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mononijikayu · 1 month ago

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therapy — nanami kento and gojo satoru.

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

GENRE: alternate universe - actor/s au!;

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

WORD COUNT: 19k words

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

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the good life ― masterlist.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s unfair—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His jaw tightens. “That’s not fair.”

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

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

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

His face pales. “I—”

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

Silence.

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

Your breath catches, something breaking inside you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence stretches between you, heavy with uncertainty.

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

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

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

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

Kento remains silent, but his body tenses beside you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You swallow, your throat tightens.

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

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

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

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

But does it change anything?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You linger behind for a moment, watching her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink, turning to her. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm, aren’t I?”

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t answer.

Because what is there to say?

She isn’t wrong.

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

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

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

“Yes, I am sure.”

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

“Look, I just—-”

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

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

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

The weight isn’t there.

You can breathe.

And maybe that’s what scares you the most.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your chest tightens.

Because you know what it tells you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"…Didn’t think I’d find you here."

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

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

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

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

Your fingers twitched against the glass.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have too many of those.”

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

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

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

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

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

"Didn’t seem like the type."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine, then you pick one.”

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

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

“To that. And more.” he agreed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frowned. "Where?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he didn’t say anything.

He just smiled at you.

And when he turned to leave, you followed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.” you rasped. “Not even close.”

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

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

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

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

You turned to him, frowning. "What?"

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

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

And maybe you didn’t know what came next.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence once again follows through both of you.

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

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

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

Satoru grinned. “And?”

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

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

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

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

You snorted. “Bullshit.”

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

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

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

Your brows furrowed. “How?”

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

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

“That was you?” you whispered.

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

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

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

A lump formed in your throat.

You swallowed hard, unable to look away from him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You are an angel.”

You shook your head. “I am not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your breath hitched. “Satoru….”

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

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

“Chemistry.” You whispered under your breath.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you weren’t going anywhere. Not now.

Not when he kissed you like this.

Not when you finally felt wanted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You knew he broke you then.

And fuck, you let him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was all it took.

Gojo Satoru snapped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because he believes in love.

He believes in being in love.

And he believes in loving you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Neither of you spoke.

Then, reality crept in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.” He breathed.

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

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

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

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

You exhaled slowly. “Shouldn’t I?”

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

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

“Stay.”

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

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

You swallowed hard. You should’ve hesitated.

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

“Okay.” you breathed in response to him.

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

There was no more speaking after that.

Instead the world woke up and met the sun.

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

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

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

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

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

His jaw clenched. “Who was it?”

Silence once more blisters him.

And then Kento completely lost his mind.

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

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

“It doesn’t matter, Kento.”

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

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

Kento froze. “Don’t you—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Baby, please—”

“Don’t call me that.”

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

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

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

He looked so small. So fragile.

But you didn’t stop at that.

Your anguish had been waiting for this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did love you—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does.”

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

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

Kento Nanami finally knew how it felt.

And it was killing him over and over.

And perhaps that was your greatest revenge.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

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

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

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

Silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kento—”

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

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

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

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

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

“…Then why are you saying this?”

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

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

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

“…And what about you?”

Kento’s throat collapsed. “What?”

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

Silence bellows the world all of the sudden.

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

You froze. “.....You don’t have to.”

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

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

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

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

Silence. Unforgiving. Endless.

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

“…I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

“…Where are you going?” Kento choked.

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

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

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

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

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

“…I’m sorry.” he croaked.

You didn’t answer.

“…I’m so fucking sorry.”

And still, you didn’t answer.

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

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

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

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

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

Not ever again. You deserve better than that.

You deserve someone like Satoru.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The interviewer watches you carefully. "And now?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Does he know?"

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

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

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

"Not even after everything?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything, mam.”

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

epilogue

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nanami [Name] and Nanami Kento Are Separating!

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

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

This wasn’t just another article.

It was going to cause a stir.

A public unraveling of a seemingly perfect marriage.

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

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

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

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

Now, the storm was coming.

And no one can stop it now.

310 notes · View notes

kurikive · 10 months ago

Text

CASUAL | danielle marsh.

— "is it casual now?"

6thmember!reader, situationship/fwb but nothing sexual, angst, fluff at the end i promise, dani swears, reader is a (closeted) lesbian, reader is horrible at reading people, written in 2nd person, they work it out on the remix

warnings : A LOT of internalized homophobia !! reader refers to herself multiple times as a predator but it's just from fear and insecurity, nothing actually predatory is happening in the story. extremely brief mentions of starvation

wc: 5.4k words

inspired by: Casual — Chappell Roan

you and danielle marsh are friends. more than co-workers, you're friends. although you don't have that much in common except for your age, it was easy to adapt to the harsh environment of the k-pop industry's training system with someone like danielle by your side.

she's always been a ray of sunshine in everyone's lives, you're not the exception. if you were in a bad mood, tired from waking up in the early morning everyday, worked to the point of exhaustion, danielle would be there rubbing your shoulders and saying something sweet like

"you're doing great, y/n! keep up!"

and then you'd smile at her, and she'd smile back, and you'd feel so much better, thanks to danielle.

you didn't have many interests in common. music taste, fashion sense, movie picks, food preferences, personality types, if anything you were almost her complete opposite. and yet, she sat in your bed every night while you scrolled on your phone, talking for hours until it the clock hits midnight and she goes back to her room.

danielle did most of the talking, and you carefully listened to everything she said. the enthusiasm in which she enunciated all her words was endearing to listen to, and it couldn't not bring a smile out of you. the girl never forgot to give you your chance to speak too, trying to get to know you better everyday.

there was one thing she could not know, however. that you're a lesbian.

if it was hard enough being gay in korea, it was ten times harder when you were about to debut in a girl group, in one of the biggest companies in the industry at the moment nonetheless.

there were times where the members would all gather and have girl talks, talking about things like movies, celebrity crushes, past boyfriends and all that stuff, and you felt left out every single time.

sometimes it's more a curse than a blessing that danielle notices everything, because when she asks, "who's your celebrity crush, y/n?", "what do you look for in a boy, y/n?", "have you ever had a boyfriend, y/n?", you never know how you're supposed to respond.

it wasn't safe. it'll never be safe.

you've known the girls for almost a year and there has never been an indication of the way they felt about the LGBTQ+ community. hanni was your safest bet, she seemed the most open minded, but then again you can never be sure.

they were all so painfully straight.

so you try your best to answer vaguely,

"i don't know.", "i'm not sure, i don't really think about that." they complain a little about your mysteriousness, but it doesn't take long for them to let it go and move on.

you don't know how long you have to keep pretending you're not sure. you are sure.

you like girls.

you don't want to keep pretending you don't. but how would they feel?.

they'd feel unsafe, uncomfortable, scared, exposed to a threat, a possibility of being prey to a predator, a little voice in your head tells you.

but you're not. you're not a predator. they know you're not a predator. you'd never do anything to hurt them, or make them uncomfortable.

so you keep pretending. but the shell is starting to crack, and a knot in your throat gets tighter everytime you hear your members ask "is he your type?".

your debut is only a couple months away. you pray to god hanni has noticed by now. she's your roommate after all.

you start playing some specific songs without your headphones in hopes she walks by or enters the room and notices. you hope she's the one that asks. but she doesn't, she never mentions the songs, ever.

so you move on to movies and shows.

when she catches you watching heartbreak high in the living room TV, she only says "oh they're aussies, right?"

when she sees you watching heartstopper on your phone while eating dinner she just says, "kit connor is soooo handsome."

she doesn't mention it when she goes into your room and you're playing but i'm a cheerleader on your laptop. but hanni has caught on.

and the next time she goes into your shared room, she closes the door behind her. you're in your bed, and you're staring at each other, both of your eyes shine with nervousness.

"can i ask you something?" she says from the door, so shakily you start fearing she's not going to take it like you wish she would.

"sure." you didn't mean for your voice to come out as quiet as it did.

it's a nerve-wracking couple of seconds watching hanni take a seat in her own bed and face you. she takes a big breath before asking, "do you- no, sorry. are you... gay?"

yes, yes, yes. i am a lesbian. i like girls. you want to scream, but the realization of reality strangles you and your throat feels so tight, and you can't say anything.

"it's not like there's anything wrong about it, i'm just... asking." she tries. you can tell she's trying. it's sweet that she's trying.

"yes." it's a struggle to get it out, and your heart starts racing, but just being able to feels like such a relief that you might start crying. but then fear washes down on you again when you can't read hanni, at all.

"i'm really sorry, hanni. i promise i'm not weird or predatory or anything, i would never try to make you uncomfortable and i'm sorry if i ever did. i promise i don't like you like that, not that you're not attractive or anything, that's not what i mean at all. i just- i would never like you like that, you're like my sister and i promise that i'm still the same y/n you met, i really hope this doesn't change anything in our-" she cuts off your rambled apology-slash-explanation with a hug.

"it doesn't. i promise." it hits you now, just now, that hanni knows. she knows.

"please don't tell the others." you're choked up, and that's the only thing you could say before the tears in your eyes caught up. i don't know how they'll take it, you want to say, but the only thing that comes out is a broken sob.

"i won't. it's okay, y/n."

you've grown closer to hanni than you'd ever thought you would. you spend your nights in your room talking and laughing and watching funny videos you send each other.

it's been a few months since you've debuted and you couldn't be happier. you had someone to rely on, someone who knows all your secrets and can trust her with them, and vice versa.

your career has skyrocketed and your popularity is through the roof, and although there are always negative consequences that come with that fame, it's been mostly great on your end.

danielle doesn't really hang out in your room to talk anymore. if you're honest, you kind of miss it, but she surely has her reasons, and you don't think too much about it.

you're currently in one of the vocal practice rooms at HYBE, setting up your phone to do a phoning live. you'd just finish your vocal practice and you had asked for permission beforehand.

after a few minutes of talking with your fans, recommending movies and talking about food, you hear a knock on your door. quite strange.

"yeah? who is it?" you yell loud enough to no cause any ruckus. the door slightly opens and a face peeks inside, "it's me!" danielle's signature smile shining brightly at you, "i saw you were live and wanted to come hang out."

you didn't even need to tell her anything before she was coming right inside the room to grab a chair and sit beside you. "well, come hang out then!" you face your screen to see danielle struggling to bring the chair closer to you, and you chuckle a bit. "dani's here, guys!"

danielle has always been very touchy; with everyone, that is. today was not the exception, resting her head on your shoulder, holding your hand and locking your fingers together, nuzzling her face in your neck, it's all things you're already used to.

it's never been more than just friendly showcases of affection, to you, at least. and you've also never been irritated by it, but there's some guilt you try to suppress.

you don't want to push her away, you're not uncomfortable with her actions, what is uncomfortable is her potentially finding out your sexuality and thinking you let her shower you with affection for your own amusement. you fear it. but you don't want to think about that right now.

you think about it again, however, when you go back home and open social media only to see videos and threads with thousands of likes and views compiling every sweet moment of affection that happened just mere hours ago.

there's a pang in your chest when you see the tens of delusional comments talking of how much they'd like to see you and your friend as a couple. it feels like you're being strangled, and you suddenly feel unwell, so you close the app and turn off your phone.

"i should watch a movie."

you fully believe your debut was your prime. everyday gets harder, scandal after scandal, comeback after comeback, day after day. you work really hard, your members know, your fans know. but it never looks like it's going to get easier.

you win awards, win some more, get another important deal, shoot another session, write another song, the cycle repeats although not in the same order. like a fucked up loop. you're so fucking tired.

you wonder how hyein is holding up. you care a lot for her, like your little sister. she seems okay, eating a bowl of yogurt and fruits in the living room with haerin and hanni. are you the only one having a hard time?

you need to relieve your stress, and there's really no other option other than going to the gym to work out. so you go back to your room to lazily change into your practice clothes and grab your backpack, "i'm going to the gym." you try your best to sound at least a little enthusiastic as you walk behind the living room couch.

"when are you coming back?" you hear danielle ask from the kitchen, a twinge of concern in her voice. "it might start raining soon."

"i won't take long. if i see it starts to get cloudy i'll get going." you try to put her worries at ease. your gym doesn't have windows, though.

you shouldn't have gone. you're not even supposed to go anyway. it's raining hard, and it might start storming soon. but your manager can't know you're here. one of the many downsides of being in a group with four minors and two barely-adults, you can't call any of them to pick you up. so fuck it, you're taking the public transportation.

kind of extremely risky considering you are literally in newjeans, but okay. what else is there to do? what you failed to consider is the only bus stop being about five blocks away. and the bus doesn't drop you off even remotely close to the dorms. so you're gonna be running in the rain and, fuck it again, you do just that.

the first five blocks to the bus stop weren't that bad, you didn't get soaked like you imagined, blocking most raindrops with your backpack over your head. you really should've just brought an umbrella, though.

good thing you brought a mask, at least. nobody seemed to recognize you on the bus. you take a seat as close as possible to the exit and take out your phone to hurriedly text the group chat.

i got a bit caught up, im omw

domt worry 2 much

ill b there soon :))

minji responds with a thumbs up, hanni leaves an "idiot" that gets a like reaction by haerin. you see danielle write and then stop writing about 3 times, but she ends up not sending anything at all, so you just turn off your phone and look outside for your stop.

it only takes a couple minutes of waiting to see the silhouette of your dorm building. you get off your seat and wait for the bus to halt at the next stop to get off. it's raining a bit harder, but there's nothing you can do except wing it.

and when you get off, you immediately put your backpack on top of your head and start running as fast as you could towards your dorm. you get some looks, but no one can possibly be able to recognize you, not at the speed you're going.

after a few minutes, your legs start getting tired not only from running, but all the exercise you did hours earlier. another thing you failed to consider in this mediocre, careless plan.

but you're almost there. and you're almost not soaked.

by the time you reach your building the only thing about you that isn't wet is your scalp. you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket, it's probably one of your members, but you're almost there, you can't pick up.

you enter the gates of the apartment, and you're probably going to make a mess on the floor on the elevator, but your legs can't take it anymore, and you thank any god that hears your prayers when the elevator doors open and it's empty. you can't take more embarrassment right now.

the doors open once again and you try not to make much noise as you run towards your dorm. someone inside must've heard you fumbling with your keys because as soon as you find the right one the door is already open, a concerned danielle with a just as worried minji behind her. you smile at the sight of them. "hello!"

"get your ass inside!" you hear hanni shout from the couch.

you're drying your hair in your room after taking a shower and explaining the situation to your group members. just as you're about to turn on your phone to see what time it is you hear a knock on your door, "can i come in?" it's danielle.

