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ikemenomegas · 1 year

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Omega!Fukuzawa x Alpha!Reader

Maybe Every After

For the record Fukuzawa is a zaddy and I don't think anyone is going to argue with me on that. But he wasn't always a zaddy! You have to grow up a lot to earn the title and Fukuzawa had a lot of growing up to do even in his thirties.

Meet cute?-

Fukuzawa met the person who would become his Alpha at some stuffy local function he attended because of his status as one of the five greatest swordsmen.

While they hit it off well, commiserating over the oppressive self-congratulatory nature of these kinds of events, it was not love at first sight. Fukuzawa was able to carry on pleasant, engaging conversation with them

Fukuzawa was by turns a little awkward, eccentric, curious, and the sense of duty, justice and good judgment that characterizes his throughout his life permeated the conversation, leaving a lasting impression on you

Fukuzawa's work and his superiors are all top secret, but despite that, he does not try to make himself come off as an enigma and his intentions and ideology are largely transparent, which in the time of the Great War, the first ability war, and with Fukuzawa's position being what it was, was surprising and refreshing

You meet with him a few times as new friends in between whatever it is he does when he's not with you

Some time after those meetings begin would be around the time that he is ordered to begin assassinating war-hawk ministers

You see him change as those assassinations pile up and see him apparently lose the feeling of rightness that was in him when you first met at that party

He disappears soon after resigning his position in this mission, cutting himself off from the world that had descended into the misery and chaos of war, from the deaths he had caused, and from you, the person who had become important when he was still young and full of naive idealism

Meet again-

It's by chance you meet again when he is spending his work hours as a bodyguard.

Or maybe it's not chance. It's a certain circle of people that can afford the services of someone as skilled as Fukuzawa, as much as he tries to keep apart from those kinds of people. His reputation took a hit after he left his government position, although you don't know the circumstances around his departure, but people say it's because he isn't a patriot. The word makes you disappointed. The are parts of every war that are not about patriotism, where blood is no longer spilled for the love of one's country but because there are those who have lost their way.

Reconnecting is hard but maybe because you understand the rumors this way, it is not as hard as it might have been. Fukuzawa Yukichi is loyal, that you have known almost since you met him. He is loyal to the people who walk down the street and do not know him, he is loyal to all the people of the nation who make their way slowly through life alongside him, he is loyal to some ideal of justice that you don't necessarily understand but that you believe in too. You see sometimes the pain that the rumors cause him, but you believe in him, whatever that might mean, and so he lets the pain wash over him and away in the truth of his intact honor

It comes up at some point that you are still not a mated Alpha. There is no one else waiting for you as your tea times meeting with Fukuzawa continue. It just hadn't felt right, somehow, to try and make that kind of connection in the years that have passed. The great war turned everything upside down, including something inside of your good and most principled friend.

One day, he'll tell you about it, about what turned his heart inside out, but that is many years in the future

For now, you're the one who asks him if he wants to meet and restart first

He seems tired and you're surprised that he accepts, but he does. Once. And then twice. And then a third time. And it's almost like it used to be, even though you're both older and a bit more jaded, maybe with a few more hard edges. The meetings extend longer, and become more frequent. It is no longer tea on his days off or when he has time between jobs. There are late night meals after his employer dismisses him and lunches on the occasions he is released early. On one memorable occasion, you find yourself taking an early morning walk through a dew studded garden watching the sun rise pink and cold after a night on which you could not sleep

One thing led to another-

Eventually, Fukuzawa asks you to be his heat partner. It's a bit of a surprise and something that makes you nervous since Fukuzawa effectively ignored you for years.

You had once slept together in what was essentially a platonic way, or perhaps some kind of experiment. It was fine, oddly peaceful, especially at the end when you just passed a bottle of water back and forth, but you'd sort of wordlessly agreed to not do it again

He tells you he's sure though. His heats aren't frequent because he's on suppressants, but they do happen, and this is one of the different things. Fukuzawa seems to want, to have a restlessness that is more apparent to you, lingering beneath the surface

You already suspect it's the loss of purpose, the loss of public reputation somehow which had carried with it its own sense of purpose. He's a famous swordsman, one of the best in the country. Even a tame wolf desires to hunt.

So you spend his breakthrough heats together.

And you remember why the two of you never had sex after the first time. It makes you wonder if you remember the "silent agreement" wrong, or if he remembers it differently, and reminds you why you didn't dwell on it.

It's not earth shattering, the sex that is. It's just heat sex, just making sure he gets off so that he can sleep through the intervals between his body temperature spiking. Except you're in his home, the gauzy curtains drawn, scent patches off, and it's disturbing how clear the memory of the last time overlaps with this one, even after so many years.

It's like being in the middle of a monsoon storm, pressure and torn leaves, and summer heat and all. And while you thrust into his wanting body, he watches you. The heat-haze is obvious and his eyes are half-lidded in the associated exhaustion, but he tracks you when you lean back to swipe the back of your hand over your forehead and there's something hungry in his gaze when he looks down to where you're connected

You remember the first time and how intrigued you'd been by this particular mannerism of his, how he keeps his eyes open. He had been watchful and curious even as you'd laughed with him over your shared fumblings. His gaze had been heavy and consuming when he'd shown his aikido skills, at your request, and tumbled you from over him to pin you to the floor.

This time there's a lot more kissing because if you're close to his face, you don't have to see his eyes, but the way Fukuzawa opens his mouth for you with trust like you've been doing this for years makes the strategy nearly futile.

You have to work right after that first heat tapers off so he's still in his nest when you're putting on your shoes, weekend duffel in your hands.

It's late afternoon going on evening so the apartment is dark. His hair is splayed out on a pillow. You're satisfied though that he has pre-made meals in the fridge and you've changed out most of his nest bedding so he can rest in a clean spot after you've gone. Fukuzawa's not saying anything, watching while you rub a sore spot on your neck, which makes him smirk. You're convinced this will be another scenario just like last time where you don't talk about it, when he speaks up, stopping your hand on the doorknob. "Same in three months?" he asked instead. Despite the stab of apprehension, you smiled. "Same in three months," and left to catch a flight.

You don't let it get quite that long before you contact him again. You don't see him, but you text him and he texts back, which is at least a relief that he's not going to vanish again into whatever new twilight he inhabits.

It's the same in three months, apart from the weather outside. His eyes, blue like steel and watching you while you bring him over the edge, the sense of being in the eye of a summer storm, that feeling of trusting familiarity when you lick into his mouth and catch the sound he makes when you crook your fingers inside him. It's the same how it's only his response that changes when you kiss him later and are more gentle about it, running your teeth against his jaw before going to cradling his head and kissing the corner of his mouth.

