#i take “drink lots of fluids” very seriously

[i-am-simply-here]

I'm sitting her wondering why I've had to pee so much today but I've had two cups of coffee, a bottle of water, a Capri sun, and a can of coke and its only 4pm

[mononijikayu]

therapy — nanami kento and gojo satoru.

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

GENRE: alternate universe - actor/s au!;

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

WORD COUNT: 19k words

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

masterlist

if you want to, tip!

the good life ― masterlist.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s unfair—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His jaw tightens. “That’s not fair.”

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

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

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

His face pales. “I—”

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

Silence.

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

Your breath catches, something breaking inside you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence stretches between you, heavy with uncertainty.

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

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

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

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

Kento remains silent, but his body tenses beside you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You swallow, your throat tightens.

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

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

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

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

But does it change anything?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You linger behind for a moment, watching her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink, turning to her. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm, aren’t I?”

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t answer.

Because what is there to say?

She isn’t wrong.

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

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

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

“Yes, I am sure.”

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

“Look, I just—-”

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

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

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

The weight isn’t there. 

You can breathe. 

And maybe that’s what scares you the most.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your chest tightens.

Because you know what it tells you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"…Didn’t think I’d find you here."

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

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

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

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

Your fingers twitched against the glass. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have too many of those.”

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

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

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

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

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

"Didn’t seem like the type."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine, then you pick one.”

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

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

“To that. And more.” he agreed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frowned. "Where?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he didn’t say anything.

He just smiled at you.

And when he turned to leave, you followed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.” you rasped. “Not even close.”

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

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

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

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

You turned to him, frowning. "What?"

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

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

And maybe you didn’t know what came next. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence once again follows through both of you.

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

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

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

Satoru grinned. “And?”

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

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

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

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

You snorted. “Bullshit.”

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

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

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

Your brows furrowed. “How?”

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

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

“That was you?” you whispered.

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

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

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

A lump formed in your throat. 

You swallowed hard, unable to look away from him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You are an angel.”

You shook your head. “I am not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your breath hitched. “Satoru….”

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

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

“Chemistry.” You whispered under your breath. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you weren’t going anywhere. Not now. 

Not when he kissed you like this.

Not when you finally felt wanted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You knew he broke you then. 

And fuck, you let him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was all it took.

Gojo Satoru snapped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because he believes in love.

He believes in being in love.

And he believes in loving you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For a moment, neither of you moved. 

Neither of you spoke.

Then, reality crept in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.” He breathed.

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

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

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

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

You exhaled slowly. “Shouldn’t I?”

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

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

“Stay.”

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

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

You swallowed hard. You should’ve hesitated. 

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

“Okay.” you breathed in response to him.

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

There was no more speaking after that.

Instead the world woke up and met the sun.

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

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

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

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

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

His jaw clenched. “Who was it?”

Silence once more blisters him.

And then Kento completely lost his mind.

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

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

“It doesn’t matter, Kento.”

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

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

Kento froze. “Don’t you—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Baby, please—”

“Don’t call me that.”

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

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

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

He looked so small. So fragile.

But you didn’t stop at that.

Your anguish had been waiting for this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did love you—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does.”

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

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

Kento Nanami finally knew how it felt.

And it was killing him over and over.

And perhaps that was your greatest revenge.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. 

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

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

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

Silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kento—”

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

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

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

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

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

“…Then why are you saying this?”

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

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

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

“…And what about you?”

Kento’s throat collapsed. “What?”

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

Silence bellows the world all of the sudden.

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

You froze. “.....You don’t have to.”

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

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

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

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

Silence. Unforgiving. Endless.

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

“…I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

“…Where are you going?” Kento choked.

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

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

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

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

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

“…I’m sorry.” he croaked.

You didn’t answer.

“…I’m so fucking sorry.”

And still, you didn’t answer.

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

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

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

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

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

Not ever again. You deserve better than that. 

You deserve someone like Satoru.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The interviewer watches you carefully. "And now?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Does he know?"

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

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

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

"Not even after everything?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything, mam.”

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

epilogue

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nanami [Name] and Nanami Kento Are Separating!

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

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

This wasn’t just another article. 

It was going to cause a stir. 

A public unraveling of a seemingly perfect marriage.

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

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

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

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

Now, the storm was coming.

And no one can stop it now.

[movingmusically]

Hi! Can you do an Austin Butler x gf!reader imagine where Austin is diagnosed with appendicitis and has to get surgery? So like let’s say it’s the day of Austin’s surgery and he’s really nervous but the reader is really supportive and is reassuring him while they’re driving to the hospital. When they get there, Austin and the reader kiss each other and everything before the doctors take Austin to pre-op. Once the surgery is done and Austin is now in his hospital room, the reader sits by his side and waits until he wakes up. Once he wakes up the reader tries to get him water and take care of him, but he’s high on drugs 😭 so he’s like all lovey dovey toward the reader and like very clingy so he just asks the reader to lay with him. A little after that, the nurse comes in to check on Austin and get him ready to go home (you usually go home the same day for appendicitis surgery) so the reader has to get up from the bed, but Austin gets all protective and doesn’t want the reader to leave his side. He doesn’t even let the nurse touch him, saying that the only girl that’s allowed to touch him is his girlfriend. The reader calms him down and lets him now that it’s okay and that the nurse has to get him ready so that they can go home. After finally agreeing to getting dressed, Austin is ready to go home. Once the nurse and reader help him in the car, they finally arrive home. Austin is pretty sore so the ready is obviously very attentive and loving with him, making sure he has everything he needs. Austin insists on laying down, so the reader helps him to the bed and they take a nap together.

You can add anything else if you’d like 😭

I apologize if there’s any typos!

Author’s Note:

Thank you for the request! I loved writing this sweet and fluffy story about Austin being nervous before surgery and clingy afterward. I hope it’s what you were looking for. Enjoy!

Word Count: 2,837

Masterlist

Operation: Love

Austin wasn’t one to complain about pain—he prided himself on being tough, brushing off bruises and scratches as if they were nothing. But when he doubled over in the kitchen, clutching his stomach and hissing through clenched teeth, you knew something was seriously wrong.

“Austin,” you said urgently, rushing to his side. “What’s wrong? Is it your stomach?”

He nodded, sweat beading on his forehead. “Yeah. Feels like… like a knife twisting or something.”

You didn’t hesitate, helping him to his feet and guiding him toward the car. “We’re going to the hospital. Now.”

He protested, of course. “It’s probably just something I ate—”

“Austin,” you cut him off, giving him a look that brooked no argument. “This isn’t up for discussion. Let’s go.”

By the time you got him to the emergency room, he was pale and trembling, the pain worsening with every passing minute. Watching him writhe on the hospital bed while waiting for the doctor was agonising. You stayed by his side, holding his hand, whispering soothing words, though it felt like little comfort.

When the doctor finally came in, her expression was serious but reassuring.

“It’s appendicitis,” she explained. “We’ll need to remove it before it ruptures. The good news is it’s a routine procedure, and you should be able to go home the same day.”

Austin swallowed hard, his free hand balling into a fist. “Surgery?”

“It’s the best option,” the doctor said gently. “You’ll feel a lot better once it’s out.”

You squeezed his hand, giving him a soft smile. “It’s going to be okay, babe. This is a quick surgery, and I’ll be right here the whole time.”

The surgery was scheduled for the next morning, giving you both the night to prepare. You spent the evening coaxing him into drinking clear fluids and distracting him with his favourite movies. But despite your best efforts, you could see the nervousness in his eyes, the way his leg jiggled whenever he thought you weren’t looking.

That night, as you lay in bed together, he finally let his guard down.

“I don’t know why I’m so freaked out,” he admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know it’s a simple surgery, but…”

“But it’s still surgery,” you finished for him, running your fingers through his hair. “It’s okay to be scared, Austin. It doesn’t make you weak.”

He turned his head to look at you, his blue eyes searching yours. “What if something goes wrong?”

“Nothing’s going to go wrong,” you said firmly, cupping his face. “You’re in good hands, and I’ll be there as soon as you wake up. You’re stuck with me, Butler.”

That earned you a faint smile, and he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Thanks, baby.”

The next morning, you could feel the tension radiating off him as you got ready to leave for the hospital. He tried to put on a brave face, but the way he kept fidgeting gave him away.

In the car, his nerves were palpable. His leg bounced restlessly, and he kept rubbing his hands together.

“You okay?” you asked, glancing over at him.

“Yeah,” he muttered, but his tone was far from convincing.

You reached over and placed a hand on his knee, stilling his restless movements. “Austin, look at me.”

He turned to you, his expression vulnerable in a way you rarely saw.

“You’re going to be fine,” you said softly but firmly. “This is just a bump in the road, and by tonight, you’ll be back home, bossing me around like usual.”

That got a small chuckle out of him. “I don’t boss you around.”

“Sure you don’t,” you teased, giving his knee a squeeze. “But seriously, you’ve got this. And I’ll be right there waiting for you when you wake up. Always.”

The parking lot of the hospital loomed ahead all too soon, and as you pulled into a space, you noticed the way his hands gripped the edge of the seat, his knuckles white.

Once inside, you held his hand tightly as you checked him in and waited for the nurse to call his name. He kept glancing at you, like he needed reassurance you weren’t going anywhere.

Finally, a nurse approached, clipboard in hand. “Austin Butler?”

“That’s me,” he said, his voice a little shaky.

The nurse smiled warmly. “We’re ready to get you prepped for surgery.”

Austin’s grip on your hand tightened, and he turned to you, his eyes wide with nervousness.