"yup. come on in!" you answer a lot more energized than a couple hours before. danielle's not wearing her usual bright smile, but rather a more worried expression. "y/n, can we talk?"

you're confused. you've never heard or seen her like this before. she's obviously been worried before, she cares about you just as much as the others, but this time it's different. "yeah, what's up?" you try your best to respond calmly and tap a stop in the bed beside yourself, which danielle gladly takes.

"are you okay?" she asks as she settles down at your side. what?

"what do you mean?" you don't notice it but you start fidgeting with your own fingers. danielle notices.

"it's just," she tries looking somewhere else, but she can't help the need of looking into your eyes all the time, looking for some sort of sign, some crack, "i can tell you're stressed. you're tired and... if you need to talk i just want you to know that i'm here." her eyes are dripping honey and her hand is so warm when she grabs yours.

you show her a sluggish smile, "thanks, dani. i appreciate that." when you look back, her face is already finding it's way to the crook of your neck. "i'm just a little tired of everything. it really feels like i'm doing the same things all over again. i know we've achieved a lot as a group but i feel like i have nothing going on for myself." you sigh, danielle says nothing, urging you to continue.

"all the songs i pitch get turned down, my other drafts feel too personal to release as a group song. every song i write with the group in mind feels, i don't know, empty?"

your eyes unfocus as a wave of emptiness washes over you and the only thing you feel is a water droplet from your bangs fall and travel down your temples. and also the warmth shared by danielle's hand in yours.

"i just feel like nothing's going on in my life." you feel danielle's head leave your shoulder and you turn to look at each other at the same time, "i think i know how you feel." she says with the sweetest eyes ever.

"thanks for listening, dani." you smile at her, but it feels so strange when she doesn't smile back. she just stares, right through you. her eyes are so pretty; you've always known but this is the first time you've looked at them directly for so long (there's really nothing else for you to look at when she's so close to your face).

oh, yeah. in a sudden moment you were inches apart. you don't remember moving so it must've been danielle.

you don't really understand what's going on. maybe this is an eye contact battle and you're not supposed to blink. and you think for a moment you had it easy because suddenly danielle's pretty eyes are nowhere to be found and you're staring at her eyelids and long eyelashes instead.

before your brain even thinks of giving you the chance to mutter "i win!" in a silly manner, you feel your own lips getting shut. covered, enveloped by another set of softness.

oh. this is not what you expected at all.

what are you even supposed to do right now? well, pull away, obviously. but that could could give danielle the impression that you hate everything about this and, really, that's not true at all. it's good. well, not good, but- danielle is not horrible at kissing.

what even is happening, anyway? i mean, you're kissing. but what else? nothing feels like it's moving; it feels like time's stopped. there also hasn't been anything that has lead up to this happening.

so you're just left there, paralyzed, in shock, waiting until danielle pulls away. just waiting until she's done with you. until she's satisfied.

and it's until danielle notices that you're not moving that she realizes what she's done. she pulls away, shaken and distraught.

"y/n, i am so sorry. i don't know what came over me, i am so so so sorry. i really didn't mean to do that. please forgive me, y/n, i am really so sorry." at this point, danielle's voice starts to break. "i don't know why i did that, it's just, i don't know, you just looked good a-and we were just close and-"

"it's okay, dani. i know."

"no, y/n, i really am sorry. i-"

"dani, i swear it's fine." you grab her shoulder to reassure her, but is anything really fine right now? "i..." you don't really know what to say next. "i don't, like, hate you or anything. i understand things like that happen. i'm not mad at you."

"really?" you've never seen her tear up so fast. you definitely didn't expect her to tear up at this. but you know the feeling of guilt so well you can't help but feel sympathy for her. "are you sure? i promise it won't happen again."

"i'm sure, dani. you could never do anything to make me hate you."

you smile at her, she sniffles. it's the last thing you hear before you hear the sound of her wristwatch's seconds ticking. you don't really know what's going through her head. you count about 34 ticks.

"did you hate it?" her voice isn't weak, but it is lower than you normally expect it to be.

you're stunned, but the way she looks at you so earnestly, with a hint of nervousness in her eyes forces you to answer within seconds, "n-no! dani, i didn't... hate it. it was just unexpected. i didn't really process it at first." it's the truth, but it feels so gut-wrenching to say.

another 20 ticks of quiet.

"can i do it again?"

hello? hello? what is going on? hello?

"i-i mean, if you want to." it sounds more like a question than a proper answer. and danielle takes it anyway.

you don't have any romantic feelings for danielle, that's for sure. she's said she doesn't have any feelings for you either. that's established. and yet when hanni is too caught up watching movies in the living room with minji and hyein, danielle is always there, sitting in your bed.

sometime's it's just little pecks while you cuddle and watch something she doesn't care much about. sometime's she's on the verge of kissing the living shit out of you.

it's never more than that. none of you let it be more than that. it's more than okay.

it's comfortable. it's casual.

and yet, every time it happens, you feel guilt eat at your stomach.

because danielle doesn't know. and she can't know.

it's not like this was your idea in the first place, it was danielle's. but the fact that you let her do it anyway could be predatory enough for her to feel unsafe if she ever did find out. even if she's the one who caused this all.

and never once do you think about yourself while it happens. it's not a moment for you, it's a moment for danielle to take. and you're okay with that. as long as she's okay with it.

you're okay with many things just because danielle is okay with them.

if danielle wants to watch a romcom, you watch a romcom. if danielle wants to eat plain yogurt, you eat plain yogurt. if danielle wants to kiss you, you let her kiss you.

it's not that big of a deal if there are no feelings involved. it's just a matter of believing that that's actually true.

you let her do whatever she wants because you're scared to do the taking. because taking feels like stealing, and doing feels like attacking. and you're so scared to hurt danielle that you forget you can also hurt yourself.

but if it's so casual, why doesn't she let go of your hand? why does she call you pretty everyday? why does she look at you with those pretty eyes like you're her whole world?

was the "i love you" she said yesterday something she meant as platonic love? is there such a thing as casual love?

was it just the sound of the raindrops on your window that made you hallucinate the sound of a love confession?

you don't eat anything for the rest of the day.

minji and hyein are visiting their parents. hanni and haerin are out of the country. and you're in the dorm kitchen trying to figure out how blurred the lines are while you mix the milk into your tea.

you feel your heart drop when you hear the sound of footsteps of the line-blurrer herself over the sounds of light rain. it hasn't stopped since the day before.

you don't want to feel anything right now, you don't want to hear anything right now.

she wraps her arms around your waist and says, "good morning." with that big bright smile on her face. at one point it started hurting when she did, but you don't remember when.

she smells like the candles you burnt in your room two days after hanni left. you were trying to get rid of danielle's scent from your room, but you couldn't tell her that, so you just said you were trying something new.

danielle notices you say nothing back, and your eyes are nowhere in particular. "watchu thinkin' about?" her always cheery tone gets you out of your trance, and she notices when you stop stirring the spoon in your cup. you're still silent for a bit, but she lets you take your time.

"i don't think we should do this anymore, danielle."

you tense up when her arms leave your waist, but it feels oddly freeing. you don't turn back to face her.

"what do you mean?"

"are we still casual?"

there's disbelief in danielle's voice when she speaks, "what are you talking about? of course we are!" but she sounds dishonest, in a way.

"really?" that's when you turn around, her eyes are wide and her cheeks are quite flushed but nothing about her seems guilty at all, "because saying "i love you" doesn't seem quite casual to me."

she scoffs, "y/n, i tell all my friends i love them. it's a normal thing!"

"i'd agree with you if we weren't kissing on the low. it's a little too much on top of that."

"i don't know what you think casual means but-"

"what i mean is we should stop before the lines start to blur, that's if they haven't already." you don't want to yell at her. you hope she understands before you have to raise your voice. "we are public figures, famous figures. if this goes wrong we can't go back and that could potentially ruin everything, not only for us but for our group."

"well, it can't go wrong if there's no feelings involved, can it?" danielle is usually playfully sassy, but she's never responded to you like this before.

"we're human, danielle. feelings can't be stopped." you're not too good at reading people, but you can see something has clicked in danielle's brain.

"what i'm getting is that you developed feelings for me while we were casual, is that right?" she seems so sure and confident that it annoys you. it frustrates you. and you want to cry.

"no, that's not what i said. but i am scared of it happening, and i want this to stop before it has the chance to."

"well, you should've thought of that before you said yes." you never really did.

"why are you upset, anyways?"

"b-because!" her voice gets louder, "i just wanted this to be casual, and now your telling me you're scared of catching feelings, it's just weird. that's all."

you sigh, "listen, i don't want this to end on a bad note. i just-"

"well, i don't want this to end at all!"

it takes you a minute to believe what you're hearing.

"a-are you hearing yourself?" it's shocking, it really is, "this is crazy, why are you being so selfish right now?"

"because it feels good! okay?!" danielle has completely let go of the loose strings of morality she was holding on to, "it fucking feels good, a-and you make me feel good. i like it when we kiss, and i like it when we cuddle and, and, i just like it, okay?!" that's the first time you've heard danielle curse in your entire life.

"okay, well, i'm glad you did. but i don't. i don't feel good at all." it's so scary and risky because you're two seconds away from telling her the truth, and this could potentially damage both your careers irreversibly, but you can't think of any lie or excuse that is true enough to keep hiding it.

"i drown in guilt every time we kiss and i feel like i'm choking when you look at me these days."

you've never seen her look so confused, like she really doesn't understand you. because she never had to.

"why?"

"i am a lesbian, danielle." you can't shatter, not now. "and it kills me because you'll never understand how hard it is to hide like this for so long. and yes, we hide this casual thing from our members, but after this is over you don't have to hide anything at all and i still have to hide everything."

she says nothing. her eyes soften, but you can't read them. not like you ever could.

"i didn't catch feelings for you, but i could, and you're not helping out. and you don't have to worry about that. you don't have to worry about your members being disgusted at you for something you can't change. you don't have to pretend. you don't have to be scared that you're making someone uncomfortable by simply existing beside them. i had to pretend i didn't care when you kissed me, i had to pretend to be okay when you kissed me again. i've been pretending to be okay with so much i don't know what being okay is anymore."

danielle still says nothing.

"but that's all gone to shit now, hasn't it?" your voice can't break now, but it does anyway, even when your not done speaking. "i can't be okay with everything. i can't be casual about everything, danielle. not anymore." there's a hot tear running down your cheek, but you try to hold yourself together.

"i never want to hurt you, ever, danielle. but i am seriously hurting myself. i am eating myself from inside out. there's nothing casual about that."

"i think i might be in love with you." is the first thing she says in minutes. and that's when you shatter completely. you turn around to leave your mug of now cold tea on the counter and you rest your elbows on it to hide your face in your hands.

"do you think that helps?" you're sobbing.

"i'm sorry. i know it doesn't. i just had a moment of realization and i think that's why i was so upset. i didn't want you to end this because i was in love with you since the start and didn't realize."

"this is fucking crazy." it really is, that's why you can't hold down the laugh of complete astonishment that leaves your lips. "do you realize how crazy this is? i just came out to you and you're- i don't even want to think about this."

"i'm really sorry, y/n." it's the first time you see guilt in danielle's face in a long time. "i really am. i really didn't know, i- i didn't know anything at all."

"you were upset of me potentially having feelings for you when it was you the whole time, huh?" this is no time or place to make jokes, you're literally crying as you speak. but this is hilarious. danielle seems to think so too given she also laughs.

"i don't know what i was thinking." she says, hiding her face in her palm in embarrassment.

"i wish i knew too." you say, "i never do."

"so what now? i mean, you clearly don't like me back." you don't understand how danielle does it. she never looks away, she faces the truth, something you're unable to do easily.

"that's a good question, i actually never thought about that." i mean, you thought the possibility of danielle ever liking a woman, let alone you, was at a mere 0.1%, can you blame yourself for not thinking of a solution to this?

"i mean, you did say you could."

"selfish asshole." you mutter to yourself, but danielle hears it anyways. "hey!"

"i'm crying right in front of you out of fear and frustration, have some respect, dude."

"i would say it wouldn't hurt to try but it clearly does so i don't know what you want to do." wow, danielle really could never do anything to make you hate her. nothing at all. "i don't mind being the selfless one this time."

"cheesy." she's always been like that, you can't say you hate it. "i'll reheat my tea and think about it."

danielle waits for you. maybe it wouldn't be so bad to risk falling in love with her too. you've risked it once.

the microwave beeps and you take your mug out. it's hot again. you turn to face danielle and she's still there, hasn't moved an inch. "i'm willing to give it a try. but nothing casual."

she shines you the widest grin you've ever seen from her. "nothing was ever casual, i fear."

"i still can't believe you cursed." you say as you walk past her to go to your room (that probably smells like danielle's perfume again).

"i did?!" she trails behind you. you nod. "i almost jumped."

"hey, am i the first one to know?"

"what, that i'm a lesbian?" she nods, now beside you. you shake your head after a sip of your tea.

"hanni knew."

"i'm not even the first? fuck..." is she doing this on purpose... she has to be, right?

"dude? hello?"

"don't dude me, i'm your future girlfriend." she hits your arm as you walk into your room. you don't know what you're gonna say to hanni when she comes back.

"confident much? shut up and pick a movie to watch." you'll figure it out later.

end.

🗒️ this wasn't as long as i thought it was gonna be THANK GOD

#newjeans x reader #danielle x reader #danielle marsh x reader #danielle angst #newjeans angst

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roturo · 1 year ago

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₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎♡ BAD GIRL, GOOD GIRL !

he couldn't hide the crush he had for the good girl who's a bad girl to him ! ₊ ⊹₍ᐢᐢ₎

contains: smut, nsfw, unprotected sex, dacryphilia, cunnilingus, masturbation (m), e2l, a lot of praise, overstimulation, fluff & angst if you squeeze your eyes, lore mention (really vague), based when gojo was still in school, multiple orgasms, gojo whimpers, nipple play, throat & tummy bump, creampie, oral m!receiving, a lot of the use 'fuck', kinda getting caught, really cute tbh.

A/N: this was supposed to be a request but... idk what happened tbh, i just created this story. 2.6k + felt lonely

You enjoyed this. Really. You know about the power you have over Gojo Satoru. And he’s childish, he won’t admit it. He will continue with his god complex and see you as a ‘pathetic girl without knowing you well.

And it’s fun. His gaze is so funny, the hypocrisy is funny. He would be talking with Suguru, judging you and how fast you’re getting into his and Suguru’s level. Is he afraid of you?

The worst fucking thing is how hard you get him. Maybe he has a degradation kink to bring him back to earth. But each time it gets harder to hide his clear erection inside his pants.

