rviellvs

[rviellvs]

I'd love to comission you to write it, but the conversion to my currency is too expensive for me 😭 So I will have to settle with a request. I am stating this bc I really love your work and think you deserve to receive for it and I'm sorry I can't afford but super thankfull you allow request.

also sorry for blabbering so much I am nervous.

I was wondering if you could do a NSFW Bf!Chan x fem!Reader (pronouns can be she/her or they/them I'm okay with both).

So the settings would be around how Chan has many friends in the industry right? and he's superkind loves to help other and all.

basically a scenario where Chan loves to see his gf with others, and just takes her one day to a festival, or a music show or even Isaac and just has other idols take turns with his gf while he watches and fucks her in the end.

Thank you for taking your time and reading my prompt. I would love to see it written by you and hope you're okay with it. 💕

I had a somewhat similar request so I decided to just put two and two together. Sorry for the long wait!

"He Just loves to Share"

PAIRINGS: Bang Chan x fem!Reader x the rest of the stray kids members

GENRE: Mature, Smut 18+

CONTENT WARNINGS: established relationship, sex with multiple people, use of foul language.

WORD COUNT: 5.5k words of just pure filth tbh

SYNOPSIS: Chan just loves to share, and one of his fantasies is sharing you with the members.

A/N: I'm so sorry if this took too long to write. it was a whole rollercoaster ride while writing this and i had to take a few breaks from it LMAO but here it is!

smut warnings after the cut!

SMUT WARNINGS: use of the traffic light system for safety, p in v, spit as lube in some occasion, spit roasting, snowballing, oral (f. and m. rec), lots of praise, exhibitionism and cuckolding, creampies, cumshots, nipple play, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, anal, degradation, humiliation, hints of free use, masturbation (m.), dumbification, objectification, minho making sure reader's pussy is all loose (I'm aware that this is anatomically incorrect but i'm only adding this here for the filth)

Your sex life with Chan was something you consider far from bland. He has some sort of talent to find different ways to spice things up in the bedroom, and you're lucky that you share the same preferences as him, which made the two of you instantly click. So it doesn't surprise you when one day he suddenly suggests something new in the middle of fucking your brains out on a Saturday night when he came over.

"You look so fucking pretty like this," he comments with his hands on your waist, bouncing you on his cock, "your pussy's so good, I might let my other mates have a try, hm? Let them taste you a bit, let them watch. Would you like that, princess?"

You never once thought about something like that, inviting other people into your sex life, but then, we you think about it, a different set of eyes watching you, using you...

You unconsciously clench around your boyfriend's length, making him chuckle as he grips your waist tighter. "Yeah, you'd like that, won't you? Let daddy's friends take turns on you and fill you up?" A moan rips from your throat at that thought, cheeks heating up in sudden embarrassment, and yet you nod your head, your hips faltering from their pace as you near your orgasm.

You cum later that night, hard, with the thought of being used, the intensity making your whole body convulse. Later that week, Chan brings you to the recording studio, using Changbin and Han as your first trial to test the waters. In no time, Changbin has you riding his cock on the couch while Jisung's cock is in your mouth, letting them use you to get off while Chan only watches from his chair, squeezing his own cock to stop himself from cumming right away.

"This is the best fucking idea you've ever had, hyung," Jisung comments before shooting his load down your throat, Changbin following suit, his cum shooting against his abdomen as he pulls outs. You then get passed to your boyfriend who pulls you down into his lap, his cock plunging deep inside of you before painting your insides white.

"Jisung was right," you tell Chan on your drive home, spent with your limbs feeling like jelly, but content nonetheless. "This is probably the best idea you've ever had."

"Damn right, it is." He replies, giving your thigh a squeeze.

And then finally, it was the night. A few weeks after your initial encounter with 3racha, you decided that you were ready to be shared with the rest of Chan's members.

You find yourself at the dorms, sitting in the middle of Chan's bed, wearing the lingerie that he picked out for you earlier that day. You nibble on your bottom lip as you try to calm your breathing, nervous with multiple sets of eyes looking at your vulnerable form, and you're using every ounce of strength in you to stop yourself from covering your body.

"You ready, angel?" Chan's voice only brings you back to reality, his figure suddenly in front of you with his hand reaching out to cup your face. You hum as you nod, "Mmhmm, I trust you, Channie."

"Remember your safeword, okay? Can you tell me what it is?" His eyes are gentle as he looks into yours, patiently waiting with his hand resting on your leg. "Strawberry," you tell him, and he nods, satisfied. "Whenever you want to stop, just say the safeword and we'll stop right away, no questions asked. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Perfect," he smiles, his dimples showing. "Now be good."

You almost whine when Chan leaves your side, already missing his warmth, but then you weren't really given much time to dwell on it, not when Changbin is already hogging you up all to himself, his eyes hungrily eyeing your body, and his hands moving to greedily touch you.

"Hi, princess," he greets before gently laying you down on the bed. "I hope you don't mind me going first again." Changbin was rather impatient, but even so, he was kind enough to not rip your underwear apart, sliding it past your legs and feet before positioning himself right between your legs. "We gotta stretch you out with my big cock first before the others can have a go with you." You whine at that, remembering the stretch of his girth the last time you had him. It's not that Changbin is too large. In fact, his cock just has the perfect length— not too short, not too long, a length you can gladly take— but his girth is what makes it up for it. He's the thickest you've had.

"Let's open you up for a bit, hm?" His fingers slightly tickle the inside of your thighs as he admires the view of your cunt, your wetness already gathering at your entrance. "So fucking pretty."

"Hey, no fair. We wanna have a look too!" You can hear Jisung complain somewhere in the room before he finally appears right behind Changbin. The other members, Minho and Seungmin, wordlessly position themselves on opposite sides of you, the bed dipping at their weight. "Hello, kitten." Minho greets you briefly, his hand coming up to caress your cheek. Seungmin on the other hand joins Changbin in groping your thighs before holding you open, keeping you spread. "Gotta keep you spread open for us, Y/nnie." He says while Minho does the same thing, grabbing your other real and holding you by your thighs, leaving your poor cunt exposed.

Your heart quickens at your vulnerable state, your cheeks heating up making you cover your face in embarrassment. "Feeling shy, pretty girl?" Minho teases before he pries your hands away from your face. "Don't," is the only word he says, a gentle and warm smile decorating his face, but his eyes are hard, filled with lust and a carnal desire to absolutely ruin you, a desire he does so well to hold back. He will have his time later.

The feeling of Changbin spitting on your cunt catches your attention, your body unconsciously flinching at the sudden act. You turn your head just in time to watch him spread his saliva all over your cunt, his thumb accidentally brushing over your clit carelessly, making you shiver and whine, the slick feeling of spit making you feel the coldness of the room. "Gotta get you all nice and slippery for us, princess," he mindlessly says, his fingers prodding your entrance before slipping his middle finger in, the action making you clench around his fingers right away.

"You can put two inside right away, Bin. She can take it." You hear your boyfriend say almost smugly, and before you could even protest, Changbin follows right away, slipping a second finger in with ease. "You're hole is just too greedy, huh? Look at that, took Changbin-hyung's fingers too easily." You hear Seungmin comment, eyes fixated at the way his hyung is fingering you open, almost missing the way you whimper at his words and at the stretch you feel at your cunt.

"God, look at that pretty pussy," Jisung comments while he crawls by your legs. "Can I have a taste?" He flashes the best puppy-dog eyes he could ever muster at Changbin, pleading to his hyung to join in on the fun. "Yeah, sure," Changbin says, making space for the younger man who all but happily positions himself between your legs. "Try playing with her nipples, Seungmin," he directs the other, taking Seungmin's place by your hip and get's comfortable. Normally, Seungmin would fool around and be a little stubborn whenever Changbin would ask him to do something, but he decides to put it off for now. Besides, who wouldn't want to play with your pretty tits anyway?

The boys make quick work of changing their dynamic— Jisung with his pretty lips wrapped around your clit, Minho still holding your left leg up with Changbin on the right while his fingers pump in and out of your hole, and Seungmin pinching your nipple while he sucks on the other, tiny moans of appreciation sounding off of him. You, on the other hand, just lay there, taken captive by their touches that have your head spinning. And when Jisung sucks a bit harshly on your sensitive bundle of nerves paired with Changbin grazing your sweet spot, it has you moaning out loud, your hands moving to grab the sheets below you.

"F-fuck, Ji..." you moan out as you feel him flatten his tongue against you, savoring your taste. "Feels good?" you hear him ask, effectively catching your attention which made you look at him, and you were immediately blessed with the sight of him looking disheveled, his pupils blown out, and his lips and chin slick with your essence. "You like it when I eat you out while Changbin-hyung fingers your cunt?"

His words make you whine, hips shifting as you chase the feeling of Changbin fingering you open. He's three fingers in already, you didn't even realize that he'd manage to slip a third one, but it's already there, judging by how stretched out you already feel and your orgasm slowly building up. But you must have spaced out a bit, slightly overwhelmed by the plethora of pleasure that you feel because you barely even register Chan calling your name.

"Baby, how are you feeling? Color?" He checks in on you, and the boys pause what they were doing. Chan rubs your belly soothingly, bringing you back to him. "Color?" he repeats, looking at you intently for any signs of discomfort. "Green, Channie," you breathe out, putting your hand on top of his. "Just got a bit overwhelmed but I'm fine." You give him a reassuring smile, your thumb rubbing at his skin, and he gives you a nod, a kiss on the forehead, before retreating, letting the others continue.

"Such a good, good girl for us," one of them praises, their ministrations more gentle than before. You feel Minho laying kisses on your leg while Seungmin kisses you on your neck to your bare shoulders. Changbin and Jisung on the other hand focus on getting you to cum, which they manage to do after a few more flicks of Jisung's tongue on your clit and Changbin's fingers grazing your sweet spot. "That's it, princess. Good girl."

They all let you come down from your high before Changbin takes Jisung's spot, the others now left to give the two of you some space. You see how his length is painfully straining against his joggers, precum already budding at the tip and leaving a wet patch on the gray fabric. "Look at this, princess," Changbin says before palming himself through the fabric with a groan, closing his eyes momentarily at the relief. "Look how hard you got me just from fingering you."

God, he's so hot when he talks to you like that. Were you even allowed to think about your boyfriend's friend like that?

Before you can even think, your hands already move like it has a mind of its own. Your fingers graze the hem of his shirt, slightly tugging at him before muttering a shy "Take it off, please?" that has Changbin's heart doing summersaults in his chest. Who would deny your request when you've asked so nicely?

So he undresses, and the others who also want to get their dick wet tonight follow suit (including your boyfriend of course), giving you a moment to see how hard their cocks already are. You gulp, realizing that it's your first time seeing these much naked men in front of you, your cheeks heating up at the sudden vulnerability. But before you could even overthink it, you feel the familiar nudge of Changbin's cock against your hole. "Focus on me, doll," he says, breath slightly shuddering as he coats his dick with your wetness. "Pretend it's just you and me."

You did what you were told, drowning out the others from your vision as you wrap your arms around his neck. When he finally breaches you, you gasp, his thick cock spreading you open, and you were thankful that he took the time to finger you open early because God, he was just so thick, you felt like you'll be split in half.

Changbin bottoms out with a groan, sweat already accumulating on his temples and forehead. "So fucking tight around me, princess," grits out with a strained huff as he puts his forehead against yours. He lets you adjust around him for a moment, just like when you first rode him at the studio, and you appreciate his effort for holding back. When you tap his shoulder to tell him to move, he does so right away, shallowly pulling his hips back before pushing back in, testing the waters.

It wasn't long until you felt comfortable enough to let him fuck you, his quickening pace building up. "If only you can see yourself right now," he groans out, eyes fixated on the way you're stretched out on his cock. "Look so pretty like this on my cock."

"Mmngh— s-so big, Binnie. Fuck." You moan out, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he angles his hips up a bit. He smiles when he finally finds your sweet spot, now fucking you in a way where he's sure he's making you see stars. He wasn't wrong with that too. He is making you see stars with that thick cock of his, your pussy fluttering around his length as a warning that you're orgasm is already creeping near.

"I can feel you clenching around me, princess. Are you about to cum again, hm?" Changbin asks and you nod almost immediately, chanting out a garbled "please, please, please" to him.

"I'm afraid we can't let you cum yet, pretty." You hear your boyfriend say somewhere across the room, but you didn't have it in you to go look for him, too blinded by the pleasure Changbin's cock gives you. "We can't have you getting tired right away." You whine at that, tears pricking your eyes at the thought of your orgasm being denied. "Please, Channie. I wanna cum. You have to let me!"

"I'm sorry princess," Changbing grunts out, and your lips wobble at the realization that he's close to cumming. You could tell by the way his hips were starting to stutter. "But you've already cum around my fingers, didn't you? That should be enough for now."

"N-no, please. Binnie—" you pleaded, but it was too late, Changbin was already pulling out his soiled cock to jerk himself off to completion, and you find yourself in a love-hate situation of what's going on . You love it because you get to watch as he finally cums with a groan, fisting his cock quickly until he cums all over your cunt and stomach, and you feel the warmth of his release on your skin. You love how dirty it made you feel, especially when he uses his fingers to further spread it all over you. But, at the same time, you hate it— hate how he didn't made you cum, hate how he didn't fill you up. You feel the frustration as the warm feeling if your orgasm slowly fades away, making you whimper from frustration, throwing your head back to the pillows in frustration.

"It's okay, love. Don't cry." Chan goes right by your side again, thumbing away the tears that manage to escape your eyes. "We'll let you cum after, okay?" You tearfully nod with a pout, making Chan crack a smile as he smooths out your hair. "Atta girl, come here." It was Changbin who spoke next gently grabbing your face before prying your jaw open to slot his softening cock inside. "Clean it up for me, princess."

The taste of your own wetness mixed with his cum made you moan against him, now slowly moving your head up and down to clean him up, making sure to get every last bit of it. Distracted with Changbin's cock in your mouth, you didn't realize that Hyunjin was slotting himself between your legs until you feel his large hands prying you open.

"Let's clean you up too," is what he only says before placing kisses over your stomach and your mound that soon turn into licks, gathering Changbin's cum in his mouth. A choked-out moan leaves you when you feel him lap up the mess on your cunt, tongue swirling through your folds, obscene wet sounds and slurps filling the room. By the time Changbin pulls you away from his cock slick with your saliva, Hyunjin moves to kiss you, the cum in his mouth transferring to yours, making a mess. Spit and cum coat your mouth and chin, the salty taste of your juices and Changbin's release on your tongue was enough to make your head swirl. You realize the Hyunjin was already naked too, feeling his hardened cock nudging your thigh, spreading his precum all over your skin.

"Mind if I fuck you next, angel?" he asked between kisses to your neck and clavicle, his fingers delicately brushing against your skin, featherlight touches making you shiver. You nodded, a bit dazed, especially when he decided to suck at one of your nipples while he plays with the other. "Use your words, angel. Let me hear you."

"Yes," you breathe out shakily, "please fuck me." Hyunjin complies without missing a bit, sliding in right away. The length of his cock was making your toes curl. He may not be as thick as Changbin, but he was long, even longer than the length of your boyfriend's who's already above average.

"Bet you can feel me right... here." He presses his hand against your lower abdomen, making you feel him more, the pressure making you whimper. His cock was reaching the deepest parts of you without trying, making you wonder what it would be like if you sucked his dick— the thought makes your head swirl.

Hyunjin had a different way of fucking you compared to Changbin. He was slow but precise and attentive, paid more attention to your pleasure too. He made sure to touch you too while he fucks you, rubbing wet circles on your clit with the only intention of making you cum first before him.

And cum you did with a broken moan, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your walls pulse around his cock, coaxing Hyunjin's orgasm as well. He fills you up to the brim, his cum painting your walls with every throb. He only pulls out when it starts to get flaccid, only to get replaced by Jisung who clearly cannot contain himself any further, hurriedly pushing his cock inside before he starts fucking you through your overstimulation with reckless abandon.

"I'm s-sorry— fuck— can't help it. Been wanting to fuck you since that day," he whines out before his own arms give out, body nearly falling onto yours as he cages you in, desperately rutting his cock into your pussy. "F-feels so fucking good, holy shit, why does your pussy feel so good— FUCK!" He cums with a broken groan not long after, his intention not to last long but to finally cum because he'd been jacking off and edging himself for the last 30 minutes watching you take the others.

"Jesus, do you have no self-control?" Seungmin says with a roll of his eye before pushing Jisung away from you, forcing him to pull out his oversensitive dick. "You feeling okay, kitten?" You find Minho asking you, and through your dazed state, you find him right beside you, already naked, his hard cock standing tall and proud with precum already beading at that tip. You nod, mesmerized at how beautifully built his body was. You weren't blind to Minho's attractiveness, it wasn't really hard to miss. But it really was a different experience to see him bare. He truly looked like he was sculpted by the gods. The sight of his toned body, his tan skin, his softly defined abs, and the faint surgical scar that he has on his lower abdomen were enough to make you stare at him, taking in his beautiful figure.

"Look at you, so messy down here," Seungmin says as he looks at your ruined cunt, cum from the men who fucked you earlier now all mixed together, making a mess with your own wetness, ruining the sheets below you. It looked like it was simply too much for your poor pussy to handle, cum spilling out whenever you clench around nothing. "Think you can handle some more, pup? Hmm?" He asks, smearing the mess further into your cunt and into his throbbing cock as a lubricant before he teases your hole with the tip of it, slightly teasing you until your hips wriggle. "Please..." you whine out, already feeling breathless. "Put it in me. I-I need it, please."

Seungmin didn't need to be told twice, already pushing in with his lower lip caught between his teeth, the warmth of your cunt and the wetness making him shudder. "Don't forget about us too." You feel Minho's cock nudging your cheek, capturing your attention. The youngest, Jeongin, also joined in, stroking his cock while he positions himself on your other side. "Suck both of us off while Seungminnie fucks you. Can you do that for us?"

You didn't say anything, opening your mouth instead as you grab their cocks, jerking them off, before giving Minho's a small kitten lick at the head, the salty taste of his precum lingering on your tongue.

It was absolute madness to suck two people off while getting railed, the sensation making your head spin as you try to do your best to focus on the task in hand despite Seungmin's cock hitting all the right places, the threat of an orgasm already creeping near once again.

"Her mouth feels so good, hyung. Can't believe you had a slut like her and kept her away from us for so long," you hear Jeongin say, briefly looking at your boyfriend before throwing his head back in pleasure when your tongue licks the underside of his cock. "Yeah, hyung. Her damn cunt still feels so tight even though it's been used and filled to the brim. Such a damn cocksleeve, aren't ya?" Seungmin adds, momentarily pulling out to spank your pussy causing a surprised moan to rip through your throat, muffled by Minho's dick lodged deep inside, your lips pressing against his balls.

"What can I say, she's my good girl. She loves being a fucktoy. Isn't that right, Y/n?" Your boyfriend finally speaks out, and for a moment, you forgot that he was even there. Minho pulls you by the hair to pull you off his dick, spit connecting from his cock to your mouth strings out as you gasp for air, coughing a little bit as you try to speak. "Y-yes sir, luv it so much."

"Love it when I let my friends use you for a bit?"

"M-mmhmm," you tearfully reply, eyes rolling to the back of your head when Seungmin enters you again, this time plunging his cock deeper than before, making you cum around him so suddenly.

"Fucking hell, did you just cum?" he asks, but the sight of your legs twitching and your back arching off the ground was enough to answer his question. "Damn, you must really love Seungmin's cock in you. Don't you, kitten?" You hear Minho ask you, but he doesn't really let you answer, resorting to just immediately pushing you back down into his cock until you choke. Seungmin cums not long after with a groan, his orgasm strung by yours when your cunt clenched around him just right.

Felix then replaces him, rubbing the inside of your thighs to soothe you before he starts to enter you inch by inch. He was by far the most gentle out of all of them, praising you and playing with your nipples while he fucks you. "Been so good for all of us, Y/n. Such a good, good girl. Always wanting to please, hm? What's your color?"

"G-green," you tell him, and he smiles at you with that, relieved that you're feeling just as great as him. Just like his freckles, he made sure to give you as many kisses as he can give on your skin, soothing you the best he can. But of course, he doesn't last that long too, having teased himself moments before while watching Seungmin fuck you. He cums with a deep moan, one that almost shook you to the core. "There ya go, little one. Filled you up just right," he says with a grunt, his deep voice even deeper now that he's spent.

"Seungmin and Felix got you all filled up, kitten." Minho moans out, pulling you off his cock once again just to stop himself from cumming. "Get on all fours. It's my turn to fuck you."

You follow mindlessly, cum gushing out of your cunt as you move.

Minho enters you from behind with a hiss, goosebumps raising from his skin at the feeling of your wetness and cum that isn't his coat his cock. "Aww, your pussy feels a little looser now, kitty. Did Seungmin's cock finally stretch you out or are you just too used up now?" You whine at his words and shake your head. "'m not used up."

"Oh?" he says with a raised brow before suddenly putting 2 of his fingers in your cunt with ease. "Bet you can't even feel my fingers in your cunt right now, they went in a bit too easy for something you claim that isn't used up."

Oh god, his words do sting, but it only makes your pussy flutter around him more, even more so when he wriggles his digits around your walls. "Your mouth still works right?" he adds, "let Jeongin use your mouth then, pretty. You're not that useless, aren't you?" with that, you feel the youngest's hand cup your chin before using his fingers to open up your jaw, and you do so with no protests, looking up at him through your lashes.

He fills up your mouth completely until your nose presses against his pubic bone, the neatly trimmed hairs prickling your nose. His musky scent fills your senses as he holds you there for a few seconds before he pulls you off until you're suckling at the tip, your tongue swirling around his sensitive head, making him throw his head back and moan.

Minho on the other hand fucks you from behind while fingers your cunt at the same time, matching the pace of his fingers with the pace of his thrusts, making sure to stretch you out even more.

"Gonna make sure your cunt's all loose after this, kitten," he says with a grunt, his heavy balls slapping against your clit. "Gonna make sure cum keeps dripping out of you, make you all messy for us, yeah?"

Yeah, you reply, or that's what you think. You can't even hear your own voice anymore, your brain too foggy to even comprehend that Jeongin has you flush against him as he cums deep into your throat, you only realized what was happening when you start to choke on it, making him pull out and finish the rest of his jizz on your face, your tongue out for your to catch whatever might land on it.

When Minho starts to circle your clit with the pad of his thumb, that's when your arms shake until they give out, making you land face-first into the mattress. "Fuck, Minho, I-I can't, hurts," you babble out.

"You can, kitty. Give me one more, just one more. Need to feel you cum around my cock before I cum inside you." He doesn't stop his ministrations on your oversensitive bundle of nerves, not until he has you sobbing and writhing under his hold until you cum with a silent scream, pussy clenching around his cock that coaxes his own orgasm.

And with the last few stutters of his hips, he pulls away once he's done, his fingers staying to play with the cum that oozes out of you until you pitifully ask him to stop.

You didn't even realize that your own boyfriend was now standing before you, admiring your used-up state. He mumbles something about you being a good girl, his good girl. Praising you on how well you took it.

"Think you can take one more, princess?" he asks you as he takes the remnants of Jeongin's cum from your face and stuffs them in your mouth, your pillowy lips wrapping around his digit. "Think you can still take daddy's cock?"

Your simple nod was all Chan needed.

Minho and Jeongin join the others to watch their leader take you last, the other members giving them some clean towels to wipe themselves.

"Look at this poor cunt of yours," he says once he places himself right behind you, his hands spreading your cheeks open to inspect your defiled pussy. "You're all used up now, sweetheart. Think you can still take daddy in here?" He asks while his fingers play with the cum, pushing what he can back into your pussy. But there's just too much, you've been filled to the brim. The mess travels from your entrance to your thighs and the sheets.

"D-don't know," you say to him with a sob, cunt clenching around nothing causing more cum to spill. "I guess I can use you right... here instead, hm?" His thumb presses against your tightest hole, making your breath hitch and unconsciously push back against him.

"P-please, jus.. just wanna make you cum, daddy," you say, slurring at your own words. "I know, I know," he says, gathering the mess from your cunt and using it on your hole as lube. He also spits on it too for good measure, making sure it's all slick so that he wouldn't hurt you. Chan's already so hard from watching how his members take you, he feels like he'll explode once he starts to fuck you.

He does quick work on your asshole, his experienced fingers work you open. He's done this with you many times to know whether you're ready to take him or not.

It was always a struggle to push in at first, the tight ring of muscle constricting against his cock, but once he finally pushes in, it just absolutely feels like heaven.

"Just a bit more, my love. You just gotta make daddy cum before we go take care of you and clean you up, hm? Can you do that for me?" your boyfriend asks so sweetly as if he wasn't currently knocking your breath out of you with his cock deliciously stretching your ass open, the dull pain of the stretch making you whine out. "C-can, I can," you breathlessly say, trying to relax every muscle of yours so that Chan can easily move in and out of you.

He pulls out slightly until his tip only remains before he spits down on his cock, spreading it around his shaft before he starts to jerk of the body, taking pity over your spent state. "It's okay, baby. Just stay like that, daddy will take care of everything hm?" he says, hand moving rapidly as he chases his orgasm which didn't take long to come. When he feels himself tip over the edge, he starts moving his hips once again until he releases his warm seed inside of you with one final thrust, plunging his cock until he's balls deep.

"T-that's it, good girl," he shudders out, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he feels your warm walls clench around him to help him milk out his orgasm.

When he pulls out, some of his cum seeps out of your hole and drips down to your cunt, mixing with the others. That's all it takes for your tired and spent body to collapse on the bed, body now experiencing a dull ache as exhaustion washes over you.

