"Cleaning Up?" Geto Asks With A Curious Tilt Of His Head, Watching As You Lift Another Framed Photograph

"Cleaning up?" Geto asks with a curious tilt of his head, watching as you lift another framed photograph from your bedside table. You smile, turning on your heel.  

"Yeah, that and I wanted to replace a couple of the pictures," you answer, gesturing to the photo frames lying face up on your bed. Geto follows your gaze, humming thoughtfully. "Want to help me pick them out?" 

Geto smiles, closing the distance between you both and placing a sweet kiss against your forehead. Your arms wrap around his waist, holding him close to you. His eyes wander down to the photograph in your hands – it was one of you, himself, Nanako, and Mimiko.  

Nanako and Mimiko are hanging off of Geto's outstretched arms, their lips turned upward in bright smiles. You're standing just in front of Geto, hands hovering beneath the twin girls just in case either one of them were to fall.  

"Don't replace that one," Geto says suddenly, reaching a larger hand out and taking the frame from you. He smiles at it, then returning it to your hand. You chuckle breathily, stepping out of his embrace and turning to glance at the other photographs you had laid out on your bed.  

"I like that one too. But what about these?" 

You receive no answer. 

"Sugu?" You turn back to where he had been standing, tilting your head curiously. The space he occupied was empty.  

"Mama? Who are you talkin' to?" Nanako peeks her head into your bedroom, her eyebrows pinching together in confusion as she pushes your door open. You still, eyes flickering down to the frame in your hands. Your fingers tighten over it, eyes pricking with tears. "Mama?" 

"Nothin' honey," you reply tearfully, smiling shakily at her as you swipe the backs of your knuckles against your eyes.  

"It was nobody." 

“Shit princess—“ Gojo grunts, hands on your waist as you bounced up and down his cock, your back arching with a cry when you began to roll your hips in desperation.

You were going so fast, mewling each time your boyfriend’s cock nudged your g spot, your hands on his chest steadying your movements.

“Ahh- Satoruu.. so g-good.” you moaned, head falling back with another whiny cry as your nails dug into pale flesh. Teary eyes finally meeting his when you felt yourself getting close.

“Y-yeah? Like riding me like ya own it? Looking so pretty on top of there. ‘S all yours baby, all yours.”

His hold on your hips tightened, allowing you to dumb yourself out as your body trembled. Babbling his name amongst choked moans when you clenched down on him. Head falling back with a loud cry as you made a mess on his cock.

Gojo only looked up at you with a surprised grin when you kept going, his breathing speeding up when your pace got even faster. Letting out shaky whimpers as you continued to grind onto him in pure need.

Pussy dripping down his cock and onto his pelvis as you fucked yourself to yet another high.

“WHERE IS MY WIFE?”

♡ — 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: curses & curse users have discovered satoru’s greatest weakness, and it’s you, satoru’s sweet, ordinary housewife. after getting kidnapped by gojo’s enemies, he’ll do whatever it takes to get you back.

♡ — 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: 18+ only - mdni - slightly dark content // brief smut, fem reader, feral gojo, canon-typical violence, reader gets kidnapped, reader is wounded/has injuries, angst, fluff/comfort

♡ — 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 5K

♡ —𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: I’d count grains of sand if it meant I could spend one minute alone with feral gojo (:

As evening fell, and after a delicious dinner was eaten at the dining table downstairs, Satoru was in the mood for something else now — you.

His pretty housewife would be his dessert.

The apple pie you baked was sitting on the dark marbled counter of the kitchen island, two big slices missing — and the vanilla ice cream tub in the freezer had, of course, two hefty spherical digs in it where the cold treat was scooped out — but, even after his stomach was stuffed after a hard day of fighting curses and teaching his students, Satoru’s head was buried in between your soft thighs, satisfying his other craving.

As your husband moaned softly, his tongue danced around your aching clit. His large hand massaged your thigh. The moonlight pouring in through the big bedroom window shined upon his wedding ring, making it glisten as he rubbed your delicate skin.

“I’ll never get tired of tasting you,” Satoru smiled a bit, his warm breath patting against your wet folds.

“You were made just for me. God, I love it. I love you.”

Two long fingers sunk into your awaiting hole. He attached his soft lips to your clit, sucking on it.

One of your hands gripped at the luxurious pale-cerulean sheets, while your other hand gripped his hair, fingers getting lost in his white locks.

“Satoru!” A sharp moan escaped your dried throat.

Every little noise you made — every moan, every squeak of the thick mattress — it all boasted his desire to please you.

He didn’t stop his licking-sucking-fingering combo until your legs were trembling around his head and he was satisfied with tasting your juices.

Only after devouring your pussy like a starving man feasting on a buffet-style dinner did he rise from his position and make his way across the bed, hovering over you.

With a smile, Satoru leaned down and planted a soft kiss against your lips. But, when he pulled away, he was met with an amused look of disgust.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, furrowing his brows a bit.

“You just kissed me after eating me out,” you said with a little, playful grimace. “That’s nasty.”

“Mrs. Gojo, I mean this in the most respectful way possible, but hush.” Satoru lightly tapped your forehead. “You have swallowed plenty of my-”

“Ah, ah, ah,” shaking your head, you cut off your husband’s naughty sentence, pressing your hand against his lips.

The corners of your mouth burned as you tried to fight off a smile. His latest affectionate nickname was Mrs. Gojo — although it truly wasn’t a nickname due to it technically being your name now — and at every given opportunity, he addressed you that way.

Even after two years of marriage, he was as excited as a freshly wedded man. Your love was a never-ending honeymoon.

You stared into Satoru’s striking blue eyes. He darted his gaze across your gorgeous face, illuminated by the moonlight, and as you ran your fingers through his white hair and he ran his thumb across your cheek, both of you close enough to feel the gentle pats of each other’s breaths on your mesmerizing faces, you both fell in love with each other just a bit more — if that was even possible.

“Can I fuck you now?”

Satoru’s question made a sudden chuckle spilled out from between your lips. He couldn’t help but laugh too.

“You’re a buffoon. I’m trying to admire your beauty and that’s what you open your mouth to say?” You playfully frowned.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard a human being call another human being a buffoon out loud before.”

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes humorously. “We need to do our skincare routine first. We have to do it an hour before we go to bed or else we might just rub all the product off. I read that somewhere.”

“Why didn’t we do it before we got into bed in the first place?” Satoru buried his head in the crook of your neck, pouting, but taking a moment to press a little kiss onto your skin.

“Because you were acting as if you were dying of poison and eating me out was the antidote, so I forgot.” you giggled softly.

“Fine, fine,” your husband slowly rolled off of you in defeat. “Skincare routine, nothing more. Please don’t start trying to organize the bath towels.”

“I’m not making any promises,” you said, getting out of bed and following Satoru into the master bathroom.

There, you and your husband stood in front of the big mirror, cleansing and moisturizing your skin as you both chatted about his students, a movie you watched three days ago, and your breakfast plans in the morning.

And it was those sweet little moments that made Satoru’s heart skip a beat. As he flickered his eyes over to your reflection, watching your smother smooth white cream all over your face as you rambled on about a new egg recipe, he couldn’t help but think about how much he loved you.

—

6:00 A.M.

That night ended with soft sex and gentle kisses.

That morning, Satoru’s white eyelashes fluttered open to the early morning sun starting to rise, casting rays through the drawn window curtains and across his comforter.

He squinted his eyes and yawned.