There's laundry in the machine and porridge on the stove. Fukuzawa's heat had settled sometime in the very early hours of the morning and the two of you were more or less clothed for the first time in days. Fukuzawa was however leaning in the door, watching you put shredded seaweed, pickled plums, and katsuo tronçons on small plates already laid out on a tray. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, watching him almost lazily watch you. But, you paused in using a pair of chopsticks to pluck out a single ginko nut from a narrow jar. There was something almost tense in his posture. He was barely out of the thick of heat and you could see the faint tremble in his wrist before he folded his arms to hide it. You checked the pot with the still yet-to-boil rice and then ducked under his jaw to brush your nose against the scent gland there. The way he shivered, still sensitive, was almost enough to make you feel bad. "You should go lie down," you murmured, smiling in apology, "I'll bring the tray over." He hesitated, but then nodded. Something pulled at you behind your navel, similar to that familiar sensation when you had worked him through the heat. Only this time, out of the haze, you followed it and followed Fukuzawa to his nest. Its fresh linens were soft and sweet smelling as you guided him into it. He sighed when he was lying down again, a long exhale that gave nothing away. He was just watching. You tucked a blanket over his hips and let your hand linger a touch too long, feeling like you were falling into his eyes. He made no sound when you pulled away and did not return until the meal was ready. Although you did stand in the doorway he had just vacated, leaning so you could see Fukuzawa, loosely tied deep blue and light grey layers of his yukata falling half open as he rolled over to keep you within line of sight. He ate every bite of food, still maintaining that tense, anticipatory silence. You didn't remember this from the first time. His gaze only flickered from the tray and your hands to your eyes when you accidentally let out an encouraging rumble as he ate and immediately felt heat flash up your neck, mortified. The corner of his mouth twitched as he brought his chopsticks to his lips and nibbled at a bit of fish. You've read romance books, once or twice, seen the pervasive tropes pop up in just about every drama, imported or otherwise. People talk about finding someone that you feel you've known your whole life as something magical. No one talks about how unsettling it can be, how it could get all consuming all too quickly. It's disturbing in some way, the way you can sense the ease with which that could push into entitlement, envy, or just an endless fall. That is why after the first time you and Fukuzawa Yukichi had slept together, passing a bottle of water back and forth after and watching the rim indent into one another's lips when you took a mouthful, throats flexing to swallow, you had never spoken of the event again. You had never invited it happening again, and up until now neither had he. There's something at the bottom of that drop. There's always a hard landing. Somewhere. It felt too easy, being with him. You had fallen in as friends harder than this, feeling out the edges of one anothers' code and ethics, where you could push boundaries into asking about personal and professional interests. Although you never touch them, you knew where one anothers' cracks were.

Just as you never asked him directly about the things he had done in the war, about his suddenly cold reception among the circle you'd met in, he never asked you how you really felt about those people. He never asked if your heart too had broken somewhere during the Great Ability War. The stifling feeling of knowing both too much and too little about someone who trusted you far too much for what you knew suddenly stole all the moisture from your throat. A sip of tea helped, but Fukuzawa's posture had gone back to that waiting. Master swordsman: master at reading any opponent. You told yourself heavily that you were perfectly willing to continue being his heat partner, at least until the way you two distinctly did not push boundaries bored him. He had a competitive spirit to a point. There were goalposts that only he could see, standards to which others were not often held. Stagnancy had never quite suited him. Stillness did. Was that what was at the bottom? Was it the stagnant life of saying nothing and doing nothing and keeping a status quo? Or was it blissful stillness, knowing nothing would catch you and nothing needed to?

It takes almost a year for either of you to bring it up and it's only at the cusp of realizing this is becoming an unhealthy new normal that it happens. It is still incredibly difficult to broach the fact that the physical intimacy makes you feel like strangers but every conversation in between makes you feel like you could get to know him forever.

It's around this time you finally start to really talk. You know how you can know someone for ages, and even be really close to them, but there are long stretches of time where you don't talk about anything important because you're afraid of making the other person do emotional labor for you, and you don't know if they'll mind? That's the first year Fukuzawa and his Alpha have after he comes back.

He acknowledges that you've done things rather in reverse order, as far as the typical trajectory of reconnecting with friends goes. You start to date, more or less, making time to see one another every week or every other week as your schedules allow.

It's a bit strange, to suddenly realize the ways in which you both have changed. Fukuzawa is as principled as ever, but he's unmoored now, without the ties he severed to the military police and the mission it brought. You are somewhat more stable, older and more settled into your own career, but heavier in your soul, sadder. Yokohama is reviving, black towers and tidy apartment buildings rising on the horizon, but it took too much to get here, too much blood before the nation sickened of it.

Fukuzawa won't let you court him.

You're in one of the old cafes that survived all the conscriptions. The owner's son moves around with a tray and a flour dusted apron and the atmosphere is oddly cheerful, despite the recently terrible weather. The last of the summer storms are making a good showing this year and it's limited the places you and Fukuzawa can go. Museums, restaurants, the occasional wander around a particularly well constructed public part of an office building - usually places near your work or his.

You'd tried other things, shopping for food or clothes and paying maybe too much attention to his preferences. You'd tried things like flower viewing or afternoons trying wagashi in specialty shops. While Fukuzawa had seemed to enjoy them and settled easily into the traditional etiquette sometimes called for in these places, he never acknowledged that these might be early attempts at courting.

When you spent time in his apartment he let you scent items in his nest while lounging around or before his heats. If he was at the little rooftop house you were living in, he would sometimes choose one pillow or blanket to curl around and carefully leave it on your spot on the couch when he left.

You looked at him over the rim of your mug and one of his brows went up. When you said nothing, he looked away, tracking the movements of people on the street.

You still partner him when his heat hits, but the sex is worse, as far as that unsettlingly settled intimacy goes. It's wonderful, he's wonderful. Sex itself is not that interesting as a rule, and you're both too aware of the delicacy of the situation to attempt anything like adding toys during his heat or a simple scene to the build up or cool down. But every time after, you want to stay longer.

Fukuzawa shifts his nest, ever so slightly because he is picky about it, but enough so that he can always see you as you move about his home when you need to get food or nesting materials for him, so that you don't have to anxiously flit between the stove and the door in order to sate the need to know that he is safe and comfortable in the aftermath.

You think it's going to end, that the pained distance Fukuzawa now puts between himself and the world is going to pull taught against the growing need to be around one another, to care beyond the dedication of a close intimate friendship.

Everyone can see it-

And then he accidentally adopts a super genius.

This is one of the funnier things that's ever happened to your friend since you've known him and you make sure he knows you think so once or twice.

Once Ranpo is secure in his place as Fukuzawa's ward a few years later, you come up with a way to let Ranpo know he's the best thing to ever happen to your mate and also that you will never ever get tired of imagining the look of shock you know took over Fukuzawa's face when all four and a half feet of teenage whoop-ass came banging through the door of that office.

But that's years from now.

Ranpo peers up at you when you meet Fukuzawa for lunch and a film a week after he's started tagging along with your friend