Chan wastes no time in fetching you a warm towel, making sure to wipe your body clean of bodily fluids and sweat, and praising you for doing such a great job. He orders one of the boys to run you a warm bath while he flips you to your back. "You feeling okay?" he asks, the concern now lacing his voice, worried that he might have overworked you a bit too much, but you only give him a tired but reassuring smile, weakly snuggling up closer to him and his warmth.

"I've never been better than ever, Channie. I'll live," you joke, closing your eyes as you breathe in his scent. The whole room smells like sex and musk now but even so, you can still pick apart the smell of your own lover. "Thank you,'" he says, pushing the stray hairs away from your face. "Thank you for doing this to me."

"You're welcome. I just hope that the other boys enjoyed it too."

"Oh trust me, they did. A bit too much actually. Jisung is already asking me when will he get to fuck you again."

You laugh at that, slightly shaking your head. "I'll be looking forward to it."

[rviellvs]

♥︎︎｡‎°‎ Gojo who wants to make you squirt so badly, begging for you to let him try. You’re so convinced that he won’t be able to, that him wanting it really bad won’t make it happen. Turning him down when he asks because what if you can’t? but while you’re so sure you can’t, he’s so sure he can get you to.

His eyes pleading desperately, “Please, sweetie, it’ll feel real good, I promise.”

And how could you keep denying him when he looks so cute, you really want to be able to give him what he wants. When you agree to letting him play with you how he so badly wants to, he can’t help but feel downright giddy.

Beginning with his hands, his fingers deep inside your dripping pussy. Obscene squelching filling the room as he pulls orgasm after orgasm from you. Making you so pathetically weak for him, letting you know just how good you’re being for him.

Purring low, “So cute when you cum for me,” soft chuckle leaving him, “reacting so nicely to my touch,” his fingers rubbing up against your walls so perfectly that you’re nearly going cross eyed.

Feeling completely brain dead from how blissed out you are but still aware that you haven’t squirted, somewhat worried in the back of your mind. Gojo isn’t concerned though, his only intent right now making you so fucking sensitive that you could cum from a hot kiss.

When he’s got you right where he wants you, he stuffs you full of his aching cock. Heart skipping a beat in his chest at how you bulge around him, sucking him in so divinely that he’s already dizzy. Fucking you with precise and deep thrusts, hitting against every spot that he knows so well.

Pussy drooling around him, so turned on and just about to cum again. His angled thrusts driving you mad, overwhelmed by just how good it feels. Writhing under him as he fucks you how he’d been begging to, and just like he’d wanted so badly, you squirt for him.

Pathetic whimpers leaving him, shiver running down his spine as your honeyed cunt squirts lovingly around him. It’s everything he wanted and more, growing addicted to the feeling.

Voice wrecked when he asks, “Think you can do it again?”

[rviellvs]

mdni ﾉ pt.2 of gojo making you squirt just because i felt like writing it

Still so sensitive from how Gojo just had you squirting for him and yet he’s begging you to let him try again, eyes pleading with you while he keeps rocking his hips. Each time he grinds into your clit, you shake. Trembling under him from the overstimulation you’re experiencing, all twitchy and pathetic under him.

“I can’t– ah! – it’s too much,” lower lip wobbling at him, feeling like your body is on fire.

He leans into peck at your cheek, cooing softly, “But you’re already doing so good, sweetie.”

The way your cunt is pulsing around him is driving him wild, you’re so sensitive and unbelievably wet. Pussy creaming around him like it loves him, he’s panting out delicate whines about it. Head spinning with how sinfully good it all feels, he’s never gonna get enough of you.

He’s getting all excited again, you’re so cute and fucked out under him, already close to cumming. Just as determined to make you squirt as he was the first time, fucking into all the same places as earlier.

Downright obsessed with how soaked you are, feeling an overwhelmingly greedy hunger for you growing. Debauched groans leaving him, fucked out smile on his face as he watches you writhe and struggle against how good it feels.

“You’re so pretty,” he purrs, licking up the length of your neck, “you gonna squirt for me again?” his breath against your ear has you clenching around him, “please?”

“No– ah!– ‘Toru–” you’re trying to tell him just how overwhelming it is.

“–No?” he pouts, it’s a little mocking, “but I think you are, sweetie.”

He turns his head to the side, biting your cheek as gently as he can bring himself to. Your fingers dig into his hair and tug, mouth dropping open as you moan. Gojo takes the opportunity to kiss you, tongue in your mouth, licking at you. It’s all wet and messy and he’s whining into the kiss.

You’re cumming under him suddenly and all too quickly he’s pulling his mouth back to watch the way you come undone. So delighted to see you’re squirting around him again, he’s shuddering at the feeling. Pitiful and breathy whimpers tumbling from his lips, he feels fucking insane.

The way you’re squeezing so tight around him, pussy trying to milk something sinfully sweet from him and who’s he to deny you. Unable to hold off on his own orgasm much longer, cumming deep inside you. All glazed over eyes and foggy thoughts as he watches his seed drool from your cunt, stupid smile on his face at the sight.

“Ohhh sweetie,” he giggles, “you're such a good little squirter.”

[rviellvs]

sincerely not. (9)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

with an arranged marriage set in place, the sacred bond is doomed with a wife who wants to make the relationship work and a husband who’s ready to ruin it all. unbeknown to him, a tragic fate already lies within the pages of his romance book.

genre. heavy angst, unrequited love, arranged marriage, modern au, 18+

tags/warnings. hurt/comfort, illness, mentions of pregnancy, infidelity

notes. 9.2k wc. thank u sm @/suhkusa & @/rinstars for beta-ing last minute, so grateful for u both <3 anyway, the devil works hard but saint works harder >:D enjoy this chapter!

series masterlist -> episode ten

“Y/N, are you ready for your results?”

You hated hospitals. You hated the antiseptic smell that lingered through the air, spanning a good portion of the hallways that never allowed you an escape from the miasma of alcohol that hung around the establishment. You hated the harsh fluorescent lighting and the neutral colors that accentuated the stark room with a sterile and uninviting surrounding. You hated the dissonant sounds of the machines, the general cacophony from the staff, the flash of people in white garments—everything about the hospital attracted your repressed anxiety.

The olfaction was the worst of them all because it was omnipresent and it triggered the unwanted, not even nostalgic, memories that you have spent years wanting to escape from.

It has been a decade since you lost your mom. A period of ten years where life hasn’t been the same for you—from shutting yourself out from the world, eventually cutting people off, to losing the motivation to pursue your dreams—you never thought that a person’s death could carry this much anguish in your heart. You shared your mother’s throes for when she was in the median between life and death, remembering how her frail hands held yours in her last moments, staring at your face with a breather covering her mouth. You watched her die before your eyes while knowing that you were the last person she saw before she departed from her physical body.

You watched how people eventually moved on with their lives, only a week since your mom’s funeral rites as though it was easy to forget a person who once existed to bring joy and comfort for those around her. Death was inevitable and that was not something you could deny because life was an endless cycle of birth, death, and reincarnation. However, even as the person transcends to the afterlife, what would remain after their death was the infliction of pain for the ones left behind.

And that pain was truly of the worst kind.

“Y/N?”

Cutting out of your trance, you met Dr. Mori’s deep russet eyes with a suppressed sigh. “Yes, doc.”

In his hand was a copy of your electrocardiogram that he squinted at behind his thick framed glasses. “Based on your ECG, it seems that you have developed what we call an Angina Pectoris,” he carefully revealed, gauging on your reaction as he spoke, “we also refer to it as Stable Angina. Are you familiar with that?”

Your nod was hesitant but rueful withal. Because of the unbearable chest pain that you’ve had back in Bora Bora, you suspected that something about your heart was not functioning right anymore and you knew that you were bound to be destroyed by another devastating news that did not root from your husband’s mistreatment this time. His words and actions were painful, but discovering about your illness was excruciating. “So I have a serious heart condition?” your lips quivered as you asked. Your face, pallor. Void of any other color but ashen hue.

“It’s not life threatening yet,” he quickly clarified as if to console you from the anxiety that was building inside, “but it could be detrimental if you don’t take good care of your heart. In your case, you experience episodes of squeezing, pressure, or tightness in the chest area because the blockage in your arteries hinders blood from flowing through your heart. You are at a high risk factor for coronary artery disease so I’m gonna have to put you on strict medications to prevent that.”

As much as the news sucked the life out of you, your initial reaction was to be completely numb. You were already deadened inside after all the things that you’ve had to go through for the past week and learning about your illness was the icing on the cake. You were on the brink of losing your sanity. Truly, how could life be so cruel? How could the universe offer you nothing but endless torment? All this suffering had you starting to believe that you might have been a terrible person in your past life and you were paying the price in this lifetime.

“Any family members that have had similar heart-related problems before?” The doctor was writing down on a pad of paper, jotting down any necessary information that he could get from your medical history.

You held it together for your sake, but you could see that the man sympathized with his patient beyond his sworn obligation. “My mom.” The hammering feeling returned to your chest just by answering the doctor’s question. “She died because of her heart disease about ten years ago.”

“Ah, so it’s hereditary,” he hummed, the ticking of the clock was louder than his voice. “That’s one of the risk factors, but it could also root from extreme physical activities or severe emotional stress. Since you have a weak vessel, those aforementioned can narrow your arteries and trigger angina. Is there anything that’s been stressing you out lately?”

You almost wanted to laugh. Bitterly. Spitefully.

Why on Earth did you always have to be on the losing side? How could your husband sleep peacefully at night while you always had to wake up facing a new plight? If you were going to answer the doctor’s question, Satoru Gojou was the sole reason for your stress. Heartache. Sorrow. The man you called your husband, the same man who threw his ring on the ocean without sympathy for the wife that sacrificed her fears just to search for it—he was responsible for the permanent damages on your heart. But even then, you could not blame him.

He was not at fault that you lived with a frail heart to begin with. He was not at fault for lashing out at you after you uttered hurtful things about his mom. These things were beyond his control and he was completely unaware of the byproduct that came forth from your failed marriage.

“There were some things that have been stressful,” you admitted, doleful eyes glued on the hourglass sitting atop the table. “Is it possible to reverse my condition?”

A yes was what you hoped for, but a no was what reality brought back to you.

“Angina is irreversible. There is no immediate cure for it but that’s why you need to change your lifestyle and take medications to prevent it from becoming worse. You’re in the early stages so there’s no need to place too much stress on yourself, alright?” Dr. Mori offered a comforting albeit professional smile as he saw the despondency in your mien. “My best advice is for you to detach yourself from the primary cause of your stress. It could be a lifesaver.”

Detachment—something that you should have done long ago instead of pathetically fooling yourself thinking that your marital gaps could be fixed by filling up the empty spaces. It was distressing to know that all your time and effort into making your marriage work would be thrown to waste, but you had to do things for your sake and not his anymore.

This marriage was your downfall and you ought to save yourself before it could kill you. Literally.

Somehow, you found it surprising how you were able to gather yourself together despite finding out about the dreadful news. To know that you might end up six feet under and be forgotten in this world like your mom did was an experience that left blisters on your heart. Was it depressing? It would definitely catch up to you within the next few days, but for now, you carried the heavy weight on your slumped shoulders as you listened to your doctor’s next instructions with a lifeless look on your face. Medications, diet, and avoidance towards stress. He spent the next thirty minutes yapping about the do’s and don'ts that were crucial to your heart’s condition while you sat there trying to hold it all together.

By the time you left his clinic, you were no longer all too stunned when you happened to bump into Dr. Shoko Ieiri from the Department of Obstetrics and Gynecology who was immediately pulling you inside of her office with a troubled expression on her pale face. It had been a week since you came home from the traumatic trip, ignoring the entirety of your husband’s existence as you left him and his mistress when you took the commercial flight back home. It was Ieiri who stayed with you after you passed out from being a dried prune with all the tears you’ve shed over your supposed partner in life. It was her who made sure that Satoru couldn’t talk to you while she and Getou drove you to your dad’s mansion as soon as you landed back in Japan.

If you weren’t burdened by the unbearable pangs inside of your ribcage, you would have found it ironic that Satoru’s own friends could not find it in themselves to support his actions.

“Did you get checked?” Ieiri immediately greeted you with a fusillade of questions as she took notice of the huge brown envelope on your hand. “What happened? What was the result?”

You blamed it on Shoko’s comforting presence because tears pricked at your eyes now that you could finally release the emotions that you’ve kept inside the bottle. “I want to keep this between us but I have a heart condition,” you gave her an honest response while her sunken eyes measured your visage, “It’s gonna worsen over time if I don’t take care of myself.”

“Oh, gosh… Y/N.” She didn’t even hesitate at pulling you into her arms, hiding the glaze of sadness in her eyes. “I’m…” She was rendered speechless and so were you. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

You learned that people, even those not at fault, would apologize for things they did not do because they wanted to extend their sincerest sympathies. Ieiri was the living example of that. She has always been perceptive and sensitive towards other people’s miseries, something that your husband considerably lacked.

“Don’t apologize,” your voice broke, “I had a feeling that I was gonna inherit it from my mom. I’m just glad Gen didn’t.”

Pulling away, she rubbed your back for some comfort. “I mean, you’re literally the kindest and you don’t deserve everything that’s been happening especially with Go—”

“I haven’t seen him in a week,” you cut her off before his name could leave her lips. You genuinely wanted to avoid any topic concerning your husband because even the mere mention of his name could put you on your deathbed at this point. “But I don’t think I can go back to the mansion tonight after knowing about my health. I might just end up breaking down in front of Gen and my dad. I-I don’t wanna worry them.”

She squeezed your arms and you could see it in her eyes that she understood how difficult and emotionally taxing it was for you. “Do you need a place to stay?”

Surely, it was the smartest option, but not as easy as she made it sound. “No, I have to… sort some things out back at the penthouse.”

As much as you dreaded going back to that place to see the man who loathed every fiber of your being, you would rather deal with Satoru now than to be in your weakest state in front of your own family. It was a gamble, but you knew that you would only end up losing on the latter. With Gojou, there was nothing more for you to lose because there hadn’t been any gain in the first place. He might probably even celebrate the fact that your death was only a hair's breadth away. In the end, you had to pay for ruining his life through this marriage. After all, you were a curse more than a blessing for him.

“Okay… well.” Ieiri held your hand with a much needed warmth. “If you need anything, please please let me know. It breaks me to see how you’re dealing with all of this.”

It broke you, too. Wrecked you, even. Your mother’s death left a significant void in your soul and you witnessed the scars it left on your dad—scars that never healed and would stay with him until his last breath. Imagining your father’s reaction to you having a similar health condition would absolutely crush his whole world.

At the end of the day, you still chose to protect everyone’s emotions other than yours.

Dealing with something of this gravity was more than a person could take. Despite the people that surrounded you, you felt so lonely. So forlorn. Everyone else had their own thing going on with their lives while you were bedeviled by the grief in yours. It seemed that the onus was always on you, never of anyone else’s. Happiness was never within your reach because all the universe ever planned for you was to make your human life a living hell.

You were swamped with deep thoughts when you drove around town; lost in the sea of cars moving and passing, of traffic lights blinking and switching, of the people walking and smiling. There was no one to share your troubles with. No one to release the blues in your heart because you were meant to face everything by yourself.

However, while you were stuck in heavy traffic gazing at the baby blue skies, you remembered the one person who believed and encouraged your dreams without even knowing your history. It was the hopelessness that urged you to fish out your purse, withdrawing a certain business card so you could dial the number printed under his name. And as you held the phone to your ear, your listlessness shifted into sanguine.

“Hello?” The deep voice from the other end of the line sparked electricity within your heart. “Who’s calling?”

With a deep breath, you tapped the steering wheel and answered, “Mr. Toji Zen’in, it’s Y/N.” A smile momentarily concealed the pain in your voice. “I was just wondering if I can still take you up on your offer?”

Satoru has not had any decent sleep for the past week.

There was no point in lying. As much as he hated to admit it, he was absolutely miserable without you. Ever since that failure of a weekend getaway, he was haunted by the guilt of putting you through colossal pain all because his wrath swallowed him whole. He had already inflicted damage before his mind became lucid, realizing how the extent of his actions affected you to the point of being completely irreparable. He couldn’t even do damage control because Ieiri wouldn’t allow him to see you. Getou, despite being his closest friend, kept insisting that he should leave you alone.

For how long? He had been deeply agitated because he couldn’t deal with the amount of overthinking that plagued his mind lately. He did not hear from you throughout your absence nor did anyone from your family tried to contact him. Were they aware of what happened? Were you bound to ask for a divorce again? This was the exact reason why he couldn’t drive up to your place and pick you up because he was scared shitless that his presence would provoke you to further reject him.

He fucked up and didn’t know how to turn things around for the better. His greatest fear was for this incident to become a domino effect, from the downfall of your marriage to putting the company in dire straits.

‘You’re becoming like the person you hate the most.’ He recalled Getou’s words and refused it all the more. ‘You already lost her.’ He couldn’t lose you. These things could still be fixed, but what he could never accept was hearing how he was acting exactly like his father. He would never in his life be like the twisted man who ruined his childhood and drove his wife away from his son.

Satoru knew that you made extremely valid points for not wanting a baby, except his ego and his pride just didn’t allow him to immediately understand your perspective with a rational mind.

And Sera. Damn it. What has he done? She was the result of all the rage that consumed him after your big fight. Getting her pregnant out of spite would be the worst case scenario in his already tainted life and he had to prevent it before things got out of control.

With all the said factors in mind, Gojou has completely lost his equanimity. He never thought that he would have to rely on sleeping pills just to get a wink of sleep because his nightmares were getting worse. He would wake up in the middle of the night touching your side of the bed and feeling nothing but cold, empty space. He would go to the office without paying attention to his attire because he couldn’t be bothered to carefully pick the right one for himself. He attended meetings with bags under his eyes, succumbing into deep thoughts when he should be focusing on important business matters.

You weren’t supposed to affect him this much. Why couldn’t he just keep the same frenzied rage that he had when he heard the trenchant words you’ve said about his mother leaving him? Why couldn’t he keep the same attitude when he threw the ring in the ocean and left you sobbing on your knees before he went to his other woman to fuck her stupid?

All he could think of for now was how he could no longer spend another night without seeing or hearing from you. He was going insane. Because, for some unidentifiable reason, his stone cold heart craved your warmth.

“—the goal is to take over J-Air and make it one of the top three leading airlines on a global scale.” Right in front of Satoru was the Chief Operating Officer, delivering a presentation in a long table full of shareholders who all listened intently to the proposal. “According to the financial statement in the business plan, the assets at the fiscal year-end increased by 125.4 billion yen from the end of the previous fiscal year to 1 trillion 854.2 billion yen, mainly due to procurement of aircraft and advance aircraft payments. The liabilities increased by 34.7 billion yen from the end of the previous fiscal year to 760 billion yen due to issuance of corporate bonds and an increase in loans—”

Gojou’s deep exhale earned the attention of the shareholders before he cut to the chase. “What’s the ratio? It’s not in the presentation.”

The COO stammered as he assessed the ceiling-to-floor projector screen. “Uh, well the equity ratio rose by 1.0 percentage points from the end of the previous fiscal year to, uh… 56.9%.”

“Are you sure it’s not 57.2%? How could you mess up the numbers?” Gojou’s austere businessman facade had always been deemed intimidating by everyone else in the room during executive meetings. It didn’t matter if these people were part of the company’s upper echelon. The aura and power that he has was something that they also saw through his father which were both a compliment and an insult for him. Business-wise, Satoru would be happy to hear that he had the same sagacity as his father. But outside of the business world, saying that to his face would send the person into the pits of hell.

One of the lines that can never be crossed in Satoru Gojou’s handbook was to say that he was the exact copy of his dad.

The COO nodded apologetically. “You’re right. My apologies for the error.”

If Satoru didn’t study the financial statements prior to the trip, he doubted that he would have had the capability to make rational decisions on his own since his mind was a befuddled mess all because of you—something very unusual for the frontman who led the general stockholders’ meetings when the Chairman was overseas. Since his father was in Macau to fulfill a proposition for a newly built hotel and casino, Satoru was in charge of approving all the remaining proposals from small acquisitions to huge corporate alliances for the month.

He didn’t want to stall things further when he finally made a decision. “Complete the acquisition,” he ordered in an orotund voice, quickly gaining looks from all the shareholders in the long table. “This should be done in four months. Let’s end the meeting here.”

He was already getting up from his chair, striding across the room as the COO and all the shareholders politely bowed at his exit. His new secretary struggled to keep up with his pace being only recently hired by his father and clearly still requiring more time to adapt in a competitive environment. The woman had many things to catch up on and her boss wasn’t exactly very friendly within the glass walls of the C-Suite floor so Satoru already expected that this poor girl wouldn’t last more than two months.

“Miwa Kasumi, was it?” Gojou only spoke when he entered his office, followed by his seemingly inexperienced secretary. Her nod was brief as she stood by the door. “What’s my schedule for the day?”

She quickly checked through her iPad. “Ah, well… None for the day, sir,” she said, pausing for a moment before adding, “although your wife called today—”

“What’d she say?” With wide sapphire eyes, Satoru was ashamed at how he immediately looked back at her for some news.

Contrarily, Miwa was not surprised at the urgency in her boss’ tone. “Um, she just wanted to check if you had any appointments left.”

Why would you ask for his schedule? Were you planning to finally come back home today? From the corner of his eyes, Satoru saw Sera walking past his office with the click clack of her heels and that ultimately distracted him from the thought of you. However, this time around, it was only because of her presence that his anxiety increased, remembering that he still had to deal with another crucial issue at hand.

“Secretary Miwa,” Gojou gave her one last order before he followed Sera out of the door. “Get the best bouquet you can find. I need it for my wife.”

“Why can’t you do anything right?!” For the longest time, Sera had to put up with her insufferable boss who never once treated her with kindness. Mrs. Fujikawa was one of the strictest Executive on the floor and to some extent, Sera could understand that it was only driven by her challenging role as the company’s CFO. But seeing as how the stern woman showered you with compliments every time you visited the office, she could feel nothing but resentment for the fact that you were only getting treated well because of your status. Sera hated it. She hated just how easy life was for someone like you. “Your photocopies come out like a mess. You don’t get paid to waste my time seeing these unaligned copies一are you listening?!”

In obligatory acquiescence, she gave the woman an apologetic bow. “I’m sorry, Miss. I’ll just do all five-hundred pages again.”

“You better!” Mrs. Fujikawa unforgivably slammed the papers atop the fax machine and pivoted on her heels as she left. Sometimes, Sera wondered if the reason why this woman acted unpleasantly towards her was because she had an inkling about her secret relationship with Satoru. If that was the case, then it would justify just why Mrs. Fujikawa slapped her with the extreme contrast between how you and her were treated.

She couldn’t understand why the elite loved stepping on the lesser people’s shoes like it was their day job. Sera couldn’t even feel an ounce of sympathy for what happened to you back at the trip because she believed that it was karma for your desperate pursuance to make Satoru yours. You needed to know your place, and if passing out from crying was how you would wake up to your senses, then it was good enough that it happened. You have not even experienced half the suffering that Sera had to endure in her life.

It was farcical how you could ruin her day without even showing up in the office. She has no idea how things were between you and Gojou after the trip, but what was aggravating her was how the man couldn’t pay attention to her as much as he used to. Something seemed to have changed. Something seemed to have snapped within him but she could not fathom what exactly it was. Guilt? Remorse? Satoru shouldn’t even feel bad. He never really desired you, anyway.

Sera let herself be swallowed by her bitter thoughts while she spent the next hour skipping her lunch because she was burdened by the amount of photocopies that she needed to finish. And at long last when she had completed her tedious task, she left the copies in Mrs. Fujikawa’s office and marched across the corridor knowing that Satoru would catch a glimpse of her.

Her intuitions were right. She was always right. Because not even a minute after she passed by his office, he was already snatching her arm and pulling her inside the vacant and isolated meeting room to hide from the prying eyes of his employees.

“We need to talk.” Satoru did not make an effort to turn the lights on. Still, Sera could see the consternation in his stance and she despised just how he wasn’t being the usual confident and poised man that she fell in love with. This Satoru was different and unappealing.

She crossed her arms and leaned against the table. “Talk about what?” If she was being honest, Gojou looked awful. His collar was visibly creased and two of his buttons were undone because he didn’t care enough to wear a necktie.

“You took the plan B when I told you to, right?” he asked, perturbed and all. So this was what was causing his anxiety? How laughable. “Answer me,” he egged on, now grabbing her wrist to make her look at his eyes.

Sera, overcome with bitterness, gave him a scoff. “What if I didn’t? Are you that scared that I could be pregnant? Weren’t you so ready to be a daddy?”

“Don’t fuck with me,” he snapped, chest rising and falling deeply. “You’re not valuable enough to ruin my life.”

Taken aback from his piercing remark, she pushed him off. “Not valuable?” A laugh of disbelief followed. “You say I’m the only woman you love and suddenly I’m not valuable? Go fuck yourself, Satoru. It’s not like you even feel anything for her.”

Instead of quickly apologizing like he normally would, he chose not to take his words back despite the puncture it left on Sera’s heart. “You’re not stupid enough not to understand the situation, right?” Not once did he look away. “I know we’ve been in denial about this whole infidelity thing but everyone will see you as a homewrecker. It’ll ruin us both.”

“Why didn’t you pull out if you’re so scared?” she questioned with gritted teeth. Gojou’s logical reasoning was unbelievably asinine. “Ruin us? Why? You were going to divorce her either way.”

Sera didn’t know what hurt more. If it was knowing how Satoru didn’t want a baby with her or hearing him choose you if she ever made him pick what his priority was. At this rate, the restlessness in his face was a sign of how he must have seen his life crumbling down before him.

“Just get a pregnancy test as soon as possible.” He averted his eyes and threw his head back, releasing an exasperated sigh from his peachy lips. “We can’t have a baby. It’s all my fault but we really can’t.”

