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nanamineedstherapy · 2 days ago

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Third Wheeling Your Own Marriage

F!Non-Sorceres Reader X Gojo Satoru X Nanami Kento

Summary: You should be overjoyed that Gojo Satoru & Nanami Kento are your husbands. But you feel your skin crawl as you become the third wheel in your own marriage.

Tags: Angst, Found Family, Dark Humor, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Pregnancy Drama, Unreliable Narrators.

Warnings: Body Horror, Mentions of Emotional Neglect, Pregnancy Complications, Nightmare Imagery.

A/N: The mystery Hunk is finally here! We’re diving headfirst into the start of an alternate ending I had previously intended for this fic mid first scene, so buckle up. I promised this chapter wouldn’t have funny bits, but apparently, Mystery Hunk had other plans. Also, the husbands will be getting an earful of their own shit. If you’re here for cursed energy-infused pregnancy drama and Mystery Hunk stealing hearts with his black cat husband energy while side-eyeing Karens, you’re in the right place, and yes, he’s stealing the spotlight unapologetically. Let me know in the comments: Is he the best worst fake husband ever?

Previous Chapter 4 - The Gravity of Running (Tumblr/Ao3)

Chapter 5 - Something Soft, Something Sharp

You didn’t even have time to react before his hand snaked around your leg. The two of them dragged you out of your hiding spot, your thrashing limbs no match for their combined strength.

They had found you.

“Running away doesn’t suit you,” Gojo said, his tone mocking, dangerous.

You glared at him, removing the scarf from your mouth, your movements jerky, your hands trembling as you shoved both their hands off you. “Don’t touch me.” You tried to stand.

The effort was futile—your legs buckled, and you sank back down. Pain radiated from your swollen belly, grotesque.

Their gazes dropped to your stomach, the sheer size of it impossible to ignore, finally noticing what you’d been trying to hide.

Even at just five and a half months, your uterus had already distended to a grotesque parody of its former shape. The two tornadoes brewing inside you made you look eight months pregnant, their relentless growth stretching your abdominal wall to its limits. Your stomach bulged outward, a taut and swollen orb that seemed to strain against the confines of your skin, as if the very fabric of your body was being slowly, inexorably torn apart from the inside out.

Nanami’s eyes widened. “You’re…”

Gojo’s expression cracked, his six eyes glowing faintly as they locked onto your swollen stomach. “You’re pregnant.”

The twins squirmed beneath their stares, sending sharp jolts of pain through your abdomen. You bit your lip, refusing to show weakness, to clutch your belly, even as your body betrayed you.

You didn’t dignify their obvious revelation with a response, focusing instead on pulling yourself upright. Every attempt to rise felt monumental, the strain making your head swim, but you managed to straighten up, your breathing ragged. Their awkward, hesitant hands reached toward you, only for you to glare them down.

They stood there, helpless, as you hobbled past them toward the living room. Each step felt like dragging yourself uphill in a storm, the strain making your vision blur. By the time you reached the couch, you were shaking so badly that you had to clutch the back of a chair for balance. Lowering yourself onto the cushions was its own Herculean task, the pain so intense you had to bite back a scream. Your hand moved instinctively to your belly, rubbing slow, trembling circles over the taut, aching skin.

You spoke low but firm, “Leave.”

“We’re not leaving,” Nanami replied, his voice firm but strained, his face a storm of conflict. “You’re pregnant, my love. You didn’t even tell us.”

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh and humorless. “What’s there to tell? It’s just a medical condition, right?”

“At least lie better,” Gojo said, his tone mocking as his eyes lingered on your stomach, then continued, “Although I thought you had had a hysterectomy?”

Nanami’s hand twitched; his jaw tightened at Gojo’s casual demeanor. “Don’t.”

Your anger flared, the months of humiliation and abandonment clawing their way to the surface. “Don’t what? Diminish it? You mean like you two diminished me?”

You had deduced earlier that Gojo’s RCT might have detected your lack of a uterus and classified it as an error, then corrected the said error. Or perhaps it was Nanami’s RCT’s doing, considering he could now heal himself and was immune to attacks like fire since becoming a special grade. Although as far as you knew they couldn’t heal people but it might have changed when they would have been inside you. You didn’t care to find out any more, and you certainly wouldn’t let them in on it.

The words hit like a slap, the air between you crackling with tension.

“It’s none of your business,” you spat, your voice shaking with rage.

“None of our business?” Nanami’s voice was low, his usual calm cracking. “We’re your—”

“You’re nothing to me anymore,” you interrupted, your tone icy. “You made sure of that.”

“That’s not true,” Gojo flinched as if struck, his voice breaking in a way like it was about him, making you hate him more. “We—”

“You abandoned me!” The words tore from your chest before you could stop them. “You left me alone for months! You laughed, you fucked each other, then posted all your OMG-I’m-so-in-love photos online for my employees to stare at and give me looks of sympathy. While... while I sat there and died inside!”

“You left without telling us!” Gojo’s voice rose, desperation creeping into his tone.

“And you didn’t notice for six weeks!” You yelled, your voice breaking. “You were too busy fucking each other to even see me! I could have been tortured, raped, killed and buried long ago with evidence wiped, but you both were too busy fucking each other to see me!”

Gojo’s expression twisted, the pain in his eyes cutting deeper than any accusation. “We didn’t know how to reach you. We thought you needed space.”

“Space?” You laughed again, the sound hollow. “You gave me space to suffocate.

Nanami visibly recoiled, guilt carving deep lines into his face. “We made a mistake—”

“Mistake?” You cut him off, your voice cracking under the weight of your fury. “Mistakes don’t last for months. Mistakes don’t make someone feel so invisible they disappear. Mistakes don’t force someone to flee halfway across the world just to fucking breathe! You think I’ll forgive you just because you decided to find me now?” You huffed and continued, “Well, guess what? I learned to live without you two a long time before I left, so why don’t you both go fuck each other some more and leave me alone!”

Gojo spoke softly, inching to touch you. “We’re here. We care about you.”

“Care?” You laughed bitterly, tears spilling down your cheeks. “You humiliated me. Your stunt at my office nearly destroyed everything I’ve built. Do you think anyone respects a CEO whose husbands storm her building and beat up her employees?”

Nanami’s gaze dropped to the floor, his fists clenching at his sides. Gojo opened his mouth, but you didn’t let him speak.

“And let’s not forget the internet is a circus, and you’re the clowns.,” you hissed, your voice shaking, ears burning with humiliation. “I’m being dragged into the spotlight for something I never wanted public. All because of you. They’re calling me a sexual deviant and undermining everything I have ever done while simultaneously thirsting over you two, because, of course, men don’t get the same treatment. #TwoHolesForAReason is still trending. What the actual fuck, Nanami? You too?”

Your voice trembled with a mix of anger and despair, and your breathing grew heavier, each word feeling like a weight pressing down on your chest. The injustice of it all clawed at you, the betrayal stinging sharper than any physical wound. You felt exposed, vulnerable, and utterly powerless as the world turned your life into a spectacle, and the very people you loved were at the center of it.

Nanami’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening with a mix of anger and sorrow. “We were wrong. We should have been there for you. We should have…” He trailed off, unable to find the words.”

You could see the guilt etched on their faces, the way they shifted uncomfortably, as if your words were a physical weight pressing down on them.

“Tell me,” you said, your voice low and trembling, “did you even think about me when you were together? Did I ever cross your minds?”

Gojo opened his mouth, but no words came out. Instead, he looked at Nanami, a silent plea for understanding passing between them, but Nanami kept staring at your stomach. The moment stretched, and you could feel the desperation radiating from them, but it only fueled your anger.

“Don’t look at him,” you snapped, your voice sharp. “You both made this choice together. You both decided I was expendable.” The image of Gojo grabbing Nanami’s pecks mid-fight at your company came to your mind, and you resisted the urge to bash his head in.

Nanami’s shoulders slumped, the fight draining from him. “We were selfish,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion.

Gojocut him off, his hands trembling like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t dare. “We love you.”

“You love each other,” you said, your voice barely a whisper, breaking. “And I was just... there. An afterthought. An inconvenience.”

Silence.

Nanami stepped closer, his hand reaching out instinctively, but you shrank further. “Please,” he said softly. “Let us help.”

Gojo stepped forward, his hands outstretched, but you recoiled, the instinct to protect yourself overwhelming. “Don’t,” you warned, your voice trembling. “Don’t you dare touch me.”

The hurt in his eyes was almost unbearable, but you couldn’t allow yourself to feel sympathy. Not now. Not when the wounds were still fresh, still bleeding.

“Just go,” you said, your voice breaking. “Just leave me alone.”

Nanami’s face fell, the weight of your words crashing down on him. “We can’t just walk away,” he said, desperation creeping into his tone. “We love you. We want to be here for you. And the babies.”

You wrapped your arms protectively around your belly, your body trembling from the effort of holding yourself upright, the weight of their presence suffocating. “I don’t need you. We don’t need you.”

Your voice cracked on the last word, betraying the pain you’d tried so hard to hide.

The finality of your words made them both freeze, their faces pale and stricken.

You turned your face away, unwilling to look at them any longer. The silence stretched, broken only by the sound of your ragged breathing.

(alt ending 1.1)

“You heard her.”

The voice from the doorway made you freeze.

Sukuna leaned against the frame, arms crossed, his tattoos stark against his pale skin. His grin was sharp, dangerous, and entirely out of place in your tiny apartment.

“And who the hell are you?” Gojo snapped, his six eyes narrowing as he turned to face the intruder.

Sukuna’s smirk widened. “None of your concern. But unlike you two, I don’t barge into her life uninvited.”

Nanami stepped forward, his gaze calculating. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“It does when you’re upsetting her,” Sukuna said, his tone light but edged with menace. His crimson eyes flicked to you, softening slightly. “You good, princess?”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “I’m fine. Just… please get them out of here, Ryo.”

The way you said his name weakly made Sukuna straighten, his grin turning feral as he rolled his shoulders like he was preparing for a fight. “You heard her. Time to go.”

Gojo stepped toward Sukuna, his grin tight, his energy shifting. “You think you can just waltz in here and—”

Sukuna cut him off by closing the gap in a single step, towering over him. His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “Try me, pretty boy.”

Nanami's shoulders squared, his gaze calculating. “Leave. This doesn’t concern you.”

Sukuna’s eyes flicked between them, his lips quirking into a smirk. “I’m here because she wants you out. Seems like it’s very much my concern.”

Gojo rolled his shoulders, the first hints of tension seeping into his movements. “You’re barking up the wrong tree, pal. She’s our wife. We’re not going anywhere.”

“Both your wife. Eww, Sukuna grimaced.

Before Sukuna could continue berating them, Nanami moved. His fist lashed out, aimed for Sukuna’s jaw.

Sukuna caught it with an open palm, the force reverberating through the room.

“Oh, we’re doing this,” Sukuna said, voice maniacal, before pushing Nanami’s fist just enough to force him to step back.

Gojo lunged, his speed almost imperceptible, but Sukuna sidestepped him lazily, his movements fluid. “Do you two always resort to fists first?”

“Do you always waltz into someone else’s business uninvited?” Nanami countered, already throwing another strike.

You tried to rise, your voice strained. “Stop—”

Your attempt was cut off by a sharp, tearing pain in your abdomen. A cry escaped your lips as your hands instinctively cradled your belly.

Nanami faltered mid-punch, his head snapping toward you. “She’s in pain. Gojo, stop!”

Gojo hesitated, his fists lowering as he glanced back at you. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

You couldn’t answer, your breaths coming in short, shallow gasps. Sukuna moved before either of them could, crossing the room in a few steps. He knelt in front of you, his large hand resting gently on your knee.

“May I?” He asked, his voice calm.

You nodded weakly, unable to muster the energy to speak.

Sukuna’s hand moved to your belly, his palm warm against the strained skin. A faint glow surrounded his fingers as his RCT began to work. The relief was almost immediate, the tightness easing as the twins’ restless movements stilled.

Nanami stepped towards you, his fists clenched. “Get your hands off her.”

Sukuna didn’t look up, his focus entirely on you. “She needs this. Or would you rather let her suffer while you two throw tantrums?”

Gojo bristled, his hands twitching at his sides. “I don’t trust you.”

“Good,” Sukuna replied smoothly, his tone almost mocking. “I wouldn’t trust me either. But I’m not the one who left her to deal with this alone.”

That struck a nerve.

You let out a shaky breath, your body finally relaxing as Sukuna pulled his hand away. “Better?” he asked, his gaze meeting yours.

You nodded, tears stinging your eyes.

Sukuna stood, his movements unhurried as he turned to face the two men. “She’s carrying enough weight without you two adding to it. If you really care about her, prove it by doing something useful. Like fucking off.”

The tension in the room was palpable as Gojo and Nanami glared at him, their fists tightening at their sides.

Before Gojo could move, Nanami placed a hand on Gojo’s shoulder, pulling him back. “Enough. This isn’t good for her.”

Gojo’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t resist.

“We’ll be back,” Nanami said, his gaze steady as it locked onto yours. His voice was low, carrying both regret and resolve.

Sukuna snorted. “Not if I can help it.”

Without another word, they turned and left.

Once the door clicked shut, the silence rushed in, oppressive and heavy.

Sukuna turned back to you, his expression softening. “You need to rest.”

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Stay?”

He smiled faintly, taking a seat next to you on the couch with respectable space between you two.

Your head swam, a sudden wave of dizziness taking hold. They were coming more frequently now, spells that left you breathless and trembling.

But before you could fall off the couch on your head, Sukuna was there, one of his large, calloused hands wrapping securely around your upper arm. The heat of his touch grounded you as he guided you carefully to the other side of the couch.

“Easy,” he murmured, his voice a soft rumble. The sharp edge was still there, but muted, like a blade sheathed. “You don’t need to waste energy on those idiots.”

A weak laugh slipped past your lips as you wiped your eyes, though it sounded more like a gasp. “They’re not idiots. They’re just… pain in my ass.”