The boy isn't very tall, but he's got a maturity to his features that you chalk up to either the orphan thing or the child genius thing. He had taken one look at you, seated at the back of the restaurant away from the windows, and it felt like someone crowding into your space even while he touched neither you nor Fukuzawa. You are perhaps overly sensitive of other people's attention. It's another thing that makes being with Fukuzawa comfortable somehow. He's observant, but not oppressive with what he does with that information. Only the second time you'd met he'd helped extricate you from an incredibly uncomfortable conversation with a junior minister in the local commerce department. Now the kid looks at you and at Fukuzawa and pouts impressively. "You're single." He says it like an accusation and an assignment and you could almost laugh at Fukuzawa's wide eyed expression if it weren't for everyone three tables deep around you staring. You raise an eyebrow at him. "He's allowed to be single," you chide, reminding yourself that you are talking to a child still. It's a bit funny, you admit, smiling when the boy glares at you. The waitress comes over when you beckon, bringing tea for Fukuzawa and a sweet layered sort of beverage for the kid. Fukuzawa had told you about the boy's obvious sweet tooth and even though he huffs at you, he takes the tall glass eagerly, poking a straw through the layers. "Does it bother you?" You can't help it. Fukuzawa had said the child was a genius, observant to the point of misunderstanding, his incredible intelligence looping in on itself and making the rest of the world occasionally incomprehensible. It seems unlikely for a child to hold the kind of incredibly conservative prejudice that says omegas should be mated, but he seems put out. Ranpo sulks behind a menu before saying, "I'm never wrong." The meal is quiet, and gradually people stop looking at your table. Fukuzawa excuses himself on the walk to the theater to purchase something from a convenience store. It's there you lean up against the mouth of an alley and look down at the kid. He's really short, you worry someone isn't feeding him enough and the realize that Fukuzawa is going to be that someone. "We're not together," you said. Ranpo looks up at you, clearly still sulking. "You don't have to lie to me," he says, but he sounds a little uncertain. "We're not together in the way you would understand it," you say, "or the way most people understand." Ranpo sees your emotions in your eyes, and suddenly wishes he didn't understand. Your gaze is filled with longing, but he doesn't know how you can't see it's for something you already have. Almost. "He's ashamed of something," Ranpo says quietly. You hunched over a little. "I know. Adults are often ashamed of a lot of things though." He looks at you and wonders what you're ashamed of. "You should probably ask him about this one. He's not very good at saying what he means, but most adults aren't." You're laughing when Fukuzawa reappears.

To everyone's surprise, he actually sits through the movie, happily demolishing the little fortune you'd bought him in caramel popcorn and boxed candies, even if he complains about figuring out the plot five minutes in when you leave

Ranpo doesn't parent trap you two exactly, he doesn't have quite that level of interest in involving himself, but Fukuzawa is good to him, and he sees you often and you are good to him too. Neither of you always understand what he understands, but you show him kindness without ulterior motive, you try and show him how to safely exist around other people.

Fukuzawa is asked to be a bodyguard for Mori Ougai and something about engaging with that man, even though he can't tell you about the job itself, makes him tell you, in a desperate whisper under the moonlight, that it was him who assassinated the war hawk ministers during the peace debates. It's him who is bloodying his blade for something he hopes will be better, even if it turns his stomach, even if it means he doesn't know who he is anymore.

"I know who you are." Fukuzawa tenses in your arms, and you think frantically that you have certainly made a mistake. But you don't take it back. You don't want to. You do know who he is, your friend. You know how lonely what he's done has made him. Only you didn't know what he had done. Now that you know, it doesn't seem to matter. It's distant, the way all bloody things are distant when you don't see them. You've never had all that fond a feeling towards the wealthy people that profit from the abject misery of others. All the hunger and desperation in the world are distant, abstract concepts to them. Why should their deaths not mean the same to you? Of course, you can't say this to your friend, your sometimes lover, lying in your arms. The moonlight drops over his cheeks, turning them pale. His eyes are closed for once, his face turned into your neck, as though he is afraid of what he will see in your eyes. You understand it was not simply one or two storybook villains. There is no human in the world who has done only bad their entire life. Fukuzawa was not prone to exaggeration, even if drama appealed to him. It seems likely he meant it literally when he speaks of wading through blood to put an end to those who whipped up the populace into a frenzy, who wanted for the death never to end. "I know." You stroke your thumb near the corner of his eye, brushing your cheek to his brow, pressing a chaste kiss to the curve of his cheek. "Honor doesn't always mean doing the honorable thing," you say softly. "It means making difficult choices. You regret having to make it, but do you regret the outcome?" He is quiet for a long time. You know he hasn't fallen back asleep, despite the languid warmth between your bodies. He's quiet for long enough that your heart rate returns to normal and you rub your knuckles up and down his back. An occasional burst of deep, faint purring lets you know this is at least appreciated, if not necessarily something he thinks he deserves. You've taken to sleeping together at this point. The mounting danger as different organizations wage new war across the city drives you both to it. Besides, it is simply easier to manage an antsy teenager if you're in the same place, wherever that might be, rather than passing him back and forth like the result of some amicable divorce as you both work to keep him safe and out of the hands of those who would use his intelligence. "No," he says, as you knew he would. "There is nothing to be attained in the way of peace by letting war simply continue until each side is beaten into exhaustion. Withdrawing with our strength intact is the only thing that would save the nation and its people." He says it like he's said it to himself many times. He goes nearly limp in your embrace, pliant as he nudges against you until your forehead is pressed to his. You wonder though- "Is this the first time you've said it out loud?" "What I did is a secret few are aware of." "But the investigations..." "They won't find me," he said, but you felt a shiver go through him, felt gooseflesh rise on his arms. If they did, it could open the possibility for those people to be made martyrs. It was natural for him to be afraid. "They won't," you said lightly. You didn't know what you could do to make that true, but some things needed to be said aloud. "If they catch me, I'll face whatever is decided," he said quietly. "But I won't get caught." "You saved a lot of lives." He sighed. "I know." You rubbed slow circles over the middle of his back. "The sword isn't meant to be used like that. They had lives, families, I-" he swallowed "-I ended that. I enjoyed it. And I have to live with that." His eyelashes too were silvered in the moonlight. "You have to live with it," you agreed, even as he flinched, "but you don't have to punish yourself for it every time you live." You pretend not to feel the wetness on your clothing as Fukuzawa shudders into your collar.

Forever love-

You're truly together and officially courting by the time the Agency is three years old, which is the first more calm year since the Agency opened. Turns out opening a business is a huge pain in the behind and that an ability user Agency with less than half a dozen workers, two of whom are genius teenagers who have totally reasonable problems with authority, is an even bigger pain.

By the time the Agency is four years old, you're mated to Fukuzawa, your mark on his shoulder and his on yours. Ranpo grouches something terrible that the two of you could only get your shit together before he turned eighteen, but he's not a legal adult yet, so you get to officially be one of his guardians for at least a few years. Yosano thinks Ranpo is being ridiculous, but she gives you the biggest bouquet of flowers for your and Fukuzawa's home and insists on choosing the restaurant where you all celebrate.

It's been a very long road. You've known Fukuzawa Yukichi for almost thirteen years, an unexpected friend you made in your adult years now your mate. Now someone who you feel, finally, you've started to earn the feeling you've know them all your life, even though you're still learning about him.

He takes you to his home near Osaka, to his family home on Kyushu. He meets your parents, who consider him a bit quiet, but very dutiful. You meet Natsume-sensei, once, and receive his very feline brand of approval and a quiet gift after your official mating. Fukuzawa takes you back to places he particularly enjoyed during those failed months of courting him. You spend season after season getting to know him, pushing boundaries, debating over philosophies, arguing over interior decorating, agreeing over meals.

Your mate, your partner, a soulmate if you have ever believed such a thing, let alone that it would come to you. You're watching white strands of hair like starlight shoot through his natural grey. The wrinkles around his eyes are deepening. It takes him longer to get up from bed than it used to. His silences are longer, but so are the times when he just looks at you, looks and looks like he can never get his fill. His voice is still strong, but you can feel that layer of age crackling under it. And you love him.

You love the man he has grown into, the one who can bear the weight of hard choices placed upon his shoulders, the one who can bear happily having people who work alongside him. You love his patience with Ranpo and his encouragement of Akiko. You love how he holds his hand out for you if you fall behind on your walks, or how he comes to you and stands close enough for his scent to wrap around you while you point out some small natural beauty.

