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pathologicalreid · 7 months ago

Note

Okay before i say my request can i be your 🐚 anon ??? that's all i ask in terms of that BUT:

hear me out- so spencer reid x bau!fem!sunshine!reader gets kidnapped outside of work and her kidnapper tortures her and the works, but the worst part is he has a live feed directed for the bau so they just have to watch the poor girl get borderline killed but she's still fighting back and so eventually he turns the feed off and they go to the unsub once they find his location but before they burst the door down they hear the reader like genuinely begging for him to just kill her and it's GUT WRENCHING. then they get him and she free and she's immediately back to her bubbly self until randomly she like shows up at his door and spence tells her it's okay to not be okay and she just breaks down RAGHHHH

i'm so sorry for writing you an essay but I got the idea and simply couldn't let it go to waste 😭

-🐚 (i hope if that's okay with you???)

epiphany | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst; re: hurt/comfort content warnings: bau!reader, sunshine!reader, kidnapping, violence against reader, reader begging for it to be over, gun violence, general cm violence, exhaustion, hospitals, poor coping mechanisms and unhelpful therapists. word count: 2.92k a/n: of course you can be my 🐚 anon! this is a story in four parts, before, during, after, and epiphany! i hope you enjoy it <3 thank you SO much for requesting!

epiphany - a moment of sudden revelation or insight.

before

The horrified look on Garcia’s face couldn’t possibly be a good sign, “Uh, sir,” she addressed Hotch, “I’m being sent an encrypted link from an admin on the UnSub’s site.”

Responding with a stiff nod, Hotch looked toward the screen in the roundtable room, “Open it.”

Each team member had an instant reaction to the image projected onto the large screen. JJ had covered her mouth with her hands, Morgan had to peel his eyes away from the screen, and Spencer couldn’t get himself to do the same thing. Despite his better judgment, he kept his eyes on the screen.

“He’s killing her,” Emily observed, watching with a horrified expression as the UnSub hand his hands around your throat. You were dangling from the ceiling by your bound hands, leaving you flailing as your body begged for air.

Hotch leaned intensely over Garcia’s shoulder, “Is this live?” He asked, voice raising ever so slightly as he watched the tech analyst’s fingers work nimbly across her keyboard. As she nodded, he continued, “Can you find where he’s streaming this from?”

Parting her lips, a determined look settled on the blonde’s face as she continued to type, “It looks like he’s running it through a boatload of different proxies – it’s gonna take me a minute.”

Rossi shook his head, leaning over the roundtable, “She might not have that long.” It was the truth, a harsh truth, but the truth, nonetheless.

It had been one minute and thirty-seven seconds already, brain death would occur after four minutes, maybe five if you were lucky. Spencer didn’t want to have to take that chance. “Oh god,” Penelope cried, working through the tears that had started to stream down her face, “Okay, she’s in this general area.”

“Keep going,” Hotch ordered succinctly. “Everyone else, look at the picture. Is anything recognizable about the background?”

The lighting was dim at best, which didn’t leave the team with a lot to work with while they studied your surroundings. At one point, your attacker shouted, and Spencer’s attention moved back to you.

In the midst of your struggle, you had managed to strike him between the legs, sending him stumbling away from you, shouting expletives as space was put between the two of you. The BAU took a collective breath as they listened to you breathe, spluttering as the UnSub regained his composure. “Do you see that? The ridges in the wall?” Derek said, using his index finger to point to what he was talking about.

“It looks like a storage container,” Emily replied, furrowing her brows as she comprehended what Morgan was talking about.

Wholly focused on you, Spencer watched as the UnSub got in your face, screaming horrible words at you until you spit in his face. He swung at you, causing your face to turn with a nauseating smack until your head lolled forward and you stopped moving.

Still typing, Penelope spoke up, “Got it! Sending the address to your phones now.”

during

There was a maze of storage containers at the port, and so far, you had turned up in none of them. “Shh, wait,” Emily hissed, “Do you guys hear that?” She asked, looking over each of her shoulders, ears perked up like a bloodhound.

Straining his ears, Spencer straightened up, lowering his firearm as he focused on listening to the world around him, waiting for whatever Emily was talking about.

“Just fucking do it!” Your voice reverberated off of the surface of the numerous shipping containers. Spencer found himself torn as he knew you were alive but recognized the fear and anger in your voice. The pain as you screamed nearly stopped him in his tracks, but he found himself trudging forward.

Following closely behind Morgan, they stopped for a moment, trying to determine which direction you would be found in. Your shouts rang out into the pitch black of the night, “Stop being a coward and pull the fucking trigger!”

His steps faltered, leaving JJ stumbling into his back. “Reid,” she whispered, prompting him to shake himself out of his surprised state and continue moving. You didn’t know what you were saying, he tried to convince himself.

You couldn’t see the camera the same way he had seen it so many years ago, kidnapped and drugged against his will and hoping the team would understand the clues disguised as conversation. He had been taken from an UnSub’s property, and your apartment had been broken into – the only thing taken had been you.

It wasn’t an unfamiliar fear in the BAU, worrying about an UnSub breaking into your home, but you weren’t targeted because of your work in the bureau. You had been targeted because you fit the victim pattern.

If he never had to see the word “missing” under your face again, it would be too soon.

“Please,” you begged. “Please just kill me. Just let me die. I don’t want to do it anymore,” your voice started to grow quieter, but the team could still hear you – they were getting closer.

Emily and Morgan went to one side of the doors, leaving Spencer and JJ on the other side – Rossi and Hotch were elsewhere on the property, waiting with first responders and calling the shots via comms.

A small whimper came from the container at the same time as the click of a gun cocking. “Just pull it,” you pleaded weakly. “It’ll be so easy for you. It’ll be so much easier with me dead,” you informed him despondently.

“FBI!” Morgan called out, pulling the heavy metal doors of the container open, revealing the four FBI agents with their vests on, guns raised.

Just like it had happened in an action film, Spencer watched as the UnSub moved his hand to the trigger of his weapon. Your eyes were closed, tears streaming through the dirt that was caked on your face. Without a second thought, Spencer pulled the trigger on his firearm, sending a bullet through the UnSub’s temple before he could have the chance to kill you.

Emily went over to the body, gingerly picking up the weapon and disengaging it while looking over to you. Spencer was knelt in front of you, debating whether or not he should touch you before he decided on speaking to you first, “Y/N?” His voice was no more than a whisper as he expected your eyes to open, but they didn’t.

“His pocket,” you rasped, your traumatized vocal cords straining on every word.

Spencer hummed, “What about them, love?” He kept his voice gentle, watching you as you squeezed your eyes shut.

Sniffling, you hung your head low, “Keys,” you mumbled helplessly, unable to speak more than you already were, each word only drained you of energy you didn’t have in the first place.

Understanding, JJ crouched next to the stiff body of the UnSub and fished a keyring out of his pants pocket, handing them to Spencer.

With shaky hands, the third key unlocked the handcuffs around your wrists, and your body slumped forward, practically falling into Spencer as he tenderly wrapped his arms around your torso, “I’ve got you,” he reassured you.

It wasn’t until you were sat in the back of an ambulance that anyone got a good look at you. There was a fine layer of grime coating your skin, causing it to look at least one shade darker than it normally was, but what concerned Spencer the most was the petechiae of your eyes. The burst blood vessels were a direct result of his hands around your throat.

The paramedics looked over you despite your protests. It was non-negotiable, and that instruction came from Hotch. The strangest part of it was that you were continuously trying to wave off concern, insisting you were fine, kicking your legs off the edge of the rig while the female paramedic looked at the bruising on your cheek. “It might be a fractured ZMA, she’ll need a CT to confirm,” she continued to list even more ailments, including potential internal bleeding and extensive damage to your throat. The swelling in your neck was beginning to catch up with you, affecting your ability to talk.

Spencer rode with you in the ambulance, holding your hand while you told him, “I knew you’d find me. I never gave up.”

I don’t want to do it anymore, your pleas for the UnSub to end your life rang in his head, he’d never forget hearing you say that, and you didn’t even know he heard you.

He didn’t have any good answers for anyone while you were getting a CT. By the time you returned from surgery to repair your fractured cheekbone, he shut the door to your room, sequestering the two of you into your own little world.

The bruising around your neck had already begun to darken, and by this time tomorrow, your throat would likely be a sickening reflection of what had happened to you. Your doctor had elected to leave you intubated because they were afraid of the swelling affecting your ability to breathe.

There was nothing for him to do, nothing except sit at your bedside and hold your hand, skimming the pad of his thumb across your bloodied knuckles.

after

You were skipping - well, maybe the step pattern wasn’t technically a skip.

Spencer watched as you waltzed into the bullpen with far too much pep in your step. “I didn’t know you were coming back today,” Morgan said, being the first to greet you once you passed through the glass doors.

Waving a hand in the air, you shrugged, “I have to pass a final psych eval with Hotch, but then I’m all set to be back next week.” You were grinning as you embraced your friend, but over your shoulder, Derek sent Spencer an inquiring look. Asking a silent question that Spencer himself didn’t even know the answer to.

What was going on with you? Four weeks ago, you had been struggling to stand after being beaten within an inch of your life, and ever since, you had been nothing but smiles.

Before you could settle into the hug, you pulled away, placing your hands on Derek’s shoulders, and holding him at arm’s length. Approximately the same distance you had kept Spencer at for the past month.

As you passed behind Spencer’s desk, you left a featherlight touch on the top of his head before continuing your way up to Hotch’s office, smiling as you passed the roundtable room. The same room where the team had watched your torture as it was live-streamed to them.

“Is she..?” Emily started to ask the question on everyone’s minds, but the major issue was that no one quite knew what the question was. Had you finally cracked? Were you okay? He wasn’t sure, and it was starting to eat at him.

The only thing they could do was watch as you greeted Hotch with a chirp, entering his office and firmly closing the door behind you.

epiphany

The knock on his door was the first thing to pull his attention away from his book since he got home from Quantico. Looking down at the inside of his wrist, he frowned at the time – just past midnight.

Still, he peeled himself up off of the couch before making his way to the front door, peering out of the peephole just to see you on the other side.

Slowly, Spencer set the book on his entryway table and undid the lock and deadbolt to his apartment, swinging the heavy wooden door open to reveal his girlfriend. You were donning flannel pajama pants, not unlike the ones he had on, and an old college t-shirt. There was a crumpled-up piece of paper in your hand, but he couldn’t make out any of the words on it.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asked, the question slipping easily off his tongue. He didn’t wait for the answer, ushering you inside his apartment and toward the couch. He redid the locks on the front door before joining you on the supple leather.

You furrowed your brows, staring at the piece of paper in your lap, “I failed.”

Leaning over your shoulder curiously, Spencer looked at the piece of paper, quickly recognizing it as your psychological evaluation. He read over what he could see, noting the words “deflection” and “coping mechanism.”

“You haven’t been sleeping,” he observed aloud. You must’ve been wearing makeup this morning when you came to the BAU because now he could see the clearly defined dark circles under your eyes. He hadn’t seen you much over the past month, though it wasn’t for lack of trying. Spencer had spent many days sitting outside of your apartment, waiting for you to let him in. He didn’t dare use his spare key, it felt like an invasion of your privacy.

Turning to meet his eyes, you shrugged helplessly, “I haven’t been tired. I mean – I’m… I’m fine.”

Nodding gently, “That’s a deflection. You’re telling me that you’re fine when I can clearly see that you aren’t.”

Your lips parted in apprehension while he read you like an open book. “I’m exhausted,” you admitted, tearing little pieces off of your evaluation form as you grew anxious. “I get into bed, and I can’t sleep, I can’t convince myself to close my eyes,” you elaborated, watching as Spencer reached out and took the paper from you, setting it on the coffee table.

