nanami Kento couldn’t do anything but collapse in the hallway. The moment they pulled him out of the delivery room. The moment the words the doctor said, all of that rang in his ears like a death sentence. He was sure that something inside him snapped.

And when the door slammed shut behind him, separating him from you, Kento’s knees buckled. He hit the floor hard. Hands splayed out against the cold tile, chest heaving, throat raw from screaming. He didn’t even realize he was still screaming until two nurses rushed toward him, trying to pull him up, trying to calm him down, but it was useless.

Because he could still hear it. The frantic shouts of the doctors. The horrifying words “Massive hemorrhage. We’re losing her.” The sound of your screams cutting off too abruptly. And worst of all — the unbearable silence that followed.

“No—” Kento howled, his voice breaking like glass. His hands clawed at his hair, his entire body wracked with violent, gut-wrenching sobs. “No, no, no— I killed her. I fucking killed her—”

“Sir, Mr. Nanami.” one of the nurses knelt beside him, reaching out. “You have to breathe, you’re hyperventilating—”

But Kento didn’t hear her.

He couldn’t hear anything.

He didn’t care to hear whatever that was.

All he could think about, all he could see was you. Your face twisted in pain. The absolute terror in your eyes when you realized something was wrong. The way you sobbed I don’t want this, Kento, I’m not ready. And he did this. He did this to you.

His body convulsed with the force of his grief, his head slamming against the tile as his sobs tore from his chest like a wounded animal. “I killed her. I killed her. I made her hate her life and now she’s gone. She’s gone—”

“Sir—” The nurse was trying to hold him down now, his entire body thrashing against the floor as he screamed. “Sir, please, you’re going to hurt yourself—”

“LET ME GO!” Kento roared, his voice so raw it barely sounded human. “She’s dying in there. Do you understand me?! She’s fucking dying in there and I……”

Another contraction of sobs wracked his chest, and his fists slammed into the floor so hard that his knuckles split. Blood smeared against the tile, but he didn’t feel it. He couldn’t feel anything.

“I made her hate her life.” his voice cracked, his chest seizing with suffocating grief. His hands curled into his hair again, yanking hard as if trying to punish himself. “I did this to her. I made her want to die. And now she’s gone and I’m still here. ”

“Stop, please.” the nurse’s voice broke, her own eyes glassy as she tried to steady him. “She’s not gone. They’re trying to save her in there, with the baby.”

“No.” Kento’s head snapped up, his face twisted in a horrifying mix of rage and agony. His eyes were bloodshot, glassy, utterly devastated. “You don’t get it. You don’t fucking get it.” His voice cracked so sharply it sounded like it physically hurt him to speak.

“She wanted to die, to be free of that misery. Don’t you see?” he choked. “She hated her life. And it’s my fault. It’s my fucking fault—”

And then his body gave out.

His chest collapsed onto the cold tile floor, his forehead pressed into it as his entire body shook. Choked, gasping sobs clawed from his throat, so violent that he could barely breathe. His lungs were burning, his vision was spinning, and he was sure, so fucking sure, that this was it. That they were going to come out and tell him you were dead.

And it was his fault. 

All of it was his fault.

Because he saw it. 

He saw it every single day. The way you sat in the nursery with dead eyes. The way you stopped smiling. The way you couldn’t even say I’m excited without your voice cracking. The way your love for him was slowly being choked out by the sheer weight of your depression.

And he didn’t stop any of it. Instead, he told you to keep going. He told you to hold on. He let you suffer in silence because he thought that’s what you needed but you didn’t. You needed help. You needed saving. And instead, he trapped you in a life you never wanted.

And now you are dying.

All because of him.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Kento sobbed, his forehead slamming against the tile again, his blood smearing across the floor. “I’m so fucking sorry. Please….please, I’ll do anything. Just let her live. Please.”

And that was the first time in his life that Kento Nanami prayed. He prayed like a man possessed. Like a man who had nothing left to lose. His bloody fists clawed at the tile, his nails cracking against it as he begged.

“Take me,please.” he sobbed, his voice mutilated from screaming. “Please….just take me instead. I don’t care. I don’t fucking care. Just…. Please don’t take her. Don’t take my wife. Don’t take my baby. I’ll do anything.”

But the silence stretched on.

And he was certain that you were already gone.

Hours continued to make mockery of him.

Agonizing, torturous hours passed — and Kento was still on the floor.

He didn’t move. Didn’t breathe right. Didn’t think. His body was stuck in that same position. Still face down, forehead pressed against the cold tile, hands trembling as he clenched them into bloody fists. His chest was heaving in short, sharp gasps, his entire body quaking as he sobbed.

He was certain you were dead. He felt it. He felt the moment your soul left the room. He felt the moment the light in his life snapped off like a switch. 

He was convinced that at any second, the doctor was going to come out, look him in the eyes, and say, “I’m sorry, Mr. Nanami. We couldn’t save her.”

And he would never forgive himself.

Because he killed you.

His fault. His fault. His fucking fault.

He was still gasping, still clawing at the ground, still praying like a desperate man when he finally heard the door open. Kento’s head snapped up. His bloodshot, swollen eyes immediately locked onto the doctor walking toward him, his scrubs covered in blood — your blood — and Kento’s entire body seized.

“Mr. Nanami—”

“Where is she?” Kento screamed. His voice cracked, broke, his entire body lunging toward the doctor like a caged animal. His hands fisted the man’s scrubs, yanking him forward. “Is my wife alive? Tell me, damn it? Is she alive?”

The doctor barely had a chance to respond before Kento screamed again. “Tell me you saved her, goddamn you!”

And the doctor’s mouth opened — and Kento swore the entire universe stopped spinning when he finally said,  “…She’s alive.”

Kento’s entire body collapsed. His legs gave out. His grip on the doctor’s scrubs slipped. And then he didn’t realize that he had hit the floor. A gasping, broken sob ripped from his throat. The kind of sob that came from a man who was seconds away from losing everything and his entire body convulsed as he wept.

“Oh my god…..” Kento choked, his hands flying to his face, clawing at his own skin like he was trying to ground himself. “Oh my god. She’s alive. She’s alive!”

“Her condition is critical, Mr. Nanami.” the doctor warned, his voice low but steady. “We had to perform an emergency c-section and a hysterectomy to stop the bleeding. She lost over forty percent of her blood volume. We had to resuscitate her twice on the table—”

“Resuscitate?” he gasped, his vision swimming. His stomach lurched. “You mean she….she died?”

“Clinically, yes. Twice.” The doctor’s face softened with pity. “But we got her back. She’s stable now — unconscious, but alive.”

And that was all Kento needed to hear.

He ran. He didn’t even think. His legs moved before his brain could catch up, his entire body sprinting down the hall, his bloody knuckles slamming into every door he passed until he finally found your room.

The second he stepped inside, he broke.

Because there you were.

Unconscious.

Your body was completely limp, hooked up to a ventilator, your skin so pale it looked blue. Tubes were coming out of everywhere. From your arm, your nose, your mouth and there were fresh surgical dressings covering your abdomen where they had cut you open to get the baby out.

Kento couldn’t breathe. A strangled, animalistic sound tore from his throat like something between a sob and a scream and then he collapsed beside your bed. His hand shot out, desperately clutching yours, his entire body wracked with gut-wrenching sobs as he shook.

“I’m so sorry…..oh my god, I’m so fucking sorry, baby.” Kento’s voice shattered, his head dropping onto your hand as his body convulsed. His chest was heaving so violently that he was on the verge of hyperventilating. “I did this. I did this to you and I….”

He couldn’t stop sobbing. His forehead pressed against your limp hand, his body rocking as he cried like a child. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry….” he choked. “I made you hate your life and I trapped you. I killed you…. oh my god, I killed you….”

And the guilt hit him like a sledgehammer. 

Because it was true. All of it.

He saw the way you suffered. The way you faded every single day. The way you stopped smiling. The way you stopped living. And instead of saving you, he kept telling you to hold on. Just a little longer, love. We’re almost there. Just a little longer.

But you weren’t okay. And Kento didn’t listen. And now you were lying there. Pale, lifeless, barely hanging on. All because of him. And the weight of it crushed him whole. He felt like Atlas carrying the world on his shoulders.

And then finally, you woke up.

“…Kento?” your voice cracked.

“Baby.” he sobbed, grabbing your face, pressing desperate kisses all over your skin. “Oh my baby…..you’re awake. You’re awake. I thought I lost you. I thought….”

“…Where’s the baby?”

And Kento completely broke. “The baby’s fine, don’t worry.” he choked. “She’s perfect. She’s beautiful. But you….you scared the shit out of me, baby. Please don’t ever do that again.”

And when they finally brought your baby girl in and you held her for the first time — you did something you didn’t expect. You cried. And then you sobbed. Because for the first time in nine months — you finally felt something coherent. Something good.

“…She’s beautiful.” you gasped. “I didn’t think I’d love her. But I do. I love her so much.”

Kento just collapsed against your hospital bed, sobbing. “I knew you would. I knew you would.”

But things are like the weather.

They were bound to change.

You should have known.

THE FIRST MONTH WAS HARD, BUT AS TIME WENT ON, IT GOT WORSE. You came home from the hospital physically intact but mentally, you were gone. You still didn’t go back to school. You didn’t touch your textbooks. You didn’t even mention chemistry. The once-brilliant student who dreamed of working in a lab was now just… a mother. And you hated it.

Every single day felt like a fog. You were exhausted but it wasn’t the baby’s fault. You knew that much. It was you that was malfunctioning. You didn’t know how to connect with her. Every time she cried, you felt nothing.

Every time she smiled, you felt nothing. Every time Kento handed her to you and said something to praise your beautiful daughter, you didn’t know how to react. You just nodded and let it go.  And Kento noticed. God, he noticed.

Kento stayed home for a month. He refused to leave your side. He didn’t take calls, he didn’t attend meetings. He just stayed home. But his contract required him to go back to work eventually. And you… you told him to go.

“Go, you have to.” you whispered, your voice dead. “You have to work, Kento. We have bills. You already missed so much.”

But Kento didn’t want to.

“Baby— no. I don’t give a shit about work. I’m not leaving you like this.”

And you forced a smile. “I’m fine, Kento.”

But you weren’t.

You weren’t.

And Kento knew it.

But eventually, he had to go. He had no choice. His manager was calling nonstop. His agency was threatening breach of contract. He had a new film that needed him and Kento was the lead role. So he left. And the guilt burned a hole in his chest.

The first day he was back on set, he couldn’t focus. His co-stars were talking to him, the director was giving him instructions but all he could think about was you. Home. Alone. With a baby you didn’t love. Kento hated himself. 

He was filming a scene when his phone buzzed in his pocket — and when he saw your name pop up, he immediately froze. 