Love can be horribly consuming, it can stagnate where it was once immediately comfortable or grow jealous at its own ease, unsure if it is charm or affection that ties you together. It can grow desperate and possessive. There are still things that can be so hard to say, old things that left old wounds that are still hard to talk about, but there's something to be said for age and wisdom.

Things aren't perfect, love should not be perfect, and something in you delights in knowing that with Fukuzawa it will always be incomplete. Things will not grow still, there will never be a moment there is nothing to know about him. You have grown into yourselves, the both of you, and this is the love you will grow old with.

#bsd #fukuzawa yukichi #fukuzawa x reader #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o #omegaverse #omega!fukuzawa #alpha!reader #io.omegas #cw: mentions of potential break up (they don't but there's major relationship growing pains)#cw: oc's and fukuzawa's anxiety #cw: mentions of great ability war and likely ptsd in fukuzawa but also probably oc and ranpo #cw: adopting a child? does that deserve a cw? no idea but ranpo is fukuzawa and oc's love child in all but actual physical truth.#I think Alpha low key adopts Yosano too #baby Alpha is their very adopted kid. Yosano was practically raised by Mori (shudders)#so Alpha is very much the foster parent #she's way more independent and suspicious of being coddled compared to ranpo who wants to be mentored/parented #happy return of bsd this is literally my favorite show sorry to everyone who already wants me to shut up about it

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angorwhosebabyisthis · 5 months

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this rewatch of sdmi has so far been a combination of skipping around and watching straight through from the beginning, and my feelings are increasingly that shaggy, daphne, and marcie are precious and oh my god someone please get these poor kids away from everyone else in this cast

#sdmi #scooby doo mystery incorporated #marcie fleach #shaggy rogers #daphne blake #they're not perfect by any means; but they're also not *abusive controlling assholes* and they all really go through the wringer #daphne and shaggy's arcs especially are really rough to watch #scooby fred and velma all have their issues but they need to deal with them *miles* away from these three #including keeping velma away from marcie; because sure they're cute high school wlw holding hands now #but once the honeymoon phase is over the abuse *will* come out; that is how it goes; kind of infamously so #velma deals with her issues through being abusive and that does not go away because she's on a new relationship high #with someone who hasn't stepped out of line in specific ways she feels entitled to punish and control yet #this poor kid has been through enough even in the new timeline man give her a break :(((#and that's not even going into the horror story that is daphne ending up with fred; or shaggy's closest connection continuing to be scooby #anyway i will protect these three with my life someone help them #abuse cw #domestic violence implied cw #SDMItag

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fyodorkitkat · 4 months

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Going into 2024 with a respect for what I've lost but hope for roads ahead 🙏💜

#this year was rough but what i found myself thinking about mostly this morning was my late friend tammy. and then subsequently everyone #else ive lost in the past few years #yes things were difficult with relationships jobs general life things. a lot of things changed for me in the last months as well that #were out of my control and because of that infuriated me #and i found myself thinking about what tammy would have probably said to me if she had been alive and in her right mind while i was going #through all of these things #and she would have said 'shut the fuck up jay. if you're telling me this then you're fine and you got to make it. you got to be here so #yell if you want to break some shit if you need to. but just keeping looking forward'#she said things similar to me before so it is like i heard it in her raspy yet lilted voice. anyways this is getting really sentimental #and personal but. i wont tempt things saying 2024 will be great for me. but at the very least i have hope i can make it what i #need it to be. no matter what ends up happening #if you read this ty and sry sry. i hope you have a nice start to your new year and plenty of calm vibes this year #-pers #-cw death mention #but it is in the tags #also super secret lue lore with a prev name drop but i wasnt thinking about that idc yall can know one of my old ones im not editing it

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arthur-r · 3 months

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my partner broke up with me last night and the first thing my mom asked was if it’s because he wanted to be with a “boy boy”

#anyway i’m so fucking normal. i’m so fucking normal #we’re actually going to still be friends but it’s still kind of shit #because it’s not fun to get broken up with. if you can believe it #he just didn’t like me that way anymore which. to each their own #(i fucking said that out loud he said ‘‘i still like spending time with you i just don’t like holding you anymore’’#and i said ‘‘well to each their own!!’’)#(because i am insane and strange. and because he broke up with me after i took my fucking sleep meds)#but anyway i’m being so normal about it. but my mom calling me to comfort me did not fucking work #when her first question is ‘‘oh it’s because you’re trans right?? cause nobody loves you’’#but whatever. he was SO good at breaking up with me so whatEVER #he was nice about it. and you can’t force somebody to be attracted to you and it’s not like it’s better to be in a doomed relationship #and i’m not here to vent. well like i am a little bit but just about my mom shdhdf #i don’t know. think i’m gonna sleep for a while now maybe!! but text me if you need anything #me. my post. mine.#delete later #friends only #vent cw #transphobia cw #?#like if read

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aceyanaheim · 1 year

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thinggs i could write an essay about: Debbie defending Fiona from Lip after Fi agreed to let her get married bc "she ( Fi) didn't ask to play mom either"

#Debbies Aware that Fiona raised them and she's Aware of how Frank and Monica fucked them over #and she DOES see Fi as a mother figure but she also understands Fionas human but shes also FIFTEEN with attachment issues and angry about #things she cant verbalized and resentful that FIona is also a kid and all that brings #but Shes the one telling Lip 'Fi didnt ask to play mom either' like she Gets Fiona wanting to break away and im #i wish to put them under a microscope #i wish to pin them to a corkboard like a very interesting bug #ITS ABOUT THE FRAUGHT SIBLING RELATIONSHIPS #caps cw #lol #ohyeah #Acey watches #Shameless #Also Lip Struggling bc whenever Fiona tries to put herself first he has to pick up the slack #and even if he Wants to be happy for her hes not Used to it #he was so unaware of just Everything Fiona did #and he cant help but resent that if she gets some freedom or self imprivement it means He gets some responsability by consequence #andhow they both pull together ( and Debs too ) to talk to Carl even when they're bumping heads likje that aah #don't look at me #im normal about the Gallaguer siblings #yup compeletely normal

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e-m-p-error · 1 year

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[ Closed EVENT Starter For @notxyourxdevilxdoll ]

[ Valentino ]

It had been explosive. It always was. It had been a spectacle. It always was. It had been deep, it had been violent, and it had been personal. It always was. But this time, there was no dramatic musical number. No vehement denial of how much fun they may have had.

There had been no fun.

Whenever it started, it was always Valentino. He'd not only hurled his favorite crystal ashtray (filled with cigarettes and ashes as it was), but he'd been just shy of missing. There had been tears, and harsher words than usual, and he was lost when Vox stormed out. If someone had asked him what all he'd said, he couldn't tell them.

Valentino was prone to saying shit he didn't mean when he was angry, even more so when he was drunk. And he was always prone to fits of rage. Vox knew these things about him, and he knew that Valentino hated being brushed off for work. Again.

So often, that was their reason for fighting. Valentino wasn't getting the attention that he wanted, and Vox had his work to do.

As much as Vox knew that Valentino was needy, constantly, desperately, loudly needy, Valentino knew that Vox had always, always, always been married to his work.

But it wasn't Valentino's fault that he was tired of it! Vox should have given what he got!

Except... Well, except for this.