“Hey,” you said softly, standing on your tiptoes to cup his face in your hands. “You’re going to be okay. I promise.”

“I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice barely audible.

“I know,” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “But you’re stronger than you think. And when you wake up, I’ll be right here, making fun of your hospital gown.”

That earned you a shaky laugh, and he kissed you again, lingering for a moment like he didn’t want to let go.

“I love you,” he said, his voice steady this time.

“I love you too,” you replied, your heart swelling with emotion.

The nurse gave you a moment before gently leading him away. You watched until he disappeared around the corner, your chest tight with worry but your resolve stronger than ever.

“All yours,” you whispered to yourself, taking a deep breath and heading to the waiting room.

The waiting room was cold, sterile, and far too quiet. The hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional ding of the receptionist’s phone were the only sounds keeping you company. You’d been given updates—one nurse had reassured you that everything was proceeding smoothly—but the minutes dragged on like hours.

You tried distracting yourself, scrolling aimlessly through your phone, but nothing could hold your attention. Every time the door opened, your head snapped up, hoping it was a nurse with news.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a doctor in scrubs walked into the room, a small clipboard in hand.

“Miss?” he asked, glancing around.

You stood so fast your chair nearly toppled over. “Yes! Is he okay?”

The doctor gave a kind smile, his voice steady and calm. “The surgery went perfectly. We were able to remove the appendix before it ruptured, and he’s in recovery now. He’ll be groggy for a little while as the anaesthesia wears off, but you can see him shortly.”

Relief hit you like a tidal wave, and you let out a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

The doctor nodded and gestured for you to follow a nurse down the hall. Each step felt lighter than the last, the knot of worry in your chest slowly loosening.

When you entered the recovery room, Austin was propped up in the hospital bed, his head lolled slightly to one side. His eyes were closed, and his usually perfect hair was a mess, sticking up at odd angles. The sight made your heart ache with affection.

You moved quietly to his side, pulling a chair closer to the bed and sitting down. Gently, you reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his. His skin was warm, his grip surprisingly strong despite how out of it he looked.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” you said softly, brushing your thumb over his knuckles.

Austin’s eyes fluttered open, and he blinked a few times before focusing on you. A lazy, lopsided smile spread across his face.

“Baby?” His voice was rough, thick with grogginess.

“I’m here,” you murmured, leaning closer so he could see you clearly.

“Hi,” he said, his tone slow and dreamy, like he was discovering you for the first time. “You’re so pretty.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, warmth spreading through your chest. “Thanks, handsome. How are you feeling?”

“Great,” he said with a sigh, his head lolling back against the pillow. “Everything’s so… floaty. And you’re here. Perfect.”

His free hand reached up, clumsily brushing against your cheek. “I love you. Did I say that already? I love you so much. You’re, like… my favourite person. Ever.”

“You might’ve mentioned it,” you said with a soft laugh, though your cheeks were starting to burn.

“Good,” he said firmly—or at least as firmly as someone still high on anaesthesia could manage. “’Cause it’s true. Don’t want you to forget.”

His words were slurred but so heartfelt that they made your chest tighten. You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “I won’t forget. Promise.”

Austin made a contented sound, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before they snapped open again. “Wait. Where’re you going?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you assured him, squeezing his hand.

“Good. Can’t go. Need you. You’re the best nurse ever. Prettiest, too,” he added, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

You laughed again, resting your chin on the edge of the bed. “You’re a handful, you know that?”

“Yeah, but you love me,” he said, grinning like a smug toddler. “And I love you. So much. Like… infinity.”

Before you could respond, he tugged at your arm, trying to pull you closer. “C’mere. Lay with me.”

“Austin, you’re in a hospital bed,” you said gently, though you didn’t move away.

“Don’t care. Wanna cuddle,” he insisted, his voice taking on a petulant edge.

You glanced around the room, checking to see if a nurse was nearby, then carefully climbed onto the narrow bed, resting beside him. His arm immediately wrapped around you, pulling you close as he let out a satisfied sigh.

“See? Perfect,” he murmured, nuzzling into your shoulder. “Best nap ever.”

You couldn’t help but smile, your fingers gently brushing through his messy hair. “You’re impossible.”

“Perfectly possible,” he countered sleepily, a proud grin tugging at his lips.

You stayed like that for a while, the steady sound of his breathing lulling you into a state of calm. He mumbled occasionally, little declarations of love and nonsensical compliments—“Your hair smells like sunshine” and “I’d fight a dragon for you”—that made you laugh quietly to yourself.

The peaceful moment was interrupted by the soft knock of the nurse entering the room. You shifted to sit up, but Austin’s arm tightened around you like a vice.

“No,” he mumbled stubbornly, burying his face into your shoulder. “Stay.”

You laughed softly and stroked his hair. “Austin, I’m not going anywhere. The nurse just needs to check on you.”

The nurse, a woman in her late forties with a kind smile, approached the bedside with her clipboard. “Good afternoon, Mr Butler. How are you feeling?”

Austin peeked out from his spot against your shoulder, his gaze narrowing suspiciously. “She’s the only one allowed to touch me,” he declared, his voice slurred but resolute as he pointed at you.

The nurse blinked in surprise before her lips quirked into an amused smile. “I promise, I’ll be gentle. Just need to check your vitals so we can get you ready to go home.”

Austin shook his head, his grip on you tightening. “Nope. Not happening.”

“Austin,” you said gently, pulling back just enough to look at him. “It’s okay. She’s just doing her job, and the sooner she’s done, the sooner we can leave.”

“But…” His lips turned down into a pout, his big blue eyes pleading with you. “I don’t like her touching me.”

The nurse chuckled softly, clearly used to patients in post-op haze. “I promise, it’ll be quick, and I’ll only touch what I absolutely have to.”

You cupped Austin’s face, tilting it so he’d focus on you. “Babe, you trust me, right?”

“Always,” he said immediately, his expression softening.

“Then trust me when I say it’s okay. She’s helping us get out of here, and I’ll be right here the whole time,” you reassured him.

Austin huffed dramatically, but he reluctantly loosened his hold on you. “Fine. But only ’cause you said so.”

The nurse gave you an approving smile as she got to work, checking his vitals and giving him instructions for post-surgery care. Austin endured it all with the patience of a grumpy cat, his eyes darting to you every few seconds as if to ensure you hadn’t left.

When it came time for him to get dressed, his stubborn streak reappeared.

“Can’t I just stay like this?” he asked, gesturing to his hospital gown.

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You want to walk out of here in a backless gown?”

He grumbled but finally allowed you and the nurse to help him into his sweatpants and hoodie. Once he was dressed, the nurse left to grab the discharge paperwork.

“I don’t like her,” Austin muttered as you helped him sit back down on the bed.

You laughed, shaking your head. “She’s just doing her job. Be nice.”

“She’s not you,” he said simply, as if that explained everything.

After signing the paperwork, you helped Austin into the car, his movements slow and stiff. He winced as he lowered himself into the passenger seat, and you quickly adjusted the seatbelt for him.

“Comfortable?” you asked, brushing his hair back from his forehead.

“Would be better if I was in bed,” he grumbled, though he leaned into your touch.

“We’re almost there,” you said with a smile, closing the door and walking around to the driver’s side.

By the time you pulled into the driveway, Austin was clearly feeling the effects of the surgery and the long day. His movements were sluggish, and he winced as he tried to unbuckle his seatbelt.

“Wait, let me help,” you said quickly, reaching over to unclip the buckle and gently ease it off him.

“Thanks,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You came around to his side of the car and helped him out, one arm looped securely around his waist. He leaned heavily on you, his usual graceful movements replaced by slow, careful steps.

“How’s the pain?” you asked as you guided him toward the door.

“Not great,” he admitted with a grimace. “It’s like someone punched me in the stomach and then sat on me for good measure.”

You gave him a sympathetic smile, unlocking the door and helping him inside. “Alright, let’s get you to bed so you can rest. I’ll grab anything you need.”

“No arguments here,” he muttered, sinking onto the couch as soon as you were inside.

You crouched in front of him, your hands resting gently on his knees. “You okay to walk to the bedroom, or do you want to sit here for a bit?”

“I can make it,” he said, though he sounded doubtful.

“Come on,” you said softly, standing and offering him your hand. “I’ve got you.”

He leaned on you as you walked to the bedroom, his arm slung over your shoulders for support. You moved slowly, matching his pace, until he finally eased himself onto the bed with a groan of relief.

“Better?” you asked, adjusting the pillows behind him and pulling the blankets up over his legs.

“Getting there,” he mumbled, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before opening again. He gave you a sleepy smile. “You’re the best. Can I keep you forever?”

You leaned down, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I think you’ve already got me, Butler.”

“Good,” he murmured, his eyelids drooping. “Don’t ever leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promised, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Now, do you need anything? Water, pain meds, a snack?”

“Just you,” he said softly, reaching for your hand, his grip surprisingly strong despite his grogginess. “Lay with me?”

You hesitated for a moment, glancing at the time. “I should get you some water and check your meds first—”

“Please?” he whispered, his voice so soft and vulnerable that it tugged at your heart.

“Alright,” you relented, kicking off your shoes and slipping under the covers beside him. “But if you need anything, you have to let me know, okay?”

“Deal,” he murmured, wrapping an arm around your waist as you settled in next to him.

You carefully rested your head on his shoulder, mindful of his soreness, and let your hand rest on his chest. He exhaled deeply, his entire body relaxing against yours.