But he would never admit the admirations and maybe the tiny crush he has for you. You being the first time he saw a girl like this– and he might be afraid of you. Afraid of losing himself to some silly highschooler crush– When there’s more important things to focus on in this world, like… he could focus on the political and economic state of the world right now….?

“Gojo Satoru! Are you paying attention?” Sensei Yaga brought him back from his own imaginary debate. “Uh- Yeah, sensei. I’m paying attention.”

“Oh.. Is that so Gojo?” Oh well fuck. Here you go. He sighed, saying your name in a whisper like if it’s some bad word full of anger- “Would you mind explaining what Sensei Yaga just said?” Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fucking fucking you with your face pressed against his bed and silencing your cries for him, while he pounds his cock from behind you into your poor vulnerable pussy he just ate out some minutes ago.

“Why do you keep acting like some bad girl instead of behaving yourself and learn to be a good girl for me, hm? Learn how to treat your seniors right. How does that sound? Do you have an answer for that?”

Silence.

Sixth fuck. Why did he think it was okay to say that out loud? Does it sound kinky?

“...I– why- uh- Y-You don’t know me Gojo.” Convincible right? His nicknames didn’t affect you. “So shut up boy. Instead of telling me how to behave, why don’t– Ugh. Shut up.”

He would pretend and convince himself that the reddish color covering your face is an act of his imagination, and move his gaze to his best-friend Suguru, which has a mix of confusion and shock adorning his face. “What? Do I have something in my face?” Gojo asked, touching his left cheek with his hand on that side.

“Uh- No. I will… just pay attention to what Yaga is saying.”

He can’t fucking stop thinking about you.

Is this right? His hand sneaking down his abdomen towards the elastic of his sweatpants, just to enter and– FUCK! He shouldn’t be doing this while thinking about ‘someone he hates’ and want to put them in their place. His erect cock was really visible through his sweats, and all he could do was roll in his bed trying to take you off his mind- Being shirtless didn’t help that either, his also erect nipples having fun with the friction he created while rolling on his bed. Great, not only it affected other areas of his body, but it also brought release to the problem he was trying to stop.

So he couldn’t stop himself. And his sinful right hand went down and inside his boxers to jerk off some tension down there (traitor)-- A whimper escaped his mouth once he teased his tip, already full of pre-cum thanks to stupid bed. His left hand traveled searching to cover his mouth to stop soundings coming out– Not trying to out himself, because it looked like this fucking walls were made of paper. But accidentally while doing so he touched his nipple, bringing out a loud and electric shock to his body.

Seventh? Ninth? Fuck.

He quickly bit his lips, surely blood coming out of them because of how hard he was trying to stop himself, but he really needed to cum. Fuck- If you were here, he would ask for permission, he would beg to cum. He would do anything to just fucking cum inside your pussy.

And it’s so embarrassing, because of all the rumors of him in this small space for his kind, that he’s a playboy and gets pussy every weeknd– when he’s basically a virgin if he has never got his cock inside a woman's pussy. Does it still count as sex without it inside?

He didn’t have enough fucks in his vocabulary to count all the misfortunes he has in a week. How could he let his guard down? How the fuck the curse got him? But the worst (actually it’s like the best thing that happened in his life) is that you cared about his well-being and you offered to take care of him as fast as possible.

"You're hurt. Is it bad? Do you need the med-kit? Let me see-" He already treated himself, not wanting to be a bother for you– (he wants to) but thanks to his infinity it wasn’t so hard to, and it’s basically a paper cut, but ever since that happened, everyone’s been cautious. Well, at least the people who know.

"Don't bother, it's not serious. I've already tended to it."

"...Someone was able to get the better of you?"

Oh shit. Congratulations Satoru! You used another word to describe how unlucky you are! But did you have to mention him?

“Uh.. No- I mean- When training… y’know? It happens, even to the best” He sent you a wink, anxious to get over this topic and not get too focused on him, because really. It was just a paper cut for him. He called for you, bringing back your gaze to his eyes, did he always look this beautiful? “Uh.. Yeah?” You didn’t intend your voice to sound like that, but suddenly everything felt so hot, and was he so close to you before?

“Why did you want to take care of me? The last time I got the memo you hated me as much as you hate bugs.”

“I.. I don’t hate you Gojo. I just-” sigh.

“It’s okay, I understand if you want to gain Yaga’s confidence for… whatever reasons you have. I’m just impressed- that’s all. I’m very grateful it was you.”

…

“I like you Satoru. I’m scared I'll lose you- even though I don’t show it, I care about you” Oh nice. You don’t hate him, and he liked the way his name sounded coming out of your mouth. Could easily make him cum. It’s great you also care for him.

“Can’t blame you. I’m pretty awesome.” His quirky smirk showed in his face, earning no reaction from you. Oh.

Oh fuck.

He really fucked it this time, didn’t he?

“Wait, are you fr?”

“There’s no way you just said ‘ef’ ‘ar’ Satoru.”

He didn’t care about your criticism now, not when you just made him the happiest man in the world and he lifted you with no problem, and got you in a position so you’re now above him, caging his legs.

With no words, he kissed you on the lips with a passion he has never shown. Not even while fighting. He loved the way your lips were perfect for him, how small you felt above him in his touch. As an automatic reaction you slowly started to rock your hips, earning a whimper from him. Which somehow turned you on more, your hands roamed his body until they landed on his chest. Index and middle finger keeping his nipples between- an unexpected thrust from him caught you by surprise and pressed your fingers back together, earning a whine from him. You were about to get your hands under his shirt, and discover this new ‘thing’ of Gojo’s, but-

“Oh my fucking god. WhatshappeningrightnowIthoughsomethingbadhappenedtoyouguys.”

Poor Suguru.

Both of you have been into very… ‘pretentious’ situations while interacting through the years. It stresses him out that it’s just.. well- pretentious. Because you never go to the next base, even after forgetting the bickering and rivalry through the years, (and the raging sexual tension from Gojo), he might finally have the courage to put aside his masquerade and open up about his wants and be vulnerable… At the act? After? During?

Taking a deep breath and sighing, waiting for your answer, but all he receives is a stare. Which makes him even more anxious. He would prefer a slap, a cussing, fuck! even you laughing at him. But all he gets is a stare. Was it so stupid to say how much he liked you and that you should have sex with him?

He called out your name, bringing you back from your shock- “I- shit… Wait a second, this isn’t how I wanted things to go.. what the hell?” The last question was barely heard, he was murmuring to himself and planning a hundred ways he could die without bringing down the sorcerer world with him. Is it good he confessed in your room?

“That’s the worst confession I’ve heard in a while y’know?...” He stopped his mental break-down, never believing he would blush for a girl. Not even the girl he has been crushing (and hating) through his teenage years. “I like you too, like- for my whole life. But I didn’t think you would feel the same. I didn’t see it.”

“But I felt it.” His eyes traced your body until they reached the floor. It was weird seeing Gojo like this. Never in his 20 years of life thought he would be feeling weak and vulnerable to anyone. Not until he met you.

“Yeah- I can see it” You lazily pointed at his crotch. “You seriously have a problem… Do you like being humiliated and degraded?... This isn’t the first time this happens, y’know?:..”

A whine escaped his mouth like a little child- “Ugh, it’s just… I really need you.”

You wasted no time when your lips glued to his. It was 10 P.M, everyone was asleep, but at this rate you didn’t care. If they ungratefully hear you and Satoru moaning, it was his fault for giving the first step this time.

He called out your name, making you break the kiss and start marking his neck. “Ah, fuck. Please mark me, I want everyone to know I’m yours.” You pushed him back so he’s now sitting on the sofa. Kneeling down for him while you continue marking him and hearing his beautiful noises. You were in between his legs, in front of his raging cock begging for release from the sweat pants. “Is this okay Satoru?”

A lot of little cute nods were made, his flushed cheeks making him look absolutely precious. “I need words baby, I don’t know what you want me to do…” You said while playing with the hem of his sweats.

“I want you to suck my cock and then fill you up… please.” Oh! He clearly answered his desires, making you form a smile while he bit his lips watching you undress him. “No underwear hm? You were waiting for this?” His cock was standing there tall and angry. The pale base with a pink needy tip leaking pre-cum from it. “I was risking my luck”

“Then you’re such a lucky man right now Satoru.” Your lips wrapped around his cock, and you slowly teased his tip with your tongue, making him whimper at the feeling. And you tried to deepthroat him- which caught him by surprise and his hand immediately went to find a place in your head, making a made-up ponytail with your hair for some support. (He was too lost in the pleasure to even know if he doing it right)

With the rest of his neglected cock, your hands traveled up to find his balls and start massaging them. Making Satoru to fucking loose control over his body once he saw the bump his cock caused in your throath- Moans turned into whines with tears, he had to pull up his shirt and bite on it to stop whining. Silent whimpers accompanying his tears while he looks at the beautiful girl between his legs. The sight made him cum faster than he expected, he swears he saw light and white noise was heard in his ears.

You happily showed your tongue to him before swallowing the salty liquid down your throat which earned a groan from Satoru.

“From outside you’re such a bad girl, but inside you’re a good girl f’me, aren’t ya?” You chuckled at his ‘drunk-dazed’ face, moving yourself so you’re on top of him again, his cock still hard against your core. “You don’t know me at all Satoru…”

You placed your arms around his neck, getting closer to him. “Not the way I wished. But you’re giving me the chance to be your man and get to know you, right?”

“Oh… Gojo... I’m looking for a real man, not for a man who pretends to be a man. Are you a real man, Satoru?”

“I’ll be whatever you want baby.” He says, ghosting your lips, making a brushing action with his nose and yours before finally giving in and kissing you again. This kiss was more needy, remembering every place from it. While your hands went insearch of his chest, the hold of your hips with his hands hardened when you ghostly brushed your finger through his nipples. He thrusted upwards, looking for some friction between your core and his.

He was getting needier each passing second- and you noticed that once he grabbed the hems of your leggings and tore them apart. Murmuring about him buying you new ones continuously tearing apart your panties too.

One of his fingers going through your folds, coming out wet, you shyly looked away when he inserted the finger on his mouth and moaned. “Sweet.” His cocky personality was back when he sent you a wink. He looked being in control, to be honest.

With no warning, you placed yourself so his cock was aligned. And it kinda hurt because of how fucking big he is. But his reaction was priceless.

You were full of him already, cum coming out of you. “I-..I.. shit.” He couldn’t believe he just came from being inside you, overstimulation taking over him thanks to his second orgasm, but it just felt so right, he couldn’t stop himself from rocking your hips back and forth using his cum as lubricant.

His cock touched places your fingers could never reach, each thrust and movement felt so good. He called out your name in a whine, his head falling back and taking this opportunity so you could mark his neck more. “IloveyouIloveyousofuckin’muchprincess” He was the first to say those three words, bringing butterflies to your tummy after some time of confessing your feelings to the others. “You’remakin’mefeels’goodmygod.” His cries were because he couldn’t take it anymore, filling you up for a second time. And you swear you looked down and there was a clear bump in your tummy because of how full you were. Making itself more prominent each thrust Satoru gave you.

“Ohyeahbaby…Use me as your fuck toy- shit-i’m yours baby.” He never stopped praising you, not until you came and rested your slumpy body on top of his. Your breathings synchronizing with the other, his heartbeat was audible. His arms wrapped around you like a bear. “Satoru- I need to clean myself-”

“I will clean you- Just… let’s stay some time more like this, please. I want to feel you.” His head rested on top of yours while he drew figures in your back with his fingers. “You’re so… perfect.” He said before giving a peck on your forehead.

“Satoru…?”

“Yeah baby?”

“Are you hard again?”

Millionth fuck.

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sunflowersandsapphires · 1 year ago

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Drunk on You

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader

summary: After losing a bet, Frank's drunk night turns into a nightmare when he accidentally leaves a VERY honest voicemail on your phone. (Prompt: "I need to see your phone.")

warnings: swearing, excessive drinking (do NOT do this.), Frank being affectionate

a/n: This wasn't requested by anyone, I just saw this prompt and immediately pictured Frank freaking out about a voicemail he left on someone's phone. A huge shout out to @gracethyomen and @madschiavelique who I forced into beta-ing this for me multiple times. As always, comments and reblogs are appreciated. Thank you!

w/c: 6k (Yah, i know. I got carried away.)

Frank liked to think that he was decently romantic—so it was almost embarrassing that your relationship happened by accident.

He didn’t possess a natural charm, like the one that Red always flaunted, but he could usually hold his own when he found someone attractive. Before…everything, his cocky attitude and unjustified youthful arrogance helped him flirt with Maria. Since the loss of his family, flirting was more of a pastime. Until you.

From the moment you both met, Frank had known that you were different—that you were never meant to be a casual fling. It terrified him, at first, but after many many lectures from Curtis, he was ready to try a relationship again.

Despite that fact, he could never seem to get the words out.

Flirting with you was as easy as pulling a trigger, but being honest and open about his feelings? Never his strong suit. He was just thankful that Curtis believed in boundaries and David was oblivious, otherwise you would’ve gotten the news through the grapevine weeks before he blurted it out.

It all started when David scolded him.

“Language, Castle. This is a family establishment.” His stern tone was completed with a pointed finger.

The two men were seated on opposite sides of the Lieberman’s sturdy dining room table, on the precipice of one of their classic “Family Dinner Spats”–a term Curtis had coined exasperatedly a few weekly meals ago. You, Sarah, and Curt were also currently at the table, nursing your wine while the kids played video games in the living room.

Smirking at David's tone, you raised a brow at the curly haired man. “Can you really call your suburban house an ‘establishment’?”

Frank chuckled at your attempt to defend him, his lips parting around the lip of his beer bottle in a smug smile.

“The house has been established, and there is a family present.” David snapped at you with a no-nonsense look. Looking at his wife incredulously, he threw his hands in a vague gesture. “C’mon Sarah, back me up!”

Sarah shrugged at him, grinning at his defeated groan. Shooting you and Frank a knowing look, she murmured, “We’ve all heard worse.“

Desperate for someone to agree with him, David glanced across the table pleadingly. “Curtis? C’mon man.”

Sighing, Curtis nodded, his lips twitching in a tiny smile. “You do have a foul mouth, Frank. There are children present.”

Frank scoffed, gesturing widely to the two teenagers in the other room.

Crinkling your nose as you stifled a laugh, you nodded solemnly. “They sort of have a point, Frank. Your vocabulary could make a sailor blush.”

Finally vindicated, David crowed, “You practically only speak in curses and grunts!”

The marine gaped. “Christ, I am not that bad.”

Smelling a game, David’s eyes glinted with mischief. “Oh yah? I bet you couldn’t go a week without swearing.