“CUT!” the director barked. “Kento, you okay?”

“…Yeah, director.” he croaked. “I just— I need five minutes.”

And then he ran.

He ran behind the trailer, shaking, and picked up the phone. “Baby?” he gasped, panic echoing in his voice. “What’s wrong? Is the baby okay? Are you okay?”

Silence. “…I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

And Kento’s heart completely shattered.

“Baby…..” his voice cracked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…..” you gasped, voice shaking. “I mean I can’t do this. I can’t be a mom. I don’t love her, Kento. I don’t—I don’t feel anything for her. I just feel empty. And I know she deserves better. I know you deserve better. I think….I….I just….”

Your voice cracked. “I think I ruined my life.”

Kento collapsed. “No, baby. No. Don’t say that. Please don’t say that.” He was crying now, gasping into the phone. “You didn’t ruin your life. You didn’t. I promise I’ll fix this. I’ll come home right now—”

“No, you won’t.”

Kento completely broke. “Baby, please.”

“No, Kento. You have to work. We need the money. We need—”

“I don’t care about the fucking money!” Kento sobbed, clutching his hair. “I care about you! I care about our family! Please don’t give up on me, baby. Please don’t give up on her.”

But you just hung up.

Kento completely lost it.

He didn’t go back on set. He stayed behind the trailer, sobbing into his hands, shaking, thinking: “I ruined her life. I did this to her. She was supposed to be in college — not stuck at home with a baby.”

And that thought ate him alive. The next few weeks were worse. Kento was dying. Not physically but mentally, emotionally and spiritually, he was. Every single day he walked onto set, it felt like he was leaving you behind. And it was killing him.

Because all he could think about was you. Alone. Depressed. Hollowed out. Not wanting the baby. And he wasn’t there. He was never there. Every single time he put on that suit, stepped in front of the cameras, smiled for his co-stars. He was dying.

Because he knew. He knew the second he came home, you would be worse. Every day it got worse. Every fucking day.

At first, it was subtle. You were tired. Distant. Quiet. But then the days started stretching into weeks, and suddenly you weren’t just tired, you were empty. Your smiles were forced. Your voice was flat. You didn’t ask about his day anymore. You didn’t kiss him when he got home.

And Kento tried to justify it. It’s just the hormones. She’s overwhelmed. She’ll come back to me soon. She’ll come back to me.

But you didn’t.

And Kento broke down again.

Because the more days that passed, the less of you he saw.

You stopped eating dinner with him. You stopped holding the baby. You stopped getting out of bed. You wouldn’t look at him. And the worst part? You didn’t even cry. You just… stared. Blank. Numb. And Kento couldn’t handle it.

He fucking hated himself. Every single day he drove to set, his stomach would turn. He’d clench his jaw the entire time, his hands shaking as he held the steering wheel because he knew. You were at home. Alone. With a baby you didn’t love. And he wasn’t there. And the guilt was going to fucking eat him alive.

One night, Kento came home early. He couldn’t do it anymore. He was on set, trying to read his lines, but his hands were shaking. His mouth felt dry. His mind kept screaming to him: She’s alone. She’s not okay. She’s not okay. She’s not okay. Go home right now.

So he left. He didn’t even tell his manager. He just ripped off his mic and drove home. And when he walked through the door….You were just… sitting there. On the couch. Completely catatonic. Your body was slumped forward. Your eyes were glazed over, completely hollow. You weren’t blinking. You weren’t moving. You weren’t alive.

Baby?” His voice shattered.

Nothing. Kento’s heart slammed into his throat. He dropped his keys, his coat, everything, and sprinted toward you, falling to his knees in front of the couch.

“Baby, please….” his voice cracked. His hands cupped your face, his thumbs trembling as they brushed over your cheeks. “Please talk to me. Please tell me what’s wrong.”

But you didn’t blink.

You didn’t look at him.

You just… stared at the wall.

Kento’s stomach lurched.

His throat closed.

And then you finally spoke.

In a voice so dead, so hollow, that it didn’t even sound like you anymore. “…I don’t want to be a mom anymore.”

“Baby,” his voice broke. He practically collapsed against you, his forehead pressing to your lap as his hands clutched yours. “Please don’t say that. Please, god—”

“I don’t.” you said flatly. Your voice didn’t even crack. It was just… dead. “I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want her. I don’t want anything.”

Kento’s entire body convulsed.

“Baby, no.” His voice split down the middle. His hands squeezed yours so tight his knuckles went white. “Please don’t talk like that. I know it’s hard. I know you feel alone. But I love you. I love our baby. We can fix this, baby. I’ll fix it. I’ll fix everything.”

But you didn’t believe him.

Because the truth was — you didn’t want him to fix it.

You didn’t want help. You didn’t want therapy. You didn’t want him to stay home from work. You didn’t want him to coddle you or tell you it would get better.

You just wanted your old life back. You wanted school. You wanted chemistry. You wanted the future you spent years building. But instead, you were just Keiko’s mother. And you fucking hated yourself for it.

“I never wanted this.” you whispered numbly, your eyes glazed over. “I didn’t want to have a baby. I didn’t want to give up school. I didn’t want this life. And now it’s all I have.”

Kento couldn’t breathe. His chest split open. His hands shook violently as he tried to pull you closer, his head buried in your lap. “Please, baby….” his voice splintered. “Please don’t talk like that. I need you. Our baby needs you. We love you.”

But you didn’t respond.

You just kept staring.

Kento sobbed heavily.

His entire body convulsed. His shoulders shook. His throat ripped open as gut-wrenching sobs tore out of him. “I’m so sorry.” he gasped. His face buried into your lap, his tears soaking your clothes. “I’m so fucking sorry, baby.”

And you didn’t comfort him. You didn’t hold him. You didn’t wipe his tears. You didn’t say anything. Because deep down, you hated him, too. You hated that he got to have a life. You hated that he still had his career. You hated that he still had a future.

And you, who you once knew?

You were just a mom.

You were trapped.

And you resented him for it.

YOU WENT AWAY FOR A LITTLE WHILE. It was a shut-in therapy. Somewhere far. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere that felt detached from the life you had been drowning in. Kento made the arrangements. You didn’t ask him to but he just did it. One night, after finding you curled up in the corner of the nursery, crying so hard you couldn’t breathe, he made the decision himself. 

You don’t even remember how it happened — one moment you were screaming I don’t want this, I don’t want this, I don’t want this life anymore, and the next, your husband Kento was quietly helping you with packing your bags.

“Baby….” his voice cracked, his hands trembling as he folded your clothes into a suitcase. “You need help. You need real help. And I can’t—” his throat choked up. “I can’t keep watching you like this. I can’t keep coming home to you like this. I need you to get better, baby. I need you.”

You didn’t fight him.

Because deep down, you knew.

You needed help.

And when you left, Kento didn’t cry. He didn’t break down. He didn’t beg you to stay. He just kissed your forehead, buckled you into the passenger seat, and drove you there himself. The drive was silent. But when you arrived and it came time for him to leave, you felt him break.

Kento clutched your hands so hard you thought he might shatter them. His forehead pressed to yours, his voice splintering as he begged. “Please come back to me. Please get better. Please..... I don’t care how long it takes, just please don’t give up on us.”

And then he left.

And you stayed.

And the first few weeks were hell.

You fought everything. The therapy. The group sessions. The self-reflection. The constant “how are you feeling?” The exposure therapy to bond with your baby. The “you’re not alone” pep talks from strangers who did not know you.

And every single night, you thought about calling Kento. You thought about screaming into the receiver I’m done, come get me, I can’t do this anymore, please just let me go home.

But you didn’t.

Because somewhere deep, deep, deep down, you wanted to get better. And slowly you did. It wasn’t linear. Some days were good. Some days were awful. Some days you held your baby in your arms and felt nothing. Some days you sobbed so hard that you thought you’d vomit. Some days you sat in the therapy circle, refusing to speak, refusing to participate, refusing to care.

But then some days, you looked at your baby and felt something. Not love. Not joy. But something. A tinge of warmth in your chest. A pang of protectiveness. And slowly, slowly, something began to grow. And then six months later, you came home. Kento was there, waiting for you.

The second you stepped through the door, his entire body crashed into you. His arms crushed you against him, his hands cradling the back of your head, his chest heaving as he sobbed harder than you had ever seen him cry.

“Baby!” he gasped into your hair, his voice cracking. “God, I missed you….I missed you so fucking much! I thought you’d never come back to me and Keiko.”

And you sobbed too.

Because you missed him. God, you missed him.

And that night, when you walked into the nursery and you saw your baby again for the first time in months. You cried harder than you ever had in your life. Because for the first time in a long while, you wanted her. And you didn’t hate her anymore.

But… the thing was, your relationship with Kento. It was never the same. You wanted it to be. You tried so hard. Kento tried, too. He was so patient. So gentle. So loving. But something between you both felt… off.

You had a hard time touching him. Being intimate with him. You couldn’t explain why but every time Kento kissed you, really kissed you, or ran his hands down your waist, or tried to pull you into his lap, your body would freeze.

Kento noticed. But he never pushed. He never said a word. He just waited. God, he waited. But the truth was you didn’t know how to give him that part of you anymore. It wasn’t that you didn’t love him. You did. You loved him so much. You adored him. You cherished him. You owed him your life.

But every time you tried to make love to him, it felt like you were reopening the wound. It felt like you were back there again. Heavily pregnant, crying yourself to sleep, suffocating in a life you didn’t want. And you hated it. You hated that your body betrayed you. You hated that you wanted to be with Kento, but the second he kissed you, you’d tense and apologize and turn away.

One night, he finally brought it up.

It was subtle. Careful.

“Baby…..” he murmured as you both laid in bed, his fingers brushing over your bare shoulder. “Do you… not want me anymore?”

And your heart dropped. “What?”

Kento swallowed thickly, his voice small. “You never touch me anymore. You never kiss me first. You… you flinch when I touch you sometimes. And I just…. I don’t know if it’s me or if you just… don’t want me anymore.”

“No — no, Kento, I do.” you sobbed, immediately turning to clutch his face in your hands. “I love you. I love you so much. I just…..I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to….. to be close to you. I want to. I really do. I just….”

Kento shook his head. “Baby, no.” his voice splintered. “It’s not your fault. God, it’s not your fault.”

But you still hated yourself for it.

Because every time Kento looked at you with that softness, that adoration, that undying love — all you could feel was guilt. Guilt for what you put him through. Guilt for resenting him. Guilt for pushing him away. And the fullness of the intimacy, it never really came back.

You tried.You forced yourself sometimes, letting him kiss you, letting him touch you — but it felt wrong. Not because of him. But because your body wouldn’t let you have it. Your body still remembers the trauma. Kento never blamed you.