"Angiiiiiiiiiiiie~" Usually, that tone was reserved for Vox. He didn't pull it out for just anyone, not really. It was a little nasal, a lot whiny, and signed with a hiccup. Pale, pink tear tracks were smeared beneath his eyes, and it colored his inky black hands with a faint glow. Most of his fluids didn't do that, but the tears always did for whatever fucking reason, "What... What're ya doin', Angie...?"

Drunk already. That wasn't unusual, either, not really. After their fights, usually Valentino self-medicated, and he often did so with booze. With how stumbly he was on his notably bare feet, he was probably high, too. What most of the Studio hadn't been prepared for was that he had already been drunk when Vox had shown up for their usual Thursday evening.

"You huuuuungry? 'm huuuungery..." And just about falling forward, too. He had to catch himself on the doorjamb to keep from actually eating the epoxy floor, but his grip wasn't anything to write home about. When was the last time he'd actually had the shiny, red and black floor properly cleaned...? It didn't matter.

After a couple of seconds, he popped his head up again (when had it fallen?), and blinked.

Angel's dressing room was empty.

"Angel Cakes!" He bellowed, hoping that Angel wouldn't run. He didn't want to be alone right now.

#And If You Get In My Face Then You’ll Get A Taste Even God Would Run Son (ναℓєитιиσ)#(Valentino and Angel Dust - NotxYourxDevilxDoll)#E: On Thursdays We Break Up #cw alcoholic #cw alcohol #cw alcohol abuse #cw drug use #cw addiction #cw food #sort of #cw toxic relationship

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thinkingnot · 1 year

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omg omg i’m floundering i got my first kay why ess anon should i ask them out 👉👈

kids, this is where i met your mother 🫶

#blushing n shi damn anon you made me flustered #wait wait i know what to do #*deletes*#sorrey you deserved better 💔#okay now how do you handle a break up despite not being in any relationship ever #tw kys #cw kys #tw kys mention #hoodie’s asks #tenant #eviction

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dear-kumari · 2 years

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ngl, it’s pretty funny that Rayllum was apparently compelling enough to the Teedeepee writers that they reworked their s3 plans to quickly canonize the ship, yet when it came to actually doing something with an established relationship between the main characters their first move was to break them up offscreen

#'noooo they didn't really break up she just left him on his birthday without saying goodbye and hasn't contacted him in two years'#Kumari comments #Kumari procrastinates irl #Sorry to Rylm fans but I have to speak my truth — I dislike boring mediocre ships and only enjoy cool awesome ships #you can like boring ships if you want tho. it's fine. go with my blessing #not to give Bryke credit but at least they tried to do /something/ with their boring main character ship before breaking them up #and they knew better than to make their OG boring main character ship canon before the very end of the show #Ehasz is so cowardly that his boring main couple doesn't even break up for normal relationship reasons — Rayla is just compelled to leave #offscreen #in a side story #because of an improbable existential threat #personally I think the writers realized belatedly that this kind of frictionless romance only works with a significant period of pining #so they had to re-reroute the Rylum journey to capture all the drama they skipped in their ship-crazy haste #Not the worst solution ever but like. this is some CW-ass storytelling lmao #Kumari abuses the tagging system

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omgeto · 8 months

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☆ WHEN YOU BREAK UP AND MAKE UP — NANAMI KENTO

summary: fed up with your stagnant marriage, you serve your husband divorce papers as a final cry to show you're tired of his behaviour. but you forget that, although he doesn't always show it, your husband never goes down without a fight.

w/c: 3.5k

cw: angst to fluff, nanami may come across as an asshole but he means it with love, plot with a dash of porn at the end, so mdni!!, semi-public sex (you fuck in an elevator) afab!reader

authors note: first fic on the new blog (wild) but I actually really fw this fic, hope you all do to. not fully proof read so ignore mistakes!!

nanami's footsteps echo through the dimly lit hallway as he approaches your apartment. his heart pounds against his ribs, a mixture of irritation, confusion, and hurt swirling within him. he had seen the divorce papers, his name scrawled across the top in bold letters, and the shock has left him simmering with resentment.

with a determined exhale, he raises his hand and knocks on your door. the door swings open, revealing his surprised expression. his eyes widen as he takes in your clenched jaw and the tension etched into your features.

"kento," your voice wavers, a mix of surprise and something he can't quite place.

"i didn't expect to find divorce papers on my desk at work," he bites out, his tone sharp and impatient.

your cheeks flush slightly, your gaze flickering away for a moment before returning to meet his stare. "it got your attention, didn't it?" you retort, your voice tinged with exasperation.

"attention?" nanami's voice drips with sarcasm. "you think serving me divorce papers at my job is the way to solve our problems?"

"you've been distant, nanami," your voice holds a trace of weariness. "we've been living separate lives for weeks. i needed you to know that something has to change."

nanami's irritation flares, his patience wearing thin. "dropping divorce papers on my desk is your way of communication now?"

"you've brushed me off every time i've tried to talk," your voice holds a hint of frustration, your eyes betraying a simmering anger. "maybe this is the only language you'll understand."

nanami's annoyance collides with a stubborn resistance, his grip on his emotions hardening. "you know i've been busy," he states curtly.

"busy ignoring me," your voice is edged with bitterness, your expression growing weary.

nanami's frustration deepens, and he steps closer, his gaze unwavering. "you could have talked to me."

you look away, your jaw clenched. "tried that." he reaches out to you but you brush him off, backing out of his space.

you didn’t know what the exact turning point of your marriage was, but once it came it was overwhelming, swept you both up in a whirl of frustration. nanami didn’t feel like yours anymore – he was a shell of the guy you married. there were no more morning kisses, gentle touches, or late-night talks that once filled your lives. the silence in your shared space became a chasm, widening with each passing day. you pleaded for his attention, for a connection, but it was as if he was slipping away, becoming a stranger.

"you’ve taken this game of yours too far," he scoffs, disbelief and a hint of frustration in his voice. nanami had never imagined it would come to this – the thought of you leaving him was a reality he was struggling to accept. he wasn't blind to the shifts in your relationship, the growing distance, but he had convinced himself that it was a phase. a bad period that could be smoothed out with a little time and patience.

when you gathered your belongings and walked away, nearly a month ago now, he allowed you to go, certain that this was just a phase, a moment of frustration that would pass.

"i thought we were just going through a rough patch," he continues, his voice carrying a self-assured edge. "didn't think you'd take it to this extreme. you really tried to embarrass me at work with that shit, everybody saw y’know, my colleagues, my boss.”

your eyes narrow at his response, the frustration that had simmered inside you starting to boil over. "It's not a game, nanami. this isn't some ploy for attention."

“so you’ve given up on me then? on us?” he asks incredulously, stepping closer to you, studying your face.

your gaze holds his, determination mixing with the hurt that still lingers. "i didn't want to give up, but i can't keep holding on to something that's slipping away."

nanami's eyes search yours, a moment of vulnerability flickering across his features before he masks it with his trademark confidence. "you think i'll just let you go that easily?"

you meet his gaze head-on, the tension between you palpable. "it's not about whether you'll 'let' me. it's about whether we're both willing to put in the effort to fix what's broken."

his smirk fades, his gaze intense as he studies you. "and? are you willing?"

nanami didn’t realise how silent his home was without you in it. when he returned, he sat in silence, the weight of your ultimatum sinking in. ‘it’s not a game nanami’ your previous words repeatedly echo through his mind. he had always prided himself on his rationality, on his ability to see things logically, but when it came to you, it was an unfamiliar territory,

he had grown accustomed to the routine of his life, the predictable patterns that had lulled him into a sense of complacency. he had convinced himself that the distance between you two would eventually close on its own. and now, confronted with the reality of your departure, he couldn't deny the truth any longer.