His eyebrow arched, he chuckled, the sound warm. “Could’ve fooled me. Barging in here like they own the damn place. If it were me—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, shaking your head even as your hand trembled against the couch cushion. “I don’t need more madness, Sukuna.”

His grin softened, though it didn’t lose its devil-may-care quality. “Fair enough. But you’ve gotta be smarter about this. They’re not going to stop just because you want them to.”

“I know,” you whispered, barely audible, as your hands cradled your belly. The motion was protective, almost subconscious, as you rubbed soothing circles on it.

His sharp crimson eyes followed the movement, narrowing as they settled on the curve of your stomach. “You gonna tell me the truth now?”

Your throat tightened, the walls closing in as panic tried to claw its way to the surface. “I—”

“Relax.” His voice dropped lower, almost a purr, as he leaned back against the couch. “I’m not here to judge. Just saying, if you need someone to run interference, I’m your guy.”

You blinked at him, your heart hammering as you searched his expression. “Why are you helping me?” You asked, the words trembling in the air.

His grin returned, sly and self-assured as always. “Because it pisses them off. And because I like you, princess. Not in a ‘love thy neighbor’ way, but in a ‘let me take you on a date’ way. You’ve got guts.”

A laugh bubbled out of you, shaky and wet with leftover tears but real nonetheless. “Thanks, Sukuna.”

“Anytime.” He shifted, his arm draping casually over the back of the couch, though the movement seemed deliberate, protective. “Now, what’s the plan? Because those two aren’t going to stop sniffing around just because I scared them off.”

You let your head fall back, exhaustion pulling at your limbs, heavier than ever. “I don’t know. I just need... time.”

“Then time’s what we’ll give you,” he said, his voice low and firm. “Let me handle the sorcerer boy band.”

For the first time in weeks, you felt a small flicker of hope.

Sukuna didn’t waste time. The same night, after Gojo and Nanami showed up, he had you telling him what you wanted packed. His demeanor calm, though his crimson eyes burned with quiet determination.

“We’ll leave at midnight,” he said, tossing your suitcase onto the bed. “New place, new names.”

You hesitated. “Sukuna, this is… too much.”

He glanced over his shoulder, his grin not unkind. “It’s not. They’re sorcerers, princess. And the strongest too, but not stronger than me.” His tone was laced with a smug confidence. “If you want to stay hidden, you don’t half-ass it.”

By dawn, you were in another country; your new apartment was upscale and screamed money, but it was cozy too. The marble floors, high ceilings, and soft leather couches were a far cry from your tiny space.

Sukuna waved off your questions about how he’d managed it all so quickly, his smirk the only answer you’d get. He had taken care of everything—paperwork, flights, even a fake backstory in case anyone asked too many questions.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” he said, tossing you the keys. “Welcome to your new life, and just enjoy the upgrade.” He lounged on your new couch, his relaxed posture a stark contrast to the turmoil inside you.

He refused to leave your side, and you didn’t argue. It was a relief to have him there, especially since you were certain they would show up eventually. Also, you needed someone around, not just for protection but also because you weren’t exactly the icon of flexpertise right now. The morning sickness and dizzy spells had become a regular part of your day, making even simple tasks feel daunting. Plus, he could help pick things up from the floor and assist you when you needed it. His RCT would also come in handy if you got sick.

The following days blurred into one another, Sukuna taking charge in ways that left you both grateful and unsettled. He was relentless, managing everything from your meals to your prenatal vitamins.

One day he dragged you somewhere the sun hung high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the bustling streets as Sukuna pulled you along, his grip firm yet gentle around your arm. You could feel the heat radiating from the pavement, the air thick with the scent of blooming flowers and street food. It was a stark contrast to the anxiety swirling in your chest.

“Are you sure about this?” you asked, glancing around nervously. The last thing you wanted was to run into someone who recognized you from the controversy that had followed you like a shadow. The thought of being exposed made your stomach churn, the twins inside you shifting restlessly in response to your unease.

Sukuna paused, turning to face you, his crimson eyes piercing yet reassuring. “Trust me. No one will recognize you here.” He flashed a grin, the kind that made your heart race despite the worry gnawing at you. “Besides, I’ll be your husband today. No one will question us.”

You raised an eyebrow, skepticism creeping in. “Husband? What if someone asks questions?”

“Then I’ll just tell them I’m the luckiest man alive,” he replied smoothly, his tone playful. “And you’re the most beautiful woman in the world.” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “And if anyone gets too nosy, they’ll be disposed off.”

You thought he was just joking at the last bit, but little did you know he was serious.

You couldn’t help but smile at his bravado, even as a flutter of anxiety twisted in your stomach. “You really think this is a good idea?”

“Absolutely,” he said, resuming his pace, his hand still firmly guiding you by the arm. “You need to get out, meet other birthgivers, and enjoy this experience. It’s good for you and the brats.”

As you approached the community center, the sounds of laughter and chatter filled the air, mingling with the soft strumming of a guitar. The vibrant colors of the decorations and the cheerful atmosphere were infectious, but your nerves still danced beneath the surface.

Sukuna opened the door for you, his demeanor shifting to one of quiet authority as he ushered you inside. The room was filled with expectant mothers, some cradling their bellies, others bouncing babies in their arms, some even with their partners. You felt a pang of envy at their ease, their confidence radiating like the sunlight streaming through the windows.

“See? Just regular people,” Sukuna said, his voice low and steady as he scanned the room. “You’ll fit right in.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. “What if someone recognizes me?”

“Your mask won’t let them. And if someone does recognize you, I’ll tell them you just look like the CEO, but you have been my wife and have never been to Japan,” he replied, his tone light but firm. “And if that doesn’t work, I’ll make sure they forget they ever saw you.”

His confidence was infectious, and you found yourself relaxing slightly as he led you to a circle. He settled beside you, his presence a comforting weight. As the instructor began to speak, you felt Sukuna’s hand rest on your knee, a grounding touch that eased the tension in your body.

After a brief round of introductions, the instructor clapped her hands, her voice that chipper mix of optimism and oblivion. “Alright, everyone, before we start our poses, let’s share a bit about our experiences as parents! Who’d like to go first?”

Sukuna leaned back, arms draped lazily over his knees, his smirk sharp enough to slice through the tension. “I’ll go,” he said, his tone dripping with casual confidence. “So there we were—me and my lovely wife—on a little trip to the beach. You know, just a casual day in the sun.”

The other mothers leaned in, their eyes sparkling with interest, while their husbands shot daggers at Sukuna, their expressions a mix of envy and irritation. He was tall, muscular, and exuded an effortless charm that made him the center of attention. You could practically feel the heat radiating from the glares directed at him, but Sukuna seemed unfazed, basking in the admiration like a cat in a sunbeam.

“Of course, I had to carry her to the water,” he continued, gesturing dramatically. “She was so heavy with those twins, I thought I might need a forklift!” Laughter erupted from the mothers, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

Turning back to you, his expression triumphant. “So, I heroically carried her through the waves, and she screamed like a banshee when the water hit her feet.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation washing over you. “I did not scream like a banshee!” you protested, but the laughter bubbling up made it hard to keep a straight face.

“Sure you did,” he teased, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “And I was the brave knight saving you from the evil ocean.”

“Look at him,” one mother whispered to her friend, her eyes sparkling. “He’s like a model or something!”

“Right? And he’s so sweet with her,” her friend replied, glancing at you with a mix of admiration and envy.

Soft giggles bubbled through the room, accompanied by fluttering lashes and whispers. Sukuna exuded a kind of dangerous magnetism.

One mom whispered too loudly, “He’s like... a walking romance novel,” her husband coughing pointedly beside her.

Sukuna caught the comment and scowled. “Eyes up front, lady,” he muttered under his breath, annoyed but not surprised. When another woman blatantly winked, he leaned closer to you, slipping an arm around your waist with exaggerated intimacy. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” he cooed, voice low enough for only you to hear. “These vultures are giving me a headache.”

You rolled your eyes and shoved him off.

The instructor spoke. “Okay! Let’s get into couples’ poses. First, the trust fall!”

Sukuna stood, cracking his neck like he was prepping for a fight. You shot him a warning glance. “Don’t drop me.”

He smirked. “No promises.”

As you leaned back, trusting his arms to catch you, another mom muttered something about his “strong, capable hands.” Sukuna sighed, catching you effortlessly before twirling you upright with unnecessary flair. “Keep staring, and I might start charging admission,” he called out, his voice a mix of annoyance and smugness.

“I got one more.” He didn’t wait for approval, because, of course, he didn’t. “So there we were, me and my beloved wife”—his crimson eyes flicked to you with a smirk that screamed chaos—“on a romantic hike in the wilderness. Out of nowhere, she decides to wrestle a goat because it wouldn’t let her pet it.”

The room froze. A couple of moms paused mid-stretch, their jaws dropping like they’d just heard the start of a soap opera. The dads exchanged side-eyes that translated roughly to, Who the hell is this guy?

“And, naturally,” Sukuna continued, his voice syrupy with faux affection, “I couldn’t let her handle it alone. She’s fearless, sure, but not exactly built for a one-on-one with livestock.”

“Oh my god,” you hissed under your breath, digging your nails into your mat. “Stop lying.”

Sukuna ignored you, gesturing dramatically like he was recounting a battle for survival. “So I stepped in, took down the goat, and carried her—my delicate, fragile wife—back to safety.” His grin widened, exposing sharp canines. “All in a day’s work.”

A collective sigh swept through the room, a mix of disbelief and blatant swooning. One mom muttered, “That’s so... romantic.” Another just stared, eyes tracing the veins in his forearms like she was drafting fan fiction in real time.

The dads? All glaring, but none of them dared to say a word. Sukuna, at 6’6” with biceps that looked capable of cracking skulls, radiated the kind of energy that said, Try me. I dare you.

“Alright, Romeo,” you muttered, elbowing him. “Enough.”

Before he could retort, a woman in leopard print, Karen—yes, she had the haircut and everything—stood up, arms crossed and nose wrinkled like she smelled bullshit.

“Excuse me,” she said, voice whiney, “but that story sounds ridiculous. And frankly, this is a yoga class, not open mic night.”

Sukuna turned his head slowly, like a predator catching the scent of fresh prey. “Oh? Didn’t realize we had a fact-checker in the room.”

Karen puffed up, undeterred. “I just think it’s important to set a good example for our kids. You’re just trying to make yourself look good in front of all these women. What kind of husband are you, anyway? And lying—”

“Lying?” Sukuna interrupted, his tone dangerously sweet. “I don’t lie, sweetheart. Some of us just have a sense of humor. You want proof? I’ll take you hiking. Maybe you’ll end up wrestling a goat too.”

Karen crossed her arms with a smug smile on her face and leaned in with a condescending tone. “So, what exactly makes you think you’re qualified to be a husband? I mean, can you even handle a simple pregnancy without making a joke out of it?”

Sukuna’s voice dripped with mock sincerity. “You’re absolutely right. I’m a terrible husband. I should’ve let her handle the goat alone, huh? Really prove her mettle.” His smile dropped as he deadpanned, “Maybe next time, I’ll wrestle your husband instead.”

The room went silent, save for a muffled snort from someone in the back. Karen’s husband, who had been trying to become one with the floor, suddenly found the need to tie his shoelaces.

“Well, no real husband would let his wife wrestle a goat. And clearly, this yoga class is for serious parents, not... posers. Some of us treat the miracle of life with the respect it deserves. I mean, she probably got pregnant out of wedlock, and you’re probably the chump who got stuck with it,” she spat, her eyes narrowing as she regarded you with open disdain.

You opened your mouth to retort, but Sukuna stood up, towering over her with an intimidating presence. The air crackled with tension as he leaned in slightly, his voice low and menacing.

“For the final time, I. AM. HER. HUSBAND. The kind who’s here to support his wife, unlike some people,” he said, his tone dripping with a dangerous edge. The room fell silent, the other husbands shifting uncomfortably, their glares intensifying as they sensed the storm brewing.

“Back off, lady,” one of the husbands muttered, clearly not wanting to get involved but unable to resist the urge to defend his pregnant wife.

Karen’s husband made a strangled noise, somewhere between a cough and a plea for help. Sukuna glanced at him, sizing him up like he was calculating the time it’d take to fold him into a yoga block. “You good over there, champ?”

The instructor, visibly sweating, clapped her hands again. “Okay, time for the next pose, the Partner Downward Dog! Let’s channel all that energy into our health!”

Sukuna groaned, muttering under his breath, “This woman and her yoga cult...” He shot a glance at you, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly. “You good to do this, or do I have to carry you like the delicate little penguin you are?”

“I’m fine,” you shot back, already struggling to maneuver your cumbersome body into position. Your stomach felt stretched beyond reason, and every movement brought a new kind of discomfort.

Sukuna was behind you in an instant, his large hands steadying your hips. His touch was firm but not rough, a quiet kind of reassurance he’d never acknowledge. “Alright, lean forward. I’ve got you.”

You could feel his gaze linger—not on the curve of your belly but lower. “Are you ogling my ass?”

“Shut up and focus on not falling,” he grumbled, though his smirk gave him away.

The instructor clapped again, her forced cheerfulness grating. “Great job, everyone! Now, onto the partner wheelbarrow pose.”

You groaned, already dreading it. Sukuna, however, was unfazed. He easily lifted your legs, holding you steady as you awkwardly braced your arms on the mat.

Karen, the reigning queen of unsolicited advice, determined to assert dominance. “You’re supposed to engage your core more,” she said, her voice cutting through the room like nails on a chalkboard.

Sukuna didn’t even glance at her. “You’re supposed to shut up, Karen.”

She gasped. “My name is not…How dare you—”

“Don’t care.” Sukuna set you down and stood, cracking his knuckles. “Focus on your own yoga or let’s take this outside, or are you gonna send your husband?”

Karen sputtered, her face turning red as her husband tugged nervously at her sleeve. Now actively sweating. “Uh, babe, maybe let it go.”

Karen turned on him. “Are you scared of him?!”

“...Yes.”

“Don’t you start!” She snapped on him.

“...Okay.” He shrank back, clearly regretting every life choice that had led him to this moment.