“Have you talked to anyone?” Spencer asked, tentatively taking your hand in his.

Humming, you leaned back on the couch cushions, “Like my mandated FBI therapist? No, I don’t really talk to him much. I’ve started pretending we’re having a staring contest. I usually win, but that’s probably because he has no idea that we’re playing.”

Raising his eyebrows, Spencer inclined his head toward you, “You’re doing it again.”

You clamped your lips shut, shifting on the couch so that you could withdraw your hand from his and sit on your hands. “I don’t do this very well, huh? Talking about the bad stuff,” you murmured to Spencer, looking over at him. “I hate the bad stuff,” you informed him.

“But we have to talk about it eventually, sweetheart. You can’t keep all of that inside,” he told you, moving over on the couch, closer to where you were seated.

Shaking your head, you pulled your knees up to your chest, and Spencer recognized that you were trying to make yourself seem as small as possible. The UnSub had made you feel small – another reason that Spencer had to hate him. “I wish I was her again,” you whispered, a tinge of fear entering your voice.

“You want to be who again?”

Looking over at Spencer, you sighed, “The me that I was before. I want to feel good and happy and perfect and free,” you spoke earnestly.

He gave you an understanding smile, pulling at your hands so that he could hold them in his own, “Nobody expects you to be perfect right now.”

You closed your eyes, “but I want to be her again.” Small tears started to stream down your cheeks while you mourned the previous version of yourself.

“I know,” Spencer reassured you. “I know you do, but if you can’t quite get to her, I’ll still be here for the you that you are now,” he said, welcoming you with open arms as you began to lean into him. “It wouldn’t have been easier,” he murmured into your hair.

Humming, you grew content in Spencer’s arms, the only place he had wanted you over the past month. “What wouldn’t have been easier?”

Ever so slightly, Spencer tightened his grip around you, “If you had died. It wouldn’t have been easier for anyone. I know it felt like that at the time-“

“You heard that?” You asked, horrified at the thought of Spencer and everyone else hearing what you had thought were your last words.

Nodding, Spencer hummed a confirmation. “I can’t stop thinking about it, and I just needed to tell you that I understand. I don’t want you to feel guilty about what you said, and I don’t want you to feel like you need to regret it. You needed a way out, and that was the one you saw,” he told you.

You were silent for an eerie amount of time, without being able to see your face, Spencer was afraid that he had misread the entire situation. “Thank you,” you whispered, straightening up and looking over at him, bleary eyes meeting his. “I’m just… thank you,” you whispered reaching out for him, embracing him as your tears sept through the fabric of his t-shirt.

The both of you stayed like that for a while, your body was tucked into his side as his fingers lazily trailed up and down your back. “Did you want to try to get some sleep?”

You lifted your head, resting your chin on his chest, “Can I stay here?”

Frowning, Spencer cocked his head to the side, “Yes, isn’t that what I just asked?” Maybe it was more of an implication, but he felt it was fairly straightforward.

“I mean, can I stay here for a while? Maybe for a couple of days?” You asked, pressing your lips together nervously.

Moving his head forward, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, “You can stay here for as long as you want to.”

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davy-zeppeli · 2 years ago

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You really like Mike Nesmith. 2. You're actually married!!!! (to the lovely Mike). 3. You're funny :D

omg I don't even know anything about Robert Michael Nesmith born 30th December 1942 in Houston, Texas to the inventor of liquid paper Bette Nesmith Graham xx is he cute?? 👀

also thank you for thinking I'm funny 😭 my one goal in life is to at least be amusing so ilysm!! 💕💚

#im married to the Mike folder i had to make on my phone because I have too many images #but!!! thank you so much for the facts I am pleased I am witnessed 😭#ily anon #ask

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em-ontv · 3 months ago

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Hii, I was wondering if you could write something for Soldier Boy? Just something where he’s down bad and obsessed with the reader? Love your writing, thank you 😭

Honestly, thank you for this, I needed it to feed into my Soldier Boy delusions. Here you go, anon! Hope you like it <3

Guilty pleasure.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x fem!supe!reader

Warnings: vulgar language/cursing, obsessive behavior, Ben is really down bad, no use of y/n, English is not my first language, mistakes should be present, apologies beforehand :)

Word count: 439

———————————————————————————

Ben was the fucking Soldier Boy, the All-American hero, the one-man army who could singlehandedly fight a whole battalion. He had the whole country eating out of the palm of his hand. But he had a secret — a guilty pleasure, if you will. And it was you.

You were more than just a supe. You were a sensation, neatly crafted by Vought to be the perfect girl. The kind that made men weak in the knees.

And Ben was no different.

Yeah, you had no fucking clue, but he had a serious crush on you. He was your biggest fucking fan, and he felt pathetic about it — Soldier Boy didn't do crushes, but here he was.

He had stacks and stacks of magazines of you, posters hung up on the walls of his room, and even some rare, limited-edition shit that he paid top dollar for. He'd never admit it, but he had spent countless hours staring at printed images of your face, tearing his way through Supe Weekly to find you in there. It was ridiculous, and he knew it, but that didn't stop him from acting like a totally obsessed fanboy every time he saw your face anywhere he walked.

America's hardest badass — hoarding fan memorabilia like a fucking teenager — what a joke. And he'd be damned if one of his teammates from Payback ever found out about his little obsession with you, he'd never be able to live it down, but he’d probably punch their skulls in.

So when the word came down that Payback had a working opportunity with you, Ben almost lost his shit. He'd practically jumped out of his chair when the news hit. But he wanted to keep it cool — be the stoic leader who didn't bat an eye at you. But inside? He was thrilled. A chance to meet you, to work alongside you? It was like someone had handed him Christmas on a silver platter.

When the day finally came, Ben stood in front of the mirror in his quarters, checking his reflection for the twentieth time. The thought of embarrassing himself in front of you made his stomach twist.

And the conference room.

He was fighting the urge to just bolt for the door. And then you walked in. Holy shit, you were even better in person. It made his brain short-circuit when you walked directly to him.

"Soldier Boy," you greeted, your voice smooth. "Been looking forward to this."

When Ben opened his mouth to speak, nearly no sound came out except for a voice crack. And it was at this moment that he knew. He was fucked.

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creamflix · 14 days ago

Text

UNSCRIPTED — toji fushiguro x female reader [chapter 5/5]

summary: you’re a faceless author of scandalous smut — great at writing steamy scenes but totally clueless about real-life romance (and with no one to match your freak). enter toji fushiguro, a hot stranger you (accidentally) throw up on during a drunken night out. surprise! he’s also the future voice actor for your smutty novel’s main character. can you survive the awkwardness of your disastrous meet-cute while keeping your identity (and dignity) a secret? welcome to the chaos of your own erotic fantasy romcom!

content warning & tags: (erotic) voice artist! toji, (smut) writer! reader, smutty content!! [in this chapter: slight dubcon/cnc (?), virginity loss, riding, switch! toji, sort of dom!reader, pussy drunk toji, kind of wholesome, whole lot of yapping], sort of workplace romance, secret/anon identity, slight social media au, meet-cute, virgin!reader, single dad dilf! toji, kid! megumi, strangers to lovers (?), she fell first but he fell harder, mentions of other characters (satoru gojo, suguru geto, megumi fushiguro, shoko eiri, brief mentions of ryomen sukuna)

notes: two chapters a day, who is this diva !!? nah i had this around and i could not help but post it today. it will either mean you all binge read it, or you all completely forget that either chapter has been posted. curse this damn algo! or maybe i am just overenthusiastically posting. but gaaahhhh!! can't believe we are at the end </3 !! thank you thank you THANK YOU !! for the love, i'm so beyond grateful. thank you for letting va toji and smut writer reader in your dashboards and following them along on their stupid meet-cute journey <3 and, please don't be mad about the epilogue, i SWEAR megumi is not like other guys [he is just like his dad...]. also, if you're confused about the ending, PLEASE!! read persephone. it's not as emotional and funny as this one, but...read it so that you could make sense of the plot? IDKKK. or don't i think it's pretty self-explanatory. but in all honesty, the freaky scene was really difficult to write in this chapter, and i really apologise if it seems..."anti-climatic" or a "letdown" or "not smutty enough" :") it's a lot more yapping and emotion based, not something i do often but i sorta liked writing it? i don't know, sometimes you should take a break from the dirty talk and just talk to yourself...eugh what am i saying, anyways! please, enjoy. and let me know how you liked this - comments, reblogs - i'm spying on them all

read on ao3! ● series masterlist

➤ related au: persephone [business tycoon! sukuna x reader]

your phone buzzes quietly on the nightstand, and you reach over, still half-buried in blankets, to check the message. toji grumbles beside you, wrapping an arm lazily around your waist, pulling you right back to him. “don’t even think about leaving this bed,” he mumbles against your shoulder, voice rough with sleep.

you squint at your screen, smiling as shoko’s name lights up with a string of texts.

shoko: mission successful. megumi has been delivered to the institution of learning. shoko: also, fyi, we're stealing the limo for the dayshoko: and no, we won’t be back until we’re legally obligated. don’t worry, we’ll keep gojo under control… mostly shoko: enjoy your alone time, lovebirds 😘

you chuckle, typing back a quick reply.

you: thank you, dearest shoko. keep gojo from being arrested plz 😭 you: we really do appreciate it, but just know i have zero faith in ur ability to contain gojo, lol shoko: fair enough, neither do i

toji tightens his hold around you, grumbling, “what’s so funny? thought you were all mine this morning.”

you turn, placing your phone on the nightstand as you nestle back against him. “just shoko. apparently, she, gojo, and geto did drop megumi off at school. in the limo.”

toji lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “bet those teachers are loving that.”

“oh, absolutely. i’m sure gojo made it a whole production, too.” you laugh, imagining the scene — a horrified teacher watching the three self-proclaimed “cool” adults proudly unloading an amused, completely willing megumi from the limo like he’s some kind of celebrity.

toji’s hand slides up your back, sending a warm shiver down your spine. “good,” he murmurs, a lazy smirk on his face. “means we’ve got all day.”

you bite back a grin. “is that so, mr. fushiguro?”

“damn right, mrs. fushiguro,” he whispers, and there’s that flutter in your chest again.

mrs. fushiguro — it’s still so new, so surreal. you lean into his touch, feeling that warmth radiate from him, that steady presence that’s been with you for so long, but now, somehow, feels even closer.

“god, that sounds… i don’t know. just amazing,” you murmur, voice almost shy. “it’s crazy how much changes when we’re just… us.”

he leans in, pressing his lips to your forehead, and it’s so soft, so tender, it’s enough to make your heart do another flip.

“yeah? feelin’ all mushy on me now, are ya?” he teases, smirking down at you, but his voice is so soft, so genuine.

“maybe i am,” you admit, tracing small circles on his chest with your finger. “just… thinking about how lucky i am. how lucky we are. you… me… and megumi.” the last part brings a smile to your lips, the idea of the three of you, a real family, settled and safe and happy.

toji’s eyes soften, and he leans in to kiss you, slow and warm. “trust me, i’m the lucky one,” he murmurs, his hand coming up to cradle your face as he gazes at you. “i’ve got you, i’ve got ‘gumi… i got everything i need right here.”

you look away for a second, laughing softly to hide how much his words make your heart ache in the best way. “if anyone heard you right now, they’d never believe the tough guy act you put on.”

“hey, don’t go spreading rumors,” he warns, but his smile gives him away. “only you get to see me like this.” his fingers stroke along your cheek as he adds, “my best side.”

you look up at him, a rush of affection filling your chest so full you feel it might burst. “i just… i feel like the luckiest person alive. like… what did i do to end up here with you?”

