Why Zayne would be the most likely to get you pregnant by accident: A thesis by Soul
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆Yes I’m taking this dead serious and you should too… I’m kidding I just think this is funny I wasn’t expecting this much of a reaction to the initial post so now here we are… enjoy my thoughts :)
He's very in tune with your body, including your cycle.
Maybe too in tune with it. He knows your cycle like the back of his hand, knows it like all the cardiology textbooks he memorized in grad school. Hell, he can tell where you are in your cycle simply by the way you smell, by the way you taste... you get my point.
Zayne knowing you this well is touching, honestly. But it's also his biggest kryptonite because god dammit he just can't resist you. Especially when he knows you're ovulating.
2. He prefers taking preventative measures rather than you taking preventative measures.
Zayne knows how harmful birth control can be to your body. The pill has a side effect pamphlet that could double as a queen size blanket. An IUD is a painful insertion process even if you get pain meds. They mess with your hormones, with your cycle, can cause more issues than benefits in his opinion. It's just not worth it.
While he is more than willing to get a vasectomy for you - something that is reversible for when the time comes that you do actually plan to try for children - you keep telling him that condoms are more than effective and it's not worth the recovery process at this point... ;)
3. Zayne is very easily persuaded by you in the heat of the moment.
If you didn't catch my drift from above... you are very convincing when asking Zayne to take the condom off and fuck you raw.
He won't do it before sex, no he won't do it before or during foreplay either. But let him slip inside, let him feel how soft and warm you are... or at least let him try because that oh-so-thin layer of latex his holding him back from so much... and then try asking... he'll slip it off in a heartbeat. Consequences be damned... he'll pull out... or at least try.
4. Zayne's diet and life style provide him with pretty healthy swimmers... even with his sweets intake.
Zayne eats good, works out, tries his hardest to get enough sleep. All because of you, all for you. He now treats his body with care, even though he can't resist those damn macaroons, his healthy habits tend to balance out his unstoppable sweet tooth. Making the overall quality of his sperm good, strong, and... well... eager.
5. Zayne has an incredibly high sex drive.
Listen... he's pretty insatiable. The more frequently you do it... the higher the risk... and I mean the second you convince him to take the condom off he is not slipping a new one on for the next round... rounds.
In conclusion, Zayne is the most careful among all the love interests. He is so precise with everything he does that it’s almost… bound to happen? Listen, fate has never been outwardly kind to this man so the irony would just be comical at this point. Not that he’d be upset!
Zayne would love to be a dad, so if it happened a little ahead of schedule? He’d welcome them with open arms.
cw : (18+) noncon (zayne), babytrapping? (zayne), non-consensual breeding (zayne), mutilation (brief mention, no graphic details) (sylus), calebmc is also as crazy as caleb, blood (brief mention) (sylus), consensual stalking? (sylus), murder (sylus, grey mention in caleb), tracker (caleb), caleb’s og trope (mentioned of ‘big brother’), chained up (rafayel), face slapping (rafayel), manipulation (xavier), xavier beats up someone, they’re all pretty crazy, kinda ooc for everyone except for caleb and rafayel.
it’s hard to write sylus and zayne especially zayne since his yandere traits is very minimal in canon. sorry if there is any mischaracterisation! would love some appreciation!
xavier!
one would never expect xavier to be crazy. his calm demeanour and the way he cares for you make you think he’s safe. he would never restrict you from going out on your own, dressing up the way you like or pursuing the career that you want. you love how free you feel when you’re with him. so freeing that you don’t even realise how he’s shaping your surroundings.
xavier could never restrict you from making your own decisions. but one thing he couldn’t bear is letting you choose your circle. look, xavier doesn’t mind you having friends. he doesn’t want to be controlling and possessive to the point you can’t choose who you befriend. but sometimes it feels too much for him. why would you smile and be a sweetheart to the new neighbour? why would you want to hang out and have a girls’ night with your colleagues when he’s right there? why would you help and be all friendly with the new intern who obviously just wants your attention instead of actually learning?
even though he obviously doesn’t like it, he didn’t tell you directly to stop. no, he wouldn’t. wouldn’t it be better if he made those people stop talking to you instead?
you would notice how your new neighbour stopped offering you fresh bread every morning. when you saw him while taking out trash and were about to greet him, he would look you in disdain. “you could’ve just said it to me instead of trash talking about my pastries on your account.” looking at you with hatred, leaving you all confused.
similar thing happened with your colleagues. they stopped inviting you to their sleepovers and refused to have lunch with you. when you confronted them, they would look at you with disappointed faces. “don’t act like you don’t know anything.” once again, leaving you confused.
even the new intern didn’t ask you for help anymore. every time you found him needing help, he would dismiss you and leave. you did notice how scared he looks, and was that a bruise on his cheek?
one day, you couldn’t take it anymore and find xavier for comfort. “i didn’t know what i did wrong. they all just avoided me. im so confused, xavier.” you cried into his shoulder, gripping his arm in desperation. “i’m so sorry that happened to you, my star. they’re all awful and they don’t deserve you. it’s okay, you have me.” he pulled you into his embrace, caressing your back carefully. he pulled your face close, as his lips landed on yours for a gentle kiss. “Now they won’t bother you again,” he whispered, voice as soft as velvet.
you froze, before pulling away from him as a confused expression was plastered on your face. “…what? what do you mean, xavier?” even as he noticed your sudden confusion, he just smiled at you. “they’re gone from your life and now you have me, isn’t that good, my star?” you didn’t even have the chance to reply before he shut you down by kissing you. you tried to protest but he pinned you down to the couch, crushing you with his heavy weight. he felt a tear running down your cheek and he pulled away. “seems like your brain already put the pieces together,” he whispered. “xavier…” he gently wiped down your tears and smiled. “it’s okay, starlight. i would never hurt you.”
zayne!
zayne is normal. did you really think he would show or have any crazy traits? you’re crazy for even thinking about that.
the doctor did live a life that was not like any average human. he went to college at the age of fourteen and graduated with his phd at early twenties. well, that’s one of the things that isn’t normal about him.
he is normal about you too. when he had days off from the busy hospital, he would spend his days with you. taking you to dates, going to cafe he had always wanted to go, trying their sweet pastries and drinks together with him. oh, he likes the cafe’s chocolate cake the most. the sweetness is just at the right amount.
after going to cafe, he would take a walk in the park together with you. especially at dawn, where the sun was about to set, the sky giving a gradient colour of orange and blue calmed him down. it’s a bonus if the park is full of small animals like squirrels, bunnies or kittens. he is fond of them.
his eyes shine brighter when he sees couples with babies or toddlers with them. he is imagining a life where he he woke up to you by his side, smiling and getting ready to entertain your child. his and your child. your belly would be swollen when you’re entertaining your child just because he know he would knock you up again. he wants to see his house full of mini him and you running around the house.
the only problem is, you don’t like having sex with him unprotected. “we can’t risk it, zayne. and i’m not ready yet.” he would listen to you all the time, even though his dream is literally the opposite. he wants to knock you up, full of his child. he wants you to bear his kids, belly all swollen, a proof that his seed was planted inside you.
zayne is normal. but is he really normal for this? he suggested no condom for today’s session. you refused at first, saying it was risky but he promised you, sweetly, that he would pull out. he just wanna feel you skin to skin, is it too much to ask? you sighed, giving in into his desire. after all, you trust him.
you feel it, both of you are close to reaching the climax. his groans are getting louder and his thrust is getting faster. “z-zayne…! pull out…!” but he keeps his pace, not bothering to pull out. you whined, your hands weakly pushed his chest but the effort was useless. “zayne…! w-what are you doing…? p-pull- ahh-! pull out…!”
he took your hands and pinned it to the bed. you saw how your usual sweet boyfriend shifted to cold and distant. “take it… bear my kids. i want to see you all glowing from bearing my child… f-fuck..! i-i’m close…!”
your eyes are full with tears, sobbing as you laid there taking him. he groaned as his voice cracked as he finally came, his warm seed flooding your fertile womb. you whined as he slowly pulled out, his cum leaking out from your used hole. “you’re wasting my seed. we can’t let that happen. seems like i have to pump more in you then….”
rafayel!
it’s easy to forget how rafayel isn’t a human. the lemurian doesn’t have and share the same moral values as humans. his mind is twisted and fucked by the human’s logic. but to him, it was just his way of being devoted to you and keeping you safe from the sick world. the only thing that is saving him is his innocent and pretty face. and well maybe his bratty personality.
but don’t let that fool you. most of the time, that was an act rafayel put on to deceive you. if you truly believe rafayel is all just whiny, cute and pretty face, then he has succeeded in manipulating you.
of course you would never suspect a thing about your lemurian boyfriend. sure, the way he shows his love is quite different from the average human but you didn’t mind it. but it’s normal to him. of course wanting your partner to be with you all the time and joking to cage her up is fine, who wouldn’t do that? if you truly love someone, wouldn’t you want to keep them forever with you? that’s how rafayel genuinely feels.
but, as days passed, you feel something eerie when you’re with him. at first it was small, those jokes he made ‘i’m gonna lock you up, cutie.’ seemed unserious. you would laugh it off but he just stared at you, his eyes weirdly glow. it feels predatory. every time you wanna go out even to the grocery stores, he would insist on going with you. when you rejected him, he would pout at you. but you noticed the unsettling look he gave for a few seconds before putting on that pout. are you going insane? how could you feel this way towards your lover when all he did was being sweet and nice to you. you really tried hard to brush off the feelings.
well, maybe you shouldn’t. you didn’t know what you did to finally push him to this point. you were greeted with rafayel’s soft smile when you woke up that morning. you were about to move when you feel your legs are chained to the bed. “…what? rafayel…? what is this…?” you looked at him, confused. “hm? it’s nothing. you were going out too much these days without me. i figured i would keep you here.” he hummed, before his hand reaching out to caress your cheek.
“rafayel, don’t joke with me like this. open this shit up. i don’t have time for this-“ you were cut off with a slap on your face. you turned your head back to look at him, breath quivering. “don’t look at me like that, cutie. you brought this to yourself. you underestimate me too much. even now that i’ve got you all chained up. i really don’t like that.” he let out a sigh, his hand once again caressing your reddened cheek. “i don’t want to hurt you like this, but you make it so hard. you always trying to act like you’re sooo independent. but you didn’t realise how that messed me up.” his hand went down to caress your neckline, digging his nails into your skin suddenly which makes you whimpers in pain. “cute. so, i figured out to actually chained you down. i would feel better seeing you every second of the day on my bed. i wouldn’t have to worry about you leaving me either. and you get to spend every second with me. isn’t that fun, cutie?”
you still decided to protest, pulling your legs in hopes somehow the chain would come off. tears left your eyes as fear filled your mind. is this really your rafayel? seeing your helpless state, rafayel just chuckled softly, as if it was something amusing. “you’re so cute. it’s okay, cutie. you will get used to it. you have to, anyway.”
sylus!
it’s easy to judge the onychinus leader from the outside. sylus is all intimidating and possess a big threat in him. but deep down, he is just the biggest sweetheart when it comes to you. it’s like a switch has flipped, and were met with soft sylus. he’s always soft with you, to the point you feel, when is he ever not soft when it comes to you.
you noticed how his fierce crimson eyes would soften the moment he laid his eyes on you. he’s a just a big gentleman under that menacing leader of an illegal organisation. you don’t really think sylus is sick in the head. he never showed a moment where you would change your opinion about that.
well, maybe once when he got mephisto to follow you around. sylus couldn’t help but to install camera and microphone on mephisto so he could get to see and hear you every time. he’s obsessed with his wife, don’t blame him.
you called him out when you found out about it. but it didn’t bother you much since you know sylus is just being obsessed and you like to know about that.
you have a believe that sylus depends on you as his moral compass. he wouldn’t do something you don’t like if you asked him to. but sometimes, sylus truly has to take matters into his own hands.
he noticed how you looked unhappy than usual. when asked, you would brushed him off and give me a forced smile. so you wouldn’t tell him, huh. it’s okay, he has mephisto. he rewinded the recording from the start of your day today. an interaction between you and your colleagues caught his eye. ah, so that was it. your colleague had the audacity to comment on your appearance. his heart shattered when he saw how you were clearly holding your sadness, body shrinking as if to hide away from the world.
he is aware how you aren’t exactly secure with yourself. he hated how this happened to you. he is mad at you sometimes at how blind you are. how can you not see your own beauty. but that is something he will deal later. he will deal with that colleague first.
you were awakened from your sleep by the door shutting down. sylus entered the room, about to head to the bathroom. you noticed how his hands are covered in blood. “…sylus? where did you go? are you hurt?”
he stopped in his tracks and turned his head around. “it’s nothing to worry about, sweetie. it is not my blood, for your information.” he didn’t explain any further as he head toward the bathroom to wash off. he returned to you, fresh and clean. he slipped onto the bed, hugging your figure close to his.
“you killed people who were in your way again?” you turned to look at him, taking his face into your hands. “hm, sort of. they were indirectly making me unhappy.” sylus took the opportunity to kiss your palm. “nothing your pretty head has to worry about.” you just hummed and hugged him, truly believing he was dealing with people who was messing with him.
the next morning, your group chat with your colleagues was flooded with news. one of your colleagues was murdered last night. it was the same colleague who made fun of you yesterday. blood drained from your face as you see the photos that was sent, the victim lost body parts, the same body parts they mocked you for.
caleb!
caleb is your safe place. there is no other person you would rely on other than him. growing up with him has taught you to always have your trust in him. you both only have each other, it is only natural for you to choose him every time.
it is obvious caleb feels the same way. the same way you feel he is safe place, caleb feels that you’re his only safe place. he doesn’t have anyone else. you only have him too. it’s only natural that caleb grew to be a little protective.
there was one time in high school where you were bullied. you came home that day crying to caleb about it. caleb, being the big brother he is, reassured you. “it’s okay, pips. don’t cry. i will handle it for you.” you didn’t understand what he meant by that. but you know the bullying stopped after. it was weird how the bullies all went missing one by one. you always thought it was a coincidence. no way your big brother would do something bad to them? but somehow your little heart is glad it stopped. maybe a little grateful that they all finally disappeared.
caleb’s weird protectiveness somehow was imprinted into you too. seeing him again in skyhaven after his fake death was truly a moment of joy for you. you missed him, your older brother. how could he just fake his death and leave you mourning him? he was cruel for that, and you want to make sure he never leave again. so you did what you’ve always wanted, embedded a tracker in his necklace.
caleb knew about the it, of course. he is a colonel who did dirty work from time to time, it isn’t hard for him to know eventually that he was being tracked. caleb finds it cute that you can be a little protective over him. it’s only fair if he did the same, no?
unfortunately, you didn’t like it much after finding out. you hated that it took you a while to find out there was a tracker in your beaded bracelet he gave you. “what is this, caleb? mind explaining this to me?” you look irritated as you let out a sigh. “didn’t you do the same to me? what is this hypocrisy, pips?” he calmly took your hand and smiled. “wha- since when did you find out- nevertheless, i don’t like it when you do it to me. i only did it to you because i don’t want you leaving ever again.”
you huffed in annoyance as you try to pull your hand from him, but he gripped it even harder. his gaze darkened as he turned his head slightly. “so you can do that but i can’t? i’m not allowed to be scared of you leaving me? i’m not allowed to feel scared of dangers coming at you everyday?”
“you know that’s not what i meant-!” you hissed as his grip on you got even tighter. “then what did you mean? tell me, pips.” he pulled you close, the distance between you is small, you could feel his hot breath against your skin. you went silent, as you just stared back at his eyes. he let out a dry chuckle at your silence, caressing your cheek softly. “we’re really two sides of the same coin, aren’t we, pips?”
𑣲⋆｡˚ please do not copy my work, repost or feed it into ai!
When your daughter's psychiatrist suggests you get in touch with your abusive ex-husband in prison for her sake, you're not thrilled. Fortunately for you, he's dead. Unfortunately for you, someone else is alive and very keen on playing the part of a doting father. wc: 3.1k
Anyone who saw the way you were glaring at the red envelope sitting on your kitchen counter would assume you were trying to vaporize it through thought alone.
When your daughter's recuring nightmares had made you consult a children's psychiatrist, she'd come to the conclusion that your daughter missed her deadbeat of a father.
"He's in jail" You'd deadpanned.
"Perhaps, she could visit?"
"Thank you"
You weren't interested in any suggestions the psychiatrist had to make that revolved around getting your daughter involved with your criminal of a husband. Not that you could even if you wanted to.
Hell didn't really have a visitors' policy.
As you absentmindedly braided her hair that night, you wondered if it was your bad luck or good grace that he'd been killed in a riot in jail. When the penitentiary had phoned for you to come and identify his body, you'd been scared.
Scared that it wouldn't be him and the bastard would've cheated death itself.
You decided there was no need for your daughter to ever know what kind of person her father was. But as she grew older and the neighbors' kids started talking, it was clearly affecting her more than you'd realized.
