Jasmine @ravishottamales - Tumblr Blog

harm of will, café tennyo ༻

pairing husband suguru geto x wife afab!reader

synopsis for the first anniversary, suguru invests in his wife's biggest dream -- a coffee shop she can tend to just like their marraige, right in the city. there's just one thing that stops them before they can even start.

tags non-canon no curse au, long established relationship, mostly domestic fluff, slight angst, heavy smut (piv, risky sex, heavy foreplay, fingering, serv dom top, overstim, so much dirty talk), traditional relationship dynamics, early pregnancy/aligning symptoms (mentions of gagging, sickness), "happy ending", nsfw

word count 10.5k

a/n thanks to everyone who voted him in that poll we did awhile ago :) i had so much fun with hubby suguru, but am so glad for this to be done and dusted. i can't wait to hear what you guys think! i disguised this love letter to suguru as a fic! hope u enjoy itttt!! muahh

!! if you're missing them after reading, check out a drabble continuation of this au, here <3

༻ Mid-November

Your stomach is in knots, stealing your breath away every time you open your mouth to speak. With shaking hands and a weak resolve, your husband leads you blindly into an unknown space, in an unfamiliar area. It’s the ultimate act of trust, and though you two have only been married a year, you feel like you’ve known Suguru all your life.

His hands are warm over your eyes, breath steady as he smiles over your shoulder. You can’t see what he’s seeing, but you will soon. The thought alone lights him ablaze, but he wants you tiptoing on the verge. This is your anniversary gift, after all.

“I’m nervous.” You whisper, reaching up to feel his hands over your eyes. “Suguru?” You gasp as he leads you to a step. In your ear, he shushes you softly, then kisses you there.

“Just one moment.” He reassures, giving you that tart, honeyed tone of voice that you’ve loved through every lifetime. You two are still outside, tucked in a quiet side street in Nippori before the streets fill up with curious tourists. Bikes whiz past, teenagers jog home from school, and shop owners share smokes on their doorstep, but this moment feels so personal that you can pretend just you and Suguru exist. The thought makes you smile.

“I will let you go, but you have to keep them shut.”

“Okay.”

He doubles down, “Are they shut?”

“Let me see.” You press, closing your fingers around his hands to weakly push them away. You’re useless – Suguru is so strong it’s almost uncanny. Still, he lets that falter so that you can be the one to rid the blindness.

You open your eyes to a small storefront staring you down in small, glass windows. It’s older – unkept with boards on the windows, or likely just abandoned for ten years. Still, your eyes widen. You step back. “What– where are we?”

You can’t see his smile, but you can feel it burning a hole in the back of your head. He stands patiently with his hands crossed behind his back, bottom lip caught between his teeth. “Happy anniversary. I bought you a storefront so you can open the cafe you've always dreamt of.”

Reality takes a moment to settle, but when it does, you feel faint. Frantically, your eyes search the glass and wood for any rip in reality – maybe this is a dream – but it’s not. Suguru reminds you with a gentle nudge of the shoulder. “I know it is a lot… primarily since we both work so much.” He walks in front of you, fishing a stack of keys from his pocket that could unlock multitudes.

Your husband, just barely twenty-three, is the most capable man you’ve ever met. It sounds like bias as it settles, but there is nothing Suguru has tried that he hasn’t excelled at. He takes his time – he moves with the wind and circumstances, incredibly powerful when he sets his sights on something. It’s why he’s married to you, the girl he set his sights on, who got the same latte from his favorite coffee shop every day.

When it turned out that all your favorite things were his favorite things, it was game over. He didn’t have to try – Suguru never had to fight for you. An easy friendship turned into puppy love. Now that puppy love has turned into soul-encompassing, unbridled devotion and sanctuary. Eleven months of dating was all it took, and when he asked you to marry him, there was no other word in your soul besides yes.

Now, you’re here, caught between the dos and don’ts of your choices, buzzing with electricity as Suguru unlocks the door to your dream come true.

Even his back is sensual and delicate as clipped-up hair escapes and falls down his neck. There’s the love-bite you gave him hidden behind his ear, and the small infinity tattoo that’s hardly visible under his drop collar. You’ve memorized the exact hue of his pearly, warm skin, and sing to it every night as you hold him to sleep.