“This is nice,” he mumbled, his voice thick with exhaustion. “Feels like everything’s better when you’re here.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you pressed a gentle kiss to his jaw. “I’m not going anywhere, babe. Just close your eyes and rest.”

Within minutes, his breathing slowed, and you felt the tension melt from his body. You stayed awake a little longer, watching him sleep, your fingers brushing lightly through his hair.

Finally, you let yourself relax, the steady rhythm of his breathing lulling you into a peaceful sleep beside him. Whatever the day had thrown at you both, this was all that mattered—being here for each other, no matter what.

[drinkinboilingcoffee]

Could you maybe tell us a bit more about remnant hunger? It seems like such a cool idea

Rubs hands together evilly like a small housefly Eheheeheheh (It’s easiest to explain if I just do an in-depth explanation of my au version of remnant, so this is some of that as well. The most important thing to understand is that remnant is NOT the same thing as soul.) REALLY long post ahead.

So the way remnant works in my au is that it’s a naturally occurring metal in the bodies of most living things (like iron or something) with a simple purpose: to bind the soul to its body. It’s found all throughout the system, but is concentrated most in the brain and nervous system (and the smarter an animal is, the more remnant there is binding its consciousness). So you want to make a ghost, huh? To do that you need a soul, a lot of remnant (different surfaces like metal hold onto remnant better) and a part of their body that the process will transfer the soul from. In areas with enough remnant, ghosts can happen naturally if there’s enough remnant in whatever part of the victim binds to a surface (Evan with the brain matter when his skull was crushed, Charlie with spinal fluid when she was stabbed in the neck). Remnant also has a relatively low melting temp (its liquid in the human body) and unbinds if it heats up to its gas state.

Now, living things constantly gain and lose enough remnant in their systems through the natural process of eating, drinking and breathing that running seriously low is hard to do without already being on the brink of succumbing to hunger and exhaustion. But spirits? Whatever they possess (be it an animatronic or corpse) exists in a much more passive state. They lose remnant, but it’s harder to gain it without digestion or circulation. It takes a while, but day by day their soul slowly unwinds from their body. The symptoms tend to present themselves as an intense hunger accompanied by a lack of self control that progresses into the eventual point of completely uncontrollable aggression. You can stave it off for a while, but in the end the only way to end the hunger is to sate it with concentrated remnant- aka human flesh.

You don’t necessarily have to kill someone for it (Mike probably breaks into morgues and such for the most part), but the longer something is dead, the less remnant it has. The guard bodies they recover from failed night shifts aren’t usually very intact almost entirely as a result of the animatronics feeding, Elizabeth gets a cut of the remnant from what she catches from Circus Baby’s capture mechanism, etc. William specifically was pretty fucked up by this, since he went like 30 years without more than the occasional rat to eat, so that whole time was in a sort of hunger-driven half conscious stupor (whoever unearthed him definitely got fucking eaten) which is why he’s so unhinged in fnaf 3 and much more ‘human’ in fnaf 6.

Mike was definitely pretty hard hit by the whole thing because: A) he has to pose as a human being and get along as normally as possible in society. B) he already has a lot of internalized fear of hurting people, and having a deep desire to bite Jeremy’s face off whenever he’s hungry doesn’t help. C) guy works at Fazbear Entertainment, he’s around blood and bodies all the time and he has to physically force himself not to just go batshit crazy. Good news, he can at least access already dead bodies somewhat consistently so he’s not running around murdering people, bad news is pretty good odds he snapped and ate a coworker once and got an extra layer of trauma on top of the ever growing pile.

[yandere-fics]

Ainsley's NSFW Alphabet

♡ A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) ♡

Of course she has to take proper care of you after an experiment, she can't have her cute test subject breaking on her, then she wouldn't be able to run another experiment on you for a few days. Not that she doesn't also enjoy taking care of you and worry about your health but she goes into a bit of analytical mode when she's running these tests on you.

♡ B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) ♡

On both of you it has to be the eyes, how marvelous is it that with your eyes you were able to achieve love at first sight, eyes truly are a very joyous thing for you, they even allow her to watch you for hours on end as your eyes roll back into your head from the multiple sessions of testing you're helping her perform. It's wonderful how much of a gift this part of her body is to her, truly a gift of fate perhaps.

♡ C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) ♡

Well she's obviously going to bottle yours and taste it, it would be lovely to mix some in with the mystery drink she drinks every morning, she won't let you know she's doing that though or you might try to pour it out and she can't really have you wasting such a valuable substance, and by that she means both the mystery drink and your bodily fluids. If it's in the omegaverse she's going to use your fluids to make something that will induce a rut in her. Also either way her cum is a mystery liquid and you don't want to know what it is anyways.

♡ D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) ♡

She doesn't even need to mix your blood with anything for it to affect her like an aphrodisiac, you would think she was the vampire with the way it affects her, she rarely touches it because if she indulged herself in it too much no experiments would ever get done accurately, it doesn't work with anyone else's blood either so it's starting to feel like her weird soulmate thing is true.

♡ E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) ♡

She has a lot of experience but not with experimenting sexually, she's been waiting to be able to run these sorts of tests until she finds someone she loves, they mean a lot to her and how could she run them on just some random person, these are meant to sort of bond the both of you and combine your interests.

♡ F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) ♡

She has a very comfortable padded table where she likes to have you lay in the center, it makes it easy for her to poke and prod at you while she records your reactions. She does like to bend you over the examine table and slowly fuck you after her experiments are over sometimes though. She tries not to because it might mess with her record keeping but she really can't help herself when you look so lovely like that.

♡ G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) ♡

She's entirely serious, she'd have to be in order to make sure the results of her testing are properly recorded. She also expects you to take it seriously, don't muffle your sound dear or she'll have to get one of those gags that open your mouth, please she needs accurate data on how this makes you squeal, you wouldn't want her to have to test it again because you fucked up the results, would you?

♡ H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) ♡

She's very fluffy down there, you aren't going to see it very often since she uses magic much more often. The carpet does not match the drapes, it's a dark black color whereas her hair is ashy blonde almost like the color has been stripped from it. She doesn't dye her hair, years of prolonged magic exposal has stripped it of it's color and vitality, she uses severe conditioner or it will frizz the fuck out and probably all fall off.

♡ I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) ♡

She just makes it feel so clinical at time, sure she can absolutely take a pause for the experimentation and just do it regularly with you but this for her does feel romantic, she's including you in her magic so it's bonding and very romantic in her eyes, fine she'll do it your way if you want but you had better promise you won't squirm away as much next time she wants to run another test.

♡ J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) ♡

You can't really tell if she does get off, I mean she sure looks happy after your experiments but did she get off? When she does fuck you too, something definitely cums out but honestly it's just as likely that she has let something weird out inside you just to act like she came for the sake of the experiment. She definitely doesn't jack off.

♡ K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) ♡

Magic and blood play. She saves things related to your blood for very very special occasions though. She does want to use a knife and mark you with it but that would be unrelated to the tests she's running unless she's testing a blood thickener or something. She often will make you consume her blood to see if it will affect you the way yours affects her. She might use yours if she's feeling spicy since it has an aphrodisiac effect on her.

♡ L = Location (favorite places to do the do) ♡

Only in her tower, it's the best place to remove any variables that could mess with her results since her tower is set up the same every time she wants to experiment with you.

♡ M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) ♡

She wants to learn more about you and how your body responds to certain things she does with it, what gets you to whimper, what makes you whine, and what makes you moan at the top of your lungs for more. If she wants to know everything about you then it means she has to do lots of testing.

♡ N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) ♡

She won't share you, she'd murder everyone else in the kingdom and resurrect someone forcing them to look and act like her and be her puppet if you really want a threesome, there's surely someone who would be compatible to be resurrected as her duplicate in the whole kingdom, she just have to keep killing until she finds them.

♡ O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) ♡

I don't think you want to give with what she's packing just saying, the mystery liquid doesn't taste very good and while having it inside you makes you feel a state of tranquility and expedited healing, drinking it makes you feel a little bit light headed and a bit like a cat on catnip so probably best to avoid doing that too often. She won't make you do that anyways since doing it often might fuck with her results. She often does experiments involving your cum, making it thicker, making it wetter, making you produce more juices and part of that is tasting it so she often eats you out.

♡ P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) ♡

It's slow and steady because that enables her to take proper notes as everything happens, sure she could speed up but that would introduce too many variables to measure, was it the speed, was it the heat produced by the speed, was it that you're extra exhausted now, she can't tell and it fucks up the experiment.

♡ Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) ♡

Quickies don't allow for enough note taking and if she pauses in the middle of the experiment to have a quickie with you then it might skew the results since now so is introducing herself as an unexpected variable. Thus quickies are a no go.

♡ R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) ♡

This whole thing is an experiment to her, of course she likes to experiment and take risks, so long as they happen in her safe magic tower where she can make sure they are conducted in a safe manner with very few variables. During it outside would introduce too many variables to get accurate clear results.

♡ S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) ♡

She can do this all day but she'll keep the experiments limited to a few hours because she doesn't want there to be too many variables like exhaustion included. She would like you to be fully recovered before the next test which will take longer if she leave the experiment running too long.

♡ T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) ♡

They aren't exactly toys, she took the models that Elisha designed and decided they weren't nearly creative enough since they didn't include magic and by infusing a bit of her will into the things she made she could make them specifically designed to crave being inside her darling. They also can tease themselves to do better each time she turns them on.

♡ U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) ♡

She's not trying to tease you she was merely testing to see what your reaction would be if she pulled on your nipple will it was covered in the 'goo' compared to how it reacts when she pulls on it not covered in the 'goo'. Sorry you took it as teasing baby girl, she didn't mean for you to get that impression.