"Hey, Bun" You softly turned her to face you "Do you miss Daddy?"
Her eyes widened like she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar before she hid her hands behind her back, shoulders drooping "No.."
"It's okay if you do" You reassured her. You couldn't blame her for feeling left out when she watched all the little kids get picked up by both their parents. It was obvious she'd wonder why she didn't have that.
You weighed your options. If you played it right, you could satisfy her and also keep her in the dark at the same time.
"Would you like to write him a letter?"
Tears sprang to your eyes when you saw how instantly she bloomed in joy, nodding vigorously and trying to escape your hold so she could do it immediately. You stopped her, promised you'd help her write it the next day if she went to bed at once.
Three days after she posted her letter, you brought one home with a flourish, telling her that her father had written back after all!
If the little lie you told was the reason your daughter had the dopiest smile on her face, you'd never feel guilty for it ever again. Especially not as you tucked her into bed that night, her little fist still clutching the letter like it was her lifeline.
It was only a few days later that you felt your heartbeat nearly triple when she rushed into the house, clutching a blood red envelope "Mommy! Mommy look!" You'd been folding laundry when she barreled into your legs "Daddy wrote letter again!"
You didn't mean to, but you snatched the letter from between her hands so fast, it startled her. Lower lip wobbling, you saw the tears well up in her eyes and immediately decided to do damage control.
"Daddy said I should only give you this letter if you freshen up for dinner quickly!"
When your daughter turned and sprinted for the bathroom, you couldn't believe it had worked. Abandoning the laundry, you tore the envelope open and started reading.
My dearest Princess,
Daddy very much misses you as well. I'm always thinking of my precious daughter.
P.S You are very good at drawing! I'm proud of you.
Love,
Daddy
You stared in disbelief. Sure, you had really posted the letter to the penitentiary when your daughter had insisted to take it all the way to the post office herself. You'd come up with a random serial number on the spot and figured they'd just toss the letter when they realized there was no one with that name on the roster.
Not only had someone received her letter...they'd also written back? In character?
The obvious conclusion is that it's an accident. An obvious mix-up. But your daughter is so ecstatic, you can't possibly break her heart like this.
So, you let her write a letter back. Again going to the post office and posting it.
When the third letter comes back from the prison, you decide to take matters in your own hands. Writing a little letter of your own and enclosing it with your daughter's drawings.
I really appreciate you humoring my daughter, but this was just a way to cope since her father is dead. There is no need to keep up with the farce.
I don't mind it. I quite enjoy her little sketches of the three of us. Tell her that Daddy's hair is lighter in color (:
I will not be telling her anything of the sort.
So cutthroat. You wound me, darling.
Despite yourself, you found your lips lifting at his words, but you caught yourself in record time, shoving the little note in your jeans as you quickly skimmed over his letter to your daughter before you deemed it okay to hand it to her.
She squealed with delight, clutching her new bunny by the ear as she thundered down to her room to read her letter in "secret". You watched her go till she was out of sight, still staring after her and wondering if it really was a bad idea to exchange harmless letters. If some bored criminal wanted to play house with your daughter over some letters, was there really any real danger to it?
You'd always check the letter she'd write, illegible as it was, to see if she didn't accidentally reveal any information about herself. And after she'd go to sleep, you'd only change one little thing.
Erasing her name at the bottom, you used your non-dominant hand to sign a pet name. Not once had you let your daughter's letters carry her real name over to a criminal. For the sake of her mental health, you'd allowed the letters, but this was non-negotiable to you.
Like clockwork, every Tuesday his letter arrives, you skim the contents before re-sealing it and handing it over to your daughter when she comes home from pre-school. Subsequently, you post her letter every Wednesday evening, using an address that was four blocks away from yours, belonging to the sweetest old lady who lived by herself and had dementia. You felt horrible taking advantage of the fact that she never checked her mail so you could always just conveniently swipe out the letters from her mailbox, but you brought her enough baked goods to make up for it. The letters you sent were just addressed to the penitentiary; with the serial number of an inmate you'd never know the owner of.
He signed his letters Skye but after having lived a life in hiding with a criminal, you'd learned not to trust the lot. If your daughter's deteriorating mental state hadn't been in question, the first letter would've never gone out.
One Tuesday evening, your daughter pulls at your pants to grab your attention and gives you a tiny note that she says is from Daddy. Your senses immediately go on high alert, worrying he's said something inexcusable and you would have to stop this little pen pal relationship.
Am I not allowed to know what my daughter looks like?
You feel a vein throbbing in your forehead, smiling at your daughter as she stares at you with her big doe-like eyes before you distract her with a snack.
If he wants to know what your daughter looked like, he would do something crazy like wanting to meet her if he ever got out. And if that wasn't bad, he'd probably kidnap her or do something inane, maybe he was already plotting it. Feeling your heart drop to your chest, you decide it really was the end.
That week, you don't send your daughter's letter. It remains in an unmarked envelope, hidden on the top shelf of your closet in a big box at the very back. The Wednesday of the week after, you wake up in cold sweat wondering if he sent a letter anyway. The morning of, you drop by the old lady's mailbox and quickly look through her mail just in case and sigh in relief when there's nothing in it.
The next week, you can't help the dread as you're swiping through the mailbox again, realizing how stupid you'd been. Not only had you probably endangered your daughter, but also the sweet old lady who always babysat for you whenever you had to pull extra shifts at work.
You can't keep the guilt off your face when you run into her at the grocery store that weekend, paying for her share as well when you realize she didn't remember to bring her wallet with her, heart pinching in agony at having taken advantage of her situation. Your daughter is skipping in front as you carry all the grocery bags, dropping the old lady off at her place with her stuff. She insists you stay for tea and you're about to decline but she's already bribed your daughter with cake and it's too late to retreat.
The sun is setting in streaks of orange and blue when you finally wave goodbye to her, adjusting the beanie on your daughter's head before she runs off again. You cross the mailbox, your stomach dropping as you backtrack and decide to doubly check.
Your hands are sweaty, forehead perspiring as you pluck out the blood red envelope, gulping as the dread overwhelms you, like hands wrapping around your throat and squeezing squeezing squeezing to see how long you'd last.
You quickly shove the letter inside your purse before your daughter can catch sight of it. There was no way she was going to read it- if at all- without you proofreading it first.
The entire walk home, you cannot keep your eyes off her. Heart palpitating like any minute you expect someone to pick her off the street and run away where you could never find her again.
Your mind is on the contents of the letter throughout preparing dinner, watching your daughter's favorite show, her bath time, reading her a story to bed and finally, like all the other nights for the past week reassuring her that her Daddy does love her even if he's not written back in a while.
By the time you're finally alone, you're about ready to rip off your hair from its roots as you hastily open the envelope and pluck the letter out.
You skim the letter, it is inconspicuous, nothing suggesting that he never received another letter, keeping the conversation going like always. Asked her about school, her best friend Kara (who was a plushie, but he'd never know) and what kind of cake she liked. Totally innocent. Picking up where they'd previously left off.
You checked for another note, and sure enough there was one. Hands trembling, you opened the twofold and started reading.
Dearest Mommy of the Prettiest Princess in the World,
You'd have appreciated the sarcasm if your knees weren't fighting the urge to buckle and give in from the dread.
I suppose I have scared you with my little request. Thus, the lack of letters from your end for the past couple weeks. I apologize for the same, I only realized the implications of my request afterwards. I meant no harm and would understand if you would like to stop completely.
You trusted the man as far as you could throw him. Considering you knew nothing about him; you decided even that was unreliable.
But once in a while, with your permission of course, if the little bunny draws any more pictures, I'd be very much interested in seeing them.
In sickness and in health,
Daddy
You huffed out a laugh at his audacity, feeling your chest deflate. Years spent trusting your instinct to protect your daughter had wound you so tight that feeling even a single knot loosen was enough to knock the breath out of your lungs.
As you posted your daughter's letter that Wednesday, you couldn't help but laugh at your inside joke, wondering how he'd take it. If his previous demeanor was anything to go by, you were guessing it'd be in stride.
"Mail!"
Complete silence filled the yard, all the inmates stopping where they were, at odds with how they'd usually be clawing over each other to get their mail first.
Because no one touched their letters till he had taken his.
The crowd parted like the red sea, hordes of men in orange clearing a path till the mailman who, for all the brave face he put on, was trembling in his pants as well. He could feel the bead of sweat on his back, lining his forehead as he watched him approach, praying to all the Gods up in Heaven that someone- anyone had written this man a letter.
When he'd realized there was no letter for him, yet again, no one had been allowed to take theirs. Not because he forbade them, but because they were scared of what he'd do.
He'd not raised his voice, barely bothered looking intimidating and yet no one stood in his vicinity as he carded through the envelopes, not finding one for himself before asking in a saccharine tone "Are you sure you didn't misplace any?"
The first week, the mailman had been cocky, confident. He'd tched as he snatched the mail back, wondering why no one else was stepping forward "Don't blame me just 'cuz there ain't a letter for you in here ya bloke"
But when no one else stepped forward to take their mail, all that confidence had wavered as he looked around at downcast eyes, no one willing to risk upsetting him any more than he already was.
For the past two weeks, inmates had been avoiding him like the plague. He wasn't amiable on any day but if he didn't receive his letters on Friday, it was a long weekend for all of them.
Especially the ones who challenged him in the ring on Saturday nights.
The second week, it was a similar outcome. The mailman didn't understand what exactly was going on but the nervous, fidgety energy of the inmates was making him nervous as he watched him go through the envelopes and come up empty.
This time he'd just raised an eyebrow, making the mailman sweat "I didn't misplace any!" The desperation and fear ringing clear in his voice.
He'd smiled, crimson eyes glimmering in the sunlight "No one's blaming you" He'd turned around but the wind still carried over the last word "Yet"
The mailman had found himself rechecking for any lost envelopes thrice. He didn't know what would become of him if he returned another week without a letter.
Everyone waited with bated breath as he flipped through the stack of mail the mailman had just handed over and a collective sigh of relief escaped when he plucked out a measly white envelope, lips lifting in a sinister smirk as he handed the rest of the stack back, uncaring of the crowd descending on the poor mailman now that they had the green signal.
He returned to his cell, littered with drawings lining the walls surrounding a single bed, desk and chair. His fingers were twitching with excitement as he tore open the envelope and three things fell out.
He picked up the one on the top first. His daughter had written back to him finally, describing in great detail that she had won a finger-painting competition in school, that Kara came second, her favorite cake was "stroubery". A wry smile lifted his lips at the little sketch of the cake next to the text with cherries lining the top.
Like always, she'd signed it
Luv u forehver
Princess Bunny
He admired your resolute, truly. Your daughter's writing was so dark that it would leave indents behind the paper and yet, you'd erase her name so cleanly every time that despite multiple attempts at shading over the lines of the pencil indents, he was yet to figure out her name.
Picking up the second letter, he couldn't help the smirk spreading over his lips when he saw what you'd addressed it.
Dearest Daddy of the Prettiest Princess in the World,
God, he wanted to see you mouth off to him in person so bad.
I've attached a picture of her.
He was so surprised that he immediately dropped your letter to look at the polaroid you'd sent him. One he stared at for all of two seconds before throwing his head back and barking with laughter, unable to help himself as his shoulders shook with mirth.
Beautiful, isn't she?
She looks forward to your letters so I suppose you can keep sending them.
In happiness and in sorrow,
Mommy
Resting his forehead on the letter, he could faintly smell the perfume lingering on it and wondered what you looked like. He'd spent almost every day since your first letter wondering who you could possibly be. Sure, he had no reason to lie here and actually complete his sentence, he could get out whenever he wanted but he looked forward to his daughter's letters. There was no fun in finding out who you were through Luke and Keiran when he was sure he could get you to come to him. And you would. Slowly but surely.
As he pinned up the latest letter next to the others, he also pinned the polaroid next to it, unable to escape the huff of laughter escaping him when he gazed at the ultrasound.
Sylus would make you his. There was simply no other option.
Dearest Mommy of the Prettiest Princess in the World,
She is, indeed the most beautiful little princess I've ever seen. She takes after her mother, I'm sure. For research purposes, would you be willing to provide evidence I can submit?
To have and to hold,
Daddy
Dearest Daddy of the Prettiest Princess in the World,
Do you want my ultrasound too?
For better or for worse,
Mommy
Dearest Mommy of the Prettiest Princess in the World,
I don't mind. Although, I'll admit I usually save the ultrasounds for a third date.
For richer or for poorer,
Daddy
Dearest Daddy of the Prettiest Princess in the World,
Unfortunately for you, I don't have those ultrasounds or a third date for you.
To love and to cherish,
Mommy
Dearest Mommy of the Prettiest Princess in the World,
Why don't we start at a first one then? I would like to know the color of your eyes.
Till' death do us part,
Daddy
A/N: This has been marinating in my drafts for two months now. Time to unlock multiple chapter fics<3
If you hold back one more cough, you might actually explode.
It’s day three of pretending you aren’t sick because the second Nanami finds out, he’ll abandon work entirely and hover over you like a mother hen.
You know how important his job is to him. Even after exhausting shifts and bruises hidden beneath dress shirts, he still insists on working so hard to give you the best life possible.
Usually, you can handle a slight fever on your own, but today feels different.
You wake up drenched in sweat despite feeling a violent chill throughout your body. Bonnet half way across the room, and head throbbing where it rests against the pillow.
The short walk to the bathroom nearly kills you. And by the time you stumble back into bed your body gives out against the mattress, trembling from the effort.
You curl beneath the blankets, dizzy and exhausted, using the last of your strength to order chicken soup and tea from a nearby restaurant.
You try to stay awake until it arrives but your eyelids are heavy and eventually you succumb to sleep.
—
The vibration of your phone buzzing against your cheek jolts you awake sometime later.
Oh shit. The food.
You try sitting up too fast and immediately regret it. Every muscle in your body aches. There’s absolutely no way you’re making it to the front door. Groaning, you scroll through your contacts before pressing the only person nearby enough to help.
The call rings twice.
“Heyy, how’s my favorite nanami,” Satoru’s sing-song voice answers cheerfully. “Have you finally come to your senses and realized im the better sorceror?”
Your short laugh is cut off by a cough so hard it rattles your chest.
He pauses.
“…Why do you sound like that?”
“Please tell me you’re on lunch break already,” you mumble weakly. “I ordered food but I’m too sick to go to the door, can you stop by the apartment to bring it inside for me? Pleaseee? I’ll owe you.”
Across the office, Nanami looks up from the paperwork in front of him the second he hears your voice through Gojo’s speaker.
The disappointment in his voice somehow feels worse than anger.
You hear rustling, then keys.
“I’m coming home.”
“Ken—”
The line disconnects.
—
Exactly twenty minutes later you hear the front door unlock.
Nanami walks in carrying multiple bags you definitely didn’t order. Besides your tea and soup he carries a plastic bag filled with medicine, electrolyte drinks, and basically enough supplies to survive a mini apocalypse. You’d roll your eyes at his antics if it wasn’t hard enough keeping them open.
His tie is gone. Sleeves rolled to his elbows. Hair slightly disheveled like he ran straight from work.
The second he sees you trying to sit up, his face tightens.
“Don’t you dare get up.”
You still try anyway.
He’s at your bedside instantly, one hand against your forehead, the other steadying your shoulder as he gently pushes you back into the pillows.
“You’re burning up,” he mutters, brows pinching together. “How long has this been going on?”
“…Three days.”
Nanami goes completely still.
“Three,” he repeats flatly.
You wince under the weight of his stare.
The exhaustion in his face twists into shame.
“Fuck. What kind of husband am I if I don't even notice you’re sick?”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Why’d you hide it from me?”
“Because you would’ve called out of work.”
“I would have.”
There’s no hesitation in his answer.
That’s what gets you. He’s not even frustrated.Just genuinely hurt that you were suffering alone while he sat completely unaware.
His expression softens slightly when he notices yours crumpling.
He sighs quietly, sweeping your braids behind you. “What am I supposed to do with you?”
Despite the scolding tone, he carefully opens the soup container, testing the temperature before handing it to you.
When your shaking hands struggle to hold it steadily, Nanami simply takes the spoon back with another quiet sigh.
“Cmere, open your mouth.”
You shoot him a weak glare but obey anyway, letting him feed you spoonful after spoonful while he watches carefully to make sure you eat enough.
The warmth of the soup settles heavily in your stomach, exhaustion pulling at you all over again.
Nanami notices immediately.
Without a word, he sets the container aside before piling blankets around you.
He leans down then, pressing a lingering kiss against your feverish forehead.
“You should’ve called me first,” he says quietly against your skin.
Guilt twists in your chest. “I didn’t want you worrying.”
“That was never your decision to make. You’re my wife. I love you and i’ll always worry about you.
“Mm sorry Ken, I love you too, I just didn’t want to be a burden.”