Sarah and Curtis took the vague challenge, and Frank’s responding bitter laugh, as their cue to leave the table, murmuring about cleaning up after dinner and chuckling to each other as they left. You, unfortunately, were far too intrigued to remove yourself from the conversation.

Good thing you were entertained, because David was far from finished with his accusations. “You know what? I don’t think you could even last a single day without that sinfully filthy language of yours, Castle.”

Frank rolled his eyes, but his jaw was tense. “Ya gonna make me a swear jar, Lieberman? What are you, my ma?”

David shrugged, pleased at how easily he was able to get under the hulking man’s skin. “Someone has to teach you some manners.”

You tapped a finger on your chin, meeting David’s roguish gaze. “He’s right though, a swear jar would never compel him to change.”

David crossed his arms. “And you have a better suggestion?”

Frank glanced at you, brow raised in curiosity, lips pursed.

You grinned manically. “Maybe a drinking game? Every curse word he says within 24 hours means he takes a shot.”

The technician erupted in bellowing laughter. “YES!”

Ignoring him, Frank smirked at you. “Tryin’ to get me drunk, sweetheart?”

You placed a hand over your heart in mock surprise. “Don’t tell me you’re chicken, Frankie.”

The large man bristled, straightening his posture as he shook his head. “Course not.”

David was glowing. “So you accept?”

“Uh—“ Frank’s hesitation was quickly settled by your adorable expression, your head tilted at him as you anticipated his next move. “Fuck, I guess.”

Practically screeching, David pointed a finger at the man, looking at you excitedly. “Oh my god, that counts right? That totally counts!”

Laughing as David practically began a victory dance, you raised your glass of wine. ”Let the game begin!”

What had he gotten himself into?

Unfortunately for his liver, the next 24 hours did not get easier.

With the combined efforts of you, Curtis, David, and the various CCTV systems of New York city, the tally landed at 52 curses in 24 hours.

“Holy shit, Frank,” You gaped at the final count, turning to him with wide eyes. “Were you even trying?”

Frank glowered, sinking further into the booth next to you. “Yes.”

“Well, we’re gonna need to change these rules a bit. Otherwise, you’ll need a transplant by next week.” You frowned, eyes glowing with the light of David’s computer screen.

“Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft now, doll.” Frank muttered, the corner of his lips lifting up against his will.

“I’m always soft on you, tough guy.”Your words were earnest, causing Frank's throat to constrict. You raised a hand to pinch his cheek, seemingly unperturbed by his furious blush.

As if knowing he was ruining the moment, David returned to the table with a tray of half a dozen shot glasses. “Who’s ready to get wasted?”

Groaning, Frank dropped his head into his hands—his stomach already churning.

“New rules:” You announced, “No more than 7 drinks an hour.”

“Woah woah woah, who died and made you referee?” David scoffed.

“Everyone who has ever taken 52 shots in one night.” You retorted, refusing to change your mind.

While David began placing a row of tiny glasses in front of him, you took one of Frank's calloused hands in your much more delicate one. He raised his head to meet your serious gaze. “Hey, you do not have to do this. It was a stupid bet.” You were chewing on your bottom lip, his hand itched to cup your face and smooth the furrow in your brow.

“Um, he does so have to do this! I already put my card down. Drink up, asshole!” As David shoved the alcohol towards him, your arm shot out, acting as a barricade.

Looking at him with an inquisitive concern, you stroked your thumb over his knuckles. With a sigh, Frank grasped one of the shots between two fingers, downing it with a grimace.

David cheered. “Thattaboy! Drink up!!”

Biting your lip, you slid a single shot towards yourself and one to David. “If he’s going to do this, he’s not doing it alone. Drink up, Lieberman.” You teased, parroting his words before downing your own shot with a grace that was shocking and incredibly attractive.

“Damn, that’s smooth. You shelled out for us.” You snorted, setting the shit glass back on the sticky table.

Pouting at the tiny cup of clear liquid, David groaned. “I haven’t had tequila since college.”

“Sounds like you made a poor choice of beverage then. Drink!” You grinned at him, face warming as Frank slid an arm around your shoulders.

“She’s gotta point, Lieberman. You’ve dug your own grave. I ain’t drinkin’ another drop until you take that.” Frank smirked, eyes dancing with a mirth that you’d been missing.

“C’mon David!” You encouraged, the curly-haired man across from you finally nodding and downing the drink with a gag.

You and Frank cheered, laughing as he coughed in the aftermath.

“Alright, it’s gone. Your turn.” David nodded to the three remaining shots, crossing his arms impatiently.

Huffing out a breath, Frank tossed all three back, chasing the acrid taste with a swig of the beer he’d purchased himself without thinking. “There, ya fuckin’ happy now?”

“Thrilled.” David laughed. “We’re going to wait…15 minutes, and then I’m going to hustle you in pool.” Setting a timer on his watch, the engineer missed Frank’s exaggerated eye roll.

“Doesn’t a hustle require one party to not know they’re being hustled?” You asked, settling into Frank’s side with a smile.

“I could kick your ass with my eyes closed, Lieberman.” Frank snorted.

“Oh please, it's all geometry–I'm a whiz at geometry.”

Listening to them bicker, you couldn't help but smile. Sipping your beer, you crossed your legs, excited for the upcoming show.

As Frank's inhibitions grew steadily lower, you were joined at the booth by Curtis and Karen–both of whom were humored by the giant man's state, but not free of their own worry.

“Y’all trying to kill him?” Curtis chuckled, eyes focused on Frank's uncharacteristically wide grin as he slid into the booth across from you, beer in hand.

“Trust me, I’ve been negotiating Lieberman down all night to spare his intestines.” You huffed, your own gaze fixated on Frank as he lined up his next shot at the pool table, muscles bulging against his tight shirt as he bent over.

“See something you like?” Karen asked gleefully, lips curled in a smirk.

“Shut up,” You hissed, squirming in your seat as your body was hit with a flash of warmth.

“He's not making this easy for you, is he?” Curtis chuckled, sending Karen a knowing look.

“Does he always get so…touchy when he’s drunk?” You asked quietly, trying not to salivate as you got a perfect view of Frank's ass, his back turned towards you as he played his next turn.

Letting out a bark of laughter, Curtis shook his head at you.

“Oh stop it,” You groused, ignoring your friends' giggles as you slid off of the vinyl bench and made straight for the bar.

“Um whiskey. Neat, please.” You stammered out your order to the bartender, trying not to cringe at how disjointed the words sounded. Your mind was entirely preoccupied by the feelings you harbored for the man currently guffawing behind you. The scraping of glass on wood startled you out of your daydream.

Taking the glass from the bartender, trying not to meet their gaze as they eyed you suspiciously, you nodded a thank you.

Before you could return to your seat, a thick arm wrapped around your shoulders--a sensation that would've been horrifying had it not been accompanied by a familiar voice.

“When did ya start drinkin’ whiskey?” Frank's deep rasp ignited a heat deep in your gut, stealing the words straight off your tongue.

”I-I, uh didn't,“ You squeaked out, shoving the glass to Frank's chest. “I figured you’d want something other than mid-shelf tequila.” Looking up at him through thick lashes, your breath caught in your throat as you met his stare.

Frank's lips were tilted in a small smile, the tension he normally carried in his jaw nowhere to be found. His cheeks were flushed, his hair mussed from running his hands through it throughout the night. Boring into you, his beautiful ochre eyes crinkled with a happiness you rarely saw from the man.

A rough knuckle tipped your jaw upwards, shutting your mouth, which had apparently been hanging open as you admired the figure before you. “Somethin' on my face, sweetheart?”

Tilting his head, his eyes twinkled, his smile growing wider as you remained silent. “No, Frankie.”

“Good. C'mon, I need someone to cheer for me when I whup Lieberman's ass for a third time.” Frank snorted, pressing a kiss to your crown before taking your hand and dragging you towards the pool table.

The rest of the night flew by, a symptom of the intense focus you held on Frank's relaxed drunken nature. He'd been tipsy with you before, so you'd caught glimpses of this behavior from the man previously, but it would always catch you off guard to see him so...easygoing.

It wasn't that Frank wasn't affectionate, he was incredibly sweet, he just wasn't usually so forthcoming with his emotions. Nor was he normally content snuggling with you in public.

Rubbing his nose against your hair, Frank gave a sleepy hum before pulling back to down the rest of the ice water you'd forced into his grasp. His hand was gently gripping your waist, thumb tracing lines over your hip as your friends chatted. Frank was much too tired to be paying any attention, and your ability to retain any conversation topic flew out the window the moment his hand landed on your side.

Watching as his free hand lifted to clumsily scrub at his face, you frowned. “Wanna call it a night, Frank? You look ready to drop.”

“'M fine.” He grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. Shit, you'd hoped the water would stave off the impending headache for now.

“The kid's right.” David remarked, smirking at your offended scoff. “If I'm beat, you must be half dead. I'll go close the tab."

"Can the rest of you make it home ok if I handle this one?" You asked, kneading at Frank's neck as he dropped his head to your shoulder with a grumpy huff.

"Yah, we can get David home in one piece." Karen promised, squeezing Frank's arm as she passed. "Goodnight."

"Ok, tough guy. You gotta get out so I can get out," You murmured, nudging the marine as carefully as possible.

Grumbling under his breath, he slid out of the booth, grabbing the table as he listed sideways.

"Christ, Frankie. Hold on, I gotcha." You grunted as he leaned against you, his weight shifting you off balance. Wrapping an arm around his waist in a motion similar to the one he'd made mere minutes ago, you shuffled towards the door. "Ok, Castle, you gotta work with me a little bit here."

As the two of you neared the exit, you heard an indignant squawk from the bar. "I OWE HOW MUCH??"

Chuckling softly, Frank's skull knocked against yours. "We'd better get outta here, sweetheart."

The two of you made it back to Frank's tiny apartment without incident, though the man was stumbling all the way. When you reached his front door, he snatched his keys from his pocket, tossing them at you without a word.

Not expecting the projectile, the ring of keys hit you square in the chest, your chin following them as they crashed to the grimy carpet underneath your feet. Looking at Frank with narrowed eyes, you raised an eyebrow. “Was that really necessary?”

Frank chuckled quietly, his laugh as close to a giggle as it would probably ever get. His half-lidded eyes creased as he grinned at you. “Sorry,” The apology was undercut by the shit-eating expression on his face.

“Drag your ass all the way home, breaking my back doing so–mind you,” You complained halfheartedly, your chest swelling with fondness as Frank’s raspy laughs continued. “And you just throw your shit at me.”

Shaking your head, you let your smile betray you as he kissed your forehead. “You’re unbelievable, Castle.”

“Thanks for puttin’ up with me.” His stubble scratched your skin as he spoke, his lips still resting against your temple.

“Anytime, big guy.” Your eyes fell closed as his hand rubbed over your lower back.

After a minute, Frank spoke again. “Are ya gonna open the door, or am I gonna have to sleep in the hallway?”

“Jesus Christ.” You groused, breaking out of his hold to squat down and grab his keys.

Just like that, Frank was back in stitches, shifting his weight to the door frame as his body shook with near silent laughter.

Shoving the key in the lock, you opened the door and shoved at him gently. "Get in there, goofball."

Shuffling inside, Frank beelined for the couch, collapsing onto it with his boots still on. Rolling your eyes, you followed him in, crouching by his feet to start unlacing his shoes.

Wriggling on his stomach, he craned his neck to look at you. “Whattya doin'?”

“Taking your shoes off, Frankie.” You explained without stopping your actions.

Grumbling, he flapped an arm at you clumsily. “Leave 'em.”

Huffing with exasperated affection, you ignored him. "You'll be more comfortable if I take them off, Frank."

You received a disgruntled noise in response, but his arm stopped moving. Face squashed against a throw pillow, his eyes were closed and his pink lips were parted--soft breaths slipping in and out of them every so often.

Finally pulling his second boot off, you sat back on your heels with a satisfied sigh. Standing as quietly as you could, you strode to the tidy kitchen.

Given that you were well-acquainted with Frank's place, you moved around the apartment with ease, finding the sparse first aid kit that he possessed and making a mental note to bring some supplies by soon. Sure, Frank would manage—he was the most capable man you'd ever met—but you wanted to make his life easier in any way you could.

Which is why you grabbed a few individually wrapped pain pills and placed them on the coffee table, along with a glass of water. Now for the difficult part.

"Frank, I know you're comfy like this but you have to turn to your side for me." You spoke softly, running a hand up his arm and pushing in the direction he needed to turn.

"Hngh..." Frank protested sleepily. "Why?"

Stifling a smile at the grumpy face he made, you continued to push. "C'mon, you big baby. On your side, so you don't choke and die overnight."

Huffing frustratedly, Frank flopped onto his side, glaring at you.

“Thank you. Do you need a blanket?” You asked, laughing indignantly when he flipped you off. “That was an actual question, asshole.”

Standing up, you took a step towards the worn armchair on the other side of the coffee table, nearly tumbling over when a force tugged on your wrist. Eyes closed again, Frank was poorly hiding a smile as he yanked your arm towards him with more strength than his inebriated self should have been capable of.

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you feeling nice now?” You grumbled, balancing your weight over him precariously as you tried to escape his hold.

Tugging your arm again, Frank muttered a jumble of grouchy nonsense.

“Christ, Frank.” You snorted, rolling your eyes to the ceiling before sliding your palms underneath his shoulders to shift him over. Squishing onto the couch next to his head, you found yourself smiling as he wriggled towards you, settling his head into your lap with a relieved exhale. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a piece of work when you’re drunk?”

Your murmur was more for yourself than for him, but he responded nonetheless. “M’ria.”

It was far from the first time he’d spoken to you about his late wife, but hearing her name fall from his lips when he was in such a vulnerable state felt like a swift punch to the gut. Regaining your composure, you threaded your fingers into his hair. “Go to sleep, Frankie.”

As your nails softly scratched at his scalp, darkness crept into the corners of his vision, his eyes fluttering closed again.

The next few hours passed like fractions of a dream. A warm pliant surface beneath his cheek, a cool hand running through his hair. A whispered conversation and hushed groans. A loss of contact.

Somewhere in the haze of alcohol-induced fatigue, Curtis appeared, taking over your role as his babysitter. Curt was good at taking care of him...he was a lot less pretty than you were, though.

“Christ, I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that.” Curtis griped, insulted by comment Frank hadn't intended to share, shoving a bottle of some form of sports drink at him. “Drink this.”

Scowling, Frank took a long swig. As he was gulping down the sugary liquid, his eyes locked on a piece of fabric draped over the back of the couch. Setting the drink down, and nearly spilling it all over himself in the process, he grabbed clumsily for the coat, clutching it to his chest when his fingers finally landed around it. ”She forgot it.“

”What?“ Curtis, rubbing a knuckle between his brows, looked unamused.