It almost pains you to see how familiar you’ve become in these years.

The lock clicks like a testament to your nature, and the drag of the old hinges feels like love. You just sit, mystified in the moment as your husband takes the lead.

“It is definitely not much, and it needs lots of work.” He warns before ushering you in. You shrug, taking those few steps to close the space so you can brush over his back with your fingertips. Instincts take over – you want to be closer to him as he leads you inside, so you wrap your arms around his waist, peeking from his left to see the room enveloped in lights.

Suguru laughs a little bit, closing his hand over your joined ones. “Won’t you come out and take a look? It’s all yours, after all.”

“Ours.” You correct gently, stepping out from behind him. You press your hands to your hips, a smile overtaking your features as you look the room up and down.

For a fairly… misleading entryway, the inside is better than you could have imagined. The floors are a cheap linoleum that you hate, but the walls are neutral – dark wood gives the space charm, and there’s enough room for your immediate vision. You’re creating paracosms upon entry.

“I figured you would like to redo the floors, and I agree.” Suguru walks further into the room, pointing out some spots along the edge of the wall that are peeling up. “Water damage where the bar used to be – that’s all rot. Needs to be gutted.”

“Sounds expensive.” You click your teeth, nodding towards the spot he’s pointing out. This space was obviously used for a similar concept, maybe ten years ago – you can tell by the rusty sinks and drains.

Suguru looks at you with a sly expression he can’t hide. “Not if we do it.”

“Rip out floors?”

He nods. “These drains have to go; we need to do new plumbing. Then, we have to consider new floors and installing a brand-new bar – we'll have to tear out all of this completely.” Then, he nods you along down the leftmost hallway. “Bathrooms need to be gutted and redone. These doors…” Suguru points you to two of the three wooden doors in the small hallway. “They have to go… but, look.” Then, he’s telling you somewhere else – towards the door in the back. “There is an entire back-of-house.”

“I’m sorry for asking, but how much did this all cost you?”

“Nothing that I hadn’t planned meticulously for. I don’t want you to worry about money just yet. Until we’re up and running as a business, I will handle all aspects of the operation. Is that okay?” His look is laced with sincerity, as he knows that the way he approaches the topic will directly dictate how you respond.

Yes, he’s been your husband for just a year, but his soul has known you forever.

You smile as you push next to him – eyeing the space. It’s too dark to see much of anything, but Suguru can read your ease. “Yes, that’s completely okay.”

“Good. Thank you.” He draws the door shut when you turn around, nodding to the smile on your face. “Now, I believe I owe you an anniversary dinner.”

“You just bought me a storefront, you don’t owe me anything.” You reassure as he winds his arm over your shoulder. You lean into his touch like you always do, grinning up at him more like an endeared child than a loving wife.

He glances down at you and smiles too, walking you through the front of the store like he plans on doing every late autumn until the end of time. “Well, I’m doing this for us. I think it’s a good financial investment, but it’s an even better investment in our marriage.”

“Owning a business forces communication and understanding.” You nod. Suguru holds open the front door for you to step out of, but he’s not far behind.

He turns his back to you again, locking the door with a faint click. “Exactly. It also forces closeness. Once we start working together full-time, you won’t be able to get a break.”

“You’re scary.”

“I’m excited.” He counters, eyebrow cocked as he holds his hand out for you to take. “Expensive, uncomfortable anniversary dinner or no?”

“When you put it like that–

Suguru winds you back in before you can lay it on him too thick. “I want what you want, my love.”

“Well, I want what you want, and it doesn’t seem like dinner is the best option.” You reason with him, eyes doe-like, yet stern as he pulls you to a loose embrace. “Let’s think quickly before it gets too busy anywhere.”

On cue, Suguru nods. He crosses his hands over your waist, fingers playing at your waistband. “Well, you spent such a long time cleaning our apartment today. It looks and smells so divine – what a waste not to spend our time there?”

“Reveling in all my hard work?” You muse, brushing your nose against his – sharing a soft breath between you.

“Mm… Mhm…” He nods, then kisses you on the lips. It’s soft and delicate like only he can encompass.

Behind him, when he pulls away, you blink open to see the sun blaring, setting shadows on his back. You smile once more and press your forehead to his shoulder. “One year with you, and you still treat me as sweet as you always have.”