The words come out slurred with exhaustion, barely above a whisper.
Nanami’s expression softens immediately.
“A burden?” he pulls away slightly, like the thought itself burns him.
His hand slides up to cradle the side of your face, thumb brushing beneath your eye with careful affection.
“You being sick is not an inconvenience to me.”
You blink tiredly up at him while he adjusts the blankets tighter around your shoulders, making sure not even a sliver of cold air gets through.
“I take care of you because I want to,” he continues. “Not because I have to.”
The fever leaves you too drained to hide how much the words affect you. Your eyes sting slightly as you lean further into his touch.
Nanami notices, of course he does.
“Baby,” he coos softly, brushing his lips against your forehead once more. “Don’t cry now.”
“I’m not,” you mumble weakly, voice wobbling.
A rare hint of amusement flickers across his face.
“You’re a terrible liar, love.”
Before you can argue, he slips into bed beside you fully clothed, ignoring your weak protest about getting him sick. He simply pulls you carefully against his chest, tucking your head under his chin as one arm wraps securely around your waist.
“Next time you feel like this, I’m your first call. Understand?”
You hesiate. “…Even if you’re working?”
“Especially if I’m working.”
You let out a tired hum of agreement, curling closer into his chest.
“Good,” he says quietly. “Next time your first instinct should be your husband, not the six-foot manchild.
sukuna is not happy about piercing your daughters ears :c
(reposted from mimuju! art by @/sgtbake_r on X)
"no. absolutely not. you're not touching her."
sukuna's voice is a low growl, his massive arms wrapped protectively around your toddler daughter in the piercing chair. the lady with the piercing gun pauses, eyes wide at the tattooed giant glaring daggers from his spot beside you.
she's tiny, maybe 2, all chubby cheeks and wild pink hair like her dad's, dressed in a frilly dress you picked out for her "big girl day," complete with little mary janes. you've been hyping it up for weeks—tiny sparkly studs, nothing crazy, just simple diamonds to match her eyes. but sukuna? he's been grumbling since you suggested it, muttering about "barbaric customs" and "ruining perfection."
"baby, it's just earrings," you say softly, squeezing his knee under the counter. "she'll look so cute! and it'll heal fast. millions of girls get this done."
he shoots you a look, all four eyes narrowing under those sharp black brows. "she's a baby. babies don't need holes poked in their heads. what if it gets infected? what if she hates it?" but he doesn't move, holding her steady on his lap, her little hands clutching his black shirt, babbling happily at the shiny gun like it's a toy.
the piercing lady smiles nervously, gun ready, trying to lighten the mood. "it'll be quick, sir. one little pop on each side. she's been great so far."
sukuna huffs, his breath ruffling your daughter's hair, but he nods once, jaw clenched so tight you see the muscle tick. "fine. make it painless or i'll make you regret it. i am unlike my wife, i have no mercy for mortals."
you bite back a laugh, watching him brace like he's facing a battlefield. the lady counts down—three, two, one—and pops the first stud through your daughter's earlobe. instant wail. a piercing cry that echoes in the small shop, her face scrunching up beet red, fat tears rolling down her chubby cheeks, little legs kicking wildly.
sukuna freezes, body going rigid, then twitches like he's been shot himself. "what the fuck was that?!" he snarls, his free hand slamming the counter hard enough to make the jewelry displays rattle, tattoos rippling across his skin like living shadows. all four eyes lock on the lady like he's about to curse her into oblivion right there. "do that again and you're fucking dead, you hear me?"
the poor woman stammers, the cheap piericng gun trembling in her hands, face paling. "i-it's normal! just the shock! she's fine, look—the second one's done already, see?" she pops the other ear quick as lightning, and your daughter's tiny fists flailing at the air, her cries turning into quiet hiccups.
you can't help it—you burst out giggling, hand over your mouth, tears in your eyes from laughing. "kuna, oh my god— she's fine! look, sparkles already! she's got her earrings, see how pretty?"
he ignores you completely, scooping her up fully into his massive arms, cradling her against his broad chest like she's made of glass. his glare stays pinned on the lady for a long beat, utterly murderous, promising vengeance, before it softens instantly on his girl.
"shh, shh, my little princess. daddy's got you. that mean lady's gone forever, i swear it." he rocks her gently side to side, his huge hand patting her back in slow circles, the other stroking her wild pink hair with surprising tenderness. her cries taper to sniffly hiccups, soothed by his deep rumble of a voice humming some ancient, gravelly lullaby from his cursed past, the kind only you know about.
you lean in, kissing his stubbled cheek, still chuckling softly. "she won't even remember this tomorrow. but you'll be telling the story for years, won't you, kuna?"
he grunts, still shooting one last glare over his shoulder at the lady as you pay and gather her things. "no more piercings. ever." but he presses a soft kiss to her tiny forehead, her sparkly new earrings catching the shop lights like stars, and you know he's already melting inside, utterly whipped for his perfect little girl.
masterlist. back after my 5 month hiatus bc of school. graduated last week and really hope I can pump out a lot of fics to make up for the 5 months. good to be back
girl dad!nanami who is a proud father of two perfect angles and a proud husband to you. nanami was so thrilled when you first told him you were pregnant. he span you around and kissed you deeply. his daughters are his absolute joy. he has a picture of you and his daughters in his wallet and likes to show you off when he needs to.
girl dad!nanami who deals with having to flip the entire house looking for a plushie. one of them is following behind him, quiet tears rolling down her chubby cheeks and sniffling very loudly as nanami's checking under the cushions. he sighs for the nth time then looks at his daughter and carries her in his arms trying to soothe her. "it's okay darling, we'll get you another one..."
"but i want that one...". safe to say the plushie was safely tucked beneath her blankets.
girl dad!nanami who's heart swells when he's met with his two girls as soon as he comes back home. as soon as he says the words 'i'm home' the girls are quick to rush to the front door and trap his legs in a hug while you're walking up to him slowly with the prettiest smile. his daughters bombard him with questions and take his bag and one even offers to take his coat. he thinks they're absolute angels talking his ear off as they swing on his legs. his energy is quickly restored after such a tiresome shift.
girl dad!nanami who's jolted awake on the regular when one of them has a nightmare. "daddy...daddy...can you move?... i want to sleep here too". nanami hears her soft voice and quickly sits up and picks her up.
"you had a nightmare?", he asks and she nods, fisting his shirt, her breath irregular. he pats her head and kisses her forehead multiple times. "it's okay. i'm here for you...you're safe". nanami places her gently next to you and only falls back asleep when she does.
girl dad!nanami who enjoys preparing the girl's lunches. he's up before you anyways so why not bother. nanami makes sure that they have a nutritious lunch packed with enough protein, vitamins and greens. and if they've been good all week, maybe some candy. nanami also checks if their water bottles are empty after school. they have to be we'll hydrated if they want to grow up healthy.
girl dad!nanami who reads bedtime stories to both of them while they're leaning against him on either side. he's reading the story slowly and changing his voice slightly for the characters so they can have a little fun. and when they both finally fall asleep, he has no problem carrying them to their beds. he just can't get enough of them.
girl dad!nanami who put together a playhouse in their room over the course of a week. you were both out shopping with the kids at their uncle's (satoru) and he spots the playhouse. "you think the girls are gonna love this?", he points to it with a serious look on his face.
"i'm sure they would, ken. a playhouse would be great for them". and the next thing he knows, he's walking out with the huge box and quickly gets to work as soon as he's home. when the girls come back a week later they run into their room to find nanami placing the finishing touches. the girls squeal and run to nanami locking him in a hug as a bunch of thank yous and i love yous spill from their lips as his heart is quietly exploding.
girl dad!nanami who reprimands them when they do something wrong even though it hurts him. he never yells, never uses harsh words but he knows how to get the point across. the part he hates the most is when they look up at him with glassy eyes and a sad pout as they apologize for what they did wrong. nanami wants to pick them up and hug and kiss them but he doesn't because he knows that they should acknowledge what they did wrong.
girl dad!nanami who randomly says that he wants another one as you're curled up in bed. he's just tucked the girls in bed and comes up to you holding you close, face in your chest. "another one wouldn't be so bad, right honey?"
"you really want a third?? you are whipped. those girls are going to be the death of you"
Upcoming in part two: Higuruma Hiromi, Fushiguro Megumi (aged up!), Ryomen Sukuna, Okkotsu Yuta (aged up!).
Warnings: noncon/dubcon, implied past noncon, MDNI, forced pregnancy, yandere, unprotected s*x, p in v, rough sex, fingering, oral (f.receiving), clit stimulation, cult themes (suguru), captivity, emotional manipulation, comfort(?), tantrums, mentions of terminating pregnancy, gaslighting, mindbreaking, stockholm syndrome, dd:dne.
WC: 6.2k // based on this request.
do not normalize or romanticize dark content irl.
GETO SUGURU.
You cannot remember how long it has been.
A month, two months? The concept of time has been lost in between these walls, blending into one mushy mess that drove you insane.
The only way you could keep some sort of track was with the meals being served to you, breakfast would be something light, lunch would be rice, and for dinner, Suguru accompanies you and stays with you throughout the night.
You sometimes wish you could turn back time to the day you came across him. You remember accompanying your friend to a cult meeting as a ‘joke’ after she convinced you to because she too got recruited by the followers— only that by the end, it wasn't you guys who were laughing.
You unfortunately caught the eye of the leader of the cult, who became enamored and obsessed with you, and your friend— brainwashed, gave you away just like that.
The joke turned deadly, having stumbled into a world you had no business being in. You shouldn't have ever agreed to it, now that reckless action cost you your freedom.
You flinched when you heard the door open, the sound of the material scruffing against the floor pierced your ears, followed by a soft thud on the flooring as the man of your nightmares stepped inside.
You stared at him, eyes devoid of any emotion as he took careful strides towards you, behind him was a servant that carried the tray of food.
It was dinner time.
But lately you haven't been feeling like eating anything, you thought it may be because you didn't have an appetite, you did, but the food felt disgusting to eat, you were craving something else.
And not to mention the increased nausea and vomiting? You were convinced that one of the servants is trying to poison you, after all, they probably are jealous of you having their master's attention all to yourself. It isn't unlikely.
Suguru sat down on the soft cushion laid upon the wooden flooring as the servant arranged the food on top of the rectangular floor table. Suguru stared at your huddled form on the bed.
“Are you not going to eat?” His voice made you jump slightly, you stared down from the bed and buried your face in your knees, shaking your head no.
You felt nauseous looking at the food.
You hear the shuffling of clothes before you hear footsteps approaching you, your head is then lifted up by Suguru. His touch was gentle as he hooked a finger underneath your chin.
“Why not?” He asks, but doesn't give you enough time to answer him before he's lifting you off the bed and taking you to the table, settling you down beside him, followed by him sitting down after.
Your mouth goes dry, not a single word coming out of it as you try to explain why you did not want to eat. Your stomach churned at the sight of food, you were craving something more sour than whatever was served here.
Suguru is patient, waiting for you to speak as his eyes gaze over to your form, trailing from your quivering lips to your neck which was covered in hickeys and bruises from his actions last night.
He felt himself getting aroused at the battered state of you.
His eyes quickly flicked back to yours, something suddenly clicking in his brain. He looks at the servant, whispering something into their ear before they rush off, leaving the room.
“I- I don't know, I've not had an appetite lately.” You finally manage to speak, “The food tastes sickening. Almost as if I'm being poisoned.” You add.
“Is your period late?” He asks, and you are taken aback, wondering why the conversation is deterring that way, but you nod nonetheless.
“It's three weeks late, probably due to stress.” You speak.
Just then the servant comes in, and goes over to Suguru, handing him what he requested. He places it on top of the table.
A pregnancy test.
The implication was clear as day.
“I think you might be overthink—”
“Take the test.” You are cut off by him, you reluctantly grab it, going to the attached bathroom before doing as needed.
You walk out, bringing the test along and just waiting.
A faint singular line appears on it, making you sigh out of relief.
“See I told you—” You began, but immediately shut up when another line appeared on the test.
No.
The world went silent for the entire time, your ears began ringing as the realisation dawned on you. Suguru smiled.
And then it happened— you broke down completely. All of a sudden your reality dawns on you, your freedom, your autonomy, everything is now completely gone.
All because of him.
The fetus wasn't even a result of love for you to feel anything towards it, you already had enough on your plate.
You grab one of the utensils, aiming it at Suguru, trying to stab him, the pure adrenaline makes you want to kill him, but you fail to stab, he is much stronger than you, he easily stops you, grabbing your wrist and prying the weapon from your hand. You slap him in the face with your free hand.
The servant was shocked to see this, Suguru's face remained on the side as his cheek became red, he blinked, as if trying to process what you just did.
“Leave.” He commands the servant cooly and the servant immediately obeys, the grip on your hand tightens as he lifts you up and throws you onto the bed.
“Do I need to teach you your place again?” He begins to strip, voice still soft as ever as you struggle beneath him. Protests leave your mouth but are cut off when you feel him press himself against your clothes cunt.
Why was he hard?
Your eyes widened as you stared into his eyes. He wasn't mad in the slightest, for slapping him, for trying to stab him, no, he was turned on. You could see it in his eyes.
The only question that was on your mind was why.
“Fuck off, don't touch me!” You grit your teeth, spewing the words in anger, trying to control the rage that's simmering beneath your skin.
“Your mouth is as nasty as ever.” He comments, grabbing you by your chin and tutting. “You'd be a bad influence on the kid.” He shakes his head. You furrow your brows. That is the last thing you can care about.
Suguru leans forward pressing an open mouthed kiss to your lips before he pushes you further onto the bed, grabbing your arms and pinning them to the side so you cannot push him away. He climbs on top of you and continues to kiss you.
He pushes your shirt up, revealing your breasts. He grabs them roughly, pinching your nipples in between his index and thumb finger.
You hiss, suddenly feeling sensitive. Suguru notices and continues to twist the buds further before enveloping one of them in his mouth. His other hand leaves your breast and travels down towards your cunt, sneaking underneath the waistband of your pants and dipping into the crevice.
You gasp when you feel his cold fingers press against your clit, he begins to rub it slowly, moving it up and down and in small circles, you can feel yourself growing wet down there and it makes you feel ashamed. Suguru pummels one of the fingers into your sensitive cunt suddenly, making you arch your back and let out a gasp as his pace is brutal.
His fingers dig into your walls, brushing up against your sweet spot multiple times, making tears flow out of your eyes at the situation you're in. You can't fight back, he's way too strong.
The pressure builds up in your stomach as he continues his assault, it doesn't take long before you come undone, your juices coat his fingers as he fingers you through your orgasm before pulling them out and licking them clean. He leans down and presses a kiss to your abdomen.
You felt ashamed.
Suguru decides to not take you that night, giving you time and space to adjust to the news, only that— you never did, how can you? No matter how many orgasms he gives you to clear your ‘hysteria' it doesn't work like that. You fall back into depression immediately after, he doesn't realise he is making it much worse.
He removed any sharp objects and mirrors to prevent you from hurting yourself after you tried to, one time, making sure the room is safely padded.
He would sit beside you, trying to comfort you, his heart wrenching in pain when your sobs don't stop, it almost makes him feel bad. Almost.
He does everything he could, and when he realises you aren't getting any better— he starts to lose his patience.
“This is supposed to be a beautiful thing. You're ruining it.” He sighs, rolling his eyes as he watches your belly, it has increased significantly in size, after all it has been months.
“I don't want it.” You reply, same thing you've constantly been saying since the beginning.
“Too late, maybe you'll change your mind once you give birth.” He cooed into your ear and the suggestion alone made you burst out crying again.
He could be right, but you didn't know, because the only thing on your mind were prayers that this baby dies at childbirth. You don't feel any love for it. You just feel disgusting.
But alas, your prayers do not work.
──────────────────────
GOJO SATORU.
You stared at the ceiling with a blank expression, gazing over Satoru's shoulder who was currently on top of you, biting away at your shoulder as he left his marks on you.
He lays trails of kisses down from your shoulder to your breasts, trying to get you to feel his affection. This would of course be sweet if weren't for the fact that your hands are tied to the bedframe.
And if he wasn't your captor.
You let out a small shriek when you feel him bite your clit, you wondered how he got there so quickly in the blink of an eye.
He sticks his tongue out before pressing it flat against your pussy, making you curl your toes in arousal. You try to close your legs but he uses his hands to keep them open, resting them on your inner thighs as he fully engulfs your clit into his mouth. You arch your back, involuntarily pushing your hips into his face as the sensation of his tongue swirling and suckling your bud sends heatwaves across your body.
He groans in satisfaction, licking and grazing his teeth against your folds, you hated the fact that it aroused you so much, that he knew your sensitive spot and knew exactly how to pleasure you. You hated that he knows your body so well. I guess months of forcing himself does indeed make him accustomed to it.
The reminder made it even more disgusting that you were enjoying what he was doing to you, but you couldn't help it, no matter how much you try to fight it— the pleasure always blinds you for the moment, and the blindness is so addicting.