Meanwhile, the instructor was frantically flipping through her clipboard. “Uh, next pose! Let’s try... uh, partner flying boat!”

Sukuna raised a brow, clearly unimpressed. “Flying what now?”

“Just lift me,” you muttered, too tired to argue.

With an exaggerated sigh, he grabbed your hands and hoisted you into the air. The ease with which he balanced you on his feet was almost insulting. He looked up at you, a cocky grin spreading across his face. “See? I’m a natural.”

“You’re a show-off,” you grumbled, though the slight flutter in your chest betrayed you.

Behind you, Karen tripped over her mat again because her husband was clumsy, landing face-first with a muffled shriek.

Sukuna grinned, all teeth. “Careful, Karen. Wouldn’t want your husband to have to wrestle me over that.”

Her husband? Already halfway out the door.

He didn’t stop there. With unnecessary flair, he spun you around, earning gasps from the other moms. “He’s so strong,” one whispered, her voice tinged with awe.

“I can hear you,” Sukuna said sharply, his glare cutting through the room like a knife. “Eyes off.”

The mom in question flushed, looking away quickly. Even Karen seemed momentarily stunned into silence.

When Sukuna finally set you down, his hands lingered on your arms, steadying you. “Alright, you’re done for today,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“You don’t get to decide that,” you protested weakly, already too exhausted to stand.

“I just did,” he shot back, his voice softer than usual as he guided you to sit. His attention was back on you, the rest of the room forgotten. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, leaning against him. Despite his gruffness, you couldn’t deny the safety his presence brought.

Throughout the class, Sukuna was incredibly attentive, fetching water for you whenever you needed it and ensuring you stayed focused. You found yourself laughing openly after months, his unhinged stories and sassy comments bringing a lightness to the atmosphere. He reminded you of Megumi’s dad from years ago, the way he openly showed affection to Megumi’s mom. You couldn’t help but wonder how they were doing after his father passed away long before you reconnected with Megumi in college. The last you heard, his father had left a substantial sum to his mom to start their security solutions business, which Megumi had been managing while also pursuing his psychology degree.

He was quite a few years younger than you, and despite the years of no contact, he had come through for you when you needed him. But you couldn’t reach him now; he had a knack for tracking people down like his father. You remembered Megumi’s frustration when you had to leave your home country to marry the two men. He had been openly against your decision ever since he met them—he could warm up to Nanami, but Gojo? Marrying two men? That was a different story entirely. A wave of nostalgia washed over you as you realized how much you missed your college friends.

As you watched Sukuna’s antics, a swell of gratitude filled your heart. His unwavering support was a comforting presence, even as the reality of your situation loomed in the background.

After the class, as you stepped outside into the warm sunlight, Sukuna turned to you, a satisfied grin on his face. “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You shook your head, a smile breaking through your earlier anxiety. “No, it was actually… nice.”

“Good. We’ll keep doing this,” he said, his tone resolute. “You need to enjoy this time, and I’ll make sure you do.”

As you walked back, the warmth of the sun on your skin and Sukuna’s presence beside you, you felt better. Maybe, just maybe, you could find a way to navigate this new life, one day at a time.

A couple of days later, the hum of your laptop was the only sound in the room, save for the occasional clack of your nails on the keyboard. Deadlines loomed, projects needed greenlighting, and your inbox was a battlefield of investors, board members, and department heads vying for your attention. You weren’t just the CEO of your company—you were the company. And even now, with your back aching and your feet swollen beyond recognition, you were determined to stay on top of it all.

Then, of course, Sukuna had to barge in.

“Are you seriously still working?” he drawled, leaning an arm against the door frame with that maddeningly smug look on his face.

You didn’t bother looking up. “I’m busy.”

“You’re pregnant.”

“And?”

“And you’re about to take a damn break,” he said, stalking into the room like a cat ready to knock something valuable off the table.

You scoffed, glancing at him over the rim of your blue lens glasses. “I can’t just stop working. This company doesn’t run itself.”

“Funny, I thought you hired executives for that,” he shot back, his crimson eyes narrowing.

“They still need me.”

Sukuna crossed the room in two strides, towering over you like a thundercloud. Before you could react, he reached down and unplugged your laptop with a decisive click.

“Hey!” you protested, scrambling to grab the cord, but he was faster. With infuriating ease, he tossed the power adapter onto a high shelf you had no hope of reaching in your current penguin state.

“What the hell, Sukuna?”

“Watch me,” he said, smirking. “Your job is to grow those little gremlins, not work yourself into the ground.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words died in your throat. The exhaustion hit like a freight train, your body sagging into the chair as if it finally realized it had permission to rest. Your glare softened, replaced by a quiet sigh of defeat. “I can’t just... stop,” you muttered, weaker now.

“You can,” he countered, crouching to meet your eye level. His voice was softer this time, the sharp edges smoothed out. “The company will survive without you for a few months. You? Not so much if you keep this up.”

He had a point, damn him.

“I still need to make arrangements,” you mumbled, leaning back and pressing a hand to your belly. The twins kicked in response, as if to echo his sentiment.

“Then make them,” Sukuna said, standing up and pulling your ergonomic gaming chair—he had gotten you one in your fav color—away from the desk with a gentle tug. “But from the couch. And only after you’ve eaten something.”

You wanted to argue, but the idea of sinking into the cushions and delegating for once was too tempting. “Fine,” you relented, glaring half-heartedly as you stood. “But only because you’re being annoying.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, penguin.” His smirk widened as he helped you waddle toward the couch, ignoring your threats of retaliation.

And maybe, just maybe, you felt a little lighter knowing he was right there to catch you when you needed to let go.

The pregnancy itself felt alien. Your body, once familiar, now seemed foreign, stretched to the limits of what it could endure. Veins stood out like rivers on a map, and your skin itched with a ferocity that no cream could soothe. At night, under dim lights, you swore you saw the twins moving just beneath the surface, shapes pressing against your belly as if testing the boundaries of their world.

But when you spoke to them, the chaos stilled. Your voice, soft and uncertain, seemed to reach them in a way nothing else could. “You’re being good today,” you murmured one evening, your hand rubbing olive oil on the tight curve of your stomach. The twins stirred beneath your touch, a gentle nudge pressing against your palm as though answering your unspoken thoughts. Tears welled in your eyes as a fragile smile tugged at your lips. You blinked them away.

From the doorway, Sukuna watched, arms crossed and face unreadable. His presence was always imposing, even when he wasn’t trying to be, but tonight there was something almost tentative about the way he lingered.

“They listen to you,” he said finally, his tone an odd mix of observation and something softer, almost vulnerable.

You nodded, not trusting your voice. The moment felt too delicate to break with words.

Sukuna pushed off the doorframe, his steps heavy but measured as he crossed the room. He reached for the blanket draped over the back of the chair, shaking it out with a flick of his wrist before tucking it carefully over you. His hands moved with an ease that belied his usual brashness, adjusting the pregnancy pillows he’d insisted on buying—three of them, because one wasn’t enough, apparently.

You watched him as he worked, the sharp lines of his face softened by the dim light. He paused when he caught you staring. “What?”

“Nothing,” you said, the corner of your mouth quirking up.

He snorted, clearly not buying it, but didn’t press. Instead, he stepped back, as if retreating to a safe distance.

“Sukuna,” you said suddenly, your voice breaking the quiet.

He stopped, half-turned toward the door.

“Do you want to feel them?” You gestured to your belly, your voice laced with genuine curiosity.

His reaction was instant and comically transparent. His shoulders stiffened, and his crimson eyes darted to your stomach like it might explode. “What? No. Why would I want to do that?”

You tilted your head, your smile turning sly. “Because they’re your kids, oh faux husband?”

“They’re your kids,” he shot back, his voice gruff, but the tips of his ears betrayed him, turning a faint shade of pink.

You laughed, low and amused. “You’re scared.”

“Am not,” he snapped, but the defensive edge in his tone only confirmed it.

You pressed, grinning now. “Big bad Sukuna, terrified of a couple of unborn gremlins?”

He glared, sulking. “I’m not scared. I just... don’t see the point.”

“Right.” You patted the space next to you on the bed. “Come on. They won’t bite.”

He hesitated, looking like you’d asked him to stick his hand into a nest of vipers. But after a moment, he moved closer, his movements awkward and deliberate, like he was approaching a wild animal.

“Here,” you said, taking his hand and placing it gently on your ginormous stomach. His palm was warm and rough against your skin, and for a moment, he didn’t move.

Soon, a tiny kick met his hand, tentative but unmistakable.

Sukuna froze. His eyes widened just a fraction, the briefest flicker of something raw and unguarded crossing his face.

“They’re saying hi,” you teased, your voice soft.

He pulled his hand back like he’d been burned, stuffing it into his pocket and muttering, “Yeah, well, tell them to keep it down.”

You laughed again, a sound that filled the room and made his scowl deepen. But there was no mistaking the way his gaze lingered on you, softer now, as if the weight of the moment had settled somewhere he desperately wanted to acknowledge.

After ensuring you were comfortable, he retreated to his usual spot in the next room. You heard the creak of his bed as he settled in, close enough to hear you if you called out. The bed wasn’t weak; he was just a giant sequoia tree.

Later that night, when the nightmares came—vivid and merciless—you woke trembling; the images of Gojo’s cold eyes and Nanami’s unforgiving hands lingered, still fresh in your mind, as though they were still in the room. Sukuna was there before you could fully sit up, his hands steady on your shoulders.

“Breathe,” he commanded, his voice firm but not unkind.

When your breaths came shallow and quick, he didn’t leave. Instead, he sat with you, his presence solid and grounding as the panic ebbed.

“You’re fine,” he said, his tone gruff but edged with a care he’d never admit. “I’ve got you.”

And he did. Even when his hands trembled just the faintest bit from exhaustion, you knew he wouldn’t let go. You noticed his long nails were filed down now.

His care was relentless, though not without its abrasive edges. He harassed you to eat, to drink water, to rest. When you tried to push back, his response was always the same: “Argue all you want, princess, but I’m not going anywhere.”

And he didn’t. You felt a sense of comfort in that. Your actual husbands, the fathers of your babies, had abandoned you months ago, while this man—who had no obligations to you—loved you as easily as breathing. You could see it in the way he ensured everything was always within reach for you, even when he wasn’t around. If you asked him for water fifteen times in a night, he’d fetch it for you every single time, despite his fatigue. He’d grumble and yell, but he’d still bring it to you without fail.

He hadn’t even mentioned the date he wanted since that day; he gave you the space you needed until you were ready. He did all of this for you without asking for anything in return. Even when you felt like a human submarine, he found ways to compliment you in his own unique manner, while your husbands had long ignored your existence, even before your pregnancy. You felt desirable, but right now, you simply didn’t have the energy to reciprocate anything.

One day the air in the apartment was stifling, even with the ocean breeze teasing the edges of the balcony curtains. You leaned against the railing, letting the salt-tinged wind kiss your skin. Sukuna was out, and for a few minutes, you allowed yourself a moment to enjoy the ocean breeze, to imagine a life where your past couldn’t find you.

Then you saw them.

Gojo’s stark white hair caught the light first, gleaming like a ghost under the streetlamp’s glow. His figure was impossible to miss, a beacon of anarchy, while Nanami’s shoulders were squared, his sharp gaze cutting through the night like a blade, locking onto you with unrelenting sharpness. His arm rose, a silent gesture to Gojo, and together they moved, their silhouettes bleeding from the street into your sanctuary like shadows with intent.

You immediately grabbed your phone.

Ryo: Please come home fast.

The knock was more a warning than a courtesy. Gojo didn’t wait for permission; the door swung open with an ease that felt invasive, wrong. They stepped inside, their presence heavy, oppressive, as if the air itself recoiled from their arrival.

“You’ve been busy,” Gojo said, his voice unnervingly calm. The cocky lilt you knew so well was gone, replaced by something jagged, something that cut.

Nanami’s eyes drifted downward, catching the curve of your stomach. His brows furrowed, confusion twisting into something darker as a ripple moved beneath your skin. It wasn’t subtle—an inhuman and ugly stretch, limbs pressing outward like trapped spirits testing the walls of their cage. You cursed yourself for wearing a crop top, but nothing else fit you these days, and it was too warm here in Schelles. His gaze snapped back to your face, but the damage was done. You saw it: the revulsion, the disbelief.

The air between the three of you crackled, silent but electric. Gojo’s eyes were locked onto yours, an ocean of emotions churning beneath the surface—rage, fear, something almost resembling grief.

“What’s going on?” Nanami finally asked, his voice tight, controlled, but teetering on the edge.

Your throat burned as you swallowed, the words threatening to choke you. Still, you forced yourself to stand straighter, your nails digging crescents into your palms. “Fine. You want the truth?” Your voice cracked, and you hated yourself for it. “They’re Sukuna’s. I’m pregnant with his twins, and since he’s half a curse, so are they.”

The room plunged into a suffocating silence.

Gojo’s grin faltered, the carefully constructed mask he wore slipping. His hands curled into fists at his sides, knuckles white. Nanami’s face was a study in restraint, but the tightness of his jaw betrayed him.

“You’re lying,” Gojo said, his voice low and icy.

You laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. “Why would I lie? You ignored me. You left me in a country where I didn’t even understand the language. Sukuna didn’t. He took care of me when you didn’t even notice I was breaking.”

“Disgusting,” Gojo spat, his words venomous.

Your vision blurred, but you refused to break. Not in front of them. Your hands trembled as you gripped the edge of the counter, the only thing keeping you upright. “Then leave. And don’t come back.”

Nanami flinched—a small, almost imperceptible movement, but enough to make your chest tighten with anger. “You expect us to believe that you… cheated?”

“I expect you to believe whatever lets you sleep at night,” you snapped, your voice trembling but resolute. “Because the truth doesn’t matter to either of you. It never did.”

Gojo’s hands shook now, the façade of control crumbling. “You think this is about us? Do you know what I’ve been through? What we’ve been through? I had to kill my best friend. Suguru—” His voice cracked.