”Her coat, Curt.“ Frank whispered, holding it out to show the other man. ”We gotta find her. She forgot it. It's winter.“

Shaking his head with a huff, Curtis dropped his head into his hands. ”I'm sure she'll be fine without it for a night. Go to sleep, Frank.“

Frank frowned, still focused on the piece of plastic in his hands.

Grappling his pocket, he eventually pulled out his phone and flipped it open, squinting at the bright screen as it powered on. Scrolling through the list of contacts, he found the one he wanted and dialed.

”Frank,“ Curtis sighed, but didn't stop him from calling you.

Receiving your voicemail, Frank groaned. “Sweetheart, you better not be frozen to death out there somewhere. You left your coat here. You gotta come and get it, ok? I don't want you to be cold.”

”Hang up and sleep, Castle.“ Called the medic from Frank's bedroom. When had he gone in there?

Ignoring his friend's explicit instructions, Frank sighed. “Please come back. I like having you here. You just...you take such good care of me, and I really don't deserve it, but you do it anyways, and--” The phone was snatched out of his hand.

“Frank says goodnight.” Curtis snapped into the phone before ending the call.

“Hey!” Frank glowered, fumbling for Curtis's hand to take the device back.

“Go to sleep, Frank. You can talk to her tomorrow. Trust me, you'll be grateful I took this away when you've sobered up. You don't need to be spilling your secrets to her over voicemail.“ Spreading a blanket over Frank, Curtis glared at him. ”Close your eyes, Marine. I am not playing games with you tonight.“

Rolling to his other side so that Curtis couldn't see him, he smirked at the other man's final snort. ”Real mature, Frank. I'm taking your bed. I'll be out to check on you every once in a while.“

As Curtis retreated into the other room, Frank waited impatiently, staring at the back of the couch until he heard a door close. Grinning in satisfaction, he withdrew his burner phone from his other pocket, opening it up and inputting your number.

“Sorry, Curt hung up the phone. I wasn't done talking to ya. I like talkin' to ya, it makes me feel...god, I'm bad at this. I dunno, sweetheart, you make me feel good...special. I haven't felt that way in a long damn time. But you just make it seem so easy. You make everything seem so easy...”

The intense rolling of his stomach is what ruptured his unconsciousness, igniting a spark of adrenaline powerful enough to carry him to the bathroom so he could collapse in front of the toilet.

God, he felt fucking awful. His head was pulsing with the beginnings of a migraine, his throat burned with acid as he emptied his stomach repeatedly. Moaning with regret, he slapped the lever to flush the toilet, sinking back against the cool porcelain of the bathtub behind him.

“Was wondering when that would happen. David owes me 20 bucks.” Curtis leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom with his arms crossed, smirking at Frank's evident misery.

“Glad I could help.” Frank muttered, digging the heel of his hand into one of his eyes in an attempt to offset some of the building pressure in his skull.

“You look like shit.” Curtis chuckled, passing him a glass of water and a bottle of painkillers.

“Fuck off.” Frank grumbled, rinsing out his mouth before throwing back a few pills.

“Well, clearly you're feeling more like yourself. Christ.” Curtis snorted.

“God, Curt, what happened last night?” Frank grimaced.

“Besides you drinking enough to kill a racehorse? Not much. Unless you count me discovering your collection of burner phones as ‘interesting’.”

Curtis’s words were innocuous, but Frank felt a wave of dread crash over him at the implications.

“What collection?“ He asked mournfully, hoping fiercely that Curt didn’t mean–

“The one you were using to call your girl.” Fuck. “Every time I turned around, there was a new phone in your hands. Can't say I didn't try to stop you from making an ass of yourself, you just managed to do it anyway.”

“Fuck!” Frank cursed. That was exactly what he was hoping to avoid. “Please tell me you're jokin'.”

“Unfortunately not, Frank.“ The other man laughed, but his brow pinched in sympathy. “You're gonna have some explaining to do, I expect.”

“Fuck me. What did I say?” He looked to his friend pleadingly, feeling like his impending doom was perched just over his shoulders.

“I didn't catch all of it, but the parts I heard were pretty damning.” Curtis rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding Frank’s intense eyes.

Mustering the dwindling energy he had, Frank lurched to his feet, stumbling towards the door. Thankfully, Curtis caught him when his balance faltered after a few steps.

“Woah, shit, Frank! Where are you goin'?” Curtis chastised preemptively, letting Frank lean against him as he ambled to the foyer.

“To apologize, or delete that message. Whatever needs to be done.” Frank’s jaw was stiff, his voice gruff with fear and discomfort. Undraping his arm from Curt’s shoulders, Frank bent down to grab his boots, halting as the motion caused a spike of pain to shoot through his brain. Clenching his fingers around his thighs, he bit his tongue to keep from hurling again.

“Jesus, Frank. This isn't a goddamn military operation.” Curt scoffed, kicking Frank’s shoes closer to him with a grunt.

Frank huffed a bitter laugh. “You're right, that would be easier.” Squatting down, Frank shoved his boots on and laced them up.

“You need serious help, you know that?” Curtis sighed, only waiting a moment before slipping his own shoes on. “C'mon. I'll drive you.”

Tipping your chin up, you let the final dregs of your latte trickle across your tongue, silently begging for those few drops to contain the caffeine you'd need for the rest of the day. You were practically giddy with lack of sleep and the immense amount of sugar you'd dumped into the coffee to make it palatable–you weren't used to so many extra espresso shots.

After looking out for Frank at the bar, wrangling him on the journey home, leaving abruptly to accompany your distraught roommate and her accident-prone boyfriend to the hospital, and then staying with said roommate all night while her boyfriend got a cast put over his broken arm–you were understandably exhausted. And, if you were honest with yourself, a bit aggravated that you'd been ripped away from Frank when he was so unusually receptive to your affection.

It wasn't as if you could just call Curtis and ask to switch roles again, it was almost noon. Frank would probably be up and hungover by now–far grouchier than the cuddly lump he'd become last night when he passed out on your lap. No use to mourn that loss any further, you supposed. It wouldn't be that hard to make him agree to another bet, after all.

Lounging on the couch, your eyes slipped shut for a moment, flying open in shock when you heard a knock at the door. Of course someone would show up right after you sat down. Inhaling deeply to keep from groaning, you dragged yourself off of the couch and to the door. Huh, speak of the devil.

Unlatching the door, you rested a hand on your hip as you took in the posture of the man before you. Frank looked awful, a perfect example of the saying “green around the gills”. He was slouched forward, barely meeting your gaze, and his complexion was so alarmingly pale that it was more translucent. Before you could ask what the hell he was doing on your doorstep, he spoke.

“I need to see your phone.” His tone was pained and especially gravelly, which made sense given how hungover he must be right now.

“Damn, Castle. Hello to you too.” You laughed, the humor of it not fully reaching your eyes as concern churned in your gut. Stepping out of the way, you allowed him to stride past you into the apartment.

Looking over his shoulder at you sheepishly, he cringed. “Sorry, hi. Your phone?”

Well he’s clearly on a mission. You had to admit, you were curious what he was so riled up about.

Your eyes narrowing, you gestured to where it sat on the counter, anchored by its designated cord. “It's charging. It died while I was running around last night and I just got home, so.” Frowning in confusion, you picked it up to show him.

“Thank god.” Frank let his face fall into his palms, collapsing onto your couch.

“Why do you need my phone, Frank?” Intrigue still piqued, you flicked a thumb across the screen to activate your phone.

Realizing he’d made a fatal error in his anguished haze, Frank swiveling in his seat, craning his neck just in time to see a massive grin break out across your face. “Shit wait–”

“Jesus Frank, are you ok? Why did you call me so many times?” You laughed, scrolling through the myriad of notifications you’d apparently missed from him.

“Sweetheart I'm begging you–” Standing on his wobbly legs, he hurried to remove the device from your hands, but it was too late.

“You left multiple voicemails?” You looked at him with an almost pompous smile, clearly taking satisfaction in his downfall.

“Please don’t–” He made for your phone, but his reflexes were lacking. Spinning just out of his reach, you raised the phone above your head victoriously.

“Voicemail number one!” You announced proudly, pressing play on the recording.

Frank’s voice sounded tinny through the small speakers, or maybe it was just being drowned out by the ringing in his ears. “You forgot your coat…”

“Aw, Frank, that's so sweet!” You spoke over the short message, your lip sticking out slightly as you looked at him with gratitude.

Stepping towards you with his palms displayed, he tried for a placating tone. “Yup. That was all, no need to listen to any more of–”

“Voicemail number 2!” You crowed, darting out of the kitchen as he grabbed wildly for the offending phone once more.

“Sorry, Curt hung up the phone...”

“This ain't funny.” Frank growled, scurrying after you into the living room “Turn those off!”

“You left them for me!” You giggled, holding the phone to your ear and squealing with delight at his first confession.

“You make everything seem so easy–”

“Aw, Frank–”

“It's so hard for me to focus when you're around–”

By the grace of some higher power, his drunk rambling cut off. Nearly keeling over, he leaned heavily against the back of your couch. “Thank Christ.”

“VOICEMAIL NUMBER 3!” You said gleefully, practically dancing with joy as Frank resumed chasing you.

“Goddamn it.” He muttered. He should have known he wasn’t that lucky.

“I can't stop thinkin' about ya–”

His words were coming back to him now, and it was crystal clear that he had very limited time to retrieve the phone before your relationship with him was irreparably damaged. Nearly bowling your coffee table over, he managed to snatch the hem of your sweatshirt, but you simply slipped out of it and resumed your lap of the space.

“I can never stop thinkin about ya–”

You leapt onto the couch and over the arm, making for your bedroom. How on earth were you this agile after last night? He was pretty sure this would be the last thing he ever did.

“I hope you made it home safe–”

You stumbled around your bed frame and Frank saw an opening.

“You shoulda stayed here with me–”

His eyes narrowed, vision tunneling like a predator’s. Frank bounded forward and your eyes widened as you realized he had you cornered.

“I'll always keep you safe–”

Finally, he arrived within the distance he needed, snatching you by the waist and spinning you into him. Your chests were pressed together, quivering with the force of labored breaths, but before he could hit the power button–

“Cause, I dunno, I just love ya, sweetheart. I'd never let anythin' happen to ya.”

His world blurred, his heart pounding so aggressively it felt like it was creeping out of his rib cage. It was done. It was over.

Panting, you looked up at him with a furrowed brow. His heart sank as he watched the realization crawl across your face.

“You...you love me?” You asked meekly as Frank took a step away from you.

His entire body felt like it was on fire, he couldn’t decide whether he needed to scream or be sick. An apology roosted on his tongue, but his mouth was too dry for the words to come out.

“You love me.” You murmured, looking at the phone as if it would explain his words for you.

“I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinkin'–” He choked out, scrambling backwards sloppily so that he wouldn’t witness your pity.

“Frank–” You spoke softly, the sympathetic edge to your words cutting his composure like a blade.

“Christ, I'll just go, I'm sorry–” He whispered, his throat tightening with immense regret.

“Frank” Your fingers suddenly wrapped around his wrist, turning him back to face you. He inhaled deeply, bracing himself for the rejection and subsequent loss of connection that he’d stupidly caused. But it never came.

Instead, your free hand cupped his neck, pulling his lips to meet yours. His knees wavered, nearly giving out as your soft lips met his. He was bombarded with surprise and affection and relief. Pulling back from him, you rubbed a finger over his nape and smiled softly.

“I love you too.”

“You–” He was too shocked to even ask a full question. His knees finally gave out and he fell against you.

“Woah, careful there, tough guy.” You chuckled, nudging him backwards so that he crumbled onto your mattress instead of taking you both to the ground.

Listing sideways onto your mattress, he let you prod at his limbs until he was fully seated. Bile was swiftly rising in his throat, but whether it was from the chase or the resulting emotions, he was unsure. Swallowing roughly, he grimaced.

Biting your lip, you let go of his wrist to stroke your blissfully cool fingers along his cheek. “Let me get you some water, ok? I’ll be right back.”

Eyes falling closed, Frank took a handful of measured breaths, lips twitching with a small smile despite his current agony. You loved him too. He had a feeling that he should be skeptical, but he was experiencing too much to consider that at the moment. For now, he would just accept this outcome, however miraculous it might seem.

Hearing your soft footsteps back into the room, he opened his eyes–immediately regretting it when his head convulsed with a renewed stab of pain. Moaning softly, he scrunched his eyes shut, bringing his thumbs up to his brows to knead them in the hope it would lessen the ache.

“Head bothering you?” Your voice was impossibly soft as you knelt by his side, gently prying one of his hands away from his face and pressed a cold glass into it.

“Yah. Sorry sweetheart, didn’t mean to crash here.”

“Don’t you dare apologize. I already texted Curt and told him you’d be staying here for a bit.” Pulling back your sheets on the other side of the bed, you propped yourself up next to him. “Tired?”

Grumbling affirmatively, Frank tilted his head into your shoulder, rolling as far into you as he could stomach. “But we should probably–”

“We got all the time in the world, sweetheart.” You stroked his stubbled chin languidly, smirking as his expression relaxed beneath your touch. “Just sleep. After last night, we both need it.”

“God, I love you.” He murmured, throwing an arm over your hips and letting you nestle in close.

You pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I love you too, Frank.”

Frank made a mental reminder to buy Lieberman a beer the next time they went out. He’d never admit it to David, but he was beyond grateful that his uninhibited self had finally made a move.

Feeling more content than he had in months, he let himself drift off to the sound of your soft breathing.

Thanks for reading!!

#frank castle #my writing #frank castle x reader #the punisher #marvel #nmcu #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle imagine #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x you #the punisher x reader #the punisher imagine #jon bernthal #jon bernthal fanfiction #fc

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iwroteyoualoveletter · 20 days ago

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HxH: The Apology You Didn't See

Gon, with his whole heart, apologizes to Killua after the Chimera Ant arc.

This whining on the floor scene is not his apology. It is a reaction to Killua bringing up the things that hurt him, after they undoubtedly talked about it, and rubbing salt into Gon’s guilt-ridden wounds. Notice that Gon doesn’t complain or say, “I already said sorry!” He just gets to his knees and apologizes, again. He is owning his mistakes, the ones Killua isn’t yet ready to let go of entirely, and Alluka scolds him for it. Her calling him out is the only reason Killua backtracks and says the most important line that proves a significant scene occurred between them off-screen: “You already apologized.”