Sera ignored the searing ache in her heart but tightened her fist nonetheless. “Why? Is she threatening you or what?”

He answered by shaking his head. “She hasn’t come home for a week now.”

So this was what it was. Sera could see it now. Because you had not come home, he had no outlet to release the intensity of his anger but on her. She was the recipient of his rage because you chose to be dramatic about the whole trip. How much of an attention seeker could you be?

“Don’t you realize that she’s maybe just trying to get you to chase her?” she pointed out to enlighten his mind.

Surprisingly, however, he dismissed the thought. “I need her back home regardless.”

Pathetic. This wasn’t Satoru. Sera was displeased to see this other side of him. “You’re not you,” she said, strictly. “Get a hold of yourself. You’re desperate ‘cause you think your plans are gonna fail. Can’t you just resolve it instead of pretending like you need her so badly?”

“I am resolving it.” Satoru’s back collided against the wall as his lover took another step to pin him back. She distracted him by trailing kisses along his jaw, pressing herself against his chest while he spoke his mind. “Just that if she walks out on me, it… it would remind me of when my mom left—”

Sera had to pull away and roll her eyes. “Here we go again.” Truth was, she had no time for this. “I’ve heard about your mother leaving over and over. It’s getting old. Move on.”

Seriously, if he hated his mother so much then why couldn’t he just forget about her? There were more problems to face in life. Sera already had baggage on her own and carrying Satoru’s along with hers was asking for too much. He was a grown adult. Instead of burdening her with his own problems, he should know that there were boundaries that shouldn’t be crossed.

“I’m not in the mood anymore. Talk to me when you figure things out,” was the last thing she said before she left him alone to reflect by himself.

Perhaps she needed some self-reflection, too. She needed some time to think about what would happen if she really did end up pregnant with his child. Frankly, it was all Sera ever wanted because she couldn’t see being with anyone other than Satoru. What would only make the situation problematic was how his father would possibly strip him off of his rights to be the next CEO because of the amount of scandal that it could put the company through. Sera used to understand that Satoru had to make sacrifices to achieve his ideal life, but his indecisiveness and more so his recklessness was making her frustrated.

Had he not shown any signs of genuine affection towards you, Sera never would have acted this way.

She carried the same frustration until she came home to her family’s new apartment downtown. Because of the ten million that she received from Satoru’s dad, Sera was able to lease a decent three-bedroom home in a nice neighborhood as compared to the one she grew up in. Thinking back of how awful their previous house was, she had no intentions of ever going back to the inner-city slums.

Still, life has been unsatisfying for her. When she entered the house, she could immediately smell the stench of alcohol that came from her drunkard father who was sitting on the couch doing nothing like the waste of space that he was. Peeking from the kitchen was her mother cooking their supper, immediately welcoming Sera with a smile as soon as she entered the door.

“My daughter,” she cooed, holding a spatula and wiping her other greasy hand on her apron.

Sera barely acknowledged her mom as she kicked her heels out of the way, walking past her parents while heading straight into her room. At least, her personal space was neat and tidy. Nearly everything in her room was a light shade of yellow and she couldn’t wait for the day when she would finally be able to sleep in a king-sized bed, sharing a room with the one person that she loved.

“Nee-chan?” Her younger sister, Nari, called by the door. “Dinner’s ready.”

Her face stayed rigid. “Yeah, I’ll come out in a while.” Frankly, Sera was feeling lackluster after the conversation that she had with Satoru this afternoon. She was truly upset at how the man was denying the thought of having a baby with her but was willing to have all of that with you. It wasn’t her insecurity tugging at her, she was simply distasteful at the fact that you had a leverage into high society because you were born with a silver spoon on your mouth.

With a restrained sigh, she walked into the mirror and twisted her body, caressing her stomach and imagining how she would look like with a bump growing day by day.

“Sera—!”

God. “I’m coming!” she yelled, slipping out of her office attire and changing into more comfortable clothes. As soon as she got out of her room, the perpetual frown reappeared on her face when her father nearly stumbled onto the dining table. “You said you’ll stop drinking!”

The old man looked up with half-lidded eyes and a stupid grin. “Sera, my daughter!”

“You’re revolting.” Her brows were all furrowed as her siblings watched her harshly pulling out a chair with her misdirected temper.

Her mother was quick to place a piece of fried fish on her plate, only to earn her look of disappointment. “Why? You don’t like the food?”

“I don’t wanna eat this,” Sera complained, huffing in displeasure. “Didn’t I give you enough money to buy good meat?”

All her mother could offer was an apologetic smile. “I had to limit our budget since your dad was….” the increasing silence in her tone was a clear message for Sera. Her father gambled, again. “I’ll try to bargain for some wagyu beef in the market next time.”

No, she was no longer in the mood to eat. She already had an exhausting day at work and despised that she had to come home to this household at all. With the combination of her stress and frustration, she got up from her seat and slammed the chair back in. All of them were startled by her fit of pique but she didn’t even try to conceal it as she looked at her parents with fire blazing in her eyes.

“Nee-chan, calm down,” said Jiro, her brother, who tried to prevent his sister’s growing ire.

“Why would I?” Sera stared daggers at her parents. “Why would I calm down when I have to deal with all of you by myself? Our mom and dad are useless.” Her scoff was full of antagonism. “I don’t deserve to be born into a poor family, but I have no other choice because our parents are failures!”

Silence filled the room because they knew that Sera was becoming tired of having to be the breadwinner of her family. Life’s full of shit, she had that in mind. It was unfair how others had the privilege to be raised in a rich household while she was punished with jobless parents who did nothing but watch their eldest child work her ass off every single day. See, this was the difference between you and her. You didn’t experience this much hardship in life for you to complain about not winning Satoru’s heart.

If Sera couldn’t have anything, then you shouldn’t, too. It was only fair.

“I’m going to bed,” she announced, stomping her way out of the dining area wishing that it was as easy to walk away from the life that she was given.

Toji was the CEO of one of the top conglomerates in Japan and it was normal to perceive the guy as an intimidating man with a dominating presence who could make a room full of people bow at his feet.

But between him and Gojou, he wasn’t exactly the type of man who would uphold his authority just to feel superior. He leaned more into having an approachable stance contrary to popular belief because he knew that his actions would reflect the image of his family’s business empire一the same image will be passed on to his employees who all looked up to him as their highest-ranking executive. How could he inspire people if they were scared of him? That was the easiest way to put it.

You didn’t even feel uncomfortable around him despite not having seen the man for weeks, because as soon as he entered the cafe, he had a boyish grin tugging at his scarred lips when he met you at your table. Beyond the simple hi’s and hello’s, or the how are you’s and the small talk, the man was clearly perceptive to your emotions that he was fast to notice the sorrows that you’ve tried to mask with your docile eyes.

“You’re not here to talk business with me, are you?” His question may be straightforward, but there was comfort laced behind his tone.

Your lips stretched into a small smile. “I’m sorry. You probably have more important things to deal with.”

He quickly countered your assumption with a playful joke, “I can make time for Mrs. Zen’in.”

“Silly.” This wasn’t the first time he managed to make you laugh in your deepest lows. How could someone who wasn’t even your husband be able to do what your spouse was supposed to?

Hesitantly, you tapped your fingers on your cup of coffee and tried to gather yourself together. Back to the real deal, what was the best way to tell someone that you were bound to tragically die? The doctor did say that your case was not life threatening yet, but you already knew where it would lead to. Holding onto false hopes would only wreck you, so it was better to face the harsh realities than to maximize the weight of your suffering for when the time comes.

“No, I… uh,” you paused as you took a deep breath and met his emerald eyes with a glint of hope, “I just wanted to tell you that I need to meet Mai and Maki soon. Maybe Megumi, too.”

The man in a black suit leaned back on his chair without taking his gaze off you. “That’s it?” he asked, looping his fingers onto the ceramic cup before taking a sip from his freshly brewed Americano. “For what?”

You tilted your head a little. “I sketched a new batch of designs and I want to personally have it tailored for them.”

Toji glanced at your lips before meeting your eyes again. “The kids would love that,” he said, immediately taking it back, “Well, not kids anymore, I guess,” and in between his sentences, you found solace from his presence. “How about you come visit the estate tomorrow?”

“Great, I will.” You already looked forward to it knowing that the Zen’ins seem to have such a great relationship with one another. In that sense, the happiness in their household was what yours lacked. Now that you were doomed with a heart problem aside from your loveless marriage, you couldn’t exactly tell how you would proceed to live a contented life. You didn’t have the clarity to think of what you should do to avoid further damages that you have long sustained by keeping your marriage intact. Toji didn’t specifically ask about what was going through your mind, but his obvious concern allowed you to finally spill your thoughts. “I just found out that I… I have a certain heart condition that requires me to keep myself away from severe emotional stress, otherwise it could… be life threatening.”

Unlike Ieiri, his reaction wasn’t big. He was calm and composed, but he was reading through the emotions present on your face as he took a few minutes to let the news sink into him. And even then, feeling sorry was not his option because instead of treating your situation as if it was pitiful, he actually gave you a boost of encouragement. “Life’s too short not to enjoy the happy sides of it.” His eyes glazed with rue nevertheless. “This is the perfect opportunity to focus on yourself and what will bring you happiness. Your dreams, your passion一it’s not too late, Y/N. Having an illness, no matter the magnitude, shouldn’t hold you back from pursuing your heart’s desire.”

He was right. While it was natural for you to think that halcyon days were now out of your reach, it was also a good wake up call for you to realize that you should put your happiness first before anyone else’s. You shouldn’t be counting your last days on Earth, and instead, anticipate the rest of your sunrises and sunsets without any regret.

“I just don’t know where to start,” you admitted, looking at the glass wall and watching the beads of rain bouncing on the concrete. The sky was crying and so should you.

“Does he know?” the man asked. “Or does he care?”

Your crestfallen face could speak for itself. “I don’t plan to tell him,” you said, eyes beginning to pool of tears, “and I一I think it’s healthier for me to maintain my distance.”

Toji wholeheartedly agreed. “You know, staying with him is your fatal flaw.”

The man wasn’t even aware of your husband’s infidelity and ill-treatment. He was simply an innocent bystander and yet he could confidently say that being with Satoru was your hamartia in this tragic love story. Perhaps it was easy to see. Or maybe, he was once in a toxic marriage which made it effortless for him to notice the red flags in yours. If your husband was your own destruction, the only way to prevent it was through divorce.

You weren’t exactly ready to deal with the strain that it would cause you.

What you could do, on the other hand, was to toughen your walls around him. No more setting aside your emotions for his sake, no more extensive effort to save your marriage for your own desire. Your only purpose from hereafter was to live your best life without sacrificing anything more than you already have for a husband who could never love you.

Gojou had never been this nervous coming home.

His hands trembled when he opened the door to the penthouse, holding the bouquet of red roses that his secretary specifically picked for you. He had a gut feeling that you would be coming home tonight because there wouldn’t be any other reason for you to ask about Satoru’s schedule if it wasn’t to prepare yourself when he arrived.

He wouldn’t say that he missed you, but he hasn’t seen your face for a week. He hasn’t heard your voice. Hasn’t received your kisses.

Those feelings of longingness had completely washed away as soon as he entered the apartment and spotted you sitting on the couch, overlooking the cityscape in complete silence. His heartbeat increased exponentially and his desperate footsteps quickly led him to you but he had to slow himself down in case his presence was too overwhelming.

You didn’t exactly acknowledge him right away even when he placed the bouquet on the coffee table before he walked closer and crouched down to look at you. “You’re back.”

It was like he was seeing a different person. Your eyes were empty, your lips were pale. The depressing sadness was overflowing but not once did you make an effort to look at his eyes.

“Y/N…” He grabbed your hand and squeezed it. “Can we talk about what happened?”

He wasn’t prepared to talk about it, frankly. In fact, he was afraid to look back at what happened because he knew that he fucked up and he knew that he completely ruined you. However, Satoru learned that he had to have the courage to open up before things could worsen. He didn’t even expect that you would be coming home at all so it wasn’t surprising to be welcomed with the palpable tension between you and him right now. It was so intense that it was almost tangible, but he was willing to face it all in exchange for seeing his soft-hearted wife back.

“Talk to me, please.”

Unfortunately, you weren’t very cooperative because you chose to close your eyes and lean your head back as if the man didn’t exist. He could see the slow rise and fall of your chest, the quivering of your lips, and the surge of tears that you were trying so hard to keep. It was as though you wanted to speak to him, but couldn’t. You wanted to open your mouth and say something, but felt that you shouldn’t.

His heart fell.

Since when did Satoru feel this much emotion from you? He felt the urgent need to hear your thoughts in order to comfort you but it wouldn’t be possible if you refused to even acknowledge him in the slightest. And as he held your hand, he noticed that the gold ring was no longer there.

“Wh-Where’s your—” Fuck. He didn’t even have the right to ask about the wedding ring. He just needed you to talk. That’s it. “Have you had dinner yet? Do you wanna go out—”

For the longest minute of his life, you finally moved but only to pull your hands away from his grasp, pressing your palm on your chest as you got up. “You stay away from me.”

Satoru would be a hypocrite if he said that he was actually hurt when he had told you many times to stay away from him in the harshest way possible. He treated you like garbage, stomped on your heart, poisoned your soul with venomous words. How exactly could he find an antidote to make you stay by his side?

He wasn’t used to this. When Getou told him that he already lost you, he had a hard time accepting it. You were still here, and if you coming back home meant that he could fix things, then he would do whatever it took to win you back.

For now, it was difficult to even get you to give him some attention because you avoided crossing paths with him as much as you could. He wasn’t dumb. You must have realized that there was no point in trying to resolve your marital issues when he was bound to pulverize your heart again one way or another. You were protecting yourself from getting hurt, and goddamn did it bring a pang of unshakable guilt to Satoru.

He couldn’t ignore the little things, too. Such as how you locked the door while you were taking your night shower when you used to let him enter anytime he wanted to. Gojou left for work this morning with an unmade bed and pieces of his clothing that were all over the floor. His leather shoes were scattered, his neckties were in disarray—everything was messy without you. Now, your shared bedroom was clean and tidy again, but there was a strange uninviting coldness that seeped through.

Because he was panicking without knowing what to do, Satoru spent some time lounging at the pool area as he dialed his best friend’s number. He hasn’t spoken to the guy since you all got back from Bora Bora and he was hoping that he could allow him to confide even just for tonight.

Getou knew that there was no other reason for Gojou to call at ten in the evening if it wasn’t about you. “What’s up?” The guy’s casual tone was a relief for Satoru to hear.

“Suguru, she came home,” he quickly spilled, looking up at the night sky as he leaned against the metal railings, “but she’s not talking to me.”

“Jesus. I wonder why?” His words dripped with sarcasm. “She doesn’t even know that you fucked a baby into Sera. It’s gonna ruin her.”

He took a deep breath and released it into a deep sigh. “Don’t tell her. I’m already trying to clear things up with Sera. She took the plan B.”

Getou snorted from the other end of the line. “Now you suddenly care about how Y/N would feel?”

Gojou couldn’t find a good rebuttal to his best friend’s question. The only thing he could do was express his distress. “She’s not wearing her ring anymore. I just know she’s about to bring up the divorce. Fuck, Suguru. I don’t know what to do.”

There was a minute of silence from his best friend’s side that Satoru almost thought he hung up on him. He even had to check the caller ID to make sure that he was still listening until he did speak again. “Did you know that Y/N jumped into the ocean to look for your ring and nearly drowned?”

Shit. “H-How—Why didn’t you tell me?” No wonder you couldn’t even spare him a glance. His stupid actions resulted in that, and he didn’t know if he could ever forgive himself for it. His wife. His poor wife. What had he done?

“You made it very clear that she didn’t mean anything to you.”

“Suguru,” he warned.

“What?” The guy scoffed. “It’s your marriage. Fix it without hurting her,” and before Gojou could respond, Getou added one last thing, “I found your ring and gave it to her. You can ask her for it.”

Fix it without hurting you—how could he actually do that?

It was nearly midnight when he returned to bed and saw you sitting in silence, sketching on your tablet with an unyielding gaze even as your husband slipped in next to you. His pride told him not to say anything and let you be, but for once, he let his heart win.

“Don’t you wanna sleep? It’s late,” he offered, scooting closer to give you a light kiss on the shoulder. At least, he could sleep well tonight knowing that you would be by his side.

Your hum was barely audible as you moved away.

Unlike for the past week, he surprisingly fell asleep quicker tonight. It didn’t even take him five minutes to fully succumb into his slumber without any nightmare waking him up in the middle of the night with cold sweats and a rapid heartbeat. The thing was, he did wake up but it was because your side of the bed felt empty.

When his eyes shot open at three in the morning, he had to make sure that he hadn’t dreamed about you coming home as he got up from bed and looked for you. You weren’t in the bathroom so where else would you be at this time of the night?

The answer to his question shattered the entirety of his heart because when he made his way out of the bedroom, he ended up seeing you sleeping like an angel on the couch with a blanket draped over your body. Curled in a fetal position, eyebrows creased as if you were having a bad dream.

This was it. This was how he finally opened his eyes to the accumulation of misery that he had put you through.

When he first got into this marriage with you, he remembered ruthlessly asking you to sleep on the couch on your exact first night as a newlywed couple. That version of him wouldn’t have cared now.

But this version of him quickly scooped you into his arms, carrying you out of the couch and tucking you back into your king-sized bed with only as little of a distance that he could give between you two. He was holding you close, so close that you could probably feel his heartbeat vibrating against your back because he wanted nothing but to make you feel the sincerity in his actions and just how regretful he was for everything that he has done.

“I’m sorry,” he just had to whisper it in your ear, kissing your temple when he hugged you tighter. “Y/N, I’m sorry. I know it’s not enough but it’s all I have.”

He felt warm drops of your tears falling on his forearm as you shifted to hide your face away. “M-My heart’s already suffering,” you spoke softly, unaware that the pain in your voice caused goosebumps all over his body, “please don’t make it suffer more.”

“I won’t—”

“All I-I ever wanted was a h-happy marriage.” Your chest heaved as you silently cried, but Satoru respected that you didn’t want your face to be seen as you shed more tears to release the agony that you’ve been keeping inside. The most he could do was to hold you in his arms and press his lips against the crook of your neck. “J-Just let me go.”

Satoru refused to. Now that he was hearing your downpour of raw emotions, he too was on the suffering end. He too could feel tears forming in his eyes as he listened to your heartache. “I don’t want you to go.”

How could he let you go? How could he let go of the only person that understood his pain? The person that went out of her way to comfort him despite the treatment she had to receive? He was goddamn scared to lose you and he could now see your importance to him. Gojou has done so many fucked up things in life, but seeing you like this was what finally turned things around.

He had to change course. He had to treat you better. And, for his sake and yours, he had to right his wrongs.

Things were too good to be true.

It was what you told yourself when you broke down in your husband’s arms last night until you fell asleep after all the tears that you had to release. For the first time since your marriage, Satoru did not move an inch to release you from his tight embrace. He was almost like a kid clinging to his mother, afraid to ever let her go.

Although, at daybreak you remembered that your life had drastically changed now. Giving into the rollercoaster ride of forgiving Satoru could be your destruction in the end. Just like what your doctor said, avoiding stress could be a lifesaver. Just like what Toji said, being with Satoru was your fatal flaw. Their respective advice was clear and reasonable.

Now it was on you to listen to them.

You have decided that from this day forward, you would only focus on yourself, your health, and your happiness. Not even Satoru would be able to break through your walls because you already learned. You had to be strong. You had to be independent.

Ironically, the tables seem to have turned, because when you were all dressed up at seven in the morning on a Saturday, your husband was the one who hugged you from behind and feathered kisses on your neck.

“Where you goin’?” he asked, voice deep and raspy. He sought for your attention with visible yearning.

You pushed his hand away and grabbed your bag. “Don’t wait on me. I’ll be out for the whole day.”

“Hold on.” Satoru’s electric blue eyes were wide as he held onto your wrist. “I need to ask something.”

After drawing a deep breath, you gave him an apathetic look and didn’t say a word.

He couldn’t veil the curiosity in his visage. “About the ring, Suguru told me he found it,” said he, shooting you a hopeful gaze like he still had every right to bring it up. “Can I have it back?”

The audacity. His request almost earned your scoff, but you decided to keep a straight face because it was better to hold back than to argue knowing that it wasn’t in your nature to act such. “I don't think you need it.”

“Y/N.” You couldn’t believe that he would follow you into the living room like a lost puppy, vying for your attention as if he had been deprived of it for the longest time. Unfortunately for him, showing his sincerity was more than just a bouquet of roses and barely audible apologies. “How do I make it up to you? I’ll do anything.”

You turned on your heel to leave. I’m sorry, Satoru. I have to protect my heart.

“You wanna make it up to me, you will do it for the rest of your life.”

[rviellvs]

Way Back Home

Pairing: Toji x Reader

Genre: heavy angst

Warnings: death, mentions of cheating, mentions of illness, suicide attempt, suggestive smut

Part I: Home | Part II: A Letter From Home | Part III: Way Back Home

Reincarnation: Dodging a Bullet

“It feels like I have loved you before…”

Getting off from work was always Toji’s favorite part of the day. Well, it’s everyone’s favorite part. Coming home, bed, and sleep seems so tempting when you get up at 7 am to go to work at 9 am. But to Toji, nothing’s as inviting as her.

Keep reading

[rviellvs]

JJK MASTERLIST.

ONESHOT/SERIES.

♱ gojou satoru.

sensei off duty 18+ (smut, dilf!gojou)

casanova (angst, established relationship)

i hate you ♱ i love you 18+ (angst, fwb, college au)

sincerely not 18+ (heavy angst, arranged marriage, ceo au)

sincerely yours 18+ (heavy angst, amnesia, ceo au)

felines (fluff, fantasy, historical au)

go to hell, for heaven’s sake 18+ (explicit smut, mafia au)

two birds, one stone 18+ (explicit smut, high school au)

as you like it 18+ (tragedy, period piece, royal au)

long live the villainess 18+ (enemies-to-lovers, period piece, medieval au)

s.o.s 18+ (angst, multiverse, sci-fi au)

♱ sukuna ryomen.

emperor’s new clothes 18+ (angst, smut, historical au)

blank canvas 18+ (angst, established relationship, tattoo artist au)

daddy’s little devils 18+ (fluff, slice of life, smut)

ride or die 18+ (fluff, smut, biker boy x book girl au)

on track (fluff, established relationship, motogp rider!sukuna)

♱ zen’in naoya.

with malice aforethought 18+ (angst, traditional, smut)

vice versa 18+ (canon compliant, explicit smut)

♱ fushiguro megumi.

romeo ♱ juliet (tragedy, period piece, royal au)

♱ itadori yuuji.

homebound (angst, fluff, spider-man au)

♱ okkotsu yuuta.

he loves me, he loves me not 18+ (fluff to angst, established relationship, yandere)

♱ various; gojou satoru, zen’in naoya, fushiguro toji.

ace of spades (isekai, fantasy, royal, historical au)

angst anthology (angst, hurt no comfort, modern au)

DRABBLES.

♱ gojou satoru.

daddy on duty 18+ (drabble to sensei off duty)

how to break a toxic ex-boyfriend’s heart (drabble to casanova)

christmas morning :: what could’ve been (au drabble to sincerely yours)

what’s wrong with gojo sachiro? (au drabble to sincerely yours)

two wheels and a hot guy (biker!gojou)

miscellaneous AUs

all rights reserved © 2021 saintobio. please do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform.

[rviellvs]

sincerely not. (9)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

with an arranged marriage set in place, the sacred bond is doomed with a wife who wants to make the relationship work and a husband who’s ready to ruin it all. unbeknown to him, a tragic fate already lies within the pages of his romance book.

genre. heavy angst, unrequited love, arranged marriage, modern au, 18+

tags/warnings. hurt/comfort, illness, mentions of pregnancy, infidelity

notes. 9.2k wc. thank u sm @/suhkusa & @/rinstars for beta-ing last minute, so grateful for u both <3 anyway, the devil works hard but saint works harder >:D enjoy this chapter!

series masterlist -> episode ten

“Y/N, are you ready for your results?”

You hated hospitals. You hated the antiseptic smell that lingered through the air, spanning a good portion of the hallways that never allowed you an escape from the miasma of alcohol that hung around the establishment. You hated the harsh fluorescent lighting and the neutral colors that accentuated the stark room with a sterile and uninviting surrounding. You hated the dissonant sounds of the machines, the general cacophony from the staff, the flash of people in white garments—everything about the hospital attracted your repressed anxiety.

The olfaction was the worst of them all because it was omnipresent and it triggered the unwanted, not even nostalgic, memories that you have spent years wanting to escape from.

It has been a decade since you lost your mom. A period of ten years where life hasn’t been the same for you—from shutting yourself out from the world, eventually cutting people off, to losing the motivation to pursue your dreams—you never thought that a person��s death could carry this much anguish in your heart. You shared your mother’s throes for when she was in the median between life and death, remembering how her frail hands held yours in her last moments, staring at your face with a breather covering her mouth. You watched her die before your eyes while knowing that you were the last person she saw before she departed from her physical body.

You watched how people eventually moved on with their lives, only a week since your mom’s funeral rites as though it was easy to forget a person who once existed to bring joy and comfort for those around her. Death was inevitable and that was not something you could deny because life was an endless cycle of birth, death, and reincarnation. However, even as the person transcends to the afterlife, what would remain after their death was the infliction of pain for the ones left behind.

And that pain was truly of the worst kind.

“Y/N?”

Cutting out of your trance, you met Dr. Mori’s deep russet eyes with a suppressed sigh. “Yes, doc.”

In his hand was a copy of your electrocardiogram that he squinted at behind his thick framed glasses. “Based on your ECG, it seems that you have developed what we call an Angina Pectoris,” he carefully revealed, gauging on your reaction as he spoke, “we also refer to it as Stable Angina. Are you familiar with that?”