“I don’t even know who that is,” you hissed, your anger flaring. “You’ve never mentioned him before. I don’t understand why you’d react like this over killing some long-lost friend I’ve never even heard of. You’ve spent years with Nanami—more time than you ever did with whoever that is, so for all intents and purposes, he should be your best friend. And even if you were so sad over your so-called best friend, why am I the one left to bear the brunt of your grief? What did I do to deserve this?”

You aggressively wiped the single tear that rolled down your cheek and continued, “I begged you—both of you—for any semblance of affection. I told you I was drowning, and you just... left me. You fucked each other for months while I cried myself to sleep in a corner of your penthouse, wondering why I was even there.”

Nanami stepped forward, his voice steady but strained. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Wasn’t it?” Your voice was a blade, sharp and unforgiving. “When I came back to confront you, you were sleeping peacefully in each other’s arms. Like I didn’t exist. Like I wasn’t your wife.”

The words landed like physical blows. Neither of them moved.

“I’m sorry,” Gojo whispered, the words fragile, brittle.

You shook your head, tears burning tracks down your cheeks. “Sorry doesn’t fix this. Sorry doesn’t erase what you did. You don’t deserve forgiveness. And even if I could forgive you, I will never forget the night I became an intruder in my own marriage.”

Nanami reached out, his hand hovering near your arm, but you recoiled, crossing your arms protectively over your stomach. “Don’t. You don’t get to touch me!”

Gojo’s voice dropped, desperation leaking through the cracks. “We didn’t know you were pregnant.”

“Of course you didn’t,” you said, your voice shaking with fury. “You didn’t care enough to notice. Even with your six eyes and your oh-so-great curse signature reading abilities you always bragged about, you didn’t.”

When you finally spoke, your voice was quiet but unyielding. “Leave. Sukuna will send over the divorce papers. Sign them and don’t come back.”

They hesitated, their expressions unreadable, but when you pointed toward the door, they obeyed. The sound of it slamming shut echoed through the apartment, leaving you trembling in its wake.

It had to be this way if you were to keep your babies safe, away from the dangers of the sorcery world. You needed to ensure that no one could take them from you.

A few minutes later, Sukuna returned. Finding the front lock broken, he rushed inside, his presence filling the space with a warmth you hadn’t realized you needed until now. He took one look at your tear-streaked face and the shattered pieces of your resolve and said nothing. Instead, he crossed the room, his arms enveloping you in a hug, firm and grounding.

“They were here,” he stated, not asked.

You nodded, your voice barely a whisper. “I told them the twins are yours; I’m sorry nothing came to mind.”

He tilted his head, his crimson eyes studying you. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of them when they come back.”

“They won’t,” you said, your voice hardening. “They don’t deserve to know them. Or me.”

Sukuna smirked, but it wasn’t mocking. “Good.”

And when he sighed, content, for the first time in a long time, you truly felt that you were safe.

You peered up at him.

Sukuna smirked, his arms still holding you close. “Told you I’d take care of you, princess.”

But even as you closed your eyes, the weight of your choices pressed down on you, heavier than ever.

The hum of the plane’s engines was a constant, hollow noise, drowning out the world outside. The cabin was dim, lit only by the faint glow of a reading light over Nanami’s seat. He stared blankly at the leather-bound hardcover of The Myth of Sisyphus in his lap, its pages untouched. Beside him, Gojo leaned against the window, his long legs stretched out in the aisle, his eyes obscured by the darkened lenses of his sunglasses.

Neither of them had spoken since takeoff. The silence between them was heavy, a chasm filled with unspoken truths and raw, festering wounds.

“She’s lying,” Gojo said finally, his voice barely above a whisper, like speaking it aloud would make it more real. “The twins… they’re ours.”

Nanami didn’t respond immediately. He flipped the book closed and placed it on the tray table in front of him, his movements deliberate, mechanical. “I know.”

Gojo let out a hollow laugh, pressing his knuckles against his lips. “She doesn’t understand these things because she can’t see them. Those… those legs under her skin.” His voice cracked, and he turned his head toward the window, the faint reflection of his face pale and gaunt. “That’s not Sukuna’s cursed energy. One of them is mine, and one is yours.”

Nanami’s hands gripped the armrests until his knuckles turned white. “It doesn’t matter.”

Gojo turned to look at him, his sunglasses sliding down his nose enough to reveal his bloodshot eyes. “How can you say that? They’re our kids, Kento. She—she’s going to raise them with him.”

Nanami closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, as if releasing the air from his lungs could somehow ease the ache in his chest. The weight of his thoughts pressed down on him, a suffocating reminder of the choices they had made and the consequences that followed. “And what would we offer them, Satoru? A life filled with curses? A life of blood and death?” His voice trembled slightly, betraying the turmoil within. “She’s better off with him, away from us.”

He opened his eyes, staring blankly at the seat in front of him, as if the fabric could somehow absorb his pain. “I’ve looked into him—he abandoned sorcery long ago and holds no loyalty to its hierarchy. He’s free from the chains that bind us, free from the expectations and the endless cycle of violence that defines our lives. He will prioritize her, unlike us, always off on missions with no guarantee of return.” The bitterness in his tone deepened, each word laced with regret. “He will be there for her, keeping her and the kids safe.”

Nanami’s mind raced with images of what could have been—a life untainted by the darkness of their world, where laughter replaced the echoes of sorrow and love flourished without the shadow of fear. He could almost see you smile, the warmth of your presence, and the innocence of their children, untouched by the burdens they carried. But that vision felt like a distant dream, slipping further away with each passing moment.

“Do you think we could have given them that?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking the thought aloud would make it more real. “A chance at a normal life, free from the horrors we’ve faced? We’ve only ever known how to fight, how to survive. What kind of future is that for them?”

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the weight of unspoken truths and the haunting realization that they had failed not just you, but the very lives they had hoped to protect. Nanami’s heart ached with the knowledge that their choices had led them to this moment, a crossroads where love and duty collided, leaving only fragments of what could have been.

Gojo slammed a fist against the armrest, the sound startling in the quiet cabin. “We didn’t even fight for her. Not once. We just… let her slip away. What the hell is wrong with us?”

The weight of Nanami's eyes settling heavily on Gojo. “We broke her, Satoru. Piece by piece, until there was nothing left of the woman we claimed to love.” His voice was steady, but his words were sharp enough to cut. “And now she’s gone.”

Gojo’s head dropped into his hands, his shoulders trembling. “I thought… I thought I was doing what I had to. After Suguru, after everything, I just—” He choked on his words, his breath hitching. “I couldn’t lose you too. And I did. I lost both of you.”

Nanami’s gaze dropped to the floor, his voice quieter now. “She begged us to see her. To hear her. And we didn’t.”

Gojo dragged a hand down his face, the stubble on his jaw rasping against his palm. “She looked at me like I was a stranger, Kento. Like I wasn’t even human. Like she was scared of me.”

“She had every right to,” Nanami said, his voice carrying a weight of finality. “We left her alone. We left her angry, grieving, and drowning; we made her feel like she didn’t belong in her own home. Then we chased her relentlessly from one country to another. Any woman, pregnant or not, would be scared.”

Gojo’s laugh was bitter, devoid of humor.

The silence returned, heavier now, punctuated only by the muffled sound of Gojo’s uneven breathing. Nanami sat motionless, his hands resting limply on his lap; he looked utterly shattered.

“Do you think she’ll forgive us?” Gojo asked, his voice barely audible.

Nanami didn’t answer immediately. He stared out at the endless expanse of clouds outside the window, his expression unreadable. “I don’t think it matters.”

Gojo’s breath hitched again, and he leaned back in his seat, tilting his head to the ceiling as if he could somehow escape the crushing weight of his own guilt. He murmured. “We could’ve—”

“Could’ve doesn’t change anything,” Nanami interrupted, his voice harsh. “She’s gone, Satoru. And she’s not coming back.”

The finality of those words settled between them, cold and unrelenting. Gojo turned his head toward the window, the light from the wing of the plane catching on the tears that slipped from beneath his sunglasses. Nanami sat motionless beside him, his gaze fixed on the book in front of him.

Neither of them spoke again for the rest of the flight. The weight of what they had lost, what they had destroyed, was louder than any words could ever be.

The days after their visit felt heavier than anything you’d endured. The lie sat like a stone in your chest, each passing moment adding to its weight. You told yourself it was necessary, that it was for your children. But it didn’t stop the nightmares that came in fragments, jagged and disjointed, like shards of a shattered mirror slicing into your subconscious.

You stood in a darkened room, the walls pulsing faintly as if alive. A sickly red light seeped through the cracks, casting terrifying shadows that writhed and twisted. Your breath fogged in the cold air, the chill sinking into your bones.

Gojo was there first, his white hair glowing unnaturally in the dim light. His face was obscured, his features blurred as if smudged by unseen hands. But his voice was clear, cutting through the oppressive silence like a knife.

“You’re disgusting.”

The words echoed, multiplying, each iteration louder than the last until it became a deafening chant. His silhouette loomed larger, his hands outstretched, fingers impossibly long and claw-like. They reached for you, dragging through the air, each swipe leaving behind trails of darkness that spread like ink.

You tried to move, but your feet were rooted to the ground. When you looked down, black tendrils coiled around your ankles, slithering up your legs. They were cold and wet, like the touch of something ancient and decayed.

Behind him, Nanami appeared, his back to you. His suit was untouched by the darkness that surrounded you both. You called his name, your voice trembling and weak, but he didn’t turn.

“Ken!” you screamed, desperation clawing at your throat.

When he finally moved, it was slow, deliberate. His head tilted slightly, just enough for you to catch the edge of his profile. His lips parted, but no sound came. Instead, his skin cracked, fine lines spreading across his face like a porcelain doll dropped from a great height. From the fissures seeped black ichor, thick and oozing, dripping down to pool at his feet.

He turned fully then, and you wished he hadn’t. His eyes were empty voids, twin abysses that seemed to pull you in. His expression was blank, his mouth set in a line of quiet condemnation.

“Why did you lie?” His voice was soft but burrowed into your mind like a parasite.

“I had to,” you whispered, though your words felt small, swallowed by the growing shadows.

“Did you?” he pressed, his figure growing distant even as he stood still.

The tendrils tightened, pulling you downward. You clawed at them, your nails splitting as you tried to free yourself. But they only tightened, dragging you into the floor that had become a gaping maw, teeth lining the edges of the pit.

As you sank, Gojo and Nanami stood above you, unmoving. Their faces blurred together, features melding and twisting until they became something monstrous. Gojo’s laughter echoed, sharp and cruel, as Nanami’s voice droned in an endless loop:

“You should’ve told the truth.”

The last thing you saw before the darkness swallowed you whole was the faint ripple of movement beneath your skin, something inside you fighting against the pull. But even that wasn’t going to be enough.

You woke gasping, your hand clutching your stomach as though to protect the life within. The room was quiet, the shadows still. But their voices lingered, whispering accusations in the corners of your mind.

Sukuna was always there in an instant, holding you as you fought through the panic attack. He rubbed circles on your back and forced you to count and breathe.

A/N: So, mystery hunk (™) is officially in the chat, and yes, he’s soft for our girl in his own chaotic way. Also, the part about Nanami reading Camus? That wasn’t just for flavor text—yes, I went there. If you’ve ever wanted to cry about The Myth of Sisyphus and think about how life is just a series of rolling boulders uphill, congratulations—this chapter’s for you! What do you think Sukuna’s Ryo-side would say to Nanami’s Sisyphus-side? Also, people who are grumbling about Sukuna being our guy, I have my reasons; hear me out: Gojo and Nanami are both special grades in this fic, so you need someone stronk who can proteck and attack you/for you. I will write more fics in the future where you'll have your fav guys as your saviors, so in the meantime, if you have ideas or just want to yell at me, send them on my asks. I’m curious: do you think Gojo’s breakdown was justified, or was he being selfish again? Let’s talk about it! Oh, and if you had to wrestle a goat, which JJK character would you pick to help you? (Sukuna’s banned. Too OP.)

Also this is your manz -

And this is what you married -

Even the stable one is weird -

Next Chapter - Will try for Monday

All Works Masterlist

Tag-list = @lady-of-blossoms @stargirl-mayaa @dark-agate @tqd4455 @roscpctals99 @sxlfcxst @se-phi-roth @austisticfreak @helloxkittylo @itoshi-r @kodzukensworld @revolvinggeto @luringfantasy

Disclaimer - I found these memes randomly on Pinterest, so lmk the creators if you know so that I can tag them.

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lokissweater · 4 months ago

Text

you noticed me ⚾︎

{mlb!megumi fushiguro x f!reader}

summary: megumi fushiguro is one of the best players on the major league baseball team, and when you finally spot him on the big screen after practically dozing off at every game you went to with your girl friend? you were absolutely IN LOVE, but IN DENIAL that he could ever like you back… but he does, and bad.

warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, NASTY NASTY MEGUMI, oral sex, SMUT, pussy eating in locker rooms HEH, mentions of drinking but like tiny just once, reader is oblivious to the way megumi wants her, DOMINANT AF MEGUMI PHEWW, cursing, flufffff!!, barely any angst, DIRTY TALK, pet names, aged up characters.

word count: 12.1k (IK IM SORRY ITS A CUTE ONE THO)

authors note: you GUYSSSS i love megumi fushiguro i want him so bad and i LOOVEEE this fic!! i worked like a little worker bee for days and i really hope it makes you guys happy :] MWAH!!

want more? you can find my mlb!megumi fushiguro masterlist here!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・

megumi fushiguro was the hottest baseball player you had ever seen in your life.

and you didn’t even like baseball to begin with, dozing off at every game your girl friend dragged you to because her boyfriend was on the major league team— but the one time you decided to open your eyes and pay attention to the big giant screen in front of you?

there he was in all of his emo glory.

number eighteen.

focused, half lidded eyes resembling borderline boredom as he waited for the pitcher to throw, his forehead glistening with sweat, flushed red cheeks, and his jet black hair slightly peeking over his forehead from underneath his baseball cap.