But it killed him. Because every night he’d roll over in bed, aching for you but he wouldn’t touch you. He wouldn’t dare. He knew if he tried, you’d flinch. You’d shut down. And he couldn’t handle that. So, instead all he could do was just… love you from afar.

But how has that ever been enough?

THE FIRST TIME YOU FOUND OUT ABOUT KENTO’S CHEATING, IT WAS PURELY BY ACCIDENT. It must have been years later. After the therapy, after the recovery, after you slowly started piecing your life back together. Your daughter Keiko was already walking, already talking. You had gone back to school part-time, slowly finishing your chemistry degree. 

And your intimacy with Kento? It had started to come back. Well, not fully. Not like it used to be. But you were trying your hardest with everything. You wanted to make sure that you could do it again. Your husband was waiting, and he deserved it. He deserved your love so much more than anyone. 

You started off small. You started to hold hands and then you started kissing him again. You started letting him touch you again. You even started making love again. Though it still wasn’t what it once was. You didn’t initiate it. You didn’t crave it. You just… let it happen. Because you wanted to be close to him. You wanted to fix what was broken.

Yet, Kento was still distant. Not in the obvious way, no. Kento still loved you. Fiercely. Deeply. His hands were still gentle when he brushed your hair behind your ear. His voice was still soft when he murmured his devotions to you every morning. His kisses were still warm when he kissed you goodbye.

But in his eyes, you could see his eyes so clearly. His eyes always looked starved. Like he was still reaching for something you wouldn’t give him. Like no matter how hard you tried, it would never be enough. And deep down, you knew. You would never be able to give that to him ever again.

You saw it. Every night when he rolled over, half-hard in bed, but he wouldn’t touch you. Every morning when he’d linger in the shower, his back to you, his hand clenched into a fist. Every time you let him inside you, and you could feel the heartbreak in his touch, like he was still waiting for you to love him the way you used to.

And you hated yourself for it.

But you never thought…….

You never thought he’d cheat.

Until one day,  you saw the message.

You were on his phone. It wasn’t intentional. His phone was sitting on the coffee table while he was in the shower, and it buzzed. You didn’t think much of it at first — just a glance, a mindless reflex. But then you saw the notification. A text message. From a number you didn’t recognize.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know he was married.”

And your blood ran cold instantly.

You froze as your pupils dilated.

Your hand shook as you unlocked his phone. His password was your anniversary, for fuck’s sake and when you opened the message thread… It was all there. The proof.

It was from months ago. At least half a year. Some random woman. The messages were fragmented. But clearly, Kento had deleted most of them. But there was enough. Enough to piece it together.

The first message was from her. “Hey, I had fun last night :) Let me know if you ever want to do it again.”

And then his response — curt. “I can’t continue on with this. I’m married. I love my wife. And….I have a daughter.”

Then her response. “I didn’t know that. I’m sorry. I won’t bother you again.”

And that was it. But it didn’t fucking matter. Because the implication was there. The truth was there. Kento had slept with her. He had fucked her. He had cheated on you. He decided to go on with this, swallowed by the need and by lust. 

And you just… You just sat there. Staring at the message. Feeling like the ground was ripped from beneath you. And the thing that destroyed you most was that you weren’t even surprised. Because you knew. You always knew.

You saw it in his eyes every single day. That hunger. That emptiness. That quiet, unspoken need for something you weren’t giving him. And you thought you were fixing it. You thought you were trying. But clearly… clearly it wasn’t enough. 

You didn’t confront him immediately. You didn’t scream. You didn’t cry. You didn’t throw his phone at him the second he walked out of the bathroom. You didn’t do anything. You just… sat there. And thought about it.

And the longer you thought about it, the more it made sense.

Of course he cheated.

Of course he did.

You deprived him for years. You denied him your body. You made him watch you suffer, made him sleep beside you every night knowing he couldn’t touch you, made him ache for you in ways you never fulfilled. That’s the worst part. You understood. You understood why he did it. That was the part that made you nauseous.

Because the truth was you had already broken his heart long before he ever stepped out of your marriage. You had pushed him away for so long, turned cold for so long, denied him for so long — that at some point, he just stopped waiting.

And you didn’t blame him.

You hated him. God, you hated him.

But you understood.  And you still loved him.

What a foolish game for a wallflower to grow on.

And when he finally came out of the bathroom, his hair still damp, towel slung over his shoulder, flashing you that soft, tired smile. You didn’t say a word. You just kissed him. Hard. Desperate. Like you hadn’t just been crushed to death by your heartbreak.

You grabbed his face, pulled him down, crushed your mouth to his like you were trying to rewrite history. Trying to pretend like you didn’t know what you knew. Trying to convince yourself that he was still yours. Kento froze for half a second, shocked by your sudden affection but then his hands snapped around your waist and he melted into you.

“Baby….” he gasped against your mouth, his voice needy, aching. “Fuck….. what’s gotten into you?”

You don’t say a word to him. Instead, you just clung to him. Like if you held him tight enough, like you could somehow undo the fact that he had already been touched by someone else. You let him take you that night. Hard. Rough. Desperate.

You let him fuck you like he hadn’t been able to for years, you let him do as he pleased. You let him crumble into you. His mouth on your neck, his hands fisting your hair, his voice breaking as he gasped over and over —“I love you. God, I love you.”

And you let him. Because in some fucked up way, you felt like you owed it to him, after making him suffer for so long. You spent years starving him, depriving him of life. So it was only fair that he found his comfort somewhere else.…Right?

Yet you stayed up after all that love making, alone.

No, you knew the correct answer all along.

But you were just too much of a fool to say it out loud.

AND JUST LIKE THAT, IT HAPPENS ALL OVER AGAIN. Once again, you were pregnant with your second child.  It wasn’t planned. You never wanted any more children, after all that had happened. But it happened. Yet it wasn’t that surprising. In some ways, this was the only way you could find yourself taking revenge against him. To make him just as miserable as you again.

Just weeks after you found out about his cheating, after you spent night after night letting him have you in every way he wanted, desperately trying to reclaim him, trying to erase the touch of another woman from his skin. You found yourself standing in the bathroom again, clutching a positive pregnancy test. And your stomach dropped.

Because the second those two pink lines stared back at you, you knew. The cycle was about to repeat. The suffocating weight of motherhood. The slow erosion of your identity. The same cold distance that once consumed your marriage was about to happen all over again. And the worst part was that you couldn’t even blame anyone but yourself.

Because you let him touch you again. You wanted to feel wanted, and to take revenge. You wanted to erase every part of every other woman’s palm on his. You opened your legs for him, night after night, desperate to keep him anchored to you, desperate to make him forget about the other woman and now, you were paying the price.

And when you told Kento, he broke. But not in the same way he did the first time. Not with pure, unfiltered joy. Not with a beaming smile and hopeful eyes. No, this time, Kento’s face crumpled. Yet you know that look on his face. It was just like the first time.

“Baby—” his voice cracked. “You’re….. oh my god, you’re pregnant again?”

And the heartbreak in his voice killed you. Because you knew. You knew exactly what he was thinking. He was thinking we’re not ready. He was thinking not again. He was thinking I just got her back. And now, it is happening again. Yet, you just knew in the back of his mind, he was thinking this was his punishment. This is what he gets for being the worst man on the earth.

The sleepless nights. Postpartum depression. The intimacy issues. The slow unraveling of your marriage. And you could see it,  the fear in his eyes. Yet, your husband Kento pushed it down. Because he was Kento fucking Nanami. He was a husband. A father. A provider. And regardless of how horrified he was, he refused to let you see it.

So he smiled.

Or at least, he tried to.

Yet you both knew the truth.

That smile felt like the biggest lie.

“That’s amazing, baby.” he choked, his voice strained. “Another baby. That’s… that’s incredible.”

And then he kissed you, soft and hesitant, like he was forcing himself to be happy. And you felt it. You felt the hesitation. The dread. The underlying regret. But you didn’t say anything. Because you were the one who let it happen. And just like that, the cycle began again.

Kento started working more. He said it was to provide for the baby, but you knew better. You knew it was because he was terrified. Because he was already bracing himself for what was about to come for you to spiral again, for you to shut down again, for you to stop loving him again.

You tried not to fall into the same pit you did last time. You tried to stay upbeat. You tried to keep loving Kento — loving him hard enough to make up for the fact that he once touched another woman. You tried to be a good wife. You tried to be excited about the baby.

But slowly… it just happened again.

The nausea. The fatigue. The aching loneliness when Kento came home late. The bitterness when you saw happy women on campus who still had their futures. The slow, creeping resentment every time you looked at your growing belly and thought I didn’t want this.

And worst of all, you started pulling away from Kento again. Not on purpose. But your body remembered. Your body associated pregnancy with trauma, with pain, with suffering and so it shut down. You couldn’t help it. Every time Kento touched you, your skin crawled. Every time he kissed you, you flinched. Every time he tried to make love to you, you just froze.

Kento felt it.

He felt you slipping away.

He felt your body turning cold again.

He felt the weight of your touchless nights,

He felt your silent dinners, your empty stares again.

And you knew.

You knew it was happening all over again.

But this time — it was worse.

Now you couldn’t stop thinking about her. The woman he had slept with. The one he turned to when you couldn’t love him the way he needed. And every time Kento touched you, you couldn’t help but lay there and wonder over and over again.

Did she feel warmer than you?

Did she kiss him like she wanted him?

Did she make him feel loved in a way you never could?

Kento could see it.

He could see the way you recoiled when he reached for you. He could see the distance growing between you again. He could see the guilt burning you alive. And he hated himself. Because the truth was, he never stopped loving you.

Even when he cheated. Even when he fucked another woman. It was never about love. It was never about you. It was about the ache. The desperation. The years of feeling like he was losing you and just needing something to hold onto. Now he felt like he was losing you again.

And deep down, he knew.

You were never coming back to him.

Not fully. Not the way you used to.

And Kento was slowly breaking under the weight of it.

Because no matter how much he loved you, it wasn’t enough.

It was never enough to keep you from falling out of love with him.

This is the world you gave birth to Nanami Kenshin.

LIFE GOES ON AS THEY USED TO SAY. Twenty five years, two whole decades and a half of that since you and Kento had first stepped into this chaotic life together. And somehow, despite everything, you made it.

You had raised two kids, a boy and a girl. Your Keiko and your Kenshin. They were both smart, both stubborn, both carrying that unmistakable sharpness in their eyes that mirrored your husband as much as their compassion had been garnered from your heart.

In all that agony you had come to know in your life, the pair kept you busy with almost everything they could think of. Troublemaking, homework, soccer games, dance recitals, late-night fevers. Everything about it is the messy, beautiful chaos of parenting that somehow keeps you moving forward.