A group of students walk past, wrapped in their uniforms. Two or three girls – a few boys - they chatter amongst themselves, cradling cigarettes and chewing on candy. It’s an intimate enough alleyway for you and Suguru to be a point of interest. As nervous as you always seem to feel around schoolkids, you don’t feel their eyes when Suguru is wrapped around you. In fact, you blink up as their judgmental eyes pass and feel nothing.

This weightlessness is addicting – you feel invincible.

Making fists in the back of Suguru’s baggy sweater, you smile into the fabric, teeth sawing at your bottom lip.

“Look at you… trying anything to get inside my shirt. You are so sweet, I have no choice but to love you.”

Marriage is bliss. There’s no doubt about it.

For as long as you can remember, there’s been no other man but yours. The second you understood friendship from a crush, you already knew Suguru, and he was already both.

You two met in your final year of High School when your family up and moved to Tokyo. It was all so sudden – you were scared and shy, but most of all, you were lonely. You could have spent a lifetime in the isolation you grew so accustomed to before your lively friend group drove you out of it.

When you started blossoming, sneaking out to parties and making plans without them, Suguru withdrew, and as soon as you all graduated, he left without a word. He doesn’t speak that much about that time in his life – he traveled overseas, touching ground in America, living in London for a Winter before hiding somewhere down in Okinawa for a year.

He called it ‘studying abroad’ and sent you friendly little messages on social media to keep in touch. It wasn’t enough, and you caught yourself letting the spark sizzle out on purpose. You hate long distance, and you hate flimsy communication even more, so you didn’t let him have you at all.

Until you saw him again in Shinjuku – blending in with the night, smirking as if he never left.

That night, pressed against an apartment building alley, he kissed your neck and whispered, “I’m back… for good.”

From then on, your life was made. Suguru finished school and graduated with a degree in business – you in marketing. For eleven months, you two came and went between each other's apartments, spending as much time together as humanly possible. It was hard to be away and hard to be together with the constant studying and all-nighters.

Then, you graduated together again, and life began to fall right into your lap.

You and Suguru got jobs fairly easily and signed a lease for the first apartment you toured together. It’s cozy, tucked away unassumingly behind a row of local businesses. You can step out of your front door and buy fresh fish – that, alone, convinced Suguru into the lease.

The wedding was simple – the first year was turbulent, and beautiful. Your life is on an uphill climb, and it shows no signs of slowing.

...༻

You smile as you tug a loose-fitting shirt over your head, staring at yourself in the closet mirror. Suguru handles the food in the kitchen—seasoning and dredging the katsu you plan to pan-fry as soon as you change.

Living together, you and Suguru have found the perfect balance of give and take – he handles the raw meat because you can’t stand its texture. Then, you will cook the meat whilst he cleans up behind himself. It’s a holy kitchen ritual always backed by a soft, vintage album.

It’s precisely what you’re about to walk into – focusing most of your weight on your toes so your footfalls sound soft and graceful. You’re wearing nothing but a regular t-shirt and a pair of unassuming, cotton-blend panties. Suguru can see the black peek out from the hem of your shirt when you walk into the room.

He’s already standing at the sink – four prepared pieces of chicken katsu laid perfectly on a cutting board next to the sink. His work is always so neat and precise, it’s all in the time he takes – in the patience he harnesses. You wish you had stood and watched him prepare this.

For now, you’ll just smile. “Looks good.”

Suguru reaches for his phone, turning down the acoustic song on the speaker a few pegs so he can hear you above all. “Hello, beautiful. I was just about to call for you. Would you like me to wash and prepare any vegetables?”

“Hm…” You hum, squeezing behind him in the small kitchen. Resting your hand on his back, you turn to the fridge, assessing the collection of produce you have in the bin. “Lotus root? Cucumber? Cabbage?”

“Cucumber salad? Perhaps shaved cabbage?”

“And rice, mhm…” You nod, letting the door swing shut. Caught in the moment, you walk into Suguru’s back, kissing his shoulder blade.

“As endearing as I find it, I don’t think frying in your underwear is very wise.”

“Would you rather I put pants on?”

“No.”