Typically, he was the sort of man who would never wake up at the ungodly hour if he could help it, but the tantalizing aroma of fresh coffee and sizzling eggs had traveled from the kitchen downstairs to right underneath his nose.

Tossing on his blue houseboat, the grumpy-faced man dragged himself into the kitchen, greeting you with a slightly gruff morning voice and a messy head of hair.

“Good morning, baby,” Satoru walked around the kitchen island and loosely wrapped his arms around your waist, hugging you from behind. “How’d you sleep? I had a nightmare.”

With a spatula in one hand, you flipped the omelet in the skillet on the six-burner stove. With the other hand, you rubbed his arm, enjoying the warmth his hovering hug had brought.

“I slept alright,” you said. “Did the smell wake you up?”

“Always does,” he smiled lazily although you couldn’t see it.

“Well, your drink’s ready,” you gave a nod in the general direction of the silver espresso machine, which hummed as it brewed Satoru’s steamy beverage.

“I don’t deserve you,” Satoru’s arms hugged you tighter, and he showered the side of your head with kisses.

“Stop it,” your sweet laughter only egged him on as you clenched the spatula and leaned back against him even more. “No fooling around when we’re this close to the stove.”

Satoru eventually backed away after giving you one final kiss against your forehead temple.

“If all goes well, I should be back home tomorrow before dark, then we can check out that new restaurant. What do you say? I personally think it’s time for a date.”

The image of you and Satoru sipping on wine and as you wore your favorite dress flashed in your mind, and you smiled. A date night was certainly something to look forward to in light of Satoru’s overnight trip.

Sorcering duties had often taken him on distant work trips. Truth be told, you were lucky his departure would only last around twenty-four hours and not twenty-four days. Although you missed him whenever he would leave, you understood his choice of career. He was a hero.

You happened to be an ordinary human being. You couldn’t see curses. You couldn’t use cursed energy or cursed techniques, but you were fine with that.

“A date sounds fun! I’m excited now.” You took the omelet out of the skillet and placed it on a nearby plate. “And we’re making time to try out that new pottery class too. It sounds like such a cute date idea, don’t you think so?”

“I’m with you. I’ll make the reservations for the restaurant, you can schedule us for pottery-making.” This time, he was the one blissfully picturing you and him spinning messy clay with him sitting behind you and reaching around your body for the pottery wheel, your fingers intertwined as you both created a pot. Satoru smiled at the thought. “Anyway, now that you’re done cooking, can I kiss you?”

You nodded with a cheeky grin, and your husband pressed his lips against yours sweetly.

It was as if some part of him was frightened that he would never get the opportunity to kiss you again.

—

8:37 P.M.

The bright light far above your head flickered briefly as you stood in the pasta aisle at your local grocery store, but you hadn’t noticed it, too fixated on the different brands of spaghetti noodles lying on the shelf above you.

Shopping at night wasn’t preferable, but only after tossing together a simmering pan of sauce did you realize you hadn’t started boiling your noodles yet.

And, with your pot of simmering water ready, you opened the cabinet to see no noodles.

So, here you were, making a last-minute, unplanned trip to the grocery store.

By now, the only sort of pasta noodles left were the ones that a person of average height couldn’t reach. Every box was too high.

You turned your head to the left and to the right.

You even bothered to walk down a few aisles to search for an employee or anyone who might have been tall enough to reach your needed item, but the only other person staggering around was an older blonde-haired woman who was shorter than you were.

Frowning in frustration, you returned to the pasta aisle.

If you had to climb the shelves, so be it.

Suddenly, a kind voice spoke over the calming public-friendly background music playing softly in the store.

“Need some help?”

Whipping your head around, you saw a person — a taller person, thank goodness — who had a smile that was just as sweet as his voice.

“Yes, thank you!” You found that his grin was rather contagious, as you ended up smiling as well. “I just need the spaghetti noodles on the top shelf. Any brand will do.”

The beaming man with long, dark hair stepped forward, and you moved to the side, letting the apparent hero save your day.

He pulled down your desired spaghetti noodles with ease.

“Thanks for your help. My spaghetti sauce won’t go to waste now,” you said politely.

Your eyes darted up to the stitched scar across his forehead, then quickly, you glanced away.

“You’re welcome. Have a good night.”

The man walked down the aisle and left.

There was something familiar about him, oddly enough.

That hair . . . that smile . . .

He reminded you of an old, deceased friend of Satoru’s, one that you hadn’t ever met due to his villainous behavior before his death, but you had seen an old picture of him that he and your husband took during their second year at Jujutsu High, years ago.

As you placed the pasta noodles into your cart, making your way around different aisles to collect a few more items since you were already at the store, you decided that you’d take another look at that photograph once you arrived home, just for peace of mind.

The brown paper bag stuffed with groceries felt rather heavy as you walked down the street, which was brightened by light pouring out of the windows of local businesses that hadn’t yet closed.

You sighed softly.

The dark sky was sparkling with stars. The air was cool and comforting. Soon, you’d have pasta, and perhaps, you’d watch a few episodes of your favorite binge-worthy Netflix show.

If only Satoru was with you.

Chatting with him on the phone a few hours ago only made you miss him even more, but, at least his trip would be a quick one, and soon, you could have dinner with him and listen to his hilarious commentary as you watched television together.

After walking for around five minutes, you were no longer close to the local businesses that made you feel a sense of comfort during your evening stroll.

Now, you had to rely on the occasional streetlight to guide you home.

But that cold air was no longer comforting. It was a chilling breeze that made you clench your grocery bag a bit tighter.

Your footsteps suddenly halted — you could hear something moving in the nearby bushes.

Turning around, you were greeted with nothing but darkness and streetlights. No one else was with you. You kept walking.

However, something wasn’t right.

You might not have been a sorcerer, but you weren’t a fool.

And you had a gut-wrenching feeling that right now, as your wobbly legs guided you home, you were being watched.

You heard that noise again.

The grocery bag crinkled against your chest. You were certain that the bread you purchased was squished by now. If someone was following you, did you really want to unintentionally lead them to your home?

Where should you go? What should you do?

A tear rolled down your cheek from fear.

You were scared. You only wanted to go home, finish your pasta, and watch television.

You didn’t want to deal with such a potentially terrifying situation.

Pulling out your phone, you opened your dial screen.

Your trembling thumb hovered over the buttons, but before you could press anything, a black, disfigured curse appeared in front of you, screeching loudly enough to make you drop everything in your hands and cover your ears, more tears falling as the horrifying monster started to charge at you.

You tried to run in the other direction, but it was too late.

The last thing you saw before you were engulfed by darkness was that man from the grocery store standing on the sidewalk, that same sweet smile on his familiar face.

—

12:27 A.M.

Satoru’s eyes snapped open. He couldn’t remember falling asleep, as he had spent most of the night tossing and turning because you weren’t lying next to him. But, apparently, he did manage to catch a couple of hours of shut-eye.

When he awakened, there was a terrible ache in his heart. Dread pooled in the pit of his stomach, and beads of sweat decorated his forehead. His throat was dried to a crisp.

He was all alone in his dark hotel room.

He couldn’t hear you.

He couldn’t see you.

And yet, somehow, someway, thanks to his great power, he knew that his wife was calling for him.

—

The overwhelming scent of old, wet, musky wood and dust would never be forgotten by your memory. A lifetime of therapy would never be able to erase the paralyzing fear you felt, sitting on the cold, hard ground of an abandoned cabin with your hands bound behind your back.