“you’ve really fucked this up nanamin,” gojo lectures over the phone to nanami, “you deserved getting embarrassed at your job.”

“i didn’t call you to be told off,” nanami says, pinching his nose “i called for you to tell me what to do.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” gojo questions, “you know what she wants.”

“If i did, i wouldn’t be on the phone with you, would i?” nanami snaps, frustration brewing.

“she wants the guy she married.” gojo states, ignoring nanami’s tone.

“I am that guy,” there was a pause, as if nanami could see gojo’s pointed look through the phone, “well i thought i was that guy. but i know she doesn’t want to divorce me for real, she loves me.”

“does she though?” gojo questions, “remember nanamin, i was there when you guys got married, the way she looked at you then… isn’t how she looks at you now.”

nanami ends the call abruptly, pacing around his living room. gojo’s words sticking in his mind. he had reached out to his friend seeking guidance, but it’s becoming evident that the answers he’s seeking might not be as straightforward as he had hoped.

gojo’s words struck a nerve, he was right. nanami remembers the early days of your relationship, the excitement, the adoration - the way your eyes would light up when you looked at him. but now, the distance, the hurt, it was evident.

he was going to make things right, he had to. you were his wife - his soulmate. he’s known that from the day he laid eyes on you, and he doesn’t want to let you out of his grasp.

it had been months since you served nanami the divorce papers – he was stalling. you couldn’t deny that he was trying though, the daily flowers that you received, the take out that was delivered to your house without you asking, was a testament to that.

you got daily calls, texts and emails from him asking you about your day, about your wellbeing. he was showing you that he cared, and it was as if he was courting you all over again.

his efforts didn’t go unnoticed, your friends and family could see the subtle smiles you couldn’t suppress and the softening of your eyes when his name was mentioned. they hoped for your sake that nanami would keep consistent.

you felt hopeful, and that made you feel dumb.

but you just needed one more push to feel secure, to feel like this would work – would last. which is why you were standing in the lobby of your lawyers office, your feet tapping nervously against the floor as you wait for your husband to arrive.

“hi, my love,” he greets, the familiar pet name coming out like a whisper, but it doesn’t go unnoticed, “i guess we should head up there.”

“yeah, lead the way,” you say, your tone warmer than you expect as you take in his appearance. he was dressed in one of his signature crisp suits, in fact it was your favourite suit of his, and he was wearing the hell out of it.

you follow him to the elevator, the hallway stretching ahead as you both walk side by side. you haven’t felt like this in a long time, like a pair, a union. nanami’s presence beside you is both familiar and foreign, a reminder of the life you once shared and the uncertainty of what lies ahead.

“we don’t have to go this meeting you know,” nanami forces out, but you ignore him pushing the button of the floor you need to be at.

“love listen, it doesn’t have to be this way,” he persists.

“and what way is it kento?” you argue, “just because you’ve been sending me flowers, and asking me how i am each day, doesn’t mean you’ve magically became husband material again.”

“trust me, i know that.” he scoffs, “you’re a real piece of work bu-”

“and you’re a real piece of sh-” you start, stopping yourself as you realise that you were the one going too far.

“as i was saying,” he continues, “you’re a real piece of work, but you’re worth it. you always have been, from the moment i met you i knew you were going to cause me trouble but i ended up loving you for that.”

“well tell that to your actions for the past–” you pause, feeling the elevator coming to an abrupt stop, “why did the elevator just close… the last thing i need right now is to be trapped.”

nanami's gaze shifts to the control panel, his eyebrows furrowing. "looks like we're stuck."

you glance at him, your heart racing for a different reason now. "stuck?"

nanami's eyes meet yours, his smirk undeniably playful. "Seems like fate has its own plans for us," he remarks, his tone holding a hint of amusement.

you roll your eyes, unable to suppress a small smile despite the circumstances. "great, just what I needed today."

he chuckles, his fingers expertly unbuttoning his cuffs as he begins to roll up his sleeves. "well, at least we have some time to ourselves. might as well make the most of it."

your eyebrows raise at his nonchalant attitude, your surprise momentarily replacing the irritation. "are you serious right now? we're stuck in an elevator, and you're acting like it's a casual evening at home?"

nanami's grin widens, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "why not? it's not like we can do much about the situation. might as well enjoy each other's company."

you huff out a breath, torn between annoyance and amusement. as you observe him making himself comfortable on the elevator floor, you can't help but shake your head. "you're unbelievable."

he pats the spot next to him, his inviting gesture a silent challenge. "come on, it's not so bad. we can reminisce about old times, or argue about who's the better cook."

you find yourself hesitating, the absurdity of the situation sinking in. with a resigned sigh, you take a seat beside him, your shoulder brushing against his. "old times, huh? you mean the days when you used to bring me breakfast in bed?"

nanami's smile softens, a nostalgic gleam in his eyes. "yeah, and you'd always complain that the eggs were overcooked."

“because they always were.” you retort, with a chuckle. you missed this, being in his space without any of the extra noise.

“i can cook breakfast for you again,” he proposes, “if you just come home.”

“kento i don’t know if i-”

“do you remember our first date,” he interrupts, “my car broke down on the way home from the restaurant, so i put you on my back and carried you for 5 miles.”

“you carried my heels too,” you add, laughing softly to yourself at the memory. your first date with nanami solidified that he was the man for you, the way he shamelessly gave you a piggy back ride, heels and all.

nanami’s gaze locks with yours, his fingers gently grazing your hand “it was worth every step.”

a warmth spreads through your chest, a mix of nostalgia and a newfound vulnerability. "you used to be so sweet," you murmur, your voice laced with a bittersweet longing.

his fingers inch closer, your hands almost brushing against each other. "i can still be sweet, you know," he replies softly, his gaze never leaving yours.

your heart skips a beat, the air around you growing charged with unspoken emotions. "you have a funny way of showing it."

he tilts his head, his lips curving into a genuine smile. "maybe I've been out of practice."

as the silence settles between you, the confined space of the elevator seems to amplify the intensity of your connection. the past rushes back, the moments that you shared, the love that once flourished. but you're both here now, in the present, faced with the choice of whether to rebuild or let go.

nanami's fingers finally find yours, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through your veins. "i want to make it right, to fix us," he admits, vulnerability lacing his words.

you meet his gaze, the weight of his confession hanging in the air. "It's not that simple, kento. we can't just go back to the way things were."

his thumb traces a soothing pattern on the back of your hand. "i know. but maybe we can start anew. rediscover each other, learn from our mistakes."

you study his face, the sincerity in his eyes making your heart ache. maybe he had changed, maybe he was willing to put in the effort to mend what was broken. maybe, just maybe, there was hope for your relationship after all.

the elevator's walls seem to fade away, leaving only the two of you in this suspended moment. The past and the present merge, and as you search his eyes for any signs of deceit, you find none. only a genuine desire to make things right.

"i've missed you," he whispers, his voice holding a vulnerability that resonates within you.