You laugh into the fabric, trailing your bare foot up his ankle. The soft fabric on his sweats clips against your toe – snapping the cuff back against his skin. Suguru sucks in a deep breath. “Please fry our katsu, it is hard to focus.”

“The spoon can wait.”

“The spoon cannot wait. If I put the spoon down, I will effectively forget about washing and cooking.” He turns the faucet off, spinning around in your lax grip. Eye to eye again, you bite your bottom lip, and his wet hand reaches forward to cradle your chin. “You will forget about your chicken, and we will be so indisposed that you will start to go faint during the night… No, I will not let you scare me like that again. We are preparing dinner.”

Your lip-bite fades into a soft eye roll, and when he pulls his hand away, you reach to wipe the wetness away with a smile. “I recall fainting for different reasons.”

“I just recall you fainting.” Suguru lets the spoon rest on the side of the sink, staring back toward you sternly. “Yeah, it’s funny… I am annoyed with how attractive my wife is.”

“So trivial.” You lean forward to kiss the corner of his lips, lingering for a moment before saying, “You know I only faint when my husband makes me orgasm too hard.”

Suguru gasps. You turn around to the stove, smiling down at the deep pan he placed there for you. “You are very distracting; I may slice myself on a knife in here.”

You reach high in your cabinet for your oil, bumping Suguru as you rise to your toes. He feels you and turns around quickly. “Oil? Sorry, I should have grabbed it.”

“Yes. Thank you.” Suguru passes it to you, smiling down as it lands. Your heart races at the slightest hints of intimacy. “Thank you.”

He turns back to the dishes – you turn back to your pan. The oil top cracks, then pours slowly into the ceramic. Staring back at your viscous reflection, you blink, then turn around to hand the empty plastic to Suguru. “Rinse, please.”

“Of course.” He responds, taking the top and the bottle from your hands. “I won’t lie, I expected you to be unimpressed with the cafe.”

“Why?” You hum, clipping your temperature gauge on the side of your pot. The faucet flips off, and behind you, Suguru turns around, leaning against the sink. “You know how much I’ve spoken about opening a business.” As you speak, you move to the fridge, glancing as he leans against the sink. You pick out the cabbage and cucumber he requested, holding that out towards him to wash. “It’s only natural we go down this path anyway. I mean – we’ve both been in the industry and have degrees.”

“You don’t worry about the stress of operating something so fragile over a marriage so new?”

“We will cross that bridge when we get there… let’s just make sure that place passes an inspection first.”

“Oh, you mean business.” He laughs, turning back to the sink to wash the vegetables. Your giggles fall off when you turn to the stove, sighing as you watch the oil temperature slowly climb. Suguru fusses next to you, hand on your back, as he reaches into the cupboard for a bowl.

“You worry about us a lot.”

“I worry about everything at all times.” He replies, eyebrows raised. You nod because you know that – Suguru is always close by, as the warning bells in your mind. “I worry about you standing so close to this stove with absolutely nothing on your legs.”

Looking at him over your shoulder as he rises to full height, you whisper as gently as possible, “Bring me some pants then, baby.”

“I trust you not to burn yourself.” Suguru kisses your cheek – always doing more kissing than cooking when he’s so close to you in the kitchen. “So, don’t burn yourself.”

“Mhm…” You shiver as he presses into your back, watching you lower a piece of breaded chicken into the oil. “You’re so distracting, I might slip and splash oil everywhere.”

“Look at you.” He whispers as a flurry of bubbles surrounds the meat in the pan. “So gentle…”

...༻

Suguru sits up when you walk into the room, holding three plates in your grip. You’re carrying chopsticks between your teeth, wafting the smell of irresistibility into the room. He’s staring up at you with his long legs kicked out, back against the front of the couch.

You raise your eyebrows as he smiles up at you, handing him the plate of rice and cucumber so you can lower to your knees. You cross your legs quickly—traditionally —and then pull the chopsticks from your teeth. “I’m so hungry,” you complain softly before whispering thanks for your meal.

Suguru always waits for you to start eating before he does, but he sits and watches you take two bites of your katsu before speaking. “Dear, you only brought one pair of chopsticks.”

“Oh, no!” You hover the back of your hand over your mouth, covering your chewing. It’s instinctual to just hand him over your pair, already rising to your knees to get a new pair for yourself. “I’m sorry, I will go grab another pair!”