♡ V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) ♡

Honestly I think I would punch her because she mostly just sits in the corner writing her stupid little notes and making small comments to herself about how this potions seems to make you too woozy to respond and she needs to lower the wooziness in her next batch. If you try to talk to her she'll probably either ask you to tell her more how you're feeling or shush you because she has to document this.

♡ W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) ♡

If she uses magic all day then her hair looks greyer and then when you wake up is's gone back to a more normal ashy blonde. This is because the magic uses her vitality and then she uses blood to return some of the vitality to herself and it returns to a better shade. If she stopped using magic in general and keeps taking the blood it would likely return to black but she never gives it enough recovery time to return to black.

♡ X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) ♡

She certainly fucks you with something, you're pretty sure it's a real dick because something comes out of it though if you look at it you might die because that is not the color of a real dick which just makes you highly concerned about what is coming out of it and going into you. It's best not to think about the mystery substance. Anyways she's pretty thick, very bulky, not as much as Nora but she's got a decent amount of meat on her, almost dad bod especially with her flat chest. It really fits the dress shirts she's always wearing well.

♡ Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) ♡

Her overall natural yearning is pretty low, she only really wants it when she gets really really inspired to test something out otherside she's fine just hanging out with you, if she doesn't have any questions she wants to test then she's unlikely to initiate although it's extremely rare for her to not have something she wants to test with you.

♡ Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) ♡

You don't know if you've ever actually seen her sleep, sure she lays in bed with you idly chattering about which experiment she wants but whenever you wake up she's always up before you and you always see her drinking that weird coffee drink so you're pretty sure that just keeps her semi permanently awake.

[enbyzombies2]

(was spinning thoughts about what entails "forced vulnerability" and this was born. hope you like 🫶)

Ford gets sick and he's pretty much bedridden. From a fever, to chills, to fatigue, and more. Whole nine yards.

He had taken some precautions when symptons had begun to appear (you even helped with some!), but as soon as he got rid of one, more broke through, until they all came together at full force and knocked him down for good.

So now he's mandated to stay wrapped up in bed until he can at least sit up without toppling over. He's not very happy about it, but it's not like he can do much either.

It's for his own good, you tell him when he tries to look annoyed (he can barely open one eye, it's not very effective ngl) and argue and move. You just tuck the sheets around him better, give him a few pats and leave him with a special friend of his (he's cuddling with it the second you leave. He was just feeling particularly... "prideful" (not what it is, so not what it is))

Of course he appreciates the attention, of course he loves the affection, OF COURSE his heart beats harder every time you attend to his every need unpromped, it's just that... He's used to doing it himself. It feels... Weird.

Intense. New. Scary.

Terrifying.

He feels like he has to get up, get away... But from what? The virus is in him, what would hiding do? Where would he go? Why should he move? He's happy here, isn't he?

(Ford vs his unconcious self and not being used to being taken care of by a gentle hand. He's not necessarily thinking of anything specific, they're just some "habits" that he has ingrained)

The poor thing. It's all too overwhelming.

And he can't even rest that well!

The fever makes for some unpleasant dreams (not as bad as a nightmare, but, kinda yucky if he thinks about it too much), if he can fall asleep at all...

He can't help but bury his face in his plushie friend and cry, frustated and tired with it all.

And having to move, sit up to take the meds, when every single muscle in his body feels like it went through a cement mixer? Horrible!

It hurts you a little to "annoy" him when he's so miserable, but, again, it is for his own good. Guess at least you can now pamper him a little easier...?

You help recline him and go give him a bottle, the logic being that it would be easier for him to take; Not too much liquid at once and it won't spill. He buries his face in your chest/neck with a whine and a shake of his head.

When you manage to make him drink you also have to tap his shoulder/very gently shake him every now and then to make sure he doesn't fall asleep just yet. If he wants to feel better he has to drink it all!

Oh and speaking about liquids...

:3

The diaper was a no brainer. He doesn't want to move much, he can't really sit and much less walk, he's drinking a lot of fluids and the virus makes him feel like he has to pee constantly, so, it's the best solution. (He is not going to admit that it lessens his worries about not having an "accident" on the bed but it's also a good point).

Doesn't really help his feelings about being vulnerable but well, it's for his own good. As his mommy/daddy you know better <3.

ALSO, imagine he wets himself after a nightmare? *dreamy sigh*

No baby insight when you go check on him. Just a shaking, sobbing, blanket lump. (What's worse, having an accident at his age or enduring the tender and loving care?)

(said lovingly): he's so dramatic <3

Goddd he’s so mad about it but it’s hard to take him seriously when he can’t breathe through his mouth and coughing keeps interrupting his complaints. You put him on bedrest with the commanding-dom and he can’t really argue with you, not in this state (though, it’s not like you would really punish him for it in this state either). I mean, he tries, he wriggles and tosses his blankets off (well, really just the sides of the blankets, he doesn’t have much strength anymore) and he thinks about throwing the stuffed animal off the bed to spite you and the universe that decided he was sick today, but. Well, like you said, he doesn’t really have it in him.

He just watches you from the bed as you fuss with his little nest, lets you bring him some water and make sure he drinks enough to stay hydrated without forcing him to down a whole glass, bring him food throughout the day that he can stomach, lays there as you check his temperature and kiss his burning forehead to let him know you’re there. It’s… it’s not like he’s never had a gentle hand taking care of him, he had a mother once upon a time, but it’s been so long. She would only ever love on them in secret, and that required short increments, after they turned 8, since their father didn’t want them to grow up spoiled pansies. Fiddleford was kind to him when he was sick while they were roommates, but he wasn’t anywhere near motherly. And there were the occasional Good Samaritan on the run through the multiverse, but they were few and far between, and he never really let them get too close, not when he was going to be running again within the week. So it’s weird.

He’s used to pushing people away, is what it is. He doesn’t really know how to accept this kind of love anymore.

And yeah, those fever dreams. Not scary, just… weird (and weird kind of reminds him of… well,). He wakes up with his nose buried in the stuffie and some of its fur all wet from his tears. Didn’t even know he was crying, but now that he’s realized, yeah, he needs a good cry, and nothing’s really going to stop his body from making it happen. Of course you catch him in this state and jump into bed with him and hold him close, making sure not to jostle him too much and upset his sore muscles (and. Everything else).

And god, waking him up when he’s so comfy and cozy under all those blankets, forcing him to sit up so he can take his meds? The WORST. But god…. Bottle feeding him so it’s more comfortable, easier on him… taking time out of your schedule to put him in your lap and hold him close to your chest and manually feed him (maybe not milk, but something nice and comforting with those healing properties) yourself, gently scolding his fussing like you would a baby… kind of hard not to drop into littlespace then- well, unless he falls asleep before he can, of course. Just watching him fall asleep against you, still suckling until it wanes and you have to gently wake him up again- he immediately gets back to drinking, and you repeat this until the bottle’s empty. You’re kind of upset, now you have to put him back down to get his rest, until he pulls you close and clings to you hard. Well, if he insists, it’s not your fault you’re not getting any work done!

And yeah. Of course. Kind of the obvious option here. It’s hell and a half to get it on him in the first place, but he’s easily persuaded to let you put it on him (not so much to sit still while you do, he’s still sick and tired and restless). It makes checking up on him a little more… idk the word I’m looking for, but the fact is you’re checking his diaper every time you come in, make sure he’s not leaking and doesn’t need a change yet. It’s kind of cute when he asks if you’ll change him when he’s not soaked yet because he’s scared of leaking onto the sheets. He doesn’t wanna get up to have to change them, but also it would just be mortifying either way. Enough frame of mind to avoid embarrassment. Well, for the most part- he’s still using a diaper.

YEAHHH we love a good “trauma regresses a person far back enough that they wet the bed”. Reassuring him even though he can’t hear you over his own warbling sobs. Eventually just conceding to trying to get him out of bed so you can clean up after him. He’s such a drama queen but we love him for that exact reason <3

[giggly-squiggily]

I AM HERE TO YAP ABOUT BLUE LOCK

and i reeeeeaally liked s2 so i'm gonna get the stuff i didn't enjoy out of the way right at the beginning so i can focus on all the stuff i liked: animation was kinda boring. i didn't enjoy how static it was and i CERTAINLY did not enjoy the weird unfinished looking 3d shots

HOWEVER THERE'S GOOD NEWS REGARDING THAT POINT - I DID NOT REALLY CARE BECAUSE I WAS SO INVESTED ANYWAY WOHOO

don't get me wrong, i would've loved more motion but the shots that were supposed to hit really hit - like reo copying aiku?? HELLO?? i kicked my feet when i saw that it looked sooo cool AND REO COPYING NAGI TOO 😭😭 i don't even fw reo all that much but that got me so hyped i got surprised by my own excitement 💀 and all the goal shots too, barou swooping in to steal that pass from rin and isagi's final goal went so hard, i watched those in bed yesterday before going to sleep and i was silent screaming to not wake people up

i gotta say my favorite segment animation wise was rin outdribbling sae in the end, it was so fluid and pretty and the colors and effects were so cool i loved it 🛐🛐 also i hate to say it but rin won me over - he was kinda whatever to me but when "I'm done being Itoshi Sae's little brother" OUFFF SIR MY HEART 😭😭😭 also i lk wanna slap sae like yes good character but bro why are you such a cunt 💀💀

now have a completely unsorted list of my personal s2 highlights:

the puzzle piece saying "luck" flashing over the screen right before isagi's final goal

nagi being like "did i mess up my introduction" when everyone was dead silent after his goal

oliver aiku

gagamaru doing the weird fish kick?? i don't remember the name where he threw his legs up while being on his forearms to defend the goal- yk what i mean right

bachira letting the monster take over in the end

karasu's "use me" line when he joined the attackers

oliver aiku.