“my god—” your hand flew and you gripped your girl friends arm tightly, your jaw to the fucking floor as your eyes were gorilla glued to the screen, her quirking a curious eyebrow at you as she matched your frantic nature.

“what? what is it? who did you see? whats happ—”

you pointed your finger up at the screen, him swinging and hitting a fucking grand slam as he proceeded to get four runs with one hit, the one thing you knew about baseball besides a home run.

“that’s a— that’s a grand slam!” you pointed frantically, probably looking absolutely insane as you stood and screamed your fucking head off.

your girl friend laughed loudly, “you like fushiguro? megumi fushiguro?”

you jumped up and down, your girlfriend astonished and laughing as this was the first time she’d ever seen you energetic at a baseball game.

“he’s friends with yuji!” she yelled over the hollering of the crowd. “we can go to their locker room after and you can say hi! i heard he’s kind of mean though—”

“no!” you spun around, eyes wide and terrified. “i already know he’ll eat me alive then! i’m a loser, i can’t talk to him i don’t have game i—”

she rolled her eyes. “you’ll be fine—”

“no i can’t!” you shook your head frantically. “please he looks like the type to love bomb me and then leave me i don’t think i can handle that—”

she snorted. “are you sure?!”

you hesitated for a moment, biting your bottom lip as your eyes trailed back over to the screen, seeing megumi breathing a little heavy from running the field, his hands on his hips as he scanned the arena.

you sighed through your nose. “yeah i’m sure!”

“suit yourself!”

a year. a year you spent continuing to tag along with your girl friend to their games, staring lovesick and sad at the big screen over megumi, and standing outside far far away from the locker room once they scored another big win and not going in like you used to, waiting for your girl friend to finish up speaking to her boyfriend as you tried your best to avoid the chance of running into megumi.

she finally emerged from the locker rooms one day, a knowing smirk on her face.

“i told yuji.”

you blinked. “told him what?”

“that you like fushiguro.”

“no!” you gasped, a hand flying and smacking over your mouth. “please no im about to experience the biggest heartbreak of my life—”

“oh relax!” she grabbed your arm and practically dragged you towards the locker room doors. “he’s not even here megumi already left, but yuji wants to talk to you.”

“why?!” you exclaimed. “to let me down easy? to tell me he’s sorry on his behalf—”

your girl friend just about threw you in and went in after you as you stumbled, eyes blown wide as the air became humid and heavy, several of the players lounging about and refreshing themselves as the sound of lockers slamming shut echoed through the space— deep, broad voices laughing filling the room as yuji spotted you, his eyes friendly and polite. “y/n!”

you relaxed and smiled, “hi! you guys played really well today!”

“megumi also played really well today.”

“oh my god—” you groaned, throwing your head back as you spun around, heading straight for the exit.

“wait wait!” he laughed loudly, jogging up to you. “sorry sorry.”

“what do you want with me..” you mumbled.

he gave you a half smile. “i wanted to tell you that megumi’s weird.”

you snorted, “elaborate please.”

yuji threw an arm around your girl friend before continuing.

“you know we support your feelings and what you want…” he began.

your eyes narrowed. “why are you guys talking to me like you’re my parents—”

“but—” yuji cut you off. “i’m just gonna be straight with you. i’ve never ever seen megumi interact with anyone, let alone another woman, besides the team.”

“i don’t think i’ve ever seen him have a proper conversation with anyone on the team besides you actually…” your girl friend muttered to yuji.

yuji winced. “yeah…” he turned back to you. “back when megumi and i first got signed, he was really popular and a lot of girls would come up to him after games for his number or just to talk to him.”

“well obviously he’s a greek god,” you grumbled. “this is hurting me man get to the point.”

he sighed. “he basically scared all of them off. didn’t give a single one a chance and was kinda mean... he would either ignore them or straight up just tell them he wasn’t interested without them even being able to get a word in.”

you stared blankly.

“i tried to tell him that he needs to be nicer but he’s just not interested.”

you kept staring.

“that’s why i’m telling you this because we don’t want you to get hurt and i feel like if you try and talk to him he’s gonna be a dick and it might…” yuji looked at you sadly. “it might be a lost cause.”

you blinked.

“y/n?”

“that’s fine!” you squeaked, hands tight at your sides. “a part of me already knew. i read about it in an article, and i’ve seen his interviews.”

your girl friend looked at you with concern filled eyes. “are you okay?”

“yeah!” you waved them off. “why wouldn’t i be?”

“because your eyes are red.”

“ppffttt!” you blew out. “i’m fine! seriously. i never intended to talk to him anyways, i’m too much of a scaredy cat.”

you extended your arms out and engulfed the both of them, squeezing tight. “thank you guys for telling me though, i appreciate it.”

“y/n…” yuji trailed off.

“i’m gonna take off though, i’ll see you guys later, okay?” you waved and opened the door. “love you!”

and you scrammed, your heart in a million pieces.

it’s not like you didn’t already know. you knew, so why were you sad? why did you feel like you just got ran over by a double decker bus? why did you pathetically feel so sad?

this was the reality. you never stood a chance.

so why were you crying?

you continued walking down the hall and towards the main exit, utterly embarrassed at your sobbing and trying your best to hide it as you navigated through several groups of people, your vision entirely blurry as you were basically drowning in your tears.

you had barely escaped the crowd when you spotted a little secluded area in the lobby, trudging over pathetically and plopping down on the coushy seat as you wiped your cheeks, staring at the wall in front of you— a huge glass casing proudly decorated with the teams trophies and awards, gigantic portraits of the players on the team adorning the walls with megumi’s serious beautiful framed face right in front of you just making you feel worse.

you already knew, but regardless of megumi’s stand off ish personality, you liked it. you had curiously browsed his interviews and quotes in articles, and you always laughed at his responses, him almost every time offending the staff without even trying or knowing, and you found it so so funny, it only making you admire him and want to get to know him even more, even if it was just a friendship.

megumi fushiguro was one of the best players on the team in history, and as you closed your eyes, silent pathetic tears still slipping down your cheeks?

he never felt so out of reach.

“here.”

your eyes opened, but you literally could not see jack shit as your tears were still blurring your line of sight, you completely and utterly mortified that a stranger caught you sobbing as you wiped your face quickly in response.

“put on my sunglasses if you don’t want people to see you crying.”

the voice was gruff and lazy, but you could not care less as you took the sunglasses and settled them over your eyes, the lenses so freaking dark that you couldn’t see a single thing— your sight worse than before.

but it relieved you, as you figured no one could see your bloodshot eyes and therefore thankfully not notice you losing your mind over something so stupid.

“thank you,” you mumbled. “sorry.”

“for what.”

you felt the plush of the bench shift next to you, figuring that the stranger man sat beside you as you refused to look in their direction out of embarrassment.

not that you could even see in the first place.

“for looking like a loser.”

the stranger man snorted. “s’fine.”

you wiped your nose with your sleeve, sniffling.

“how do you see in these?” you muttered softly. “they’re making me claustrophobic i can’t see a thing.”

“that’s the point,” he hums.

“how come?”

“i get migraines everyday. they help.”

“oh i see.” you responded softly. “have you ever run into a wall because of them?”

you hear him huff out through his nose. “i did once, when i first got them.”

you giggled gently. “did you bleed?”

“no,” he spoke calmly. “i got a bump on my forehead.”

you snickered, “what? loserrr.”

you stood up and carefully tried to walk around a little, testing out how to guide yourself through the dark lenses and trying to be careful and not bump into a wall (which was literally impossible), your hands out, feeling around.

“jesus christ i’m just kidding now i feel bad. i think im gonna bump myself into a wall too so we can call it even.”

you couldn’t see, but the stranger man’s lips twitched at your comment.

“don’t do that.” he murmured. “sit back down.”

you listened and started making your way over, feeling him reach out and wrap his fingers around your wrist carefully and guide you to the bench, you plopping down on it once you felt it.

“thank you!” you responded sweetly. “…i’m actually glad i can’t see a thing right now.” you perked up, pushing the sunglasses back up over the bridge of your nose.

“why is that.”

“so i don’t have to look at megumi fushiguro’s big portrait in front of my face.”

the stranger man stopped.

“…why?”

“because he indirectly broke my heart.”

you heard a little audible laugh, and you smiled to yourself.

at least someone is having fun right now.

“how did he indirectly break your heart?”

“my girl friend’s boyfriend is yuji itadori. she spilled the beans against my will about how i have a crush on him, and yuji told me that he’s mean and he’ll basically bite my head off and tell me to scram.”

“did he?”

“uh huh,” you nodded. “they were trying to let me down easy, but it’s not like i was gonna try and talk to him anyways. i’ve gone a year without saying anything i can go on and on and on.”

the stranger man hummed.

“he’s so cool though…” you murmured, dazed. “he’s gonna be a hard one to forget about.”

“why do you like him?”

“i feel like im being interrogated,” you giggled.

you felt the stranger man lean back against the wall. “sorry, just curious.”

you copied him and crossed your arms, “mmm… because he’s really good at what he does. i admire that most of all.”

you tilted your head. “everyone berates him for being mean but i like that he’s supposedly mean for some reason…. he’s just serious about his profession and he doesn’t want to waste time. he’s also the hottest man i’ve ever seen so that definitely helps.”

the stranger man laughed a little.

“i don’t know,” you sighed sadly. “maybe i’m just demented. i am demented.”

“if yuji itadori told you the exact opposite about him, would that have encouraged you to go up to him?”

you sat in thought for a moment, but ultimately shook your head. “no. it’s too embarrassing for me and i’m also a big fat wuss so…”

you slid your fingers underneath the lenses and rubbed your stinging sore eyes. “maybe in the next life if i’m lucky, ill be reincarnated as a cool baseball man too and i won’t have to deal with this shit.”

“cool baseball man.” he repeated, tone seemingly amused.

“yup.”

the stranger man sighed. “is this why i found you crying?”

“maayybeee?” you dragged out shyly, your cheeks flushing.

it was silent for a moment, your vision completely black but his on your rosy cheeks, oddly staring that if you could see right now, you’d probably call him a creep.

“i’m sorry i made you cry.”

you jumped back.

“no not you!” you huffed. “have you not been paying attention? catch up man—”

you felt a shadow reach up and tug the sunglasses slightly away from your face, your eyes constricting against the bright lights of the hall as they tried to adjust.

and when they did?

megumi fushiguro was sitting right next to you, a tiny smile on his face dressed in all black with his teams baseball cap on.

your eyes widened dramatically and you slapped both hands over your mouth, beyond horrified as everything you had thought you were telling a stranger about him, you were telling him directly, your brain short circuiting and your body heating up like a fucking hot flash.

“oh my god i’m so sorry!” your voice was muffled, you shaking your head in absolute denial.

you immediately sprung up and grabbed your purse, slowly backing up further and further away from him.

his smile widened.

oh my god.

megumi fushiguro was smiling, a sight you’ve never ever seen during his games, practices, interviews, articles, or magazines as your cheeks increased in shade— wanting to mentally take a picture and remember forever as you knew you’d probably never see him smile like that again.

but he was smiling.

“pretend i don’t exist!” you stammered, “pretend this never happened i’m sorry this is so embarrassing keep winning your games okay and i’ll keep being an idiot far far away from you—”

“where are you going?” he chuckled lowly.

“—you’ll never see me again i’m going home and i’m going on lockdown—”

he laughed through his nose, his lips in an amused smile.

“you don’t have to do that.”

“yes i do—”

“you don’t have to forget me either.”

“that i definitely do—”

you were halfway out of the main entrance doors.

“hold on y/n—”

megumi stood, his long legs walking over to you and you froze.

y/n?

you slowly turned around, your face pale and afraid.

“how do you know my name?” you asked softly.

“your best friend is dating yuji, is she not.”

you nodded, eyes blank.

“i’ve been seeing you inside the locker room after our games for like… two years.” megumi mumbled.

oh.

oh that’s right.

you didn’t actually notice megumi until last year, when you decided to finally open your eyes for once during a game and that’s how you spotted him for the first time on the big screen in front of you, in all of his gorgeous handsome entity.

“oh.”

he raised a hand and pressed his index finger to your forehead, nudging you softly.

“dummy.”

“s-sorry..” you gave him a wobbly bashful smile, your cheeks pinky as you rubbed your red eyes.

his eyes slightly softened and he shook his head. “s’fine.”

megumi continued to stare at you, a stone cold face that always seemed to scare off the teams entire fan base, but only made you feel numb and giddy all over every single time.

you smiled wider then, and megumi’s lips twitched.

cute.

“i’m— i’m gonna go now.”

“do you have a ride home?”

you stopped. “no i was just gonna call an uber—”

he shook his head and walked past you, his shoulder brushing gently with yours with his hands stuffed in his pockets as you turned and stared at him.

he paused and looked over his shoulder.

“you coming?”

your eyes widened. “coming? w—where?”

he rolled his eyes. “i’m taking you home.”

“no!” you shot your hands out. “it’s okay! really! thank you thank you i appreciate it but—”

he stared lazily.

“come.”

you pressed your lips into a thin line and tipped your head down, taking tiny painful steps as you followed after him to the parking lot.

megumi led you from the public parking area to a secluded section around the back of the arena, one you assumed was for players and crew members only as you nervously gnawed on your bottom lip, feeling absolutely sick.

you both continued to walk down until you arrived to a private parking garage, megumi slipping out his keys from the pocket of his hoodie as you approached a shiny black luxurious car sitting neatly in a spot.

his car was really fucking nice, and you figured so being as he was one of the most popular players and probably had more than enough money in the bank— your fingers trembling as you gripped the passenger side door, settling yourself inside his plush cool leather seats and all black interior.

megumi pressed the ‘start’ button and his engine roared to life, the motor echoing through the structure as you clumsily tried to put on your seatbelt, your cheeks growing pinker with each passing second that you just couldn’t get the stupid damn thing to— click—

he reached over across the console and took the seatbelt from you, pulling it over your body and clicking it secure without a word.

“thank you.” you said softly, eyes trained to your lap.

megumi gave you a small nod and backed out of his parking space, driving around a couple of rows before making his way out with the night air softly breezing through your hair as he drove, his dash illuminated with blue lines that ran smoothly across.