“you swallow the lump in your throat, your grip on his hand tightening. "i've missed you too."

nanami's fingers burned with a mixture of yearning and desperation as they reached out to trace the curve of your cheek. his touch was electric, sending a surge of heat through your veins. your breath hitched in response, your heart pounding against your ribs as his thumb brushed over your skin.

his touch was no longer tentative; it was a declaration, a silent proclamation of his desire. the air seemed to crackle with tension as his gaze bore into yours, his eyes dark and smouldering.

"i've wanted to do this for so long," he confesses, his voice a low growl sending a shiver down your spine.

his fingers slide from your cheek to your jawline, his touch igniting a fire within you. the space between you seemed to vanish as he closed in, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours. your eyes flutter closed as his thumb brushes over your lower lip, his touch setting your skin ablaze.

and then, his lips crash onto yours with a fierce hunger that leaves you breathless. it was a kiss that ignites a wildfire, a blaze of emotions that had been suppressed for far too long. his lips moved against yours with a fervour that matched the intensity of his touch, a dance of passion and longing.

his arms encircle you, pulling you flush against him as the kiss deepens. his mouth moves over yours with a possessive urgency, his tongue seeking entrance and igniting a fiery tangle of sensations. the taste of him was intoxicating, a heady mixture of desire and nostalgia.

your fingers claw at the fabric of his shirt, needing to feel him, to ground yourself in this moment. his body presses against yours, every contour and ridge igniting a cascade of sensations that pooled between your thighs.

his hands trail down your back, the touch leaving trails of fire in its wake. when he cups your hips and pulls you impossibly closer, a moan escaped your lips, swallowed by the intensity of the kiss.

as the kiss broke, your foreheads rest against each other, your breaths ragged and laboured. the air around you was thick with desire, the space between you charged with an unspoken promise.

"i need you," he murmurs against your lips, his voice laced with desperation.

your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling his head down for another searing kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of pent-up longing, of a love that refused to be extinguished. your bodies moulded together as if they were meant to fit perfectly, every touch a symphony of need and surrender.

“tell me you need me, love,” he gasps out, and you nod against him, “no i got to hear you say it.”

“i need you, i do,” you whimper against his lips, as his fingers slip below the waistline of your skirt, gently grazing your clit, “k-kento we can’t, have you forgotten where we are?”

“don’t tell me you’ve become shy whilst we’ve been separated,” he chuckles, smirking as he continues to toy with your pussy “you don’t remember all the times i’d have you bent over my desk in my office?”

you bite your lip at the memory, feeling yourself get wetter as nanami’s fingers enter you, his thumb pressing against your clit. nanami knew you inside and out, he knew how exactly where to touch, how to get you whine and writhe against him as you are now.

he took advantage of your exposed neck, biting and sucking against your collarbone as he continues to stroke your cunt. you were gushing over him, repeatedly clenching against his fingers, as he twists and pushes in and out of you.

“you always get so wet for me,” he praises, pulling his fingers out of you, his digits glistening coated with you. you can smell your own arousal from his hand as he grabs your chin, forcing you to stare at his lust filled eyes. “ride me.”

you didn’t need to be asked twice, you discard your skirt off on the elevator floor, as he unzips his pants. he strokes his dick as it gets harder just at the sight of you. he was back was against the wall, his legs sprawled out widely, the perfect opening for you to climb right into his lap.

you slid right onto him, letting out an exhale as he fills you. he presses a sloppy kiss against your lips as your cunt grips onto him. your hands dig into his shoulder as you bounce up and down on him, his hands having your hips in a firm hold to keep you in place.

nanami couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, the way you were taking him in like you needed him, was a sight he could never get tired off. you were so pretty, all fucked out on his dick, your eyes glossed over in a daze, the only thing you were focused on was him.

“d’you see now why i could never let you go?” he teases, thrusting upwards into you as one of his hands trails up to caress your cheek, his thumb parting your lips, “because this pussy’s mine.”

he quickens his pace, eager to get you to come undone all over him, the way your movements became slower, lazier, he could tell you were nearly at your peak. you bite on his thumb, suppressing your moans, as his merciless thrust begin to become too much.

“m’close kento, i-it’s too much,”

“I know my love, you’re taking me so well,” he praises, pushing deeper into you, “just hold out for a bit longer.”

“i-i can’t i-” you couldn’t finish your sentence as you feel yourself release all over him. nanami groans out his head collapsing in your cleavage as he finishes inside of you, your juices mixing with his.

the only sounds that can be heard are you both trying to catch your breath. nanami keeps his head pressed against your tits, still inside of you. you toy with his hair pushing his hair back to leave a gentle kiss against his head, his arms tighten around you and it was as if you could feel him smile against you. you knew from then that you and your husband was going to be okay.

“kento?” your voice wavers, a mixture of uncertainty and hope lacing your words.

“yes? my love,” he responds, his gaze locked onto yours.

your heart flutters as you gather your courage, the weight of the past and the possibilities of the future intertwining in your chest. "I think we can cancel that meeting with my lawyer."

nanami's smile broadens, but it's different this time – it's a smile that carries the weight of understanding and a newfound determination. he holds your gaze, and you can see the sincerity in his eyes, a silent promise of change and rediscovery.

you eventually got out of that elevator and you didn’t go home to your separate apartments, you went home, together.

extra an: so guys what did you think?? first time writing for smut, and for nanami so if it’s shit spare me. but I love him and I’d never divorce him. DIVIDERS FROM @/CAFEKITSUNE !!

#stampedwithanE★#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami x reader #nanami angst #nanami fluff #jjk smut #nanami smut #jjk angst #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen smut #nanami x you #nanami kento smut

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augustinewrites · 3 months

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cw: it’s just angst

“i’m not mad.”

satoru closes and locks the front door, trailing after you into the kitchen, apprehension rising in the space kept between you. “really? because you seem kind of mad…”

“it’s fine, gojo.” you snap. “i’m fine.”

he watches you, quiet as the two of you go about your evening routine. leftovers from meals brought to the infirmary stowed away. week-old laundry tossed into the basket. you don’t say a word to him, emotions you don’t know how to make sense of still simmering.

“i’m sorry,” he says plainly as you’re both putting away the dishes.

you wipe your hands on the tea towel, glancing over at him. “do you even know what you’re apologizing for?”

he shifts, unsure. “no…”

“of course you don’t,” you sigh.

“then tell me,” he insists, exasperated. “i don’t want to fight.”

“i don’t want to either,” you snap. “but you’re doing it again.”

“doing what?”

“you just spent a week in the infirmary. you were hurt.”

“c’mon,” he laughs weakly. “there was no real chance of me dying.”

“that’s not the—” you voice rises, then immediately quiets when you realize the kids are asleep. “that’s not the point. you’re losing yourself in it again. soon you’re going to drift away from us— from me,” you tell him, bleeding into the pain you’ve felt the last few days. “like you did when we were in school.”

because for as long as you’d known gojo, his drive was to constantly do more. be more. the period of time after the failure that was the star plasma vessel mission was the first time you’d witnessed it. gojo satoru doesn’t do anything halfway. he won’t permit himself to.

that’s what really scares you. he doesn’t know when to stop.

“i’m sorry that i worried you,” he apologizes, sincerity etched into his expression. you know him, know that he’s scared to say the wrong thing, that he’ll mess this up or somehow make it worse. “i had to. the higher ups—”

“satoru,” you interrupt, walls crumbling right in front of him. “i’ve always liked that you care about the jujutsu world. i just don’t want you to only care about it. not with where we are in our lives right now.”