And then there was Kento’s career, near thirty years as a veteran in the industry. He had gone from being the promising newcomer to a household name. Red carpets. Magazine covers. Award ceremonies where his face shone on giant screens as he walked up to accept yet another trophy. The world adored him. Respected him. Envied him.

And you were right there beside him for all of it.

The photographers always wanted you in the frame. His beautiful wife, standing gracefully at his side, draped in sleek designer dresses and glittering jewelry. They loved the way you smiled for the cameras, how your hand always rested delicately on his arm, how you played the part of the elegant, unwavering woman who had supported her husband through it all.

And for a while, you convinced yourself that this was enough. 

That this life, this carefully curated image of family perfection, was what happiness was.

You learned to smile in interviews, to talk about Kento’s dedication as a father and how proud you were of him. You learned to navigate the world of high society — dinner parties with producers, mingling with other industry wives, slipping into that role of effortless charm and poise.

But behind all the glitz and glamour, it was lonely.

With two kids to raise, and a husband to care for, there was little for you.

There was no room for you to be the woman you are.

Kento was rarely home. Always on set, always in meetings, always flying across the country for some event or another. And when he was home, he was exhausted. Conversations grew shorter. His kisses felt rushed. The intimacy you’d once fought so hard to reclaim began to fade again — not because you didn’t want him, but because he was never there.

You kept yourself busy. Raising the kids. Managing the house. 

Smiling at galas, posing for cameras, over and over again. 

Playing the part of the perfect wife in a perfect marriage.

But sometimes, when the house was dark and the kids were asleep, you’d sit alone in the living room clutching an old photograph from years ago, back when Kento’s hair was still short and his smile still reached his eyes and wonder if this was all there was left.

And maybe it wasn’t enough.

But you told yourself it had to be.

Because you had already sacrificed too much to turn back now.

So, you didn’t think of anything when it broke out in the headlines.

Kento Nanami, the beloved actor, devoted husband, father of two had allegedly been caught cheating again after nearly twenty five years of marriage.

You sat at the kitchen table, having breakfast like normal. The morning sun spilled through the windows, the smell of eggs and coffee filling the air, and the faint sound of the television humming in the background.

“Sources say the woman in question is a production assistant from his latest drama series—”

You didn’t flinch.

You didn’t look up.

You just kept stirring your coffee, like the words meant absolutely nothing to you. Kento, on the other hand, was frozen. Fork halfway to his mouth. Face pale. Chest rising and falling like he was trying not to hyperventilate. And then, slowly, ever so carefully,  he turned his head and looked at you.

“…Are you alright?” His voice cracked.

And that’s when you smiled.

You smiled, soft and easy. Like none of it mattered. Like you weren’t currently listening to the entire nation gossip about your husband’s infidelity. Like you weren’t being branded the foolish, pathetic wife who stayed after her husband cheated twice. Like you weren’t dying inside.

And with a voice far too calm, you said, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Kento’s entire face crumpled.

Because he knew.

He fucking knew.

That wasn’t real. That smile. 

That sweetness. That unbothered facade.

It was performative.

It was the same smile you gave him after your first child was born, when you were drowning in postpartum depression but still told him “I’m fine” over and over again.

It was the same smile you gave him one hundred times when he told you he was going to be late at home tonight, when he didn’t have to be. 

And now, now you are doing it all over again. Feigning nonchalance. Feigning strength. Feigning normalcy. And it destroyed him to bits beyond what he could stand.

“…Baby.” his voice cracked, his fork clattering against his plate. “You don’t have to…. I mean, we can talk about it if you want. I’ll….I’ll explain everything. I swear to god, it’s not what they’re saying—”

You laughed so heartily.

A soft, almost amused laugh.

And you took a sip of your coffee, still smiling. “I don’t need you to explain anything, Kento.”

His stomach dropped. “Wh–what?”

You met his gaze and your smile never wavered. “It’s not the first time, is it?”

And fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

Kento’s mouth fell open. “Baby….no. It’s not like that….I swear I—”

“It’s alright.” You cut him off smoothly. Calmly. Almost too calmly. “Really. I don’t want an explanation.”

Kento visibly flinched. His heart was hammering so loud he swore you could hear it. “…You don’t?”

You shook your head, taking another bite of your eggs. “No. I’m just glad you had fun.”

And Kento lost it. 

“Baby….” His voice cracked violently, his chair scraping against the floor as he immediately dropped to his knees beside you, clutching your thigh like his life depended on it. “Don’t do this. Don’t shut me out again. Please, baby. Please yell at me. Cry. Scream. Break things. Just…. don’t act like you don’t care. Please. Please, baby, I know you care—”

You laughed again.

But this time — it was hollow.

“I don’t.” you said plainly, popping a piece of toast into your mouth.

And that broke Kento completely, you were sure.

“No, no, that’s not true.” his voice shattered, his grip on your thigh desperate. “You love me. I know you do. You still love me. Please don’t….don’t act like you don’t….. I’ll fix it, baby. I swear to god, I’ll fix it, I’ll—”

“Fix it?” you echoed, your voice soft. Curious. “Like you did the first time?”

Kento fucking froze. “What?”

“You heard me.”

Because you never talked about it. Ever. After his first affair, you never once brought it up. You forgave him in the silence. Or at least, you pretended to. You shoved it down, pretended it never happened, and let Kento crawl back into your arms without consequence.

Now you were smiling at him like he was nothing more than a pitiful stranger. “Your ears work fine, don’t they?”

“…I don’t know what to say.” he choked. His hands were shaking. His throat constricted. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please….please just tell me what to do. I’ll fix it. I’ll do anything. Just please don’t—”

“Don’t what?” you asked softly, tilting your head.

The look in your eyes killed him.

“Don’t leave you?” you continued, your voice sickly sweet. “Don’t abandon you like you abandoned me when I needed you the most? Don’t make you feel like I loved someone else the way you made me feel for years?”

Tears burned his eyes. “Baby, please—”

“It’s fine, Kento.” You smiled again. “Really. I’m not mad.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” You sipped your coffee. “I’m not anything.”

And Kento completely unraveled.

Because he could see it.

The way you looked at him now. Like he was just a man. Not your husband. Not your Kento. Not the love of your life. Just a man who happened to share your bed, your house, and your children. And it killed him.

“Do you still love me?” he finally choked out, his voice so small.

And you froze.

Just for a second.

But then you smiled again. 

Just as soft, sweet, cold as before.

“Of course, I do.”

And that was the sick part, wasn’t it?

You did. You still loved him. You loved him with your entire fucking soul. You loved him so much that it hurt. You loved him and you hated him with equal intensity. It was two sides of the same coin and it was tearing you apart.

And yet even if you do love him, you know what should be.

Kento didn’t deserve that love anymore.

And even if you have to act like you don’t love him, so be it.

Let him suffer the amount of suffering you had over that time.

So you kissed his forehead, brushed his hair back, and whispered. “You should finish your breakfast. You have work later.”

And then you stood up from your seat, cigarette on your lips.

And left him sobbing on the kitchen floor, lamenting.

You had errands left to run, after all.

A wife has too much to do, you know?

[nanamineedstherapy]

Third Wheeling Your Own Marriage

F!Non-Sorceress CEO Reader X Gojo Satoru X Nanami Kento

Summary: You should be overjoyed that Gojo Satoru & Nanami Kento are your husbands. But you feel your skin crawl as you become the third wheel in your own marriage. A/N: This chapter is 24k words & Tumblr won't let me upload it all in one post so cutting it off in four smaller parts.

Previous Chapter 19 - Part 2 (Tumblr/Ao3)

Chapter 19 (alt ending 2.10) - The Anatomical Weight of Neglect in Infinite Drops - Part 3

You knew what you were doing.

Pregnancy hormones were dangerous. They made you crave pickles at three AM, made you cry over insurance commercials, and—most importantly—made you fearless.

So, when you saw the TikTok, you knew exactly what you had to do.

"Kento."

Nanami didn’t even look up from his book. His reading glasses—they were yours; he’d stolen them—were perched low on his nose, the perfect balance of nerdy and hot. His left hand rested on your thigh above the blanket, a quiet weight that made your heart full despite yourself.

"Hm?"

"I want a cum pendant."

Nanami's hand slid off your thigh.

Slowly.

Methodically.

Like his brain needed a moment to catch up.

Like he was trying to pretend he didn’t know you in public.

He turned a page of his book.

Stared at it blankly.

Then he closed it with a decisive snap.

"I'm sorry, what?"

You smiled sweetly, brushing your hand along his pillow. "You heard me."

Nanami’s expression barely shifted, but you could feel the existential dread radiating off of him.

His eye twitched behind his glasses.

"Where… did you hear about this?"

"TikTok."

His expression darkened like you’d just mentioned Satan himself. "Of course."

You leaned in, brushing your mouth against his ear. "Come on, Kento. I’m pregnant with your child. Doesn’t that mean I deserve… a little keepsake?"

"No."

You pouted. "But I thought you loved me."

"I do."

"So prove it."

"I am not turning my bodily fluids into jewelry."

"But other men do it."

"Other men are not me. And other women clearly have no self-respect."

"Wow," you murmured. "Misogynistic and selfish. My body is changing to bear your child, Kento."

Nanami's hand shot up to rub his temple. He was visibly sweating now. "I need to lie down."

"No," you said, straddling his lap with an evil smile. "You need to cum in a jar."

Nanami physically flinched. "Stop saying that."

You dragged your fingers down your stomach. "It’s a symbol of our connection."

Nanami’s eyes narrowed. "If you keep talking, I will sleep in the spare bedroom tonight."

"Okay." You slid your fingers under his collar, lips brushing the shell of his ear. "I’ll just ask Satoru then."

Nanami’s hand shot up, grabbing your wrist.

His cursed energy spiked. Not that you could see cursed energies.

"You wouldn't."

You smiled. "Wouldn't I?"

Earlier

"Hey!" you called, sauntering into the bedroom where Gojo was sprawled upside-down on the bed, shirtless.

"Mm?" He flipped and grinned when he saw you. "Hi, baby mama."

You crawled onto the bed, sitting on his chest. Gojo beamed up at you like the lovesick fool he was. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I want a cum pendant."

The smile slid off Gojo’s face like someone had yanked the floor out from under him.

His mouth opened.

Then closed.

Then opened again.

"I’m sorry," he said. "A what?"

"A cum pendant," you repeated sweetly.

Gojo’s brows furrowed. "Why do you want a cum pendant?"

"I saw it on TikTok."

He sighed. "Of course, it was my fault for paying for internet."

You smirked. "If you really love me, you’ll make me one."

"…I’m not doing that."

"But you’re the strongest," you whispered, brushing your fingers over his bare chest. "Surely the strongest sorcerer in the world isn’t scared of a little… commitment?"