Your nod was hesitant but rueful withal. Because of the unbearable chest pain that you’ve had back in Bora Bora, you suspected that something about your heart was not functioning right anymore and you knew that you were bound to be destroyed by another devastating news that did not root from your husband’s mistreatment this time. His words and actions were painful, but discovering about your illness was excruciating. “So I have a serious heart condition?” your lips quivered as you asked. Your face, pallor. Void of any other color but ashen hue.

“It’s not life threatening yet,” he quickly clarified as if to console you from the anxiety that was building inside, “but it could be detrimental if you don’t take good care of your heart. In your case, you experience episodes of squeezing, pressure, or tightness in the chest area because the blockage in your arteries hinders blood from flowing through your heart. You are at a high risk factor for coronary artery disease so I’m gonna have to put you on strict medications to prevent that.”

As much as the news sucked the life out of you, your initial reaction was to be completely numb. You were already deadened inside after all the things that you’ve had to go through for the past week and learning about your illness was the icing on the cake. You were on the brink of losing your sanity. Truly, how could life be so cruel? How could the universe offer you nothing but endless torment? All this suffering had you starting to believe that you might have been a terrible person in your past life and you were paying the price in this lifetime.

“Any family members that have had similar heart-related problems before?” The doctor was writing down on a pad of paper, jotting down any necessary information that he could get from your medical history.

You held it together for your sake, but you could see that the man sympathized with his patient beyond his sworn obligation. “My mom.” The hammering feeling returned to your chest just by answering the doctor’s question. “She died because of her heart disease about ten years ago.”

“Ah, so it’s hereditary,” he hummed, the ticking of the clock was louder than his voice. “That’s one of the risk factors, but it could also root from extreme physical activities or severe emotional stress. Since you have a weak vessel, those aforementioned can narrow your arteries and trigger angina. Is there anything that’s been stressing you out lately?”

You almost wanted to laugh. Bitterly. Spitefully.

Why on Earth did you always have to be on the losing side? How could your husband sleep peacefully at night while you always had to wake up facing a new plight? If you were going to answer the doctor’s question, Satoru Gojou was the sole reason for your stress. Heartache. Sorrow. The man you called your husband, the same man who threw his ring on the ocean without sympathy for the wife that sacrificed her fears just to search for it—he was responsible for the permanent damages on your heart. But even then, you could not blame him.

He was not at fault that you lived with a frail heart to begin with. He was not at fault for lashing out at you after you uttered hurtful things about his mom. These things were beyond his control and he was completely unaware of the byproduct that came forth from your failed marriage.

“There were some things that have been stressful,” you admitted, doleful eyes glued on the hourglass sitting atop the table. “Is it possible to reverse my condition?”

A yes was what you hoped for, but a no was what reality brought back to you.

“Angina is irreversible. There is no immediate cure for it but that’s why you need to change your lifestyle and take medications to prevent it from becoming worse. You’re in the early stages so there’s no need to place too much stress on yourself, alright?” Dr. Mori offered a comforting albeit professional smile as he saw the despondency in your mien. “My best advice is for you to detach yourself from the primary cause of your stress. It could be a lifesaver.”

Detachment—something that you should have done long ago instead of pathetically fooling yourself thinking that your marital gaps could be fixed by filling up the empty spaces. It was distressing to know that all your time and effort into making your marriage work would be thrown to waste, but you had to do things for your sake and not his anymore.

This marriage was your downfall and you ought to save yourself before it could kill you. Literally.

Somehow, you found it surprising how you were able to gather yourself together despite finding out about the dreadful news. To know that you might end up six feet under and be forgotten in this world like your mom did was an experience that left blisters on your heart. Was it depressing? It would definitely catch up to you within the next few days, but for now, you carried the heavy weight on your slumped shoulders as you listened to your doctor’s next instructions with a lifeless look on your face. Medications, diet, and avoidance towards stress. He spent the next thirty minutes yapping about the do’s and don'ts that were crucial to your heart’s condition while you sat there trying to hold it all together.

By the time you left his clinic, you were no longer all too stunned when you happened to bump into Dr. Shoko Ieiri from the Department of Obstetrics and Gynecology who was immediately pulling you inside of her office with a troubled expression on her pale face. It had been a week since you came home from the traumatic trip, ignoring the entirety of your husband’s existence as you left him and his mistress when you took the commercial flight back home. It was Ieiri who stayed with you after you passed out from being a dried prune with all the tears you’ve shed over your supposed partner in life. It was her who made sure that Satoru couldn’t talk to you while she and Getou drove you to your dad’s mansion as soon as you landed back in Japan.

If you weren’t burdened by the unbearable pangs inside of your ribcage, you would have found it ironic that Satoru’s own friends could not find it in themselves to support his actions.

“Did you get checked?” Ieiri immediately greeted you with a fusillade of questions as she took notice of the huge brown envelope on your hand. “What happened? What was the result?”

You blamed it on Shoko’s comforting presence because tears pricked at your eyes now that you could finally release the emotions that you’ve kept inside the bottle. “I want to keep this between us but I have a heart condition,” you gave her an honest response while her sunken eyes measured your visage, “It’s gonna worsen over time if I don’t take care of myself.”

“Oh, gosh… Y/N.” She didn’t even hesitate at pulling you into her arms, hiding the glaze of sadness in her eyes. “I’m…” She was rendered speechless and so were you. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

You learned that people, even those not at fault, would apologize for things they did not do because they wanted to extend their sincerest sympathies. Ieiri was the living example of that. She has always been perceptive and sensitive towards other people’s miseries, something that your husband considerably lacked.

“Don’t apologize,” your voice broke, “I had a feeling that I was gonna inherit it from my mom. I’m just glad Gen didn’t.”

Pulling away, she rubbed your back for some comfort. “I mean, you’re literally the kindest and you don’t deserve everything that’s been happening especially with Go—”

“I haven’t seen him in a week,” you cut her off before his name could leave her lips. You genuinely wanted to avoid any topic concerning your husband because even the mere mention of his name could put you on your deathbed at this point. “But I don’t think I can go back to the mansion tonight after knowing about my health. I might just end up breaking down in front of Gen and my dad. I-I don’t wanna worry them.”

She squeezed your arms and you could see it in her eyes that she understood how difficult and emotionally taxing it was for you. “Do you need a place to stay?”

Surely, it was the smartest option, but not as easy as she made it sound. “No, I have to… sort some things out back at the penthouse.”

As much as you dreaded going back to that place to see the man who loathed every fiber of your being, you would rather deal with Satoru now than to be in your weakest state in front of your own family. It was a gamble, but you knew that you would only end up losing on the latter. With Gojou, there was nothing more for you to lose because there hadn’t been any gain in the first place. He might probably even celebrate the fact that your death was only a hair's breadth away. In the end, you had to pay for ruining his life through this marriage. After all, you were a curse more than a blessing for him.

“Okay… well.” Ieiri held your hand with a much needed warmth. “If you need anything, please please let me know. It breaks me to see how you’re dealing with all of this.”

It broke you, too. Wrecked you, even. Your mother’s death left a significant void in your soul and you witnessed the scars it left on your dad—scars that never healed and would stay with him until his last breath. Imagining your father’s reaction to you having a similar health condition would absolutely crush his whole world.

At the end of the day, you still chose to protect everyone’s emotions other than yours.

Dealing with something of this gravity was more than a person could take. Despite the people that surrounded you, you felt so lonely. So forlorn. Everyone else had their own thing going on with their lives while you were bedeviled by the grief in yours. It seemed that the onus was always on you, never of anyone else’s. Happiness was never within your reach because all the universe ever planned for you was to make your human life a living hell.

You were swamped with deep thoughts when you drove around town; lost in the sea of cars moving and passing, of traffic lights blinking and switching, of the people walking and smiling. There was no one to share your troubles with. No one to release the blues in your heart because you were meant to face everything by yourself.

However, while you were stuck in heavy traffic gazing at the baby blue skies, you remembered the one person who believed and encouraged your dreams without even knowing your history. It was the hopelessness that urged you to fish out your purse, withdrawing a certain business card so you could dial the number printed under his name. And as you held the phone to your ear, your listlessness shifted into sanguine.

“Hello?” The deep voice from the other end of the line sparked electricity within your heart. “Who’s calling?”

With a deep breath, you tapped the steering wheel and answered, “Mr. Toji Zen’in, it’s Y/N.” A smile momentarily concealed the pain in your voice. “I was just wondering if I can still take you up on your offer?”

Satoru has not had any decent sleep for the past week.

There was no point in lying. As much as he hated to admit it, he was absolutely miserable without you. Ever since that failure of a weekend getaway, he was haunted by the guilt of putting you through colossal pain all because his wrath swallowed him whole. He had already inflicted damage before his mind became lucid, realizing how the extent of his actions affected you to the point of being completely irreparable. He couldn’t even do damage control because Ieiri wouldn’t allow him to see you. Getou, despite being his closest friend, kept insisting that he should leave you alone.

For how long? He had been deeply agitated because he couldn’t deal with the amount of overthinking that plagued his mind lately. He did not hear from you throughout your absence nor did anyone from your family tried to contact him. Were they aware of what happened? Were you bound to ask for a divorce again? This was the exact reason why he couldn’t drive up to your place and pick you up because he was scared shitless that his presence would provoke you to further reject him.

He fucked up and didn’t know how to turn things around for the better. His greatest fear was for this incident to become a domino effect, from the downfall of your marriage to putting the company in dire straits.

‘You’re becoming like the person you hate the most.’ He recalled Getou’s words and refused it all the more. ‘You already lost her.’ He couldn’t lose you. These things could still be fixed, but what he could never accept was hearing how he was acting exactly like his father. He would never in his life be like the twisted man who ruined his childhood and drove his wife away from his son.

Satoru knew that you made extremely valid points for not wanting a baby, except his ego and his pride just didn’t allow him to immediately understand your perspective with a rational mind.

And Sera. Damn it. What has he done? She was the result of all the rage that consumed him after your big fight. Getting her pregnant out of spite would be the worst case scenario in his already tainted life and he had to prevent it before things got out of control.

With all the said factors in mind, Gojou has completely lost his equanimity. He never thought that he would have to rely on sleeping pills just to get a wink of sleep because his nightmares were getting worse. He would wake up in the middle of the night touching your side of the bed and feeling nothing but cold, empty space. He would go to the office without paying attention to his attire because he couldn’t be bothered to carefully pick the right one for himself. He attended meetings with bags under his eyes, succumbing into deep thoughts when he should be focusing on important business matters.

You weren’t supposed to affect him this much. Why couldn’t he just keep the same frenzied rage that he had when he heard the trenchant words you’ve said about his mother leaving him? Why couldn’t he keep the same attitude when he threw the ring in the ocean and left you sobbing on your knees before he went to his other woman to fuck her stupid?

All he could think of for now was how he could no longer spend another night without seeing or hearing from you. He was going insane. Because, for some unidentifiable reason, his stone cold heart craved your warmth.

“—the goal is to take over J-Air and make it one of the top three leading airlines on a global scale.” Right in front of Satoru was the Chief Operating Officer, delivering a presentation in a long table full of shareholders who all listened intently to the proposal. “According to the financial statement in the business plan, the assets at the fiscal year-end increased by 125.4 billion yen from the end of the previous fiscal year to 1 trillion 854.2 billion yen, mainly due to procurement of aircraft and advance aircraft payments. The liabilities increased by 34.7 billion yen from the end of the previous fiscal year to 760 billion yen due to issuance of corporate bonds and an increase in loans—”

Gojou’s deep exhale earned the attention of the shareholders before he cut to the chase. “What’s the ratio? It’s not in the presentation.”

The COO stammered as he assessed the ceiling-to-floor projector screen. “Uh, well the equity ratio rose by 1.0 percentage points from the end of the previous fiscal year to, uh… 56.9%.”

“Are you sure it’s not 57.2%? How could you mess up the numbers?” Gojou’s austere businessman facade had always been deemed intimidating by everyone else in the room during executive meetings. It didn’t matter if these people were part of the company’s upper echelon. The aura and power that he has was something that they also saw through his father which were both a compliment and an insult for him. Business-wise, Satoru would be happy to hear that he had the same sagacity as his father. But outside of the business world, saying that to his face would send the person into the pits of hell.

One of the lines that can never be crossed in Satoru Gojou’s handbook was to say that he was the exact copy of his dad.

The COO nodded apologetically. “You’re right. My apologies for the error.”

If Satoru didn’t study the financial statements prior to the trip, he doubted that he would have had the capability to make rational decisions on his own since his mind was a befuddled mess all because of you—something very unusual for the frontman who led the general stockholders’ meetings when the Chairman was overseas. Since his father was in Macau to fulfill a proposition for a newly built hotel and casino, Satoru was in charge of approving all the remaining proposals from small acquisitions to huge corporate alliances for the month.

He didn’t want to stall things further when he finally made a decision. “Complete the acquisition,” he ordered in an orotund voice, quickly gaining looks from all the shareholders in the long table. “This should be done in four months. Let’s end the meeting here.”

He was already getting up from his chair, striding across the room as the COO and all the shareholders politely bowed at his exit. His new secretary struggled to keep up with his pace being only recently hired by his father and clearly still requiring more time to adapt in a competitive environment. The woman had many things to catch up on and her boss wasn’t exactly very friendly within the glass walls of the C-Suite floor so Satoru already expected that this poor girl wouldn’t last more than two months.

“Miwa Kasumi, was it?” Gojou only spoke when he entered his office, followed by his seemingly inexperienced secretary. Her nod was brief as she stood by the door. “What’s my schedule for the day?”

She quickly checked through her iPad. “Ah, well… None for the day, sir,” she said, pausing for a moment before adding, “although your wife called today—”

“What’d she say?” With wide sapphire eyes, Satoru was ashamed at how he immediately looked back at her for some news.

Contrarily, Miwa was not surprised at the urgency in her boss’ tone. “Um, she just wanted to check if you had any appointments left.”

Why would you ask for his schedule? Were you planning to finally come back home today? From the corner of his eyes, Satoru saw Sera walking past his office with the click clack of her heels and that ultimately distracted him from the thought of you. However, this time around, it was only because of her presence that his anxiety increased, remembering that he still had to deal with another crucial issue at hand.

“Secretary Miwa,” Gojou gave her one last order before he followed Sera out of the door. “Get the best bouquet you can find. I need it for my wife.”

“Why can’t you do anything right?!” For the longest time, Sera had to put up with her insufferable boss who never once treated her with kindness. Mrs. Fujikawa was one of the strictest Executive on the floor and to some extent, Sera could understand that it was only driven by her challenging role as the company’s CFO. But seeing as how the stern woman showered you with compliments every time you visited the office, she could feel nothing but resentment for the fact that you were only getting treated well because of your status. Sera hated it. She hated just how easy life was for someone like you. “Your photocopies come out like a mess. You don’t get paid to waste my time seeing these unaligned copies一are you listening?!”

In obligatory acquiescence, she gave the woman an apologetic bow. “I’m sorry, Miss. I’ll just do all five-hundred pages again.”

“You better!” Mrs. Fujikawa unforgivably slammed the papers atop the fax machine and pivoted on her heels as she left. Sometimes, Sera wondered if the reason why this woman acted unpleasantly towards her was because she had an inkling about her secret relationship with Satoru. If that was the case, then it would justify just why Mrs. Fujikawa slapped her with the extreme contrast between how you and her were treated.

She couldn’t understand why the elite loved stepping on the lesser people’s shoes like it was their day job. Sera couldn’t even feel an ounce of sympathy for what happened to you back at the trip because she believed that it was karma for your desperate pursuance to make Satoru yours. You needed to know your place, and if passing out from crying was how you would wake up to your senses, then it was good enough that it happened. You have not even experienced half the suffering that Sera had to endure in her life.

It was farcical how you could ruin her day without even showing up in the office. She has no idea how things were between you and Gojou after the trip, but what was aggravating her was how the man couldn’t pay attention to her as much as he used to. Something seemed to have changed. Something seemed to have snapped within him but she could not fathom what exactly it was. Guilt? Remorse? Satoru shouldn’t even feel bad. He never really desired you, anyway.

Sera let herself be swallowed by her bitter thoughts while she spent the next hour skipping her lunch because she was burdened by the amount of photocopies that she needed to finish. And at long last when she had completed her tedious task, she left the copies in Mrs. Fujikawa’s office and marched across the corridor knowing that Satoru would catch a glimpse of her.

Her intuitions were right. She was always right. Because not even a minute after she passed by his office, he was already snatching her arm and pulling her inside the vacant and isolated meeting room to hide from the prying eyes of his employees.

“We need to talk.” Satoru did not make an effort to turn the lights on. Still, Sera could see the consternation in his stance and she despised just how he wasn’t being the usual confident and poised man that she fell in love with. This Satoru was different and unappealing.

She crossed her arms and leaned against the table. “Talk about what?” If she was being honest, Gojou looked awful. His collar was visibly creased and two of his buttons were undone because he didn’t care enough to wear a necktie.

“You took the plan B when I told you to, right?” he asked, perturbed and all. So this was what was causing his anxiety? How laughable. “Answer me,” he egged on, now grabbing her wrist to make her look at his eyes.

Sera, overcome with bitterness, gave him a scoff. “What if I didn’t? Are you that scared that I could be pregnant? Weren’t you so ready to be a daddy?”

“Don’t fuck with me,” he snapped, chest rising and falling deeply. “You’re not valuable enough to ruin my life.”

Taken aback from his piercing remark, she pushed him off. “Not valuable?” A laugh of disbelief followed. “You say I’m the only woman you love and suddenly I’m not valuable? Go fuck yourself, Satoru. It’s not like you even feel anything for her.”

Instead of quickly apologizing like he normally would, he chose not to take his words back despite the puncture it left on Sera’s heart. “You’re not stupid enough not to understand the situation, right?” Not once did he look away. “I know we’ve been in denial about this whole infidelity thing but everyone will see you as a homewrecker. It’ll ruin us both.”

“Why didn’t you pull out if you’re so scared?” she questioned with gritted teeth. Gojou’s logical reasoning was unbelievably asinine. “Ruin us? Why? You were going to divorce her either way.”

Sera didn’t know what hurt more. If it was knowing how Satoru didn’t want a baby with her or hearing him choose you if she ever made him pick what his priority was. At this rate, the restlessness in his face was a sign of how he must have seen his life crumbling down before him.

“Just get a pregnancy test as soon as possible.” He averted his eyes and threw his head back, releasing an exasperated sigh from his peachy lips. “We can’t have a baby. It’s all my fault but we really can’t.”

Sera ignored the searing ache in her heart but tightened her fist nonetheless. “Why? Is she threatening you or what?”

He answered by shaking his head. “She hasn’t come home for a week now.”

So this was what it was. Sera could see it now. Because you had not come home, he had no outlet to release the intensity of his anger but on her. She was the recipient of his rage because you chose to be dramatic about the whole trip. How much of an attention seeker could you be?

“Don’t you realize that she’s maybe just trying to get you to chase her?” she pointed out to enlighten his mind.

Surprisingly, however, he dismissed the thought. “I need her back home regardless.”

Pathetic. This wasn’t Satoru. Sera was displeased to see this other side of him. “You’re not you,” she said, strictly. “Get a hold of yourself. You’re desperate ‘cause you think your plans are gonna fail. Can’t you just resolve it instead of pretending like you need her so badly?”

“I am resolving it.” Satoru’s back collided against the wall as his lover took another step to pin him back. She distracted him by trailing kisses along his jaw, pressing herself against his chest while he spoke his mind. “Just that if she walks out on me, it… it would remind me of when my mom left—”

Sera had to pull away and roll her eyes. “Here we go again.” Truth was, she had no time for this. “I’ve heard about your mother leaving over and over. It’s getting old. Move on.”

Seriously, if he hated his mother so much then why couldn’t he just forget about her? There were more problems to face in life. Sera already had baggage on her own and carrying Satoru’s along with hers was asking for too much. He was a grown adult. Instead of burdening her with his own problems, he should know that there were boundaries that shouldn’t be crossed.

“I’m not in the mood anymore. Talk to me when you figure things out,” was the last thing she said before she left him alone to reflect by himself.

Perhaps she needed some self-reflection, too. She needed some time to think about what would happen if she really did end up pregnant with his child. Frankly, it was all Sera ever wanted because she couldn’t see being with anyone other than Satoru. What would only make the situation problematic was how his father would possibly strip him off of his rights to be the next CEO because of the amount of scandal that it could put the company through. Sera used to understand that Satoru had to make sacrifices to achieve his ideal life, but his indecisiveness and more so his recklessness was making her frustrated.

Had he not shown any signs of genuine affection towards you, Sera never would have acted this way.

She carried the same frustration until she came home to her family’s new apartment downtown. Because of the ten million that she received from Satoru’s dad, Sera was able to lease a decent three-bedroom home in a nice neighborhood as compared to the one she grew up in. Thinking back of how awful their previous house was, she had no intentions of ever going back to the inner-city slums.

Still, life has been unsatisfying for her. When she entered the house, she could immediately smell the stench of alcohol that came from her drunkard father who was sitting on the couch doing nothing like the waste of space that he was. Peeking from the kitchen was her mother cooking their supper, immediately welcoming Sera with a smile as soon as she entered the door.

“My daughter,” she cooed, holding a spatula and wiping her other greasy hand on her apron.

Sera barely acknowledged her mom as she kicked her heels out of the way, walking past her parents while heading straight into her room. At least, her personal space was neat and tidy. Nearly everything in her room was a light shade of yellow and she couldn’t wait for the day when she would finally be able to sleep in a king-sized bed, sharing a room with the one person that she loved.

“Nee-chan?” Her younger sister, Nari, called by the door. “Dinner’s ready.”

Her face stayed rigid. “Yeah, I’ll come out in a while.” Frankly, Sera was feeling lackluster after the conversation that she had with Satoru this afternoon. She was truly upset at how the man was denying the thought of having a baby with her but was willing to have all of that with you. It wasn’t her insecurity tugging at her, she was simply distasteful at the fact that you had a leverage into high society because you were born with a silver spoon on your mouth.

With a restrained sigh, she walked into the mirror and twisted her body, caressing her stomach and imagining how she would look like with a bump growing day by day.

“Sera—!”

God. “I’m coming!” she yelled, slipping out of her office attire and changing into more comfortable clothes. As soon as she got out of her room, the perpetual frown reappeared on her face when her father nearly stumbled onto the dining table. “You said you’ll stop drinking!”

The old man looked up with half-lidded eyes and a stupid grin. “Sera, my daughter!”

“You’re revolting.” Her brows were all furrowed as her siblings watched her harshly pulling out a chair with her misdirected temper.

Her mother was quick to place a piece of fried fish on her plate, only to earn her look of disappointment. “Why? You don’t like the food?”

“I don’t wanna eat this,” Sera complained, huffing in displeasure. “Didn’t I give you enough money to buy good meat?”

All her mother could offer was an apologetic smile. “I had to limit our budget since your dad was….” the increasing silence in her tone was a clear message for Sera. Her father gambled, again. “I’ll try to bargain for some wagyu beef in the market next time.”

No, she was no longer in the mood to eat. She already had an exhausting day at work and despised that she had to come home to this household at all. With the combination of her stress and frustration, she got up from her seat and slammed the chair back in. All of them were startled by her fit of pique but she didn’t even try to conceal it as she looked at her parents with fire blazing in her eyes.

“Nee-chan, calm down,” said Jiro, her brother, who tried to prevent his sister’s growing ire.

“Why would I?” Sera stared daggers at her parents. “Why would I calm down when I have to deal with all of you by myself? Our mom and dad are useless.” Her scoff was full of antagonism. “I don’t deserve to be born into a poor family, but I have no other choice because our parents are failures!”

Silence filled the room because they knew that Sera was becoming tired of having to be the breadwinner of her family. Life’s full of shit, she had that in mind. It was unfair how others had the privilege to be raised in a rich household while she was punished with jobless parents who did nothing but watch their eldest child work her ass off every single day. See, this was the difference between you and her. You didn’t experience this much hardship in life for you to complain about not winning Satoru’s heart.

If Sera couldn’t have anything, then you shouldn’t, too. It was only fair.

“I’m going to bed,” she announced, stomping her way out of the dining area wishing that it was as easy to walk away from the life that she was given.

Toji was the CEO of one of the top conglomerates in Japan and it was normal to perceive the guy as an intimidating man with a dominating presence who could make a room full of people bow at his feet.

But between him and Gojou, he wasn’t exactly the type of man who would uphold his authority just to feel superior. He leaned more into having an approachable stance contrary to popular belief because he knew that his actions would reflect the image of his family’s business empire一the same image will be passed on to his employees who all looked up to him as their highest-ranking executive. How could he inspire people if they were scared of him? That was the easiest way to put it.

You didn’t even feel uncomfortable around him despite not having seen the man for weeks, because as soon as he entered the cafe, he had a boyish grin tugging at his scarred lips when he met you at your table. Beyond the simple hi’s and hello’s, or the how are you’s and the small talk, the man was clearly perceptive to your emotions that he was fast to notice the sorrows that you’ve tried to mask with your docile eyes.

“You’re not here to talk business with me, are you?” His question may be straightforward, but there was comfort laced behind his tone.

Your lips stretched into a small smile. “I’m sorry. You probably have more important things to deal with.”

He quickly countered your assumption with a playful joke, “I can make time for Mrs. Zen’in.”

“Silly.” This wasn’t the first time he managed to make you laugh in your deepest lows. How could someone who wasn’t even your husband be able to do what your spouse was supposed to?