Suguru wants to stop you, but he doesn’t. He watches you scramble up in a fluster to please him, and it makes him crack a soft smile. Plus, he gets the indirect kiss from your used pair. He’ll make sure to mention it just to fluster you even more.

The first bite of the spread that Suguru chooses is the fresh, chili-d cucumber salad he always requests you make. It’s easy to get fresh produce from one of the stands in front of the apartment, and you two always have fresh spices and sauces on hand, so it’s fairly easy to please his palate. He hums over a bite, fishing for his phone over the couch to resume the song he paused for you.

This time, you saunter back into the room on your toes with chopsticks in one hand and a fresh bottle of sake in the other. Suguru sits up. “Where were you hiding that?”

“The freezer,” you reveal, slipping back on your knees. Eager to finally start eating, you situate your chopsticks against the side of the plate, and begin again on your katsu. “I figured I’d just save it for our one-year. We don’t drink often, so it will be a treat.”

For a few moments, you two sit in silence, enjoying the work you put into this meal together. Times like these feel the most real for you – the easy things like cleaning or sharing a meal. It all seems so small when you’re doing it, but it builds the best part of your relationship. The familiarity.

The music does a good job at filling the silence, too. It swirls and bends around you two, forcing a small shake in your hips as you take a bite of rice. Suguru’s eyes flick to you every few seconds, bumping your chopsticks with his own in the bowl. When you giggle, he looks up and says to you, “Temptress.”

“You’re so silly, baby.”

“Stop talking to me like that.” He’s breathless now, clinging to the softness of your voice against the stark, jazzy instrumental in the air. “You have made such a delicious meal; we have to savor it.”

“I’m sorry.”

Suguru lets you have the last bite of cucumbers, and as you place it between your teeth, he stands up and gathers the empty plates. There’s a tension in the back of his neck when he stands – you can see it, you wonder if he can feel it.

When he’s in the kitchen, you have your hands around the bottle of sake, and you call, “Please bring two cups!”

“Yep!” He responds, placing each plate gently into the sink. Suguru just runs water over them for now, knowing he will likely have to wake up before you and clean. It is the least he can do.

Then, he walks back into the room with two delicate glasses between his fingers. They dangle at his side, clinking together softly when he walks behind you. You’re humming along to the words of your favorite album Suguru chose to play. He knows what he’s doing – you know what you’re doing. The fun of this waiting game is that you get to enjoy it.

You’re enjoying the sway of the music, and Suguru enjoys the sway of your hips.

Pretty soon, he’ll enjoy the warmth of your flushed touch on his cool skin.

He gulps, rolling his lips back as he watches you sit up and clap softly at his presence. “A-are you feeling quite full?”

“Yes…” You drag it out, smiling towards him with open palms. Suguru laughs once, then places them in your hands. “You don’t have to be so worried about me, you know.”

“Sure,” he starts, opting to sit on the couch instead of the floor with you. Though he’s not eye-to-eye, he presses in as close as he can. “I am in love with you. That phrase alone makes me worry.”

You squint at him with a sparkle in your eye, twist the top of the sake off, and fill the two glasses halfway. “Are you worried that I will outlast you?”

“Well, now I am.”

You laugh as you hand him the glass with the heavier pour. You shift onto your knees, holding your glass by the base and the side. Suguru watches with a smile in his eye as you nod in a soft bow, aiming your glass lower than his, “Kanpai!”

“Kanpai,” He responds, eyes locked as you drink down half of your pour. He’s always been mystified at your politeness – how you treat him like a higher-up by default, but still carry that intimate know-how to always keep things even. He just loves you so much – he loves looking at you. He doesn’t even take a drink; he just watches as you move your hips in time with the music, eyes sparkling like a kid when you see him staring.

“Don’t make me drink alone, handsome.”

Suguru clears his throat, shifting his position. He’s trying very hard to be as polite as you’re being right now, knowing how pent up he’s felt all day. One touch from you, and he might just make a mess in his sweats. With a shrug, he tilts his head back and drinks it down in a single shot.

As the climax to this jazzy J-Pop song reaches, so does the mood. It dips into something you can’t feel right away, but when you open your mouth to speak, the air is still. “So, when did you even decide to get that storefront? I know that wasn’t a sudden idea.”