Maybe the fear wasn’t completely paralyzing, though. Your body seemed to tremble with terror just fine.

The sight of it made Suguru Geto — no, Kenjaku chuckle.

He kept his eye on you for no other reason besides his entertainment, as watching you himself was pointless considering he had two frightening curses looming over you.

Once, Satoru shared a fun fact with you: regular human beings cannot see curses unless they are about to die.

That fact was certainly interesting when the two of you were strolling through the beautiful park, a red and white striped blanket in your hand and a picnic basket in his. But, now, that fact only made sweat drip off of your scarred forehead, because you could see the two, black, disfigured curses.

It was a telltale sign that you could die.

“I haven’t had the displeasure of meeting him myself,” Kenjaku suddenly spoke, relaxing in a chair he had positioned a few feet away from the corner you were trapped in. “But I have seen memories of Satoru Gojo that belonged to this body I’ve inhabited. And, I must say, I couldn’t imagine that his wife would be such a weakling. It’s truly pathetic.”

Even if you wanted to reply to him, fear had snatched away your ability to speak. It created a lump in your throat that couldn’t be swallowed down.

“My best guess is that he needs someone boring and ordinary in his life to keep house while he’s busy saving the world. You’re just the cook and maid with a ring on her finger, hm?”

“He loves me.”

Your voice was small — it was a painfully perfect reflection of how you felt on the inside. Weak and pathetic.

“Oh?” Kenjaku raised his eyebrows, smiling slightly. “Believe it or not, I hope you’re right, or else kidnapping you was a waste of time.”

Your chains rattled as you shifted in your spot on the floor, scooting as far into the corner as you could get. An ache shot up your spine from the wall pressing into your back. Pulling your knees to your chest, more tears slipped from your eyes.

“Aw, don’t cry,” he falsely cooed. “Surely you’ve wondered why the world’s strongest sorcerer would settle for someone who forgets to double-check all of their ingredients before they start cooking, haven’t you? It’s not because of love, or anything of the sort. It’s because those who are deeply insecure would do anything to please anyone who looks their way. Only an ordinary, desperate housewife with low self-esteem and no ambition would waste time caring for a man who risks his life saving strangers. What would make you think he cares for you when he spends more time with curses than his own wife? Helping strangers more than his own family? Think about it.”

Kenjaku’s hurtful words were met with silence, but he didn’t stop speaking.

“I bet you’re nothing but a burden to him. Someone like him probably hates being tied down, but marrying a fool who contributes nothing to society is the only way he can get someone else to handle his laundry while he’s busy working hard, hm? He must carry around divorce papers, ready to serve them to you the day you forget to buy detergent from the grocery store.” Kenjaku’s smile brightened. “Oh, that reminds me. You dropped your detergent and other groceries on the road earlier, by the way. Looks like you’re useless now.”

“You . . .” your teary eyes flickered from him to the hovering curses. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. None of that’s true.”

“You have to believe that I’m speaking honestly, Y/N.” Kenjaku sighed with fake sincerity. “My entire plan rests on the hope that Satoru Gojo is foolish enough to try to rescue you. You see, when you want to lure someone out, the proper way to do it is by discovering their weaknesses. When I found out about you, I was hoping that you would be his weakness. That I could use you to lure him out. Then I met you, and, well, you’re simply disappointing. Sorry to break it to you, but I have memories of the old conversations Satoru used to have with Suguru, and being tied down to a powerless housewife was certainly not how he imagined his future. But, I figured I’d try anyway, and so here you are, and he’s not here to rescue you. What a shame. I bet he’s hoping I’ll kill you so he’ll be free.”

He was lying. He had to be. Satoru loved you more than anything . . . right?

The thought had crossed your mind before; why did Satoru want to be with someone powerless? And this villain’s plan to lure out your husband relied on his hope that he’d come to rescue you out of love, so how would it benefit him to convince you Satoru didn’t love you?

Maybe he was right.

After all, if Satoru cared for you, he would have saved you by now. Where was he?

You couldn’t help but cry even harder.

“Please let me go home,” your tears clouded your vision. “Please let me go.”

“Well, you should know that I hate wasting time,” Kenjaku rested his chin in the palm of his hand, elbow pressing into the arm of the chair he sat in. “I can’t let you leave. I won’t let the effort I put into kidnapping you be a total waste.”

Kenjaku’s smile widened, and suddenly, the curses started to move towards you.

—

1:45 A.M.

The subway station was isolated. No ordinary human beings were lurking around, and Satoru was relieved. Right now, he’d kill anyone who looked at him the wrong way.

His shoes gently shuffled against the ground as he made his way into the middle of the big, bright opening, and he clenched his fists, his nails digging into the skin of his palm, hard enough to draw blood.

Two special grade cursed spirits emerged. He recognized them both from a previous fight in the woods.

Volcano head. Asparagus.

“Satoru Gojo,” Jogo suddenly said. “We didn’t think you’d be foolish enough to-”

“Where is my wife?”

When Satoru interrupted the curse, his voice was low. Dark. Startling.

Blood dripped from his palms and splattered onto the ground.

“I was drawn here, but she isn’t here, is she? Where is she? Tell me now, and I’ll kill you quickly instead of slowly.”

Jogo chuckled a bit. Satoru dug his nails into his palm even more.

“Bring us the vessel, Yuji Itadori, and we’ll return that worthless-”

The two curses didn’t have time to blink — weren’t able to register in their minds that Satoru had moved from his previous spot until Jogo was lifted off of the ground and thrown into the flickering light fixture above, shattering it and causing sparks to rain down onto the ground below, where he then fell.

Satoru stepped on Jogo’s head, squishing it underneath his black shoe.

“I remember you. You’re stubborn, right?” Satoru gritted his teeth. “Who the hell do you think you are to take her from me? Whoever you work for must want you dead if they’re stupid enough to send you on a suicide mission. You think I’ll let you leave here alive after this?”

“If you kill us, you’ll never see her again,” the other cursed spirit, Hanami, suddenly spoke up. “Bring us the vessel, and she lives.”

When Satoru suddenly stopped moving, it was only to ensure that he had heard the cursed spirit correctly.

“Did you just threaten . . .” Satoru removed his blindfold, “to kill my wife?”

It was only a matter of time before the branches attached to Hanami’s head were ripped out, and Jogo was beheaded. The subway was reduced to nothing except crumbling walls and darkness. While the cursed spirits were teetering dangerously between life and death, there wasn’t a scratch on Satoru. Instead, there was a smile.

This was simply the consequence of their actions. This was what happened to anyone who laid a hand on his girl.

Hanami’s body was on the brink of collapse as it was forced to come in contact with Satoru’s cursed technique — a blue shield-like piece of infinity that distorted and manipulated both time and space, protecting the sorcerer from attacks and rendering Hanami powerless.

Hanami’s eyes darted over to their beheaded ally — they couldn’t help him.

“I’m going to ask you one last time,” Satoru’s eyes widened. His smile grew. He slowly turned, facing Hanami, and blasted him back against the nearest wall without lifting a finger. “Where is my wife?”

—

2:39 A.M.

Kenjaku had never understood the concept of love, and, perhaps, that was why he failed.

Satoru’s love for you was his weakness, that was true, but it also turned out to be his greatest strength, and this was a fight Kenjaku couldn’t win.

Not today.

One of his curses, which had been traveling to and fro to observe what was currently taking place in the subway station and reporting it back to Kenjaku, had informed him that Jogo and Hanami were on the brink of death.