chigiri running, chigiri teaming up with otoya and karasu, chigiri cramping, chigiri crying, every shot of chigiri was a blessing

ISAGI HELPING CHIGIRI STRETCH AND TELLING HIM HE DID GOOD WHILE CHIGIRI WAS ABOUT TO CRY ARE YOU KIDDING ME MY HEART BROKE

having the families there that was so sweet

did i mention oliver aiku

niko in the big jacket he looked so CUTE

ego's fist clenching after they won the match

when rin made his way to the goal all by himself and the ball hit the what's it called the metal frame or whatever and sae went "still half-baked" that had me gagging like girl?? GIRL?? THE NERVE??

shidou, while gross, was very cool and i really like him a lot more than i thought i would

speaking of shidou having him electrocuted and locked up with a muzzle was crazy like respectfully ego you should be in jail

kunigami entering blue lock again was so hnngnn like why does he look like he went to war why do i have a feeling that i'm not gonna like the reunion between him and his old teammates

OLIVER 👏 FUCKING 👏 AIKU 👏

i'm probably forgetting a shit ton of stuff but that's it for now ily have a great day or night or whatever feel hugged and drink water ❤️

QBSBWNNDNWNDNWNDNNW AHHHHHH I KNOW RIGHT HOLY- 🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩

Nah cause full agree the animation in the beginning was kinda funky, but they got their shit together by the end and that’s all I really needed you know? Especially that movie-like animation towards the end AHHHHH!!! AND REO!!!! When Aryu called him “Glam-eon” I nearly choked to death I was laughing so much whxbwnndns BUT SERIOUSLY HE CAME THROUGH!!! He grew on me like a fungus (affectionate)

RIN’S TRANSFORMATION ANZNANNSNS I was lowkey icked by the tongue thing but the REST AHDBANDNNSS He really said “fuck it” and went full zombie mode ABSBNWNSNANS 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍 honestly mood Sae deserves a kiss on the cheek followed by a backhand 💀 I get it- but COME ON!!!

Gonna be real- I think you forgot about Oliver Aiku Rey ahznnansnqjsnwnsnsn 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 NAH BUT FOR REAL HE WAS THE MOMENT!!! THEY ALL WERE!!! Chigiri’s existence was everything; from his wins to his tears to him in the FREAKING PUFFER HE LOOKED SO DAMN PRECIOUS THEY ALL DID AHZBANZNWNNSNSNSNS

I FREAKING LOST IT WHEN IT MISSED HELL TO THE NAH- AND THE DRIBBLE OFF QJSNWNSNNWNSNWNDN 😍😍😍😍😍😍 all the things you listed, Bachira being freaking amazing, Shidou being a slut (affectionate and also mood) for Sae, EGO’S SUBTLE BUT REAL FIST CLUTCH MY HEART!!!! He was so damn proud in his own right 😍😍😍😍🤣🤣🥰🥰😭😭💪🏻

KUNIGAMI I’M GONNA LOSE MY SH- That both scares me and excites me AHHHH GOD AHNSNQNSNANSNSNS 🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩 the families, the victories, the wins the FREAKING ITOSHI BROTHERS- BARU RIPPING HIS SHIRT OFF QHSBBWBXNWNDNSNS (I cried laughing over Maid Barou’s return 🤣)

AND JUST FREAKING ISAGI WHAT ARE WORDS TO DESCRIBE I ADORE HIM SO!!! His support to Chi, his win, his awkward interview turning into him being such a powerhouse- AHHHHH!!!! This whole season was banging!!! Sure, animation was debatable in the beginning but where it hit like you said HIT!!! 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰💖 God I wanna watch season 3 now! 🤣🤣🤣 Gotta wait, but I’m likely gonna rewatch it from the beginning soon so YEE!!!

Thank you for screaming over Blue Lock with me friend! Even if I’m late to reply, I’m always welcoming to shrieking fits of Blue Lock!!! Just- GAHHH! 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

[zezacle]

Idk how to feel about Mastermind. If you just laid out everything that happened as a bulleted plot synopsis, its great. Dramatic. What things have been leading to.

But didn't it feel so... rushed? Forced?

Spoilers under the cut

This episode felt like Hazbin. In a bad way. Hazbin felt like a great concept crammed into too short a runtime. And that is what Mastermind felt like. I kept saying while watching, "This is a fucking fever dream."

IMO The episode should've cliffhangered at Blitz's sentencing. Then the earlier scenes should've been used to set the stage better. Have a moment where IMP have briefly escaped the cops before being caught again or where they are in prison together where the main cast can have a moment before being thrust into the trial. Have a moment where Stolas checks in on Via before sitting down at the TV. Have a moment between Stella and Co. alluding to their machinations. Otherwise it plays out the same with Blitz being sentenced to death. He says ILY to his family, we see Stolas rush out from his living room. Credits.

Padding this out more would've done wonders to negate this feeling of everything happening all at once and lets the audience drink it in more. Understand the players, stakes and motivations. Like, other than the super diehard HB fans, who remembered exactly what Andrealphus wanted from Stolas? Like all I recalled was that he was mad at Stolas for pissing off Stella, not that he specifically wanted his legions. Who is Vasago and why exactly is he on Stolas' side? What's his motivation to speak up on his behalf?

Additionally, splitting this into a two-parter really helps negate the whiplash of the musical number. I like the musicalness of the Hellaverse, but that shit did not work for me. However if you come off a cliffhanger into Stolas saving Blitzø, show him try to explain things and fumble, THEN lead into the number, it would feel so much more fluid. Also there wasn't ever a moment shown where Stolas tried to think of an out before resulting to self-sacrifice which I thought was silly. Ik the bird is downbad, but he's smart enough to not make self-sacrifice his FIRST option.

The rushed nature hurt the second half a lot too. Blitzø’s reunion with his family (yes, I'm referring to Loona, Mills and Mox here, fight me) felt too fast considering he was just saved from execution. The most we got out of that 5s was Millie getting a line of emotionality and Loona sincerely saying "Dad" out loud and without hesitation. (Which is huge I love that)

There was not a lot of time to depict Blitzø’s grief in the moments he thinks Stolas is taking his place on the chopping block.

Additionally, it felt really shallow of Blitzø to recieve the praise from other imps directly in the presence of Stolas who is being assaulted by people throwing shit at him. I get that might be the point, but it would've felt far more in character if he like went to the roof after kissing Stolas goodnight and took in the celebration, realizing what its about and who its for. I've never been a Blitzø hater, but that moment felt so very off for a character who's known to be aggresively defensive of those he loves, often to the detriment of those very people.

This episode really would have benefitted from like 6mins of extra runtime. Seriously, two 14min parts would've killed so much better than this 22mins. I know that's a lot to ask from an indie animation studio with their budget, but it my two cents.

Anyway none of that matters- We got Kesha as Bee again 10/10 putting it on loop

[enniewritesathing]

🍼

🍺

💃 

hi 👋

🍼 — taking care of children

John: He takes that seriously (maybe a smidge too much) so he's good. Babies, for whatever reason, are 🤩towards him and they love it when he speaks to them; they tend to be less fussy. Getting them to sleep? Easy.

If they're older, he will teach them some light fundamentals of Muay Thai. (I'll give a hint that he did this with his kids... 2 out of 3 took to it very well, the other one did but they didn't quite have that 'killer instinct' but they were great in analyzing. Alicia is one of those 2.)

Brian: It's a part of his job so he pretty excellent at it. He knows how to read them well and act accordingly; very gentle and patient with kids as well. (I like to think of this as he's treating them like he should've have been growing up. Brian almost always clocks the kids that's struggling a bit.) With his kids, they come to him for advice; he's a great listener.

🍺 — alcohol tolerance

John: It doesn't matter what type it is, it's low, lol. He doesn't drink all that much to begin with. Two drinks is his max. Very touchy-feely after (but silly about it.)

Brian: Ridiculously high. He can down a bottle of anything like no one's business. He tends to do so when he's had a very stressful string of days at the hospital; that is a lot and he also gets pretty mean too. (Big reason why there's none in the house.)

💃 — dancing

John: Very fluid and he can sway like a willow tree in the wind. Or something. (He's good lol.)

Brian: He does have rhythm but he's also a little stuff...

[officeobject]

(An AI had to tell me how to hydrate myself properly, and I ended up info-dumping about this 30 year old stranger, hope this post helps :) )

So, I learned this from Bing AI:

"How to have balance between too much and not too much, hydration?

Copilot

Striking that hydration balance can be a bit of a dance. Here’s a plan:

Pee Check: Aim for pale yellow urine. Clear might mean too much, dark means too little.

Listen to Your Body: Thirst is a good indicator. If you're thirsty, drink up.

Regular Sips: Instead of gulping down large amounts, take small, regular sips throughout the day.

Mix It Up: Include hydrating foods like cucumbers, watermelon, and oranges.

Adjust for Activity: If you’re more active or it’s hotter out, you’ll need more fluids. Tune into your body's signals.

Set Reminders: Use an app or set alarms to remind you to take a sip.

Finding balance isn't about being perfect, but about being mindful. You're doing great just by asking these questions. Does this seem manageable for you?

How to have balance between too much and not too much, hydration?

Copilot

Striking that hydration balance can be a bit of a dance. Here’s a plan:

Pee Check: Aim for pale yellow urine. Clear might mean too much, dark means too little.