“you didn’t have to do anything, baby,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple. “just had to be you.”

you both settle into a comfortable silence, his hand finding yours under the covers, fingers interlacing. there’s something so perfect, so still about this moment — just lying together, his thumb brushing idly over your knuckles. the warmth of his skin, the steady beat of his heart — it’s like every worry, every noise from the world fades away, leaving just the two of you cocooned here in the quiet, the morning sun filtering softly through the curtains.

you close your eyes, sighing contentedly. “i could stay like this forever, you know.”

he chuckles, pulling you closer. “good. ‘cause i’m not lettin’ you go anywhere.”

you’re just basking in the warm silence, feeling utterly at peace, when toji leans in, his voice low and smooth in your ear. "so, mrs. fushiguro,” he drawls, a smirk creeping onto his lips, “wasn’t there talk of a… private reading of that dragon king sequel?”

oh, no.

you blink at him, trying to keep a straight face.

this man is absolutely trying to get in your pants with literature.

who does that? well, toji does, apparently. and damn him for knowing you’d promised him a private reading of that particular book launch. a foolish vow you made months ago, when you didn’t think he’d actually remember.

but, of course, he remembers everything.

“i… um,” you stammer, your cheeks heating. “that was — okay, that was months ago, toji. i didn’t think you’d actually —”

“you didn’t think i’d remember?” he grins, and it’s the kind of grin that tells you you’re not getting out of this. “i remember everything, sweetheart. especially when it involves… let’s say, romantic storytelling?”

romantic storytelling, huh? right.

sure. that’s one way to put it.

“toji, it’s not just, you know, romantic storytelling,” you mutter, cheeks warming even more. “i mean, it’s got… dragons. and quests. and —”

“oh, i remember chapter twenty just fine,” he cuts in, that cheeky smirk now completely in control of the situation. he leans closer, his face inches from yours, all smug and mischievous.

“you know, the one where the dragon king finds his queen and… gives her a real good ‘welcome’?”

your mouth goes dry.

this absolute menace. he’s got the audacity to remember chapter twenty?

“oh, you mean the ‘epic battle scene,’ right?” you try, feigning innocence. “where they’re fighting for the fate of the kingdom, and it’s super dramatic, lots of… explosions, you know?”

he laughs, low and deep, and god, it’s unfair how sexy he makes laughing sound. “sure, if you’re talking about the fireworks when the dragon king finally, you know…” he raises an eyebrow.

“claims his queen.”

you are done for.

“toji —” you start, but he’s already pushing himself up, reaching over to grab a copy of your book from the nightstand. you mentally curse past you for being sentimental enough to keep a copy so close by.

“here we go,” he says, flipping through the pages, and damn it, he’s really going for it. “right to chapter twenty. ah… here. listen to this, babe.” he clears his throat dramatically, as if he’s about to perform the damn shakespearean sonnet of the year.

“the dragon king leaned in, his voice a whisper like embers in the dark, promising the queen his undying loyalty, his soul, his fire —”

“toji,” you hiss, trying not to laugh because this is utterly ridiculous. but also kind of the most endearing thing he’s ever done.

“— and his lips claimed hers with the kind of passion only a dragon king possessed,” he continues, absolutely deadpan.

his eyes flicker up to yours, and the next thing you know, he’s leaning in, his mouth soft against yours, playful, slow. “see?” he murmurs against your lips, teasing. “it’s right there in the text.”

you barely hold back a giggle. “toji fushiguro, you are not… using my own book to seduce me.”

he grins, kissing the corner of your mouth. “oh, sweetheart. i absolutely am. and i’m pretty sure you’re enjoying it, too.” his hands slide around your waist, pulling you closer, and damn it, you are enjoying this.

“this is absurd,” you mutter, though your words lose their conviction as he trails kisses down your neck, each one soft and teasing. “you’re ridiculous.”

“ridiculous,” he murmurs between kisses, “for my beautiful wife who writes… excellent dragon king romances? definitely.” he pauses, looking up at you with that glint in his eyes that you know spells trouble.

“and don’t act like you don’t find it hot, mrs. fushiguro. we both know that’s a lie.”

you groan, flopping back against the pillows. “why did i write chapter twenty like that? i’ve doomed myself.”

he raises an eyebrow, that smirk even more devilish. “hey, i’m just a fan, enjoying a private reading,” he says, leaning back in to brush his lips against yours, soft and gentle at first, but deepening, his hand cupping your cheek in that way that drives you crazy.

“go on,” he whispers, voice low, “read for me.”

your heart’s pounding now, every nerve in your body alive with the feel of him so close, his eyes warm and mischievous and so damn loving.

you swallow, taking a steadying breath, and somehow, miraculously, you manage to open the book and start reading in a low, slightly shaky voice.

“the dragon king wrapped his arms around her,” you read, feeling your voice hitch as toji’s fingers trace little patterns along your arm, sending shivers through you, “his breath warm against her ear, promising her… his devotion. his soul. his fire.”

“mmm,” toji murmurs, pressing a kiss to your jawline. “keep going. this is getting good.”

you continue, barely able to concentrate because he’s absolutely enjoying every second of this.

“and as his lips met hers, it was like… like an explosion of heat, consuming them both in a moment so intense it could… melt worlds.” you swallow, feeling his hand slide around your waist, his face close to yours, his gaze dark with desire.

“you know, i think your writing really captures the, uh, tension here,” he teases, his voice a rough whisper against your ear.

“you’re impossible,” you say, laughing despite yourself as he pulls you back down onto the bed, his kisses now less playful, more earnest, his hand finding yours, fingers interlacing like they belong there.

“impossibly in love with my talented, beautiful wife,” he murmurs against your skin, his lips soft and warm. “the one who just happens to write the best damn dragon romances out there.”

you let out a breathless laugh, burying your face in his shoulder. “if my readers could see this right now, they’d probably riot.”

he chuckles, pulling you close, his hand running through your hair. “well, they don’t get this version of you. that’s all mine.”

you look up at him, heart swelling with so much love you feel you might burst. “yeah?” you murmur, feeling your voice go soft, your hand reaching up to trace his jawline.

“yeah,” he says, leaning in to kiss you, slow and deep, the kind of kiss that makes you forget the whole world, until there’s just him, just you, just the two of you tangled together in this little piece of forever.

you’re deep in the moment, hands tangled around toji’s neck, your heart racing, and then thump! — your hardcover book smacks him right on the back of his head.

you freeze, horrified, but toji just blinks, a slow grin spreading across his face. where you see a mood-killer, he sees a grand opportunity.

“well, well,” he says, rubbing the spot with exaggerated drama, “guess the dragon king’s under attack.”

then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he reaches down, tugging at the hem of his shirt. “only one way to counter this… surprise assault.”

before you can say a word, he pulls the shirt over his head, revealing that ridiculous six — or is it eight? — pack of his. you lose count every time. the man’s a walking anatomy lesson.

he leans back against the pillows, arms casually behind his head like he’s just some unassuming king lounging in his castle.

“so,” he drawls, raising an eyebrow, “don’t you think it’s only fair for ‘equality’ reasons that you join me in my… wardrobe adjustments?”

you stare at him, knowing exactly what he’s doing, but still, the smirk on his face is impossible to resist.

“oh, ‘equality,’ huh?” you laugh, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. “you’re seriously using that excuse?”

“hey,” he says with an innocent shrug, though that devilish grin gives him away. “you hit me on the head. you owe me. this is… reparations.”

“reparations?” you raise an eyebrow, feigning disbelief as you fiddle with the book, stalling, though your heart’s racing. “i think you just want me out of my shirt.”

“yeah, obviously.” his eyes sparkle, not an ounce of shame. “you’ve got the dragon king here, and he’s got a… well, let’s just call it a mighty thirst for, uh, ‘visual balance.’”

you laugh, shaking your head. “visual balance? you’re just making things up now!”

“come on,” he says, reaching out and gently tugging at the hem of your shirt with that smirk that melts you every time. “for equality. and… maybe chapter twenty accuracy?”

you try to hold in a laugh, failing miserably. “oh, now you’re committed to accuracy, are you?”

“absolutely.” he leans in, his eyes meeting yours, that smirk growing softer, somehow more sincere. “besides,” he murmurs, voice low, “i’m not about to let some book have all the fun of a private reading with you.”

his words send warmth straight to your chest, and you find yourself surrendering to his playfulness. slowly, you lift the hem of your shirt, and his gaze never leaves yours, following each movement with that quiet intensity that makes you feel like you’re the only thing in his world.

“happy now?” you ask, raising an eyebrow once the shirt is off and tossed to the side.

toji’s gaze trails over you, his smile widening. “mmm, much better,” he says, voice a low rumble. he reaches out, pulling you close until you’re practically lying on top of him, his hands resting lightly on your waist.

“now,” he whispers, his breath warm against your cheek, “about that private reading…”

“you mean, before the book tries to knock you out again?” you say, laughing softly as he grins.

“nah,” he replies, pulling you closer, voice softer now. “i think i’d rather hear it from you… no books, no pages. just us.” his hand slides up your back, his touch so familiar, so gentle, and suddenly, you’re not laughing anymore, just looking into his eyes, feeling like you’re in your own story, one that’s still being written.

“fine,” you whisper, resting your head on his shoulder as he holds you close, his fingers brushing through your hair. “i’ll read to you, toji. but only if you promise…” you pause, smirking, “not to bring out any more ‘dragon king’ moves.”

he chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “no promises,” he murmurs, voice warm and full of laughter.

you’re lost in the warmth of his embrace, melting into him as your lips meet, his hands firm on your waist, grounding you as you straddle him. skin to skin, chest to chest, heartbeats syncing — it's everything a newlywed morning should be. but then…

oh.

you feel it.

that very… unignorable reminder pressing insistently against you, and the realization hits like a lightning bolt, your face heating up as if someone turned the thermostat up to a hundred.

you swallow, suddenly very aware of the “problem” in question, and try your hardest to keep a straight face.

it’s not like this is new or anything. toji’s your husband. this is normal. completely normal. all husbands feel like this for their wives, right?

right.

but he’s… so unbothered. he doesn’t even hesitate, just keeps his hands on you, tracing slow circles along your back, his thumb brushing over your skin, his lips curling into a smirk like he knows exactly how much he’s affecting you. and maybe he does.

of course he does.

“toji,” you manage to whisper, barely holding it together, but he’s already looking at you with that lazy, smug grin, like you’re his personal sunrise, and he’s basking in every single second.

“you, uh… you sure you’re okay there?”

“me?” he raises an eyebrow, all innocence as he chuckles, his voice a warm, sleepy rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. “i’m more than okay, sweetheart. just enjoying my beautiful wife on our first morning as mr. and mrs. fushiguro.” he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your collarbone that’s entirely too distracting.

“besides,” he murmurs, lips brushing your skin, “i think you’re the one who’s a little… flustered.”

flustered? you?

“toji, you’ve got a —” you start, but he interrupts, grinning wickedly.

“a ‘normal human reaction’?” he teases, voice dropping to that smooth, low register that drives you crazy. “can’t help it when you’re this close. on top of me. looking like that.”

you cover your face with your hands, half-laughing, half-dying of embarrassment. “stop — oh my god, you’re insufferable.”

“and you love it,” he says, lifting your chin to meet his gaze. his eyes are soft, sincere, with a glint of mischief as he tilts his head. “what’s a husband supposed to do? just look at you? you make it real hard, y’know?”

he lets out a low laugh at your expression and then holds you tighter, his hands warm and steady on your waist.