He couldn’t lose them yet. They were too powerful, and he needed their help for his future plans.

Kenjaku left the cabin, taking his curses with him.

And, without their cursed energy purposely making it difficult for Satoru to find you, he was able to pinpoint your exact location.

It appeared in his powerful mind as he was ripping Hanami apart limb by limb, and he wasn’t a fool. He didn’t know who was behind all of this, but it was clear that the mastermind had suddenly decided to let your whereabouts be tracked down in order to save Hanami and Jogo.

He didn’t want to make that deal. He wanted to kill these two, bring them back to life, and kill them over again. Their pain brought him joy, all because they took part in your capture.

But Satoru didn’t want his bloodlust to backfire. After all, if he killed the cursed spirits now, the person who held you captive could change their mind and move you someplace else and hide your location yet again, or, worse — they could kill you.

That wasn’t a chance he was willing to take.

Satoru stopped using his technique. But, as he left the subway station, he promised himself that eventually, he would kill those two. He would kill anyone and everyone involved.

But you came first.

You would always come first.

—

He found you.

When Satoru kicked open the door belonging to a raggedy, abandoned cabin, the scent of blood overwhelmed him. It dirtied his boots as he kneeled by your side. Your unconscious, bleeding body was lying there, simply left on the ground as if you were nothing.

“Y/N . . .” Satoru called out breathlessly.

He took the chains off of you instantly, his bloodshot eyes darting over every gaping wound.

It was indescribable — the anger he felt. He wanted to return to the subway and finish off those cursed spirits, to make them suffer and suffer and suffer.

But tending to you took priority right now. Satoru scooped up your broken and bruised body, holding you as softly as he could. A tear fell from his eye, splattering against your cheek.

“I’ve got you, it’s okay,” he spoke gently.

Your eyelids fluttered as you awakened. An overwhelming sense of pain slammed into you once you regained consciousness, and hot tears streamed down your cheeks. Prior to this, the only pain you had ever known was the wholesome body ache from tripping and falling while playing outside with your friends as a child. But this level of misery took away your ability to speak. Left you wondering if you were going to die.

You could make out stains of your blood on Satoru’s clothes.

Even so, you could tell based on the pained look on his face that he was suffering even more just from seeing you in such a condition.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he mumbled, slowly getting off the ground as he carried you. “This is all my fault. They did this to you because of me. I’m so sorry.”

Satoru raised you a bit, gently pressing a soft kiss against your forehead.

He’d give anything to switch places with you right now — to be the one in unspeakable pain. Why couldn’t they have kidnapped him? Tortured him? If he had the power to take away your suffering and give it to himself, he would. For you, not only would he kill, but he’d die, repeatedly and without a second thought or a moment of hesitation.

As Satoru took you to the nearest hospital, his tears spilling onto your body, he said, “We’re almost there, okay? I promise I’ll make them pay for this, and no one will ever lay a hand on you again.”

Arriving into the uncomforting white halls of the emergency room, Satoru handed you off to the nurses and doctors who rushed up to him. But, before they placed you on the nearest stretcher, Satoru kissed your forehead once again as unconsciousness claimed you, and he whispered, “I love you, Y/N.”

—

10:02 A.M.

Two days later, you awakened in a hospital bed. This time, pain didn’t greet you, but grogginess and blurred vision. The gentle beeps from the nearby machines certainly didn’t help your pounding headache.

Your sight started to clear up after blinking a few times.

Soft strands of hair tickled your arm, and when you looked to your left, you saw Satoru slumped in a chair, his head resting in his arms on the side of your bed. You reached over and ruffled his messy white hair a bit.

He shot up, startled. His blue eyes were wide with alarm, then they softened with gratefulness, but, lastly, they darted down with sorrow.

“Y/N . . . thank god, you’re awake.” Satoru croaked out in his morning voice, clearing his throat a bit. He was dehydrated — too focused on your recovery to worry about himself. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m so . . .”

Satoru got out of his chair, sat on the side of your bed, and leaned over, resting the side of his head against your chest.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeated.

“It’s not your fault,” you mumbled weakly. “It’s mine.”

Satoru pulled his head away from you, staring at you with furrowed brows and a confused gaze.

“What? No, it’s not.”

You couldn’t find the courage to look him in the eye. Kenjaku’s words replayed in your mind. They hurt just as much as getting attacked by curses.

As if reading your thoughts, Satoru cupped your chin, turning your head back in his direction.

“Look at me,” he said. “What happened wasn’t your fault. I know what you’re thinking, and I don’t care if you can’t fight curses-”

“You’re just saying that . . . because I’m kinda useful to you. But I’m easily replaceable. Speaking honestly, I’m a burden. You had to come save my life, and put yourself in danger. I’m not worth it.”

“You think I married you because you’re useful?” Hurt flashed in Satoru’s piercing eyes. “I’m in love with you, and you’ll never be a burden. I don’t care if you can’t fight curses. You’re my wife for a reason, and that’s because there’s nothing greater than seeing you get excited over finding your favorite snack at the grocery store or seeing the way you smile when your favorite scene from a show comes on, and you sit there and watch it as if you haven't seen it a thousand times. I love the way your eyes light up when you find a new activity in town for us to try, or a new book to read, or a new recipe. God, I just . . . I love you. I love you more than anything. I don’t know how you’re able to put up with someone like me. Every day I wonder how I got so lucky because I don’t deserve you. You’re too good for me, and I haven’t met anyone as loving as you are. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Do you understand me? I’d kill and die for you.”

Satoru gently wiped away the tear that fell from your eyes with his thumb.

“I love you too,” you smiled softly, leaning into his touch. “I’m sorry we missed our dinner reservations and the pottery class.”

Satoru couldn’t help but lean in and kiss your cheek.

“I’ve already rescheduled two weeks out.”

Moving away from your cheek, your husband softly kissed your lips. And while he had spent time rescheduling your date night and making sure you were receiving the excellent care you deserved while in the hospital, he was also hard at work, tracking down the monsters that dared to lay a hand on you.

He would make them suffer.

🏷️: @sad-darksoul @priv-rose @yihona-san06 @keriaonmarz @luvvmae @underworldsheiress @notgoodforlife @levisfavoriteteashop @insomniacbehaivour @preciousamethyst @kxmorrx @iwanttohitmyself @shoyosdoll @lil-apple-pie @prettypixigrl @sonarspace @averysmolbear @starstoru @starlightanyaaa @dolphin1135 @nnasv @hyunorue

your beauty never scared me ˚➶ ｡˚ ☁️ suguru geto

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ synopsis: after having your heart broken, your best friend helps you pick up the pieces ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ content + warnings: nsfw + mdni !! fem!reader x suguru, reader was in a toxic relationship + cheated on, fwb!suguru, angst, comfort, smut, unprotected sex ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ word count: 5k (+ a smau!! woo!!) ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ author notes: pink indicates reader's pov, orange is suguru's...inspired by Will Grayson, Will Grayson by John Green <3 also this was not beta read so pls excuse any typos xx i hope yall enjoy !!

Heartache has its own special way of ruining someone…

...stripping away every ounce of self-respect you work so hard to accumulate. That’s the trouble with letting people in. The outcome is almost always undecided, left in the hands of fate or whatever the hell you believe in. Perhaps it's a moment of weakness, letting a stranger entangle themselves with every fiber of your being, see every inch of your skin, explore the darker parts of your mind– even the things you hide from yourself. Putting trust in the wrong things, the wrong people. Never knowing someone’s true intentions until you discover them in bed, in your bed, with another. When something breaks inside of you, something cynical puts the pieces back together. You are a shell of who you once were. Blame it on soul-crushing character development.