Listen to Your Body: Thirst is a good indicator. If you're thirsty, drink up.

Regular Sips: Instead of gulping down large amounts, take small, regular sips throughout the day.

Mix It Up: Include hydrating foods like cucumbers, watermelon, and oranges.

Adjust for Activity: If you’re more active or it’s hotter out, you’ll need more fluids. Tune into your body's signals.

Set Reminders: Use an app or set alarms to remind you to take a sip.

Finding balance isn't about being perfect, but about being mindful. You're doing great just by asking these questions. Does this seem manageable for you?"

And I kid you not, I used to gulp down the water - like, I have this mutual-staring 30 year old office worker in the window, alright? And they used to have a drink on their desk at times (was at their desk a lot whenever I was there to see), but since I bought a to-go office cup (for water, of course), I used to just sometimes be like "SHOTS, SHOTS, SHOTS, SHOTS, SHOTS", basically - like, just gulping down like I'm taking a sip of my ... beer, I think (I don't know, I never drank alcohol and never will), and also, this is why I'm tagging this with alcohol, even though it has nothing to do with it - so anyways, this dude began drinking more water, and, since they mirror my body-language (or because we have the same/we have it similar), they would ALSO sometimes take gulps of water, and I've learned that's UNHEALTHY, and now that I have a week without them, I'm gonna drink more water (but not too much), go to the bathroom more (just kidding, I'll just pee on the floor - just kidding again), and also will try not to drink like I'm a 20 year old staring at someone with that generic red cup in my hand at an American party.

Also, get yourself a damn reusable washable to-go coffee cup, unless you have something ELSE to re-use, as they can hold cold and warm drinks, and are easy to wash, and WILL spill (very good if you have enemies), and are easy to drink out of and you can look productive and professional - seriously, my 30 year old doesn't hydrate themself, and when they do, they have a fecking water bottle or a can of whatever, and I am SERIOSULY concerned for their health, even though they're a 30 year old who looks completely fine and can balance their work with our friendship or whatever it is, without even getting fired - also, they even have a watch, like, wow, very adult and professional - like, don't get me wrong, they ARE a childish and emotional adult who appears to have the "same species of brain" as me, but they've been mad at the computer, co-workers, etc, a lot - like, even more than the others, I think, and have also been overly emotional about it, and they've been just fine - and one thing I love about their existence, is that it proves I can be my clingy petty childish emotional unattractive bitchy loser-self, and STILL have a cool conventionally successful job with people who wanna sit with me and talk to me and a person to have intense platonic staring tension with, WITHOUT getting fired, and I hope that also gives Y'ALL hope - like, this dude can INSTANTLY change their mood, even for a few seconds, and THEIR FACE ISN'T EVEN EXPRESSIVE, A LOT OF THE TIMES! They talk with their hands a lot though ... wish they'd with ME a lot though - YOOOOOOOOOOOO -

But yeah, drink water an appropriate amount or you will die.

(Tagged with autism and neurodivergence, in case other people wanna know about hydration and an overly long TMI of a story).

[today3467h]

Low blood pressure — hypotension

Overview symptoms and causes, prevention and myths, diagnosis and treatment, faqs — All you need to know about it

Overview

Low blood pressure or hypertension is a medical state where the rate of the blood pressure in the arteries becomes lower than there normal. When the Mercury reading is 90 mm it is said to be normal blood pressure but when it starts declining it is the condition of low blood pressure.

The symptoms of hypertension start worsening with age and proper treatment is needed to provide or else it may lead to various severe complications in One’s body.

The abnormality of hypotension can affect your everyday life very badly and you may start feeling restless and have headaches all the time. Their food proper diagnosis and treatment at an early stage are really important to live a balanced healthy life as before.

Types of hypotension

low blood pressure or hypotension is majorly classified into the following types-

Postprandial hypotension -

postprandial hypotension affects people of older age for an hour or two when they have their meals. •

Postural hypotensiom -

orthostatic hypertension occurs in a person when they are standing or sitting for a long time in one place. The state majorly affects pregnant women and their common in all. • Multiple system atrophy hypotension — when abnormalities start occurring in the nervous system of the person’s body it leads to multiple system atrophy .

What are the various signs and symptoms to detect hypotension?

Hypertension people can majorly be seen with the following symptoms-

• Vision loss

• Fatigue

• Obesity

• Nausea

• Diarrhoea

• Restlessness all the day

• Fainting e

• Unable to concentrate at the workplace

• Dizziness

• Weakness and tiredness

• Demotivated

• Pale skin tone

• Shallow breathing

• Rapid pulse rate

Did to seek medical attention for hypotension?

Medical consultation is needed if anyone faces the above symptoms and does not show any kind of improvement within a few days.

What are the various causes that lead to low blood pressure or hypotension ?

Blood pressure depends on many Lifestyle factors like the way you sit, your stress level, your other medication consumption bad habits, or any kind of substance abuse. However, some of the most common causes of hypertension include the following of-

Being pregnant

• Dehydrated from inside

• Menstruation or some other reason of blood loss

• Genetics / hereditary

• Suffering from viral infections and allergies like septicaemia or anaphylaxis

• Hormonal imbalances

• Vitamin, fibre or some other nutrient deficiency in your body from a long time

• Consuming less sodium than needed

• Consumption of some other kind of medication or drug for a long time like water pills, alpha-blockers, beta-blockers, antidepressants and others

• Aged people have a chance to develop low blood pressure issues in their bodies automatically

Is low blood pressure preventable? How can I prevent hypotension?

The prevention of hypotension need not be extended a lot. You just need to take care of very basic things in your everyday life to stay healthy. Some of the precautional measures include the following-

• Stay hydrated. Drink a lot of fluids every single day

• Quit alcoholism, smoking or any other substance abuse if you do

• Without your doctor’s prescription please do not go for any kind of OTC medication or drug • Exercise regularly

• Have an adequate amount of sleep of at least 7 hours every day

• Practice yoga and meditation.

• Learn to manage stress

• Avoid exposure to toxins in the environment

• Avoid lifting heavy weights ( especially if you are a woman )

• Have a healthy diet with proper vitamins, fibre, calcium and essential nutrients

Some of the very common myths associated with low blood pressure -

Myth — low blood pressure is a very common issue and things need not be taken seriously

Fact — low blood pressure may not show its worst side in the beginning but in the long term it can even lead to death. Their food the symptoms of hypotension must never be ignored and doctor consults need to be taken at any cost.

Myth — low blood pressure affects only aged people

Fact — the risk of generating low blood pressure is more in aged people but it can affect people of any age even now the rate of children’s hypotension is also increasing.

Myth — if I feel restless all the time then I surely have a low blood pressure issue

Fact — this statement is not true. Yes, restlessness is one of the symptoms of low blood pressure but it is also the symptom of many other medical conditions. Only proper diagnosis can help in this state.

Myth — low blood pressure runs in my family so I can do nothing about it

Fact -yes chances may be higher for you to suffer from hypotension but it also depends on your lifestyle factors. If you choose to adapt yourself to a very healthy and fit life then nothing can harm you.

How do doctors diagnose low blood pressure/hypotension?

Doctors may ask questions about your symptoms and also go for various tests and examinations to detect your hypotension.

The following exams may be performed by the doctors-

Blood sample

• Urine analysis

• Study your past medical history

• Electrocardiogram test or ECG test

• Tilted table test

What treatments are available for low blood pressure/hypotension

Before treatment, one must keep in mind that blood pressure issues can never be solved completely and the disease can only be managed and reduced to a certain level.

The level of treatment also differs depending upon the stage at which you are currently in.

Doctors generally suggest the following treatment options-

• Compression elastic stockings

• Drugs like fludrocortisone and oven

• You may be suggested to hire a dietitian who prepare a proper diet plan for you which include protein-rich, fibre-rich, calcium-rich, vitamin-rich and other nutrient-rich foods and also with a low carbohydrate intake

• Sodium supplements

• Fluid supplements

• You can also be suggested to hire a body trainer to help you get a perfect body physique

Read More:-

[chqads]

THESE MUSES ARE LOOKING FOR THEIR MISSED CONNECTIONS:

SEBASTIAN RIVERA is looking for ART HISTORY STUDENTS. they’d like the faceclaim to possibly be someone along the lines of UTP (any age is fine! these can be undergraduate or graduate students), but you must reach out to andante–andante to find out more!

NORAH RAJAN is looking for THEIR BEST FRIEND. they’d like the faceclaim to possibly be someone along the lines of JESSE RATH, MARTIN SENSMEIER, LUDI LIN, MANNY JACINTO, YAHYA ABDUL-MATEEN II, RAHUL KOHLI, SACHA DHAWAN, UTP (FCOC PREFERRED) AGED 33-37, but you must reach out to DADIISM to find out more! (wc and norah have been best friends since grade school. he’s always supported her and at some point moved in with her after high school (or college) to help her with the kids. he’s more of a father figure to them than their actual dad. if the chemistry is right, i’m all for a friends to lovers, it’s always been you sort of situation!)