“guess we’re not getting out of bed for a while, huh?”

you’re not sure what’s come over you — maybe it’s the morning sunlight streaming in, soft and hazy; maybe it’s the devilish little voice in your head nudging you forward.

but somehow, here you are, straddling your very, very surprised husband, taking matters (and his pants) into your own hands.

and, well, let’s just say you got a little… ambitious.

before you even have time to think, you’re, um… fully committed.

as in, no turning back.

as in, you’re in.

toji’s eyes go wide, his hands gripping your hips as if he’s trying to catch up to what’s happening. his breath hitches, his head falling back against the pillow, and he lets out something between a sob and what might be a moan.

his cheeks are flushed, his jaw tight, and for a second, he just stares up at you with a look that’s a mix of reverence and utter disbelief.

“you… y-you just… did you just — ?” he manages to stammer, the words catching in his throat, and suddenly, you’re the one who’s freaking out.

the reality of what you just did hits like a freight train, and you’re not prepared.

“uh… yes?” you squeak, as if you’re also trying to convince yourself. a nervous laugh escapes you. “i mean… yeah. i just… i thought… y’know, we’re married now, so… spontaneity?”

toji’s lips press into a shaky smile, his fingers tightening on your waist.

“spontaneity, huh?” he repeats, a breathless laugh bubbling up as he tries to process the situation. “damn, sweetheart, you really know how to keep a guy on his toes.”

your cheeks heat up, and you suddenly realize just how locked into this you are.

no backing out now, not when you’re quite literally in the thick of it.

“oh god,” you mutter, half to yourself. “did i just… did i seriously just yolo this?”

toji laughs, his thumb tracing comforting circles on your hip, his voice a little strained but warm as ever. “honestly? kind of the best ones of my life. but if you’re freaking out… we can take a breather.”

but there’s something in his gaze — something soft and genuine, with that signature spark of mischief — that steadies you a little. you take a breath, letting his presence calm your nerves.

and then, with a shaky smile, you lean down, pressing your forehead to his.

“just… don’t move too fast, okay?” you whisper, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

“you’re the boss, mrs. fushiguro,” he murmurs, voice low and tender, and he pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you, holding you steady. “locked and loaded… best way to start the day.”

you try to summon every ounce of confidence your heroines have ever possessed — the boldness, the sass, the sheer conviction that they know exactly what they're doing.

but here you are, completely frozen, caught somewhere between exhilaration and abject terror.

your mind is racing, but your body? not so much. you can’t seem to move.

and to make matters worse, there’s a tiny part of you that’s panicking, the same part that has you wiggling slightly as you try to find any semblance of control.

naturally, he notices, and, of course, he feels it, too.

toji’s eyes soften, his mouth curving into that warm, almost-too-perfect smile that always settles your nerves, and his hands move gently to your hips, steadying you with the barest of pressure. you’re not sure if he’s trying to keep you from falling apart or if he’s anchoring himself, too.

“hey,” he murmurs, voice warm and so steady it cuts through your internal chaos. “you don’t have to do anything, sweetheart. lemme take care of you.”

he tilts his head back to meet your eyes, and the softness in his gaze is almost enough to melt you.

“besides,” he teases, a wicked little glint appearing in his eyes, “the last thing i want is you remembering this as the morning you freaked out on top of me. that wouldn’t be fair to you, or, honestly… to me.”

you manage a shaky laugh, trying to focus on him rather than the tangle of nerves twisting in your stomach.

and maybe, just maybe, you can let go of your inner heroine pep talk just this once.

“okay…” you whisper, breath still catching, but there’s something in his touch that’s grounding you. “just… go slow?”

“yes ma’am.” his voice drops an octave, the promise of patience woven through every word, and his hands tighten just a little, guiding you with gentle confidence. he starts moving slowly, carefully, each motion more reassuring than the last. his thumb brushes your hip soothingly, grounding you.

“and remember,” he whispers, mouth brushing the corner of your mouth as he leans up, “i’m right here. always.”

you’re trying, really.

but, for all the research you’ve put into this exact scenario, it’s like your mind’s blanking out on everything.

front and back? sideways? or was it… circular? maybe up and down?

why is it that the one time you desperately need a mental slideshow, all your research notes abandon you?

to make matters worse, toji’s expression isn’t exactly helping. he’s looking at you with this mix of sheer desperation and restraint, like he’s teetering on the edge of losing it or… combusting.

maybe both.

“uh, toji,” you murmur, fingers trailing uncertainly on his chest as you try to read his reaction. “am i… doing this right?” you ask, half-joking, half-panicked, but mostly hoping for some kind of confirmation. or maybe a sign that you’re not about to ruin him.

toji’s eyes snap open a bit wider, and the sounds he makes are… well, hardly words.

more like a strangled, garbled mess of syllables that could pass for something between a moan and a mutter. he opens his mouth to say something and then just clenches his jaw, exhaling a shaky breath.

“babe…” he finally chokes out, voice rough. “whatever you’re doing… just… give me a sec, okay?”

you stifle a laugh, watching as his hands are balled so tight at his sides that they’re nearly shaking. it’s like he’s holding himself together by sheer willpower alone. you swear his knuckles might actually be going white.

he lets out a huff, like he’s trying to recite a grocery list or remember anything that isn’t the feel of you on top of him.

“satoru’s voice… that dumb soap commercial… yeah, yeah, there it is… ‘leaves you feeling fresh all day’... god help me,” he mutters under his breath.

“toji?” you can’t help it; you lean in, brushing your lips against his jaw as he swallows hard.

“i think i’ve broken you.”

his head tips back, a strained laugh breaking through as he fights to keep his cool.

“you… might just have,” he manages, voice rough around the edges, and there’s this flash of helplessness in his gaze that makes your heart skip.

“i’m doing that well, huh?” you smirk, feeling just the tiniest spark of confidence.

he groans, half in frustration, half in what sounds like pride. “yeah… yeah, you are,” he grits out.

“and if you move… in literally any direction right now, i’m not sure how much longer i can hold back.”

you take a moment to consider, still a little nervous, but now definitely encouraged by the effect you seem to be having on him.

“well,” you whisper, “you’re my husband now. i think that means we can both… figure this out together.”

he looks up at you, that steady, determined look in his eyes, as he exhales another shaky breath.

“then let’s figure it out,” he murmurs, voice softer now, but still brimming with that intensity.

his hands finally settle on your hips, steadying you as he starts guiding you slowly, deliberately, and the careful rhythm he sets feels like it’s easing all that tension out of both of you.

“god… toji,” you murmur, feeling every little shift and movement as he keeps you close, never rushing, always guiding.

“that’s right, sweetheart,” he says, his tone softening as he takes his time with you. “we’ve got all the time in the world.”

while toji is supposedly the one who should have all the experience here, somehow you’re the one taking charge — leading the pace, finding a rhythm, and honestly, feeling a little like some overconfident cowgirl until you remember, oh right, this is toji fushiguro, not some wild bronco.

okay, maybe ease up on the cowgirl image, you mentally scold yourself, trying to stay focused.

but that confidence you’re feeling? it’s dangerous. because just as you settle into this boldness, feeling like you’ve got things under control, toji lets out a whimper.

your eyes fly open, heart practically stopping in your chest.

oh no.

was that a sound of pain?

did you somehow… break him?

wait, is it even possible to damage internal organs like this?

“toji…?” you ask, almost scared to hear the answer.

he lifts his head a little, looking dazed and half-lost, his breathing heavy, eyes hazy with disbelief as he mutters,

“y-you’re…” he doesn’t even finish, just closes his eyes, head falling back as another broken whimper slips out.

and then it hits you.

oh.

“you… you like this?” you ask, almost stunned. the idea that you’re the one making him sound like that?

the thought is so potent it makes you feel a rush of something warm and… yeah, okay, powerful.

he’s barely able to respond, his hands gripping your hips now, knuckles white as he nods, lips parted in another helpless gasp as he tries and fails to keep his cool.

“don’t… stop,” he finally chokes out, like he’s barely hanging on.

“oh, trust me, i’m not going anywhere,” you whisper, heart racing. and now there’s this little thrill lighting you up from the inside out, because every tiny movement is pulling more helpless little sounds from him, his restraint finally slipping.

toji’s voice is so rough, barely holding it together as he grits out, “you’re killing me, sweetheart… god…”

“well,” you manage, barely keeping your own composure, “it’s only fair, right? after all the times you’ve done this to me?”

he lets out another shaky exhale, clearly struggling, and for a second you’re genuinely worried he might just combust completely.

“y-you really think… you’re doing me in, huh?”

you raise a brow, smirking despite yourself. “you sound like you’re the one struggling here.”

he laughs breathlessly, like he can hardly believe it, before he pulls you close, one hand cupping the back of your neck.

“struggling?” he murmurs, his voice low and full of promise. “i’m just letting you have your fun before i flip us over and show you exactly who’s in charge here.”

your heart does a somersault. because the thrill of this playful push and pull, of seeing him finally lose control?

that’s the best way to start any morning.

toji’s brain is on a full-blown rollercoaster right now, and not in the way he’d imagined.

he’d thought he’d be calm, collected, the man in control, ready to take his time with you and make this morning something sweet and a little filthy, just like you’d always hinted at.

he’d be the one setting the scene, the one doing all the work, the one guiding you gently, like he’d dreamed about doing ever since you let him in on that side of your writing.

he even had a whole monologue rehearsed in his head last night: “to my parents, my friends, and any god who’s listening, thank you for giving me this beautiful woman to love, a girl with fire in her veins and creativity for days.”

he’d planned on simple, soft kisses, with lots of praise to make you feel adored, even throw in a little dirty talk, just like in your books.

he’d thought about quoting a line or two back at you for fun — maybe one from that chapter you wrote where the dragon king says, “you’re all mine tonight, and you’ll feel every inch of me, i promise.”

but now?

all that’s gone out the window, because here you are, on top of him, taking the lead with confidence, and he’s losing his mind.

every time he tries to open his mouth, all he can get out is a strangled groan, and it’s doing something to him he wasn’t expecting.

he can barely recognize himself; the words he’d so carefully picked out are just… gone. every time you shift, it’s like his thoughts scatter to the wind, replaced by pure, helpless need.

he wants to tell you, wants to let you know how much he loves this, loves you, how insane you’re driving him, but all that comes out is a barely-coherent mess of sounds, and it hits him that you’re not just in control of his body — you’ve completely stolen his mind, too.

“i… god, i thought i was supposed to be the one teaching you…” he finally manages to whisper, half in awe, half in defeat.

you smirk, that little gleam in your eye sending a shiver down his spine. “thought you liked a surprise every now and then?”

and all he can do is nod, a dazed look in his eyes.

because in this moment, he realizes he’d gladly give up every carefully planned word, every practiced move, just to feel like this forever: utterly and completely wrapped around your finger, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

the second toji feels your movements stutter, that telltale shiver coursing through you, he knows exactly what’s happening.

and oh, he’s not about to let you handle all that on your own.

in one smooth, effortless motion, he flips you onto your back, settling himself on top of you with a grin that’s downright devilish. his muscles flex as he moves, every bit of that gym routine paying off in real time.

“thought i’d take over, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice low and husky, his words wrapping around you like velvet. “just… seemed like you could use a little help.”

you meet his gaze, already breathless, but the excitement bubbling inside you is impossible to ignore.

“oh, you’re taking over now?” you tease, your hands resting on his strong shoulders, gripping tight, letting him feel the way your fingers tremble slightly. "go on then, show me what you got."

his eyes darken, and the heat between you intensifies as he lowers himself, pressing a line of kisses along your neck that makes your whole body tingle.

"you don’t have to tell me twice,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with that rough, familiar affection, every word sending a thrill straight to your core.

with every frantic movement, every desperate thrust, he’s thoroughly reminding you that this is his world, and you’re just lucky to be living in it.

the tension that had been building inside you starts winding tighter again, and you feel like you’re seconds away from cumming. every nerve is on fire, and his name escapes your lips like a prayer, like you’re as completely lost in him as he is in you.