In both the anime and the manga, the Japanese clearly says it: もう謝ってもらったし

The “mou” is the “already,” and interestingly enough, it’s put into a list by the use of “shi,” which functions a bit like “and” might: You apologized to me and Alluka is free because of you, by the way, she healed you.

Both Gon’s apology, and Alluka’s freedom, are clearly topics they’ve discussed before. Her ability is not. Why does he suddenly reveal it at this time? Unfortunately, this post isn’t about that; it’s about the apology we didn’t see, and more importantly, the promise we didn’t hear.

How do we know there was a promise?

Ging Freecss told us.

For all his flaws as a father, Ging gave Gon some solid advice about apologizing to one’s friends. There are rules. It’s more than just saying “sorry.” You have to say what you did, and more importantly, make a promise: you promise them what you’ll do next time, and then you keep that promise, no matter what.

It’s so important to Ging that Gon understands this, because even after telling him about Kaito’s ability, he tacks on: 謝り方間違えんなよ！！

It’s not just “don’t mess up your apology (or you'll be sent flying)," it’s “don’t mess up the way you apologize.” The action instead of the noun.

On his way to Kaito, thinking about his apology, we learn that Gon is thinking about Killua too. He tells Leorio that he owes Killua an apology because he said some really terrible things to him when he got all messed up fighting the enemy. Gon is highly aware he hurt his friend. He is not oblivious.

When Gon finally meets Kaito, we see him put his new knowledge of apologies into action. He says sorry, and when Kaito prompts, “What for?” Gon explicitly lays out what’s eating him up, “For not being able to fight alongside you, for not being strong enough. Next time, I’ll protect you!” He carries out the apology as best he can, even inspiring an eavesdropping ant to later own his mistakes to Kaito too.

The scene with Kaito is proof that Gon knows how to apologize to his friends, and that he is serious about making up for his faults. It’s existence is evidence that Gon apologized to Killua and made a promise to him too.

But why didn’t we get to see it? In my opinion, there are two potential reasons.

Reason 1: Togashi wants to leave it to our imagination.

It’s not uncommon for Japanese media to shy away from providing a perfectly polished emotional pay-off. Even in the romance genre, confessions are rarely explicit. The words “I love you!” might come out as, “The moon is beautiful tonight.” We know that Gon and Killua share an intense bond, and Togashi is well aware that people view their relationship through various lenses; to keep the apology and promise hidden, it allows each fan to insert what would make them happiest into the missing scene. It’s not a cop-out so much as a standard of Japanese storytelling. What can you read into the situation from what’s been implied? From the subtle? Between the lines?

It’s true that there might be a "right" answer in Togashi’s mind, but if he’s chosen to be vague intentionally for the sake of keeping fans content, we’ll never know it.

Unless!

Reason 2: Togashi will reveal the promise to us at a later date.

It has happened multiple times throughout the series that an event occurred, but we didn’t learn the details of the event until later. Just as an example off the top of my head, when Gon is knocked out in the final round of the Hunter Exam, Satotz has to tell him what happened after he wakes up. Even in that re-telling of events, another seed of mystery is planted when Gon learns that Hisoka gave up his match after whispering something in Kurapika’s ear. We don’t find out what it was for several more episodes. Togashi has deliberately kept information from readers for the purpose of future storytelling, and this might be one of those moments.

It’s very possible we’ll discover what Gon’s promise was to Killua in the future, and I wouldn’t be surprised if we found out about it from a 3rd party, like Alluka.

So, we know an apology was said and a promise made, but why did they have to separate?

That’s tied to the promises they’ve already made that we do know about.

Back in episode 38 of the anime, when leaving Whale Island, Gon tells Aunt Mito he’ll return after he’s met Ging. In episode 146, Killua tells Alluka he’s going to protect her from their family. As much as they want to stay together, and as much as we the viewers want them to stay together, it’s not the next right thing for them to do. It’s painful, but they need to spend some time apart. The day will come when they can be reunited. Alluka says it, Gon and Killua say it, and the lyrics of the song overlaying their parting say it:

いるよ傍に一番近く / I’m here, as close as I can be

今はただそれだけでいいから / For now, that’s enough

いつかそっと言いかけた / One day, you told me [about it] quietly,

夢の続きを聞かせてよ / Let me hear the rest of that dream

The vows they made to each other under the stars are not forgotten. Their separation only feels so long because Togashi’s health has made producing his manga inconsistent. Send him healing vibes, and be reassured that Gon and Killua will meet again. ♡

#hxh #hxh meta #media analysis #media literacy #killua zoldyck #gon freecss #killugon #gonkillu #hunter x hunter #The Defense of Gon Freecss #I think it’s such a disservice to Gon’s character to believe he is a bad friend or that he didn’t apologize #How did he apologize? That’s what fanfiction is for #I'm writing the fanfiction

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ckret2 · 3 months ago

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I have a public service announcement! No one's done this lately so it's not aimed at anyone specific—but that's why I'm posting now, so it doesn't single anyone out.

It's true that, in-universe, Bill's said he's apathetic about what gender humans see him as. But you and I aren't in his fictional universe; we're in the real universe.

And out here in our real universe, when someone discovers that a guy they've ONLY ever referred to with he/him pronouns actually has breasts under his shirt? If that person is a conservative, they might start calling this man "she." If that person is more progressive, sometimes they start calling him "they." Like they'll respect that he's trans but refuse to respect that he's transmasc.

And because we live out here in the real world where I'm sick and tired of watching this happen, I'm also sick and tired of watching it happen to characters I write with he/him pronouns. Because multiple times I have had readers—nominally pro-LGBT readers!—start calling a he/him character I write "they/them" the second I headcanon him as transmasc or give him physical traits associated with AFAB bodies, in spite of the pronouns they see me use for him.

You've never seen canon call Bill anything but he/him. You've never seen the guy who invented Bill call him anything but he/him. Except when I write from the perspective of a character who literally DOESN'T KNOW they're looking at Bill, you've never seen ME refer to my specific interpretation of Bill with anything but he/him pronouns.

(And not to get too serious over cartoons, but—if you can't get a character's pronouns right after seeing me use THOUSANDS of he/him pronouns for him—a character whom you were INTRODUCED TO with the correct pronouns and whom you likely ONLY called by the correct pronouns for years, right up until the moment you saw him drawn with tits & hips—if the mere knowledge of his anatomy is enough to completely overwrite every single time you've seen & heard his pronouns used—then I worry about how y'all would talk about an IRL transmasc guy if you could see immediately that he's AFAB and only hear his pronouns once.)

Knowingly using the wrong pronouns doesn't magically become woke when it's gender neutral wrong pronouns. Stop ignoring the only pronouns you've ever seen me or the show call Bill. Do not misgender the silly cartoon triangle in my inbox & comments.

Thank you.

I'll GRUDGINGLY tolerate calling Bill the wrong name, since I know sometimes y'all need to differentiate whether you're talking to me about the vague concept of canon Bill or, specifically, the copy of Bill undergoing the events in my fic, and using his in-fic "this is the name used by PEOPLE WHO DON'T KNOW WHO HE IS" nickname is convenient for that.

But I'd prefer it if you just said, like, "your Bill" or "Bill in your fic"—or, hell, just plain old "Bill" if it's already clear we're talking about my interpretation or my fic. He is Bill. Bill is his name. The name by which he goes is Bill. It grosses me out when people only call him by another name as if he's a different character altogether.

If you do call Bill a different name, please know: 1) I dislike that; 2) I never wanna see it outside of contexts where it's necessary for clarity; and 3) even if you're calling him the wrong name out of grammatical necessity, it's still the wrong name.

EDIT: I'm disabling reblogs on this post because people who don't even watch gravity falls, much less read this fic, have started trying to signal boost it. "Don't they/them transmasc he/hims" is an important message that should be spread, but it isn't the message of this post. The message of this post is "you know how people they/them transmasc he/hims? Don't do that to my fanfic cartoon character." This post is not for anybody who doesn't read my fic. Don't try to use a post about a Disney cartoon fanfic as a social activism message.

There are posts out there whose message is "don't they/them transmasc he/hims." If you want to spread that message, that's commendable, and you should find one of those posts or write your own.

#(disclaimer: if you've ever they/themmed the he/him and you're worried you're on my hypothetical shitlist or something:)#(i literally don't remember which people did this because my brain throws away usernames like it's junk mail. so you're fine.)#(previously i've tried to deal with this issue by passive aggressively he/himming Bill half a dozen times on asks that call him 'they'—)#(—but i decided. maybe i should communicate with words. by saying what i think. that seems more productive.)#(I've been meaning to make this post for months; but i'm posting several chapters in pacifica's POV where she doesn't know his real name—)#(—followed immediately by several chapters from agent powers's POV where he doesn't know bill's real pronouns; so it's relevant right now.)#(wanted to get this out BEFORE those chapters got into people's brains.)#bill goldilocks cipher #about my writing #reference #my art

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haetrack · 1 year ago

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self control (m)

jung jaehyun x f!reader x mark lee

wc: 7.8k

warnings: smut (MDNI), fwb!jaehyun, mark has a crush on reader, fingering, light exhibition, light voyeurism, implied masturbation (male), threesome, oral (both receiving), doggy style, unprotected sex, reader is on the pill, jaehyun pushes mark around, possessiveness, barely there spanking, multiple orgasms, dom!jaehyun, switch!reader, switch!mark

a/n: this has been stuck in my head for so long and thinking abt jaehyun scares me bc i want him so bad. anyways i hope u find this a little hot… i did…

to say that you had an… interesting relationship with mark lee would be an understatement.

the shy glances, flushed cheeks, his stutters that come out while you both talk. it would be obvious to anyone that he has somewhat of a crush on you. you can see it too, but it’s not something you really want to acknowledge yet. you wouldn’t say there’s an obstacle in the way because that would be a little mean, but there is definitely a problem.

your friend (with benefits) happens to be one of mark’s own friends, jung jaehyun. to say the least, he’s certainly just a man. blissfully unaware of the tension between you and mark, oblivious to how he seems to ward away mark from coming near you. you can’t say it’s just jaehyun’s fault though, you don’t tell him to mind his business when mark tries to talk to you, you don’t shoo him away when he wraps an arm around your waist in front of mark.

it’s one night where you both are at a party, whispering in each other's ears. you’ve been teasing each other all night, no one making any moves to see who breaks first. it’s not until jaehyun tells you how mark is looking at the both of you, wishing that he could be the one next to you right now. you drag jaehyun to a bedroom upstairs, not missing how mark’s eyes follow the two of you.

so maybe jaehyun isn’t as oblivious as you thought.

“have you noticed how mark’s been staring at you more?” jaehyun questions, fiddling with the vinyl player in his room.

you pointedly glare at the back of his head, “mmm, not really? what do you mean?”

“the times i’ve invited you to come and hangout, he always just seems to be looking at you,” he finishes cleaning up his vinyl player, moving to choose an album from his vast collection.

you hum, seemingly uninterested, “at the party you did tell me that he was staring at us.”

his eyebrows furrow, “not at us. at you. he was staring at you.”

as much as you want to look disinterested, you can’t help the large grin that forms, “are you jealous, jaehyun?”

he huffs, messing with the needle of the player before the familiar tune of a frank ocean album begins, “not jealous. not when only i get to have you in my room like this.”

he moves to where you’re laying on his bed, a teasing smile adorned on your face. you move from your spot to kiss him, but he pins you back down, giving you a kiss of his own. his body moves to hover over yours, deepening the kiss, pulling away when you need a breath, “i’ll make sure mark never gets to have you fully like this. i’ll put him in his place if i need to.”

after jaehyun successfully makes you cum on his fingers, he lets you know of his plan. you give him a questioning look, but all he responds with is a proud smile on his face. “like i said,” he runs his fingers along your sides, “i want him to see what i do for you.”

as if he could be any more vague, he refuses to answer your question, deciding to cradle you in his arms instead. it’s not that you mind, but his words could mean literally anything. you think it’s quite obvious what kind of relationship you and jaehyun have, so what more needs to be shown? you have your question answered when your over at johnny’s apartment with a few other friends. on your way there, jaehyun tells you that mark is going to be there, and you just playfully roll your eyes at him.

“you seem too excited about this,” you hum.

“i have about fifty things i could do with you tonight, of course i’m excited,” he says, subtle excitement in his voice.

his words leave your mind when you approach mark while everyone argues about what movie to watch. mark didn’t join the arguing, choosing to sit back and watch everyone while laughing at their words. he promptly shuts his mouth when he sees you coming his way. you greet him, and he smiles at you, nervously laughing.