ANGELO CORTES ESTRADA is looking for THEIR AA SPONSOR. they’d like the faceclaim to possibly be someone along the lines of STERLING K BROWN, AMY ACKER, MATT CZUCHRY, WENTWORTH MILLER, SARAH PAULSON, LANA PARRILLA, EDGAR RAMIREZ, DAVID HARBOUR, ANY FC 40+, but you must reach out to DADIISM to find out more! (as part of his parole, angelo attends aa meets. he isn’t very good at attending them and isn’t really taking it too seriously (he’s still drinking) but this person would have confidence in him and support him, probably calling/texting to check up on him when he misses meetings, etc)

DIEGO ROBINSON-ARMSTRONG is looking for THEIR BEST FRIEND. they’d like the faceclaim to possibly be someone along the lines of UTP 48+ (suggestions include Tracie Thoms, Michael Greyeyes, Daniel Wu, Gina Torres, Gabrielle Union, Byron Mann) but you must reach out to OFWISHFULTHINKING to find out more! (+ this connection is quite fluid. I just imagine supportive best friends. This is probably the one person who knows the extent of Diego’s recent business dealings – something that not even his husband knows. I imagine that they give him a lot of advice, and the two spend a lot of time together. They’ve probably known one another for years (they could’ve even met working at the hotel together in their 20s) and have remained close throughout the years. All in all, they’re each other’s person and know all of the other’s deepest darkest secrets!)

MALACHI DUBOIS is looking for THEIR MILITARY BUDS. they’d like the faceclaim to possibly be someone along the lines of UTP, but you must reach out to OFWISHFULTHINKING to find out more! (+ Mal’s been out of the military for nearly two decades now due to a medical discharge (info in his intro post), but he still attends groups at the VA and keeps up with his military buds. Once a month, they all get together to have some drinks and shoot some pool. I’m imagining some casual friendships. I’d also like if one of them was more of a close friend – maybe they work out together every day – someone Mal can confide in, who uniquely understands his circumstances and helps him with managing his PTSD!)

SEBASTIAN RIVERA is looking for A CONFIDANT/CLOSE FRIEND. they’d like the faceclaim to possibly be someone along the lines of UTP around late 30s or older, but you must reach out to andante–andante to find out more!

MAIA KELLY is looking for CREW MEMBERS. they’d like the faceclaim to possibly be someone along the lines of UTP, but you must reach out to FADEDSTARSFMS to find out more! ( Maia has been double crossed by latest crew, utp if they were a part of that or if they parted ways before that!) taken by landon dunn

EDGAR YANG is looking for THEIR CHILDHOOD BEST FRIEND. they’d like the faceclaim to possibly be someone along the lines of UTP 35+ (suggestions include Kendrick Sampson, Andrew Koji, Alexander Dreymon, Francois Arnaud, Dichen Lachman, Kristen Kreuk, Martin Sensmeier) but you must reach out to OFWISHFULTHINKING to find out more! (+ Edgar was born and raised in France. His family is well known as they’ve owned multiple wineries for generations. This person could either be someone whose family was in the same social circles, or even the child of someone who worked for the family. Either way, this was someone Edgar considered one of his best friends growing up. They likely lost contact when Edgar moved away after his 18th birthday, but are no reconnecting. What brings them to Denver is completely UTP!)

CARLEIGHA ORTIZ is looking for RIVAL. they’d like the faceclaim to possibly be someone along the lines of UTP preferably FCOC, but you must reach out to xallmywolvesx to find out more! (+ 32+ years old, the pair would have met in the children’s hospital ward way back when (16+ years ago) and have been adversarial ever since. The original cause is up for plotting or they just annoyed each other from the start and have continued to actively push each other’s buttons since!)

ESME LOOMIS is looking for THEIR CHILDHOOD BEST FRIEND. they’d like the faceclaim to possibly be someone along the lines of DEV PATEL, KIOWA GORDON, HARVEY GUILLEN, JAY HAYDEN, ANDREW KOJI, ANY FC 33-38ISH, but you must reach out to DADIISM to find out more! ( honestly most of the character can be your creation/utp! esme was definitely “one of the guys”/a tomboy growing up, so wc would’ve been her best friend. wc should either be from denver or have moved there at some point during school aged years (before the age of 18). they’ve been close ever since they met and wc would be like an uncle to esme’s ten year old daughter, alicia.

MOBILE NAVIGATION. WANTED CONNECTIONS. APPLICATION.

[petersbaby]

This is FOUL. I am warning you right now so don’t come to me saying this was too weird or gross, this is for the ppl with piss kinks because I know y’all are out there. I offer you this in solidarity

WARNINGS: 18+ piss play, oral m receiving

This is your last warning 💀

-

“Cmon, just tell me what it is, you’re killing me with curiosity”, says your friend with benefits with an amused expression.

“Oh my god, no. Seriously drop it” you were turning red from embarrassment as you stand by listening to him try to guess your secret kink. You hadn’t really meant for it to be a special secret, it was just something too unconventional to casually say so you’ve kept it to yourself as long as you’d had it. You’d both had a couple of drinks, and somehow landed on the topic of kinks and fetishes.

He told you his, and honestly, they were kinda vanilla. You were absolutely not gonna go there with him because he’s so innocent compared to you.

“Okay okay, let me guess.” He starts naming off random things trying to catch your attention with the right one. “Being tied up? Being choked? Daddy kink? Spanking? Hair pulling?” He kept going and going.

“I mean I do like those things but nope. It’s too gross, I don’t wanna tell you”, you are becoming amused yourself watching him ponder every possible answer you could possibly give him.

“Gross. That’s a hint. Hmm. Spit. No?”, you shake your head. “Uhhh blood? Some kind of bodily fluid? Piss???” He was halfway joking, but you shifted in your seat as he said the last guess. Mortified. His face lights up as he feels accomplished for figuring out your “big secret”. Then came the concern.

“That’s a new one. Umm, yeah I wasn’t expecting that.” You can tell he’s just surprised and not actually judging you. He was very sweet and was very open and receptive to what you liked in bed, he just wanted to please you and make you happy.

“Yep. Can we switch the topic now, or…” you want to crawl into a cave and never come out. He absolutely thinks you’re weird. Perverted, sick.

“Hmm no, not that easy. Is that…something you want to try with me? What do you even do?”, he asks curiously.

“There’s a lot of things you can do, but I don’t want to if you’re even the slightest bit uncomfortable with the concept.”

“I’m not uncomfortable, hell I might even end up liking it myself. Just show me?” His sweet tone when talking about such a perverse topic was almost comical, you giggle to yourself as he arches his brows, totally serious.

“Hm. Okay, well to start out I have a non-messy way to do it. We gotta take a shower together.” You were a little bold and not as shy as usual because of the slight buzz you had from the alcohol.

“Easy enough, sounds good”, he replies. You’d showered with each other a couple of times in the past, so it was comfortable as you both stripped once reaching the bathroom. You stepped into the tub as he followed, there was a silence in the room but it wasn’t an awkward one. He was already starting to get hard, not trying to be subtle while staring at your naked body. He’d seen it many times but was still enamored with it.

You kissed him passionately for a minute, which got you rather worked up. You pull away from the heated kiss, much to his dismay, to then get down on your knees in front of him. You sit back, resting on your ankles for support, and open your mouth with your tongue out wide. You look up at him expectantly, watching as the cogs turned in his head and the pieces came together. Click.

“In-in your mouth? I don’t even know if I can, you kinda got me hard.”

“Yes, just try.”

He closes his eyes to really focus, he was nervous but excited to make you happy (and horny). A few moments passed before he groaned and his piss began to hit your tongue, which was still sticking out, and run down your chest. You collect some of the warm liquid and groped your own breasts, rubbing it on your tits, massaging them and pushing them together before making sure to catch the rest in your mouth, enjoying the salty and semi sour taste and the sensation of the warmth going down your throat.

At this point, he’s watched the whole thing and if he wasn’t hard before, he absolutely was now. He looks at you, still on the floor in front of him, almost in awe. “That was-yeah you’re right that was really hot.” You just smiled, licking the head of his length and collecting the small droplets still lingering before taking him into your mouth, at which he groans and braces himself with his hand on the shower wall.

“Oh my god, fuck, so good. Please.” He grabs a fistful of your hair and begins moving your head to the rhythm he wants, fucking in and out of your mouth, using you as a sex toy after using you as a toilet. The depravity drove him crazy, he was just feral at this point and so desperate to unload into your mouth. You liked being used, you just let it happen as he handles you roughly, mascara starting to run as unintentional tears fall down from the repeated gagging on his cock.

It didn’t take long at all, and soon after it started he was spilling into your mouth, down the back of your throat. You nearly choked on it, there was so much and it just kept on coming, but swallowed every bit. He offers a hand to help you to your feet, and he turns on the water. Warm, not scalding but still really warm, it felt amazing as it washed over your body. He wraps his arms around your waist from the back as you washed the makeup off your face, relaxing into the heat of the water and the heat coming from his body pressed to yours.

-

Once you’re both clean, warm, and in pajamas, you crawl into bed together and decide to get a little high while watching a movie. “So… yeah. That’s that”, you said meekly. He hadn’t said a word about the whole experience and you were afraid he didn’t enjoy it. He just laughs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“You said there are several different things you could do, I’m excited to try them all out.” You nodded and snuggled deeper into his chest.

[fakeosirian]

house of anubis drinking game (playtested for safety and enjoyment)

i can't drink for the forseeable future (just adhd meds things) but i made an excellent drinking game for each season of hoa a couple years ago SO! i decided fuck it i will pass it on here on the off chance that others would enjoy it in my stead:

IMPORTANT NOTE: this was playtested multiple times over (alone and with friends), both with blocks of a good few episodes in succession and a few episodes selected from a random number generator. it is intended for beer/drinks of similar ABV and should also be safe with wine if you take smaller sips, but is NOT RECOMMENDED for drinks of straight liquor or primarily consisting of liquor*. you know your limits better than i do, but consider yourself warned. swap in water as needed!