Gojo's eyes sharpened. "I am very committed to you. And our child. And our marriage."

"Then why not make me a little keepsake?"

"Because," Gojo said, "if Nanami finds out, he’ll actually kill me."

"Nanami doesn’t need to know."

"Nanami knows everything," Gojo muttered darkly.

You slid your hand down his chest. "Oh? Afraid of him?"

"Absolutely."

"And what if I make him one too?"

Gojo's mouth curled into a dangerous smile. "I think you underestimate how fast Nanami would file for divorce."

You smiled, leaning down until your mouth was just above his. "So you're scared."

"I’m not scared," Gojo whispered. "I'm…"

He hesitated.

"Okay, yes, I’m scared."

You smirked. "Coward."

Gojo sat up suddenly, gently flipping you onto your back beneath him. His mouth pressed against your jaw. "Listen, sweetheart," he whispered, lips skimming the edge of your throat. "I love you. I worship you. I would die for you."

You grinned. "Then—"

"But—" Gojo’s mouth curved into a sharp smile— "if you make me ejaculate into jewelry, Nanami will kill me first, then I’ll turn into the strongest curse possible and haunt you for eternity."

You pouted and sighed. "Ok, then I'll settle with a bracelet."

Gojo visibly relaxed. "A bracelet?"

"A cum bracelet."

Gojo’s eyes widened in horror. "Oh my god."

You burst out laughing as Gojo groaned, rolling off of you and pressing his hands over his face.

"Just think about it," you teased.

Gojo peeked out from behind his hands. "Only if you promise not to tell Nanami."

"No promises."

---

2 Tuesday

Nanami was waiting when you walked into the kitchen the next morning. He was standing with his arms crossed.

Gojo was behind him, sitting on the counter, looking suspiciously pleased with himself.

Nanami’s expression was sharp. "Satoru told me."

You glared. "He’s such a snitch."

Nanami continued, deadpan. "You can’t have a cum pendant."

"Why not?"

Nanami’s eyes darkened. "Because I have standards."

You shrugged. "That’s funny. Considering you married Gojo."

Gojo gasped. "Top ten anime betrayals in history!"

Nanami ignored him. His eyes narrowed. "Let me make myself clear: no pendants. No jewelry. No…" His lip curled. "Anything with bodily fluids.”

You crossed your arms. "You guys are no fun."

Gojo slid off the counter, draping his arms around Nanami’s shoulders. "Come on, Kento. It’s kinda romantic."

"Don’t touch me."

Gojo smirked. "Do I get credit for saying no?"

"Absolutely not." Nanami shot Gojo a look. Gojo immediately backed off.

You suddenly yelled. “Hah! Gotcha! Both of you failed. He touched me yesterday—on his own—and you were talking to him just now.”

Gojo’s face paled, his grin faltering for the first time. “Wait… so you don’t want the weird jewelry?”

You laughed, cold and mocking. “Of course not. I’m not insane.”

Nanami’s expression shifted, cycling through what could only be described as the seven stages of betrayal—or maybe relief.

Soon, he spoke. “You mean all three of us lost? Because I clearly remember the rules about no talking to him applied to you too.”

You scowled for a whole minute at him like you could burn him through your eyes.

Then you stormed off. “I hate both of you.”

Gojo’s arm slung back around Nanami’s shoulder like they were old friends, which they technically were. “Good thinking, Kento.”

Nanami shrugged him off, returning to his breakfast with the precision of a man who refused to let chaos derail his routine. “This was a one-time lapse. She’s clever—too clever to not find every loophole. Consider this the first and last time we catch her off-guard. Now get lost.”

Gojo sauntered away, his laughter echoing down the hall. “See you around, Kento.”

---

Nanami was already suspicious when he saw the notification.

He had been cleaning the kitchen—because, apparently, Gojo had decided to "help" earlier by preparing an elaborate brunch that ended with more flour on the ceiling than on the plates—when his phone vibrated.

A TikTok. From you.

Nanami narrowed his eyes. You rarely sent TikToks to him unless it was to annoy him or make a point. The last one had been a video about "Signs You’re in a Codependent Relationship," and he’d had to sit through a very awkward 45-minute conversation afterward.

He unlocked his phone.

"If you have a little boy in your life, send this to him.”

“Supp my lil gay boy."

Nanami’s brows furrowed.

"...What?"

Then his phone buzzed again.

Group Chat: Dad Crimes 💀

Daddy: Did u see it?

Father Time: Yes.

Daddy: WTF does it mean? 🤔

Father Time: I don’t know.

Daddy: I feel like it’s about us. 🤷‍♂️

Father Time: What makes you think that?

Daddy: Idk… vibes. 🌌

Nanami’s jaw tightened. He hated when Gojo said things like that.

Mainly because he was usually right.

You had been glaring at them earlier.

Correction: You had been glaring at Gojo earlier.

Nanami had merely gotten a polite but frosty look.

Gojo, however, had been receiving the type of glare typically reserved for cheating husbands and men who said, "Calm down" during arguments.

Daddy: She was glaring at me. 😬

Father Time: She was glaring at both of us.

Daddy: Yeah, but more at me. 😤

Father Time: Fair. 😐

Nanami sat down, rubbing his temples.

Gojo, apparently, was spiraling in real time.

Daddy: What if she’s trying to tell us something? 🤔

Father Time: Such as?

Daddy: Idk… like maybe she thinks we’re gay. 🏳️‍🌈

Father Time: That seems unlikely.

Daddy: Do u think it’s ‘cause we were holding hands yesterday? 🤝

Father Time: That was a strategic decision.

Daddy: Yeah, but we were holding hands. 💀

Nanami’s jaw twitched.

Father Time: That was your idea.

Daddy’s typing bubble appeared. Then disappeared. Then reappeared.

Daddy: Do u think she’s mad about it? 😬

Father Time: Why would she be mad?

Daddy: Idk… vibes. 🌌

Nanami scowled.

Then—

Gojo called him.

Nanami answered on the third ring.

"She’s mad at me," Gojo said immediately.

"Probably," Nanami said.

"Why?"

Nanami rubbed his temple. "We don’t have enough information."

"Okay, but the TikTok. It’s a message," Gojo insisted.

"It’s likely a joke."

"But why that joke?" Gojo pressed.

Nanami’s brow furrowed. "What exactly are you suggesting?"

"That she thinks we’re—" Gojo hesitated. "—You know."

Nanami’s silence stretched ominously.

"Okay, hear me out," Gojo said. "We’ve been hanging out a lot."

"Because we share custody."

"And we’ve been… close."

"Out of necessity."

"And we’ve been holding hands."

"That was your idea."

"And," Gojo said pointedly, "you let me."

Nanami’s jaw flexed.

"She’s mad about something," Gojo pressed. "And then sends us that TikTok."

Nanami’s eyes narrowed. "What are you implying?"

"I’m implying that maybe…" Gojo trailed off. "…Maybe she thinks we’re gay for each other."

Nanami stared at the floor. His jaw tightened.

"That’s ridiculous," he said.

"But not impossible," Gojo pointed out.

Nanami exhaled sharply. "She would have said something."

"Would she?"

Nanami’s silence stretched again.

Gojo’s voice lowered. "You don’t think she’s mad that we’ve been spending too much time together, do you?"

Nanami considered this.

It was true that they had been in close proximity lately. Strategizing. Moving in tandem around you. And Gojo had been—

Nanami’s eye twitched.

"That’s ridiculous," he repeated.

"Yeah," Gojo said. "That’s what I thought."

A long silence.

"…You don’t think we should stop, right?"

Nanami’s eyes narrowed. "Stop what?"

"I don’t know," Gojo said. "Hanging out."

Nanami’s gaze sharpened. His jaw flexed. "No."

"Cool," Gojo said lightly. "Just checking."

Nanami inhaled slowly.

Gojo’s tone shifted. "You know what this means though, right?"

"What?"

"She’s trying to make us jealous."

"Of each other?" Nanami’s tone sharpened.

"Obviously."

Nanami exhaled sharply. "That makes no sense."

"Maybe." Gojo’s tone brightened. "But just in case…"

Nanami’s brow furrowed. "What are you suggesting?"

"We stake it out."

"Stake what out?"

"Her next move."

Nanami’s eyes narrowed. "This isn’t a chess game."

"But if it was," Gojo’s tone sharpened, "we’re already two moves behind."

Nanami sighed. "What’s your plan?"

Gojo’s voice softened dangerously. "We make her jealous back."

Nanami’s gaze sharpened.

"Elaborate," he said.

Gojo’s grin could be heard through the phone.

"We hold hands again."

Nanami exhaled sharply.

"Strategic decision," Gojo said innocently.

Nanami rubbed his temple. "I’m starting to think you enjoy this."

"Maybe," Gojo said. "But you’re still holding my hand."

Nanami sighed.

This was going to end badly.

---

It started as a joke.

That’s what Nanami told himself.

But after the fourth TikTok—and the third strategically timed glare—he was beginning to think it wasn’t.

Nanami was in the kitchen, again. Cutting vegetables with the kind of clinical precision that would have made Martha Stewart weep, when his phone vibrated.

Another TikTok. From you.

He dried his hands, unlocked his phone, and saw:

"If your man doesn’t send you a 7-page essay about how much he loves you and include MLA citations, you’re single, babe."

Nanami stared at the screen.

The audio looped.

"—you’re single, babe."

Nanami’s jaw twitched.

You walked into the kitchen, wearing one of his shirts that barely covered your thighs. His eyes tracked the hem automatically.

You raised a brow. "Something wrong?"

Nanami set down the knife carefully. "No."

"Cool." You grabbed a glass of water and left.

Nanami’s jaw flexed. He stared down at his phone.

Seven pages. MLA citations.

What was this, a thesis defense?

The phone buzzed again.

Daddy: Did u see it? 👀

Father Time: Yes.

Daddy: She’s trying to get in your head. 🧠💭

Father Time: Unlikely.

Daddy: I’m telling u, it’s a trap.

Father Time: If it is, it’s a poorly constructed one. 🏗️

Daddy: U should probably start writing tho. ✍️

Nanami’s eye twitched.

He was not going to write a seven-page love letter.

Was he?

---

Nanami was doing the dishes when his phone buzzed. (He wanted to spend time with you, so he had given the entire staff indefinite leave—totally not because he was paranoid about someone poisoning you, of course.)

He wiped his hands and read:

"If your man doesn’t fix your cravings within 15 minutes, it’s not real love."

Nanami’s gaze sharpened.

From the living room:

"Nanami."

He turned.

You were sitting cross-legged on the couch.

"I want those Indian Red Chilli Pickles."

Nanami set down the dish towel. "It’s 10 PM."

"I’m carrying your spawns," you said simply.

Nanami’s jaw flexed.