It’s hard to watch the woman you love destroy herself…

...for the sake of holding on to someone who has only ill-intent in their heart. Perhaps it’s best to remove yourself. It’s agonizing, knowing you have the ability to save her from all this. You could relieve her of the heartache, free her from the suffering. Bring her nothing but joy. She has changed, evolved, and is nearly unrecognizable now. You watch as he withers her down into nothing. That man broke her, leaving her to pick up the pieces. And the woman you see now isn’t the same one you knew all those years ago.

The cold air of December flurries around outside as your chest erupts in warmth at the sight of her name illuminating your lock screen. She asks to see you, and you’d be a fool to decline. As she’s sat before you, you take in every part of her that you missed. But she’s different now. Dull eyes, sloping shoulders, her cheekbones are sunken in as her clothes hang from her figure like it's two sizes too big. But it isn’t, you remember the day she bought that t-shirt. The soul that normally inhabits her body has been replaced with something…unrecognizable. You know it’s her, but your mind tells you otherwise. The way her voice lilts from her lips, how chillingly different she sounds while delivering the news, it’s heartbreaking. 

She informs you she won’t be around much, mentioning that it will take time for her to heal from this. You pretend to be supportive of the distance she wants to place between herself and her loved ones, even though it absolutely crushes you. 

There’s something peaceful about loneliness…

…only relying on yourself for company. It can be draining of course. With the few friends you do have, you make the most of it. It’s a serene feeling, private even. People perceive you however they please, but only a few trusted individuals know your ins and outs. It's refreshing. 

God forbid you have to cater to someone else, especially when dating. It's hard enough having to take care of yourself. You make sure your friends know they’re loved and appreciated, of course, but the idea of inviting another person into your life; someone who demands your time and attention in order for it to work out? No thank you. It’s backfired for you many times before, you aren’t willing to go through it again. Your friends have watched you heal from heartbreak after heartbreak, each one more damning than the last. No one blames you for your cynicism, it’s understandable. 

Plus, the emotional upkeep of a romantic relationship is exhausting. And the idea of meeting someone, falling for them, and it not working out in the end? Torturous. Why put yourself through all that?

“You just haven’t found the right one!” 

“They’ll come around when you least expect it!”

“You gotta put yourself back out there!” 

Blah, blah, blah. Not interested. There’s no room for hopeless romance in this ill-fated world. You’re not dealing with that pain anymore. Not if you can help it. 

The trouble with love is that it’s cruel…

…discriminatory, even. Picking and choosing who gets to rejoice in its bliss and simultaneously alienating the unfortunate souls who suffer in its unyielding grip. You attempt to find peace in the silence of her absence, telling yourself that she’s okay, but knowing all too well that her precious heart is still shackled to someone so undeserving. You hold on to the irregular check-in’s you get from her. You hope she’s healing, and you prepare yourself for the outcome; that when she finally returns, she will not be the same person she was. 

Betrayal has a pesky habit of sticking around…

…a lingering feeling that still eats away at you. The night you caught him in his infidelity, something deep within you broke. It wasn’t your heart, no, that would be too simple. It was your psyche, the core of your being. The day he left, a part of you left with him. The chemistry of your brain changed, your atomic makeup shifting toward nihilism. 

So you move through life differently now. Every positive outlook you once had now cast to the wayside, replaced with unyielding suspicion in attempts to keep your heart guarded from the outside world. Hope has finally run out, the idea that there’s good in everyone proven to be a goddamn lie. You shove your desire for love into a padded safe and hide it away on a forgotten shelf in your mind. Hell, you’d burn that obnoxious feeling if you could. Run it through a meat grinder, chuck it into a volcano, nuke it. Doesn’t matter. Anything to stop it from tearing you apart. It’s not like it’s done you any good. Besides, who would want someone as damaged as you?

Part of you feels guilty…

…for sitting idly by, knowing your dear friend was hurting so deeply. But there wasn’t much you could do. You grant her space, knowing she wasn’t given that same courtesy for four years of her life. You pray she returns soon, aware that she doesn’t do well on her own. Her own mind is acting like a prison, holding her hostage, forcing her to relive her pain day in and day out. But, god damn it, you can’t take it anymore. You have been without her for so long. So you reach out, demanding she spend time with you. Self-isolation can only get you so far. It had been months since you’d seen her last. And to your surprise, she agrees.

A spring evening, 65 degrees, the setting sun…

…a gentle breeze that laps at your warm skin as you sit cross-legged on a checkered blanket. The beautiful flowers of May decorate the ground in colorful clusters. The cicadas sing while the bees are busy buzzing around. It’s a strange feeling; coping with the fact that your life has reached rock-bottom, a total stand-still as you work to heal yourself, yet life continues to move, to grow, to thrive. It’s inspiring in a way. You are accompanied by Suguru. He managed to get you out of the house after weeks of rotting away inside, anchored down by the gut wrenching feeling of heartbreak.

Laughter echoes through the park as the two of you revel in the serenity. Life feels…good. Whole. Worth living. It’s been a while since it has felt this way. It shouldn't feel strange, but it does. Happiness has become a foreign concept to you.

Sitting before you is the woman you love…

…the color in her cheeks has returned, the fullness of her face present once more. After suffering through the many months of thunder and unrelenting downpour in her mind, she has bloomed once more. Finally. You couldn’t pull your attention away from her even if you wanted to, your body and mind drawn to her in the most spiritual way. Even though she’s deep in thought, working to take in her surroundings, her beauty is still very much evident. She isn’t even aware of the power she holds– utterly entrancing. You would do anything to live in this moment forever. You’d do anything for her. 

But in this moment…

…with a forgotten feeling of fulfillment creeping its way into your chest as the soft rays of the sun dance across your skin and the sounds of nature swirl through your ears, you realize something. Something so beautiful, yet so fucking terrifying. You love him. Suguru. Maybe it was just your heartache talking, connecting dots that had no business associating. 

You brush it off, hide it away, and chalk it up to just being in a vulnerable moment. Your heart had been torn from your body only a few months prior. Anger still rips through your chest when you think about it. Four years wasted on someone you had placed on the highest pedestal, far higher than you placed your family, your friends…yourself. You were blindsided. In an instant, everything you had come to love, the home you felt safe in, the person you thought you knew…ripped away. Like it was nothing at all. 

Suguru has done what he could to mend the wounds for you, knowing good and well that if you are left to your own devices you would spiral past the point of return. And as renewing as this spring evening is, you know you will never be the same again. 

But you can’t help but fixate on the way he makes you feel. And as hard as you try to push those feelings away, they continue to bubble up. What happens when it finally reaches its boiling point?

You’re only human. You have wants, needs, and desires…

…so who do you turn to for that release? Suguru, of course. Isn’t that what friends are for?

Some would say it’s an evil thing to do; to use someone for pleasure, your own personal gain. A part of you understands that, too. Sure, it may have started out that way, but it’s shifted. And that scares the shit out of you, how you find yourself searching for his validation, the sadness you feel when he leaves in the morning after a night full of fun. So why not tell yourself that you’re just doing what you need to do, rather than what you want to do. Ignoring the fact that deep down you really fucking love it. 