Hesitantly, you tapped your fingers on your cup of coffee and tried to gather yourself together. Back to the real deal, what was the best way to tell someone that you were bound to tragically die? The doctor did say that your case was not life threatening yet, but you already knew where it would lead to. Holding onto false hopes would only wreck you, so it was better to face the harsh realities than to maximize the weight of your suffering for when the time comes.

“No, I… uh,” you paused as you took a deep breath and met his emerald eyes with a glint of hope, “I just wanted to tell you that I need to meet Mai and Maki soon. Maybe Megumi, too.”

The man in a black suit leaned back on his chair without taking his gaze off you. “That’s it?” he asked, looping his fingers onto the ceramic cup before taking a sip from his freshly brewed Americano. “For what?”

You tilted your head a little. “I sketched a new batch of designs and I want to personally have it tailored for them.”

Toji glanced at your lips before meeting your eyes again. “The kids would love that,” he said, immediately taking it back, “Well, not kids anymore, I guess,” and in between his sentences, you found solace from his presence. “How about you come visit the estate tomorrow?”

“Great, I will.” You already looked forward to it knowing that the Zen’ins seem to have such a great relationship with one another. In that sense, the happiness in their household was what yours lacked. Now that you were doomed with a heart problem aside from your loveless marriage, you couldn’t exactly tell how you would proceed to live a contented life. You didn’t have the clarity to think of what you should do to avoid further damages that you have long sustained by keeping your marriage intact. Toji didn’t specifically ask about what was going through your mind, but his obvious concern allowed you to finally spill your thoughts. “I just found out that I… I have a certain heart condition that requires me to keep myself away from severe emotional stress, otherwise it could… be life threatening.”

Unlike Ieiri, his reaction wasn’t big. He was calm and composed, but he was reading through the emotions present on your face as he took a few minutes to let the news sink into him. And even then, feeling sorry was not his option because instead of treating your situation as if it was pitiful, he actually gave you a boost of encouragement. “Life’s too short not to enjoy the happy sides of it.” His eyes glazed with rue nevertheless. “This is the perfect opportunity to focus on yourself and what will bring you happiness. Your dreams, your passion一it’s not too late, Y/N. Having an illness, no matter the magnitude, shouldn’t hold you back from pursuing your heart’s desire.”

He was right. While it was natural for you to think that halcyon days were now out of your reach, it was also a good wake up call for you to realize that you should put your happiness first before anyone else’s. You shouldn’t be counting your last days on Earth, and instead, anticipate the rest of your sunrises and sunsets without any regret.

“I just don’t know where to start,” you admitted, looking at the glass wall and watching the beads of rain bouncing on the concrete. The sky was crying and so should you.

“Does he know?” the man asked. “Or does he care?”

Your crestfallen face could speak for itself. “I don’t plan to tell him,” you said, eyes beginning to pool of tears, “and I一I think it’s healthier for me to maintain my distance.”

Toji wholeheartedly agreed. “You know, staying with him is your fatal flaw.”

The man wasn’t even aware of your husband’s infidelity and ill-treatment. He was simply an innocent bystander and yet he could confidently say that being with Satoru was your hamartia in this tragic love story. Perhaps it was easy to see. Or maybe, he was once in a toxic marriage which made it effortless for him to notice the red flags in yours. If your husband was your own destruction, the only way to prevent it was through divorce.

You weren’t exactly ready to deal with the strain that it would cause you.

What you could do, on the other hand, was to toughen your walls around him. No more setting aside your emotions for his sake, no more extensive effort to save your marriage for your own desire. Your only purpose from hereafter was to live your best life without sacrificing anything more than you already have for a husband who could never love you.

Gojou had never been this nervous coming home.

His hands trembled when he opened the door to the penthouse, holding the bouquet of red roses that his secretary specifically picked for you. He had a gut feeling that you would be coming home tonight because there wouldn’t be any other reason for you to ask about Satoru’s schedule if it wasn’t to prepare yourself when he arrived.

He wouldn’t say that he missed you, but he hasn’t seen your face for a week. He hasn’t heard your voice. Hasn’t received your kisses.

Those feelings of longingness had completely washed away as soon as he entered the apartment and spotted you sitting on the couch, overlooking the cityscape in complete silence. His heartbeat increased exponentially and his desperate footsteps quickly led him to you but he had to slow himself down in case his presence was too overwhelming.

You didn’t exactly acknowledge him right away even when he placed the bouquet on the coffee table before he walked closer and crouched down to look at you. “You’re back.”

It was like he was seeing a different person. Your eyes were empty, your lips were pale. The depressing sadness was overflowing but not once did you make an effort to look at his eyes.

“Y/N…” He grabbed your hand and squeezed it. “Can we talk about what happened?”

He wasn’t prepared to talk about it, frankly. In fact, he was afraid to look back at what happened because he knew that he fucked up and he knew that he completely ruined you. However, Satoru learned that he had to have the courage to open up before things could worsen. He didn’t even expect that you would be coming home at all so it wasn’t surprising to be welcomed with the palpable tension between you and him right now. It was so intense that it was almost tangible, but he was willing to face it all in exchange for seeing his soft-hearted wife back.

“Talk to me, please.”

Unfortunately, you weren’t very cooperative because you chose to close your eyes and lean your head back as if the man didn’t exist. He could see the slow rise and fall of your chest, the quivering of your lips, and the surge of tears that you were trying so hard to keep. It was as though you wanted to speak to him, but couldn’t. You wanted to open your mouth and say something, but felt that you shouldn’t.

His heart fell.

Since when did Satoru feel this much emotion from you? He felt the urgent need to hear your thoughts in order to comfort you but it wouldn’t be possible if you refused to even acknowledge him in the slightest. And as he held your hand, he noticed that the gold ring was no longer there.

“Wh-Where’s your—” Fuck. He didn’t even have the right to ask about the wedding ring. He just needed you to talk. That’s it. “Have you had dinner yet? Do you wanna go out—”

For the longest minute of his life, you finally moved but only to pull your hands away from his grasp, pressing your palm on your chest as you got up. “You stay away from me.”

Satoru would be a hypocrite if he said that he was actually hurt when he had told you many times to stay away from him in the harshest way possible. He treated you like garbage, stomped on your heart, poisoned your soul with venomous words. How exactly could he find an antidote to make you stay by his side?

He wasn’t used to this. When Getou told him that he already lost you, he had a hard time accepting it. You were still here, and if you coming back home meant that he could fix things, then he would do whatever it took to win you back.

For now, it was difficult to even get you to give him some attention because you avoided crossing paths with him as much as you could. He wasn’t dumb. You must have realized that there was no point in trying to resolve your marital issues when he was bound to pulverize your heart again one way or another. You were protecting yourself from getting hurt, and goddamn did it bring a pang of unshakable guilt to Satoru.

He couldn’t ignore the little things, too. Such as how you locked the door while you were taking your night shower when you used to let him enter anytime he wanted to. Gojou left for work this morning with an unmade bed and pieces of his clothing that were all over the floor. His leather shoes were scattered, his neckties were in disarray—everything was messy without you. Now, your shared bedroom was clean and tidy again, but there was a strange uninviting coldness that seeped through.

Because he was panicking without knowing what to do, Satoru spent some time lounging at the pool area as he dialed his best friend’s number. He hasn’t spoken to the guy since you all got back from Bora Bora and he was hoping that he could allow him to confide even just for tonight.

Getou knew that there was no other reason for Gojou to call at ten in the evening if it wasn’t about you. “What’s up?” The guy’s casual tone was a relief for Satoru to hear.

“Suguru, she came home,” he quickly spilled, looking up at the night sky as he leaned against the metal railings, “but she’s not talking to me.”

“Jesus. I wonder why?” His words dripped with sarcasm. “She doesn’t even know that you fucked a baby into Sera. It’s gonna ruin her.”

He took a deep breath and released it into a deep sigh. “Don’t tell her. I’m already trying to clear things up with Sera. She took the plan B.”

Getou snorted from the other end of the line. “Now you suddenly care about how Y/N would feel?”

Gojou couldn’t find a good rebuttal to his best friend’s question. The only thing he could do was express his distress. “She’s not wearing her ring anymore. I just know she’s about to bring up the divorce. Fuck, Suguru. I don’t know what to do.”

There was a minute of silence from his best friend’s side that Satoru almost thought he hung up on him. He even had to check the caller ID to make sure that he was still listening until he did speak again. “Did you know that Y/N jumped into the ocean to look for your ring and nearly drowned?”

Shit. “H-How—Why didn’t you tell me?” No wonder you couldn’t even spare him a glance. His stupid actions resulted in that, and he didn’t know if he could ever forgive himself for it. His wife. His poor wife. What had he done?

“You made it very clear that she didn’t mean anything to you.”

“Suguru,” he warned.

“What?” The guy scoffed. “It’s your marriage. Fix it without hurting her,” and before Gojou could respond, Getou added one last thing, “I found your ring and gave it to her. You can ask her for it.”

Fix it without hurting you—how could he actually do that?

It was nearly midnight when he returned to bed and saw you sitting in silence, sketching on your tablet with an unyielding gaze even as your husband slipped in next to you. His pride told him not to say anything and let you be, but for once, he let his heart win.

“Don’t you wanna sleep? It’s late,” he offered, scooting closer to give you a light kiss on the shoulder. At least, he could sleep well tonight knowing that you would be by his side.

Your hum was barely audible as you moved away.

Unlike for the past week, he surprisingly fell asleep quicker tonight. It didn’t even take him five minutes to fully succumb into his slumber without any nightmare waking him up in the middle of the night with cold sweats and a rapid heartbeat. The thing was, he did wake up but it was because your side of the bed felt empty.

When his eyes shot open at three in the morning, he had to make sure that he hadn’t dreamed about you coming home as he got up from bed and looked for you. You weren’t in the bathroom so where else would you be at this time of the night?

The answer to his question shattered the entirety of his heart because when he made his way out of the bedroom, he ended up seeing you sleeping like an angel on the couch with a blanket draped over your body. Curled in a fetal position, eyebrows creased as if you were having a bad dream.

This was it. This was how he finally opened his eyes to the accumulation of misery that he had put you through.

When he first got into this marriage with you, he remembered ruthlessly asking you to sleep on the couch on your exact first night as a newlywed couple. That version of him wouldn’t have cared now.

But this version of him quickly scooped you into his arms, carrying you out of the couch and tucking you back into your king-sized bed with only as little of a distance that he could give between you two. He was holding you close, so close that you could probably feel his heartbeat vibrating against your back because he wanted nothing but to make you feel the sincerity in his actions and just how regretful he was for everything that he has done.

“I’m sorry,” he just had to whisper it in your ear, kissing your temple when he hugged you tighter. “Y/N, I’m sorry. I know it’s not enough but it’s all I have.”

He felt warm drops of your tears falling on his forearm as you shifted to hide your face away. “M-My heart’s already suffering,” you spoke softly, unaware that the pain in your voice caused goosebumps all over his body, “please don’t make it suffer more.”

“I won’t—”

“All I-I ever wanted was a h-happy marriage.” Your chest heaved as you silently cried, but Satoru respected that you didn’t want your face to be seen as you shed more tears to release the agony that you’ve been keeping inside. The most he could do was to hold you in his arms and press his lips against the crook of your neck. “J-Just let me go.”

Satoru refused to. Now that he was hearing your downpour of raw emotions, he too was on the suffering end. He too could feel tears forming in his eyes as he listened to your heartache. “I don’t want you to go.”

How could he let you go? How could he let go of the only person that understood his pain? The person that went out of her way to comfort him despite the treatment she had to receive? He was goddamn scared to lose you and he could now see your importance to him. Gojou has done so many fucked up things in life, but seeing you like this was what finally turned things around.

He had to change course. He had to treat you better. And, for his sake and yours, he had to right his wrongs.

Things were too good to be true.

It was what you told yourself when you broke down in your husband’s arms last night until you fell asleep after all the tears that you had to release. For the first time since your marriage, Satoru did not move an inch to release you from his tight embrace. He was almost like a kid clinging to his mother, afraid to ever let her go.

Although, at daybreak you remembered that your life had drastically changed now. Giving into the rollercoaster ride of forgiving Satoru could be your destruction in the end. Just like what your doctor said, avoiding stress could be a lifesaver. Just like what Toji said, being with Satoru was your fatal flaw. Their respective advice was clear and reasonable.

Now it was on you to listen to them.

You have decided that from this day forward, you would only focus on yourself, your health, and your happiness. Not even Satoru would be able to break through your walls because you already learned. You had to be strong. You had to be independent.

Ironically, the tables seem to have turned, because when you were all dressed up at seven in the morning on a Saturday, your husband was the one who hugged you from behind and feathered kisses on your neck.

“Where you goin’?” he asked, voice deep and raspy. He sought for your attention with visible yearning.

You pushed his hand away and grabbed your bag. “Don’t wait on me. I’ll be out for the whole day.”

“Hold on.” Satoru’s electric blue eyes were wide as he held onto your wrist. “I need to ask something.”

After drawing a deep breath, you gave him an apathetic look and didn’t say a word.

He couldn’t veil the curiosity in his visage. “About the ring, Suguru told me he found it,” said he, shooting you a hopeful gaze like he still had every right to bring it up. “Can I have it back?”

The audacity. His request almost earned your scoff, but you decided to keep a straight face because it was better to hold back than to argue knowing that it wasn’t in your nature to act such. “I don't think you need it.”

“Y/N.” You couldn’t believe that he would follow you into the living room like a lost puppy, vying for your attention as if he had been deprived of it for the longest time. Unfortunately for him, showing his sincerity was more than just a bouquet of roses and barely audible apologies. “How do I make it up to you? I’ll do anything.”

You turned on your heel to leave. I’m sorry, Satoru. I have to protect my heart.

“You wanna make it up to me, you will do it for the rest of your life.”

[rviellvs]

𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫 [toji fushiguro]

synopsis: so she tells him not to cry over the injustice of a life cut too short for at the end of all this, she’ll only be a dream.

pairing: ex-husband!toji fushiguro x terminally ill wife!reader | song inspo: soon you’ll get better, cancer

warnings: heavy angst, terminal illness (primary bone cancer, stroke and MS), mentions of divorce/past infidelity, allegories to cheating, major character death. please read at your own risk. | a/n: this was so heavy for me to write, i started writing at 2 in the morning, and it’s 6:34 now.

word count. 3k~

“Why can’t you do anything right?”

Toji should have noticed, he laments as he takes a sip of his cognac. He should have sensed that something was wrong sooner, maybe that way, he wouldn’t be begging to borrow some more time to make things right. Your fingers were trembling that day — the first time you ever ruined his morning coffee — your hands shaking uncontrollably as you washed the mug with a sorrowful look on your face, your eyes glossy with the tears you were desperately trying to hold back.

He shouldn’t have been so harsh, he realizes that now. Breakfast had been burnt to a crisp and ruined, sure, but nothing could compare to how he constantly ruins the one beautiful thing that has ever happened to him, who haphazardly spilled her smoothie on him when they first bumped into each other in Shinjuku just after he finally cashed in enough money with Shiu to get his laundry done.

Toji, whose senses have now been honed to pick up on the slightest of your sluggish movements and your pained and suppressed hisses, hears the bedsheets rustling and he instantly gets up before you could even force yourself out of bed. “Hey, hey, easy now.” He catches you before you could fall backwards onto the mattress, your skin appears cold and clammy, your thinning muscles stiff as a board — you must be having one of your episodes again. “What do you need?” he asks, his voice heartbreakingly gentle for the first time in months.

“Water.”

Your husband nods, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed, hurriedly making his way to the dining table which was now kept in your bedroom so you aren’t forced to move around too much. The sound of water splashing into the glass fills the air and you feel another stabbing pain coarse through your joints.

Toji gingerly brings the glass of water to your lips and you sighed, an exasperated yet amused smile on your face. “I can do it, babe. Don’t worry.” Why did that sound like you were trying to convince not just Toji but yourself? You bring your bony hands to grip the glass and it takes everything out of your husband not to break into a fit of sobs when he sees your hand violently shaking with effort just to keep the glass steady.

His larger hands close around your defeated one. “I-I…I can do it, I did it yesterday. Y-you saw me.”

“Shhh, I know, it’s okay.”

You bite your lip to distract yourself from the anguish of realizing the truth behind the doctor’s words. Everything you feared was finally becoming your and Toji’s bleak reality.

“It’ll be a painful decline.”

Funny how you’re the one fighting to extend your life but Toji feels like he’s already gone ahead and passed on. Just a few minutes earlier, you were overjoyed to see him again. You didn’t think he’d see your text thinking that his new girlfriend must have asked him to block your number, and you most certainly didn’t expect him to arrive when you asked for him via a brief phone call to drive you to the hospital for your monthly checkup since he took the car with him when you separated. He made up a bullshit excuse when Yuko asked where he was going in such a hurry and he makes it to your old shared apartment to see you sitting on the driveway looking thinner and sicklier than ever — your eyes were sunken, and your cheeks were hollow.

Yet in spite of that, you gave him the brightest of smiles, waving shyly to him as he steps out of the driver’s seat. “Happy morning!” you smiled, greeting him with your signature good morning tagline which he used to happily wake up to everyday. There wasn’t a scintilla of resentfulness in your demeanor, and you genuinely looked so happy to see him for the first time since he moved out.

“How long?” Toji asked the doctor, his heart twisted into knots when he hears you happily humming in the MRI room as you put your clothes back on, oblivious to the solemn mood in the other room. You already knew what was going on, but you’ll just continue pretending that everything’s alright and that this is nothing more but a case of fatigue so as not to inconvenience Toji.

“A year, maybe even less.”

“And…you’re saying it’s best if she simply…doesn’t get the treatment?”

The doctor sighs heavily. She’s seen many cases like this before, but none as utterly hopeless as yours. Even if you did start the treatment, the lesions in your spinal cord have already entered the most severe stage, you were already exhibiting signs of autonomic nervous system distress — the tremors, the uncontrollable stuttering of your words, the growing loss of balance — and as if that wasn’t enough, the doctor also discovers that you were suffering from primary osteosarcoma.

There was no way to cure you now that it’s too late.

“I suggest we just focus on keeping her comfortable. The only thing left for us to do now is to bring her home. I’m so sorry.”

“You’re so fucking embarrassing. I can’t bring you anywhere.”

By some miracle, you and Toji went out one night around four months before the divorce proceedings. He went home that day, exhausted beyond all belief from another mission, but he was in a good mood. Yuko was out working late tonight, so, he decides to take you out to your and his favorite izakaya for some yakitori.

Some time during the night, after downing three full bottles of sake together, you excuse yourself to use the restroom. “I’ll be right back,” you told Toji, tipsily kissing him on the cheek as you hop off the bar stool in the direction of the women’s room.

You couldn’t tell if you were staggering from the copious amounts of alcohol you ingested, but your legs were beginning to feel heavy, and for some ominous reason, you were slowly losing all sensation in your left leg. You try to hold onto one of the izakaya’s shōji panel decor pieces to regain your balance, but it was a futile effort in the end. Your knees suddenly buckle, and a sickening crack tears through your tibia as you fall to the ground.

“Are you alright?!”

Toji picks up on the commotion instantly and he sees the izakaya patrons crowding around the hallway leading to the restroom. He quickly makes his way over and a look of disgust appears on his features when he sees you crumpled on the ground and the mortifying sight of you having relieved yourself on the floor, tears of embarrassment staining your cheeks at the thought of your body suddenly malfunctioning like this.

Muttering out an ignorant apology for his seemingly drunk wife, he roughly picks you up, growing increasingly infuriated with you when one izakaya employee offers him a damp cloth to dry out your urine with. It was funny how quickly other people came to your aid — people whose names you don’t even know — while your own husband seems very reluctant to even touch you right now. He doesn’t speak to you on the way home even as you apologize while he’s loading you into the car, grimacing when the leather seat gets wet. “Toji, I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened—“

“—Save it.”

What he should have said was: “Are you okay?”, “It’s alright.” or better yet, “I still love you.”.

At present, Toji decides on a whim to take you to Yokohama’s famed bayside today. It’s only a two hour drive from your place in Tokyo and Toji figures you must miss going on road trips by now with you cooped up at home all the time. “Toji, are you sure this is a good idea?” you murmured nervously as the car pulls to a stop by the bayside promenade. What happens if you can’t control yourself again? There doesn’t look to be a lot of public restrooms nearby.

Toji plants a reassuring kiss to your nose. “Babe, you remember what the doctor said, spending some time outdoors can do wonders for your health. Besides, didn’t you always love the coast?” He brings your hand to his scarred lips, rubbing his thumb against the soft skin before stepping out of the car to retrieve your wheelchair from the trunk.

“I know but what if I have another accident?” you said worriedly, rolling down the car windows so he could hear you. “What if I embarrass you again?”

“There’s nothing embarrassing about you.”

You’ve lost all control of your lower extremities three months ago, rendering you unable to walk and feel when you need to relieve yourself. Toji struggles with the wheelchair for a bit and a flash of sadness fills your heart when you see him take a few deep breaths to calm himself down. He wasn’t angry, he was devastated. He looks wistfully at the boardwalk, a distant gaze trained on the sea. He remembers when you used to walk down this very lane, his hand protectively around your waist as you happily take selfies. He could still hear your fond giggles the last time the two of you went here.

“Why don’t you ever smile when I take pictures of you?”

Toji shoos away a pigeon from stealing a bite of his ice cream sandwich. He feigns an unamused look when you try to take another picture of him on your phone.

“Come on, I’ve been trying to get a shot of you all day! You still have to take pictures of me so I can post it on my Instagram feed!”

Your ever moody husband pinches off a small piece of bread and feeds it to the nosy pigeon. “You and your precious feed,” he bemoans jokingly.

“Please? Just one picture!“ you playfully nudged him. Truthfully, you just wanted to see him smile for once, a genuine one and not one of those lopsided smirks he usually gives you when he’s teasing you. “Please?” you pout knowing he can never say no to that adorable face you make when you really want him to do something or worse, buy something for you.

Sighing, he turns to look at your phone’s camera lens and you blush when a smile slowly illuminates his usually stoic face. Your thumb hovers over the stop recording function, not realizing you’re taking a video, but you can’t seem to press it. “What’s taking so long?” he holds the smile like he’s some cartoon character and you snap out of it.

“Oh shoot, it’s a video!” you laughed, and you begin to run down the boardwalk, eagerly getting away from Toji who demands that you delete it immediately. Of course, you’re no match for his borderline inhuman speed attributed to his athletic physique and he catches you by the waist, playfully swinging you over his shoulder like you’re a sack of potatoes.

Now, your giggles have gone silent.

Toji realizes now he should have indulged you more over the course of your relationship and subsequent marriage. Had he known that you won’t even make it to your third wedding anniversary, he would have allowed you to take as many pictures and videos of him as you’d like, he’d swallow his pride and he’d give you the brightest of smiles so you could happily post him on your social media accounts with a heartwarming caption about him being your “smiley hubby”.

More than that though, he should have taken more photos of you, mostly stolen candid shots, of course. You can’t catch him being all soft on you now. He still has a reputation to live up to after all. But more than that, had he known that your illness was intent on stealing every scrap of you from him, he should have made more effort in preserving all these memories. He should have kept everything from those toll tickets on your late night drives together when the two of you just needed a quick escape from the world, to receipts from your trip to Tokyo Disney Sea on your first wedding anniversary, and even simple convenience store receipts.

Toji should have kept everything down to the smallest of memories knowing one day, that’s all he’ll have to remember you by.

He opens the passenger seat’s door and he effortlessly gathers you into his arms, being extra careful with your fragile form as he sits you down on the wheelchair. He opens the backseat and he pulls out two different colored blankets, one sea-foam green and the other, rose pink. “Take your pick,” he smiles at you and you chuckled softly, pointing to the rose pink one. He happily covers your legs with it to keep you warm, stroking your cheek when you whisper a bashful ‘thank you’.

Suddenly, the wind picks up and your hair-clip that’s holding your locks in a low bun comes loose, and your head turns in the direction of where it flew off to. Toji is quick to take out his phone and he snaps a quick burst shot of you, your hair blowing in the wind, under the coastal spring weather. You turn to look at him and your face falls when you see him burying his phone in his pocket. Since you fell ill, you’ve become insecure of your appearance, banning your husband from taking pictures and videos of you altogether. “Toji, I thought I said no pictures.”

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

The next day, you serendipitously find your photo on your Instagram handle with the caption: “Y/N — Yokohama, Spring, 2024” and when you swipe left, another picture, well to be more accurate, a screenshot of the video clip you accidentally took of him captioned: “Toji — Yokohama, Summer, 2022”.

“You don’t have to stick around for me. Please just go, I’m sure Yuko must be looking for you right now.”

Yuko, his new fiancé, had been blowing up his phone the entire day with texts demanding to know where he is and if he’s going to make it to their date that night. It’s 7 PM now, and Toji still hasn’t shown up to confirm their restaurant reservations. The damn witch will surely cuss him out when they see each other again, but for some reason, even if he tries, he simply cannot bring himself to give a flying fuck. Your immunologist and oncologist stepped out for a bit to allow you two a brief moment of privacy which had now stretched to an expanse of five hours since your results came in.

The air in the room is thick and heavy, not a single sound can be heard. Inside however, underneath this tough exterior he was projecting, Toji is throwing a fit, screaming at the sky like those broken men in those shitty Netflix romance tragedies he used to callously make fun of.

“Why didn’t you call me sooner? You knew, didn’t you?”

Toji’s bites his cheek trying to keep a lid on his emotions. He knows the answer. He just wants to hear you say it out loud. You hated him. You wanted nothing to do with him after he cheated on you with some girl he met at a bar in uptown Shibuya. That’s why you didn’t tell him, he didn’t deserve to know. “Shit,” he whispers harshly, crumpling the medical abstract in his hands. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick? Was it because you hated me? Is that it? You didn’t think I’d worry about you?”