“that’s it, just like that,” he whispers, his tone full of encouragement, his breath warm against your ear. “i want you to feel everything, sweetheart.”

and with the way he’s moving, with the heat and the energy building between you, you don’t doubt for a second that he’s going to make good on that promise.

you're clinging to him, legs wrapped tightly around his waist, arms tangled around his neck like you’re in some intense love-drunk wrestling hold, and you’re this close, teetering on the edge.

you have no idea what to do with all that emotion bubbling up inside — are you supposed to say something? shout something? last time, when he went down on you, you practically screeched, and that memory alone is enough to make you blush in embarrassment.

but, you’re different now, classier, you tell yourself.

totally changed.

so instead, you lean up, press your lips to his ear, and let out a quiet, garbled, “i love you.”

toji goes still for a fraction of a second — barely a heartbeat — but it’s long enough for you to feel it: he wasn’t ready for that. it’s a sneak attack, and you see his face shift, his eyes going wide for just a moment before the heat in them intensifies, pure, raw emotion flooding in. you feel his whole body respond to those three words, and just as you think yes, i’ve got him, you realize he’s already cumming.

finished, before he even had a chance to let out a coherent response. he’s so stunned that he just mutters, “fuck,” breathless and hoarse, the word barely forming on his lips.

you can’t help but laugh, voice filled with a mix of triumph and disbelief. “wow, that got you, huh?” you tease, brushing a hand through his hair, feeling all the tension melt from his body as he tries to catch his breath. “and here you thought you had it all planned out.”

he huffs, pulling you even closer, his forehead resting against yours, that familiar smirk creeping back into place despite the flush on his cheeks.

“never underestimate the power of a writer,” he murmurs, voice deep and warm. “especially when her words pack one hell of a punch.”

and you grin, sinking into the feeling of having completely swept him off his feet, knowing full well he wouldn’t want it any other way.

toji’s lying there in post-bliss, still catching his breath, when it hits him harder than any of gojo’s early-morning, glass-shattering shrieks: he just took his wife’s v-card.

he’s your first.

and then it all unravels, one chaotic revelation after another — he just came inside you.

came inside you.

and wait, oh hell, were you even on any contraception?

his eyes widen in a near-panic, and he can feel his pulse skyrocketing again, but this time it’s not from excitement.

he remembers how much you love kids — yeah, kids. specifically, one kid. megumi. did you two even talk about adding more to that tally?

“uh, babe…” he starts, pulling away as gently as possible. he ignores the mess and all sense of grace as he practically scrambles to his feet, hurriedly grabbing the first thing he can to clean you up, which turns out to be some spare tissues by the bed.

you blink up at him, a bit dazed but smiling, that look of total contentment on your face. but it just makes him panic more.

“are… are you okay?” he asks, voice a bit too frantic. he’s cleaning you up with a gentleness that feels oddly out of character, his hands trembling just slightly as he checks you over, his fingers brushing your cheek, your arm, like he’s making sure you’re really, truly okay. “do you feel… i dunno, uh… like, rested? like, you’re good, right? not too sore?”

you let out a soft laugh, reaching up to cup his cheek. “i’m fine, toji. actually, i’m more than fine,” you say, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone, and his heart does that stupid skip thing again. he can’t let himself get sidetracked, though.

“oh, that’s good — really good.” he nods, grabbing the water bottle that’s somehow on his nightstand, a red iron man one. “here, drink this.” he uncaps it, nudging it toward your lips. “hydrate and all.”

you stare at the bottle for a second, blinking.

“is that… ‘gumi’s iron man bottle?”

“i don’t know, and i don’t care right now. just drink,” he says, pushing it toward you with a kind of determination, and you obediently take a few sips, though you’re clearly trying not to laugh.

after a few swallows, you pull back, wiping your lips. “toji, relax. you’re the one who told me to trust you, right?”

he’s rubbing the back of his neck now, a bit embarrassed but mostly still caught up in his thoughts. “yeah, well, i didn’t think that…” he trails off, looking at the mess on the sheets with an almost horrified expression.

“i just… we didn’t talk about… kids.”

you tilt your head, giving him a soft look. “toji, do you want kids?”

he runs a hand through his hair, that panic settling into something softer. “i mean, i’m good with megs, y’know? he’s… he’s all i need, but… it’s not like i’d be against it.” he shifts, the vulnerability clear in his eyes. “just… wanted to make sure that’s what you wanted, too.”

you reach for his hand, pulling him back down beside you, a reassuring smile on your face. “we can figure that out together. maybe we don’t know everything yet, but that’s okay. we’ve got time, don’t we?”

he lets out a sigh, relief flooding through him as he squeezes your hand. “yeah, yeah we do. i guess i just… never thought i’d get to do this. to be… a real family, with you.”

“toji,” you murmur, leaning in close, pressing your forehead to his. “you already gave me everything i could ever want. whether it’s just you and me, or us and megumi… or more.”

he lets out a chuckle, feeling lighter as he finally lets himself relax. “alright, alright. just don’t scare me like that, okay?” he mumbles, reaching for the blanket to cover you both up again.

and as he lies back down beside you, he can’t help the soft smile that spreads across his face.

two years had flown by since that whirlwind of a wedding, and life with toji and megumi had settled into a heartwarming, beautifully chaotic rhythm.

megumi, now ten , was in a phase where he’d scoff and roll his eyes at anything even remotely ‘ kiddish ,’ claiming he was far too mature for that stuff now.

but you’d caught glimpses of that little boy spark in him — a reminder that he hadn’t fully shed his innocence yet.

like the time you’d spent an entire evening painstakingly building a lego dragon together, a complicated model that had you and toji squinting at the manual with a kind of warrior resolve.

where toji groaned, half-buried in tiny plastic pieces. “this better be the last one, kiddo, or your mama and i are gonna turn into dragons ourselves,” he muttered, piecing together the dragon’s intricate scales.

megumi tried to act indifferent, leaning back with an exaggerated sigh. “well, i don’t need it. dragons are kinda… whatever .”

but the moment the final piece snapped into place, his face lit up with such unguarded delight, and he stared at the completed dragon, almost in awe.

“actually… it’s kinda cool,” he mumbled, tracing the wings with his finger.

and then there was the iron man phase.

just last week, you had surprised him with a new iron man action figure — the latest model that even he, the ‘ oh-so-mature ’ ten-year-old, had been subtly eyeing. he’d accepted it with a feigned shrug, muttering something about it being ‘ okay ,’ but later you found him arranging his collection on his shelf with utmost care, placing iron man front and center.

today was a new milestone, though. suguru, ever the romantic, had finally invited his elusive business partner and the woman he was head over heels for: the famed mrs. ryomen , founder of persephone wines, accompanied by none other than her husband, ryomen sukuna . their wine brands were renowned globally, their rivalry and partnership like something out of a novel, and, unsurprisingly, satoru never shut up about how good the wines were.

the moment you laid eyes on her, you understood why suguru was so smitten. she was a vision of grace — calm, poised, with an elegance that felt both timeless and grounded. her wisdom was palpable, like she’d seen the world and learned from it, carrying that understanding effortlessly.

and beside her was sukuna, a towering figure, his presence demanding attention without a single word. he wore his reputation as the industry’s most formidable businessman like a second skin, but there was a softness in his eyes whenever he glanced at his wife.

and trailing beside them, in her adorable little dress and with a wide, mischievous smile, was their five-year-old daughter, aiko. she looked exactly like her mother but had that unmistakable devious glint in her eyes — the unmistakable ryomen charm that came with a penchant for trouble.

aiko spotted megumi almost immediately, her eyes lighting up as she sized him up with that daring grin. without a second’s hesitation, she skipped over, standing tall in front of him as if ready for a duel.

“you’re megumi, right?” she asked, her hands on her hips.

megumi nodded, looking slightly intimidated but also oddly impressed. “uh… yeah? ”

“my daddy says you’re gonna be tall like him someday,” she announced with a challenging gleam. “but i think i’ll still be cooler.”

toji, watching the exchange, chuckled, leaning down to you. “she’s got the ryomen spirit, alright. poor suguru, he’s in for a lifetime of keeping up.”

suguru, who had been watching from the sidelines, gave an almost weary smile. “don’t remind me. she’s just like her dad, which is… terrifying.”

over the course of the evening, satoru found every possible opportunity to rave about the wine, which led to a slightly tipsy serenade of praise to both persephone and ryomen wines.

suguru shook his head, but you caught the faintest hint of pride in his eyes as satoru loudly professed, “the best wine on earth, right here! what did i do in my past life to deserve this ?”

“satoru, we get it,” shoko laughed, patting his shoulder. “but maybe save some of your poetic speeches for the actual wine reps?”

sukuna, stoic as ever, cracked the smallest smirk. “better listen to her, gojo, or next time you’re paying double for every bottle.”

at this, megumi tugged at your hand, pulling you down so he could whisper in your ear, “do you think they’re like… superheroes? like, fancy business ones? ”

you grinned, whispering back, “maybe, but the kind that save people’s sanity after long days with a good glass of wine.”

as the night wore on, aiko became bolder, challenging megumi to little games and teasing him whenever he pretended to be unimpressed.

by the end, they were both racing around, megumi begrudgingly admitting that maybe having a ‘ little kid ’ around wasn’t the worst thing ever.

and you, watching your little found family and newfound friends all mingling, felt a sense of peace settle over you. life had changed so much, yet, with every piece that had fallen into place, it felt more complete than ever.

toji slid his hand into yours, his thumb brushing softly over your knuckles. “so,” he murmured, nodding towards the crowd of laughing, chatting, slightly inebriated friends, “how’s forever treating you?”

you squeezed his hand back, leaning into his warmth. “with you? it’s perfect .”

— [epilogue]

megumi adjusted the microphone, clearing his throat as he began his podcast. the familiar red recording light blinked on, and for a moment, he hesitated.

but then, that cool, low voice of his rolled out — completely unaware of just how many listeners were tuned in because of that very voice.

“hey, everyone,” he started, with a slight, almost embarrassed laugh. “it’s megumi. welcome back to another episode. thanks for sticking around, i guess.”

he took a deep breath, leaning into his usual deadpan humor. “today’s a little… special.”

eight years had passed, and megumi was now eighteen, on the verge of starting college. you never could have imagined that the quiet, reserved little boy who once scowled at anything that wasn’t cool enough would be sitting here, in gojo-sonic’s recording studio, with a podcast following that had skyrocketed in the last few months - his own little corner of the internet was a hit.

it was always a little surreal, hearing him speak like that — like an old pro — though megumi had no idea just how attractive his voice was.

you’d caught snippets of his episodes in passing, and honestly, you were floored. it had that raw, emo, mysterious vibe that made his fans swoon.

but megumi didn’t care much for that. he just liked talking.

talking about whatever came to mind, whether it was the state of the world or random deep thoughts about dragons (which his viewers loved).

he paused for a second, then smirked. “so, apparently, it’s the anniversary of the sequel to my mama’s infamous ‘mating with the dragon king’ series, which is, uh…” he chuckled under his breath. “a title i try not to think too hard about, for my own sanity.”

he glanced at his notes, mentally preparing himself for the rest. “but it’s also my parents’ anniversary. they’ve been together a long time now, and honestly, i think they’ve aged pretty well… if not gotten weirder, too.”

"okay, so first things first," megumi continued, tapping his fingers against the mic like he was thinking.

"i’ve been asked a lot recently — yeah, like a lot — about my parents. so, i thought today, i’d… well, talk about them. for those who don’t know, my mom and dad are basically the best couple on the planet."

he paused for a moment, a rare smirk tugging at his lips. "and no, i’m not just saying that because they pay my college tuition," he added, voice dry, before laughing lightly. the subtle humor, that ever-present dry wit of his, had not been lost over the years.