It’s not like you’re taking advantage of him and the bond you share…not really, anyway. The two of you are very close, having known each other for ten years. Side by side, maneuvering through a decade of emotional ups and downs; personal dilemmas, weird family dynamics, terrible relationships, fluctuating hormones and unexpected cast changes within your friend group. But the two of you have always stayed consistent, the main characters. Your personalities mesh well, constantly riffing off one another. Never ending laughter and smiles. He's seen you at your absolute worst and vice versa. The true definition of unconditional love. So why not get a little more from him? After all this time, it feels warranted, well-deserved, even. Ignoring what you feel for him, it just makes sense that this is how it should go down. Plus, if it was such a bad idea, why would he agree?

You would accept her…

…in any way she chooses to present herself to you. After years of watching her hurt, you finally have your friend back, and there isn’t anything you wouldn't do to make her happy. Especially with guilt that you still feel, knowing there was nothing you could have done that would’ve saved her from her suffering. So when she suggests the idea of being friends with benefits, you’d be insane to deny her that. Is it a bad idea? Perhaps. You refuse her offer? She slips away, seeking refuge in the arms of another, someone who could hurt her…Never again.

You crave her so deeply that this arrangement seems perfect. Even though you dread the morning after, not wanting to leave her side…jumping on every opportunity to see her, showering her in praise every time you’re nestled deep within her warmth– the way her eyes light up at your word makes you melt. Is it possible she feels the same way? The more you think about it, the less crazy the idea seems. Would she leave you in the dust if you told her the truth? You don’t want to risk losing her. Not if you can help it. But you can’t confess your underlying intentions. Even though a deep part of you hopes for more, it doesn’t even matter at this point. Hide it. You get to be with her in a way that you never have before, and that’s enough for you…right? 

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

It all transpired after one drunken night playing a confessional card game with your friend group. You were shit-faced and horny, and he wasn’t any better off. You’re honestly surprised his dick still worked that night, but god did it work. You didn’t expect it to go any further after that, assuming it was a one-off occasion. The two of you never really addressed what happened, either, didn’t take the time to have a real conversation about it. Just a quick “hey, do you wanna…” followed by an indifferent “yeah, why not?”, and that was that. Which is probably a good thing, because any more talking would have most likely resulted in your true feelings coming to the surface. But it happened, and is still happening, so who are you to complain? It’s perfect.

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

Your friends and random on-lookers alike say you’re compatible, and yeah, they might be right, but fuck that. Why risk the friendship you cherish so deeply for a title? That's idiotic. It's borderline insanity. The minute you put a label on something it all comes crashing down. So, why ruin a good thing? 

Don’t overthink it. It’s nothing serious, and it never will be. You refuse to open yourself up to somebody else, someone new. No more getting hurt. You’ve let Suguru into your life in a more meaningful way than you have for anyone else. And that’s far enough.

Does he know every little thing about you? Sure. 

Does he care for your well-being? Yeah. 

Is he attentive, thoughtful, and supportive? Of course…it is Suguru after all. 

But so what? That's what friends are for. 

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

You and Suguru see each other frequently, at least three times a week, whether it’s just a normal hangout or…a hangout. You just get what you need and go; a good laugh, dinner and a movie, casual drinks, or a heaven-sent dick appointment. You both seem content, enjoying one another’s company and…bodies…and minds and souls. 

Fuck.

It’s hard to ignore your totally natural, human need for deeper intimacy. But you try to, and damn do you try hard. It would probably be best for you to stop hooking up with Suguru and just go back to how things were. 

You can’t go through this. Not again. You’ve already shifted the perfectly normal dynamic you once had into something deeper. Something…real. There’s no turning back now. So you continue to hide behind your ego, fighting off every demon known to man in hopes that this will all just go away. 

You’ve been somewhat successful in suppressing your feelings, molding them into something more manageable. You are best friends, with the addition of benefits. Simple. Nothing more, nothing less. You pretend to be ignorant of Suguru's awe-inspiring beauty. How his energy is absolutely addicting, the way his lingering touch burns your skin so beautifully. He makes you feel seen for everything you are and appreciates you for everything you’re not. That sentiment alone propels you through the unexplored cosmos, crossing the line between reality and nirvana as starlight dances across your skin.

Not to mention, when you two are actually fucking? It's like two parts of the same soul finally meeting after centuries of arduous searching. You don’t know where your body stops and his begins, entangled in the most profound way. 

God. You sound insane. This is no way to view a friend…your best friend, at that. Get it together. 

What would you even call this? Touch starved? No, he touches you plenty…and in all the right places, too. Is it desperation? Your insatiable need for love? Karmic punishment for all your failed relationships? The corny trope where you end up falling for your best friend? As much as you want to fight against the feelings you have for him, it’s too late. 

Whatever. Just play it off. You refuse to let your walls down. And you’d hate to give Suguru the satisfaction of being the one who commandeered heavy machinery and sent a wrecking ball toward your emotional fortress. 

If you don’t acknowledge your feelings they’ll just cease to exist, right? Yeah, that’s how it works. And it’s a super healthy coping mechanism, too. 

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

All this deep pondering and emotional soul searching has got you worked up. You decide to see if Suguru wants to come over. Not because you miss him, or anything. It’ll be nothing more than a casual hook up. Dick only, no feelings. 

You catch yourself giggling at his messages. Gross. You brush it off with a shake of your head, a violent wave of self awareness washing over you. 

I'm not going through this again. I refuse.

You read the messages over and over. Do you seem desperate? Do your texts carry the perfect amount of indifference? Whatever. It doesn’t matter, it’s just Suguru, anyway. He's stuck around this long, it would take a lot to scare him off, now.

The plan’s in motion, and you’re going to have a good time tonight. You feel your heart rate spike at the thought of seeing him. That's a totally normal reaction for someone who has no feelings involved, right? Just friends…right? 

Suguru chuckles as he reads your response. Excitement floods through his body in anticipation. Is it finally time to confess? His own eagerness catches him off-guard. He can’t. It’s too soon. He takes a few deep breaths to calm his nerves. Keep it together.

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

It’s been so long since the feeling of joy has drifted between these barren walls. You take a swig of your drink, exhaling happily through your nose as the sweet juice dances with the sting of the liquor, warming your chest as you swallow. Leaning back on the couch with one leg kicked up on the coffee table, you absentmindedly swirl your glass as you gaze at Suguru.

“I’m really happy to see that you’re doin’ better,” he muses, taking a sip before setting his cup down. You offer him a small nod paired with a gentle smile, looking back at the drink nestled between your fingers; the ice that’s creating condensation on the outside, the way the sun seeps between the half-open curtains in your living room, the cooing of birds just beyond your window panes. Quite frankly, you’re trying your hardest to focus on anything but him. Ignoring the thrum of your heart every time you look into his eyes, pretending the smooth cadence of his voice doesn’t make your body tremble. 

Say you do confess? What then? Is that really something you want, anyway? Or is it just nice to lust after someone? No, it’s not that. You really do love him. You haven’t even considered the possibility of him reciprocating these feelings, and odds are if he does, you’ll just run for the hills, not willing to open your heart up again. Your last relationship destroyed you. There’s no way you’ll allow someone to fill that void. Not with the possibility that it’ll all be a farce. 

After a moment of silence, you finally speak up. “Me, too. And it’s all thanks to you, Sugu.” You finally meet his gaze, and it’s as if his eyes are attempting to pierce through you with how intently he’s looking at you. His expression quirks as if to ask what you mean. You decide to test the waters a bit. Fuck it.