You are brought back to the current moment when you feel him nip down harshly, before spitting on your clit, and scooping the mixed juices back up with his tongue and swallowing it.
It felt nasty to watch but couldn't look away.
The band in your stomach tightened before snapping entirely, and it wasn't long before you were gushing, fluid leaking from your cunt.
You just squirted.
You felt embarrassed as you watched Satoru's expression, he was smug about it. He always loved it when you squirted because it confirmed to him that were enjoying what he did to you.
He comes face to face with you again, before his hands reach out and undo the shackles on your wrists, you rub your wrists, watching the dents that the material left on them.
“You know I didn't notice before, but from that angle, your lower abdomen seems to have protruded out further.” He speaks, wiping the juices away from his mouth. You furrowed your brows.
“As if you're pregnant.” He added and your eyes widened, panic filling in them as you shook your head.
“No, no, it's probably just bloat.” You told him, shaking your head vigorously.
“Well, just to be sure, right?” He gets up off you, going to his discarded pants on the ground and pulling out a pregnancy test from its pocket.
“There is no need for that, I'm not pregnant.” You shake your head, refusing to take the test, afraid of the results. He doesn't listen, shoving the test into your hands.
You reluctantly go to the bathroom to take it.
Time passes painfully slowly, each second feeling agonizing, and then the results show. Your entire world collapses around you as you look at the two lines, you shake your head, discarding it into the bin in the bathroom, believing it to be faulty.
“So?” Satoru waits, now wearing his boxers, arms crossed as he waits for your answer, but you don't reply, making him sigh in annoyance before he pushes past you and goes into the bathroom.
The entire mood shifts when he exits, he immediately grabs you, pulling you into a tight hug. This excitement wasn't contained at all, his bright blue eyes shone even brighter— which you didn't know could be possible as he gave you a huge smile. But it dropped when he saw your expression.
The expression of horror.
You shove him away, frantically pacing around the room.
“No, it cannot be, I'm not pregnant, I can't be pregnant.” You mutter, clutching your hair in a tight grip. You weren't ready, you would've never been ready for this even in a thousand years. Satoru always used a condom when he fucked you, so how did this happen? Unless he deliberately— and then realization hit you.
You've never actually seen a used condom be thrown away. But you swore you saw him putting it on, though it was always off by the end. You just assumed he took it off immediately after he was done.
Satoru looks at you blankly, watching you connect the pieces together.
Disgust churned in your gut.
“You fucking monster.” You cry out, hate filling in your gut as you grab a nearby object and throw it at him, which obviously doesn't end up hitting him.
You begin to collapse mentally, the justification you made for his actions towards you previously— all melted away as the actual truth and cruelty dawned on you.
“I hate you.” You spew, you were seeing red.
“It's not that bad of a thing you know? We get to have a family?” He questions, as if realising that he shouldn't have deceived you because the way you are reacting right now is something he did not expect.
He begins to feel bad.
“Not bad? Oh fuck off. Fuck off. Genuinely fuck off.” You ramble on, not being able to form proper words, your knees finally give up and you collapse to the floor, clutching yourself together as you cry, hitting yourself in the stomach repeatedly.
“I don't want this, I don't want this, I don't want this, I don't want this…” You repeatedly whisper, each punch becoming stronger and more painful but then your hands are grabbed away by Satoru, he lifts you off the ground, throwing you onto the bed and placing the shackles back on you again, he was looking at you as if you had gone insane.
You writhe, kicking him and trying to get away, but you fail. So you spew cruel words at him. Satoru didn't mind, he was used to it, it's what you first did when he captured you.
He felt like he fucked up when you were finally warning up to him.
Doubts began to circle in his mind, but one thing was for sure, he wasn't letting you kill the fetus. Maybe you just need time.
That's what he told himself.
Yet nothing changes as the months fly by, your resentment towards the kid only grows, Satoru has you tied up and removed all furniture from the room, he was paranoid that you'd hurt yourself. You've tried to, many times.
He curls up next to your exhausted form during nights, unable to sleep, he stares at your hollow eyes, you look sickly in your sleep, and it makes him feel guilty. His hand lays over your protruding belly, contemplating whether he should just kill the baby for your sake. He couldn't bear seeing you like this.
But then he changes his mind, shaking those thoughts away. Maybe you'll get along with the baby once it's born..
Again, something he told himself.
He was in denial.
For the first time in his life, he felt helpless, unable to do anything. He'd teleport to check on you constantly, it didn't matter what he was doing, he'd come home every fifteen minutes.
Your deterioration made him more frantic, he genuinely loved you, he didn't want to do this to you. Perhaps it was a stupid plan since the beginning, taking his condom off to get you pregnant. He only assumed that you'd be upset for a month or two, but he didn't realise how much he underestimated it.
It's like he killed a part of you.
The emotional exhaustion was evident in his face, his students began to question it, but he avoided answering it. He wanted to make things right again, but every time he places his hand over your belly to just terminate it using his own power— he just can't bring himself to do it. So he keeps you cuddled close. You break down crying into his chest every night, muttering how you don't want this.
“I know, I'm sorry, I know, I'm sorry.” Is all he could muster up as a reply to your turmoil.
He felt so disgustingly weak in front of you.
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NANAMI KENTO.
Nanami was a busy office man, drowning himself in corporate work in the day time and in the arms of his ‘wife’ during the night time, well if he could call her that cause the ‘marriage’ seems to onesided.
It's been months and you still haven't warmed up to him yet. He tried to be the loving husband so badly but you refuse to pay the part of a wife.
Well, technically, a true ‘loving husband’ wouldn't force himself on his wife every night but Nanami conveniently ignores that part, maybe if he stopped doing that you would warm up to him quicker? He just cannot bring himself to do that, it's against his morals too but he cannot help it— your cunt wrapped around his cock, squeezing him for all his worth is a sensation he'd become extremely addicted to.
Just the thought is enough to make the blood rush to his cock.
Maybe he should try practicing abstinence for a bit, cause he would need to hold himself back for weeks if not months once you give birth to the baby.
He wasn't sure if you were actually pregnant, but he'd noticed the symptoms before you did. Your missed period for three whole months is a dead give away for the theory in his mind, he wondered why you didn't suspect anything, probably because you were mellowing in the circumstances of your fate.
Which is why he was now standing in the middle of the aisle in a convenience store, trying to pick out a high quality pregnancy test. He finally picks one after a minute of pondering, going to the cashier and paying for the test.
He would be lying if he wasn't hoping that you'd be pregnant, he'd always wanted a domestic life, a kid or two with the person he loved, he wondered whose features the kid would inherit the most.
Thoughts like those ran through his mind as he took a taxi home, reaching the apartment before unlocking it and stepping inside.
The scent of food hit him first when he walked in, his tummy began to rumble in response as he walked further into the kitchen area, only to spot you setting up the table.
He wrapped his arms around you, which caused you to shriek and yelp in surprise, you zoned out way too much to realise the fact that Nanami was home. Your relaxed posture now became tense as you felt his lips press against the crook of your neck before travelling down your shoulder.
He turned you around, tucking a hair strand behind your ear before he leaned down to kiss you, pushing you against the table as you stood there frozen, letting him do what he wanted.
“Nanami— the food will go cold.” You broke the kiss, staring into his eyes, for a moment you felt a sense of comfort and normalcy only for it to go away just as quickly as it came.
“The food can wait, I'm hungry for something else.” He whispers before grabbing you, lifting you and taking you to the bedroom, you struggled in his hold, trying to break free.
He plops you down on the bed before climbing on top of you, pinning you down with his hands before he captures your lips again, he then undos your top, tearing at the fabric as he feels impatient.
“K-Kento— mmmf! no— stop. wait.” You try to speak but his mouth is pressed up against yours, making your sentences come out incoherently. You gasp when you feel him rip away at your bra before he moves onto your bottom half, dedicated to get you naked as quickly as possible.
You stop resisting, the hope of him never stopping flickering away the minute he tears away your panties, he isn't going to back down anymore.
He takes in your body, committing it to his memory before he unbuckles his pants, whipping out his cock and lining it up against your entrance.
You were dry down there.
So the invasion was more painful, you let out a quiet gasp at the pain, the fact that he was huge made it worse as he fully sheathed himself into your cunt, you felt his tip bump into your cervix.
You took deep breaths trying to soothe the ache, your vagina began to gush instinctively when he started moving to prevent the burning sensation from overwhelming your other senses.
Nanami's clothes rubbed against your naked body, you hated how he prefers to remain fully clothed sometimes, like an extra mile to make you feel as vulnerable as possible.
He begins to pound harder and faster while you stare up at the ceiling, all you could feel was his dick ramming inside and out fervently.
To say you were feeling aroused would be an overstatement, you couldn't really lose yourself in the pleasure when he skips foreplay, it doesn't get you aroused.
You feel ashamed at the thought of wanting foreplay from him, and wanting to feel aroused. You shouldn't be thinking about it in the first place, but it seems he's beginning to get to you now.
Nanami— as if he could read your thoughts— pushed a finger against your clit, which made you gasp in surprise. He began to rub your bud slowly but surely, scooping the wetness from your stretched hole and directing it towards your clit before rubbing the slimy fluid to it.
Your now swollen clit feels more sensitive than before due to the arousal creeping up your body. Nanami speeds up his fingers and his thrusts simultaneously.
You grab onto him, letting out gasps as you close your eyes and feel the pleasure burst in the abdomen, travelling all over your body in waves. You collapse inwards immediately, biting your lip as the high subsides.
Nanami finishes right after, pulling his cock out at the last moment and letting his cum spurt onto your clit. You found it odd that he pulled out, he usually doesn't.
He collapses on top of you, pressing your naked body against his clothed one, you could still smell the office scent on him, so mechanical and corporate.
After a few minutes of catching breath, Nanami gets up off you.
“Also—” He begins but immediately leaves the room right after, it takes a minute before he returns, carrying something that had hints of blue and pink.
“You might want to check something.” He pushes the test into your hands and you stare at it for a minute.
It's not like you didn't notice your symptoms, you just brushed them aside thinking nothing of them. Sometimes people could miss their periods for months due to stress, and you were in a stressful situation, so it made sense.
But the other symptoms are also persistent.
You went to the bathroom and took the test as instructed, praying that it comes out negative because you were not ready for a baby.
Yet, the test comes out positive and you could feel dread in your stomach, so you take the test back to Nanami, who seems to be happy at the result. You felt like throwing up, and you do.
You immediately rush back to the bathroom, followed by Nanami who murmurs a few panicked curses and goes to clean up the vomit from the bedroom floor. You take that as an opportunity to lock yourself in the bathroom, crying really loudly as you're wrecked with emotion and guilt.
You really cannot bring a baby into this world in a situation like this.
You did not want to play house with your captor.
You hear knocks on the bathroom door, to which you respond with a ‘Leave me alone.’ But Nanami doesn't listen. You wanted to be alone before you went insane.
Nanami breaks down the door panicked, thinking you were going to hurt yourself only to find you scooped up in the bathroom corner.
“Why can't you just fucking leave me alone!?” You shout, anger overtaking your feelings, all you asked was to be left alone and he couldn't even respect that.
“I- I'm sorry, I thought—” Before he could finish his sentence, you threw a shampoo bottle which you grabbed from nearby at him, screaming at him to leave you alone.
He does as you ask, leaving you alone to cry and sort out your feelings. You wanted to get rid of the baby, but you know damn well you cannot go anywhere unsupervised, you pity your situation.
Nanami switches everything instantly when he notices that you are not recovering from your deteriorating mental state, he begins to cook for you, make you food, and comfort you as you cry, hushing you whenever you talk about wanting to terminate your pregnancy— he's never letting that happen.
He takes good care of you, trying to convince you that everything will be okay, and that you do not have to worry about raising the child but doesn't realise the fucked up situation he's put you in. In his mind, it's all perfect, a wife, a child.
In your mind, it's hell, being forced to marry him, forced to give birth, you had no bodily autonomy, it made you feel so less of a human and more like a toy.
But he'll never understand that, the fact that he's robbing your autonomy, humanity and independence away from you, he thinks it will be fine, but it will never be fine.
Not with the path you both had travelled to reach the current situation.
──────────────────────
FUSHIGURO TOJI.
You clutched the toilet seat desperately as waves of nausea rippled through you, making you throw up whatever you had earlier today.
You couldn't figure out what was happening since you were dizzy, and plagued with constant fatigue and morning sickness. You were starting to suspect that something was very wrong with your body.
And you were right when you tried putting two and two together.
Missed periods, morning sickness, the constant fatigue.
You were most probably pregnant.
The thought alone made any sense of control you had for the past few months waver. You couldn't let Toji find out about this. You need to induce an abortion before he finds out.
But how will you do that?
Toji had only recently been allowing you to go out again, but all while keeping tabs on the places you're visiting, he would accompany you everywhere, the only place you could go alone was the convenience store located nearby. You clearly cannot get an abortion there, which would be the most convenient thing for you right now.
So you take a deep breath and go to the convenience store to buy a test, staring at the road makes you want to make a run for it, for your freedom, but Toji will know, you didn't know how he tracks your location, but somehow he can tell— and the last time you did try to run, he caught you, your freedom didn't even last 20 minutes.
That was a horrible memory, especially what he did to you after, you'd rather not experience that again, which makes you turn to the direction of your prison and make your way willingly to it.
As expected, the test on the counter stares at you, two bright lines confirming your pregnancy, which makes your heart thump in anxiety. You think of ways to get rid of it.
And then you hear a knock on the bathroom door, it seems Toji is back, you probably zoned out for a while. You immediately respond back with a ‘Yeah?’
“What are you doing in there?” He asked, always invading your privacy, he constantly needed to know what you were doing.
“I was planning to take a shower.” You reply, lying through your teeth, and then the handle turns which makes your gut drop, you shove the pregnancy test off the counter, making it fall before you kick it underneath the gap of the sink cabinet just as Toji enters the bathroom.
You stare at him wide eyed, trying to play it cool as you give him a smile. You could feel your heart hammer against your ribcage.
“Fucking hell, a shower without me?” He raises an eyebrow, a smirk creeping up his face, before his hands grab you by your shoulders.
The rest is routine for you, Toji forcing himself on you, you’re pushed up against the wall as he thrusts his enormous cock into your pussy. Your face is held pressed up against the marble tile by him, while the other grabs your hips, gripping tightly onto the flesh as he grunts into your ear.
“Look at this pretty cunt.” He whispers, pressing a kiss to your neck as he moves behind you. The soft sound of the shower is drowned out by the noises that you and Toji are producing.
You feel embarrassed at the way your cunt now practically just drips for him, for his intrusions, the wet noises it makes from the fiction feel like a big betrayal to your mind as your body is basically telling you that it has accepted him.
But the knowledge of pregnancy is now fucking up your brain too, the thought of having a baby with him almost doesn't sound bad anymore, especially when you're feeling all hot like this, your own brain is trying to delude and gaslight you too now as well.
His hand on the back of your head trails down to your front, grabbing your breast and giving it a squeeze before he rubs your nipple gently. Your mouth falls open at the sensation, noticing how you're much more sensitive now. You grab his hand, trying to pull it away but he pinches and then tugs on your nipple in a defiant manner, which makes you drop your hand immediately as the sensation of arousal washes over you.
You bite your lip, turning your head to face him before staring at him, the droplets of water dripped from his wet hair, sprinkling slightly with every movement he made, they shone beautifully underneath the light reflection, his eyes were shut close as if he was trying to focus more on the way your body feels morphed onto him.
He opens his eyes shortly after, catching your gaze on him. You couldn't figure out why you did what you did but the minute he made eye contact with you— you kissed him, craning your neck to the side before you grabbed his face with your hand and pushed him forward to access his lips. He seemed to be very surprised by this but didn't complain, grunting in satisfaction as he kissed you with an unexplainable hunger.
To him it felt like you were finally accepting your fate.
His thrusts sped up rapidly, hitting your g-spot constantly, he puts you in a headlock before burying his face into the crook of your neck.
Both your orgasms hit at the same time, you cling on to him, holding him so you don't fall while he finishes deep inside you, you can feel his load invade your insides.
Toji lets you recover for a minute before you both wash up and get out of the shower, you leave the bathroom first, leaving Toji to finish up, and go to the bedroom, burying yourself in the pillows as the reality now hits you.
You caress your stomach gently, almost feeling bad, but this needed to be done, you weren't ready, the situation isn't sane enough to birth a child, you cannot just give birth just because sex with him is starting to feel good.
You watch him return wearing a bathroom before he hops down next to you and places his hand on your stomach.
“I hope I wasn't too rough, I didn't know you were pregnant.” His smooth voice cuts through the air, making everything go silent, the background noises now replaced by a ringing in your head.
“I found the test underneath the sink counter, the blue was peaking out so obviously.” He says, “Were you planning to surprise me? Or were you trying to hide it from me?” He questions and you swallow a lump in your throat.