“can you put your address in—”

“oh yeah!” you jumped. “sorry—”

you reached over and tapped in your address on his big touch screen, watching the way the gps registered the location and gave him the estimated time of arrival.

forty fucking minutes.

“megumi..”

his eyes looked over at you for a second before turning back to the road.

“hm?”

“i live kinda far from here and i don’t want you to drive the opposite way from where you live.”

you leaned a little, eyebrows pinched. “i can take an uber seriously, this is too much trouble i—”

“you’re already in my car.” he deadpanned.

“i’ll jump out.”

he pursed his lips, trying to suppress a smile.

“i have child lock on.”

“child lock?!” you gawked. “is this what you think of me?”

“you’re a little helpless… and you’re a crybaby.” he mumbled. “child lock stays on.”

you giggled after, your eyes shining and filled with mushy feelings for him as you nodded. “you’re probably right.”

he looked over at you then, and he smiled, softly.

“what do you do?”

you fidgeted. “h—huh?”

“do you um…” he ran his thumb over the top of his gear shift. “do you work? do you go to school?”

he’s asking you?

“i go to school!” you responded shyly but kind. “i go to a college that’s about fifteen minutes from your stadium. i usually go and meet up with my best friend after class if there’s a game.”

he hummed. “are you a big baseball person?”

you grimaced.

do you lie? do you tell the truth? do you roll down his window and attempt to jump out of the car that way?

you played with a strand of your hair. “i— i um—”

he raised an eyebrow.

“i— don’t?”

he cocked his head. “you don’t?”

you shook your head no, completely ashamed of who you are as a person as you covered your eyes.

“i knoww i suuucckkk,” you whined. “the only things i know about baseball are home runs and grand slams— which you did!”

you pointed at him excitedly. “last year! i remember you hit a grand slam! i got so excited that for once i knew what the fuck was going on and why everyone was going crazy…”

you fiddled with your fingers nervously, your eyes trained to the road. “i felt so included.”

he chuckled, and unexpectedly, reached over and gently ruffled your hair.

you then stared at him as he did so, doe eyes wide and cheeks pink.

megumi was truly just beautiful— his smooth face that didn’t have a single blemish on his skin shining under the moonlight, his black spiky hair peeking from under his cap that you had no doubt in your mind was soft and velvety.

you hated that you’d probably do anything for that man.

“i’m sorry i made you cry,” he repeated, you recognizing his words from before.

your eyebrows furrowed.

he was still thinking about that?

you shook your head furiously, “you didn’t! i swear it’s okay. i’m just crazy.”

he huffed out a laugh.

megumi thought you were odd, but in a good way. he thought everything you did was a little funny, as you were jumpy and clumsy and a crybaby and helpless, but he also took note of how polite you were. he noticed how considerate you were of him even though you were really upset, and you were kind of sweet… really sweet actually, your personality something that was totally different from the usual girls that came up to him.

well, the usual girls that used to come up to him back when he first started.

megumi pulled into your driveway and shifted the gear into park, the doors automatically unlocking.

you opened the door and stepped out before leaning down and peeking your head in.

“thank you for the ride!” you said sweetly, a cute smile on your face. “i’m sorry you had to listen to my confession against your will.”

he shook his head. “it’s alright.”

you went in to close the door.

“y/n.”

you leaned back down, “yeah?”

“are you gonna stop coming to our games?”

you gnawed at the inside of your cheek, your eyes darting around the interior of his car nervously.

“i— i don’t think so.”

“good.”

megumi watched you close his door and walk back a bit, him shifting his gear into reverse as the corners of his lips turned a tiny bit upwards.

“i’ll see you then.”

as you watched him pull out and drive away, his engine roaring down the street, you could not stop or simmer down the way your heart raced against your chest, so much so that you were afraid it was going to burst through your chest and literally kill you.

the next time you went to a game, you hadn’t told your close girl friend yet as she led you through the crowd and down to the v.i.p. lower level seats like always, a kind courtesy of yuji’s that he did whenever he could.

as you watched, you embarrassingly spotted megumi almost the minute you arrived, stars and hearts in your eyes as you watched him do his thing and work magic through the field with his absolutely insane batting, strong and purposeful as he barked orders or observed the opposing team for leads.

once his and the opposing team switched sides, megumi looked up as he jogged, his eyes seemingly scanning the v.i.p. front sections until he spotted you.

he raised a hand and gave you a little wave, and your eyes widened as you timidly, hesitantly, gave him one in return— your cheeks turning pink.

“who are you waving at?”

your girl friend pressed a cheek against yours and looked.

“who is- fushiguro?!”

you looked at her sheepishly.

as you recounted the story to her, her eyes bulging out of her sockets and screaming her head off every two seconds, her head snapped to the field.

“i have to tell yuji—”

“no!” you gripped her shoulders. “it’s literally nothing! he drove me home and he probably just feels bad for me.”

“megumi isn’t the type to make a crying girl feel better or drive her home.”

“it’s because he knows that we know yuji.”

“mm i don’t think so..” she scowled, crossing her arms in eventual defeat as she stared straight ahead.

that’s how it went for about a month.

you would come to their games, megumi would wave at you from the field or you would catch his attention and wave at him, and you would briefly speak to him casually just after his games, your conversations with him usually lasting no more than three minutes as he was often pulled by his coach or a crew member.

but even though the conversations were short, they were really nice, and the both of you never seemed to notice the people around you wanting his attention until he physically had to get pulled away.

but you still refused to go inside the locker room, knowing that was surely the place where you had to talk to him for longer than three minutes. you were too scared, embarrassingly so as you bid your girl friend and yuji goodbye from just outside the door before leaving every time, completely unaware of the way megumi would stare expressionless at you from inside.

when your girl friend invited you to the team’s yearly banquet, you flat out said no, decision firm and unmoving as she begged you over and over and over again.

“please please you have to go! you can’t avoid megumi forever!”

“what is the purpose of me going though?” you sighed, shaking your head with a smile at the sight of her dramatically on her knees over you. “for you it makes sense because you’re with yuji but what’s the excuse for me? i’m not anybody’s plus one.”

“yes you are,” she got back up on her feet and wiggled her eyebrows, “you’re megumi’s plus one.”

“bye i wish,” you mumbled, plopping down on your bed.

“okay you’re my plus one, or yuji’s! so he has two plus ones!”

she walked over and sat down next to you, resting her head against your shoulder as she sighed. “please come. you don’t have to talk to megumi okay? fine. but just come with me, i’ll have a better time if you do.”

you gave her a silly smile and thought for a moment, her sad tone swaying you as you finally gave in.

“only if you swear you won’t force me to talk to him.”

she nodded eagerly.

“i swear!”

so you stood there, nervous and biting your thumb as you frantically looked around, dressed in a pretty black off the shoulder mermaid style gown with a high slit exposing your leg— fiddling with your styled hair as you waited and waited and waited for your girl friend to come back from the dessert table with yuji.

you hadn’t seen megumi yet as you were trying to keep on a look out, because the moment you did see him all dressed up? you were sure you were going to start pathetically bowing for him on your knees in front of all these people and end your social life forever.

finally, she came back and handed you a little pastry, you thanking her kindly and taking a small bite.

“wait no!” she gasped, turning her pastry around. “fuck, i got the wrong one. i meant to get the vanilla one this is coconut.”

“i can get it for you this time.” you smiled kindly, her looking at you gratefully as you patted her shoulder, making your way over to the dessert table.

your eyes lit up like stars at the sight of it, grand and luxurious as any kind of pastry you could ever possibly think of was present— neat and gourmet-like, each adorned with elegant toppings as multiple huge chocolate fountain stations ran from the sides.

“hi.”

you jumped and looked to your right, megumi standing there beside you with a bored expression, clad in a polished black button up and slacks, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

you gulped.

“h—hi.”

“i didn’t think you’d come.”

he lazily picked up a tiny slice of chocolate mousse cake and looked at it.

“i was dragged by my best friend,” you puffed out a laugh. “she said i was her and yuji’s plus one or something like that.”

he nodded, biting his cake slice and swallowing.

“you stopped coming inside the locker rooms.”

you faltered.

he noticed that?

“oh yeah! i just—” you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. “i’ve been really busy with school so i study right after…”

for some reason megumi eyed you carefully, and your cheeks grew pinker the more he blatantly stared at you as you fidgeted.

“are you—”

“fushiguro!”

you both turned your heads to the source, and you spotted an unfamiliar guy, one who you assumed was on the team with them, smiling enthusiastically and throwing a heavy arm around megumi’s shoulder.

“who’s this? i’ve never seen you talk to anyone besides us!”

megumi only spared him a nonchalant glance before he looked back over at the dessert table.

the unknown man extended a hand out to you, and megumi’s eyes snapped to it.

“hi! i’m takuma!”

you cheerfully took his hand. “y/n!”

“are you megumi’s girlfriend?”

you gawked, guilt and embarrassment already filling your body at the thought of megumi finding that comment uncomfortable and being uncomfortable because of you.

at his own banquet.

“n—no!” you shook your head, eyebrows pinched. “i came with my best friend and yuji.”

takuma unhooked his arm and let it rest beside him. “oh nice! you know yuji as well?”

you nodded, “mhm!”

the rest of the crowd began to take their seats for the awards ceremony segment, and the three of you walked over to your designated table by yuji and your best friend, who’s eyes widened at the sight of you next to megumi.

you all sat, and takuma pointed to the empty seat next to you.

“is anyone sitting here?”

“oh no!” you smiled politely. “it’s empty you can—”

“take mine ino.”

megumi pulled out the chair next to you and plopped down on it, scooting up. “it’s closer to the front.”

huh?

“o—oh!” takuma scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “okay! thanks fushiguro.”

he only nodded in response and stuck his face in his champagne glass, sipping.

and he was right. you watched as takuma navigated through the circular tables before sitting in a seat that was right smack dab in the front.

“that’s really nice of you megumi!” you chirped. “he has such a good view now!”

“mhm.”

your best friend smacked a hand to her forehead with a shake of her head, and you looked at her quizzically.

the awards ceremony was the most fun you’ve ever had, as you were over the moon for all of the players that were awarded prestigious titles and recognitions, and even more excited for yuji and megumi, the both of them combined taking award after award that by the time the event was done, your table was filled to the brim with frames, medals, and trophies.

your doe eyes glowed over megumi’s earnings, pride and admiration bubbling in your chest as you took in the result of his hard work, feeling like he was the most talented person you ever had the privilege of knowing.

he stared at your enamored look.

“you’re so cool, gumi..” you gushed, not even noticing the little nickname you gave him.

but he did.

“cool baseball man?” he responded softly, referencing your words from when you first met.

your eyes snapped to his and you gave him the shiniest smile, nodding quickly. “yeah! cool baseball man.”

megumi looked down at his awards, and after a couple of seconds, picked up a shiny gold medal hung on a baby blue striped lanyard, holding it out for you.

“here.”

your eyes traveled down.

“what?”

“for you.” he pushed the medal forward.

shock crossed your face, and you frantically shook your head, pushing the medal back to him. “no! no megumi that’s yours you earned it—”

megumi rolled his eyes and held on to the edges of the lanyard, effortlessly setting it over your head and around your neck, the medal clinking and twinkling against your chest.

“i have four others. it’s fine.”

“no but—”

he carded his thumbs underneath your hair and gently slid your hair out from beneath the lanyard, setting it delicately over your bare shoulders.

yuji and your best friends jaws were on the floor, but you didn’t notice, too busy ogling over the fact that megumi fushiguro was the kindest person you had ever met, utterly amazed that he selflessly gave you something so precious. you.

your gaze trailed down to the medal, and you softly touched it with the pads of your fingers.

“t—thank you gumi…”

his lips twitched.

you realized then that the music had started and the crowd had already dispersed to celebrate, some dancing in the center while others mingled on the sidelines or hogged the dessert table.

and you spotted your best friend with yuji, the both of them smiling adoringly at each other, laughing and dancing— something bashfully wished for yourself as you grinned softly at them.

megumi followed your gaze, and he huffed an amused small laugh through his nose.

“they met at a party didn’t they?”

you looked to him and nodded, “uh huh! i was with her. she was so scared to talk to him and i literally had to throw her in.”

he scratched his cheek. “i remember. i was there.”

your jaw dropped. “you were?!”

he nodded. “and i remember you too.”

you sat there in silence.

how long had megumi been around in your life without you knowing? how didn’t you ever freaking notice?

before you could press any further, megumi squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his fingers to his forehead in pain, groaning softly.

you jumped, “are you okay? what’s wrong?”

he shook his head. “migraine. the lights are fucking with me a little.”

“oh!” you frantically looked around the table and around him. “where are your sunglasses? the dark ones the ones you ran into a wall with!”

megumi snorted and shook his head again, eyes peeking at you a bit. “it’s fine. i left them at home.”

your eyebrows rose, “you left them?”

he nodded and dropped his hand, sitting up straight and trying to open his eyes fully to seem normal, but his lids only dropped again and his forehead fell to rest against the table.

“i’m sorry,” he mumbled. “just give me a minute.”

“don’t be sorry gumi…”

you figured the rest of the night was going to be like this, and if megumi stayed, he was going to end up dealing with the dull ache in his head for hours on end and not enjoy his banquet.

but you wanted him to enjoy it. this was his night, and you didn’t want him to spend it pissed off and writhing in pain.

“do you want to leave?”

he turned his head to the side and looked at you.

“we can um—” you fiddled with the medal around your neck. “we can go outside? or we can go for ice cream…”

you tilted your head to the side cutely, and you were oblivious to the way megumi’s cheeks went a little pink at the sight.

“ill pay though!” you smiled sweetly. “it’s the least i can do for the medal you gave me.”

he gave you an endearing half smile and nodded.

your eyes lit up. “really?! okay!— wait let me just say bye to my best friend and let her know—”

you quickly stood and walked over to the dance floor, megumi watching after you before picking up his black blazer and holding it underneath an arm, wondering how the fuck he was gonna pick up all of his awards himself.