“You…you’ve made me feel…whole again,” your words come out a bit choppy and drawn out, still battling with your decision to come clean. Your eyes dart around his face before looking away once more. You fiddle with your fingers, unsure of if you want to elaborate. Even if you stop here, it’s okay. That’s a totally normal thing to say to a friend who helped you in your time of need.

Your head snaps toward him at the sound of your name. More is said, but you focus on the way he addresses you. He says it so softly, so gently, like the very syllables of your title grace his tongue as they sway from in between his vocal cords. For four years, your name was used against you, weaponized with anger and hatred. But his words are relayed to you with nothing but love behind them. 

Your ears are ringing as you stare at him blankly. You shake your head in hopes to clear the thoughts that are clouding it. “Wait…wha? What did you just say? The last part?”

“I said, it’s because I love you,” he smiles as he watches your face flush. Time slows as your heart rate speeds up. You brows furrow a bit, trying to piece together what the hell is going on.  A million thoughts spin through your head as you stare at him. “You…love…me? Like, in a ‘best friends’ kinda way, right?” You’re shocked as he shakes his head. “No. I love you, and I have for a while. In a more than friends kinda way,” he laughs a bit before leaning forward, reaching for your hand. “You love me, too. Don’t you?” 

“I-” your words get caught in your throat as his fingers rub against the back of your hand. As calm and collected as Suguru seems on the outside, he is spiraling on the inside. He isn’t sure where this newfound confidence is coming from, but he decides to roll with it. His heart thrums in his chest as he anxiously awaits your response. He has reached his tipping point, wanting nothing more than to finally be able to call you his.

You look down, staring at the place where the two of you meet, the feeling of electricity coursing through your body. A chill runs down your spine before you look back at him. “I-I do. I love you.” 

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

You’re laying on your back, your hair fanned out across the bed. Your arms are wrapped tight around his neck as he gently thrusts into you with slow, deep ruts of his hips. His head is tucked into the crook of your neck, his warm breath brushing across your sensitive skin. 

He leans back, looking down at you with a sweet smile, “You are so beautiful.” His eyes run up and down your body, taking in every dip and curve of your figure, before fixating on where the two of you meet. His lips part as he watches himself disappear inside of you, a deep moan breaking through his chest at the sight of your sweet juices coating his length. He rubs intricate circles into your clit, loving the way you sound as your body writhes under his touch.

Tears begin to pool behind your eyes as you gaze up at him, entranced by the way he manages to stimulate every sense in your body. This is what love truly feels like, bestowed upon you by a man who wants nothing more than to fulfill every facet of your life.

He presses his forehead against yours as he continues to pump into you, his movements influenced by nothing more than pure adoration.

The sun bounces off your features, illuminating your face in such an ethereal way. His breath catches in his throat as he watches the way the light makes your eyes glow. You are angelic in every sense of the word. Someone too pure for this realm, unfathomably delicate; sent to this world to be worshiped and protected.

“I love you. So much,” he groans. Every ounce of devotion he has for you is being pumped into your body with every plunge. It’s overwhelming for him. He's nearly bursting at the seams as he makes love to you, moving his hips so tantalizingly slow, but wanting to thrust into you with fervor, to pound the message into you that you are deserving of all love in the world, and that he will be the one to give it to you. But he takes his time, wanting nothing more than to savor you. 

Small whimpers break through your throat. “I…ahh!– I love you, S-Suguru,” you moan, whining as his head brushes into your sweet spot, making your back arch off the bed as your chest presses into his. The pleasure raking through you is immeasurable, every neuron in your brain firing off at once. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, desperate to feel every single part of him.

He cups the sides of your cheeks, brushing away your tears before placing two soft kisses over each eye. “Why’re you cryin’, my love?” he coos, concern evident on his face as he rubs his thumbs against your face. His hips pause as his eyes dart between yours. 

“Just…’m just so happy,” you whisper, scrunching your nose up with a small sniffle before placing a kiss on his lips. He smiles deeply before returning to his original pace.

“You deserve it...just wanna make you feel good, baby,” his hips press him into the deepest parts of you, rubbing against your sweet, gushing walls, but his pace remains deliberate. “You deserve all the pleasure in the world,” his teeth grit ever so slightly as he feels you clench down on him. “F-fuck, baby… fuck. You are just... incredible,” he groans, angling his hips to keep brushing against your g spot.

Even though you’ve had each other many times before, no other instance compares to the way you feel right now. Your body brimming with love, fulfillment…with him. His touch makes you feel reborn, like no one has ever hurt you before. His hands glide across your skin, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake, his unyielding passion evident in the way he clings to you, and you to him.

“Sugu…” you gasp as he bottoms out once more. Short pants leave your lips as you feel the tightness in your stomach intensify. “P-please, keep goin’...I’m…gonna cum,” you mewl. His hands reach underneath your body, palming each asscheek as he lifts your lower half off the bed. The new angle makes your eyes roll as stars begin to dance around your head. “Me too…y’feel so fuckin’ good.” The fiction of his pelvis against your clit shoots ripples of pleasure through you. Your nails drag down his back in an attempt to ground yourself, but to no avail. This feels otherworldly. His pace picks up a bit, pushing you to unravel, your body succumbing to bliss. The warmth that engulfs his lengths makes him reach his peak right after you, his hips stuttering as he works you both through your orgasms.

He props himself up on his forearms, making a conscious effort to not collapse on you and crush you with his body weight, though you would most definitely welcome it. He watches as your chest rises and falls, every soft pant that leaves your lips like music to his yearning ears. He can’t bring himself to pull out, loving the way your walls are still spasming around him. You stare into his eyes for a moment, running your fingers down his spine. A gentle moment of silence settles between to two of you. No words are spoken, but they don't need to be. 

He begins to get up, but your legs lock around his waist immediately, resheathing him inside of you. “Baby–”, he begins to object, but your arms wrap around his shoulders once more, pulling him down as you kiss the spot below his ear, “Jus’ a few more minutes. Love having you like this.”

A deep chuckle rumbles from his chest as he smiles into the crook of your neck. “You keep this up and we might just have to go again.”

And you do. For hours and hours, attempting to make up for all the years wasted. Your two souls engaging in the most mesmerizing dance. He is determined to replace all the heartache you feel with pleasure. And he does. You feel nothing but him. And he can’t focus on anything other than you. Rolling around together until the golden hue of the setting sun shifts into a light pink as it rises above the horizon. But it feels like no time has passed at all. 

Suguru draws soft circles into your skin, holding you tight against his sweat-glistened chest. Your body trembles from the copious amount of pleasure coursing through you. A gentle peck is placed on the top of your head before he looks toward the ceiling. A sense of contentment washes over him, dancing with the soft pulse of his many orgasms still reverberating through his body. After years of waiting, you are finally his, and he is determined to grant you your well-deserved peace.

Dawning a robe, you sit on your balcony, listening to the birds sing you their habitual 'good morning'. The door slides open behind you, and Suguru takes a seat, presenting you with a cup of tea. A quiet thank you leaves your lips as the two of you take in the scenery before you. 

“We should probably get some sleep now, huh?” You ask, turning to him as you take a sip, smiling at the fact that he knows exactly how you take your tea. But, of course he does. It’s Suguru. 

He grins, “No…I don’t want to leave this moment behind just yet.” You blush, reaching your hand out to grasp his. 

“Me neither.”