“I— I no. I'm not, I'm not fucking having this baby.” You blurt out, unable to form any excuses and just speaking your mind. Toji’s face drops, and you can feel the mood shift.
“You are.” He affirms with just two words.
“No, I am not.” You begin freaking out, pushing yourself away from him but he grabs you.
“I cannot let you do that to my child.” His fingers grip your arm tightly as he leans in closer and you shake your head no, pushing him away roughly. You kick him, thrash in his hold but he doesn't react, reacting as if he's just dealing with a mere bug.
You cry, the emotion finally overwhelming you, broken sobs fill the air as your chest is wrecked with emotions, you couldn't breathe.
“Do not even fucking try to go behind my back, you don't want to be chained up like before.” His words make you go silent, you try to hold back your sobs, now soft gasps leaving your mouth as your breathing becomes more irregular.
He kept you chained up for a month when you tried to escape initially— misuse of the freedom he deemed, which led you to be tied up in the bed for a month straight. It was humiliating since he didn't let you go to do anything, even biological processes.
The most agonizing time would be when he left for work, every second would feel like an hour just laying on the bed, hands tied, he would sometimes loosen the ropes so your arms don't cramp up when he returned from work. You spent 30 days like that.
Those 30 days felt like years.
It was a humiliation ritual.
And not to mention, it took you three more weeks extra to walk again. You found it so scary how your body can just forget things if you didn't do it often.
You don't want that to happen again.
Toji takes your silence as your understanding before he presses a kiss to your head, cuddling you to sleep.
The next nine months flow by with little to no comfort from him, you'd constantly have breakdowns alleviated by your hormones, you quit your attempts to get rid of the baby, but your mental state deteriorated, as if the baby was sucking it out of you.
And then the birth happened.
You could only stare at the sight of Toji hugging the child, a smile grazing his lips and a never before seen glint of emotion in his eyes. It would be such a cute moment if you didn't feel dead on the inside.
If everything happened as a result of love and not kidnapping and noncon. Maybe you wished that Toji would've waited a few more months, maybe you would've been more ready, more willing.
Because back then, you were just beginning to love him—
Wait what.
You shook your head, shaking off the thought.
Right, you could never love the man that ruined your life now.
𝓲𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 ♰ you're so feverishly, impossibly hot that nanami, your husband, is losing his mind, trembling and rambling as he completely falls apart inside you.
✿ ◞◟) nanami kento 𝓍 female!reader
𝓬𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 18+ [ MDNI! ], explicit sexual content, established relationship, husband!nanami, unprotected sex (p in v), lots of kisses, praise & sweet talking, reader has a fever and nanami is losing his mind (fever-induced heat kink undertones), crying during orgasm, creampie, nanami is deeply in love.
nanami kento has always been a man of control.
he's precise in the kitchen, methodical with his huge hands, patient in the way he loves you — slow and thorough and devastatingly intentional. even in bed, even when he's buried so deep inside you that you completely forget where you end and he begins, there's a restraint to him; a gentleness, as if nanami is always holding back just enough to make sure you're okay, to make sure you're with him, to make sure he doesn't break you by accident.
but tonight is different.
tonight, you're burning up.
it started this morning — a little fatigue, a little flush in your cheeks that nanami kissed anyway before heading to work. by the time he came home, you were curled on the couch with a blanket and glassy eyes, the thermometer reading 102.3 and your smile still bright enough to make nanami’s chest ache. he'd made you soup, forced water into your hands, tucked you into bed with extra pillows and a cool cloth for your forehead.
the perfect husband, as always, all quiet concern and warm palms against your skin.
but then you'd pulled him down by the collar of his shirt, fever-bright and insistent, and whispered "kento, please" against his mouth, and something in him cracked.
nanami tried to be reasonable. he tried to tell you that you needed rest, that you were sick, that this could wait, but you'd just shaken your head and hooked your leg around his hip, and the sound you made when he'd accidentally pressed against you — half groan, half whimper, all desperate need — had shot straight to his dick like a live wire.
so now here he is.
here he is, kneeling between your thighs on the rumpled sheets of your shared bed, the soft glow of the bedside lamp painting everything in shades of gold and amber. here he is, watching you completely fall apart beneath him, your skin flushed an impossible pink, your lips parted and wet and whispering his name like a prayer.
and here he is, losing his goddamn mind.
because you're hot. not just in the way you always are — the way that made him fall in love with you in the first place, the way that still makes his breath catch when you smile at him across the dinner table — but actually, physically hot. like a furnace, like sin wrapped in skin and slick heat and the kind of wet that has him groaning before he's even all the way inside.
nanami sinks into you slow — he always does, because well… he's nanami kento and he believes in savoring things, in making them last — but the moment the head of his cock pushes past your entrance, he freezes.
"f-fuck," nanami breathes, and his voice cracks on the word, splinters right down the middle.
you're so warm.
you’re so impossibly, unbearably warm; it's like slipping into a bath that's just this side of too hot, the kind of heat that steals your breath and makes your muscles go liquid. your walls flutter around him, clenching and pulsing like you're trying to pull him deeper, and he has to brace one hand against the headboard just to keep from collapsing on top of you.
"kento?" your voice is soft, hazy, your eyes half-lidded and glassy in a way that has nothing to do with the fever and everything to do with him. "you okay?"
nanami laughs — it was a short, broken sound that's half sob, half something else entirely.
"am i okay?" he repeats, like you've asked him the most ridiculous question in the world. "sweetheart, you're—"
his hips twitch, an involuntary little thrust that sinks him another inch deeper, and the sound you make is so sweet, so wrecked, that he has to close his eyes.
"you're so hot. inside. it's—god, it's like—"
nanami can't even finish the sentence, he doesn't have the words for what it feels like. the heat is radiating through him, climbing up his spine, settling low in his belly like embers catching flame. every single nerve ending is on fire, every muscle pulled taut, and he hasn't even started moving yet.
you shift beneath him, trying to take more of him, and your hand comes up to cup nanami’s jaw, your thumb brushing over his cheekbone. your skin is warm too — not as searing as the rest of you, but warm enough to make him lean into your touch like the tide answering the moon.
"then move," you say, simple as anything else, like you haven't just turned nanami’s entire world inside out. "kento, please. i want you to move."
he's never been able to deny you anything, so he moves.
slow at first — because nanami is trying, he's really trying, to keep some semblance of control. he pulls out until only the tip of his cock remains, then pushes back in with a steady, rolling movement that has you arching off the bed, your nails digging into his shoulders. the wet sounds are obscene, amplified by the quiet of the room, and every single one of them makes his stomach clench with want.
but it's the heat that undoes nanami.
every single thrust feels like coming home and getting burned at the same damn time.
your body is so hot inside, so slick and welcoming and tight, and nanami can feel the fever radiating off you in hot waves; it's in the way your breath stutters against his neck, in the way your legs shake where they're wrapped around his waist, in the way your pulse flutters wildly against his lips when he leans down to kiss your throat.
"you feel—" he gasps, and his hips stutter, rhythm faltering. "you feel incredible. i can't—fuck, sweetheart, i can't think."
and nanami can't.
his brain has completely short-circuited, reduced to nothing but static and sensation. every logical thought has been burned away by the heat of you, replaced by something primal and desperate and almost frightening in its intensity. he wants to be gentle. he wants to take his time, to worship you the way you deserve, to show you just how much he loves you with every careful, deliberate movement.
but his body has other plans.
nanami’s hips are moving faster now, snapping against yours with a rhythm that's more urgent than he intended. the headboard knocks against the wall in a steady, rhythmic beat, and nanami knows he should care about that — nanami knows the neighbors will probably hear, nanami knows he'll be embarrassed about it tomorrow — but right now he can't bring himself to give a single shit.
not when you're making those sounds.
soft little gasps and moans that pitch higher every time he bottoms out, your head thrown back against the pillow, your throat bared and vulnerable and so beautiful it makes his chest hurt. your hands are everywhere — tangled in nanami’s hair, scraping down nanami’s back, gripping nanami’s hips like you're trying to fuse yourself to him.
"k-kento," you whimper, and it's broken, shattered, the kind of sound that goes straight to nanami’s dick and makes him see stars. "kento, don't stop. p-please don't stop."
"not stopping," he grits out, and his voice is ragged, wrecked, nothing like the composed, collected man he usually is. "never stopping. not when you feel—fuck, not when you're this—"
nanami loses his words again, and he buries his face in the curve of your neck instead, breathing you in. you smell like sweat and illness and something uniquely, achingly you, and he wants to live in this moment forever. he wants to drown in the heat of you, in the tight grip of your body, in the way you moan his name like it's the only word you remember.
you're clenching around him — tighter now, your orgasm building, and he can feel it in the way your thighs tremble, in the way your nails dig crescents into his back. but more than that, he can feel the fever; the heat that seems to intensify with every thrust, radiating from your core and soaking into his skin, making him sweat, making him need.
"sweetheart," nanami gasps, and his voice breaks on the word, splinters into something raw and desperate. "i'm—i'm not going to last. you're too hot. you're so hot, i can't—"
you turn your head, catch his mouth in a kiss that's all teeth and tongue and clumsy urgency. it's not graceful — nothing about this is graceful — but it's real, it's you, and he groans into your mouth like a man dying of thirst.
"then don't," you whisper against his lips, and your voice is thick with fever and want and something softer, something sweeter. "don't last. i want to feel you. want you to—ah—want you to cum inside me. please, kento. want to feel you."
nanami going to die.
he's actually going to die, right here, inside his wife, and he's going to die happy.
his hips snap forward harder, faster, every single ounce of control he had evaporating like water on hot pavement. he's gripping your thigh with one huge hand, holding you open for him, and the other is fisted in the sheets beside your head, knuckles white. nanami’s whole body is trembling — from the effort, from the pleasure, from the sheer overwhelming muchness of feeling you like this.
"you're everything," nanami hears himself say, and his voice sounds so strange, so distant, like it's coming from someone else. "you're everything to me. fuck, sweetheart, i love you. i love you so much. i love—"
he's rambling now, words spilling out of him unchecked, and he simple can't stop, he doesn't want to stop.
you're so hot, so wet, so perfect, and every time he pushes inside you, he swears he can feel your heartbeat, he can feel the fever thrumming through your veins, he can feel the way your body clings to him like it never wants to let go.
your orgasm hits you without warning — nanami feels it in the way you gasp loudly, in the way your back entirely bows off the bed, in the way your nails rake down his spine hard enough to sting. but mostly nanami feels it in the way you clench around him, a vise of slick, searing heat that pulses and flutters and tries to completely milk him dry.
"oh god," you sob, and there are tears on your cheeks — from the pleasure, from the fever, from the sheer overwhelming intensity of it all. "kento, oh god, oh god—"
nanami watches you fall apart beneath him, and it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
your eyes are squeezed shut, your mouth open in a silent scream, your whole body shuddering through wave after wave of pleasure. and through it all, you're so hot, so impossibly, devastatingly hot, and nanami can feel your orgasm like it's his own, nanami can feel it in the way your walls massage his desperate cock, nanami can feel it in the way his name falls from your lips like a benediction.
he follows right after.
there's no warning, no buildup — just a sudden, violent crest of pleasure that crashes over him and drags him under. he buries himself as deep as he can go, hips flush against yours, and spills inside you with a groan that's almost a sob. the heat of you surrounds him, consumes him, and for one perfect, eternal moment, there's nothing else in the universe.
just you.
just him.
just the two of you, unreservedly tangled together in the sweaty sheets, trembling and gasping and so full of love it might actually kill him.
nanami collapses on top of you — careful, always careful, one arm bracing his weight so he doesn't crush you — and presses his forehead to yours. your skin is still warm, still flushed with fever, but there's a softness in your eyes now, a drowsy contentment that makes his heart stutter in his chest.
"that was—" you start, but your voice is hoarse, faded, and you have to clear your throat before trying again. "that was not how i expected tonight to go."
he laughs, breathless and a little unsteady, and presses a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth.
"you're sick," he says, like it's just now occurring to him. "you have a fever. i shouldn't have—we shouldn't have—"
"kento." you cut him off with a hand on his cheek, turning his face so he has to look at you fully. "i wanted to. i want to. always want to, with you."
he closes his eyes, lets out a shaky breath, and when he opens them again, there's something soft and wondering in his gaze.
"you're going to be the death of me," he murmurs, but it sounds like a declaration of love.
you smile — that bright, brilliant smile that made nanami fall in love with you in the first place — and pull him down for a kiss that's slow and sweet and tastes like forever.
"good," you whisper against his lips. "then you'll die happy."
nanami laughs again, real this time, and gathers you into his arms. you're still too warm, still sick, still in need of soup and water and cool cloths and rest, but right now, in this moment, none of that matters.
right now, you're both exactly where you're supposed to be.
Warnings: making out, dry humping, pet names, breast play, praises, male masturbation
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¡Older Boyfriend Nanami! who somewhat accepted he wasn't going to find a woman to love once he met his thirties. Don't get him wrong, he didn't think his life was over or it was too late— he was only thirty six— but he thought there was no point.
Working as a Jujutsu Sorcerer drains the life from someone, and being an office salesman for some shady company felt equivalent. In the end, Nanami felt hopelessly tired every day and thinking about adding a woman onto that was practically like hitting the last nail into the coffin. It took all he had to drag himself to his local bar to enjoy a whiskey highball before dragging himself home to his Tokyo apartment.
It wasn't until one night, after a horrific work day, did he sit down on the bar stool and meet you. He was quietly winding down with soft jazz music playing in the background while taking periodic sips of his drink when you came sauntering over.
"Hello, do you mind if I sit here?" you asked as you stood by his side. Looking over, he noticed there was at least several more empty seats spaced out you could've chosen.
"Sure," he managed to mumble back before turning his attention back to the drink possessing half melted ice.
"What drink do you have?" clearly, you weren't taking his brisk replies to heart as you kept persisting.
"Whiskey highball."
"Would you recommend it?"
"It's alright I suppose," he said and then realized how rude he must've been coming off, so he quickly followed up: "It's good. I always get them."
You gave a sweet smile that had Nanami instinctively softening for a moment, but then his eyes scan over your face a bit longer. You lacked any true wrinkles that were a sign of age, nor did you have the melancholic lull of voice Nanami had noticed his peers typically carried.
You ordered the drink while Nanami just cleared his throat and looked away. Meanwhile, your eyes went back to him as you contemplated another conversation.
"Hard day, huh?" you casually said while adjusting yourself in your seat to cross your legs.
"Just the usual."
"Uh huh. Well for me," you began since it was clear he wouldn't carry the conversation himself, "I have work piling up. Deadlines all seem to be due at the same time and I'm still trying to catch up."
He nodded his head to that as he remembered the pile of paperwork waiting on his desk for when he arrived tomorrow morning.
"And with finals coming up and all," your sentence drawls out since it seems self explanatory. However, Nanami just stilled for a moment. 'Finals?' As in finals you take in university? God, you were still a student in university? "Just so much happening at once."
He heard your mumbles and watched the bartender place your glass down, but he was still too occupied with estimating your age.
"Do you come to these bars often?"
"What?" he's snapped out of his thoughts.
You giggled, the flirty kind that has him shrinking away on behalf of his moral compass: "I said, do you come to these bars often?"
"Just after work sometimes."
"You don't have a woman to get home to?"
He's clearing his throat after that one as he glanced away. Never in his life had he met a young woman this persistent. Were they like this ten years ago? He couldn't remember.
"No, I don't."
"Oh, that's surprising, but good for me, right?" you replied playfully whilst taking a sip of the drink he recommended.
"Look, sweetheart," he begins in a softer voice because he knew you're young and he didn't want to come off as abrasive, "don't you think, you're—.. I don't know, talking to a man a bit too old?" he carefully asks. Mentally, Nanami was hoping you'd agree and back off.
"I think I'm talking to a man who's just fine— more than fine."
"You're still in university—"
"I'm about to be a senior this year," you interrupt.
Though your words offer no peace of mind as Nanami exhales heavily through his nose: "So you're what? Twenty two?"
"I'm twenty four— took two gap years."
The way you said it subtly annoyed Nanami; acting as if twenty four was any better in this scenario.
"My point still stands. I'm too old to be talking to you," Nanami drinks the last bit of his whiskey before setting the glass down. His mind traces back to all his odd coworkers that were his age or older with a young woman on their arm and how disturbed he felt. He didn't plan on forgetting that weird feeling simply because this twenty something year old was looking at him.
"Fine then. Let's just be friends, or are you too old for that as well?"
¡Older Boyfriend Nanami! who is typically so stoic and composed. He has heard a plethora of people describe him as a 'well reserved' and 'respectable' man, but he felt like he was falling behind on those titles. As of lately, he felt more restless and the only thing he could possibly think that was new to the mix was you.