“y/n!” your best friend gushed. “you’ve been talking to megumi for hours what the fuck is going on—”

you laughed. “nothing! it was nothing but i’m gonna go get ice cream with him!”

“what?!” her and yuji said in unison.

“did he ask you?” yuji pushed.

“no!” your eyes narrowed. “of course not i’m a big fat loser why would he? i invited him because he has a migraine so—”

your best friend hummed, a smirk on her face. “oh i see... use protection.”

“huh?!” your jaw dropped. “no! that’s not—”

“y/n!”

you turned and saw takuma walk over to you, a big smile on his face. “you enjoying the banquet?”

“oh yes! it’s really great!” you smiled kindly. “the dessert table is absolutely insane.”

“right?!” takuma stepped closer to you. “they go all out every year, it’s what everyone looks forward to.”

“i can definitely see why!”

he chuckled and nodded but then turned to you, speaking quieter. “listen um… i was wondering if you were uh— well if you wanted to dance? with me? y’know… maybe get to know each other better and then—”

yuji shoved his lips to your best friends ear.

“he’s stealing megumi’s girl.”

“i know!” she whispered harshly. “what the fuck do we do—”

“i don’t know!”

“well call megumi over—”

suddenly, a tall broad figure walked in between you and takuma, your vision blocked by his back.

“sorry ino,” megumi stepped to the side a little and placed a hand on the small of your back, ushering you towards the exit. “we were just leaving.”

yuji and your best friend gave each other a low high five before their eyes darted around, putting on false ignorance.

“sorry!— it was nice meeting you takuma!” you called from over your shoulder before the both of you stepped out of the venue and into the cool night air.

megumi’s car was parked right out front, him unlocking the doors with a button just like he had done the last time, you noticing how all of his awards were set neatly in the back seat.

“oh i’m sorry gumi! did you carry these over by yourself? i was gonna help you—”

you sat yourself on his passenger side seat, the leather creaking with every movement you made.

he shook his head. “i had my publicist team do it. it’s fine.”

“oh okay…” you mumbled, still feeling a little guilty that you didn’t help him.

you went to reach for your seatbelt when megumi’s arm flew in front of you and grabbed the strap, pulling it over your frame and clicking it securely before his hands wrapped back around the steering wheel, just like he had done a month prior.

you couldn’t make out his expression, as it was blank and stone-like and not a word was coming out of his mouth as he backed out from the parking space, but you smiled at him cutely nonetheless and thanked him.

the nearest ice cream shop was literally down the road from the venue, and the drive took less than three minutes before megumi pulled in and parallel parked on the side of the street.

you both stepped out and walked inside, the shop colorful and vibrant as what looked like twenty different assortments of ice cream were on display, your eyes launching across each flavor excitedly.

“i haven’t had ice cream in a fat minute…” you murmured as you pressed your hands against the glass.

“me neither.”

“which flavor do you want megumi?” you asked him sweetly, your eyes still glued to the flavors that it made him chuckle.

“um…” he stepped forward and scanned the different colors. “i’ll take whatever you get.”

you looked at him and your eyebrows softened, “are you sure? what if you don’t like it?”

the corner’s of his lips turned upward, the sight making your heart skip a beat.

“it’s okay. i trust you.”

you ended up getting your all time favorite flavor that you never skip— cake batter, one that tastes different depending on who’s palette it is, and something you anxiously thought over as you gnawed on your bottom lip and stared, waiting for him to try it as you both sat on a park bench not too far from the shop.

“why do you look like you’re about to cry.” he snickered lowly.

your eyes snapped to his and you giggled. “i might if you don’t like what i picked out.” you plopped a little spoonful in your mouth, the cold ice cream melting and spreading over your tongue as you swallowed. “cake batter is a hit or miss for different people…”

he hummed, “how come?”

“it’s either too sweet or just nasty.”

“i have a sweet tooth.”

your eyes lit up, “so do i! i’m a big sweets person. i love love desserts and chocolate and ice cream… but i’m not the biggest fan of candy.”

“you’re not?”

“i love candy but not how i love sweets… and i wouldn’t randomly pick it out like at the store because i wanted to. most likely i would get a cookie.”

megumi liked how much you talked.

“have you always had a sweet tooth?” he pressed on, looking at his ice cream cup.

you nodded. “have you?”

“not really,” he shook his head. “i didn’t pick it up until i met—” he stopped. “…my dad.”

met his dad?

megumi spotted your confusion and continued.

“my actual dad disappeared. dunno where he’s at. all i’ve heard is that he had a bad gambling addiction so i’m guessing it had something to do with that.”

your eyes softened.

“gojo is kind of like my dad…” he mumbled. “he’s supported my sister and i financially ever since i was maybe five or six.”

“you have a sister?” you murmured, eyes big.

he nodded. “i do.”

he scooped a bit of cake batter ice cream up with his spoon and plopped it into his mouth, smiling softly. “gojo gave me a sweet tooth. he can’t go a day without it.”

you’d never heard megumi open up so much before, and you felt incredibly lucky and special to be the one to hear about his family and share a precious moment with him over eating ice cream, something you wanted to treat delicately and remember for as long as you lived.

“do you like it?” you asked softly, gesturing to his cup.

“i love it.”

you beamed, and he took in your cute smile for a minute as you ate some more on your end.

“i’m sorry about your actual dad… but i’m glad you and your sister got the support you needed when you were young.”

he nodded.

“did he encourage you to do baseball? or was it you?”

“he did initially.” he shook his head. “he was annoying at first, was a cheerleader at every game and was so loud.”

you giggled.

“but i grew to like it… and that’s what i wanted to do for a career. if it wasn’t for gojo’s funding i wouldn’t have been able to.”

you hummed, savoring the ice cream a bit before swallowing. “that’s really nice, gumi. i’m really happy you got the opportunity to grow your skill out like that…” you swirled the ice cream around your cup with your spoon. “what you have is a solid gift, and i would hate to see it not get the recognition it deserves when you’ve worked so hard to make it what it is now.”

you looked at him. “so i’m really, really glad that it does get it.”

megumi stared at you, face blank and a scoop of yet to be eaten ice cream on his spoon, his cheeks growing hot.

“i don’t know why you think so highly of me.” he murmured.

everyone thinks he’s rude.

your eyebrows furrowed. “i don’t think megumi, i know. you’re not a mean person, you’re honest and serious about the important things in your life. and if the medal around my neck that you gave me selflessly doesn’t tell you otherwise? i might have to kill you.”

he laughed, loud, his eyes sparkling. “you might?”

you bit your lip to refrain yourself from freaking out over his smooth laughter. “i might.”

you subconsciously rubbed your hands over your chilling arms then and megumi eyed it before he put his cup down, reaching next to him for his blazer and opening it up as he gently placed it over your shoulders.

you looked at him like he was the world then, doe eyes big and round and shimmering, and megumi felt like he could do anything with that look as long as it came from you— a permanent red tint on his cheeks that was entirely your doing.

“thank you..” you mumbled shyly, your eyes glued to your now empty cup of ice cream on the bench as you clutched the sides of his blazer, the smell of him wafting in your nose that made you absolutely weak.

megumi timidly, slowly, reached up and moved a strand of hair from your eyes then, and you looked up.

“pretty…” he murmured, dazed even.

his hand fell and landed gently on your exposed thigh from the slit of your dress, but instead of moving it, he let it stay there, his hand smoothing over your plush soft skin as he was completely entranced by your heavenly face, his body pulling his lips closer to yours as megumi’s breath quickened with absolute need the higher up his hand trailed up your yummy thigh.

you couldn’t say a word, he practically didn’t let you as his lips pressed delicately and timidly against your plush ones, his mouth moving so slowly and his tongue parting your wet lips for the purpose of devouring more of you, all while his fingertips reached and felt the side straps of your panties— the material alone making him erratic and desperate while his other hand gripped your waist tightly.

your mouths moved faster now, the sounds of wet smacking and lips separating to reconnect with more greed than before muffling your ears as he breathed heavily through his nose, his eyebrows pinched together in pent up everything as he finally had you with him after months of you avoiding him.

and then you pulled away with a wet pop.

“i—i’m sorry!” you covered your mouth. “i didn’t mean to kiss you!—”

what?

megumi’s eyebrows furrowed, both of your chests heaving as his cheeks and lips were blushed red.

he shook his head, “no i kissed you—”

“don’t cover for me gumiii,” your shoulders slumped, your brain so in denial that he could ever like you back that it tricked you into thinking you were the one kissing and all over him. “fuck i’m sorry… that was so disrespectful and— and weird of me and i—”

megumi’s hands slipped away from your body and he shook his head, his eyes dead locked on yours with his eyebrows pinched together. “y/n no you’re not understanding—”

“i’m the biggest creep on the planet man i understand if you don’t ever want to speak to me again—” you covered your face and leaned forward.

megumi stared at you astonishingly as he listened to you ramble apologies and dramatic insults for yourself continuously, his shoulders slowly relaxing and his lips turning into a soft knowing smile, your random speech starting to make absolutely no sense at all and his heart aching at the fact of how naive you were.

“y/n.”

you stopped. “what.”

he reached over and pulled your hands away from your face. “you’re helpless, you know that?”

“helpless and a creep.”

he laughed and shook his head. “stop it.”

he stood and offered his hand out for you.

“it’s getting late, i’m driving you home.”

megumi decided he would properly speak to you about it the next time he saw you… except he didn’t.

you started avoiding him like the plague again, horrendously horrified about what you believed you had done, thinking that it was better if you stayed away from him and fulfilled your initial task of forgetting him, no matter how much it hurt you.

you didn’t want megumi to ever be uncomfortable or experience what you believed he experienced with you. he didn’t deserve that. he didn’t deserve a pathetic little fan girl that never left him alone and hindered his work on the field, even though you wished so badly you could see him again, as the taste of his lips and mouth never left your fuzzy mind.

you kissed megumi fushiguro.

“oh my god y/n, you’re so stupid.”

“no i’m not! do you really believe megumi could ever like me back? no! absolutely not. i kissed him and i fucked up and that’s it. i’m staying away from him.”

your best friend ran her fingers through her hair and almost tore a chunk out in frustration. “it sounds like he kissed you! he had his hand on your thigh—”

“that was for stability! he—”

“no it was to feel you up!”

you shook your head side to side with your arms crossed. “nope nope nope nope—”

“y/nnnn!”

as for megumi, the next game he had he looked for you while on the field like he always did, looking forward to seeing your precious face and giving you a little wave… except he couldn’t find you. after the game, he went around the stadium and towards the locker room, inside and back out, the parking lot, his parking lot—

and he couldn’t find you.

this went on for a full three weeks of game after game nearly every day him doing the same exact thing— him getting increasingly more confused and a bit upset at your disappearance, going as far as to staying hours after his games still in his sweaty baseball uniform and cap with hopes that you’ll turn up.

except you never did.

and at the end of the third week, he had had enough.

“oh hey megumi!” your best friend greeted him, her hand fixing around yuji’s hair in the locker room after a game.

“hi.”

he stood there and said nothing, and your best friend eyed him skeptically. “…yes?”

megumi shifted awkwardly. “have you um… have you seen y/n?”

she sucked in a breath. “uh yeah. i saw her this morning.”

“this morning?” his eyes narrowed. “is she okay? why hasn’t she been coming to our games with you?”

“because—” she stammered. “well because—”

“is it our place to say?” yuji muttered.

“is it our place to know?” she whispered back harshly.

“i don’t know!”

“let’s just tell him!”

“but what if!—”

megumi rolled his eyes and huffed. “nevermind. please tell her to come tomorrow, i need to talk to her.”

your best friend gulped and nodded, both her and yuji watching the way he walked away and snatched his cap off, throwing it inside his locker and slamming it shut with his foot before picking up his duffel bag and leaving, not even bothering to change out of his dirt covered uniform.

“i’ve never seen him so stressed,” yuji commented.

“it’s because he likes her and she’s being an idiot…” your best friend sighed sadly.

so when she came to you the next day and told you megumi needed to speak to you, she amplified how upset he was to get you to feel bad and feel the urgent need to come to the game tonight, which you of course did.

and you were worried. so so worried and scared that he was finally going to tell you off for kissing him, to tell you that you sucked and that he never ever wanted to see you again in his life and that you were a disgusting human being—

but the roar of the crowd pulled you from your thoughts, the team winning once again as many began to pack their things and take their leave. you were completely and utterly shitting yourself, petrified and already heartbroken over the fact that megumi was officially going to cut you off as a friend when you hadn’t even had the chance to try and win him over yet.

and the way he played on the field tonight was way more aggressive than normal. he was louder, meaner, and didn’t take his eyes away from the ball or his opponents as he nearly got into a fight with another player, yuji and a few others needing to pull megumi apart and set him aside to cool off— the cameras and reporters having a field day in regards to him.

and that bothered you like nothing else. why the hell were they so excited over him getting angry? to amplify the brand that he upholds as the teams meanest player? as if they’ve never had a bad day a day in their lives? what was the point?

and it was all because of you, you realized.

you made him upset.

you covered your face with your hands and groaned, feeling like you wanted to cry.

“y/n…” your best friend patted your back. “it’ll be fine… he just needs to talk to you! you don’t even know what it’s about.”

“i can take a wild guess.”

she looked at you worriedly before picking up her things. “whenever you’re ready babe… i think he’s in the locker rooms by now.”

she left you there to gather yourself, and you sat there for a couple of more minutes before finally getting up and making your way to the locker rooms.

most of the fans had cleared out by now, and the sun was beginning to set as you passed and squeezed through crew members and news reporters, gnawing at your bottom lip as you turned a corner and spotted the locker room, many of the players already leaving.

just as you had reached your hand up to open the door, a firm voice called out to you.

“y/n.”

you froze, retracting your hand as you turned to look.

megumi stood there at the end of the hall, his baseball uniform still on and his cap dangling from his belt loop, hands in tight fists with his chest rising and falling, an agitated look on his face that you had never seen before.

“h—hi-”

“are you trying to forget me? is that what’s going on?”

your eyebrows furrowed.