You screwed your eyes shut, shaking your head. You didn’t hate him, not even when you have every reason to. He abandoned you, left you to waste away and to die and yet, even now, you can’t bring yourself to resent him for the simple reason that he is the literal love of your life, the reason behind your smiles, your happy mornings and passionate midnight hours. “At first, I thought I was fine, maybe just fatigued or something.”

“Don’t lie. You knew something was going on and that something in your body was seriously fucked up.”

“And we weren’t married anymore so, I didn’t think it was right to tell you…I wanted to though, but I didn’t want to intrude on you and Yuko,” you said meekly. Even in your greatest hour of need, you were still thinking of him, putting him first even when he doesn’t deserve it. “I-I…I don’t hate you enough to worry you, to make you feel that you could have done something to prevent this. Because I’m telling you right now, regardless if you were faithful or not, I was bound to get sick anyway. You couldn’t have done anything to change that.”

“But I could have been there. I should have noticed. I shouldn’t have downplayed everything.” He says this as if he wants to shake this noble, self-sacrificing bullshit attitude out of your system. “I’m your husband. I should have been there.”

You flash him a heartbroken smile at his little slip-up, so, even now, he was still referring to himself as your husband, not your ex-husband. “To see me waste away? Babe, I don’t want you to see that.”

You begin to feel tears streaming down your face, the emotions you were experiencing now flowing like a free river after an entire dam is destroyed. Toji watches you unravel before his eyes and his bottom lip begins to tremble. What has he done? Dear god, what has he done to his poor, poor wife?

“I want you to remember me healthy, I want you to remember me as myself not this…sickly pitiful woman you’re unlucky to call your ex-wife…besides, after all this, I’ll only be a dream.” A mere passing second in his life. “And believe me, my life wasn’t so bad.”

He loses it at that.

“Just stop this, Y/N! Stop acting like you’re not scared shitless of dying, like you’re not gonna have regrets once all this is over! Stop pretending that things are gonna be alright one day because it won’t! Not when I’m now being forced to accept that you won’t get better, not when I’ve wasted so much time putting you through hell and back instead of taking care of you like a proper husband should, and certainly not when I’m suddenly supposed to learn to say goodbye and to live without you! Because fuck that, Y/N!”

You are left speechless at that.

Toji was never one to lose his cool, even during your worst arguments, he may slide a few snarky remarks here and there but Toji Fushiguro…never yells, and he doesn’t sob either.

You hesitantly stand up and walk over to him, crouching down in front of him as he covers his tear-stained eyes with his right hand while the other is crumpled around your medical abstract. Taking his left hand, you gently remove the medical abstract from his grip, and for the first time in so many months, you feel one another’s warm skin against each other. You press your forehead to his hand as you wept with him.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be a dream. I want you to be real.”

“Can’t you be bothered to clean up in here?!”

You wake up from your nap, you’ve been battling muscle and joint pain the entire day, the slightest of movement causing you to double over in agony and because of that, you weren’t able to clean the apartment today. You slowly get up from the couch, being extra cautious not to make any sudden movements. “Well?” Toji presses, his lips curled into a scowl.

“I’m sorry, I was feeling a little tired,” you sighed heavily, picking up a broom to sweep the living room floor despite the excruciating pain you were in. Toji rolls his eyes, handing you a Manila envelope. “What’s this?” you asked softly, peering inside.

“Divorce papers,” he shrugs nonchalantly. Everything stops, even the very rise and fall of your chest halts into an uneasy stasis. “I already signed them. I just need your signature then, I’ll move out by tomorrow.”

You must be dreaming. That’s the only logical explanation to all this. You’re asleep, in a deep REM sleep, utterly oblivious to the world. This wasn’t happening. But you could feel the rough surface of the brown envelope, and you could still feel the agonizing stabs of white hot pain throughout your body. Glancing at Toji, you see him texting someone with an eager look on his face that screams: “I’m free.”.

Instantly, it dawns on you.

“Will she make you happy?” you asked, putting down the broom to look around for a pen but Toji pulls one he stole from the law firm office out of his pocket.

“She will,” he answers simply.

And you are indeed grateful that he is completely upfront about finding another while the two of you are married. It would have hurt much more, you silently remind yourself, if he had just upped and left without another word leaving you to wonder what went wrong between the two of you. This was Toji’s final act of mercy in your marriage, and he’s not opposed to honesty and truthfulness either. Not once did he try to change his phone’s lock-screen passcode, nor did he try to conceal the identity of the woman who was texting him every night while you slept fitfully next to him. It was almost as if he wanted you to find out, like he wanted you to know so you could back off yourself.

But if there’s one thing Toji loves about you, it’s your unending faithfulness to your promises, to your marriage vows, and your willingness to endure anything he threw at you. You never checked his phone, you never brought up his affair, you never got angry with him. You just kept silent, simply content with giving and giving…and giving while he milked you dry by taking, and taking and taking, tearing you to pieces bit by bit without hearing a single complaint fall from your lips.

You were a devoted wife, through and through.

And it bored the hell out of him, on top of your recent mishaps, he was done. Done with everything, and done with you.

“Okay.”

Come morning, he takes everything he owns with him and promptly proposes to the girl he’s been seeing for the past year. Two weeks later, your divorce is received by the Tokyo Family Court and is summarily approved and finalized. From that moment on, you and Toji went on your separate ways never to look back, you were each other’s yesterdays, and the love that existed between the two of you was nullified in favor of acquaintanceship…or so you thought.

“Y/N, I’m home!” Toji calls into the house as he comes back from your neighborhood’s pharmacy. You look up from the book you were reading, smiling ever so slightly at your husband who seemed to have a wonderful sparkle in his eyes. “Hey, kid,” he kisses the top of your head when he reaches your wheelchair.

“You seem happy,” you remarked positively.

“Well, for one, they replenished their stocks today and I managed to get you your steroids and painkillers so you’ll be able to sleep easy tonight,” Toji smiles, taking out the items from the pharmacy’s paper bag. “And I got you this neat memory foam cushion for your wheelchair.” He fluffs it up as a form of demonstration before placing it behind your back.

When he sees you smile, a sense of relief washes over Toji. You reach towards him, and he pulls you into an embrace. “Thank you,” you said, pure sincerity dripping from your voice. “For everything you do.”

“Anything for you.” He suddenly moves back and reaches into the tote bag you lended him. “Oh, and wait, before I forget, I have another surprise.”

You laughed airily. “Another surprise? Now, you’re just spoiling me!”

He pulls out a piece of paper from the tote bag and he places it in your hands as your eyes quickly scan over the document. Your breath hitches in your throat when you realize what it is. Did Toji really—? You couldn’t believe it. “A marriage pre-registration,” you said in awe. You read it again just in case to make sure that this wasn’t a figment of your sick body’s imagination, that this was real, that Toji genuinely wants to make everything right again. Your fingers skim over your typewritten names. “It has our names…we’re really—“ You can’t even finish your sentence without bursting into happy tears. “Are we—?”

Toji nods, gazing into your eyes, and as emerald and (E/C) clash for what seems to be an eternity lost in one another, he plants a kiss to your temple, coming up to embrace you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“We are. The Tokyo Family Court, as far as I know, will approve our remarriage once we file this. So, you have to get stronger, okay?” He’s begging you at this point, despite your rapidly deteriorating condition. “Strong enough to see me fix everything. Strong enough to be there on our second wedding, strong enough to say our vows again.”

Your hand comes up to stroke his cheek from behind, and he nuzzles into your neck at your tender touch.

“I will. I promise.”

But you never really get to say your vows. Not comprehensibly anyway.

“Babe, can you say that again?”

Toji crouches by your bedside as you look at him apologetically. You were causing him trouble and pain again which is the last thing that you want to give him especially when’s fought and worked so hard to care for you, to keep prolonging this borrowed time you’re on. “To-ji. Toji.” You gaze at him apprehensibly, not really believing you can do it without crumbling.

“Come on, babe, you can do it. Say my name, please…Toji. I’m Toji.”

“Toooji-“ you slurred sadly. At this point, your Multiple Sclerosis has reached its end stage and has taken…everything from you: your ability to walk, your ability to control your muscle spasms and other bodily functions…and now, coupled with an unexpected stroke, your ability to speak. And you and Toji know that time is almost up, with you having come to accept it, while your husband still held onto hope. Your fingers gently graze over his face as best as your spasms and tremors allow you, starting from his forehead to his eyes, his nose, his cheek and finally, his lips, as if you’re memorizing it one last time. “Lo-ove you-“

Toji sniffles, and your fingers instinctively catch his warm tears. “I love you,” he whispers brokenly. “I do. I love you.”

You feel yourself tearing up as you’re forced to watch your beloved cry. And the worst part? You can’t do a thing about it. “D-oon’t c-cry—‘m okaay. Promi-miise…e’everyything ‘ill be okaaay.”

“Y-yeah,” he chuckles, trying to crack a joke even as hope dwindles. “You’ve been nothing but a fucking champ this entire time, you know? I’m so proud of you. So…so…proud that you’re still here.” He strokes your hair as you tread between the realms of the conscious and the unconscious. “Do you wanna go out today? The weather’s shit though. You’ll probably catch your death out there.” At the mention of the word ‘death’, Toji stops, falling into an uncomfortable silence.

You smile weakly at him. “Tiiredd—“

“You’re no fun,” Toji gently flicks your nose and you scrunch it up in displeasure. “Sorry,” he chuckles, holding back an entire waterfall of tears. He knows it’s today. It has to be. You woke up today without your usual ‘happy morning’ greeting, and you refused to drink anything, much less eat anything. “You tired? Any pain?”

You shake your head. You’re as comfortable as you can be for the first time in months. Hospice nurses say humans are built to live the same way they are built to die, no person in this world has ever had the uncanny privilege of being able to look up ‘How to die?’ on a quick Google search and actually find a Wikihow on the morbid subject matter, nor is there anyone else who can teach another how it’s done. It’s just something humans know how to do without a manual, deeply ingrained in the very fabric of human existence is the fear of death, the fear of what comes after, the fear of a nothingness that could follow after living such a vibrant life. Your life was short, barely spanning thirty years, but you lived well: you fell in love, you got hurt, but you fell together again. Now it all has to come to an end, Toji will just have to take care of the rest.

And you weren’t scared.

Or at least you can’t look scared, if you were to be more accurate, you have to look strong and ready to accept the cards you’ve been dealt with for Toji’s sake. When he feels your hand start to slacken, Toji intakes a sharp, shaky breath of sheer panic. “Not yet, Y/N. Please. Not yet.”

He climbs into bed with you, bringing you closer to this desperate man you call yours. There was no getting better anymore, there was no miracle he could hang onto, no deity he could beg for death to spare you, no pill bottle he could pray to. He knew that from the start. But what he witnessed these past months, you’ve been the braver one between the two of you, you knew how to make the most of the rhythm this cruel world gave you and you graciously took him along to dance to the last song of the evening with you.

“There’s still hope. Just keep your eyes open. Just keep them open.” He presses his lips to your forehead, his delusion getting the better of him. “We’ll just keep trying…you can’t leave. You have to stay. You have to.”

“Thaank yoou—“ you softly told your Toji, your voice shrinking in decibels as you become a little drowsy, sinking into the warmth of the requiem of a life well spent.

Toji listens to you, his lips pursed, intent on making this final act of love — a love that is strong enough to say goodbye — a memorable one. And should the afterlife exist, he wishes to send you off with a smile, with the reassurance that he’ll be alright even if that was far from happening.

“Toji.”

“I want you to be real. And I don’t care if we’ll live on borrowed time. Another extra second with you…is enough to last me my entire lifetime.”

[rviellvs]

His new wife ; toji fushiguro [05]

Genre: angst

a/n: here comes to an end of a love. bittersweet, and a little tragic.

part one ; part two ; part three ; part four

[his whole life]

“I’m sorry, please forgive me. I’m sorry. It’s all m-my fault, please… please be angry at me, please scold me because I’m the one who caused this…! Please do anything to relieve your anger on me- please, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry that I just have to kill her-”

“Oh my, oh my…” Her mother kneeled on the floor, the small figure of Megumi was hugged tightly in her embrace, so tight that Megumi couldn’t utter a word but muffling his sobs to her shoulder.

This was a hug from his grandmother, the mother of his mother. It all made sense how she became such a warm person, she inherited it from this woman in front of him.

Keep reading

[rviellvs]

Way Back Home

Pairing: Toji x Reader

Genre: heavy angst

Warnings: death, mentions of cheating, mentions of illness, suicide attempt, suggestive smut

Part I: Home | Part II: A Letter From Home | Part III: Way Back Home

Reincarnation: Dodging a Bullet

“It feels like I have loved you before…”

Getting off from work was always Toji’s favorite part of the day. Well, it’s everyone’s favorite part. Coming home, bed, and sleep seems so tempting when you get up at 7 am to go to work at 9 am. But to Toji, nothing’s as inviting as her.

Keep reading

[rviellvs]

sukuna doing your grwm voiceover | f. reader, s/h prns., crack 'n fluff, estb. rl ؛ ଓ

the mic is a cheap little thing—one of those clip-ons with a long cord and a half-broken clip that you swore was “totally fine for tiktok.” it’s taped to the desk lamp now, swaying slightly as sukuna leans back in your pink gaming chair, arms crossed over his chest like it might keep the cringe away. the video is on mute.

thank god. he would’ve walked out if he had to listen to your chipper little intro and do this dumbass voice-over. but he stays—grumbling, snarling under his breath, but he stays.

“ugh. fine,” he mutters as he hits record, voice low and already irritated. “hi. ’m narratin' her dumbass makeup thing. let’s get this over with.”

the video starts with you holding up your moisturizer to the camera like it’s a sacred relic. sukuna squints at the label.

“this one’s got... snail slime or some shit. don’t ask me. she swears by it. uses exactly three pumps, like a goddamn ritual. see? one, two... three. mmhmm. told you.”

he clicks his tongue when the next product flashes onscreen. your sunscreen.

“this one’s white as hell when it goes on. looks like a clown for a sec. she always pats it in too fast—like she’s in a race. it dries down okay, i guess. not that i notice. or care.”

he very much notices. always does. he sits on the bed pretending to scroll while you do this routine every morning. he's watched it with the intensity of a warrior memorizing enemy patterns.

now comes the concealer. the applicator dabs under your eyes with practiced precision.

“yeah. this part. five dots under each eye. exactly five. you miss one, she wipes the whole thing off like the world’s ending. don’t know why she bothers—looks good without all this crap anyway.”

he pauses.

“…not that i say that out loud.”

the beauty blender makes its entrance and sukuna actually groans.

“this sponge. she squeezes it before every use like it’s stress relief. and then she taps. forever. for e-ver. just... tap tap tap like an annoying little woodpecker.”

he mimics the sound with his fingers on the desk—tap, tap, tap—lazily, almost fondly.

your bronzer palette appears, slightly cracked in the corner. he narrows his eyes.

“this thing’s been through hell. she won’t throw it away. i offered to buy her a new one and she called me ‘sweet’ like i wasn’t trying to end this makeup horror show. anyway, she goes light-handed here. no muddy cheeks. she’s precise. annoying, but precise.”

his gaze flicks to the lipstick you picked—a soft, bitten pink.

“her favorite,” he says a little too quickly, a little too softly. then he clears his throat like the sentiment offended him. “whatever. next.”

the video ends with you posing for the camera, smiling. sukuna stares for a second too long. you’d edited a heart transition, too—sparkly pink.

“gross,” he mutters.

he clicks the mic off and pushes back from the desk like it burned him. “we done? finally?”

you post it anyway. mostly because the internet doesn’t deserve to be spared this kind of comedy gold. and overnight, the comments blow up. thirsting. begging. 

"i'd pay to listen to him read an audiobook."  "who is he and where can i sign up for the cult??"  "he sounds like he could ruin my life and i'd say thanks afterwards."

sukuna glares at the screen the next morning, cracking his knuckles like he’s ready to teleport into the comments section and throw hands.

“who the hell is sexyslut69 and why do they want me to whisper them affirmations?” he growls. “block ‘em. block all of ‘em.”

you laugh. he doesn’t. but when you offer to film another one, he grumbles a “tch” and sits back down in your chair.

“fine. but next time, you're using the expensive mic. and none of that heart bullshit at the end. i'm not doing that sparkly shit again.”

pause.

“…and do not let them think i’m for sale, you hear me? i’m yours. yours.”

[rviellvs]

Frat Boy!Gojo

Still water: got all I need

Word Count: 7.7k Contents: final part, angsty at multiple parts, cursing, chaos breaks out, happy ending, lots of bickering and arguing, they're really annoying actually, smut, 18+, mdni, barely proofread Find previous parts and a whole college au world here

You sigh. 

You didn’t sleep at all and it’s showing — complaining incessantly, your mother points out everything wrong about the way you look to anyone who’ll listen. What feels like a hundred people pile into your room in the Zenin manor: makeup artists, stylists, assistants, PR managers, and maids. All dedicated to making you the perfect Zenin bride. 

Which apparently means waxing you raw, detangling your hair until you’re sure you’ve got more bald spots than locks, spraying you down with every perfume known to man, creating an ungodly cloud of the most nauseating particles of air that brings tears to your eyes, and critiquing everything about your appearance. 

Wrangled here, pushed and pulled there, ‘look up here’ and ‘don’t look there,’ your head’s on a swivel. You’ve lost all control of your limbs and can only rely on the strings that keep you tethered to a reality you no longer recognise. 

Their clattering is driving you mad, but you bite your tongue. You don’t want to give them a reason to torture you on purpose. 

One minute you’re engaged to someone you thought you’d never be able to tolerate, then he turns out to be…alright, and the next you’re a free woman because he can’t stand you, and now you’re back to where you started. 

The universe must be having a grand old time. 

Good for her. 

Far removed from the planning, you can do nothing but sit back and watch everything construct itself before your eyes. The flowers they’ve chosen are the purest white lilies; they better resemble funerial flowers than marital. You don’t say a thing. On a rack, your dress hangs — it’s simple, quite pretty, actually. It’s somewhat eggshell white, long satin, not form fitting. Classic, elegant and chic. Totally not your style.

You know, without needing to ask, that he chose it. Yet another thing to mock and taunt you with. 

Father nowhere in sight, as usual, you’re stuck with your mother. She hasn’t spoken to you since yesterday, her drunken stupor gone, likely to make herself look presentable to the Zenins. 

The first couple hours in the morning had been spent trying to catch her eye all while you’re being groomed, hoping she’ll see the absurdity of this farce, that some kind of maternal instinct will click and she’ll whisk you away. Of course, none of that happens but one can daydream. Not like you have a prince charming on a white horse waiting to strike. 

She wasn’t always like this. You recall some time, long ago, deep in your childhood, when she’d sing lullabies and rock you to sleep, hiding you behind her legs when scary men would stare too long at parties, and sneaking you candy. Somewhere amidst the pressure to run the family business and estate while her husband did as he pleased must have erased it all. Perhaps, when you’re older and you have your own children too, you’ll resent them for the sins of their father too. 

No. 

Never.

“What should we do with her makeup?” A flamboyant man in purple pantsuits asks.

Manicures being carefully done, your mother looks up, red lips curling up into sharp points, and eyes staring straight through you. “Get rid of it. All of it. Make her look like someone worth marrying.”

Great. 

——————

“Are you sure about this?” She asks. 

Gojo shrugs. “No, but it’s the only idea we’ve got so, let’s just go for it.”

His friends share a look, unsure and slightly concerned. When he gets into these moods, where he’s hyper-focused, undeterred, and determined, they know better than to try and talk sense to him. It’s proven impossible before. Still, they’ve never seen him look quite so…terrifying.

Sporting a sharp glint in his eyes, he eyes the door, locked from inside. Barely restrained tension runs through his body, keeping him ready to pounce at any moment, fists clenching and unclenching. He’s not even wearing his sunglasses. At the present moment, they’re hiding behind a bush, looking out for security guards which patrol the surrounding area. The cathedral stands silent, deceptively so — inside, they know, are a whole congregation of Eden’s elites. The Gojo clan have not been extended an invitation. In fact, apart from those directly invited by the Zenins, no one even knows what abomination is happening inside. 

“Where did you even get these things?” Suguru lifts the lapel of his suit with mild disgust, finding the polyester itchy on his precious skin, no doubt. 

“Fushiguro.”

The girl makes some undignified noise. “Fushiguro? The guy who has a vendetta against you for no reason?”

Ducking with experienced speed, they all hide in the shrubbery as a guard makes his rounds. A second passes. And another. Then three heads peek back up again, all staring at the door at the back of the cathedral, where the vines grow thicker, zigzagging wildly. 

Gojo argues, “He doesn’t have a vendetta against me. He’s helping me actually. I kinda know a secret of his — occupational hazard as the Gojo heir or whatever — and I was gonna blackmail him into helping but weirdly, he was totally on board. Said something about ���payback’ and ‘anything to fuck some bitches up’ — not that I use such a derogatory term, by the way, I am an ally for wome—“

He earns a smack on the head. 

“Ouch! Okay, yeah, as I was saying, he said he has connections inside and to wait here.”

They share a glance again. Hesitantly, the more nervous of the three asks, “And you’re sure you can trust him? That he’s not gonna fuck you over?”

“No,” he answers truthfully, “but I have no choice. This has to work. It just has to.”

When a couple more minutes passes and time starts ticking closer and closer to the edge of no going back, both friends’ doubts double. Early in the day, when the white-haired man sent the group chat a message saying, EMERGENCY EMERGENCY CODE RED BUT NOT FOR SHARK WEEK, they both thought, ‘what now?’

Maybe he wanted to dye the school fountain red again or steal another university’s mascot. They’d have preferred that actually, instead of pissing off one of the most powerful families in the country. Usually, their crimes involved being in the dead of the night, fuelled by burning alcohol and a youthful lack of shame, but right now, as the sun has only begun to set and there’s hundreds of people inside the place they’re looking to break into, they think they might have finally bitten off more than they can chew. 

“Satoru, maybe we sho—“

“Look!”

The door creaks open. A little boy in a sharp suit steps out, looking left and then right before waving straight at them. A second passes and yet another. They’re stuck, frozen, in their spot, unsure of what to make of the scene. 

Suguru whispers, “Is that…Fushiguro’s son?”

Beckoning them over, the boy makes a frustrated noise; they’re taking too long. A guard is about to round the corner. They need to make it inside and they need to do it now. Gojo surges forward. They follow. 

The door clicks. 

“Oh, fuck.” The girl pants. “I’m too sober for this.”

“Agreed,” the long-haired man says. 

Deaf to their expressions of concern, Gojo surveys the area: it’s a tight space at the foot of a winding staircase made of stone with cobwebs in the corners and dust settling on all surfaces. It’s dark, lit up only by the sunlight peering through the slits on the wall. If he was to hazard a guess, and he must insist it really is just a guess since he knows nothing about architecture and history, it could be a super-secret passageway for like monks and stuff.

“You guys should go.” All eyes fall down to the little boy with a flat expression. He doesn’t look perturbed at all at the prospect and reality of having just helped some college kids crash a wedding. “They’ve already started.”

Suguru nods. “Alright. I’ll go left, you go right and Satoru...tone down the theatrics as much as you can, will you?”

His friend waves him off and he sighs. 

“I’ll text everyone to stand by and on your count, we’ll attack,” the girl says. “I can’t wait to tell my boyfriend all about this. He’s gonna have a heart attack.”

Filing out, sucking in their stomachs and stretching as thin as they can to make it through the rickety wooden door and properly inside the cathedral, they anxiously go through the plan in their heads, but not before Gojo can the last word in. “What’s your name, little dude?”

“Megumi.”

He smiles. “Thanks, Megumi. Tell your brother thanks too. Coolest siblings I know for sure.”

A little shy suddenly, the boy huffs his chest out, attempting to stand taller in his perfectly fitted suit, shiny shoes, and untamed hair. “Yeah, we are.”

And off Gojo went, dressed similarly and with a plan he’ll kill to see through.

——————

There are so many eyes on you. On any other day, you’d shake it off; you’re used to it after all. But, today’s not like any other day, and you can’t hide behind your expressive fashion. Now, you’ve been stripped bare and polished all pretty and palatable for a man who stands beside you, cold as ice but carrying a hellish heat that’s threatening to send shivers up your spine.

None of the guests here are friendly faces. Most are familiar, having met them through those stupid galas and balls, but they don’t know you. Probably couldn’t even say your name. No, of course not, because they’re not here for you, they’re here for him. For his family and the name he bears. The name you will soon carry on you like a festering brand. 

And as the priest rattles on through centuries of tradition and your dark future awaits you, all you can think about is, would it have been better or worse to have seen Gojo sitting amongst the crowd?

It doesn’t matter, really. You barely knew the guy. He was just that person you had to learn to tolerate to maintain your sanity and soon, he’ll be the guy you once knew, the guy you think about here and there as you send your children off to school and kiss your husband goodbye.

“Smile,” Naoya commands through gritted teeth. “You look like you’ve been kidnapped.”

You fire back, “I was.”

If the priest heard that, he gives no indication. Instead, he continues his spiel and avoids your eye. So, seeking sanctuary is a no go. 

“And should anyone present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Eyes rolling before you can help yourself, you remark how stupid the tradition is. What even is the point? Does anyone ever actually object to—

“I object!”

Your head spins back so fast you almost give yourself whiplash. You know that voice. There’s no one else in the world with such a grating, fiendishly arrogant timbre. He’s there, at the very back of the cathedral, standing by the massive double doors, and dressed in a waiter’s uniform?

A round of gasps make waves around the great hall, shocked and horrified. If anyone had been dozing off, they’re surely awake now. Hell so are you. 

Heart beating fast, you can’t grasp that he’s really here. He came. For you. But he didn’t want anything to do with you. He made that abundantly clear. Still, he’s grinning right at you, looking at no one else, not even when they whisper his name like some kind of curse.