You two found each other nearly every night at the same bar, but you were easily learning more about one another. Eventually, Nanami noticed how you weren't even ordering drinks anymore as you took your seat and began talking to him.
Suddenly the simple conversations started to feel more like a date when you'd lean forward and laugh at something he said whilst placing a hand on his forearm. Initially he kept brushing you off, but it gradually became harder to do.
It practically became a tradition for you to ask him out at the end of the night when he decided to leave, he'd turn you down, pay whatever bill the two of you accumulated, then left. You tried telling him he didn't need to cover the drink considering you're basically forcing him to converse, but he just said there's better things for a college student to waste money on.
Nanami got use to this little routine, but you were planning ways to get out of the same mundane cycle. You loved talking to Nanami, but he had a strict program so whenever you got into the 'touchy' subjects— seeing each other out of the bar, previous lovers, his type in woman— he swiftly changed the topic.
Eventually, you finally got him to hold the conversation despite veering off into, what he liked to consider, dangerous territory.
"So you really don't have any women at home?"
"You seriously think I'd be here if I did?" he asked back; almost offended while looking over. Yet again, your drink was water while he nursed his usual glass of whiskey.
"Oh no no! I just find it surprising. I'm sure you turn down plenty of women then," you backtracked. Of course you didn't think he was the type of man to cheat; if you did, you wouldn't be talking to him.
"Well I could say the same about you," he quipped, "you should have a boyfriend occupying your time instead of staying in this dingy bar."
"Are you offering?"
"Honey," he started, but then stopped when he realized there was no point. At the same time, you were focused on how your heart fluttered at the pet name. Nanami had a subconscious choice of referring to you casually by name, or saying something like honey or sweetheart. Not only did it make you feel like he was paying closer attention to whatever you were saying, but his deep, smooth voice addressing you so tenderly did wonders.
"What?" you continued when he stopped his sentence.
He was silent for a few seconds as his eyes traced around the rim of his glass before looking over. "I am being serious. There's plenty of nice men at your university to meet, so you should focus on them. I'm really not all that interesting."
The way he said it made your chest compress; he sounded somewhat distant and detached. It sounded like he just wanted you to give up so he can return back to the same melancholy he's mentioned subtly in conversations.
"Why can't I just talk to you?"
"You know why."
"I don't agree with any reasoning you've given. You claim to be boring but I've never been bored talking to you. We're both at a perfectly fine age. I don't want to talk to other guys when I could just talk to you."
He's staring at you for a while as you vehemently defended your chase for him. He catches the way your eyes roll when you reiterate how he always said an old man like him cannot keep up with you. He thinks quietly while mulling over all possibilities and trying to figure out which would be better. He knows what he desires, but he didn't want to jeopardize you in the process of selfishly giving in.
"Alright fine."
"Wait," you perk up quickly, "you want to date me?"
"Well let's start off with one date first before you decide anything."
"We've already been on plenty of dates?" you said while referring to the many nights you two spent on the same bar stools you now sat on.
He pauses, glancing around the bar: sticky wooden tables, floors that creak obnoxiously, dim lights that would begin to hurt his eyes. Finally, he looks back to you: "Sweetheart, I'd never take you to a place like this for a date."
¡Older Boyfriend Nanami! who was never great with his phone, but how a newfound use for it. Previously the two of you hadn't swapped cell numbers because he was adamant on not letting you get too into this whole situation, but after he agreed to giving it a shot it was the first thing you were doing.
"I'm already on my contacts app."
"No, it'd be easier for me to just send you a text and then you save my number," you explained while reaching for his phone and he just let you swipe it from his hands.
"That's not how I've previously done it?"
"Just trust me," and he did.
Once he got your phone number, he got use to the frequent text. It's not like you were spamming him or anything, but Nanami had been so use to only the occasional call from Gojo, which was never good, to be the only notification.
Now he was getting messages from you as you updated him about whatever class you were in or sending him photos of your nails freshly manicured or just how hard it was pouring at your apartment off campus.
You knew he'd seen the message considering he unknowingly had his read receipts on, but it'd always take him at least five minutes to reply. You'd see the text bubble pop up, then disappear, then reappear again at least several times before he'd finally send the message. Typically, it was a thumbs up emoji or short sentences like 'Very cool' or 'That's good.'
¡Older Boyfriend Nanami! who meant it when he said you two wouldn't be attending some random local bar as a date.
When he took you to a first official date, it immediately started with him picking you up and driving you across town. You rambled the entire car ride as he intently listened and whenever you'd get quiet, he'd ask a follow up question.
Once he got to the nice restaurant, he mindlessly hopped out of the car quick and crossed to your side to open the door.
Mentally, you were checking off all the boxes. He followed the sidewalk rule and kept you on the inside. When he got to the entrance, he held open the door for two older women walking out and then allowed you inside. The waiting area was slightly crowded so he kept a cautious hand hovering your lower back while walking to the host stand and saying he had a reservation.
He had you order whatever you liked for the appetizer, your own entree, and of course dessert. Do you even have to mention the obvious fact that when it was time to pay he swiftly pulled out his card without hesitation?
"Are you sure? I'm really fine with splitting," you said since you saw those prices on the menu— not cheap.
"Of course not. I'm the one who took you here. I'd rather you spend the money on something personal," he insisted while sliding the card into the check and setting it at the side for the waitress.
"Fine, I'll just cover our next date."
"Sure," he sarcastically mumbled while sipping on the expensive red wine he ordered.
"I'm being serious! Let me treat you next!"
"Fine. Maybe you can handle the next date," you practically cheered at his words; specifically, that he agreed there'd be another date.
What you didn't expect was for that next 'date' to be sitting in a park and eating ice cream. He somewhat held his word with allowing you to tip the workers, but he payed for the two ice creams.
¡Older Boyfriend Nanami! who, despite his fears, was one of the best men you've ever dated. Sure, it's not like you've been together that long, but he still unknowingly proved himself to you every day.
Whenever you were stressed out about something, he didn't make you feel little or ashamed about it. Though most of all: he didn't make you ever feel like an inconvenience.
"I don't know I just... ugh. I'm underdressed, I can physically feel my makeup weighing me down, and I know eating steak will hurt my stomach right now."
The two of you were sitting in Nanami's car right outside the restaurant he's already driven you to. His hand is on your thigh as he gently slides it up and down reassuringly; just listening to your complaints.
"Would you like to go back home? We can go to my apartment, or I can drop you off at yours if you're done for the night."
"No you already drove me here. I just need to get over it," you mumbled as your hand went to the door handle. He's quicker though and swiftly leans over and captures it before you can get out.
"Sweetheart it's no issue if you want to leave. You can stay with me tonight and we'll order something to my apartment."
"But you've already drove out here."
Nanami just scoffs at that: "That doesn't matter to me. I don't want to eat here if you're going to be upset." At this point he just takes over and grabs the seatbelt and pulls it back over you before clicking it in the clasp.
You stayed silent while watching as he smoothly reverses the car and exits the fancy restaurants parking lot. You finally speak up once he stops at the intersection: "Are you sure you're not upset? I feel childish making us leave."
"You're not childish? You've had a lot on your plate and you'd just rather stay home tonight. I assure you, I'm perfectly fine with this," his thumb pressed comforting circles into your thigh.
"Well... Thank you."
"No reason to thank me," he says while glancing over to you as you sat in the passenger seat. He smiled softly and leaned over; pressing a kiss against your cheek before pulling back when the light changed to green.
¡Older Boyfriend Nanami! who feels like an amateur when it comes to initiating touch or any physical intimacy. The first few months he strictly strayed away from it, but eventually he felt the desire creeping in
Nanami has been with women of course; multiple women like most men in their thirties have. Though, he hasn't been with a single woman since his late twenties and now he's nearing his forties. His sex drive basically became nonexistent as he fell into the same mundane schedule and lost interest in those things. Maybe he'd feel the need once or twice a month, but that was really all he cared for.
Although as he stayed with you longer and 'sleepovers' became more common, it got a lot more difficult to keep himself in check.
You lying beneath his satin sheets and curled into him? Nanami was mentally on another planet focusing on doing paper work just so he wouldn't get hard.
You wore that one sundress that showed the curves of your breast or shorter skirt that allowed him to see the smooth skin of your thighs? Nanami wouldn't stop staring between just your eyes and the scenery around.
He called you around nine a.m expecting you to be awake, but in reality you'd slept in? He'd hear that sweet sleepy slur to your words and would drag a hand over his face while trying to act normal.
Poor Nanami felt like a weirdo whenever he'd stare at the pictures you sent him and suddenly feel blood rush downwards. What he didn't know was how you did half of these things on purpose. Maybe you intentionally were showing a necklace you got with your cleavage on full display hoping he'd say something. Perhaps you taking a photo of yourself at the apartment complexes pool in just your swimming suit was on purpose. However, Nanami wasn't getting the hint.
"Looks beautiful sweetie" he'd reply as if you didn't just send him a photo with 90% tits.
"Make sure you sunscreen up" was all he had to say after you posed yourself for an embarrassingly long time so he could see the full body image?
Meanwhile, what you didn't know was Nanami would close his eyes and imagine your pretty face and whatever photos you sent while he palmed himself through his pants. Eventually, his hand would be wrapping around his girth while pretending it was your soft one sliding up and down his sensitive length.
He'd teasingly trace his finger around the head of his cock like he's seen you do to drink glasses rims. He'd grossly picture how your hands look that one time you two were making dinner at his house and you were washing the vegetables.
His dirty thoughts helped paint a picture that would have him helplessly bucking his hips into his hand while he came with a low groan; falling back into his bed pathetically.
¡Older Boyfriend Nanami! who was genuinely faltering the first time you made a clear move on him. The two of you were reclined on his couch while some movie you wanted to watch played. At some point it was interrupted as your attention shifts and you began to rant to him about something pertaining the movie.
Eventually you got so side tracked to where you were only paying attention to how his blonde hair, with speckled bits of white, was laid perfectly and his tired eyes were focused on you entirely. His arm laid across the head rest of the couch and behind you, so he felt intimately close. You couldn't possibly hold yourself back from kissing the man, so that's how you ended up escalating it until you were slowly grinding on his lap as you two made out.
He tried to be considerate and just gently rested his palms on your hips, but every time you dragged your body down to meet the bulge in his pants, he tensed up.
The kiss was messy as your fingers curled around the nape of his neck and felt his shorter, groomed hair along it. He felt the manicured nails, that he paid for, scrape against his scalp and make him jerk his hips up slightly to meet yours.
One of your hands slide down to his wrist and pull it upwards so his hand is traveling under your shirt and to your soft chest. Instantly, his hand is gently massaging one breast while his pointer finger brushing over your nipple. You just had cotton shorts and a thin pajama shirt on since you were spending the night, so you were dressed comfortably.
You pulled away from the kiss and he could see how your lips were slightly swollen and glossy, then his eyes darted to yours.
"You're gorgeous darling," he whispered as he leaned his head back into the couch, breathing a bit heavily, and his eyes return to scanning up and down your body. The hand that rested on your hip began to just slide up and down your side leisurely. He could see your harden nipples beneath your shirt as his finger smoothed over it; making you flinch with a small gasp.
Your movement only made his dick jump too in his boxers.
"I want more," you mumble as your hand left leading his and instead went to his shoulder before dragging down his chest.
"Yeah? What 'more' do you want?" he teased as he leaned his body up and lifted your shirt up so it bunched around your collarbones. He could properly see your breast, so he stared for a moment while watching them rise and fall with each breath you took.
"Don't tease me old man."
Nanami softly laughed at that as he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss between your tits before peppering a series of them all over.
"I'm not baby— just use your words."
One hand gradually shifted from your waist to instead the small of your back as he pushes you forward: causing you to instinctively arch your back. His other hand remained on your breast as he delicately squeezed it while massaging— his mouth worked on the neglected one.
"Kento," you softly whined while your nails scraped against his scalp and caused him to let out a low groan. He lapped at your skin, as if tasting it, then would give an open mouth kiss.
"Use your words," he repeated a bit more sternly.
"Kento, please, I want you," you whimpered as one of your hands went and grabbed his wrist while pulling it off of your breast. You guided it downwards until you slipped his fingertips under your cotton shorts and he did the rest. His fingers brushing against the wetness that dripped onto your panties as you just looked at him with pouty lips.
"Good girl," he breathlessly said as he leaned in and gave you another kiss as his fingers began to steadily knead at your clit.
¡Older Boyfriend Nanami! who finally felt like his life was worth living after he met you a year ago. You pulled him out of the depressing repetitive cycle he gradually began to accept.
He's not even sure if he could ever explain to you what you've done for him, but he tries to every day.
He does whatever he can to take care of you and support you. Hell he's even offered to help pay any student loans or your apartments rent, but you speedily denied.
"Kento, I've been doing it all on my own for years. I don't need someone coming in and taking over," you explained after he sat you down and said he was interested in trying to help you. It's not that he thought you couldn't manage on your own— he knew better— it's just that he saw the stress it gave you.
He'd have to hear about you applying for another job or cancelling a date because your boss rescheduled you. In his eyes, you were a college student so that was your job. Really, a privileged mindset.
"I know, but I think you might should focus on your school a bit more. I don't mind and it's your last year: you should enjoy it."
"There's hardly been anything enjoyable about university," you muttered. The warm cup of tea he brewed for you sat between your hands. The two of you were seated at his kitchen table enjoying breakfast— not so much now.
"It's cause you should focus on the activities your school offers. You know, I saw a banner in the coffee shop that was for a club you might be interested in," he thoughtfully said. Sometimes he really could annoy you through his persistence, but then again you somewhat put yourself in this situation.
"Maybe I would've had more time if I didn't have to chase a certain man for months."
"You're deflecting, honey."
"I know," you mumbled and glanced away.
After a few moments of silence, he exhaled through his nose and leaned over the table slightly so his hand could gently envelop yours.
"I don't mean to be overbearing. I just... worry. You have your whole life to work, so you should take some time to enjoy things," he tried to explain. "Aren't you hoping to pursue your masters degree after this?"
"I mean, yeah."
"Then you need to really start prioritizing your education. I'm not saying to quit your jobs— you're building great work ethic. I'd just wish you'd enjoy your youth more. I know I wish I did."
His words somewhat pained you. Kento, for some reason, never talked about his past that much. Maybe he'd share a silly story, but for the most part it was a topic you two never broached on. Though whatever it was, you knew it wasn't a good time in his life considering how much he avoided speaking about it.
You sighed, giving up this battle: "Okay, I get what you mean."
"So will you let me help with some bills?" he asked with hopefulness in his voice.
"Mphm.. Not now. We can think about it more in a few months— if your offer still stands."
Nanami nodded and just took your retreat as a sign of victory as he got up from the table and kissed your temple. "Thank you. I will plan on discussing this again. Would you like any more pancakes?" he then asks while already taking your plate and loading a few on that he was letting cool down.
synopsis: on the run and desperate, you claim the one thing that guarantees safety in a quiet western town—a husband. and nanami, offers you a place on his farm despite all your inconsistencies.
pairing: reader x farmer!nanami
content: farmers! ranch life, "fake" marriage, slow burn, domestic tension, soft!nanami, grumpy x useless (affectionate), light angst, humor, forced proximity, eventual competence & smut ofc — wc: 2.4k :: note: for da queen @widowrelic's event - CONGRATSSSSS YOU DESERVE THIS & SM MORE!!!!! — fanart by @//ilameys on patreon
“well?”, you asked, a little too quickly, too hopeful, watching him across the table as he dipped his mashed potatoes back into the gravy like it was the most natural thing in the world, like you weren’t sitting there holding your breath.
“how is it?”
it had to be good. it had to be. not even just for nanami your husband, technically but for you. because if it wasn’t… it would sting, a huge hit to your ego. more than you wanted to admit.
six months.
six months is how long you’ve been “married” to nanami kento and well there shouldn’t even be quotes since it was a real marriage. on paper and in practice. and in every quiet, domestic moment that settles between the two of you.
he provides everything. stability. the farm. the finances. a name that carries weight and a home that never feels empty, even in silence. you don’t want for anything, at least not anything you can name out loud.
and still… six months in, it feels like your hands come up empty.
like you bring nothing of value to the table.
not that nanami ever complained, just chuckling lightly when he saw you scarping the burnt, unsalvageable bits of food you attempted to make for him after a long day settling with making easier things for him.
today, finally, you got it right.
the temperature for the foo, the timing, the seasoning… everything. ribs that didn’t burn at the edges, mashed potatoes smooth enough to not look like a mistake, and gravy that didn’t separate or clump no matter how many times you stirred it.
you stood in the kitchen a little longer than necessary, just staring at it. like if you looked away too fast it might fall apart.
and then the door opened. you straightened instantly, heart jumping as nanami came inside the weight of the day still clinging to him. he exhaled softly, reaching up to remove his cowboy hat, placing it on its usual hook by the door with practiced ease.
you moved quickly before you could overthink it, placing his larger-than-life plate in front of the man and slinking back off, acting as if you with your hands clasped behind your back, was so busy with nothing at all. like you weren’t watching him.
you just wanted to show your admiration for the burly man. you appreciated him more than ever on the run from from the sheriff for your last misdeed. god knows what. you thankfully ran into the humble farmer just outside his ranch, feeling relief instantly from his presence.
you didn’t even think, you just stumbled into him, hands clutching at his shirt as you buried your face into his chest, voice breaking as you cried that someone was after you, that a bad man wouldn’t leave you alone.
and he didn’t push you away. his arms came around you instead surprisingly.
the sheriff’s truck rolled up not long after. dust kicking up behind it, engine rumbling low as he stepped out, eyes sharp as they zeroed in on you curled up against nanami's chest, his hand resting heavy at your waist while you tried to sink deeper into him, away from sukuna's piercing stare.