“can’t believe how you guys can get along so well when you argue like this over a movie,” you laugh.

mark clears his throat before speaking, “yeah, um, they’re always like this. i just got so used to it because i realized how funny it gets.”

at his words, you turn and see jaehyun criticizing every movie that is recommended, but when they ask him what to watch, he just stands there, mouth hanging open. you turn to look at mark, which causes both of you to burst out laughing. at the sound of your laugh, jaehyun whips his head around and sees the two of you hunched together. he doesn’t look angry, but there’s definitely an off-putting smile on his face.

in the corner of your eye, you can see mark straighten up at the sight of jaehyun. before jaehyun can turn around, you lean slightly into mark’s side, seeing how far you can push jaehyun. he just turns the other way.

they decide on a random avengers movie that you don’t really know. you don’t care, as you sit with jaehyun and mess with his fingers. you see that mark has moved closer to the tv, probably more interested in the movie than anyone else. he’s on a different couch than you and jaehyun.

the only reason you’re not asleep like almost everyone else is is due to the fact that around halfway through, jaehyun drapes a blanket over the both of you. it’s subtle, looking like you were just cold. you know what jaehyun really wants when he puts a hand on your thigh and squeezes. you try to send a pointed glare at him, but he’s making sure everyone is asleep or on their phones. you notice mark is the only one really paying attention.

he trails his hand higher on your thigh before whispering in your ear, “pay attention to the movie. try not to make too much noise, pretty girl.”

once his words register in your head, you realize that he wants you to make just a little noise. connecting the dots, you realize he wants mark to hear you in order to get him to look at you. he wants mark to see how good he’s making you feel.

heat rushes all over your body at the realization, and it only intensifies when jaehyun’s hand slides under the waistband of your pants. you give him one last pleading look before you try to focus on the screen in front of you. his hand cups your warmth, feeling the small patch of wetness already formed. out of the corner of your eye, you see him smile.

you become hyperaware of yourself when he starts rubbing your clothed clit, one of your hands moving under the blanket to grip onto his arm. you let out a shaky breath when he pulls your panties aside for better access. you didn’t realize how wet you were, not until he puts a finger inside with ease.

a small, broken whimper escapes you as he plunges his finger in and out of you, his palm rubbing your clit with the movement. you spread your legs more open, silently telling him you needed more. he complies, satisfied with your cooperation. he whispers to you one more time, “my baby is doing so good for me. so dirty, getting herself off in front of all these people. in front of mark.”

a whine escapes you before you can stop it, and you shove your face into jaehyun’s shoulder out of embarrassment. with you no longer looking around, he decides to move his fingers faster, making sure to curl them to hit that spot inside of you. you’re clenching tightly around his fingers, his hand slick with how wet you are. you keep making small noises, small slips of his name falling from your mouth.

moving his eyes towards the screen so that mark is in his peripheral, he continues. jaehyun wouldn’t normally do this, putting you on display for just anybody. he’s doing it because he knows mark wants you, thinking he could just take you away from him. his competitiveness comes roaring its head, having to show mark who you need more.

when a slightly loud whimper escapes you, jaehyun can see marks vision pulling away from the tv, looking back at you first. jaehyun moves to grab his phone, seemingly unconcerned. he can still see mark, him looking worried for you. it’s not until mark sees movement under the blanket, your face shoved into jaehyun’s side, and a small smile on jaehyun’s face that he’s able to piece it together.

jaehyun can tell you’re about to cum, your hips moving against his fingers. all while mark doesn’t turn to look away from the sight of you. you’re letting out small, jumbled words along the lines of please, need to cum, jaehyun please, hurry. jaehyun could never deny you, so he places a kiss on the top of your head and sighs out, “go ahead and cum for me, pretty.”

you let out a muffled moan, jaehyun lightly shushes you as you let go, cumming over his fingers. he helps you ride out your orgasm while mark rushes off down the hall to the bathroom. jaehyun chuckles down at the sight of you, all mussed up. once you come down from your high, you send him a pointed stare, “you’re such a jerk.”

he pulls his hand out from under the blanket up to his mouth, cleaning his fingers off from your cum. “i think mark saw us, he ran off to the restroom,” you gape at him, “think if you walked past the restroom you could probably hear him getting off to the thought of you right now.”

as much as you try to not let your curiosity get the best of you, you can’t help it. you reach over to johnny and ask if you could borrow a charger for your phone. he says there’s one in his room, that you could use it there. you thank him as you make your way down the same hallway, tiptoeing by the restroom. you carefully press your ear to the door. you can hear a low groan of your name followed by a whispered feels so good- fuck, please.

your face feels warm as you go and grab the charger, moving away from the pretty sounds that mark’s making.

the first time you see mark after the incident at johnny’s apartment, he couldn’t even look you in the eyes.

well, he could, but it was followed by a light blush coating his cheeks. it’s a rare scene to see you at a party without jaehyun attached to your side, but mark doesn’t really mind. he doesn’t feel too nervous, but the image of you cumming has been replaying in his head. he can’t mess this up, can’t let go of this opportunity with just you alone.

“so, where are your friends?” you ask mark, sipping on the drink you’re holding.

“i’m just waiting for them, they should be coming soon.”

you hum, “wished you could’ve kept me more company, mark. i like being with you.”

“y-yeah? i like being with you- like, i mean, just us two.”

“better without jaehyun, huh?” you provoke him. he laughs and looks away, too embarrassed to admit the truth. it’s not like he’s scared of jaehyun, it’s more of… a respect thing? he’s not really sure if you two are dating or just have something going on, but he doesn’t want to intrude. but he can’t really help it, not when you’re you.

he’s known you for a while now, and even then, it was jaehyun who introduced you both. the way you look at him, the way you always seem to know what you want, your presence alone makes him think of you. but every time he tries to get close to you, there’s jaehyun, attaching himself to your side. even now, mark’s eyes occasionally drift to the door to see if jaehyun’s walked in.

you lean into his side, whispering into his ear, “i think i like us alone like this, too.”

you see a pretty shade of pink wash over his face, leaning more into his side. he looks down, and you look like how you were during the movie night. this time though, you’re by his side, not jaehyun’s. he tentatively wraps an arm around your side, trying to will his hands not to shake. there you both are, at the corner of the room, just like how he always sees you.

he hears you softly call his name, and while looking at you, he sees an almost hazy look on your face. he realizes how warm you feel, looks at how you glance down to his lips, back up to his eyes. you look so tempting, there’s so many things he wants to do with you. before he can turn you against the wall to kiss you, he sees the door open out of the corner of his eye. there’s jaehyun, staring at the both of you.

against his own will, he pulls away from you. you smile back up at him before turning to jaehyun, who motions for you to join him upstairs. “maybe next time you’ll be able to join us, mark.”

before he can say anything else, you say, “promise.”

he nods and you walk away from him, weaving through other people. you wave at him before you disappear, and he’s once again alone, waiting for his friends. he lets out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding, wishing once again that he was the one leading you upstairs. he can feel his self control slip away.

he downs all of the drink in his cup, the concoction too strong and burns going down his throat. he waits a bit before stalking up the stairs, finding the room you two were in. his hand reaches for the doorknob, but ultimately decides to stop when he hears the tailend of your conversation.

“...imagine if mark was outside the door, so desperate to hear your sounds,” mark hears a small whimper come out of you, “he’d be so hard, wishing he was the one who had you like this.”

the conversation ends, both of you too busy with one another to continue thinking about mark. mark can feel himself getting hard in his suddenly too tight pants. he brings a hand down to the front of his pants and squeezes, begging his mind and heart to stop racing. he can’t let this keep happening to him.

the next time you see mark, it’s a surprise for you and jaehyun. you’re both lounging around in your apartment, too lazy to actually do anything. as you’re scrolling through videos on your phone, you get a text.

mark: yoooo

mark: i was just wondering if you were busy or anything

you smile. and jaehyun, being too nosy for his own good, asks who just texted you. you quickly show him the messages you got from mark and jaehyun looks just as giddy as you. you type out that jaehyun is with you at your apartment.

mark: oh haha

mark: i wanted to see if you were alone

you: jaehyun says its fine with him if you want to come over

he doesn’t text back after that, so you assume that he’s given up on meeting with you. you assume he wanted to see if you really meant what you said at the party. you didn’t tell jaehyun what happened, but he did see you two together. it only makes it more exciting that there’s a small secret between the two of you. a few more minutes pass, and you don’t expect anything anymore.

it’s not until you hear a knock at the door that you sit up. jaehyun looks at you, and you tell him to go somewhere else. he sulks at you, but he obliges, opting to move to the bathroom. you calm yourself down before opening the door, seeing an almost apologetic-looking mark. it’s almost apologetic, save for the small twinge of emotion in his eyes that you can’t quite place.

“sorry for coming unannounced, i just wanted, um, to talk to you, i guess.”

“yeah, of course, come right in.” you let him inside, beckoning for him to sit on the couch with you. he looks a little hesitant before sitting down, opting to sit as furthest as he can from you.

“so… where’s jaehyun?

“in the restroom, he’ll probably be back in a bit,” you say, and he nods to your words. it feels awkward, and you’re not someone who gets awkward easily. mark turns to look at you, opens his mouth, and closes it. you laugh a little, “take a deep breath, mark. it’s just you and me in here.”

and jaehyun, mark thinks stubbornly to himself. he does take a breath, and faces you once more. it’s just you two, and the sight of you encourages him to continue. “i wanted to talk about what you said at the party,” he says, with no nervousness present in his voice, “just some clarification.”

“i meant everything i said, mark. i like being with you, even if it’s not always us alone.”

before he can respond to you, the bathroom door opens, and jaehyun walks over as if mark wasn’t sitting entirely too close to you (read: on the other side of the couch). mark looks back down to his lap, now too nervous with jaehyun’s presence. “how have you been, mark? haven’t seen you since the party the other night.”

jaehyun sits close to you, one hand making its way to your thigh, squeezing lightly. mark looks at the hand before looking to jaehyun, “i’ve been fine. just, kinda, wanted to talk to… to the both of you?”

“oh yeah? about what?” jaehyun says, a certain smugness in his voice that only you can detect. his hand moves across your skin, thumb rubbing the inner part of your thigh. you shudder, and mark doesn’t miss it.

“yeah, just about, like, the two of you?”

“well, can i be honest?” jaehyun starts, and you know he’s about to say something crazy, “to me, it looks like you like my pretty baby here.”

mark gapes at his words, mouth opening to stutter out denials and apologies. before he can do that though, jaehyun drags you fully onto his lap, pushing apart your legs with his own. mark’s breath gets caught in his throat at the sight of you, so pliant against jaehyun’s rough actions. “i saw you the other night, saw how you looked at her while she was cumming on my fingers.”

mark doesn’t say anything as he watches jaehyun drag his hands close to your core, stopping close to the place where you need him most. you squirm in his hold, a whimper threatening to slip out of your lips. you open your eyes to look at mark, finding he was already staring at you. the pink on his cheeks tells you all you need to know. he likes this.

“if you don’t want to see me get her off, you can leave. what do you think, baby?”

you whine, “i want mark to stay, want him to see me like this. want him, jaehyun.”

mark’s breath hitches, too affected by your words already. jaehyun chuckles lowly, and you feel the low vibrations against your back, “can’t believe you’re begging for another man when i’m right here,” he presses a kiss to the side of your face, “guess you’re gonna have to stay here, mark.”

you whisper out a please to him, and mark can’t say no, not when you’re looking at him with such need in your eyes. he’ll do anything in order to touch you, to feel you. “y-yeah, no, i-i’ll stay.”

“you can’t touch until either of us say you can,” jaehyun says while moving to rest on the arm of the couch, pulling you along with him, “gonna have to learn how to make my baby feel good, right?”

mark nods along, mind moving too fast to properly respond.

jaehyun pulls down your shorts, leaving you in just your panties and the loose shirt you have on. mark takes it all in, takes in how you’re already soaked through your panties, waiting so patiently to be touched, “my baby always gets so wet, she can’t hide how bad she wants you.”

before you can start whining louder, he circles his thumb over your clit, a moan cutting you off. jaehyun scoffs, “guess she needs two people to make her satisfied.”

mark’s breath gets heavy as he sees you writhing around in pleasure only from light touches. how badly he wants to reach and take over, giving you everything that you need. jaehyun doesn’t follow that line of thought, taking his time and dragging it out. “please, jaehyun. need you to touch me already, need you so bad-”

“what do you think, mark? do you think my baby should get what she wants?”

and for the first time, mark speaks up, “t-touch her already, she’s asking so nicely.” you thank him loudly when jaehyun moves to take off your panties. you look at him differently than how you usually do, your teasing eyes that are usually filled with confidence as you talk to mark. but here, your eyes are filled with compliance and neediness.

mark can now see your glistening folds, how you clench around nothing when you spot him staring. if it were up to him, he’d already have his hands and mouth on you. but with jaehyun here, he has to sit and watch, gripping onto his thighs, hoping he’ll get a chance to touch you.

jaehyun leans down to whisper something in your ear, causing you to nod fervently at his words. “my baby wants you to eat her out. think you can do that, mark?”

mark nods slowly. jaehyun moves to have you both seated properly on the couch, mark moving to sit on his knees on the floor. you’ve thought of the sight of him on his knees for you too many times since you heard him in the bathroom that night. to finally get to see him like this, just for you, has you letting out a small whimper.

mark takes the sight of you in, having you like this in real life better than anything he could’ve imagined. he scoots towards you, so close you can feel the heat of his face on you. he reaches forward, his tongue licking up your wet slit. “jesus, so fucking sweet, so wet.”

before you can register his words, his thumbs move to open up your cunt before he dives in, mouth everywhere he can reach. he slurps up the slick at your entrance, tongue prodding at the tight hole. he wonders if he’ll be able to fuck you, wonders if you’ll clench tightly around his cock like you’re doing with his tongue.

he moves up to suck on your clit, two fingers moving to your entrance. through your bleary eyes, you can see mark silently asking if he can finger you. he looks desperate through his hooded eyes, and if you focus a little harder, you can see how he’s straining against his shorts. you nod desperately, and mark responds by sliding his fingers slowly in, the feeling of your tight walls too much for his mind.

mark can’t really tell what he’s doing. it’s like he’s having an out of body experience, the sweet taste of your cunt being the closest thing to heaven. he can hear how messy he sounds eating you out, the squelch of his fingers moving inside you, the wet sound of his tongue sliding against you. it’s all too much, your mouth babbling out incoherent sentences to mark as he indulges in you.

you can feel yourself getting closer, every part of your body feels sensitive to the touch. you can feel the hard grip mark has on your thighs, hearing the small groans and whimpers he lets out from your sweet pussy. you can feel how jaehyun is hard behind your back, he softly presses into you, body betraying him. the warmth of their two bodies against you only spurring you on more.

“i’m gonna cum, needa cum so bad. please, jaehyun! can mark make me cum?”

you can hear mark groan out a jesus before jaehyun responds, “i don’t know if you deserve it, pretty girl. do you?”

“please! been so good, i’ll be so good. just need to cum-” your begging breaks off into a loud moan as mark digs his face as close as possible into your pulsing pussy, affected by the sweet sound of your voice. jaehyun tries not to smile at the sight of the two of you, so desperate to get each other off. “i guess you can cum. mark is just gonna have to put in more work.”

if mark’s mouth wasn’t so preoccupied, he’d definitely groan in annoyance at jaehyun’s words. he tries not to care though, because it’s his mouth that’s getting you off, not jaehyun’s. he wonders if jaehyun even does this for you, and if he does, mark knows he’s better than him. his thoughts are cut off by the harsh grip of your hands in his hair, pulling him close as you try to cum.

“i’m cumming! please- please d-don’t stop!”

as if he would ever deny you. he sucks at your clit, fingers prodding at the sweet spot inside of you as your thighs close around his head. mark feels how your body needs him, and it only pushes him further. he hears how you moan out his name as your hips grind against his face. he has to tell himself not to cum untouched like this, not to embarrass himself in front of you.

he helps you ride out your orgasm, lapping at your slit as he removes his fingers from you. you almost want him to keep going, not minding the slightly painful stimulation turning into pleasure. it’s not until jaehyun reaches over and threads his hands in mark’s hair, forcibly pulling him away from you. as much as you want to scold jaehyun for interrupting you, it’s more hot than anything seeing him so jealous.

mark sends jaehyun a challenging look, a small smirk playing on his face as jaehyun sweetly smiles back. how jaehyun can pretend to be so innocent baffles him, but mark lets it happen, more curious as to what will happen next.