“A holy matrimony’s the last thing my girl wants; she’s a devil worshipper, your honour. So, unless there’s a goat sacrifice, she won’t be very happy.”

Naoya hisses. “How did that filthy Gojo get here? Security!”

Tall, muscular men who had been hiding in the shadows come out into the light, all eyes on the interloper. They’re going to kill him. They’ll actually kill him. 

“Aw, Nao Nao, you think you’re the only one with an army of men? Dude, I’m a frat president. The overwhelming stench of testosterone is all I know.”

And at his cue, doors to the side, and the doors behind him, open. 

Flashes of skin, roars of excitement, whooshing blow of air brushing past you. A huge crowd of men and women rush in. They hoot. They cheer. Whoop and shout and yell. They run through the aisle, in just their underwear, carrying buckets of water and sponges. No one expects their designer, bespoke clothes to be drenched in soapy water. Just as no one expects college kids to give them lap dances, covering them in confetti and boa scarves.

Chaos breaks out faster than you can process. 

Screams resound. Everyone’s shouting and clambering in all directions. A flurry of panic fills the holy grounds. They reach you, bumping and grinding and laughing. You’re lost. You can’t see past shiny chests. 

Deafening music plays on rogue speakers, blasting from all angles. It dulls your senses – you can barely tell who’s who, but it feels like the entire Eden Uni student population has crashed in like a tsunami. Frats and sororities merge indiscriminately, throwing each other around, ripping the flowers decorating the aisle up and tossing them in the air. The school mascot, a chicken is on the altar, pecking at the priest. 

The guests have been blocked in. Women are being twirled by younger, muscular boys. The men are being touched up by much younger girls and don’t seem to be complaining. Everyone’s dancing and singing, carried by the high of doing something they know is wrong in the worst place to be doing it in. 

It’s the kind of euphoria you’ve missed.

Water is splashing all over your white gown, soaking you through. The cathedral has turned into a waterpark and a nightclub at all once. Arms are reaching, touching, pushing and pulling. You’re being swept along with no destination in sight. Breathless, reeling and lightheaded, you let the crowd swallow you.

Laughing. 

You see Naoya through slivers between bodies. He’s outraged. You laugh harder. There are soap suds in his hair and suit. Attempts to stomp over to you are curbed by hormonal frat guys grinding on his body and pulling at his clothes. From personal experience, you know they can be real annoying to deal with. They’re persistent and they use their charms to get their way. It’s how they always fill their charity quota so easily.

Goodbye asshole.

Solid arms tug you back. You fall onto a firm chest. A dizzying scent fills your nostrils.

“Hey, baby.” An annoying voice whispers in your ear. “Wanna be the Wednesday to my Pugsley?”

You’re speechless, veering off course and truly discombobulated. He’s here. He’s actually here. Staggering back with him, you let him lead you through the crowd. Naoya gets further and further away. He’ll never get to you. “They’re siblings, you idiot.”

Gojo laughs, loud and intoxicating. “Yeah, I know. Was just testing you. Passed with flying colours, by the way. Missed me?”

“No, I barely even remember who you are.”

“Oh, now you’re just trying to get me hard.”

And then you’re out, feeling the warm embrace of the sun. 

The churchyard is just as busy and bustling too. There are tons of people in beachwear dancing on tables and throwing your gifts into the air as they dance to music booming out of huge speakers on backs of cars and pickup trucks. Somehow, whilst you were in there, accepting your fate, a party had been building. 

Your wedding had gone from a metaphorical funeral to a quad party you won’t be stopping any time soon. And you finally understand why Gojo’s parties are treated like a national holiday on campus; you really wouldn’t want to miss it at all.

He spins you around. In his heavy hands, your face is held, gently. Thumbs brushing your cheeks, bright blue eyes search yours. There’s a softness to his gaze when he scans your entire body. “Aw, baby, look what they did to you.”

“Don’t I look better now?”

It’s unbelievable how easily you find it in yourself to speak so clearly, to tease and prod even when you feel like you had just faced death and had barely escaped its clutch. 

Leaning in close, his nose skims yours. Eyes flutter shut and he takes a deep breath, hold on you tightening with a concerning quiver. “No. I like my girl terrifying and looking like she just put a curse on me.”

“I’m surprised you even recognised me.” Truly, you’re unrecognisable. Even your mother had paused when she took her first look at you with all your makeup, lace, and piercings gone. It was as if she was looking at her little girl again and it didn’t matter at all.

Gojo’s lips touch yours. He’s not kissing you. He’s just touching, feeling, absorbing the moment. “‘course I recognised you. Are you crazy? How could I ever forget those eyes? They’ve traumatised me so much I get nightmares.”

You stand on your tiptoes, chasing his lips. “Asshole.”

His hand travels to the back of your head, holding you still.

“Witch.” So close...just one tiny push and you’ll kiss him. He knows it too. Knows how easy it’d be to taste you on his lips, and he hopes you don’t hear the pounding of his chest. “You want this too, right? It’s not just me?”

“Hmm, I do.”

“Y/n!” 

Through the thunderous music, you hear your mother’s voice call out. She’s standing at the threshold, over the crowd, glaring right at you. She’s drenched from head to toe. There’s a look of complete and utter devastation on her face, marred with an anger you’ve become so familiar with you hardly notice it over the desperate pleading in her eyes. She’s aged a lot. 

Walking forward, she’s weaving straight for you, manicured hands reaching and reaching. “Don’t do this. Don’t be so selfish! Y-you can still marry the Zenin boy. Think of our family! We’ll be broken without his money.”

Pressing close, you feel his presence, supportive and resolute. It’s what gives you the power to finally meet her stare after years of looking away, of cowering, running. 

“Our family was broken a long time ago, Mother. And it’s never been my fault.”

Then you turn and never look back.

——————

“Okay, wait, wait. You actually snuck in dressed as servers?”

You’re both sat on the swing set, just rocking back and forth, watching the night sky. The cold breeze is refreshing, and you can’t get enough of it. Fairy lights on and warm, it’s just you two, hidden away deep in the woods behind the cathedral. In fact, you’re so far away, you can’t even hear the distant thrum of music. Whether the party is still going on or if the police had been called, you don’t know and you don’t really care to ask. 

“Yeah,” Gojo admits with a proud laugh. “I was by the cloak room waiting for my cue and pretending that I was keeping guard.”

He’s wearing a white shirt under a black vest, tailored trousers and loafers. Truly looking the part of ‘help’ and somehow making it look good, he’s rolled up the sleeves, revealing toned arms and pristine skin. 

Laughing, you ask, “How long have you been wanting to do the whole ‘I object’ thing? Be honest.”

“Oh, like since forever. I wanted to so bad I’ve been contemplating crashing a random wedding just to do it.”

Knowing him, he’s not lying or exaggerating at all. In fact, it’s so him you can’t help but throw your head back and laugh even more. “Okay, so you’re totally welcome then.”

“Yeah, thanks, but don’t do that again. I don’t think I have it in me to pull something like that off again.”

“Somehow, I doubt that.”

Abruptly standing up, he comes to you and extends his hand. Smiling down at you with no hint of mischief whatsoever and with the tips of his ears ever so slightly pink, you note how young he suddenly looks. He just looks like a boy staring at a girl hoping she won’t slap his hand away. You take it without thinking and you’re whisked up and away. Swaying you to an inaudible music, he grips you close. Even though the night’s a little chilly, you don’t really feel the cold, not when he’s shielding you from it like he can’t stand the thought of anyone but him touching you. 

Things had changed so fast in the last day and a half, turning your life into a rollercoaster you thought you’d never be able to get off. Still, you persevered, a true fighter. You allow yourself that one moment of pride. 

Basking in his warmth and his scent washes away the remaining fears of your past catching up to you. On your way here, he had conspiratorially whispered that his family will take care of the Zenins, that their clan head owes them a favour and Naoya can’t do a single thing about it. 

And though you’re no longer tied to that Zenin and you’re with Gojo again, you know things have been done that could never be undone. You’ve lost your family. Both literally and metaphorically.

Tenderly, he asks, “Did he...did he touch you?”

“No. But he killed my friend,” you confess. 

Gojo stills for a second before he continues swaying you, head resting on yours so he can lay a gentle kiss. Muttering against your hair, he says, “I’m sorry. Really...I-I’m sorry...Tell me more about him.”

“I don’t want to ruin the moment.”

Chuckling, he whispers, “I got my girl back and she’s dancing with me under the stars. Nothing could ever ruin this.”

You hold him tight, cheek resting on his chest like as if it’s the most natural fit in the world. With just one second to gather yourself, you tell him a story. “He was the son of the groundskeeper in our home, back before our family went bankrupt because of my dad. We became friends. Best friends. Stayed that way until we were like eighteen. It was weird to meet someone so understanding, so similar, so you, but I knew I’d do anything for him from the very first moment I met him.”

“If he’s anything like you, he must have been very special.”

“The most special,” you admit. Then, you look up. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

He gives you a sheepish smile. “Would you think less of me if I say yes?”

Unable to help yourself, you graze your teeth against his chin, finding the urge to just rip him apart overwhelming. “There’s no way I could think less of you. You’re pretty far down already.”

“Hopefully far enough to see up your dress.”

You laugh. “Let me finish my story and I’ll think about it.”

And he zips his mouth shut. 

“There was something different about him. Something that made him stand out, never fitting in, just like me. Maybe that’s why we gravitated towards each other, why we were inseparable.” Bittersweet memories flash before you, drowning you in a time long past and you’ll never get back. “He was gay, and his parents hated it. They didn’t understand. They thought they could beat it out of him. And he’d always meet me at my window, climbing up the tree, with different bruises every week. It was hard to see someone you love try and smile through their pain.”

Gojo’s hum tell his own story.

“And when we couldn’t take it anymore, when I knew that soon, there’d come a day when he just would stop turning up, I begged him to run away with me. I just wouldn’t stop pestering him. He didn’t want to; he thought it was unfair to drag me down with him or something. And though I hated my parents too, I did have it better than him, I know that. But I would have given it all away for him. And I was going to. But then…”

No longer swaying, he just keeps you tucked in his chest, waiting patiently for you to catch your breath. He doesn’t say a thing, doesn’t offer condolences, or all false promises. 

“We were driving away. We were making it out, but I got a notification on my phone. My mum was trying to reach me. And I don’t know, I felt guilty, and he must have seen it because he tried to do a U-turn and...and…I made it out alive and he was just barely there.”

For the longest time, this story, his story hadn’t been uttered to anyone. And though you did once think it’d be nice if they could meet, you wish it wasn’t under these circumstances. You wish they’d both be breathing and not severed between life and death. 

“My family was paying for his hospital fees for as long as they could, before all the money dried up and we were running on fumes trying to keep up the facade. Maybe that’s why I put up with them for so long, why I never tried to run away. That gratitude I had kept me stuck there for so long, even once a charity picked up his case and took over.”

“That sneaky old man.” He mutters under his breath but then notices your confused look and shakes his head. “Ah, I’ll tell you another day…I’m sorry about your friend. I’m sorry for what Naoya did. If I could make him pay, I would. I will.”

You chuckle. He sounds so sure you can’t help but find him absolutely adorable.

“No, he does deserve to pay but honestly, I’m relieved.” A huge part of you had always carried tremendous guilt of having put him in that position to begin with. He was destined for more and you had kept him confined to that hospital bed for your own needs, unable to let him go, to accept the truth. “His heart may have been beating but he had been gone a long time ago. Now, he’s truly at peace, I think. He’ll be happy to finally go.”

Gojo kisses your forehead. “If he’s any bit as loving as you, then I think he’d be happy you’d be able to move on. Y’know, start living your life for yourself.”

You laugh again. Loud and obnoxious, you’re sure. It startles him. 

“God, you’re so annoyingly sweet when you want to be. You’re supposed to hate me. To be disgusted that I’d been so selfish, so cowardly for so long. But instead, you’re looking at me like I hung the moon and stars.”

He tilts his head, a playful smile on those soft lips of his. “You didn’t?”

“Just kiss me, you idiot.”

And so, he does. 

He quite literally sweeps you off your feet, lifting you up so he can smother your lips with his. He tastes of sugar, of a long fight for freedom, and of youth you’ve never had. And when you’re in his arms, tongue twisting together and savouring this moment that feels like a long time coming, you can’t think about anything else other than how this is right where you belong. Your hands get buried in each other’s hair, bridging the gap until not a single atom keeps you apart. Despite how tight his clutch is, you find comfort in the reminder that he’s with you now and he’s not going to let you go. 

When you part, your lips tingle and his teeth pull your bottom lip, tugging it just to watch it bounce back into place. His hair is a mess, his lips swollen and cheeks flushed. He’s never looked more beautiful.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” he admits.

You peck him. “Did it leave up to your wet dreams?”

“Oh, you have no idea.”

You two fall onto the grass, kissing and touching and gasping. He doesn’t let your body touch the ground, taking the brunt of your weight as if you’re as light as a feather. A hand slides to the back of your dress, pulling down a zipper. 

“I hate this dress…” He breathes out. “I’d never let you wear something so plain at our wedding.”

Giggling, you indulge in the ticklish touches. “Aren’t you getting a little too ahead of yourself there, Gojo?”

He smashes your face back to his, swallowing your words like he doesn’t think it belongs on the lips he could spend eternity worshiping. “Satoru, baby. Call me Satoru.”

And now you’re both back where you left off, sending déjà vu coursing through your veins. Sitting up, away from his lips which attempt to chase you, you slide off his body, crawling back on to the grass. Gazing at you with wide eyes, he doesn’t miss a thing when you spread your legs slowly. “Promise not to cum in your pants if I do?”

“No.” He scrambles towards you. “Can’t.”

Smiling, you say, “Oh, but you must, otherwise you’ll cut this night short.”

The white-haired man grabs your ankles, rubbing warmth on your skin. Eyes never leaving yours, he removes your heels, one by one, lifting each to lay a kiss on your sole. Then, as you’re lying back, looking up at him, he asks, “You wouldn’t happen to be wearing a garter, would you? Because if you are, then I might actually cum in my pants.”

“Come and find out…Satoru.”

He dives forward, pushing through the thick heap of fabric, warm skin leaving a trail on your inner thighs and finding, hopefully, a black lace garter you had snuck on as a quiet act of rebellion. Naoya would have flipped out if he saw it, you’re sure, but it would have been worth it. No matter the price, you would have kept finding ways to keep your identity try as he might to erase it. 

“Ah, baby, you must have known I’d end up here, right? Otherwise, you wouldn’t have left a present with my name on it.”

Warm breath brushing your panties, you fight the urge to shiver. “You like my garter?”

Just as you had bitten his chin, he bites your thigh and licks up the mark quickly, soothing the skin. Your body is aching, and he isn’t even touching you where you wish he would. 

“It’s pretty and I’m keeping it for my spank bank for sure,” he promises. “But I’m talking about this.”

You gasp.

Satoru licked a stripe up your clothed slit, tongue poking at your clit. He pauses. Oh no, he must have found your real gift. So many nights spent dreaming about how it’ll shut him up to finally know where your final piercing is and the feeling of his body surging heat throughs yours doesn’t live up your imagination. 

Swimming out of the dress, his eyes, unobscured by those dark sunglasses of his, widen comically. You’re watching a blush blossom on his cheeks in real time. “You have a clit piercing!”

“I do.”

‘Oh fuck,’ is all he says before he climbs back in and pulls your panties to the side. You squeal at the sudden sensation of his long tongue exploring your pussy in a rush. Again and again, he licks and licks until he can’t get enough and begins sucking at your already twitching clit, playing with the metal bar. “Wow, I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this from me...That’s the real tragedy...”

It’s been so long and he’s so good at that, you’re nearing your climax much sooner than you’d like; his head is already massive, if he makes you cum from a couple licks you’ll never hear the end of it. 

“Did it -mhm- hurt?”

Back arching, you grip blades of grass for tether. “Y-yeah. The recovery was rough but totally worth it. I’m even more sensitive down there now.”

Two fingers worm their way inside your pussy, feeling the pleats and enjoying the gumminess of your walls. “Yeah, I can -hah- tell. You’re gushing on my fingers. I can’t get enough of you. You taste so incredible, how is that even possible? You must really be a witch...no, a fallen angel sent to damn me.”

“You’re so melodramatic,” you breathe out, hips jolting.

His arms are wrapped around your thighs, keeping them spread nice and wide for him. You’re sure he can’t breathe under your dress and with the sloppy noises he’s making, you’re not convinced he’s already decided this is how he’d like to die. “Can’t help it...pussy’s so -ha- good I want to recite p-poetry...to be or not to be and whatever.”

A hand falls onto his head over the fabric, keeping him between your legs and pressed up against your pussy. He’s playing with your piercing with his tongue, rolling it around like a fidget toy. There’s no technique to whatever he’s doing but goddamn it, it sure does feel fucking good. 

“I could spend all -hah- day eating you out.”

He’s given you an opening to tease him more. You sure as hell take it. “If you hadn’t fucked shit up by telling on our parents to the press, then you would have been well acquainted with my pussy by now.”

An embarrassed sound escapes him. “I’m sorry…I thought I ate that up. Whoops. I’ll make it up to you four though.”

“Four?”

“Yeah, you, your tits and this kitty.”

Wow, that almost dried you up. “Shut up, Satoru. Like actually. Please.”

“Okay, but can I actually spend all day eating you out? I’ll work for it.”

“You just want an -ngh! don’t suck so hard, fuck!- e-excuse not to go to classes.” You smile when he huffs against your pussy, curling those fingers against your g-spot. He’s lying flat on his stomach and without needing to look to be sure, you know he’s rutting his hips against the grass. 

He sucks hard at your clit despite your command. You cry out. “Hmm, you already -hah that’s it, ride my face- already know me so well, baby. You obsessed with me or something?”

“So obsessed I o-orchestrated a -hngh- wedding just for you to crash it.”

Obscene noises are emanating from under your skirt. He’s making out with your pussy, slurping and lapping up your juices like a man starved. “You’re so sweet to me. So so sweet. Are you gonna cum soon? You’re tightening up like you are. Come on, show me how you sound when you cum. Let me know if my imagination lives up to reality.”

Just as he says, you cum all over his face and his fingers, writhing on the grass and dirtying the wedding dress with reckless abandon. It’s possibly the best orgasm you’ve had in years or ever and you almost admit that to him but the fact that he had been able to make you cum at all is embarrassing enough that you keep all praises to yourself. 

Instead, when he comes out, a shit-eating grin on his face, and his shirt unbuttoned at the top, you tell him, “T-take your pants off and fuck me already.”

“Woah! Buy me dinner first.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m serious. Hurry up and get inside me.”

He smiles and leans down to press a kiss on the tip of your nose, smearing your wetness on your skin accidentally. Muttering an ‘oops,’ he quickly licks up the sheen before he wipes it with his hand altogether. “And I’m being serious. As much as I would love to — trust me, I’m actually kicking myself right now and this will haunt me — we can’t. I don’t have a condom on me.”

“Oh, god, I hate you.”

Slumping on top of you just to hear your sudden groan, he mumbles between the valleys of your breast, pulling your dress down to bare them to him, “Yeah, my bad, baby. I hate Satoru too.”

Just as fascinated with the piercings on your nipples, he fiddles with them like a stress toy, pulling and watching for your reaction. You bite your lip. You won’t moan for the bastard. 

Pussy still tingling, you just lie there carrying his heavy ass as he fondles your tits and introduces himself to them. You really want to get laid. You’re practically desperate for it. These past couple months have been so stressful, so disastrous, you want compensation in the form of orgasms. Damn it, he will give it to you since he caused all of this to begin with. 

“Take me back to your frat house. You must have condoms there.”

Mouth full of your breast, he says, voice muffled, “You are totally obsessed with me. Like, you’re so bossy when you’re horny.”

You smack the back of his head. “Don’t even pretend you’re not grinding your dick onto me, asshole. Take me to your frat house now before I go back to Naoya.”

His hips still. He gets up and pulls you with him. Pouty, he grouches. “Okay, so now you’ve ruined the moment.”

“I ruined the moment? Are you kidding me? You’re the one who didn’t bring a condom!”

“Well, I’m sorry, but I didn’t know there’d be sex involved in my rescue mission.”

“Don’t you dare lie to me, Satoru. You knew there would be. Why else would I keep you around?”

He gasps. “Excuse me? You’re objectifying people in this day and age? Wow! Wow wow wow. Am I just a piece of meat to you?”

“Shut. Up.” As you stomp around, stabbing his chest with your finger, he just hums and slides your dress off, lifting you up and out of the ugly thing. Now in just a thin slip, he wraps his arms around you and carries you out of your hideaway like you weigh absolutely nothing. “Admit it. Admit you forgot the condom.”

“No, I didn’t bring any because I respect you for your mind and personality. I’m not some kind of animal who’s led by her clit.”

Clutching him for warmth, you let him expertly navigate his way out of the labyrinth and into the car park. In his car, you argue the whole way. The fucker won’t admit what you both know to be the truth, settling for singing along to the pop songs on the radio. Whilst you rant about his stupidity and recklessness, finally scolding him for even getting you into this position, he just smiles and takes it all in, keeping a hand on your bare thigh and daring to rise higher. You let him finger you into another orgasm. 

Still complaining even when you two finally arrive at the frat, wolf whistled at by his exhausted brothers before you arrive at his room, you glare at him. 

It’s spacious and pretty empty, devoid of much personality unlike his childhood room. When he lays you down on the bed, pulling sticks and leaves out of your hair, he gets right back in between your legs and keeps eye contact the whole time. Though it isn’t a whole day like he wants, he does give you a couple more orgasms in two hours. 

He may be neglectful of his education, but he does not mess around with your cunt. In fact, he treats it like it’s life and death, muttering praises about how expressive she is, how tight and well-behaved. So fucking cheesy. 

“Ugh, leave her alone now. Come up here and show me what I’m working with.”

Eyes hazy and looking like he’s not all there right now, he emerges and fumbles with his pants, kicking them off to reveal his cock. Your jaw drops. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Satoru shrugs and leans down to kiss you, shoving his tongue inside so you can taste yourself. “You’re so mad, aren’t you? Gojo Satoru really does have it all, doesn’t he? Don’t be upset, babe, you’re pretty hot yourself.”

Of course! Of course, his dick would be big. Long and thick, he keeps it clean down there, baring the long veins that wrap around his impressive length and reaching his pretty pink tip which aggressively leaks precum. Firmly, you say, “That’s not gonna fit inside me at all.”

He hums, sucking marks on your neck, collarbone and on your breasts. “You can take it. My girl can do anything.”

“Ah, fuck it.”

To be with him like this, all warm and safe from everyone that’s tried to control you two, feels like heaven in the most sinful way. You’re being engulfed by his scent and his body, stronger and more muscular than you ever thought it could be. The way he touches you, greedy but careful, as if he’s just been presented with the most tempting feast he could dream of is driving you wild. 

Pulling him up for a kiss, you give yourself up to the overwhelming urge to consume him. He’s yours. He always has been and always will be. You don’t know how the future will go but that’s how it feels in the moment and it’s more than you could ever ask for. 

“How do you want me?” You ask, leaning up on your elbows, ready to get into any position he wants. 

Satoru’s smile is so sheepish and simultaneously shameless, it makes you sigh – it’s the kind of smile that tells you he knows what he’s about to say is incredibly idiotic, but he means every word of it. And you’re just as idiotic, you think, because you actually want to hear him out. “Just as you are.” 

“Ugh, I hate you.” You slump back down on the bed, staring up at ceiling and wondering how you’re going to put up with him for the foreseeable future.

Swallowing your complaints with his lips, he and quips, “If this is how good you taste when you hate me, I can’t wait for you to sit on my face when you’re in love with me.”

“Never gonna happen.”

“Hmm, never say never, baby. I think you’ll find I can be quite persuasive.”

Honestly, you should be scared; he really is persuasive. You’ve learnt in the past few months that when Satoru wants something, he gets it. And right now, he looks so hell bent on winning this bet you’ve raised he looks like he’s casting a spell on your pussy with his dick as he rubs the length along your slit, getting it wet before he grabs a condom from his bedside drawer. In true frat guy fashion, he’s putting on the ultra-thin ones and you’re also not surprised to see that they’re strawberry flavoured. 

Sensing the judgement in your eyes, he chuckles, forehead meeting yours. Held up by his forearms, you notice the quiver in them. “Pinch me. Please. I have to know this is real, that you’re mine.”

You whisper, running your hands through his hair and listening to him purr, “I’m yours, Satoru. I’m not going anywhere. So...hurry up and fuck me before I dry up.”

His laugh is so unbridled, so obnoxious and loud it brings you to laughter too. 

“Hey...y’know, you’ve bewitched me, body and soul...I’ll follow you the depths of hell.” He confesses, angling his hips so his cock head is right at your entrance, teasing and prodding. “Remember that because you’re gonna be so mad when I tell you I did forget. Whoopsy.”

“I fucking knew it—AH! FUCK!”

In one smooth thrust, he’s forced himself inside you. Your walls squeeze, pulsing, desperate to acclimatise to his cock. He’s hitting all your sensitive spots, filling you up so good it’s like he’s shoved all the air out of you, occupying your lungs. Eyes roll back, jaw hanging low. 

“Yeah, my b-bad, baby. Just let me -oh, you feel so good- a-apologise, yeah? I’ll make you forget all the things I did wrong.” Pace steady, he works his cock in and out, swivelling his pelvis against yours every time he bottoms out, enjoying the feel of your cold clit piercing on his skin. 

You moan. “I highly fucking doubt that. You’ll probably just keep fucking up again and again anyways.”

He smiles. 

“Probably, but I’ll never s-stop trying to apologise. Now, quit being so -hah- tight; I’m gonna cum early.”