“this your gal, kento?”
nanami paused for a second looking down at your face now peeking up at him, pleading to lie to the all knowing sheriff who obviously was after you for something.
“…yeah,” he said finally, voice even. “she been helpin’ ‘round the ranch.”
he tilted his head slightly toward the gate behind him, casual. almost believable. “taking her up as my wife soon enough.”
sukuna scoffed eyes dragging over you like he was trying to dissect you. watching your hand curl further into nanami’s plaid shirt obviously not believing him.
“her? a farm hand?” he muttered. “pigs must be flyin’.”
“well,” he said, just as calm, “that’s why she’s my betrothed now.”
sukuna stepped closer, clearly unconvinced, his gaze flicking between the two of you. “you really expect me to belie—”
nanami cut him off, tone sharpening just enough to carry.
“what, you want me to start provin’ it out here?” he said, almost flat. “or you gonna mind your business, sheriff?”
sukuna bounced back to his truck, not without a snarl in your direction obviously signaling he would be back, driving back down the dirt road.
“thank you so much, mister. if i can repay you—”
“let’s make you useful then.” and he actually meant it.
he made you start with some actual farm work, giving you one of his old freshly washed overalls that still swallowed you even though he clipped the sides.
he watched you struggle for ten minutes before huffing around a piece of wheat hanging from his lips, “you could at least act like you’ve used a shovel before.”
you pouted immediately, dropping the heavy metal thing with a loud clang, holding your hands up like they’d betrayed you. faint streaks of dirt smeared across your skin. “this is too rough for my hands!”
so he moved you to the cattle. you fell chasing the sheep, crying out by your third fall trying to round the suckers up in a pen. though it was amusing to watch you breathless and borderline whining as the stubborn little things scattered every time you got close, completely outsmarting you while you ran in circles after them.
so he moved you to milking the cows. he watched your very undelighted grimace as you held an udder like it might bite at you.
he couldn't help the snort that left him when the milk squirted at you, landing in your mouth and the cute yuck! that you squealed as you jumped and flailing around like the cow snapped at you.
nanami swore he saw the poor cow tilt it's head in confusion at you too.
and that's how you ended up here. because you wanted to. you had to.
nanami saved you and you couldn't even make him a nice home cooked dinner after he was in the fields all day?
he looked up at you, his jaw flexing as he chewed setting his fork down. “it’s delicious.” he said finally clasping his hands together.
you basically lit up, eyes shining brightly lips bit together as you nodded in excitement at his approval. “yeah?”
he hummed picking his fork back up to grab more food, using his left hand to slide down his mouth before landing back on you, “you’re not eating with me?”
your eyes widened, mouth falling open in a shocked “o”, in all your excitement you forgot about your own hunger, a had coming up to hold at your stomach. “yes!, one second.”
amusement flickered in nanami’s eyes as he watched you scurry off shaking his head with a smirk pulling at his lips,his silly little wife.
it seemed maybe your finally successful dinner put him in a good mood. his big boots clobbering up the stairs, not before dragging you from your station in the kitchen to the bathroom so he could prepare a bath.
he stripped down, even going as much as fibally slipping into the heat of the water to quirk an eyebrow at you when you still stood fully dressed at the door. his expression screamed, “well?”
and who were you to deny your husband?
stripping down and slowly walking over to where kento lounged his head back, eyes closed, in the steaming tub, his entire body seeming too big for the expanse of space.
he sensed your hesitation his had coming out to grip your wrist as he pulled you into the water, settling you to straddle his lap. and god he was big.
you knew he was big but actually being with his again, on top of him again, you remember how broad his shoulders were, how thick his thighs were that rested underneath you.
absentmindedly, your hands brushed over his body leaving little bubbles of water in it’s wake, the man humming as his fluffy blonde hair lays wet against his dewy skin.
he popped one eye open to observe you perched cutely on his lap, your hair up from the water as you stared at his chest your palms pressing down on his pecs. his thick hands in response massaged the globs of your ass, as you moaned cutely out, hiding your head in his neck from the embarrassment.
“can’t get all shy on me now.” he murmured in your hair, his hand pulling your face out, squishing your cheeks so your lips puckered out.
a smile pulled at his lips as he leaned in and pressed a sweet kiss to your lips, letting you melt against him as he massaged every part of your body he could while your kissed moved down to his neck.
“kento”, you mumbled grabbing the rag, “let me help you.” you dragged the cloth all down his chest, soft suds in your wake all the while, he watched you with low lidded eyes.
you started to scoop water up and let it run past dow his body washing away the suds. giggling as he washed away the light beard you made on his chin.
he pressed his hands back to your ass pulling you back to his mouth. he kissed into your mouth, feeling your wet hands grip at his blonde tresses, sighing into his mouth as your tongue appeared right after exploring him.
you don’t know how long you were there kissing on him as he dragged his fat tip through your folds and pushing in slowly.
“ah—ken!” you moaned out in his mouth, he dragged you down on his length while he sucked on your tongue only letting go when you whimpered from his thick intrusion.
light kisses down your neck and around your jaw landed as his heavy hands grinned you down on his lap. “atta girl.”kento whispered in your ear, “just like that, yeah?”
you moaned out, head tilting back his head dipping to suck at your chest, his hands still massaging you as you reached your peak, clenching around him deliciously as he pulls you up cumming between both your bodies.
“perfect.” he said between kisses on your slumped body, “just perfect.”
and the day after, you hoped you could continue your cooking streak, waking up to cook nanami breakfast. only to see he beat you to the punch.
“pancakes”, you called out as you wrapped your arms around kento, leaning your head on his bare back. “i wanted to cook for you, kento.” your muffled voice rang out as he plopped out the last pancake raising the plate for you to take.
“you need strength, you got a long day today.”
and you really did. taking out one of his old overalls from when he was smaller, less buff using the clips off the fridge to singe the waist of the excess off your body.
you followed him around all day, large boots slouching in the mud underneath you as you carried the basket watching him clip vegetables and pull weeds in front of you.
maybe it was the heat that made you delirious but he looks so hot, sweat slipping down his shirt as he tugged through the fields barking orders at anything insufficient.
and in the minutes he took a small break, maybe a sip of water, he also took you.
bending you between two trailers, unclipping his your overalls to reveal your bare pussy for his eyes and he did not take it for granted. quickly unbuckling his pants and holding his length as he pushed inside you.
he thrusted hard and rough, your cheek smooshed against the metal of the trailer as you tried to reach back to feel anything other than his balls hitting your ass.
he didn’t even stop when a poor field worker came by looking to ask a question just to be met with a dark moan dropping out your mouth as you came, feeing kento’s hot load fill you up.
and he didn't stop there.
in the miniature green house, he held you up against the wall, watching as your boobs bounce with each hard thrust he landed on you.
he even had you on your knees deep in the mud just outside the cow pasture, with his thick length pounding at the back of your throat.
it was more embarrassing how many of his farmhands caught you two, not even just that day but for weeks when you had a break from chores, nanami seemed to never get enough of you, even slipping in while you make dinner just to have his front pressed hard against your back as you mixed the pot on the stove.
soon enough, it didn't come as a surprise that you popped up pregnant, a soft bump taking bloom under your light sundresses, your husbands hand always there supporting you with a soft fondness he never held anywhere else.
even today, leaning on him in the rocking chair on the front porch, his hands under your loose shirt, rubbing on the swell of your growing tummy.
"ken...", you started, sighing as his hands pushed just lightly where you were tense, "remember...when sheriff was here."
he hummed in recognition, his hand starting their circular descent once again.
"and i told you...i ran away from my family", you continued "they tried to marry me off." your hand with your new wedding ring gripped his hand that stilled.
"sent 'im after me." you scoffed, "some old rancher off in god knows where that would've literally tortured me to death in boredom.”
you giggled at the thought sighing as you rested your head back on his shoulder. “what a miserable life i would’ve loved.”
“really?, you think?” he mused fixing his hat on his head. “isn’t your father naobito zenin?”
you froze, tensing up as he warm breath suddenly felt icy against your skin.
“how did you know that ken?”
“ well hon, i was that old man ya old man pushed you off on.” he huffed a laugh before continuing, “but i never meant to deceive you.”
“but you did.” you whimpered starting to push off his body turning and staring back him still rocking. “you’re not who i thought you were, nanami.”
he watched tears start to form at your lash line, your hands holding your belly before rubbing together anxiously in front of you.
“now it’s nanami?”, he laughed, “we love each other.”
“under false pretenses, kento! that’s not love.”
“oh but baby,” he shook his head as he stood to tower over you.
“you never know what grows in the silence of our little town, now do we?”
yorikae
masterlist
tags 🏷️: @yoonsucks @winkii @peachygelic @sxviyna
yes double nanami fics — i’m obsessed w him rn & idk how i feel about this fic hope yall like :/
hiromi is just like your dead husband nanami (っ◞‸◟ c)
it's in ways that make your chest ache.
it’s the way he loosens his tie when he walks through the door—two tugs, then a slow pull, the same exact rhythm your kento used every evening.
you’re standing in the kitchen, stirring something on the stove you already can’t taste, and for a second you forget. you turn, expecting to see that tired, gentle smile, the one that always made you feel like coming home was worth it. but it’s higuruma. his tie is draped over his shoulder now, and he’s looking at you like he knows exactly what just happened in your head.
"long day?" he asks, his voice low and careful. you nod. he doesn’t push it, he just steps behind you and rests his hand on your lower back, the same spot your kento always touched when he wanted you to know he was there without crowding you. your eyes burn. you keep stirring.
"you’re doing it again," he murmurs after a moment.
"doing what?"
"stirring the same spot. you used to tell him it helped you think."
you stop. the wooden spoon hovers above the pot. "i didn’t realize i was doing that."
"i know." his thumb traces a small circle against your spine. "it’s alright."
he reads the newspaper at the table the way your kento did—pages folded neatly, one hand resting on his chin, his brow furrowed in that particular way that made him look older than he was. you watch him from the doorway sometimes, your arms crossed, your heart doing something complicated in your chest.
your kento used to mutter under his breath when he disagreed with an article. higuruma does the same thing. same cadence. same quiet disdain. you wonder if he knows he’s doing it. you wonder if you’re slowly erasing nanami by noticing these things, or if you’re keeping him alive by seeing him in someone else.
"this writer’s an idiot," higuruma mutters, flipping the page.
"what’d he say?"
"that overtime is a sign of dedication."
you smile despite yourself. "how stupid."
when higuruma makes tea, he always pours yours first. he always lets it steep exactly three minutes, the way you once mentioned liking it. your kento had done that too—quietly, without fanfare, like it was the most natural thing in the world to remember how you took your tea.
you sit across from higuruma at the kitchen table, steam rising between you, and you don’t know whether to thank him or cry. so you just sip, and he watches you over the rim of his own cup, his eyes dark and knowing and unbearably kind.
"you’re quiet tonight," he says.
"just thinking."
"about him?"
you hesitate. "sometimes i kiss your mole and forget whose face i’m looking at."
higuruma touches the small dark spot on his left cheek without thinking. "it’s still mine. even when you forget."
even at night, when he touches you, it’s almost too much.
he undresses you the way your kento did—slow and methodical, like he’s got all the time in the world and nowhere else he’d rather be. his fingers work each button, each clasp, with the same careful precision. when your dress pools at your feet, he steps back to look at you, his gaze traveling over your body like he’s memorizing it. your kento used to do that too. like you were something worth studying.
"you’re beautiful," higuruma says, the same words nanami always used. not a compliment. a fact.
"you sound like him."
"i know, baby." he reaches out, tracing your collarbone with one finger. "does it hurt?"
"yes."
"do you want me to stop?"
"no."
higuruma kisses you the same way—deep, unhurried, his hand cradling the back of your head like you might break if he’s not careful. you’re on the bed now, your back against the pillows, and he’s hovering over you, his weight familiar and foreign all at once.
when he pushes inside you, it’s slow and deep, his forehead pressed to yours. you close your eyes. and for a moment—just a moment—you let yourself pretend. the weight of him, the rhythm of his hips, the way he breathes your name against your neck like it’s a prayer.
it could be your kento. it could be. your hands find higuruma’s back, your nails digging in, and you bite your lip to keep from saying the wrong name.
he notices. of course he does. he always does.
"stay with me," he whispers, his voice rough, his thrusts never faltering. "i know where you go. but i need you here. with me." you open your eyes and he’s looking at you, his face inches from yours, his expression open and raw and so painfully understanding it makes you want to sob.
"i’m sorry," you breathe.
he shakes his head, his lips brushing yours. "don’t be. just—stay."
you do. you stay. you let him fuck you gently, his hand finding yours, fingers intertwining above your head. he doesn’t rush, he know how to give you what you need, what you’re willing to take, and when you cum, it’s with his name on your lips—his name, not your kento's, though the ghost of it lingers in the back of your throat like something you can’t quite swallow.
after, he holds you the way he did—your back to his chest, his arm draped over your waist, his breath warm against your neck. you stare at the wall, your eyes dry now, your heart a complicated tangle of grief and guilt and something that might be love, if you let it.
"i’m not him," higuruma says quietly, his voice already thick with sleep. "i know that. but i’m here. and i’m not going anywhere."
you reach up and press your lips to the mole on his cheek, the same one you used to kiss on nanami. it’s warm beneath your mouth. real and present.
"i know," you whisper against his skin. "i’m trying to remember that."
he kisses your temple, his arm tightening around you. "take your time. i’ll still be here when you do."
husband!nanami who carefully threads his fingers through yours the moment a crowd forms, like his body chooses you before his mind even catches up.
husband!nanami who wakes before the sun just to brew your coffee exactly the way you prefer, quietly setting it beside you so it's the first comfort you feel.
husband!nanami who steps through the door, loosens his tie with a sigh, and immediately scans the room for you—his real sense of home.
husband!nanami who notices your favorite snacks running low long before you do, and restocks them without saying a word.
husband!nanami who insists he doesn't want a pet, then ends up carrying the cat around like its royalty
husband!nanami who reads beside you in quiet companionship, believing that sharing silence with you is its own kind of peace.
husband!nanami who leans down every morning to press a soft kiss to your forehead before leaving for work, no matter how rushed he is.
husband!nanami who rests a steady hand on your thigh while driving, a silent reminder that he's right there with you.
husband!nanami who quietly murmurs "text me when you arrive" every time you head out, not out of worry—out of love.
husband!nanami who can read your exhaustion the moment he sees you, even before you speak a single word.
husband!nanami who pulls you into his chest without hesitation on the days everything feels heavy, holding you until your breathing steadies.
husband!nanami who learns your habits so well that he starts doing small tasks for you before you even think to ask.
husband!nanami who may intimidate everyone else, but with you, he is impossibly gentle—soft hands, soft voice, soft heart.
Nanami had you pinned to the bed the second he got home from work, tie still half-loosened around his neck. “I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he murmured against your throat, voice low and rough. His hands were already under your shirt, pushing it up, palms warm and possessive. “My wife. Home. Waiting for me.”
He stripped you methodically — the same careful, deliberate way he did everything — but the second your panties hit the floor his control cracked. He spread your thighs wide, eyes dark behind his glasses as he looked at how wet you already were for him.
“Fuck,” he breathed. “You want it too, don’t you? Want me to put a baby in you.”
You barely had time to answer before he was inside you — thick, deep, filling you in one smooth thrust. Nanami groaned, forehead pressed to yours, hips already rolling in that steady, relentless rhythm he knew drove you insane.
“Gonna breed you tonight,” he said, each word punctuated by a deep thrust. “Over and over until it takes. Until you’re swollen with my child.” His hand slid down, fingers pressing firmly over your lower belly like he was already claiming the space. “Right here. I want everyone to know you’re mine.”
He hooked your legs over his shoulders, folding you open, and fucked you harder. The headboard thumped against the wall. Every thrust was purposeful, bottoming out, grinding against your cervix like he was trying to push his cum straight into your womb.
Nanami’s usual composure was gone. His tie dangled between you, brushing your skin as he leaned down and growled in your ear.
“Tell me you want it. Tell me you want me to breed this pretty cunt full.”