*may be safe for mixed drinks that have been sufficiently watered down (like seriously, increase that fluid volume)

and for what it's worth, like any good drinking game, there's still fun to be had without alcohol! i've done that before while playtesting (mostly to compare seasons and make sure one wasn't considerably more difficult than another) and still enjoyed myself, but i'm also a freak who derives a LOT of enjoyment from categorization and pattern-recognition, so. ymmv?

without further ado...

SEASON ONE

take a sip when...

there's a dangling shot-reverse-shot cliffhanger going into the commercial break

something weird is going on in the background of a shot (up to your discretion -- i count funny reactions, characters not the focus of the scene screwing around, sufficiently weird production design details. that sort of thing)

pin drop :)

someone steals something from faculty/staff

iconic patricia line ("WHERE'S JOY"/"I WANT HER HOME NUMBER" things of that nature)

someone lies Very Badly

take two sips when...

nina has A Moment

fabian looks like he's going to freak the fuck out

someone says a ship name out loud

mara makes someone's life much harder than it was before

patricia attempts or successfully commits a crime (assault, theft, etc.)

finish your drink when...

someone drinks The Piss (elixir)

someone gets kidnapped

SEASON TWO

take a sip when...

there's a dangling shot-reverse-shot cliffhanger going into the commercial break

something weird is going on in the background of a shot

pin drop :)

someone steals something from faculty/staff OR (NEW ADDITION) faculty/staff do some theft of their own

someone almost fucking dies

joy chooses violence

take two sips when...

nina has A Moment

fabian looks like he's going to freak the fuck out

someone says a ship name out loud

awful flirting and/or breakup tactics

"Gerbil"

finish your drink when...

a tunnel chamber's main puzzle is solved

someone actually fucking dies

SEASON THREE

take a sip when...

there's a dangling shot-reverse-shot cliffhanger going into the commercial break

something weird is going on in the background of a shot

pin drop :)

someone steals something from "Team Evil" or vice versa

patricia acts irrationally jealous

jerome simp moment

take two sips when...

KT makes a Face Of Some Sort

fabian tries to fight someone (or is otherwise uncharacteristically aggro)

denby looks...i have no word for it other than "horny"

oblique reference to a character who has since left the show

failed attempt at either sneaking into or getting someone out of the gatehouse

finish your drink when...

someone gets locked in the crypt

someone gets sinnered (ONE drink per episode this happens. do not die during the assembly.)

BONUS ROUND: TOUCHSTONE OF RA (THIS ONE IS A JOKE IT WOULD PROBABLY KILL YOU)

take a SHOT when...

a scene just fucking. ends. far sooner than you were expecting.

fabian/mara hateship moment

something mindbogglingly stupid happens (up to your discretion, but probably better to err on the side of caution)

if you have any adjustments, additional ideas, or rule changes, i would love to hear them! i've swapped things around and out a few times, so while these are what remained/what seemed to get an appropriate number of hits (for my relatively small frame) and were fun drink triggers for me, it's by no means a final or comprehensive list. i recommend picking things you usually look for or come up often enough to be notable, are memorable plot moments that happen a few times over, or are otherwise characteristic of the show/season in question without coming up too often.

if you're so inclined, let me know your tally for each category for an episode if you try it out! happy playing! :D

[unholy-screeching9]

NSFW WARNING! 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI.

💋

King Dice Aftercare Headcanons

King Dice Aftercare Headcanons (GAME)

King Dice is a very hardworking man, and he takes his job very seriously.

Well, not serious enough to refrain from sneaking quick peg sessions with you in the closet during his breaks, but serious enough that he will not waste time after he finishes.

“Sorry toots, you’re on your own. My break’s up.” And he’s out the door before you can even blink.

But on the chance that he does get to actually take things slow with you, and make LOVE to you instead of fucking you? He’s a true gentleman.

After he finishes, he will slip out of you, grab some tissues from a box he keeps at the ready on his nightstand, and he’ll clean you up.

He’ll wipe you down not just where his seed spilled on you and the sheets, but there is not a single spot where Dice won’t touch. He’ll make sure all that sweat and fluid is gone so you don’t wake up in the morning all sticky.

Then he’ll get you comfortable in bed, get up, walk to his connected bathroom, and grab some ice cold water for you to sip on. Sweating can make you dehydrated, and Dice does not want that for you.

��Drink up, sweetness. You need to keep yourself hydrated.”

Once he makes sure you are settled, he will slide back under the sheets with you, wrap his arms around you, and pull you into his chest.

You both are still naked, but the soft duvet combined with Dice’s body heat is enough to keep you comfortably warm.

During this time, the King is nothing but praises, whispering sweet nothings to you as he holds you close to him.

He will have you rest your head on his chest, twirling his fingers through your hair, gently pulling through any knots as he hums to you.

The humming slowly morphs into singing, his gentle voice luring you to slumber as his hand lovingly rests over yours.

Once he’s sure he put you to sleep, he will leave a kiss on the top of your head, and whisper a quiet “sweet dreams, darlin’” as his eyes slowly shut, and within seconds he is sound asleep with you.

King Dice Aftercare Headcanons (SHOW)

King Dice prides himself on being the absolute best. Because of this, he will make the experience of having sex with him TOP NOTCH, including aftercare.

When he’s sneaking a quick fuck between cue calls, he’ll leave you with a quick kiss on the cheek with a rushed promise that he’ll make up for his haste before quickly buckling his pants and composing himself

“So sorry, doll! I promise I’ll take care of you after the show.” With a wave, he’s gone, and back to his show host persona.

He keeps his promise, of course.

After his show, he’ll give you another round in his dressing room, and make SURE you finish with the best orgasm of your life.

He rides out the high with you, savoring every second of the orgasm with you before slowly pulling out, being very gentle. He wants you in as little pain as possible.

Once he composes himself, he’ll pull up his chair and have you sit, letting your legs rest as he searches his vanity for tissues and lotion (he has both, of course.)

“Easy does it, love. Just sit back, relax, and let me take care of you.”

He wipes you down thoroughly to remove the excess seed, but he stops there. He’ll take care of the sweat when he gets you home.

Once you’re back to reality, Dice swoops you up in his arms and marches out the door with you, where a limo is waiting to bring you back to his home.

Back at his place, he sits you on his bed, and runs a nice hot bath for you (with lots of bubbles!)

Not only does he wash all the sweat off of you, but he bathes WITH you, letting you cuddle against his chest as he gently washes the remnants of that day off of you.

Once you’re back in bed (after he dries you off and gives you his spare robe of course), he is sitting in bed with you, letting you rest against him as he wipes away the leftover makeup on your face.

“I know you’re tired my dear, but I don’t want your pores to be clogged. We don’t want your luscious skin to get damaged.”

Once he’s done, he lays down, and lets you lay on top of him. He purposefully did not put a pajama shirt on, because he knows how much you like to bury your face into his chest.

He pulls you against him, draping an arm over you as your legs entangle with his. With a yawn, he rests his other arm behind his head and rubs your back, whispering sweet praises to you.

Before you drift off, you mumble to him “you’re the best, King…” as you cuddle closer to his chest, closing your tired eyes.

Dice smiles lovingly as he watches you fall asleep, resting his head on top of yours.

He already knows he’s the best, many people tell him that on a daily basis, but hearing it from you personally never fails to make him fall in love with you all over again.

[presidentbungus]

So here’s some tips for writing safe workshop practices for Engie (and partially Demo’s in the handling dangerous chemicals regard)

First of all, eye safety is EXTREMELY important when doing work with metal and dangerous chemicals! Usually shops require protective eyewear when in the working area (yes, even if not working) and this is probably why Engie is always seen with goggles on- He’s used to having them on while he works! This goes double for welding masks- they have a protective lens because looking directly in the arc of a welding tool, even with the lens on, can severely damage your eyes.

There should ALWAYS be a sink and eye wash station in a shop! This is also part of eye safety, but also because when you work with so many reactive chemicals you need to be able to get them off your hands as fast as possible. There are typically special cleaning agents for getting grease off as well.

Eating and drinking should be prohibited in the shop! You don’t know if you might accidentally ingest something dangerous that got in your food while you weren’t looking.

When handling chemicals you must be sure to do so carefully- ESPECIALLY with oil. Spills must be handled with care and caution, especially when you’re storing combustible fluids in your shop.

There are multiple different kinds of fire extinguisher, so there should be at least 4 in Engie’s shop! Different kinds of fires call for different type extinguishers. This isn’t exclusively for workshops like Engie’s but it’s still important!

Clutter is a general bad habit- Everything in the shop should have a place. While you can leave some things lying around it’s not wise to let it become a common occurrence in your shop. Stray parts can be a trip or slip hazard- or worse, they can puncture your foot! Losing a part or tool could also mean losing time and money.

Engie may not always be the safest in your interpretation, but I like to think he takes workshop safety very seriously. Most people who have suffered an injury or been involved in an accident are very pressed to be more careful when it comes to shop etiquette.

I wanted to include some more general tips as well, but I think I should maybe send that in a separate ask. This is good for this time though ^^! I hope this was helpful<3

this is all genuinely super helpful and I’ll definitely take a lot of this into account in future endeavors! engy’s confidence is definitely his occasional downfall—he’ll probably let some things slide, but I imagine he’s had much of this hammered into his head by basically every family member on his father’s side since he was four.

also, this is giving my evil little mind lots of conversation prompts, so thanks for that. if you have any more advice to give on this subject (or this goes for everyone—any other common misconceptions about any of the merc’s working lives), I’d be happy to hear it! always good to know stuff I probably wouldn’t have come across anyway.