The headboard is rattling against the wall with his increasing speed. Uncaring about how noisy you two are — with the slapping of skin, the dirty squelches, the long moans and grunts – he continues fucking you like there’s no one else in the house than you two. His face is tucked in your neck, swallowing your sweet smell; he can’t get enough of it. Of you. Back muscles shifting and hard under your touch, you run your nails through his pale skin, desperate to leave your mark on him, to make him yours in all the ways you can. 

“Don’t -ah! right there, S’toru- act like that’s not normal for you.”

He flicks your nipple piercing, huffing in tense amusement when you gasp, before engulfing the bouncing thing with his large hands, fingers digging into the fat. “We’ll see -ngh- who cums before who, M-morticia.”

“Yeah, Gomez?”

You swear he throbs inside you. 

“C-can I walk you to class, baby? Maybe I s-should change courses. I -oh, fuck, you’re incredible- I want to be with you all the time. I think I’m going absolutely, totally crazy.”

Legs locking behind his hips, ankles digging into his ass to keep him deep inside you, you mouth kisses into every inch of skin you can reach, inhaling his scent too. It’s so clean, so light and heavenly, you feel it go straight to your clit. “S-sure, follow me -ah!-wherever. I’ll keep you around, let you -ngh! I’m close, keep going, just like that—I’ll let you sit on my lap and do -hah shit- tricks for me. Don’t that sound fun, Toru?”

Yeah, he definitely just grew bigger inside of you. 

“Ruff! Ruff!”

Your laugh comes out broken, punctuated by dizzying moans. “God, you’re so stupid.”

He laughs too. “No, you.”

Even as he fills you up with his searing cum and you both lose yourself in the pleasure of finally being together in a way you worried you’d never get to be, you argue back and forth, pushing each other’s buttons, mocking and taunting. And it doesn’t ever really stop. 

Not then, not the next day, or the next week, month, or years after. 

And neither you nor Satoru’s ever look back.

[rviellvs]

Dopamine

pairing: jackson wang x fem!reader warnings: swearing, suggestive dialogue, angst, comfort, aftercare. smut: oral (m and f receiving), fingering, soft dom!jackson, usage of “daddy”, praise kink. kinda turned into mostly porn w/no plot - sry not sry. MDNI, 18+ only

word count: 3.1k

synopsis: the pressure of his new album was getting to him, and the only thing that would calm his frayed nerves was getting a hit of dopamine; precious time with you. note: trying something new here, so please bear with me while i get my footing. my initial thought was to write one-shots loosely based off of some of the lyrics in jackson's songs that inspire me. however, in falling down the rabbit hole that is pinterest, i have seen so many other pictures of him that are possibly making me want to write other versions of him (husband!jackson? dad!jackson?) not quite sure yet, but i am happy to hear any/all suggestions if you have them! as always, thx for reading :)

Masterlist

Sometime after midnight, you were curled up on the couch, unintentionally passed out while the television screen played some trashy reality show you’d fallen asleep to.  

The work week had already been draining, and so after two glasses of red wine and some greasy take out, all you wanted to do was turn your brain off.  So much so, you turned off all of the lights in your apartment before collapsing onto the sofa, and shut down your phone.

A few soft, methodical knocks rapped on your front door not far from the living area.  Blinking your eyes open slowly, you looked around the room in a daze trying to refamiliarize yourself with where you were when your attention fell back on the quiet noise.  

Pushing yourself up lazily from the couch, you adjusted your sleep shorts and tugged down your oversized hoodie as you meandered to the door.

With a quick peek through the peephole, you were surprised to see the visitor just outside.  Opening the door quickly, your eyes fell on the slumped over figure of your boyfriend, Jackson, leaning against the doorframe.  “Hey…” you murmured quietly, furrowing your brows at the state of him.

Wearing his signature baggy black jeans, black hoodie pulled over his messy hair and chunky black boots, you could barely see his eyes due to the shadow of the hood over them.

“Baby, what are you doing here so late?  What time is it anyway?”  Your voice was soft, gingerly reaching out to him to pull him inside your apartment.

“Almost 1 AM, sorry, you weren’t answering your phone…” he mumbled, shuffling his feet inside before kicking off his shoes and pulling his hood back.  “I just needed to be with you.”

“I… I turned my phone off, I’m the one who is sorry.  Didn’t mean to cut you out too,” you apologized, shutting the door softly behind you.

Taking a few steps forward, Jackson lifted his arms to slump around you, burrowing his nose into your neck, breathing you in.  Feeling the weight he was carrying, your arms wrapped comfortingly around his midsection.  

“Are you ok…?”  you whispered into his ear, placing a soft kiss to his temple.

“Yeah… no… I don’t know.  Lately I’m so caught up in the moment that I’m forgetting the big picture I think.”  He paused, pulling back a little bit to press his forehead against yours with a heavy sigh.  “There's so much in my head, can't put it down.”

“Pretty substantial stuff for so late on a Wednesday night,” you tried to tease quietly.  Pressing your lips to the tip of his nose, “why don’t you go sit on the couch and I’ll make you some tea?”

Jackson finally lifted his head, making his first real attempt at eye contact with you since he walked in.  “There’s just too much on my chest…” 

You placed a comforting palm above his heart, nodding empathetically.  “Go sit down, baby.”

Turning around, he made his way over to the sofa and leaned back against the cushions, tipping his head against the back while shutting his eyes.  

A few minutes later, you came over to sit beside him, handing him a warm mug of green tea.  Shifting his eyes back to you, he took the beverage gratefully and took a slow sip before placing it on the coffee table.

Snaking one of your arms around his shoulder, you softly began kneading at his muscles, trying to relax him quietly.  

Dipping his head forward with his eyes closed, he sighed gratifyingly, mumbling something about shoulders tight.

“Tell me what’s going on, what’s got you so stressed out?”  

“I think it’s the new album, there’s a lot of pressure to get it right.  And my team is insistent that I am out there promoting almost every fucking day…” Jackson said, shifting to lean his back against you, silently encouraging you to continue rubbing his shoulders.  

“Everything just feels like it’s getting heavy, and I’m not seeing anyone turn on the light at the end of the tunnel…”

Your deft fingers continued to caress his fatigued upper body, pressure changing from light touches to firmer strokes up the column of his neck.

“The initial reactions to Buck are positive though, right?”  You murmured quietly, trying to keep the level of your voice calming to match the rhythmic motions of your hands.

“Gratefully,” Jackson agreed, sighing deeply to the feeling of your careful ministrations.  

“Be kind to yourself, there’s a lot going on right now and I know it’s got to be so draining but you have to take care of yourself too.”  With his head resting back against your shoulder, you placed a feather-light kiss to the top of his hair.

Reaching for one of your hands, Jackson pulled it down to kiss the back of your hand softly before resting it flat on his chest.  “Truthfully, I’m here because I was craving some of your care…”

“Oh yeah?”  You playfully questioned, curling your fingers into the fabric of his shirt beneath your hand.

Craning to look back up at you, a mischievous glint in his eye becoming apparent in his dark, weary face.  “I need a little smoothing out the rough…”

“That so?”  Fingernails dragging slowly across his chest, applying just enough pressure to cause his breath to hitch.

Jackson sat up again, moving his back to lean against the couch cushions as he reached out for you, hands gripping your waist in an attempt to coax you into his lap. 

“...I want relief I know only you can provide,” he murmured, ghosting his breath over your wanting, parted lips.

“I want to feel your touch…” Jackson whispered against your neck, his hands digging into your thighs as he began rocking you against his growing arousal below you, achingly slow. “I want release…” 

With your eyes pinched shut and your head tipped back, you exhaled the sweetest moan as he began trailing the tip of his tongue down the side of your throat.  “Jacks…” you whimpered breathlessly, arms wrapped around his shoulders.

One of his hands meandered its way up your back, up to the base of your scalp where his lean digits curled your hair into a makeshift ponytail and gave it a commanding, possessive tug. 

With even more of your neck now exposed to him, he sucked at your heated flesh, leaving a deep rouge bruise in his wake, eliciting another desperate whine from you.

The air between you was thick, heady with anticipation and each touch ignited a heated spark between you.  “Fuck, I love when you beg for me…” Jackson groaned, nuzzling into you as both of his hands dropped to the bottom of your hoodie, inching it up your otherwise bare hips and waist.

“The noises you make are intoxicating,” he continued, his calloused palm creeping up enough to cup your now exposed breast.  “...you’re like a damn drug, one I can’t get enough of.”  His expert fingers lightly rolled over your nipple, causing it to harden instinctively under his careful touch.

“It’s like my body just knew where to go to get a fix…” he murmured, dotting kisses along your jaw, up to your mouth, finally melting his lips against yours in a slow, all-consuming manner.  “I came here to get some dopamine,” he confessed against your mouth.

“...to get a hit of my favorite addiction,” Jackson paused, leaning back just enough to fully remove the hoodie you were wearing, exposing your chest and upper body to him entirely.  Lifting his eyes to yours, wandering hands resting on your warm, flushed skin. “... you.” 

The intimacy of his words, so poetic and full of intensity, always did something to you.  Your mutual yearning for each other never wavered.

You began rocking your hips on top of him more fervently, applying more direct pressure of your damped heat on top of his erection below which was becoming harder by the second. 

Weaving your lips together, you pressed your bare chest against his torso, the flames of your internal fire stoking your hunger for him with every movement.

“Let me take care of you baby…” you hushed against his lips, your fingers now at the bottom of his own sweatshirt, pulling it and the tank below off at a teasingly slow rate, heightening his anticipation.  

Raking your fingertips down the expanse of his defined chest muscles and toned torso, thin red lines marking his flesh that would linger as a reminder of your touch, you pushed yourself off of his lap and fell to your knees between his legs.

Jackson stayed quiet while his gaze remained fixed on your face, his lips parted, watching your every move so intently.  Though when your fingers reached to the front of his jeans, you heard his sharp inhale when you unbuttoned his pants, and drug the zipper down.  

Leaning forward, eyes still locked in on his own, you pressed a soft kiss to the curve of him straining against the fabric of his boxer briefs.  Noting the small, growing damp spot near the head of his cock, you couldn’t stop yourself from dragging your tongue against it.  

“Fuck,” he exhaled, unable to look away.

Once your fingertips reached the waist of his clothes, Jackson lifted his hips just enough to help you slide everything off, his heavy erection now twitching before you.

Eagerly, you brought your soft palm to the head of his cock, smearing the precum that had collected there to drag down his shaft.

Teasingly, you placed a chaste kiss to the leaking tip of him before dragging your tongue all the way down his hard length and right back up before wrapping your plump lips around him. 

Shifting your weight to get more comfortable, you began bobbing your head up and down him languidly, enjoying the sound of his breath getting steadily heavier.

“Shit, my lady looks so pretty with my dick in her mouth…” he cooed, gingerly moving his hand to your forehead to brush away any unruly strands of hair out of your face.  

Your cheeks flushed a soft pink at his praises, which only encouraged you to take him further down your throat.  Noticing how his words affected you, his hand shifted to the back of your head and helped guide you down as far as you could go, nose pressing into his lower abdomen as a low moan reverberated around his cock.  

“Gooood girl,” he purred, holding your head still for a moment.  “Such a good fucking girl for me.”  Releasing his hold on you, you pulled back off of him completely, gasping for air as a sticky trail of drool connected your lower lip to the head of his dick.  

Wrapping his hand around your hair again, not to force you to move, but to hold you close and keep himself grounded, he became mesmerized by the rise and fall of your breasts with your deep inhales. 

You’d never felt truly desired before Jackson, and how he looked at you like you hung all of the stars in the sky - cherished, revered, loved.  

“So tasty…” you whispered, looking up at him through your eyelashes, bobbing your head back down his flushed cock.  “Want to make you feel so good, Daddy.” 

“Fuck, you could make it go all night and I’d die a happy man,” Jackson said, his voice gravely, low, hoarse.  

Even after years of being together, the pull he had over you was undeniable.  The heat of his gaze caused you to press your thighs together, becoming desperate for some sort of friction.

Closing your eyes, you placed one of your hands on the top of his thighs for stability as your free hand snaked down the front of your body and beneath your soaked panties.  

Noticing the hitch in your breath, Jackson’s eyes moved down to your hand, unable to see it beneath the waistband of your sleep shorts.  Groaning deeply, his hips instinctively lifted, chasing the exquisite feeling of you gagging around him.

“Oh is my girl feeling needy?”  he teased, his grip on your hair tightening, thrusting against the back of your throat in slow pumps.  “Go on, touch yourself… I know you’ve been waiting for me.”

Jackson’s words of approval made you moan around him, encouraging you to press your middle and index finger against your swollen nub, rubbing small circles against the bundle of nerves.

Pulling your lips off of his cock with a loud pop, you inhaled a sharp intake of breath at the sensation between your legs.  

“Fuck,” he whispered, watching your reactions.  Bringing his hand to the base of his dick, he began stroking himself with his free hand, his other still tangled in your hair.  “Finger yourself, let me hear how wet you are.”

“Yes Daddy,” you whined, dipping the same two fingers down your slit and into your throbbing pussy.  Building a slow rhythm, you pressed the heel of your palm against your clit as a wet, squelching sound could be heard from between your thighs.

Leaning forward again, you dipped your head between his muscular legs and dragged your tongue flat against one of his balls.  Hissing at the sudden feeling of your wet, warm breath, Jackson began twisting his hand faster up and down his length. 

Sucking one of them into your mouth, you twirled the tip of your tongue around the delicate flesh, unable to help your moaning. 

The feeling of your vibrations against his most sensitive area caused his grip in your hair to tighten, and he held your head closer against his body, writhing against you as his speed on his cock became erratic.  

“Such a filthy little girl for me, drooling all over me like you can’t get enough… you like it when you’ve got Daddy’s balls in your mouth, don’t you?”  

Nodding frantically, you let go of one and switched to the other, swirling your tongue around it as your fingers buried in your cunt increased their momentum. 

“You gonna cum from just your fingers, sweet girl?”  He asked, almost more demanded.  “Put your mouth back on my cock, you better suck Daddy dry before you fucking cum.”

The switch of his tone from soft and gentle to harsh and domineering was dizzying.  Doing as he demanded though, you took your place back higher on your knees, taking the length of his pulsing cock deep in the back of your mouth once again.

The sensations of Jackson fucking up into your mouth and the sloppy sound of your fingers moving in and out of your slick was becoming too much. 

Digging your fingernails into his thigh, grasping on for purchase, you began rubbing the palm of your hand more fervently against your clit, chasing your eminent release.  

Unable to speak with him so deep down your throat, you hallowed your cheeks and hummed a moan against him, doing all you could to push him over his looming edge.

“Gonna fucking cum princess…” he grunted out, holding your head against him as he bucked up into your mouth once, twice.  Tipping his head back, he left out a filthy, load moan as you felt his warm, sticky seed coating the back of your throat.  

Between the addictive sounds of his climax, the tangy taste of him on the back of your tongue, and the walls of your pussy fluttering around your fingers, you were so close. 

Jackson pulled himself out of your mouth, letting you catch your breath as you so desperately tried to push yourself over the edge.

Regaining his senses, he saw you struggling before him and without any warning, pushed you back onto the floor and ripped your shorts off your legs. 

Pulling your hand away from yourself and letting him manhandle you, you laid back flat against the carpet as Jackson pulled your legs over both of his shoulders and buried his face into your pussy.

“Oh my God, fuck fuck…” you cried, lifting your head just enough to watch him pull your clit between his lips and began sucking.  

Bringing one of his large hands between your thighs, he slipped two of his fingers into your slick walls, already so wet for him.  Curling them just right, and flicking his tongue against your sensitive nub, you started trembling under his touch.

“Gonna c-cum… Daddy please let me cum,” you begged, your fingers finding the back of his head for stability.  Groaning against you, he demanded with one simple word.  “Cum.” 

With his command, the pressure of his fingertips against that sweet spot deep inside you and his skillful tongue, you came hard, involuntarily grinding against his face. 

Jackson left his fingers still, buried inside you, and placed soft kisses against your clit as your body convulsed under the aftershocks of your intense release.

Gently, he released your legs back to the ground, soothingly massaging the tops of your thighs as you tried to catch your breath.  First licking his lips, he brought the back of one of his hands to wipe the remnants of your arousal from his mouth and leaned up to grab the blanket off the back of the couch. 

Laying down beside you, Jackson draped the blanket over both of your naked bodies.  Shifting so he was hovering halfway over you, he brought a hand up to brush the damp strands of hair away from your face and leaned in to kiss you gently.  

“You ok?”  He asked, barely above a whisper.  With a simple nod of your head, you turned to nuzzle into his neck, taking a deep breath.  “I was supposed to be the one taking care of you tonight,” you mumbled.

“Just being here, you telling me sweet nothings…” he paused, pressing his lips to the top of your head, “you got me all right.”

You hummed softly, wrapping an arm around his waist and tangling your legs between his.  “Really was just trying to be an ear for you to vent to, a shoulder to lean on.”

Jackson laughed low, “ain’t no time for talking when we’re tongue-tied.”

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[rviellvs]

kento's the type of husband to rub your tummy every chance he gets, smiling sweetly whenever you give him a confused look. you don't mind the warmth of his hands and the gentle pads of his fingers against your skin, even growing fond of it. it isn't until he's balls deep and you're being split open on his cock that you realize the reason behind his habit.

"fuck—m'all the way here, sweetheart?" kento pants, splaying a large palm justttt under your belly button, making you whine and nod weakly.

"good, that's how deep i'm gonna breed you." any word of complaint on your lips dies the moment kento slings your leg over his shoulder, hitting a spot that makes your back arch pathetically. the menace just chuckles, rubbing your belly soothingly as he messes up your insides.

when—and only when—your poor aching cunt is spilling with his cum, does he press the softest kisses on your tummy, looking up at you with hearts in his eyes.

"do you think it's gonna take? i hope it's a girl."

[rviellvs]

𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐄𝐍

older man.

something about them.

something about their fat meaty cocks.

something about the girthiness of their veiny cock.

something about the way their swollen red tip push your meaty pussy lips apart, ripping through the sticky gummy walls of your pussy.

something about the way their fat cocks pound the cervix of your needy wet pussy.

heavy balls slamming with a wet sound against your soft ass with each hard thrust.

veiny thick forearm flexing as they keep your little sore pussy spread, gaped wide open ready to feed on cock.

pushing your leg next to your head, putting you in a position you never thought you could be put in.

leaning in close to your face while their rough hands never leaving your legs, sweat dripping from their messy hair as they huff, grunt like a dog in heat, rutting into your pussy.

something about them got you obsessed.

so obsessed to the point you had no dignity, being degraded like that at your work place.

your wet pussy gaped widen open at the meeting table. hot fluid gushing from your twitching hole, dripping down the table, coating it with your sticky juice.

four hungry eyes on you, four heavy cocks out, swollen with boiled cum that was ready to be fucked in you.

you were blindfolded, a chokeball was pushing down your wet tongue causing you to drool everywhere, warm saliva dripping down your lips.

you can feel a rough finger slowly circling your puffy clit before trailing down and circling your hole.

"already this fucking wet?". your boss, sukuna tsk at the filthy mess your pussy was making.

he doesn't give you time to react to his words because he already shoved two of his thick fingers deep inside your leaking hole.

two fingers turn into four fingers. your eyes were crossed, choking on your own drool as you tremble. you can feel sukuna slowly shoving his whole fist into your already sore pussy.

you hear gojo groaning behind sukuna as he watches the way your poor little pussy was spurting juice everywhere, trying to swallow sukunas fist.

your hole was gaping wide open as it gets hammered by his fist, your needy pussy sucks his whole fist in with a squelchy wet sound.

he was ripping your pink gooey walls apart, sukuna hiss as he feels the warmth and stickiness of your walls gripping his fist tightly.

"tryin to milk' my fucking fist? hm?". sukuna growls before pounding his hand further into your pussy, creating a belly bludge. your eyes widen, a muffled scream rip out of you as you feel him hitting your cervix, you can feel him in your belly.

he doesn't give you time to adjust. his fist was already thrusting out with a wet sloppy pop, your pussy was gaping open, your gummy slimey walls were visible to the other men in the room, before he shoves it back in.

your pussy effortlessly sucks his fist back in, the lewd sound of your swollen pussy being fisted filled the room.

sukunas fist kept bludging your belly as he fucks it in, and the bludge dissolve as he fucks it out. drill it inside your belly.

you were choking on your sobs, getting treated like nothing but a pussy socket.

you were squirting everywhere with each pound of his fist, hot fluid flying across the room as your warm cum was spurting down his forearm, spilling, dripping and coating his shirt that was rolled up his forearm.

they didn't go to waste, because little did you know toji was rubbing his fat cock on the table that was coated with your hot fluid.

coating his swollen pink tip with your juice, mixing it with his precum that was leaking down his veiny dick.

your mind was to foggy, to fucked to realize gojo and geto were stroking their meaty cock in front of your face.

panting as they squeeze their sensitive tip one last time before hot piss shoot directly into your choked mouth.

mixing with the drool that was dripping down your lips.

continue?...

[rviellvs]

dilf!kento thinks it's odd just how hot and bothered you get when he does the most mundane of things.

for example, he'll be getting dressed in the morning: hair mussed and eyes dark from the lack of sleep that parenthood brings. fingers working his belt through the loops in his slacks and fastening the buckle just to be startled by you, having leapt out of bed to drop to your knees before him and suck him off right there in the walk in closet.

or, later on, when he's cleaning up the kitchen after sending the kids off to school, and you walk in to find his sleeves rolled up, humming away to himself as he washes dishes in the sink. of course, the look on his face when he turns to find you already sat on the countertop and beckoning him over is as priceless as it is arousing.

or god forbid he starts paying bills. sitting at the dining table with papers scattered in front of him, pen held in his strong hand as those glasses of his slide down the bridge of his nose. god, he's so pretty when he's concentrated, working with numbers like a whore! he shouldn't be surprised when you weave your way between him and the papers to sit on his lap and start working at hooking him out of his pants. so you can sit on his cock and get your fill.

"keep acting like that, sir, and you're gonna be a daddy again."

he's gruff. tired. so fucking sexy. "i'm going over the credit card statement. did you spend five hundred dollars on—"

"mmm stop talking and fuck another baby into me, ken."

and, because you married the right man, a pair of strong arms are already hoisting you up and carrying you to the bedroom. "as you wish, love."

[rviellvs]

pregnancy hormones don't stand a chance around your husband, nanami ✧

→ needy pregnant f!reader, whipped nanami, sexually explicit content

"hope that books not more interesting than me," you whisper, propped against the open bedroom door, dressed in nothing but a lacey babydoll lingerie set. your four-month pregnant belly peeks through the lace delicately, and your features are on fire.

kento gives you a little peek. "was wondering what took you so long." he's replying, flicking his book to the next page. you're standing, pouting in his presence.

"hello? i'm horny."

"and you do look very tantalizing in that outfit."

"so come take it off."

he gives you another look, this time lowering the leather-bound book enough to see his face. you pose, crossing your knees and jutting out your hip. you can feel those dark hazels fall over your jutting breasts, then to your widening hips, and finally to your swollen, pregnant belly. his little girl's home.

so, he sits up straight, shoving his book to the side table and ushering you over. "come on, love."

"needy girl..." kento is whispering against the back of your shoulder, pressing kisses there and letting them linger. you're hovering over his lap in reverse cowgirl, tongue pushed from your lips as you focus on staying steady.

"let me have it." you slur, cunt milking obsecnely over his bare lap. he's got a thick fist tight around his erection, making sure you're stable and comfortable before he lets you take him.

"i want you to, but i don't want you to hurt yourself... how about I be on top?"

"—no." you insist, shaking your head violently. he won't let the grip he has on your thighs loose, so all you can taste is the bulbous tip of his familiar, blushing cock.

"why do you insist on being so bratty?"

"I don't want to bottom, baby slides up and into my ribcage and ugh.." you're shivering, and if it wasn't for the abnormal influx of hormones, you'd be turned off just thinking about the pain.

the baby kento pressed into you all those months ago, was an active little girl. she kicked the hell out of you whenever you slept on your back, leading to long nights with little sleep. kento knows this, so why he's telling you to just lie there and take it, is lost on you.

though he's stubborn at times, kento is largely well-trained by you, so he lets you take him like this. his grip starts to loosen, and you can finally feel the stagnancy of his cock start to peek through your sticky folds and into you.

filled to the brim with need, you shiver instantaneously. "oh, please, pleaseplease. all the way—mmgh!!"

he's chuckling behind you—actually breathing a stupid laugh from his nose at your blatancy. "you're shaking already?"

to answer him —you're cumming, and it's a release you've never felt before. his fingers are pressing into your belly, keeping you strong and at his mercy as you cream helplessly all over him. your thighs are shaking, eyes rolling back into your skull as you cry and whine.

it feels like every single one of your nerve endings is being fanned and flamed, driving you absolutely apeshit like you've never been touched a day in your life.

"oh, baby... love."

"sh-shut up."

"that feel good?"

"keep—just keep going." you're begging, drool dripping from your lips as his cock massages that sticky, spongy bunch of nerves at an angle only his cock could hit. he's circling his hips under you, tongue tracing licks across your neck.

your pretty lace panties are ripped and disregarded as the night goes on, and your teddy is busting at the seams, sticking to sweat and dipping off your shoulders. kento's big hand reaches to cradle your swollen breasts, growling in your ear as he fucks you just right... so perfectly and deep that you can feel the slick cervix kisses every time he bottoms out.

you're crazy, and fucked off of five orgasms that night.

thank god for pregnancy hormones—thank god for your husband and all his raw talent. sure, he'll bicker softly just to ignite your needy fires, then he'd give you what you want, exactly how you want, until you're sick with it.

what a thoughtful husband.