When you moaned the words back, he lost it. His pace turned punishing — sharp, deep strokes that made you see stars. One hand gripped your hip hard enough to bruise while the other rubbed tight circles over your clit.
“Come for me,” he ordered, voice strained. “Milk me dry. I’m not pulling out.”
You came hard, clenching around him, and Nanami followed with a low, broken groan. He buried himself to the hilt and stayed there, pulsing thick and hot inside you. He didn’t pull out. Instead he rocked his hips in slow, shallow thrusts, pushing every drop deeper.
“Stay still,” he panted, still hard. “I’m not done. We’re doing this again. And again. Until I’m sure it took.”
He kissed your stomach softly, almost reverent, even as his cock twitched inside you, already getting ready for round two.
“Gonna keep you full every night, sweetheart. You’re going to be such a beautiful mother.”
tiktok trend with boyfriend sukuna wiping the bottle after he takes a sip. . . his reaction!
you sat your phone against your desk, the charm dangling in front of the camera, obscuring the view for a brief blurry second before sukuna scoffed, a large hand reaching out to flick it out of frame. “damn thing’s in the way.”
as you settled beside him, sukuna shifted into the camera’s frame too—naturally taking up more space than the camera could properly capture—large, broad shoulders, spiky, mussed salmon-hued hair pushed back from his tatted hand running through it way too many times, displaying all his sharp, sinister-looking features that stood out under the bright light in your dorm room.
a long roman nose that almost looked sculpted by the gods rather than born, edged brows pulled into a permanent annoyed expression, peach-colored lips soft despite the permanent grumpiness etched into them.
deep pools of onyx-colored ink seeped into his tanned skin, veins bulging faintly through the markings.
you glance over at your annoyed, pouting hulk of a boyfriend who, despite his rough exterior, is all soft for you.
you smile. “thanks, kuna baby.”
he shrugs, dismissively letting out a rasp-filled grunt. “tch.”
you poke his cheek in return, and he only sighs, but you feel the way he slowly melts into it, subtle and hesitant, like a grumpy stray cat pretending it doesn’t secretly enjoy pets.
“get on with it,” he demands.
you give him a pointed look.
his eye twitches before he grumbles, voice rougher this time, “get on with it, baby.”
“see? was that so hard?” you say sweetly, playing coy.
he rolls his eyes, head falling back against the chair, tongue clicking inside his mouth.
“don’t push it,” he says gruffly.
you squeal, ignoring his warning, clapping your hands together as you pull out the original-flavored ramune soda, the glass bottle clinking beneath your manicured nails while the clear liquid sloshes inside.
having tried every flavor but this one, you were excited—but more than anything, you were practically buzzing from the tips of your fingers to your toes at the trick you were about to play on sukuna.
he doesn’t really keep up with social media or trends—thinks they’re stupid. he only has an instagram because you begged him to get one so he could see your posts, and it’s literally just a black profile picture with the username mygirlfriendmadememakethisbullshit, and a bio that reads:
“fuck off im married.”
you’re not, but sukuna declares every single day that you’re his bride-to-be, ridiculously possessive about it too.
you’re his.
he’ll do anything to make sure you know that.
thankfully, his complete lack of knowledge when it comes to social media means you can play all the stupid, silly pranks on him, and he never sees them coming. and his reactions never fail to amaze you.
sometimes, you swear you can practically see steam billowing from his ears like some cartoon character. he’s embarrassingly easy to rile up.
your lips curl into a mischievous smirk for only a second before you replace it with a silky, saccharine-glossed pout.
“here,” you hum, holding the bottle out. “you try first.”
sukuna’s large hand practically swallows the bottle, fingers covering most of the label before he tips it back and takes a long swig.
immediately, he makes a face—teeth clenched, jaw tightening as he sucks in a breath, grimacing, his expression twisting in disgust.
“tastes like garbage,” he says bluntly, holding the bottle out for you to take back. “too sweet.”
you crinkle your nose. “what? gimme. i’ll be the judge of that. your tastebuds suck.”
he stares at you, his expression completely deadpan.
“clearly they don’t if i’m with you.”
heat pools low in your stomach from his compliment. you smile, pink dusting your cheeks, teasing him back.
“duh. i’m the exception.”
you snatch the bottle from him, bringing the edge of your shirt up to wipe the rim—erasing a part of him, or at least that’s what sukuna thinks as it takes him a second to fully process what you’ve just done.
his mouth tilts into something almost amused, a dangerous sort of smirk, but his crimson eyes narrow to slits, irritation flickering through them as the telltale vein in his forehead pulses.
you bring the bottle to your lips, forming a small “o” around the opening.
sukuna’s red-inked eyes narrow further, tracking every minuscule movement, locked onto you completely like a predator watching its prey—well, without the bloodshed.
“ooo, yummy,” you hum. “tastes like bubblegum.”
he swears you’re going to be the death of him—he’s had enough with your little tricks.
“what the fuck was that, huh?” he snaps. “treatin’ me like i’m some fuckin’ scum?”
you laugh nervously, trying to play it off, but he’s already moving.
rough hands manhandle you effortlessly, yanking the bottle from your grasp before he takes another massive swallow.
one large hand grips your jaw, thumb prodding at your soft lips, forcing your mouth open, holding it wide as he spits the fizzy soda back into your mouth.
he settles against his chair again like nothing happened, watching intently as you swallow it all down.
his hand lightly slaps your cheek, palm heated against your flesh, no real sting—only the phantom lingering touch that makes you feel a little too desperate for more.
“don’t do that stupid shit again,” he says, voice low, sending a shiver down your spine, your heart stuttering with a sudden, aching need for him.
꒰ྀི১ ໒꒱ིྀ masterlist - kofi - emergency comm info!
note: first time writing for sukuna.. how did i do?? this was inspired by a tiktok trend btw
taglist: @seraphsmuse @xoxojisu @esilek @candiiee @cvnt4him @panchikogirlfriend @lotusstarr @cupkiki @3lenaatvt @the-faceless-bride @badslittlemuffin @dreamcastgirl99 @wonubby @dienamiight @sofi4dsam @kawaiiclubdaily @therefore-evermore @luckybibucky @sk1ppy-art @myths-and-ledgends @icanread-icantwrite @changkyunnnie @twoplayergaymers @socialobligation @calliopemanga @izutwos @doubelieveme @ivankinnieclatter @roronoafushiguroaratakahakari @green-orange-bloom @sparklylanddetective @lem-hhn @gaige312 @ryobaby @hrts4cupid @buuxbear @b00rants @v4mp1r3b4tzz @trilxogyyy @loveergirll @searchingfornothinggg @megumisrighttoe @rarebambi @vitya124 @prettisilky take a look at this post to be added, or removed!
olderbf!nanami who never rushes you, no matter how impatient you get. you’re standing in front of your closet, frustrated, pulling out dresses and tossing them onto the bed.
"i have nothing to wear," you groan. he’s sitting in the armchair by the window, his tie already loosened, watching you with that calm, steady gaze.
"we have forty-five minutes," he says, his voice low and even. "take your time."
you huff, turning to face him. "you’re always so patient. it’s annoying."
he smiles, small and fond. "i’ve waited forty years to find you. i can wait forty-five minutes for you to pick a dress."
olderbf!nanami who always makes sure you eat before you leave the house. you’re running late, your heels clicking on the kitchen floor as you grab your purse.
"we’re going to be late," you say, already halfway to the door.
he steps in front of you, a plate in his hand—toast with avocado, a soft-boiled egg, sliced fruit arranged neatly. "eat first."
you stare at him. "nanami, we don’t have time—"
"we have time," he interrupts gently, setting the plate on the counter. "you’re not leaving this house on an empty stomach. sit."
you sit. you always do. because when he looks at you like that—like taking care of you is the most important thing in the world—you can’t say no.
olderbf!nanami who never raises his voice, even when you’re being difficult. you’re arguing about something stupid—where to go for dinner, maybe, or whether you should cancel plans to stay in—and your voice is getting louder, your hands gesturing wildly.
he just stands there, hands in his pockets, watching you. "you’re not even listening!" you snap.
"i am," he says quietly. "i’m listening to every word. and when you’re done, we’ll talk about it calmly. like adults."
you deflate, your anger fizzling out. "you’re too kind to me," you mutter.
he steps forward, his hands finding your waist. "you’re worth the kindness."
olderbf!nanami who takes his time undressing you, like every layer is a gift he’s unwrapping. you’re in his bedroom, the lights dimmed, and you’re already reaching for his belt, impatient, wanting him now.
"slow down," he murmurs, catching your hands. "we have all night."
you pout. "i don’t want to wait."
he leans down, his lips brushing your ear. "i know, baby. i know. but i’m going to make you wait. because the longer i take, the better it’ll feel when i finally touch you." he undresses you slowly, his fingers working each button, each zipper, until you’re standing in front of him in nothing but your underwear. he steps back, his eyes raking over you. "beautiful," he says. "now lay down."
olderbf!nanami who eats you out like it’s a meditation, like he could spend hours between your thighs and never get bored. you’re on your back, your legs over his shoulders, and he’s taking his time, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes.
"n-nanami—please—" you gasp, your hands fisting the sheets. he looks up at you, his mouth glistening.
"patience," he says, his voice calm even as he slides two fingers inside you. "i’m going to make you cum. but i’m going to do it my way." he curls his fingers, finding that spot that makes your vision blur, his tongue circling your clit with agonizing precision.
you’re moaning, your hips rolling, but he holds you down with one hand on your stomach. "stay still," he orders gently. "let me take care of you."
olderbf!nanami who fucks you slow and deep, his hips rolling in a rhythm that has you seeing stars. you’re on your stomach, your face pressed into the pillow, and he’s behind you, his chest pressed to your back, his cock buried so deep you can barely breathe.
"nanami—h-harder!!—" you beg, trying to push back against him. he stills, his hand sliding up your spine to grip the back of your neck.
"no," he says, his voice firm but kind. "you take what i give you." he starts moving again, each thrust deliberate, each roll of his hips dragging against your walls in a way that makes you sob. "you feel that?" he murmurs against your ear. "that’s me. all of me. and you’re going to take every inch, just like this. until you can’t think about anything but how full you are."
olderbf!nanami who makes you ask for what you want, his voice low and commanding. you’re straddling him, his cock inside you, but he’s not moving.
he’s just watching you, his hands on your hips, his thumbs stroking your skin.
"p-please, i.... i can't—" you whimper, trying to roll your hips. he holds you still.
"use your words," he says. "tell me what you want."
"i-i want you to move," you gasp. "i want you to fuck me."
he smiles, small and satisfied. "good girl. now ask nicely."
you bite your lip, your face burning.
"please fuck me, nanami. please."
he rewards you with a slow thrust upward, his cock hitting that spot inside you that makes you moan. "that’s it," he praises. "that's my girl."
olderbf!nanami who holds you after, his arms wrapped around you like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. you’re lying on his chest, your body still trembling, your mind fuzzy with pleasure.
he’s stroking your hair, his lips pressed to the top of your head. "you did so well," he murmurs. "so beautiful. so perfect." you nuzzle closer, your eyes already drifting shut.
"you’re too good to me," you whisper. he kisses your forehead.
"no such thing. you deserve everything. and i’m going to give it to you for as long as you’ll let me."
olderbf!nanami who wakes you up in the morning with his mouth between your legs, because he’s not done taking care of you yet. you’re half-asleep, your body warm and heavy, when you feel his hands on your thighs, spreading you open.
"nanami—" you start, but then his tongue is on you, and you’re gasping, your hands flying to his hair. he looks up at you, his eyes dark.
"good morning," he says, his voice rough with sleep. "lay back. let me love you." and you do. because when nanami wants to be patient, you let him. every single time.
ꫂ᭪݁ random things husband!nanami does that you find attractive
content warnings. dadamin 👅, dilf!nanami (aura wise), modern!au duh, reader is pretty weird but arent we all?, reader is referred to as ( darling, sweetheart, angel ), not proofread we die like satoru gojo, you both have a cat, suggestive
author’s note. thank you all for 300 followers ♥︎ i wouldn’t have done this without any of you or your support
EXHIBITION (A): COOKING @ 8:48AM
it was yet another morning in the nanami household. like clockwork, kento woke up early and fed your cat, jazz. his pyjama pants were resting low on his waist, scratches all over his back from last night’s, er.... shenanigans.
he whipped out a pan from the oven and placed it on the stove top, meaning to make pancakes. just as he was pouring the mixture into the oiled pan, he heard your feet padding down the stairs, “good morning, sweetheart,” he said in that raspy, deep voice of his.
you had to bite back a moan, seriously.
i mean, the sight in front of you first thing in the morning was enough to warrant a moan, an orgasm even. your hot husband standing, cooking for you, broad back flexing, sun shining down at him highlighting his features, making him look like an angel in his grey sweatpants glory, finally wearing something that wasn’t his three-piece suit.
nanami’s voice snapped you out of your daze, “darling, are you alright?”
“pshhtttt, why wouldn’t i be alright?” you threw your hand in front of you awkwardly. nanami hums, “i don’t know, you zoned out there for a moment.”
you scoff in response, “what, so i can’t admire my husband nowadays?”
he chuckles, “i didn’t say that, sweetheart.”
the moment is cut at the feeling of a cat nuzzling against your legs. you bend down to pick up the cat in front of you, “good morning, baby” you say in a high-pitched voice and jazz just meows in response. because, believe it or not, that’s what they do.
then you put jazz down and go love on your husband a little bit.
you hug his side and pepper kisses his cheek before trailing down to his neck, sucking some spots there.
yeah, nanami knows that you’re clingy but not to this point. but he chooses not to question it further and soakes in the love you’re showering him with instead.
EXHIBITION (B): DRIVING @ 1:12PM
since it’s a weekend, you both figured it would be nice to go to the beach.
you pack all the things you need and place them in the trunk. you wore a pair of meduim-rise shorts and a cape top underneath your two-piece set. meanwhile, nanami just wore a tshirt over his swimming trunks.
the sun formed a halo around the both of you, making you look like angels.
the car speakers that were connected to your phone were blasting every summertime by niki, perfectly setting that summer vibe.
on a normal day, you would be singing along (loudly and totally off key) to whatever was playing or taking some scenery pictures with you and nanami’s shared camera that you decided to buy even if you’re mostly the one who uses it.
but today is different and somehow just like any other day.
you always stare at nanami when he drives because he just looks so hot doing the most mundane stuff. although today, he just stood out with how the sun was shining over him.
“you’re staring, sweetheart,” nanami breaks the silence glancing briefly at you then returns his attention back to the road.
“i can’t help it, you just look so... scrumptious” you admit shamelessly.
he fucking chuckles and you think it’s the sexiest sound you’ve ever heard despite hearing it many, many times.
you just keep staring in awe, jaw slack. until he utters:
“i can just pull over, you know.”
he’s mostly teasing you and you know he’s just teasing so the next right thing to do is... tease him back, “don’t tempt me with a good time, mr. nanami.”
he chuckles and you both fall back into comfortable silence.
EXHIBITION (C): PUTTING STUFF TOGETHER @ 5:02PM
you both read so often and own so many books you didn’t realise that it was growing ever so rapidly.
that’s led to now: you were leaning on the wall in front of your husband who was currently sprawled on the ground putting together your second bookshelf.
but that’s not the point.
you were biting your lips so much you could almost feel the metallic taste of blood.
why is that?
well, while your dear darling husband was screwing in the screw, the veins on his forearms were bulging and what a sight it was.
to say you were mesmerised would be an understatement.
you genuinely felt like you were gonna pounce at him in any moment.
he turned to see you blantly staring at his forearms and smirked, “like what you see, darling?”
hearing his voice snapped you out of your daze, “you’re just seeing things, ken.”
kento chuckles and replies: “keep staring, sweetheart,” he glances at you, still smirking.
you felt your face flushes even more at his comment. screw you, nanami kento!!!!
EXHIBITION (D): READING @ 9:20PM
you’re tapping the moisturiser into your face and kento is just taking his supplements.
he settles into bed and you follow after wrapping your hair in the bonnet. he wraps his arm around your waist while picking up the book he was reading earlier that day to do what he loves doing most in his free time (other than enjoying your company): read.
jazz climbs up onto the bed and nuzzling into your lap. “hi, baby!!!! you wanna sleep with mama and papa?” you spoke in that high-pitched voice you always use with cats and kids.
the cat in your lap just purrs contently and nuzzles himself deeper into your lap.
but your attention got redirected to something else.
your attention is now on the man sitting next to you, peacefully reading. you decide that his peace isn’t gonna last long.
“ken, has anyone ever told you how handsome you look while reading?” you ask him while grinning like a fool in love (you are).
“no one except you, darling,” he says calmly.
“mmm, maybe i should tell you more often,” you hum sleepily before laying down, drifting off to dreamland.
he kisses your head and murmurs “goodnight, my love.”