Then Gojo’s text appeared:

Daddy: Run.

---

The next day, you wake up to the sound of quiet rain tapping against the glass windows. The penthouse is dim, the curtains drawn tight. A heavy warmth presses down on your chest, and for a moment, you think you’re dreaming. Then you realize you can’t breathe.

“Kento,” you rasp, voice weak.

Nanami’s arm is wrapped around you, forearm pressed just beneath your ribs. His chest is against your back, solid and unyielding. He’s asleep, his breath steady against the nape of your neck.

You shove at his arm. Nothing.

“Kento,” you try again, louder this time.

A deep, gravelly hum. He doesn’t even open his eyes as he mutters, “Mm. Five more minutes.”

“I’m literally dying.”

His arm releases you in a swift, controlled movement. His hair is rumpled—golden strands falling over his forehead in a rare, unpolished way.

“You’re not dying,” he says.

“You sure?” You roll onto your back, hand pressing against the spot where his arm had been. “Felt like I was about to go into cardiac arrest.”

Nanami sighs. His hand slides across your belly, fingers pressing lightly over the swell of your six-month-pregnant stomach. His touch is measured, careful—but his eyes are scanning you with the sharpness of someone cataloging a threat.

“Their cursed energy is spiking again.”

You try to sit up. He stops you with a hand to your shoulder.

“Rest,” he orders.

“I have a long day ahead of me playing video games.”

He laughed—a deeper sound than usual, rich with his morning voice, the kind that warms you on a rainy morning.

---

Daddy: Nanamin. Did you know that pregnant women produce 50% more blood than usual? 😏

Father Time: Stop.

Daddy: Which means there’s more circulation. Which means—

Father Time: No.

Daddy: —she’s probably more sensitive rn 😏

Father Time: Satoru.

Daddy: I’M JUST SAYING IT’S BIOLOGY 😈

Father Time: Go back to bed.

---

Sometime later, he serves you a bowl of rice and miso-glazed salmon. You lean down and sniff it.

“Did you season this?”

Nanami shoots you a look so dry it could crack concrete. “Do you want to find out what happens if you insult my cooking?”

You smirk, take a bite, and hum thoughtfully. “Mm. Could use more salt.”

Nanami steps toward you. His hands settle on either side of you, caging you in. His face is inches from yours.

“You have two options,” he murmurs. “Eat. Or I’ll feed you myself.”

You hold his gaze. A slow smile curls at your mouth. He stares at your lips.

You’re about to say something cutting when the elevator chimes.

Haibara steps out, hands in his pockets. His smile is too sharp to be friendly. “Accountant. Nice shirt.”

Nanami stiffens. You watch the tension settle into his shoulders.

“Why are you here?”

Haibara’s gaze slides toward you. His smile stretches wider. “Friendly check-in.” He looks at you. “You’ve been hard to reach.”

“I’ve been busy doing nothing.”

Haibara shrugs. “Well, that’s disappointing.” His eyes flick to you. “Call me if you get bored.”

Nanami doesn’t relax until Haibara’s gone. His jaw is tight, his hands curled into fists.

“Why does he think we’re friends?” Nanami asks.

“Because Haibara never accepts reality.”

---

Gojo’s UV Photography Era (Much to Megumi’s Misery)

Haibara was already annoyed.

It had been three days since Gojo moved in, and in that time, Gojo had:

Disrupted the entire energy of the penthouse by existing too loudly.

Claimed the biggest bedroom and decorated it with neon LED lights, despite Megumi’s very obvious disapproval.

Referred to himself as the "House Guest Supreme" in group chats.

Tried to eat takeout on the couch once and was nearly stabbed.

And now?

Now he was standing in the middle of the living room, holding a UV flashlight, grinning like an idiot.

"Okay, hear me out," Gojo said, waving the light around. "Did you know there’s like—a whole world of things the human eye can’t see? And I, the enlightened one, have discovered a new hobby."

Haibara glanced at Megumi, who was already putting in his headphones.

"Nope." Megumi turned on his heel. "Not engaging."

"Aw, c’mon, Megumi, don’t you wanna see what’s lurking in your apartment?" Gojo flicked on the UV light and shone it across the room.

Megumi didn’t even pause. "If you shine that anywhere near me, I will throw you off the balcony."

Gojo grinned, absolutely undeterred.

"Tough crowd," he muttered. Then, he turned to Haibara. "What about you? Wanna see something cool?"

Haibara shrugged. "Depends. Are you about to expose how filthy this place is?"

"What? Nooo." Gojo beamed. "I already did that in the kitchen this morning. You guys are disgusting, by the way."

Megumi clenched his jaw, visibly resisting the urge to strangle him.

"What are you actually doing?" Haibara asked, already regretting giving Gojo attention.

"Taking photos," Gojo said proudly, pulling out your camera.

Haibara’s brows furrowed. "Since when do you do photography?"

"Since five hours ago," Gojo declared. "I asked my lovely, perfect, amazing wife how UV photography works, and she told me all about filters and light spectrums and editing."

Haibara stared. "You absorbed all of that in five hours?"

"No, like in an hour," Gojo said smugly. "I’m a genius, and she’s a good teacher."

Megumi actively sighed through his nose.

"Haters gonna hate," Gojo sang, snapping a UV picture of Megumi’s scowl, then grimaced when adult Megumi looked an awful lot like Toji.

Megumi’s eye twitched. "Delete that."

"Mmm… nah." Gojo grinned. "This one’s going in the album."

"You have an album?" Haibara asked, genuinely impressed and mildly horrified.

"Of course," Gojo said. "You think I do things halfway? My wife told me to make one, of you two."

Megumi muttered something suspiciously like "should’ve killed him when I had the chance."

Ignoring him, Gojo practically skipped back to his room.

Haibara sighed, rubbing his temples. "At least he’s entertained."

Megumi shot him a look. "He’s getting too comfortable."

"What, you don’t like hearing him giggle at his own jokes at 2 AM?"

"I hope he suffocates in his sleep."

Later that night, your phone pinged.

Satoru: (8 attachments)

— LOOK WHAT I DID

— UV photos of YOU (from when you weren’t paying attention and I was hovering outside your balcony)

— Also, I took one of your hand on my shoulder, and I made it black-and-white but kept the UV highlights blue, and it’s SO cool, baby.

You scrolled through them.

One shot showed the faint glow of your wedding ring-you didn’t wear these days-under UV light, delicate and striking. Another had the outline of your silhouette against a window, the contrast sharp and artistic.

Your heart skipped.

You: These are actually good, Satoru.

Satoru: Actually good??? EXCUSE ME.

You: They’re really good.

Satoru: That’s better.

— Anyway, what should I UV next?

— I’m thinking the bedroom.

You paused.

You: Don’t.

Satoru: …

Satoru: I did it.

Satoru: I regret it.

You burst out laughing.

From the other room, Megumi’s voice rang out, furious.

"GOJO, DELETE WHATEVER YOU JUST TOOK."

"I CAN’T. IT’S BURNED INTO MY SOUL."

You wiped a tear from your eye.

Satoru: Baby, I’m coming home.

— I can’t stay here.

— It’s cursed.

You: You are literally the strongest sorcerer alive.

Satoru: AND EVEN I CAN’T CLEAN THIS. WE NEED NANAMI.

Megumi thought Gojo had sent you the image he’d taken of him earlier; in reality, it was just Takahashi who’d come with him earlier in his bag.

Later, when you stared at the photos with a critical eye, you realized, he was trying to take some like how you preferred taking yours.

Your hormones almost made you cry over it.

---

Nanami Kento was sweating bullets.

Which was ridiculous, considering he was currently sitting in his own living room, on his own couch, in his own house.

You were sitting opposite him, legs crossed, one hand resting lightly on your pregnant stomach. A faint smirk curled your lips.

Your gaze was steady—too steady.

Duel-at-high-noon steady.

Nanami didn’t like it.

His jaw tightened. His elbow pressed against the couch armrest. "What?"

You tilted your head slightly. "You seem tense."

"I’m not tense," Nanami said flatly, despite the fact that he could feel a bead of sweat sliding down the back of his neck.

Your gaze sharpened.

He could feel it like a needle behind his ribs.

"You’ve been staring at me for the last five minutes," Nanami said.

"You noticed." Your tone was lazy.

"Of course I noticed," Nanami said, his teeth clenching slightly. "What are you doing?"

You leaned back against the armrest, brushing a hand down your stomach. "Negotiating."

Nanami’s brows drew together. "Negotiating what?"

"If you let me join a gym," you said smoothly, "and cover the membership fees—without following me there or micromanaging my workouts—I’ll let you hold my hand for one full minute."

Nanami stared at you.

"Is this a joke?"

"No," you said. "Completely serious."

His brow furrowed. "Why can’t I go with you?"

"Because you micromanage," you said. "I’d get one stretch in before you’d start lecturing me about improper form."

Nanami’s mouth tightened. "If you stretch improperly, you could injure yourself."

"See?" You gestured toward him. "Exactly this. And don’t worry it’s not because someone said something; I just read that it helps with back pain, and I already have terrible posture from work."

Nanami sighed and rubbed his forehead. "And who’s supposed to accompany you, then?"

"Haibara."

Nanami’s spine went stiff. His mouth flattened. "Absolutely not."

"Why not?" you asked.

"Because Haibara—" Nanami inhaled sharply. "Because he’s Haibara."

"Exactly," you said, smile curling. "And if I collapse or go into early labor, he’s strong enough to carry me out."

Nanami’s eye twitched.

You leaned forward slightly. "So. Do we have a deal?"

Nanami’s eyes sharpened. His gaze flicked to your hand resting lightly over your bump.

"And why," he said carefully, "would holding your hand for a minute be a suitable reward?"

You shrugged. "It’s all I’m willing to offer."

"And if I say no?"

You leaned back. "Then I guess I’ll just have to ask Satoru. He will agree to anything."

Nanami’s gaze was steady—calculating.

You could feel the tension stretching between you both like a taut wire.

He didn’t want to say yes.

He wanted to refuse.

But you could already see the cracks forming.

"I can tell you’re considering it," you said sweetly.

Nanami exhaled slowly through his nose. "You are a menace."

"And you’re stalling," you replied.

Nanami’s mouth pressed into a thin line. Then—

"Fine."

You smiled. "Excellent."

Nanami sighed, rubbing his temple. "This is going to end badly."

"Only if you interfere."

"And Haibara?"

"He promised not to post any photos."

Nanami's eye twitched again. "This is the worst decision I’ve made in years."

"And yet," you said, brushing your fingertips over his knuckles, "you’re still making it."

Nanami’s gaze softened slightly. His hand curled lightly over yours.

One minute.

Maybe two.

"Don’t push it," Nanami murmured.