In his eyes, you are precious, the most important person in his life. The deep-rooted fear of not being worthy of love is disproven in the form of Suguru’s undying loyalty to you. He has waited years to be with you, and he would have waited years more. And as the two of you sit together, with your fingers intertwined and heartbeats in sync, you know there is nowhere else you want to be…no one else you want to be with. An unfamiliar feeling of safety creeps into your chest. You’re in good hands now.

Maybe opening yourself back up to love wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.

author notes: this fic is incredibly self-serving...but i really needed this. i just want a pretty boy named suguru to save me from the heartache i feel rn ugh

my reqs are closed at the moment, but thirsts and chats are always welcome !!

alsoooo !! i just wanted to send out a big big thank you for 700 followers...im literally in shock i cannot believe it. im spinning around my room rn just thinking abt it. yall are amazing n i appreciate every single one of you 🫶🏼

tag list: @anxious-chick @call-memissbrightside @the-weeb-of-the-uchiha @sadmonke

likes, reblogs, and comments are always greatly appreciated !!

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𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎

Satoru Gojo

Summary: Satoru struggles with his two babies.

Warnings: Pure Fluff

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*I used the two babies from baby steps for this, but you don't have to read to enjoy the fluffy oneshot🥹

“C’mon, Seiji. Vegetables are so good. yummy.” Satoru is trying to bribe his almost-two-year-old into eating the rest of his food, alas, he doesn’t sound too convincing. He tasted the vegetables, they aren’t too good but you cooked them so he isn’t going to bash them. Seiji really doesn’t care about not hurting anybody’s feelings at this stage of his life, so even though his dearest mother made them, he refuses to eat them.

Satoru sighs defeatedly, putting the fork down. He guesses Seiji doesn’t have to eat vegetables every day to grow strong. He picks Seiji up from the high chair, putting him down on the ground to allow him to walk around and do whatever he likes to do. Lately Seiji loves to play with any piece of trash he finds, making Satoru realize that he’s wasted thousands of dollars on toys.

“Don’t be too loud! Don’t wake your sister up.” Satoru yells, knowing that Seiji really doesn’t care about that. The baby only has one thought in his mind and that’s to play with whatever he gets his hands on. 

Satoru really thought that handling two babies under two would be a breeze, he’s the strongest, he can accomplish just about anything… But his two kids tire him out. Saori cries so much that he anticipates in horror the moment that she wakes up. Seiji never stops moving, it’s nearly impossible to get him to stand still for a moment. He loves his babies more than anything, but he’s rightfully tired.

Satoru is being the best husband that he can be by taking care of his babies while you study and finish up your degree. But two tiny humans are slowly ending his life. Satoru follows Seiji around, deciding to just let him wander around the house because Seiji hates to be put in his playpen lately.

“Dada.” Seiji points up when he gets to the stairs, looking back at his father. Satoru shakes his head, picking up Seiji and taking him back to the living room so he can find something there that he can engross himself with. Seiji makes sure to let out a dramatic cry because he hates being carried and contradicted. He doesn’t want to go to the living room, he wants to go upstairs.

“Crying isn’t going to do anything, baby. You’re staying down here.” Satoru says as he carries Seiji away. Seiji makes sure to yell,

“Down! Down!” Which actually works on Satoru today because he doesn’t want Seiji to wake up the sleeping baby. When his tiny feet hit the ground, Seiji begins to run around which isn’t really an issue for Satoru since he only has to take two steps to catch up to Seiji.

It’s boring, really, but he prefers walking after his toddler better than trying to entertain both babies while they’re awake. Seiji doesn’t care for his parents' attention until Saori is awake; when she’s awake he wants to become the center of attention.

Satoru really thinks he’s safe, until he hears her cries from upstairs, and the loudest sigh leaves his lips. He picks Seiji up, making him kick his feet and cry, demanding that he’s put down. Luckily for him, his father listens to his wishes and puts him down. Unluckily for him, he’s put down in the playpen that lately feels like a prison. 

“No! Out!” Seiji demands, but Satoru doesn’t listen. He leaves Seiji there while he goes upstairs to pick up Saori from her crib.

When he gets there, he notices his baby girl is sitting up, waiting for him to finally pick her up. He coos, approaching the crib and picking her up, “Hi my sunshine. Did you sleep well?”

She doesn’t stop crying so easily though. He changes her diaper, and the crying gets worse. He tickles her tummy, laughing to himself, “Aren’t you a hungry girl? You ate one hour ago too.”

He guesses he can’t blame her, a bottle of milk wouldn’t be enough to hold him over either… But he guesses he’s four times her size and two decades older than her. He exits the room, getting more irritated by the second with the crying baby that’s in his arms. 

He begins to walk down the stairs, and that’s when he sees a little rascal holding to the railing and trying to walk upstairs. His eyes widen, his first thought being: how the hell did Seiji escape his playpen? Seiji finally looks up, seeing his father at the top of the stairs. He lets go of the railing, his hands going over his tiny mouth, his signature move for when he gets caught.

Satoru watches it happen in slow motion. Seiji’s tiny feet on the edge of the stair, he tips over and falls back from the stairs until he’s back on the first floor again. At least Seiji was only on the third stair up so it wasn’t a long fall– However, he cries his heart out as if he was at the very top.

“Seiji, how the hell did you even get out of the playpen?” Satoru is reasonably angry because he has two crying kids to soothe on his own. He doesn’t want to bother you while you study so it’s his problem, and only his. He doesn’t know which problem to tend to first. 

Satoru just knows one thing, and he hates thinking about it, but he wouldn’t be dealing with any of this if he had used a condom.

tojis fav part of his day has to be when he gets those little videos from you of you and the kids. he had a whole album dedicated to it and sometimes will stop what he’s doing to watch one of the video.

the one you sent today has to be his favorite. it’s a cute little video of megumi trying to eat your face.

“toji your son won’t stop trying to eat me.” you said through giggles while looking at him through the screen. then you flipped the camera and baby megumi was in his little blue onesie propped up on the bottoms of your feet with your legs in the air while trying to reach for something. he was trying to reach for you.

he was babbling nonsense to you as you laughed but your laughter turned to noises of concern when megumi started to lean forward and fell on you. “oh sh—megs are you okay?” you asked. toji laughs extra hard at that because of how quick you were going to curse but took it back. you didn’t want to put anything in the swear jar.

megumi didn’t say anything and just hiked his way up until he was on your chest. he look at the camera with his wide dark eyes and you looked at the camera too but your laughs came back once megumi opened his toothless mouth wide and put it on your cheek.

he began to make raspberries all over your face while trying to bite the fat of your face but clearly it wasn’t working. he even grabbed hold of your head to get a better chance but it didn’t seem to work. “megs! you’re getting drool all on me.” you laughed loudly and wait, this is toji’s favorite part.

when you realized it was too quite for a house of two kids. “wait, tsumiki what are you doing?” you asked grabbing megumi and pulling him off you ignoring the wet spot on your face as you stood up. you walked through the house to try and find the little girl and she was on the kitchen floor with flour practically nowhere else but on her.

“oh tsumiki…haha!” you said starting to laugh at the situation as megumi sat on your hip confused but beginning to leave toothless bites on your shoulder. you kneeled and showed tsumiki in the camera “say hi to daddy…” you muttered barely able to get your words out because of your laughter.

tsumiki smiled with her face covered in flour and waved “hi daddy.” you laughed even more at this and then looked at the camera “okay bye toji we have to clean this up.” throughout the whole day that was the one thing that stayed in his mind. his wife and his messy children.