“i’m serious, though,” megumi continued, his tone shifting slightly. “they’ve been married almost ten years now. ten years. that’s a long time, right? you know, the stuff i’ve seen them go through — good and bad — has honestly been like watching a rom-com… without the cheesy music. it’s real.”

he leaned back, grinning at the memory of his dad attempting to act cool when his mom gave him the anniversary gift she’d obviously poured her heart into, and how his dad pretended to brush it off while trying not to tear up.

“i swear, my dad still thinks he’s the heartthrob he was in his youth… not that he’ll admit he ever thought that.”

a comment from the live chat caught his eye, and he read it aloud with a half-smile, “how are the lovebirds doing these days?”

“they’re… good,” he answered, a little softer, before laughing. “honestly, they’re like teenagers sometimes. last week, i caught them dancing to “dancing queen” in the kitchen at, like, two in the morning. my mama insisted they were ‘practicing their moves.’”

another comment rolled in: “is it true they started dating because of ‘mating with the dragon king’?”

megumi groaned, rubbing his forehead.

“okay, so — yes, my mama’s… work may or may not have been involved in them getting together. which, by the way, is mortifying, but what can you do?”

he continued, “so yeah, every year, around this time, they go through the book again. they claim it’s just to, i don’t know, ‘relive the magic,’ or whatever. but personally, i think it’s just their excuse to laugh over the old cheesy lines and then get all sappy.” his voice softened, and you could hear the fondness there. “it’s… it’s cute, actually.”

as he sifted through more questions, a few regulars in the chat started asking about his dad’s influence on the podcast.

“so… ‘like father, like son,’ huh?” he repeated aloud. “you all know my dad, toji fushiguro. he’s been a big reason i’m doing this at all. every week he tunes in and listens, usually making some snide comment about my ‘emo’ voice.” he chuckled.

“but, like, he’s my biggest fan. it’s… weird. and kinda awesome.”

megumi leaned closer to the mic, as if sharing a secret. “sometimes he even gives me topic ideas, and he likes to pretend he’s all smooth about it. last week he was like, ‘hey, you ever think about doing an episode on… i don’t know, how to handle annoying old guys? just… putting it out there.’”

megumi rolled his eyes. “yeah, thanks, dad.”

one listener asked, “so, are your parents tuning in today?”

megumi laughed. “oh, you better believe it. mama’s probably listening right now, making little notes about everything she’s going to tease me for later. and dad? he’s probably lounging around, acting all nonchalant, but hanging onto every word. he never says it, but… he’s proud. he just shows it in weird, dad ways.”

you, sitting in the living room across the house, smiled to yourself. you and toji hadn’t missed an episode of his podcast, even if megumi was often too cool to tell you exactly what he was talking about on-air.

this was your son, the one who swore he'd never be like you two, now waxing poetic about your love life. you had to admit, it felt like a win.

you couldn't help but chuckle as you leaned over to toji, who was sprawled on the couch, casually scrolling through his phone. “he doesn’t even realize how much he sounds like you.”

toji grinned, looking up from his phone. “i know. ’m proud, honestly. the kid’s got my voice, and he’s got a knack for talking like a damn pro.”

then, someone commented, “do they still do their anniversary dinner tradition?”

“yeah, every year without fail,” he said with a warm smile. “they go to this little bar where they first met. same table, same drinks….it’s a whole thing. and they always make sure to bring something dragon-themed as, like, an inside joke.”

“is it true you used to help pick out those dragon anniversary gifts?”

“uh, yeah, when i was a kid, i’d help out. it started with this silly little dragon keychain i got from a claw machine. my mama loved it, and dad pretended it was the best thing ever. and now… it’s just something they do. last year, we found this ridiculously tacky dragon-shaped candle holder. they loved it, of course.”

he paused, watching the flood of hearts and happy emojis on the screen. “honestly, seeing them still be so… them, even after all these years — it’s kinda awesome.”

as the comments continued to pour in, he couldn’t help but smile. “you know, when i was younger, i thought all of it was a little much. but now, i think… it’s cool. like, really cool, to have two people who just… get each other, and who make life fun. like, i might roll my eyes, but i wouldn’t trade them for anything.”

“anyway, that’s enough of the mushy stuff,” megumi added with a huff, trying to shake off the softness that had crept into his voice. “the point is, they’ve been together for a decade, and they still act like they’re in their honeymoon phase. but they’re both ridiculous, so whatever works, right?”

one final comment caught his eye: “do you ever think about finding a love like theirs?”

megumi laughed, leaning back in his chair. “i don't really know if I’ll ever be that kind of couple — that couple who looks at each other like it's just… meant to be. but honestly? i kinda hope i do. 'cause if that’s what they’ve got, i want it too. who knows?”

there was a beat of silence before megumi sighed, clearly awkward with what he’d just said.

"alright, that’s enough of the sappy stuff. let’s move on to today's topic of… superhero movies."

the episode cut into a new segment, but not before you could hear megumi’s voice soften again.

“but if i do… you guys will be the first to hear about it. after all, i learned from the best.”

you pressed a hand to your chest, feeling an overwhelming swell of love for your son. despite all his protests, the way he spoke about you and toji just now? it was more than a little heartwarming.

“ten years, huh?” toji said softly, his voice carrying that familiar warmth. “you think we’ve gotten better with age, or are we just getting more ridiculous?”

you leaned your head on his shoulder, chuckling softly. “i’d say both. we’re definitely more ridiculous. but i’m pretty sure we’re still just as in love as we were on day one.”

toji smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

back in the recording room, megumi wrapped up the episode with his usual quiet flair, and just as he was about to sign off, he added,

"to all the people listening out there — especially the ones who think i'm some kind of “emo, angsty mess” — you’re not wrong. but hey, thanks for sticking around. and shoutout to mama and dad… for being the real heroes of this fushiguro life.”

you heard the final click of the microphone turning off, and you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell once again, knowing that your little family, in all its weird, loving chaos, was exactly where it needed to be.

168 notes · View notes

simp-ly-writes · 3 months ago

Text

Recap, Rewind, Fast-Forward

─────── · · The Comment Section (pt.3.5)

Pairing: Spencer Agnew x gn!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: A recap of everything; the people and moments in your life recently. A rewind to reminice on how many years you and spencer have known one another. And a fast-forward on what is to come in your life in becoming a movie-star.

─ · · TAGS: gender-neutral pronouns, jealous!Spencer, angst, social media au, attempt at comedy, slowburn, light swearing, fluff, mutual pinning, irl celebrities, friends that act like lovers, friends/lovers.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | PART TWO | PATH THREE | PART FOUR

─ · · A/N: thank you so much for this ask, anon! post number 200 for me yippee!

─────── · ·

RECAP: 🔔 (name)s_username just posted for the first time in awhile.

Liked by co_mill, spennser, sydney_sweeney, and others

(name)s_username how things have been going...

View all 7,342 comments

spennser i demand a rematch.

↳ (name)s_username accept the truth and let me be better at something than you ↳ spennser you are better than me in many ways ↳ (name)s_username okay then, name some. ↳ spennser you are smarter, funnier, prettier, kinder, and are way better at uno and table tennis than me ↳ (name)s_username shut up now please 😃 ↳ noahgrossman214 so this was what had you blushing earlier... ↳ (name)s_username you too, shut up now please 😃 ↳ username44 they are perfect together, your honour. ↳ username21 (yourshipname) forever!

username01 I am so in love with you (and spencer).

username54 so excited to watch the film!

sydney_sweeney thank you for making me look cute! 🥰

↳ (name)s_username you always look cute, my lover ❤️ ↳ sydney_sweeney 😘

username33 get a life. work a real job like the rest of us.

co_mill marry me.

↳ (name)s_username yes. ↳ shaynetopp what the hell man! ↳ spennser yeah, what the hell man! comment deleted by user ↳ glen_powell they are canonically my spouse first! ↳ (name)s_username i'll always love you, first husband ❤️ (throuple?) ↳ glen_powell throuple ❤️ ↳ co_mil throuple ❤️ ↳ username54 spencer really has me out here crying over instagram comments 😭

username27 I aspire to be as cool as you 😔

username11 watched the apology video, I forgive you!

username88 please be in more videos with Damien, I love your dynamics!

username19 did anyone manage to see spencers deleted comment?

─────── · ·

REWIND: 🔔 This post is getting a lot of likes, check it out!

Liked by spennser, ianhecox, shaynetopp and others

(name)s_username crazy it is to think I met you 12 years ago, here's to another 12 and then some my best friend ❤️

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spennser wouldn't have made it this far without you 🫶

↳ (name)s_username same goes to you 🫶 ↳ spennser 😊 ↳ (name)s_username 😊 ↳ username01 i am going feral over here, gnawing at the gates.

username23 new (yourshipname) lore just dropped! they met in college?!?!?

username45 thank you (name) for supplying us with new spencer images!

username32 going to find a bridge, wish me luck 🤞

username50 sobbing, crying, throwing up. /positive

ianhecox one of my favorite duos

↳ (name)s_username could never beat you and anthony though 😄 ↳ anthonypadilla i think we are in different competition brackets... ↳ (yourshipname)updates 👀 the tea! the shade!

username90 there is NO WAY you two have been pining after each other that long. how're you both still alive and functioning??

username22 if this is the only type of anniversary we are ever going to receive from you two, i will accept it with a heavy heart.

co_mill love you two!

username74 OMG they are getting married and nobody thought to tell me!!

↳ username01 we wish 😭 they are just celebrating their friendship here, nothing romantic (yet)...

username07 he is so fucking cute, (name) is you don't want him, let me at him!!!

─────── · ·

REWIND: 🔔 You got tagged in spennser's post. click to view.

Liked by (name)s_username, noahgrossman214 and others

spennser 12 years went by way too quickly with you.

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mobile_suit_alex you and me don't have a friendship anniversary 😔

↳ username99 tell me about awkward... 😬 ↳ username14 rip. ↳ spennser we can make something work 👍

(name)s_username I can't believe it either 😆

(name)s_username play lego star wars later? 🫶

↳ spennser hell yeah. 🫶

username39 please kiss already, everyone knows you want to.

username17 we might see GTA 6 before spencer and (name) get together, i don't like this timeline.

angelagiovanagiarratana you guys are so darn cute, i want to eat it 😤

filmingamanda lowkey jealous.

↳ username12 join the party! ↳ username43 we have been here

username84 NO! You both don't get to hold each other and call it "just-friends!" I am officially calling you and (name) out!

username15 someone hold me like that, please. it would fix me.

username19 anyone else raising eyebrows to that last pic?

username61 spencer be holding on for dear life fr.

smoshgames we are so happy for our parents!

↳ spennser i thought i told you guys not to use the account for things like this ↳ smoshgames sorry not sorry, boss! 🏃‍♂️💨 ↳ anthonypadilla i thought i was dad? ↳ username22 i can't with these comments 🤣

username68 can't wait to watch your boyfriend/girlfriend go kiss a bunch of hot people on the big screen! 😄

username39 SCREAMING FROM THE TOP OF MY LUNGS.

username01 i like to think that last picture is spencer being jealous over some comments and wanting to prove a point mwahahahha!!

↳ (youshipname)updates yes, please! feed the delusions!! ↳ username71 i love fan-canons, i love this community ❤️

username57 make more content. i am bored.

─────── · ·

FAST-FORWARD: 🔔 (name)s_username just posted, check it out!