You smiled. "No promises."

---

At first, you didn’t notice.

Because why would you?

You were pregnant, focused on maintaining some level of fitness without slipping into full discomfort. The gym was supposed to be a neutral zone—a place where you could breathe and feel like yourself, even as the babies you were carrying made their presence increasingly known.

And at first, the women seemed nice.

Compliments about your workout form. Polite smiles. Questions about your pregnancy.

"Oh wow, you’re still working out at seven months? That’s so impressive."

"Your skin looks amazing. Do you use snail mucin?”

"It’s so inspiring seeing you keep up with everything. How do you do it?"

You liked them. You smiled back. You answered their questions.

But then—

Things started to shift.

It was subtle at first.

The way their eyes lingered when you mentioned Gojo or Nanami in passing.

The way their smiles sharpened when you told them you weren’t here with your husband.

The way they started asking more… pointed questions.

"So… Gojo Satoru is your husband?"

"Wait—Nanami Kento? From Jujutsu High?"

"They both live with you? Wow. That’s… interesting."

You didn’t think anything of it.

At first.

Then you started noticing the way they would brush too close to you during workouts. The way they would adjust their leggings near you, making sure you could see the way they fit. The way their eyes would glint when you mentioned that Nanami was picking you up, or that Gojo had cooked breakfast that morning.

Still, you ignored it.

Because you were a confident and well-adjusted woman.

And because you didn’t feel threatened.

Until—

You were sitting on a mat, stretching, when you heard it.

Behind you.

"She’s lucky. If I had two men like that, I wouldn’t be here working out—I’d be home getting pregnant again."

You froze.

"Oh, totally."

"Nanami’s so serious, though. I bet he’s hard to crack."

"But Gojo…" A laugh. "He’s gotta be easy."

"And with her pregnant, they must be so… pent up."

"Right? You’d think they’d be looking for a distraction."

"Maybe they already are."

You turned your head slightly.

Three women, all in matching pastel sets, were sitting on mats behind you, stretching.

They weren’t even trying to be subtle.

Your hand curled over your knee. Slowly, you turned around.

"Sorry," you said, voice light. "What was that?"

The brunette smiled, lips glossed to perfection. "Oh, nothing."

"Just girl talk," the blonde added, eyes sharp.

"Interesting," you murmured.

You stood with a little struggle, brushing off your leggings. Your stomach was tight beneath your hoodie, the weight of the twins pressing comfortably against your spine.

The brunette’s gaze flicked to your bump. "You know, it’s impressive you’re keeping up. A lot of women… let themselves go."

Your gaze sharpened.

"And it’s so sweet of your husbands to support you like this," the blonde added, smiling. "You’d think they’d be more… distracted."

"Mm." You smiled faintly. "Why would they be distracted?"

The third girl shrugged. "Well, you know." Her smile curled. "Men have needs."

Your jaw flexed. "Do they?"

"Oh, totally." The brunette’s gaze sharpened. "I mean, it must be so hard for them, watching you like this, knowing you’re not exactly… available right now."

"You’d think they’d need a… break."

Your smile widened. "Would they?"

The blonde’s gaze sharpened. "Well, if they ever did…" She smiled sweetly. "They’d have options."

You exhaled slowly.

"Oh." You smiled wider. "Sweetheart."

All three girls stilled.

You took a step forward.

"I think you might be under the impression that my husbands are…" Your eyes narrowed. "Approachable."

The brunette’s gaze flicked. "Well—"

"They’re not."

The blonde’s smile tightened. "It’s not like we’d actually—"

"Of course you wouldn’t," you said softly. "Because you wouldn’t survive the attempt."

The brunette’s eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

You smiled. "Did you think they were vulnerable?"

The blonde’s mouth opened.

"Do you know how many women have tried to approach them before?" you asked conversationally. "Do you know how many times Gojo has smiled politely while Nanami’s hand was already curling into a fist?"

The brunette inhaled sharply.

"And do you know how many of them actually succeeded?" You stepped closer.

"Exactly zero."

The blonde’s mouth parted. "We didn’t mean—"

"You thought I wouldn’t notice." Your smile sharpened.

"You thought I’d be too tired. Too distracted."

The brunette’s face paled.

"Here’s the problem," you said softly. "You’re not competing with me. You’re competing with them. And you will lose."

The blonde’s mouth pressed into a thin line. "We were just joking."

You smiled. "Sure you were."

The brunette’s gaze sharpened. "You think you own them?"

Your smile widened.

"Now see, unlike you guys, I’m not five years old, and my husbands are not objects of possession," you said, voice soft but mocking.

The brunette’s mouth parted.

"And if you think," you said, voice low and steady, "that they would ever settle for less than me—a woman more capable than your entire bloodline combined—you're more delusional than I thought." Your gaze sharpened, cutting through the thin veneer of civility. "I could dismantle your entire family’s reputation before breakfast. So if you think harassing or objectifying my husbands is something you’ll get away with…"

You leaned in, a slow smile curling at the corner of your mouth.

"…then you have no idea what you’re dealing with."

The blonde took a step back. "We didn’t mean to offend you."

"Of course you didn’t, girls," you said brightly. "You won’t survive the attempt like I said, which is why I’m letting you leave."

The brunette inhaled sharply.

You smiled.

"And next time," you added, tone light, "maybe try approaching someone a little… safer."

The blonde’s mouth tightened. "We were just making conversation."

"Sure you were." You tilted your head. "Now leave, if you don’t want your families evicted suddenly."

The blonde hesitated. The brunette’s jaw flexed.

Slowly, they turned and left the gym.

You watched them go, smile fixed in place.

Then Haibara’s voice came from behind you.

"…Wish you’d been that resilient in school."

Your nostrils flared. "Shut up."

Haibara smirked. "Does Nanami know you can talk like that?"

"Oh, he knows."

"Think they’ll try again?"

Your eyes glinted. "Not if they’re smart."

“Good thing, no one will bother you here now.” Haibara muttered as you nodded and left to weight-lift.

Not that you noticed, but Haibara Yu—tactically well-coordinated ex-spy and Eldritch horror Haibara Yu—had been dropping weights on his foot ever since you joined the gym with him because he was too busy watching you, finally getting the chance to spend time alone with you, uninterrupted. And honestly? He wasn’t even mad about the bruises.

Meanwhile, Megumi, who had inherited his father’s Hybrid Functional Training regimen—a brutal combination of heavy lifting and combat conditioning—would have micro-managed your every move worse than Nanami ever could. That’s exactly why you chose Haibara as your gym partner. And when the opportunity landed in his lap, he wasn’t about to let it slip away.

---

Nanami had known something was wrong the second you stepped through the door.

You were back from the gym—and you looked like you had just come from the gym. Your leggings were clinging to you, your hair was tied back in a loose bun, and you were still lightly flushed from the workout.

Nanami had already prepared a glass of water and a protein bar. He wasn’t going to comment on the fact that Haibara was the one who had taken you—that was a separate problem to address later.

But something was… off.

You were standing in the hallway, frowning at your reflection in the full-length mirror.

Nanami’s gaze sharpened.

"Did something happen?"

Your hand slid protectively over your stomach. "No."

Nanami’s eyes narrowed. "You’re sure?"

You exhaled sharply, still staring at your reflection. "Yeah."

Nanami’s brow furrowed. He set down the glass of water and crossed the room, standing beside you. His gaze followed yours in the mirror.

"You look fine," Nanami said carefully.

Your mouth tightened. "I look huge."

Nanami’s brows drew together. His gaze flicked toward you. "You’re pregnant."

"I know that."

"Then why are you—"

"I just feel big," you snapped, turning toward him.

Nanami went still. His eyes sharpened.

You sighed, brushing a hand down your shirt. "I was next to Haibara in the gym mirror today."

Nanami’s jaw immediately clenched. "And?"

"And I looked huge next to him." You gestured toward your stomach. "Like a planet orbiting a star."

Nanami’s gaze sharpened.

"And everyone was looking at me," you continued, your tone sharp. "I could feel it. Like they were thinking, How did she let herself get like this? I’m—" Your voice caught. "I’m massive."

Nanami inhaled slowly through his nose. His hand flexed at his side.

"Did Haibara say anything?"

"No," you said quickly, like it was the most absurd thing in the world, right up there with pigs flying. "He’d never."

"Then who?"

You hesitated. "No one said anything."

Nanami’s jaw flexed.

"But they were looking." You exhaled shakily. "I don’t know why it just hit me today, but I feel…" You trailed off.

Nanami’s gaze softened. "You feel what?"

"Like I’ve lost control of my body." Your hand pressed lightly over your stomach. "I didn’t think it would be like this. I thought I’d just feel… low on energy. Or at least in control. But instead, I just feel…" Your throat tightened. "Heavy."

Nanami exhaled slowly. His gaze tracked over your face, the slight tremor in your hand.

"You don’t look heavy."

"I feel heavy," you muttered. "And round. And—"

"You’re pregnant," Nanami interrupted gently. His hand brushed over your shoulder. "You’re carrying two human lives. Your body is doing exactly what it’s supposed to."

"That’s not the point," you muttered. "The point is—"

Nanami’s hands slid down to your hips, steady and grounding.

"Listen to me," Nanami said quietly. His gaze sharpened. "You are not ‘huge.’ You are pregnant. You are growing lives. That is not weakness."

Your throat tightened. "You have to say that. You’re my husband."

Nanami’s gaze darkened. His hands tightened lightly over your hips. "I don’t have to say anything."

Your mouth trembled. "But—"

"You feel heavy?" Nanami’s voice dropped. His gaze cut through you. "Then let me hold you."

Your eyes widened. "What?"

Nanami lifted you.

"Nanami!"

You inhaled sharply as his hands curled beneath your thighs and lower back, lifting you effortlessly off the floor. Your legs wrapped automatically around his waist, and your hands curled over his shoulders.

"Too heavy?" Nanami’s tone was low, dangerous.

You stared down at him, wide-eyed. "I—"

Nanami’s mouth curled slightly. "I don’t think so."

"That’s not the—"

"You said you feel heavy," Nanami said simply. "Do you feel heavy now?"

You swallowed. "That’s not fair."

Nanami’s hand slid over the back of your thigh. His gaze sharpened. "You’re not heavy," he said softly. "You’re mine."

Your chest squeezed painfully. "You’re just saying that."

Nanami’s brow lifted. "Am I?"

You hesitated.

Nanami’s hands tightened over you. "I could hold you all day," he said quietly. "Does that sound like someone who thinks you’re too much?"

Your throat tightened. "…No."

Nanami’s gaze softened. His hand slid over your lower back, steady and grounding.

"I don’t care how much you weigh," Nanami murmured. "I don’t care how you look next to anyone else. I care that you’re safe. I care that you’re alive and healthy. I care that you’re here with me."