“what?”

megumi took stride full steps towards you. “you finally talk to me, you confess to me, you disappear for a month, i wait for you, you finally show up at the banquet looking like the most beautiful woman i’ve ever seen in my fucking life—”

he stopped in front of you. “takuma tries to steal you from me, i get pissed off, i fall for you at the park, i kiss you—“ he threw his arms up. “and you disappear again!”

your eyes bulge out of their sockets.

fall?

“you what?—”

“so i’m asking you again,” megumi bent his knees to look at you at eye level, his hands coming up to cup your pink cheeks and his face so close to yours you can make out the exact color of his eyes.

“are you trying to forget me? like you said you would?”

you fidgeted.

“i— i was doing it for you—”

“why for me? i never said—”

the feeling of his big hands on your cheeks was making your heart do backflips and trick shots as your wide doe eyes looked at him.

“because when i kissed you i made you uncomfortable and i don’t ever want you to be so i thought it’d be best if i left you alone—”

“okay let’s fix that right now,” his hands tightened slightly around your cheeks and he readjusted his footing, knees still bent. “i kissed you. if anything i should be the one worried if i made you uncomfortable because i put my hand on your thigh like that and for that i’m sorry.”

“no but—”

“yes y/n. i kissed you because you’re polite and you’re sweet and you’re funny, and you don’t see me as rude like everybody else does. and even though you’re naive and helpless sometimes, i like that you are. i like you.”

“but you’re megumi fushiguro…” you squeaked.

“so?”

“and i’m a loser.”

he laughed so cutely and shook his head, his pearly whites fully shining at you so big that it took you back to the first time he smiled in front of you.

“no you’re not you big dummy.”

he let go of your cheeks and placed his palms flat against the brick wall behind you, cornering you in as he let his head hang low, the top of his spiky black hair the only thing in your line of vision.

“i don’t know how else i can make you see…”

he sounded so exhausted, and your heart clenched.

“was it—” you timidly placed your hands on his shoulders. “was it actually you that kissed me?”

he nodded, head still hung.

“and do you actually like me? like— like more than a friend…”

“way fucking more,” he mumbled.

you bit the inside of your cheek as you tried to contain yourself from screaming.

you couldn’t believe it. the megumi fushiguro, number eighteen, the most handsome man you’ve ever seen and the kindest one you’ve ever met… liked you.

“i could’ve sworn i kissed you..” you spoke softly, trailing off.

“you didn’t.” his voice was firm. “i kissed you and i put my hand up your thigh…” his forehead lifted to rest on the crook of your neck as he sighed a deep breath.

“i told— i told takuma to scram at the banquet because i got jealous that you were talking to him more than me. i saw you crying in the hall that first time we spoke and i recognized you and i went up to you because finally—”

he picked his head up slowly, eyes serious. “finally, you noticed me.”

he was so close that your nose brushed gently with his.

“you’re so dense y/n…”

megumi’s eyes flickered to your lips, “i’ve wanted you since the party.”

“the party?” you murmured.

he nodded. “the party where your friend first met yuji.”

your breath hitched as you felt his hands slide down the wall and snake over your hips, holding you tightly against him as the shock of his words made your body numb and tingly.

since the party?

it all seemed to click into place then, every single moment megumi tried to get you to look at him, to talk to him, in his own discreet way that you were completely oblivious to. and you were so fucking caught up in this fog of denial, that a person like megumi could never be interested in a person like you, that it made you push him away for the longest time without even giving yourself a chance.

you were so fucking stupid.

your arms slowly wrapped around his broad shoulders, the rough feeling of his baseball uniform underneath your fingertips and arms as you pressed your nose up against his shoulder shyly, feeling so incredibly bad for avoiding megumi for so long.

“i’m sorry…” you mumbled. “i’m sorry i was so oblivious gumi.”

you felt him shake his head from the crook of your neck silently, the vibration of his heart beating rapidly against you making you sweat and melt at the same time.

“don’t be.”

“i just—” you struggled. “i just thought you didn’t like me like i liked you and i wanted to respect your space…”

“i understand,” he muttered. “but i don’t want you to respect my space anymore.”

you held him tighter.

“and—” your voice was slightly muffled by his shoulder.

“hm?”

“i liked it when you put your hand on my thigh…”

megumi stilled, you playing the night he kissed you over and over in your head again like you’ve done since it happened— the thought making you nervous and timid.

he gripped you tighter.

“did you?”

you nodded, “mhm.”

megumi without parting from you, slipped a hand under your shirt and soothed his fingers over the bare skin of your torso, your breathing stuttering, his rough hand radiating warmth.

“what else do you like.”

you gripped the fabric of his uniform.

“i like… i like the way you kissed me. and how you touch me… like right now.”

your voice was so so soft, practically a whisper as he seemed to shiver under your words, wanting more.

“what else.”

“you,” you mumbled. “your body… your hair… your face… your hands… the way you talk to people.”

“you want me?” he murmured breathlessly.

“more than anything.”

“what else do you like?”

you leaned your head back a little and pressed your lips to his ear. “the way you play ball.”

he hummed, “you like the way i play baby?”

you nodded, your heart hammering.

he lifted his face from the crook of your neck and shamelessly pressed his lips to your cheek, murmuring.

“you wanna see what else i can do?”

“what— what else?”

megumi’s face remained pressed against your cheek as he let both of his hands now snake underneath your shirt and upwards, slowly but roughly groping the cup of your tits over your bra, feeling you up as you gasped.

“uh huh..” he pressed an open mouthed wet kiss to your pink fuzzy cheek. “‘cause i can do a lot more than just be your cool baseball man.”

he roughly spun you around and pushed you up against the wall, his hands coming back up to your breasts to grope you as he shoved and rubbed his hardened clothed dick against your perky ass, your tiny skirt riding up and revealing your pretty pink panties that made him absolutely feral.

“gumi!” you gasped. “s—someone could see—”

“i don’t fucking care.”

megumi buried his nose further into the back of your neck and your hair, him being a little pervert in the most delicious and intoxicating way possible.

he dragged his mouth up against your skin and latched on to the nape of your neck, sucking and biting sloppily against it as he marked you aggressively, no doubt in your mind that a purple bruise would follow soon after as his hands slipped under your bra now, pinching your hard nipples meanly and laughing when you jumped.

you moaned and whined against the wall, your body trembling as you felt your slick arousal slip from your hole and dampen your panties, choked up embarrassment coating your face as he shoved his fingers down your skirt without warning.

“you’re soaked baby…” he whispered. “and all because i grabbed your tits?”

“megumiii…” you whined, and you squeaked as he quickly slipped his fingers in between your pussy lips and pinched your clit.

“gumi,” he corrected. “fix it.”

“g—gumi—”

“good, pretty baby...” he praised, his dick rock fucking solid against your ass at the way his fingers slipped and slid in between your lower lips without much effort, both of your chests heaving and panting as your brains frazzled erotically.

the sounds of footsteps echoed from the end of the hall and you both immediately froze, a gasp slipping past your lips before megumi quickly covered your mouth with the same hand that was just fingering you.

“shh.” he kissed the back of your head.

if anyone were to walk in and see the sight before them— megumi with his crotch pressed up against your ass, a hand pushing your top and bra up, squeezing your bare puffy tit and the other covering your mouth?

they’d drop dead.

without another moment wasted, megumi uncovered your mouth and turned you around, his tongue darting out and licking the patch of wet on your cheek from his fingers before shoving them in his mouth, sucking up your left over juice as he bent down and wrapped his arms around your legs, lifting and throwing you over his shoulder.

megumi was freaky.

your eyes widened as he walked to the double doors of the locker room and kicked it open with his foot, turning around to lock them shut before walking to a corner and setting you down gently on a bench, his palms flat beside you on the smooth wood as he towered over you.

“is— is everybody gone?”

“long gone.” he nibbled at your cheek.

“but— but what if someone wants to come in?—”

he pulled away and got down on his knees. “i’ll tell them to fuck off.”

you panted as he pressed his hands against your thighs and squeezed, spreading them apart slowly with his eyes trained to your drenched cute pink panties.

he slid his hands underneath your thighs and lifted, bending you and pressing your knees closer to you as your back hit the lockers behind you, your hands gripping the bench for dear life.

“has anyone ever seen your pussy?” he gruffed, licking his lips.

you shook your head, embarrassed. “n—no.”

“has any other man touched you the way i’ve touched you?”

“m—maybe in high school?—”

megumi sunk his teeth into your inner thigh and bit you as you yelped.

“thought you liked me.”

“i do!” you sputtered.

“clearly not if you’re being a little whore and letting other filthy men on you.”

your hole clenched.

“that— that was before you!”

he stuck his tongue out and pressed it flat against your pussy covered panties, dragging it slowly and agonizingly up until the tip of his tongue passed and flicked up against your clit, the tip moving around and around your little nub as your thighs shook.

“doesn’t matter.” he let a string of drool fall from the corner of his lips and over your ruined underwear, your eyes fluttering as you felt his warm saliva ooze in between your lips.

“and what about takuma, hm?”

you tried to open your eyes. “ta—takuma?”

“mhm. he was all over you.”

you hiccuped as he wrapped his fingers around the straps of your panties and pulled them down.

“i—”

“bet he wanted to do to you what i’m doing right now…” he hummed. “would you have let him?”

he stuffed his nose into your bare pussy and inhaled deeply, your jaw dropping as you squeezed your eyes shut.

your lack of response caused him to pull away and bite your thigh again, harder.

“would you?”

“n—no!” you shook your head quickly, strands of your hair lightly grazing your face. “i wouldn’t—”

“so who then?” he licked over his bite mark. “who would you spread your legs open for like this and let them see what a nasty fucking girl you are…”

“you gumi!” you hiccuped. “just you—”

“just me?”

megumi finally let his tongue slither itself in between your folds, slowly running over your flaps and clit as your hole continued to squelch out your arousal, pooling on the bench beneath you.

“y—yes!”

he slobbered and spit over your pussy like a starved dog, his face glistening like sugary glazed sweets.

“that’s what i fucking thought,” he hummed. “you gonna try and forget me again?”

“no!” you shook your head. “never! i can’t!”

he gripped your thighs tighter as he absolutely violated your folds then, wet sloshing and slurpings filling the air as he spat and shook his head side to side rapidly on your clit, you squealing and attempting to snap your thighs shut in response, his strong grip not letting you even if you tried.

“i—i can’t!” you cried. “gumi slow please it’s too much—”

“be a pretty baby and stop complaining.” he ran his slimy tongue over your pussy entirely before shoving it inside your hole.

you choked and clasped a trembling hand over your mouth, tears of ecstasy spilling from the corners of your eyes as you squeezed them shut.

you whimpered and moaned and cried so pathetically, so cutely in his ears that he grinned as he pumped his tongue in and out of you filthily.

“you’re so fucking sweet—” he slapped your cunt and you jumped. “good thing i have a sweet tooth.”

your legs shook violently as you began to see stars, your tight hole clenching and sputtering around nothing as you felt your release approaching.

“gumi—” your hand flew back to the bench and you gripped it. “m’gonna cum! i’m— i’m gonna make a mess—”

megumi’s hand shot up and wrapped around one of your thighs so the tips of his fingers met your clit, his digits proceeding to rub and flick it as you climbed and reached your high, a high pitched scream echoing through the steamy locker room as your pussy leaked your sweet cum on his tongue.

you shuddered and jumped at the way he cleaned up your release and swallowed it, running his tongue soothingly over the bite marks on your thighs before coming back up and wiping his glistening face with his sleeve.

megumi leaned in and pressed a gentle loving kiss to your lips, a complete turn around from the feral beast you had in between your legs— you kissing him back with just as much feel and affection.

he pulled back and got back up on his feet, you watching him ditzy as he jogged over to his locker and turned the lock until it clicked open, him rummaging inside for a little before he shut it and came back with a fresh pair of gray sweatpants.

“put these on baby,” he murmured.

you nodded sweetly and took them from him, you slipping off your skirt and pulling his sweatpants over as you watched him bend and look over corners.

“what are you looking for?” you asked softly.

he perked up then and stuck his hand under a bench, pulling out your wet ruined pink panties and holding them up high like a trophy.

“oh my god—” you covered your mouth in embarrassment. “give me those!”

“nope.” he shook his head and walked over to his duffel bag on the floor, unzipping it before stuffing your panties inside. “these are mine now.”

megumi came back up and wrapped his palm underneath your chin, tilting your face up softly before planting a sweet kiss to your swollen lips.

“and so are you.”

and that you were.

you went on many many dates with megumi after that, each and every single one so incredibly lovely and fun, a genuine connection you felt with him and each other that you had never ever felt before in your life, absolutely enamored by the way he gently treated you and made you feel like the only one that mattered in his life.

your best friend was obviously over the moon for you, squealing like a maniac at everything you told her, and always teased megumi about his lovesick face whenever you came to his games or appeared in the locker room to help him change, sort his clothes, or fix his hair.

“megumi…” she snickered. “your cheeks are a little red! are you like— sick?”

he scowled at her and turned the other way, wiping his sweaty forehead as he watched you bounce down the steps cutely and onto the field after one of his practices, a huge smile on your face that replicated on his.

the minute you jumped into his arms, he peppered your little cheeks with kisses as you giggled and ruffled his spiky hair, asking him how he felt about practice and other things after he set you down.

without anyone noticing, a journalist was on the field, and at the sight of megumi fushiguro’s beaming toothy smile as he watched you run to him, they quickly snapped a photo and published it.

one was a perfect portrait photo of his shining white smile (that later became his signature picture) and the other was a photo of his arms out for you as you ran, the both of them causing an absolute uproar that altered megumi’s image from that day forward.

megumi fushiguro was thought to be the meanest player on the team since the day he got signed.

but when he started taking more pictures with fans, kind of stopped offending the people around him, signed more autographs, and smiled occasionally at the paparazzi— all while your pretty self stood right next to him?

megumi fushiguro was sometimes the meanest player on the team.

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want more? you can find my mlb!megumi fushiguro masterlist here!

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