Liked by sydney_sweeney, glen_powell, and others

(name)s_username sneak peak: kisses! we are almost done filming now, so excited for you all to see it 🥹

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sydney_sweeney you know, i'm not too happy with that last shot. want to try that scene again? 😉

↳ (name)s_username 😳 o-oh? ↳ glen_powell i'm left out again, i swear you two- ↳ (name)s_username you love us both, who are you kidding 😘 ↳ glen_powell well, I can't deny that 🫶 ↳ username22 HEY!! 😡 that hand-heart is spencer and (name)'s thing!

username67 is this a car accident? because i can't look away!

username88 so, nobody on smosh is saying anything?? okay then...

chickenshopdate i am formally asking you out.

↳ (name)s_username yes ma'am! 🫡

Sonypictures see the full scenes of sydney_sweeney, glen_powell, and (name)s_username this winter!

↳ username99 what happened to the holiday release? ↳ Sonypicture hi username99! filming has processed a lot faster than planned and we want this movie to have its own time to shine with little competition. ↳ username50 hey- the sooner i can watch this- the better!

romcom_interviews i think i need a cold shower after these pictures, oh shoot! wrong account!

username70 i can't stand all these promotional accounts trying to act funny, like get out of my feed.

username36 I LOVE U (NAME), PLEASE CAN WE HAVE CHILDREN?

↳ username07 well, at least they were polite about it...

username31 I am having emotional whiplash. 😣

username01 (name) really be out here living like (y/n).

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: something a bit different, what did you all think? thank you all for the support on every part so far- means a lot to me and makes me want to write more! what are you looking for to in the next part?

─ · · TAGLIST: @lisiliely

226 notes · View notes

arminsumi · 1 year ago

Text

SAKURA.

𝐆. 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 — 五条悟 ⋅ fem reader

NOTE: i really liked this idea and merged it with my little daydream of Gojo being in his clan and meeting you in a small village (like before he moved to the city or something) and tweaked it just a lil bit if that's ok!! i hope i delivered, and mwa ty for your request lovely anon i hope i got it all right, enjoyyy 💐

REQUEST: Can you pls write gojo who gets the Hanahaki disease cause of reader and gojos condition worsens so to keep the strongest alive the higher ups set up an arranged marriage with reader (her mission is to love gojo so he doesn’t die but she is defensive and uncooperative at first) but then she warms up to gojo (he does everything to make her happy) and they both live happily ever after 😭💕

SUMMARY — you meet a boy on a Taiko-bashi as a child. Little did you know, he was the prodigal son of the Gojo clan, and you would be married into that family to save his life.

WARNINGS — heavy angst to fluffy fluff, he steals ur first kiss, domestic life with ur kid Megumi at the end <3 😭, unrequited -> requited love, arranged marriage, quite a lot of blood/bloody flower mentions, disease/afflicted with coughing spells (see about the fictional Hanahaki disease here. Basically u cough up flowers and/or throw up full flowers if it gets life-threatening), poor boy almost dies, there’s a scene where it’s insinuated that he throws up a full flower, some teasing/playfulness yk the usual you'd expect from gojo, lmk if i have missed a warning thank u

WORDCOUNT ≈ 4.3k

PLAY ME ♪ bouquet — Ichiko Aoba

🍒 𝐉𝐚𝐲 — サクランボ ⋅ 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 !

When you were seven, a boy a few years older than you – perhaps two or three – passed you by on a Taiko-bashi in a small village. You remember him as the boy with peculiar eyes and white hair who looked back at you on the bridge. In your eyes, it was a very ordinary encounter with a very extraordinary looking stranger.

But in his infinitely blue eyes, there was ingrained a more meaningful and vivid memory of that encounter. He held it very close to his heart. When you and he made that brief eye contact as he looked behind his shoulder, slowing at his mother’s side, he felt a windswept, lovestruck feeling come over him. He batted his pretty lashes at you and stopped walking for a fleeting moment, as if captivated, and then went his separate way with the image of your face burned into the forefront of his mind. His kimono fluttered as he tended to walk in a gliding manner.

When you were fourteen, the same encounter happened again. A familiarly pale face with barely grown-in features looked back at you – his whole body felt a twinge of excitement. He only took one small moment to look at you and yet knew you were the same girl he saw as a child on this very same bridge.

Years went by, and the two of you kept encountering each other at peculiar times in your lives at that same bridge. Neither of you spoke to each other once, well, you didn’t say a word – but he uttered a few boyishly desperate greetings and even bowed as he glided past you to try and get your attention. If only you would have stopped for a chat, the poor boy would have given anything for that.

In some way, it felt like the two of you knew each other, though it was only your eyes that ever talked.

Come your eighteenth birthday, you were burdened with awful news. You were to be married to a man you had never met – someone from the Gojo clan. That person was apparently fatally sick with a disease you had scarce knowledge on. You asked your friend at the time, her name you’ve long forgotten by now, about Hanahaki and all she said was;

“Your lover is going to spit flowers in your face.”

You scrunched your nose up in disgust and confusion at this. A very silly image formed in your mind about the disease ever since your old friend had said that – all you could imagine was your future husband spitting saliva-wettened, half-destroyed flowers at your face.

The Gojo family and your family had always distantly known each other, hence all the visits to the village that they resided in. Your marriage to Gojo was long-debated throughout the years – yet neither you nor him knew anything about it. Neither of you prospected marriage, you were just the two strangers that passed each other on the Taiko-bashi every time the Sakura was in bloom.

The first time you and the son of the Gojo clan were introduced, it had already begun with a rocky start. You walked in when he had been overwhelmed with a coughing fit, and you were hushed back outside. The shoji door smacked shut behind you, and you heard sickly coughs piercing through the translucent sheets. When your future husband stopped coughing, and the blood and petals were cleaned up, you were brought back into the room. There were both your families and some important-looking officials in the large room, all formally sat on the tatami mats with mixed expressions. His mother seemed delighted at the sight of your face – but not more than her son.

Gojo Satoru, an eighteen-year-old at the time, with usually such a loud mouth and good joke up his sleeve, was rendered speechless when you had walked into the room. He analysed and absorbed every feature that made up the image of what he thought was the most charming and alluring creature ever to exist. Definitely a creature, he thought as you formally bowed with him, because no human could possess such an ethereal beauty.

Satoru was intrigued by you from your encounter on the Taiko-bashi, but when he was finally introduced to you he was utterly captivated.

The reasons and conditions for your marriage with the Gojo clan’s prodigal son conflicted with your strong beliefs in love and romance. You had rather aggressively told the poor boy your opinions in the days leading up to your wedding.

“I always thought,” you emphasized with a snotty tone, yet he listened to you like one would listen to the tranquil flow of the river under the Taiko-bashi, “that I would marry someone I loved, and not be forced to love…” you seemed so disappointed with how your life was turning out, that he couldn’t help but feel a bit bad for you.

“I’m a positive person, I have faith that you’ll fall in love with me in no time.” He said cheekily and winked at you. You felt very taken aback by such straight-forward flirting – you must understand, no boys in your village ever did that. They were very proper, even reserved.

He was almost charming in that instant, but then he added; “Who wouldn’t fall in love with me?”

At the time he was so full of himself that you could hardly believe there was space for any petals in his body. But there certainly was – when you left him alone in that room and stormed off, appalled by his conceit, he clutched the side of the door frame and coughed up little pink petals – enough to comprise three whole flowers.

It started worrying him, a few days before the wedding, when he started coughing more often. And not just that, but he started coughing up more petals than he had ever in his life. The peculiar disease had started during a time in his childhood that was coincidentally very close to the time he first passed you by on the bridge.

The night before the wedding, he laid in bed and brooded. And he was never the type to brood – he let life happen and moved on relatively easily. But he brooded, and brooded until it felt like he sunk so deep into his futon that he became one with it. The ceiling blurred.

What was going to happen if you didn’t fall in love?

That thought scared him so much that he violently drove it out of his mind and replaced it with an ideal daydream; he envisioned you and him cuddled up, bracing each other’s bodies, and melting into each other like real lovers do. He imagined you would be warmer than him, with that cool touch he had, and you would also stroke his hair. It was very fluffy, he made sure to point that out to you several times – but you never took a hint.

On the day of your wedding, he snuck to meet you just before the ceremony. He was crouched in the garden outside the room that you were preparing in. It’s then when he heard you voice your feelings to whoever it was helping you get ready.

“How can I love a stranger? And anyways, he is so full of himself, I can hardly believe there’s space for any flowers in there. There’s nothing I like about him.”

“Oh, Y/n, you have yet to learn about him. I’m sure you will find he’s rather charming. He is the pride of the Gojo clan, after all – he has the Six Eyes and Limitless. He’s the strongest, he’ll always be able to protect you – ”

It sounded like the woman talking about him was your mother, with how she praised him so much. She was right, Gojo thought; he could protect you from anything.

His expression was grave after hearing your thoughts. But he put on a lightened smile and masked his slight heartbrokenness when the rituals and main ceremony commenced.

It was a very formal, rigid ceremony. Gojo looked up at you sadly a few times, wishing you would spare a glance. He brooded on the idea that you’ll never love him like he loves you, and then a sickening, ticklish feeling spread in his throat and just as the closing ritual ended, he burst into a coughing fit – one of his worst yet. A bit of blood dribbled out his flushed lips, contrasting against his pale skin. Of course you were concerned – and of course you felt the urge to help and comfort him. But those feelings were purely out of the goodness of your heart.

Friends share love. But even when you and Gojo developed something resembling a friendship, it didn’t alleviate his disease. It was embarrassing sometimes, to realize that you were failing at the one thing you had to do; and that was keep him alive.

He was quite genuinely dying for you to love him.

Yet you refused to be in the same room as him for too long. Your mother had to encourage you. Eventually, both his family and your family worked together to make sure you and Gojo spent adequate time with each other. They organized meetups ranging from fancy nights-out to long voyages to weekend sleepovers. It was comical, how your families got along more smoothly than you and Gojo.

It’s the spring of his nineteenth birthday when the thought of kissing you becomes a reality. Well, it doesn’t go as he planned it. See, Gojo envisioned that kissing you would solve all his problems – he thought he could infect you with his love, somehow worm into your heart through a passionate kiss.

So when you and him sat for tea in a spacious room, kneeled side by side on the tatami mats, he went in for a kiss. You were distractedly straightening out your kimono when suddenly a pair of inexperienced, boyish lips crashed onto yours.

“Mmf!” you reacted with sheer shock – why on earth was he kissing you? The audacity, he had just insulted and made a mockery of you with a cheeky, playful attitude.

“Satoru!” you whined into his mouth.

He cupped the back of your neck and partly entangled his hands in your hair. White lashes sat pretty as he closed his eyes and glided his wettened lips over yours. For the briefest moment, you let yourself enjoy his kiss. But suddenly, as if your principles of love kicked back in and stomped on the moment, you shoved him away.

And a hard shove that was, he fell out of balance and landed on the mats with his elbows, a look of shock and surprise twisting into comedy.

“Playing hard to get?” he joked. His heart sunk ever so slightly at your rejection.

“You can’t just kiss a girl!”

“Come on, I’m your husband – if I can’t kiss you, then who is allowed to?” he asked.

You looked furious, like you were about to bite him, so he slowly started backtracking.

“I just wanted to see if kissing you would – ”

“How dare you, that was my first kiss! I thought I would have a cute first kiss, not a hasty one shared over… over a cup of tea!” you complained.

His expression changed and he started sputtering apologies. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know – I – ahuh!” he started lightly coughing.

And now it was your turn to feel apologetic, because all the bad tension between you and him brought on another violent coughing fit for him.

“I’m okay.” He choked out, eyes water and face reddened – some blood pooled at the corners of his lips, he instinctually brought his hand up to his mouth to catch any that dripped.

You rushed and kneeled over him, placing a much-needed soothing hand on his shoulder. “Satoru, I’m sorry.”