“i don’t know about you, mark, but i’m gonna take her to the bedroom so i can fuck her,” you hit his chest at his vulgar words and he just laughs, “don’t know if my pretty girl would want you to join us.”

you look over to see how mark has reacted to his words, only to find mark staring back at you already. his eyes are pleading, hands gripping his thighs as you can see the noticeable bulge in his shorts. “mark helped me cum, wanna help him cum too, jaehyun.”

mark lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding while jaehyun contemplates on what to do. when he comes to a conclusion, he nods to himself while getting up, offering a hand to help you up. you both begin to move to your bedroom while mark just sits there, waiting for what to do. “are you coming, mark, or are you gonna keep her waiting?”

he rushes to catch up the both of you, seeing how you’re already laying in bed with jaehyun once again behind you. mark tries not to let it get to him, but jaehyun always manages to be right fucking next to you all the time. mark stands awkwardly at the door, not really knowing what to do. he feels your eyes staring at his bulge, his hands moving to cover himself as if he didn’t just eat you out.

“so here’s what going to happen,” jaehyun starts, looking at your body laid against him, “she wants you to fuck her, but i’ll leave it up to her if she wants you raw or not.”

mark has to stop the gasp trying to come out of his mouth. he never thought that he’d even get to fuck you, but now there’s a possiblity that he’ll get to fuck you raw? all he can do is nod at jaehyun’s words and look at you dazedly, tongue wetting his lips.

“come here, baby. come over to me.”

as far as mark knows, you don’t call jaehyun baby. the petname has his mind reeling, body unknowingly moving towards you. he sits at the edge of your bed, admiring the look of your body only covered in a t-shirt. he trails a hand up your thigh and sees out the corner of his eye that jaehyun’s watching him carefully. “will you take off your clothes for me? let me see all of you?”

mark mutters a small fuck as he turns away from you to undress. jaehyun has never seen you like this, more in control over mark. he lets it happen, doesn’t scold you for trying to take over. he can see how focused you are on watching mark, sees how your eyes glaze over at the lines in his back and when he slowly turns around.

mark’s cock slaps against his abdomen when he pulls his boxers down. his tip is red and leaking, and if it weren’t for the promise of fucking him, you would’ve already had your mouth on him. he makes his way over to you, kneeling down in front of your body. you sit up, hand reaching over to lightly stroke his cock. his hips jut forward as a small whine leaves his mouth, his hand wrapping around your wrist.

“please, don’t tease me. i’ve been hard for so long i- i just need you already.”

his words knock the breath out of your lungs as you sit up to deeply kiss him. he moans into it, cups your face into his hands as he pulls you closer. jaehyun watches silently behind you both, watching how mark grinds his cock into your lower belly. jaehyun’s own hand moves to palm himself over his boxers, liking how you’re enjoying yourself.

it isn’t until he starts getting annoyed with how mark looks like he’s enjoying himself too much to where he drags you back down by the hip. you lay over his lap once more, looking up at him through your eyelashes. he gives you an innocent-looking smile as you roll your eyes in return. you shift up a little, looking back at mark.

he’s looking at you again, your swollen lips, your glistening folds. he then focuses on your covered chest, eyes glazed over, wondering how your boobs look. you smirk a little, before shifting to pull off your shirt. he groans when he sees how you weren’t wearing a bra the whole time. his hands automatically move to touch you, but jaehyun immediately stops him with, “can’t touch her, not until we say.”

“but i-”

“be patient, baby. i’ll let you touch as long as you’re good for me.”

you can see how hard mark gulps at your words, his cock twitching in response. he shifts closer to you, hips flush with yours. he’s staring hard, eyes moving to take in the sight of you. you’re getting impatient, the feeling of his cock so close to you proving to be too much.

before anything though, you beckon him down to you, whispering in his ear, “i’m on the pill, baby. i’ll let you cum in me.”

you can hear how his breathing picks up at the small exchange of words. his hands grab onto your thighs, moving one up to hook around his waist. he teases his head along your slit, holding back a whimper that threatens to come out of him. you squirm under him, pulsing around nothing as you wait for him to enter you.

“better hurry up, mark. if you don’t fuck her right now, i’ll just do it for you.” mark ignores his words, giving you one last look before he slowly pushes into you. you both moan in unison, your warm walls wrapping around his thick cock. you move your other thigh to his waist in order to push him into you more, causing his hips to stutter against you.

he’s trying hard to keep himself up over you. his face is scrunched up, biting down hard onto his lip to try not to cum too fast. you’re no different, neediness taking over as you clench around him, encouraging him to move. he moves slowly, trying to get accustomed to how tight you are. he can hear the whines and whimpers you let out, but he can’t do anything, mind too preoccupied with you.

“please, mark, need you to move already. need you to fuck me so bad.” he nods, but just swirls his hips against you, only making you needier. you can feel the low rumble of jaehyun’s laugh through your body, and it adds on to your pleasure.

“baby,” his moan cuts you off, “please?”

he opens his eyes to look at you, and despite the bleariness, he can see your pretty face, the tears in your eyes as you fight back against how good he feels. he moves himself back up, ignoring how shaky his arms are, and starts to pull slowly out of you. you whine at the emptiness, before he slams right back into you.

he tries to focus on your reactions, tries to see what exactly makes you feel the best, but your tight walls make it hard for him. when he does eventually find a pace that works for you, he continues to push himself into you, your previous orgasm helping him slide into you with ease. when he angles his hips a certain way, he can tell he’s hit your sweet spot, your hands moving to his back to claw at him.

he seethes at the pain, but refocuses his attention to you when you moan out his name. he moans when you mke eye contact, dick twitching inside of you as you let out an airy laugh, “you f-feel so good, baby. bet you wanted this for so long.”

he quickly nods, “thought about your pretty pussy so much, thought about you around me. like you so much, couldn’t help but think about you.”

against mark’s better judgment, he looks down to see how well you’re taking him in, how your pussy just sucks him in further. he moans out, and you laugh again, threading one of your hands in his hair to get him to look at you. “should’ve told me how much you needed me, could’ve helped you out a lot sooner.”

he lets out a small whimper, to your satisfaction. mark can’t look at you anymore, he feels himself getting too close already. his eyes look at your chest, how your boobs bounce every time he thrusts into you. before he can move a hand to you, he sees jaehyun’s larger hands move to your chest, groping at the flesh. you moan out loud, the added stimulation making you clench harshly around mark’s twitching cock.

if mark didn’t feel so weak right now, he’d move jaehyun’s hands out the way to replace them with his own. but with the way he feels himself getting closer to the edge, all he can do is let out small whines. “can’t believe i get to be here, can’t believe i’m the one fucking my girl right now.”

mark can’t see the way jaehyun’s eyes bore into him, but mark can feel you clench around him when jaehyun tweaks your nipples. mark’s getting fed up with jaehyun, the ache in his cock not helping his actions when he sees your eyes focused on jaehyun. mark can tell jaehyun feels the same way too, or else he wouldn’t have been touching you like he is now. in an almost out of character way, mark pushes himself up to kiss you, distracting you from jaehyun.

it’s messy, drool slipping down both of your chins, moaning in each other's mouth. mark mumbles into you, “wanna cum for my girl, wanna show you what i can give to you.”

you quickly nod along to his words, “please, baby. please cum in me, wanna feel you fill me up.”

he curses under his breath, your words filling up his head. he moves one hand down to your aching clit, wanting you to cum with him. you moan a mix of his name and pleas, your orgasm threatening to rip through you. mark can feel how hard you’re clenching around him, he can feel how he’s shaking, how jaehyun’s eyes focus on you. he’s rubbing against your clit messily, too overcome by pleasure, but that’s all it takes for you to cum around his cock.

it feels so tight, nothing has ever compared to this before. all the days and nights he’s spent fantasizing about this moment could never compare to how he’s feeling now. he cums quickly after you, hips rutting against your cunt as he spills his cum deep into you, cock throbbing. he tries to help you ride out your orgasm until he feels too sensitive, slowly slipping out of you.

he tries to ignore how his cum is slipping out of you, mixed with your cum. he can’t look away, and if he had the chance, he would eat you out again, his tongue slipping against you as he cleans up the mess you both made. before he can reach down though, jaehyun pulls you up next to his side and pushes mark out the way by his shoulder.

it’s embarrassing to be pushed around by jaehyun, but mark sees how your eyes follow him, filled with a lustful gaze. he blushes and looks away, trying not to think about the current dynamic you both have him in. mark now looks at jaehyun, who looks down at the sight of the both of you. no matter how much mark felt like he was in charge, jaehyun will always be behind it all.

jaehyun coos at you, “did my baby enjoy herself? did you like having another man inside you?”

you try not to nod, but you can’t help yourself, smiling to jaehyun with a challenge on your face. you can see the small smile mark has on his face as he moves to your side. jaehyun just stares at the both of you before he suddenly grabs you and pulls you closer to him, flipping you over. he has you bent over, ass in the air as you’re faced with mark, face dangerously close to his cock.

it’s embarrassing to be in this position, but you can help how you clench at the sight of how mark is looking down at you with pink cheeks. “i think i need to show my baby what she’s missing out on,” jaehyun starts, grabbing at your ass, “show her what she needs.”

jaehyun’s pants have been pulled down, his cock free from restraints as he teases your sensitive slit. you whimper out as he does, your head resting on mark’s thigh. he bring a hand to your cheek, thumb rubbing across the skin. jaehyun taps his dick at your entrance, teasing his head in before pulling it out. you’re sure he can see how messy it is, a mix of cum slipping out of you.

“didn’t realize you can be such a slut, didn’t know you needed two cocks to satisfy you.” you whine out in response, shaking your head at his claim. he just laughs as he enters you, “i know you better than you know yourself.”

you moan out at the stretch, the angle making him hit spots you’ve never felt before. you arch your back, and jaehyun takes in the sight of you as he lets out a low groan. mark feels it too, despite the fact that he came only a bit ago, he can feel his cock grow hard again. you lazily grin at him, and he can’t look you in the eye for more than three seconds.

jaehyun thrusts into you quickly, a harsh grip on your waist as he soothes a hand over your ass before slapping it. you let out a weak whine, and jaehyun roughly thrusts into you.

“you know, mark, we see- no, i see how much you look at her.” jaehyuns hips buck into yours, “and every time, i can see just how much she looks at you back.”

mark’s whole body feels hot, and he realizes that he’s fully hard again. you look up through your eyelashes to see mark’s cock standing tall, and you discreetly move forward to lick up his length. mark lets out a sharp whine, still sensitive from before, but pushes his hips towards you. jaehyun eyes both of you, not stopping your actions. “didn’t realize how needy she can be, she’d probably let you fuck her again if it weren’t for me,” he mumurs out.

you lick up mark’s cock, pressing a kiss to the tip before hovering over it, letting your mouth swallow around his head. he tries not to buck up into your mouth, but he can’t help the heat that envelopes his cock, hips pushing into your warm mouth. you try to fit as much of him you can in your mouth, proving to be hard with the man trying to fuck you into the sheets.

“sweet girl, go ahead and tell mark how bad you wanted him,” when he gets no response, he pulls out of you, causing you to whine out, moving away from mark. “look mark in the eyes and say it.”

“n-needed you, baby. even if i fucked jaehyun, still wanted you.” jaehyun hums behind you before slamming into you again. all mark can hear are your words repeating in his head and loud squelch of your wet pussy. he tentively pulls you towards his cock again, letting you swallow around his dick. he whines when you moan around him, the vibrations causing his whole body to shudder.

“even though she wanted you, she still came to me, begged me to fuck her pretty pussy every time.” you bob your head around mark’s cock, looking up at him to see hooded eyes peering down at you, struggling to keep them open. it’s like you came out of his dream, such a pretty girl who was made just for him.

you can feel jaehyun slip an arm towards your clit, fingers applying pressure to your clit in the exact way you like it. you have to pull off of mark completely in order to moan out, your hand replacing your mouth as you jerk him off. you clench around jaehyun, hips pushing back against him to get him deeper inside. he reaches down to press a soft kiss to your shoulder, encouraging you.

“will my pretty girl cum for me? gonna show mark how good i make you feel?” jaehyun says as he pushes your head down into the bed, his own movements losing control.

as much as mark wants to scoff at his words, he’s too close to cumming again, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he feels himself throb. your grip around him tightens around his tip as you lose yourself, and mark ruts up into your hand to help you out. with one last look, he sees your dazed look, sees how you mouth cum for me, baby.

he does, hot cum shooting over your hand and some onto your face. your hand moves slowly up and down, helping him ride out his orgasm as he lets out a groan of your name. jaehyun takes this as a sign to focus on you, angling his hips in a way he knows will get you to cum. you’re babbling now, a mix of both names tumbling out your mouth as you beg jaehyun to let you cum.

you can feel him throb inside of you, his lack of composure showing when there’s no rhythm to his thrusts. “i’m so close, jaehyun. so close! please, wanna cum for you!”

he sees you turn your head to look back at him, your eyes filled with only pleasure as he gives you what you want. he slows down, fingers moving quickly on your clit as he says, “show us just how good i make you feel.”

at his possessive words, you let go around him, loud moans as you mvoe against him. jaehyun can feel you clench around him, unable to fight off his orgasm as he fills you up once more. mark moves to hold your hand through your orgasm, the pretty sight of you cumming almost making him hard again.

jaehyun thrusts deeply into you a few more times, letting his cum sink deep inside of you. he pulls away from you, eyes following how his cum seeps out of you. he moves to push his cum back into you, and you whine out at the sensitivity. he laughs at you, moving to lay down next to your collapsed figure.

“i thought you could take the two of us?” he says, trying to hide another laugh.

“shut up, jaehyun.” you say into your now ruined bedsheets.

you push yourself up to his side, jaehyun wrapping an arm around you as you cuddle into his chest. through tired eyes, you can see how awkward mark looks, not really knowing what to do in his post-orgasm state. you smile at him, a hand reaching out to him as you pull him closer to you.

“i’d let you cuddle her-”

you cut jaehyun off, “don’t be rude jaehyun. my sweet boy did so well for us today. right, baby?”

mark blushes as he nods, cuddling up to the side of your body. his face nuzzles closely to your chest, enjoying the warmth of your body and the glow you seem to emit. with enough space, jaehyun cuddles the other side of you, letting you press your head into his shoulder, slow breaths being exchanged between you all.

in the silence of room, you hear jaehyun speak up, “so is mark just going to join us now, or…”

“jaehyun, please, just this once, stop being jealous.”

jaehyun huffs as mark laughs into your side.

taglist: @froggyforyoongi @mwahaechz (OMG ur new user is so cute)

sidenote: who would you guys end up dating, mark or jaehyun? i was debating the whole time but like... i seriously couldnt figure it out... but like... u know..

#nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #nct fic #jaehyun smut #nct jaehyun smut #mark lee smut #jaehyun x reader #mark lee x reader #jaehyun imagines

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