Your lips parted. "Kento…"

Nanami’s gaze softened. His hand brushed over your jaw. "Do you understand?"

You inhaled shakily. "I… think so."

Just then, Takahashi scurried into the room, a chewed-up cord dangling from his mouth like a war trophy. His beady little eyes landed on you—

And then on Nanami.

Who was still holding you.

Takahashi’s baby raccoon brain immediately decided this was a crime.

With the righteous fury of a woodland creature who had never known oppression until this very moment, he launched himself at Nanami’s leg.

Nanami, unfazed, merely lifted you higher.

Takahashi, realizing his attack had failed, hissed—his little back arching, fur puffing up like a tiny, enraged marshmallow.

You barely stifled a laugh. "He thinks you’re hurting me."

"Hm." Nanami’s mouth curved slightly. "Should I put you down before he declares war?"

Takahashi bared his teeth, his whole body trembling with rage. He lunged for Nanami’s slippers, gnawing like he was trying to free you from captivity.

"Takahashi, no—" You wheezed, covering your mouth.

Nanami exhaled slowly, adjusting his grip on you as Takahashi flailed against his leg, clearly trying to defeat the great oppressor.

"You’re not helping, darling," Nanami muttered, voice dry.

"Put me down before he actually draws blood," you said, barely containing your laughter.

Nanami sighed but obliged, lowering you carefully to the floor. The second your feet touched the ground, Takahashi immediately stopped fighting—staring up at Nanami like, That’s right. Know your place, human.

Then, with one last threatening huff, he scurried off like a victorious warrior.

Nanami, unbothered, gave you a pointed look. "Better?"

You hesitated. "…Yeah."

"Good." Nanami’s mouth curved slightly. "Would you like to continue arguing, or should I order dinner?"

Takahashi, apparently satisfied with his bravado, sprinted away after spotting a bird by the window.

Your mouth twitched. "That depends."

"On what?"

"What kind of dinner."

Nanami smiled. "Anything you want."

You arched a brow. "Even if it’s expensive?"

"Especially if it’s expensive."

"Even if it’s complicated?"

"I’ll learn how to make it."

You narrowed your eyes. "Even if—"

Before you could finish, his hand slid over the back of your neck, tilting your chin upward. His mouth curved.

"Yes," Nanami murmured. "Even then."

Your breath hitched. "You’re too good at this."

Nanami’s mouth curled. "That’s why you married me."

You rolled your eyes, but your hand curled over his wrist.

Nanami’s gaze softened. "Do you feel better?"

You hesitated.

"…Maybe."

Nanami’s brow lifted. "Only ‘maybe’?"

"Depends."

"On?"

"If you’re going to rub my feet later."

Nanami’s gaze sharpened. "I would have done that regardless."

Your mouth twitched. "Dangerous."

Nanami smiled faintly.

You scowled. "Don’t get cocky."

"Too late." Nanami pressed his mouth lightly to your temple.

You sighed. "You’re impossible."

"And you’re beautiful," Nanami said simply.

Your cheeks flushed. "Stop that."

Nanami’s hand slid lightly over your lower back. His mouth brushed over your temple.

"Never," he murmured.

From across the room, Takahashi huffed disapprovingly.

---

t for watermelons. Not for anything."

Your chest squeezed painfully.

You leaned into him, pressing your face against his shoulder. Gojo’s arm curled protectively around you.

"Thanks," you murmured.

Gojo’s mouth brushed over your temple. "Anytime, sweetheart."

You sighed. "I can’t believe you actually got so many watermelons."

Gojo’s grin widened. "Marry rich."

You scowled into his shoulder. "I already did."

Gojo laughed. "Smart girl."

You sighed, resting against him as he pressed another kiss to your forehead.

And beneath his hand, your belly shifted softly.

Gojo smiled.

"See?" he murmured. "They approve."

Your lips curved. "We’ll see if you still think that at 3 AM when they wake up screaming."

Gojo’s grin widened. "Can’t wait."

You rolled your eyes. "You say that now."

Gojo’s hand slid over your belly again, his gaze bright.

"Watermelons and chaos," Gojo murmured. "It’s going to be a hell of a life."

You smiled. "Yeah."

Gojo grinned, relieved. "Yeah, yeah. I love you too pretty hoodie lady."

You turned to look up at him. 

Then, because Gojo never knew when to quit—

"You wanna go thank the watermelons personally? Maybe we can write them a letter?"

"Satoru."

"What if we start a fan club? ‘Mothers For Seedless watermelons.’ I'll be vice president—"

"Satoru."

"—and we’ll meet every Tuesday and talk about how life-changing they are—"

"Satoru, if you don’t stop talking—"

"I’ll carry you to the car?"

You sniffed and wiped your eyes again. "Fine."

Moments later, Gojo was holding both you and the watermelons.

He kissed your forehead before carrying you out the door like you were royalty.

---

Chili Rating Poll: Rate each husband's progress in couples therapy (1-5 🌶️): 1 🌶️ = Still setting fires in Sims 4 3 🌶️ = Gojo bought apology watermelons 5 🌶️ = Nanami admitted he’s a simp Bonus: How many times did you scream ‘JUST COMMUNICATE’? So how many parallels did you catch???🤔🌚 Or what was your fav line??? 👀

Next part of this chapter - (Tumblr/Ao3)

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[yourname-exee]

part two of this: part one

Nanami found himself lost in thought, replaying the moment that had unfolded between you both, lingering in his mind like an unfinished melody. His attention drifted when he saw you walk into the office, greeting him just as you always did, your presence so familiar, so comforting. You handed him his coffee, the routine gesture that had become a quiet ritual between you.

but today, it was different.

The handoff was accompanied by a soft blush that dusted across your cheeks, and a shy, almost secretive smile. It was a subtle shift, but it sent a rush of warmth through Nanami, his own cheeks betraying him with a soft pink flush. His heart swelled god was he done for. Especially now, with the ring that once adorned your finger now absent? The question gnawed at him, tempting him to ask, to find out if this was his moment. But he held back, the words locked inside, unwilling to press you on something so delicate.

not just yet

Instead, he kept his demeanor steady, nodding with a gentle smile, acknowledging the coffee with his usual quiet gratitude. But you saw it, the way his gaze softened, the way his eyes lingered on you a moment longer than they should have. The unspoken tension hung between you, silent but heavy, and Nanami knew he was in deep. 

It was subtle, but undeniable. 

That night you shared with him awakened something in you, a longing for tenderness you hadn’t felt in years. It was a feeling that made your heart twist in two opposing directions, guilt for you were still bound by vows to another, and a raw, overwhelming love, sparked by the way he looked at you, the way his touch lingered, so gentle, so achingly tender. You couldn’t shake him from your mind, and that’s why today almost without thinking you left your wedding band behind.

Just as your husband had done for the past year. It felt like your turn to let the silence speak, but of course, he didn’t notice. He only remarked that something seemed different, then dismissed it with a careless shrug, as if it were nothing at all.

By the end of the workday, Nanami had summoned the courage to finally address the missing wedding band, his thoughts carefully rehearsed. True to his nature, he invited you to dinner once more, but tonight, there was an unspoken tension in the air. Tonight wasn’t like the last, it carried the weight of something more significant, something that could either solidify a love destined to last or shatter the fragile hope he’d begun to nurture. A love he now felt an undeniable urge to give.

if only you’d let him.

(divider made by: @adornedwithlight )

[neoangelxx]

Nanami shoves his ice cold hands up your shirt causing you to screech.

“Get your cold hands off me!” You try to squirm away but he’s wrapping you in his arms.

He shushes you. Shoving his cold nose into the back of your neck. You continue to try and wiggle out his grip.

“Don’t shush me!” You protest.

He’s warmed up but the chill is now prominent in your body. Plus the principle!

“Just let me hold my hot wife.”

You scoff, amused, turning around in his arms. “You got jokes.”

“I’d never joke about my hot wife,” a slight smirk on his lips, “but I do find that compliment to be rudimentary.”

He kisses your lips gently before placing a trail from your cheek down to your neck. He stops above your shoulder.

“I much prefer beautiful, gorgeous,” his hands slip from under your shirt down the curve of your ass, “sexy.”

He squeezes, pulling you closer something hard pressing against your stomach.

“I’m still a little chilly darling, can you warm me up some more?”

When you first started dating Nanami you never expected him to be so suave. It was like a switch flipped and you were blushing and stuttering while he gazed at you with that same smirk he’s giving you now.

“I can try my best.” You flirt back.

“That’s all I ever ask.”

[c4toru]

jerking an exhausted nanami off from behind

“s’too much sweetheart— h-hah..” you’ve been overstimulating him for the past 30 minutes, your right hand covered in your husbands slick. he’s laying in between your legs, head resting in the crook of your neck as his hands latch firmly onto your plump thighs.

he had come home from work clearly frustrated with whatever went on inside his workplace, you just wanted to give him somethin’ to cool off after a hard day at work! “nuh uh.. s’not enough, you’re being soo good for me kennnn.” your free hand threads fingers through his silky hair as your sultry voice throws him for a loop. he truly underestimated how filthy his little wife was.

he’s planting delicate kisses on your neck while he’s huffing out shallow breaths, you continue to jerk his lengthy cock, milking whatever he has left inside of him. “f-fuck nngh m’gonna cum again- mmf,” he’s moaning out — pleading even, you’ve put a hand tightly over his mouth, silencing his loud moans. “yeah? you’re being so loudd.. heh- c’mon give it to me kentoo” you giggle, fisting his cock while his leaky tip oozes out beads of pre-cum.

his hands are gripping your thighs while he bucks his hips into your hand, chasing his orgasm. the room is filled with obscene noises and muffled moans, you move your hand from his mouth upwards to his eyes, blinding him. “mmngh- please p-please yeah.. d-don’t stop shiiit!” he groans, tilting his head back as the coil deep in his stomach unwravels.

your hand is jerking him up n down, squeezing him tightly. his cum is pouring out, dripping all over your hand as you focus your strokes onto his sensitive tip. “o. . . oh fuuuuck fuck fuck hnghh ah!” he whines while his cum flows out his slit in large spurts. he’s made a mess all throughout your hand, cum dripping down to his balls.

“feel better big boy..?” you giggle, removing both your hands from his body causing him to wince out of overstimulation. “hah.. almost killed me y’know” he glares at your smitten facial expressions, you roll your eyes before landing a big kiss onto his parched lips. “whateverrr, you liked it!” you reply, only thing on your mind is the next time you’ll be able to help your husband ‘cool off after work’

who knows.. maybe this will become a little routine you guys have

a/n : can you tell i like sub nanami.. ermm ; got lazy at the end loll likes & reblogs appreciated <3 kisses from c4toru !!