“i don’t—”

“you do! you always have, and i get it. i know the world needs you…but things are getting worse, and we need to start thinking about the future—”

“everything i’m doing is for the future. for the future generation of sorcerers all over the world—”

“i don’t care about the world! i just care about you, and that’s the problem. one person always cares more in a relationship and that’s always been me.”

“that’s not true,” he insists, a desperate edge in his voice. “all i’ve ever wanted is you. all i’ve never needed is you—”

“i need you too! maybe that sounds selfish or needy, but i don’t want there to be a day where i have to tell the kids that you’re not coming home. if you can’t understand that—”

he doesn’t think you realize you’re crying, frustrated tears gathering in your eyes and threatening to spill over. satoru reaches for you out of instinct, your argument the furthest thing from both your minds at this moment. you let him pull you into his arms, let him hold you.

but you’re exhausted.

this is fight you’ve been having since the moment you’d met him, and you don’t think he’ll understand the impact of it until you walk away.

“if you don’t understand that,” you continue softly, “then maybe we need to take a break.”

_____

outside the apartment door, nanami and shoko sit side by side, sharing a bottle of "welcome home" wine.

"guess they forgot we were coming over," the doctor mutters, pressing her ear against the door to see if jujutsu tech's favourite couple was still fighting. “it’s way too quiet in there. you think she killed him?”

nanami sighs, loosening his tie. “it’s quite possible.”

“i’ll be the alibi and you’ll get rid of the body?”

“of course.”

#fushigojo breakup fic part one #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #keeping up with the fushigojos #jjk angst

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nivisdreaming · 7 months

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Kinktober Day 1: Size - Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

WC: 1.1k

CW: Size play, predator/prey dynamics, established relationship, piv penetration, no protection, creampie, teasing, praise, sub!reader, dom!miguel, subspace implied, reader gets fucked so good she passes out, aftercare is included

Notes: first time writing for miguel? pog? also welcome to kinktober everyone its gonna get freaky >:)

Miguel is constantly pinning you to things. He’s not even doing it on purpose necessarily, he’s just so big.

It’s not his fault that he’ll reach for something over your head, or try to scooch behind you in the kitchen or hallway, and all of a sudden you’re pushed against the nearest surface being towered over by a 6’9 spider hybrid.

What is his fault is how he abuses it once he realizes how flustered it makes it. He’s always been very perceptive when it came to you. He knows how your cheeks flush red with embarrassment, how your breath hitches, and your thighs squeeze together in need, right as you look upward to view him caging you in. It always gives a sickening ego boost. You’re just so small compared to him. Breakable. Fragile. Delicate. Delicious.

He starts subtlety. Sneaking behind you when you’re making morning coffee, hovering behind when you work at your desk, and of course, getting you down on your knees for him whenever possible. It doesn’t take long to escalate however, coming to a head one night before he is set to attend a Spider Society gala with you as his plus one.

You slide the dress up your body carefully, allowing the snug material to cling tight around your breasts in its strapless style. You straighten it out and peered over your shoulder to call, “Miggy? Can you come zip me up please?”

You adjust your hair and makeup in the mirror as you listen to his lumbering footsteps, smiling when he appears behind you, his eyes tracing over your curves in the reflection. He takes a step closer, and the way his shoulders dwarf yours causes your breath to hitch. He slides a hand up your side and another comes to rest on the back of your neck. You open your mouth to make the request again, but the air is knocked out of you as he pushes forwards, pinning you firmly to the floor-length mirror without looking away from his scanning of your body.

“Sweet, tiny little thing. You’re so easy to push around, aren’t you, mi princesa?” He pushes his hips forward to rut against your ass, and your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head from the combo of his growling tone and his hot erection against you. He leans down to nip at your earlobe before muttering, “I know you love how much bigger than you I am. Does it make you feel all funny? To know how I could wreck you, how I could turn you into my cowering prey, stuck underneath me? It makes your brain all fuzzy. And it makes your cunt dripping wet.” He uses the hand on your side to tug up the dress, exposing your bare ass. He scoffs at the lewdity and gives one of the round globes a spank, forcing a whimper from you.

You watch him in the mirror as he blocks you in on all sides while running a finger down to your folds, teasingly sliding it against your entrance before bringing it to his month to suck off the slick. He hums in approval and moves his arms to sit on either side of your head, leaving you boxed in but free to move against him.

“Spin around. I wanna look you in the eyes while I stretch your tight pussy to it’s breaking point, and if I see you look away I will make sure neither of us sees this event tonight.”

You gulp and slowly twirl around, having to crane your neck to meet his eyes even as he leers down at you. He places a hand over yours and coaxes it to the front of his crotch, using you to squeeze at his bulge before instructing you to undo the zipper and pull him out. You obey without hesitation, allowing him to tug down the top of your dress and reveal your tits as you do. His cock springs eagerly from its confines, precum already leaking from the tip that has flushed a deep purple.

Instinctively you try to drop down to your knees, your clouded headspace demanding that you needed to gag around him as soon as possible, but he manhandles you back up and off the ground with your wrists above your head and legs wrapped around his slutty waist. The rough force has you moaning softly, eyes already glazed over despite the lack of direct stimulation. It makes him chuckle darkly.

He lines his tip up with your entrance and gives no warning before sliding in with a single thrust. The slick dripping down your thighs is plenty of lube as he begins an earth-shattering pace, hips slamming into yours and tip kissing your cervix with every thrust. He leans down and vigorously sucks and bites around your breasts, littering them with hickeys while you cry on his cock, sobbing hysterically from pleasure.

He pulls away from his marking to take in your appearance, at the fat globs of tears gathering on your cheeks make his hips stutter and his abs tense. “God, princesa, feels so good to corrupt you like this,” he switches his grip from your hip to your tummy so he can thumb at your clit, “So ruined for me. Molded this tiny cunt to my dick, so it’s perfect just for me.” You whimper at the praise, jaw dropping open and tongue lolling out as he slides against the spongey spot inside you and rubs fast circles around your bundle of nerves.

“That’s it, my good little girl. So delicate, just gotta take care of you by breaking that poor little brain every once and awhile. Go ahead sweet thing, cum on me, show me how good little prey thank the predators.” His words send you spinning into the abyss, everything in your body pulling taunt and then snapping back as your vision goes from white to black and suddenly you’re so light and floaty that you can’t feel the way you soak Miguel’s cock, nor the way he cums deep inside you as your walls milk him dry. You don’t feel him carry you to the bed, or feel him drag the damp cloth between your legs. You don’t feel how he kisses both your cheeks in hopes of getting your eyes to flutter open, to no avail.

What you do feel is when he pulls your trembling body against his broad chest, rubbing up and down on your arms softly and whispering to you. “Mi amor, you gotta come back to me now. Open up those eyes for me. You did so good for me baby, surprised you made it as long as you did without passing out on my dick. C’mon, wakey wakey corazón.” His words are encouragement enough to float back downwards, settling into his touch until you have enough strength to pull your eyelids open and peer up at him with large doe-eyes. “Aw, welcome back little girl. Te amo.”

#kinktober 2023 #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #miguel smut #miguel o’hara smut #dom!miguel o'hara #sub!reader

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