He tried to muster up a joke to lighten your worry, “H-hey, since when d’you call me S-Satoru? I thought it was strictly Go-jo.” he was interrupted by more coughing.

You comforted him, until his parents came into the room. They seemed disappointed with you, but masked it.

The night fell heavy all around the Gojo home. The barren Sakura trees’ branches subtly shook in the wind. A storm was approaching.

“Hey, sweetlips.” Gojo slipped into your room as you were in the middle of preparing for bed. “There’s a big storm comin’, if you get scared you can sleep with me.”

“Are you out of your mi-” you shut up when a sudden, extraordinary crack of lightning sounded and shocked you right out of your skin.

Gojo had a little laughing fit at your overreaction. He was completely calm at such a loud noise. Of course he was.

“I’m not sleeping with you!” you muttered angrily, but then you saw the dejection on his face – no, rather, you saw the way he tried to conceal it, and you felt bad.

Maybe tonight is the night you’ll try harder, you thought.

“Okay, well, don’t cry like a wimp if the thunder scares you ‘cause I won’t come running to soothe you.” He said and left you alone.

When he walked down the hall, his fingers grazed over his lips. All he could think about was how blissful it felt to kiss you, even if you did reject him. And he was your first kiss – maybe it was wrong to smile over that, but he couldn’t help himself as he climbed into the comforts of his bed.

A violent rainstorm engulfed the village.

As the lightning got more frequent and more terrifying, Gojo scrunched up his shoulders and half-hid his face under his blanket. He felt like a boy again, as scared of the thunderstorms as he was when he was seven years old. His pretty upturned nose peaked over the blanket, eyes glistening with tears as he recalled the fateful day you and him encountered each other at the Taiko-bashi.

He held onto that memory with a death grip. No one else ever had the honor of being so close to his heart, not even his best friend who he had made at Jujutsu high when he was seventeen. No, that heart of his he kept reserved for you. He thought to himself that night, while curling up on his side in pain, that even if he dies, at least he would die having been able to love you – albeit without reciprocation.

And then it happened. He shot up and let out a violent cough, and began spluttering over his white blanket. The thunderstorm was so violent that it muffled even the violent coughing in his room. His head felt like a dense ball of tension.

Unrequited love for many boys his age was heartbreaking, but not deadly. He morbidly laughed at that fact, observing the flower that he had thrown up onto his blanket, soaked in his blood.

He was dying.

He defeatedly closed his eyes, breathing through his blood-glistening mouth. His chest lightly heaved. “Y/n, you’re really gonna be the death of me… ah, oh well. That’s okay.” He muttered madly to himself and fell back onto his bed, too weak to stay awake any longer.

It was probably the work of the universe, but you floated down the unlit hall and tapped at Gojo’s doorframe. “Are you awake? Satoru?” you called his name in a gentle murmur.

There was an eerie silence. You slid open the door and caught a glimpse of bloodied sheets and a mangled-looking flower.

“Satoru!” you rushed over to him, stirring him awake with a harsh shake on his arm. “Satoru? Are you okay? Can you hear me?”

He groaned weakly – you felt a small relief. He wasn’t dead, though he really looked pale enough to be. His cheeks were flushed, his lips cracked and dry with residual blood.

Not a word you spoke sounded coherent to him though it was, all he heard was the soothing qualities in your voice. Though his vision was blurred, he knew it was you, because he felt the familiar air and scent of you.

He felt a strange sort of alleviation when you cupped his cheeks, murmuring something. Oh, when did he end up in a doctor’s room, laid on a patient’s cot? Weren’t you and him just in his bedroom at night, during a loud thunderstorm?

All he recalled was that you held his hand and squeezed it for a long time, while you were travelling somewhere. He remembered feeling your comforting presence each time his consciousness stirred.

“Have I died and gone to heaven?” he chuckled jokingly, feeling your lips press to his forehead.

“Huh?”

“Probably dreaming…” he muttered to himself.

“Satoru, you’re not in heaven you’re at Doctor Tanaka’s home.” You told him.

He pinched his eyes shut, overwhelmed by his afflicting sickness and Six Eyes.

“I’m so sorry…” he heard you speaking in a more tender voice to him than you ever had before. He felt the pressure in his chest lessen as you spoke, “… I was going to come to you because the thunderstorm scared me… no, actually, because I wanted to be with you. I felt this overwhelming urge to be at your side, and I don’t know why. Satoru, I’ve been such a fool. I’ve been such a scared fool, fearful of loving a stranger. Or, no, I guess I’ve feared loving someone I’m not supposed to be loving. You’re so special I feel driven away by it. But I promise I won’t flee from your love anymore, Satoru – I love you, and I’ll express it as much as I can in this feeble human form. The rest of our love will happen in the stars, after we die, I guess.”

He opened his eyes. It felt like the burdening fog that had been plaguing him since he was a little boy on the Taiko-bashi finally cleared. Everything felt fresh and sharp, and good and properly comforting. It felt like he had woken up from a long dream or arrived home from a harrowing journey through the landscapes of his mind.

“So you can be good with your words.” Was the first thing he said, and that was such a Gojo response that you knew he was okay.

“How do you feel?” you asked him, peering down at him.

He groaned and stretched and shifted around, fussing dramatically.

“I feel…” he began, and looked over at your lips. “Like I deserve to be kissed.”

“Oh, shut up you…”

He pouted. “Okay, ‘guess the kissing can wai- mmf!”

You kissed him very quickly and recoiled from shyness. His lips were divine.

He shot up out of the bed like he couldn’t just believe what happened.

“Wow.” He blinked at you. “So gutsy, you know you’re not allowed to kiss your husband!” he joked.

“You are such a – ”

“ – good kisser?”

“An idiot!” you giggled, genuinely enjoying his company.

The two of you bantered, basking in the newfound feeling of shared love. When the doctor came back in, he was preparing to witness the worst – but he was utterly surprised and at a loss for words when he walked in on you two smiling and laughing.

And it was the talk of the village. Neighbors gossiped, “Did you hear that Gojo Satoru is cured?” they spoke amongst themselves, “I heard! Apparently it’s a very romantic love story, did you read the newspaper article?”

You and Gojo drifted down the Taiko-bashi, together. He squeezed your hand when you set foot on the bridge, the cool skin of his wrist tickling your inner wrist as they pressed together.

“What are we doing here?” you asked him confusedly.

“Don’t you know this place? It’s the place we met.”

“Ooh, you’re romantic, huh?” you smirked.

A small blush crowned his cheeks.

“I’ve been romantic since the start.” He defended.

“What d’you mean! You were so cheeky!” you kicked his leg.

“I was quite a menace, I’m sorry – not sorry – kidding, kidding, I am sorry.”

He looked at you with a cheeky smirk, knowing damn well what you were talking about.

“You know…” he began, looking over the bridge at the river flowing beneath and admiring how the stream carried the Sakura blossoms. “Whenever I used to get coughing fits – bad ones – I would soothe myself with the memory of when we first met here. I can still recall the kimono you wore, and the Sakura that got tangled in your hair – and I thought about…” he came closer to you, speaking with a charming allure, “How badly I wanted to pluck that flower from your hair.”

You blinked up at him. How could such romantic words come out of him? You didn’t know how to respond.

“Ooh, did I make you shy?” he teased.

“No…”

“I totally made you shy. That’s so sweet. Are you blushing?” he giggled, putting his cool palm up to your cheek to feel the heat, “Oh, you’re blushing blushing. You could burn my hand right off.”

“Satoru!” you giggled.

“Ah!” he clutched his chest dramatically when you said his name, “Don’t say my name like that! I have a wife.” He joked.

“You are ridiculous!”

He gave you a big, toothy smile. “But you love me for it.”

“I do.” You tell him, and though he’s heard it many times after that day, each time feels like the first time you’re saying you love him.

“Gimme a kiss.” He asks.

“Come get it.” You tease, slowly backing away off the bridge.

“Seriously? You’re gonna make me chase you for a kiss? I’ve coughed up petals because of you, ‘n you’re gonna do me like this – heyyy! Get back here!”

Running into the petal-littered streets like carefree kids felt so freeing and exhilarating. He felt like he was catching up on all the fun he missed, if only you would have lived in his village as a child or visited more often.

“Got you!”

“Ah! Jesus, you scared – mmmf!”

He didn’t hesitate to take a much-needed kiss from your quivering lips. He kissed you so hard that you felt dizzied, lost for breath, rendered speechless. And he relished the love pouring out from you.

You stood there being kissed by your husband in a quaint alley, standing tiptoed on the Sakura blossom-littered ground to meet him halfway. Gojo’s heart thumped at the smallest things, like the fact you were standing on your tiptoes – that was the cutest thing in the world to him.

The two of you took a break for breath, and silently admired the Sakura blossoms as they drifted, being swept away by the wind.

Gojo looked at them, and looked at you, and thought of everything that had happened up until now. He was about to say something lovey-dovey but blurted out a dumb joke instead just to hear your laugh.

“Damn, I used to cough up those things.”

You laughed, “Your jokes aren’t good, Satoru.”

“But you laughed.” He said cockily.

“Shut up or I will never kiss you again.” You playfully threatened.

“You don’t mean it.” He tilted his head at you. You cracked a smile.

On the walk home, he kept calling you various nicknames – all flowers.

That day became a cherished memory of the past as the two of you weaved your way into proper adulthood. And the nicknames followed; he went through the whole flower alphabet, even the bizarrely named ones, even the Latin root names. When he wanted to annoy you, he’d call you prunus subgenus cerasus.

Now Gojo fusses around the living room of his tiny Tokyo apartment, preparing food for a little boy of the name Megumi. The day is full and busy, but any second he can get with you, he relishes.

“My tulip, 'gimme a kiss.” He asks.

“Come get it.” You tease.

“Ew.” Megumi grimaces, hearing this exchange right as he walks into the kitchen. He walks right back out.

“Gumi, get back here, food is almost ready.” Gojo calls after him, then leans down to try and kiss you but you playfully dodge him.

It always happens like that – he asks for a kiss, you refuse jokingly, he chases after you for a kiss and you scamper away. Like a running joke that’s a callback to your past.

“C’mere, you – ” he finally snatches you up, too needy for a kiss to play around anymore. “Stay right there and let me kiss you.”

He enjoys every second of kissing you, embracing you tight like he’s never letting go. Just like when he first kissed you, Gojo cups the back of your neck and tilts his head to deepen the kiss. It has you breathless, gasping – he’s so alluring that you shudder.

“Satoru!” you scold, “The food will get cold…” you excuse.

“Okay, okay. But you owe me extra kisses tonight.” He winks.

“You’ll have to get them out of me yourself.” You tease.

“Oh, I will, don’t you worry. I’ll take every little kiss I can.” He says determinedly.

He pecks at your lips, savoring the sound and feeling of the act.

“Ew!” Megumi grimaces, and walks out the kitchen just as he walks in like earlier.

“Gumi! Food! Sit-your-silly-butt-and-eat! You rascal you.” Gojo lifts him by the armpits, and tickles him like a real dad.

Megumi is poker-faced at the tickling.

“Y/n, tell Gojo he’s being annoying.”

“Husband, you’re being annoying.” You murmur up at Gojo.

“Am I?” he smiles down at you, giving you another cheeky peck.

Megumi sighs.

“Stop spyin’ and start eating, little lotus.” Gojo threatens playfully.

“Dad. Save the flower nicknames for Y/n.” Megumi scrunches his nose up.

Gojo's face lit up. “Okay, okay. Enjoy eating, I'm gonna go see where she went off to.”

He hurried into the bedroom where you had wandered into and excitedly whisper-shouted “He called me dad!” he gushed like he was the happiest man alive.

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