“Well, the monthly rent isn’t too bad for the area.” He starts, taking the bottle in front of you to pour himself another drink. “And wasn’t this the plan all along? Whether it be a bookstore, grocery stand, or cafe – we’ve always talked about it.”

“Dreamt about it,” You correct with an easy eye-roll. “All we did in school was dream.”

“School was awful,”

“Awful.” You agree, and you two break out in a small fit of laughter. You hate reminiscing on the struggle you two endured – convenience store meals once a day and cheap, shitty ramen in cramped booths because you didn’t have a kitchen and couldn’t afford groceries even if you did. Luckily, Suguru had an easier time with Uni, but he struggled too. It was not a graceful few years, but it's what made you fall for him.

Over his glass, Suguru hums before taking a sip. “Oh, yes – we are masters at dissociating.” He pauses for a moment, memorizing the taste of the stark liquor on his tongue. Suguru nods you up, “Won’t you come up here instead of waiting at my feet?”

“I’m just surprised I didn’t see any money leave our accounts these last weeks.” You lean down, kissing his baggy, clothed knee. He doesn’t have to tell you twice that he wants you near – you’re standing up in languid precision, using his spread knees as leverage. You collapse down next to him with a gentle hum.

Like clockwork – pieces falling into place, Suguru puts his cup down and envelops his body around yours, pulling your tucked frame into his safe chest. This is all he wanted; he just wanted your skin near. Speaking in a hush, gentle voice, he adds, “I didn’t use our money; it’s not something we talked about, and I wanted to surprise you.”

You nod along as he traces gentle fingers across your thigh. “You are everything to me. Everything.”

“Shh,” he coaxes, slipping a big, gentle hand under your loose t-shirt where he just touches you. There’s nothing there that you could grasp besides the territorial nature in everything he does. He gets close, lips circling the warm shell of your ear. When he touches you like this, so gently, it feels like he’s doing it for the first time all over again.

It feels so good because you two haven’t been intimate like this in well over a week. Work takes it out of you – Suguru is at the gym late, then asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. It’s the sad reality of your work days, but holding out for long isn’t inherently bad. It just means you can let that passion marinate. You can build excitement and hold each other close, never sharing more than a kiss or a touch, then go all night and expend all the energy you’ve gathered.

You lean into him, eyelids fluttering like winded flower petals. “We can go back tomorrow? A-and take a closer look, right?”

“It’s ours.” Suguru distracts himself by kissing your heated skin. “What do you wanna take a closer look at, hm?”

You’re instantly reduced to mush – it’s like your brain folds in on itself in holy admiration. “T-the floors. Mm– the floors.”

“The floors?” He kisses you again, trailing closer to your neck. Suguru tucks some hair out of the way and licks a gentle stripe to your jaw. Under him, you shiver, fingers turning to fists in his loose pants. He chuckles in your ear, kissing you twice, then nuzzling into the crook of your shoulder. “We should look into simple tiling for the front instead of the laminate.”

“I don’t know how I feel about…” You swallow, eyes squeezed shut as his hot hand under your shirt trails up to your chest. “A-about tile in the front, it seems easy to slip.”

“Perhaps a chic, dark wood, then.”

You nod, breathless and tied up as his fingers slip against your loose chest, thumb just barely kissing over your right nipple. He cups you safe and warm, nodding to whatever you’re about to say before you can mutter it. “Perhaps. I like the idea with keeping the space traditional, and adding small, modern elements in the form of steels and fixtures.”

“Yes, you know how much I like the traditional architecture. I wanted that location so bad.” Suguru continues, kisses resuming against the corner of your lips. You part them for him, breathing out pronounced little tufts of air into the heated atmosphere. “Most of all, I want you to recognize how much faith I have in you to build the business completely in your vision. All of the logistics and numbers is what excites me. You excite me – I want to do this for you.”

You’re steadily nodding him through his words, heart ablaze and pumping blood to corners of your body that Suguru’s passion only seems to reach. Your toes twitch against his soft, strong legs, fingers gripping him so close they’re starting to strain and numb. Sometime in this quiet moment, the music rolls to a stop, but neither of you comment on it. Suguru’s hand massages your breasts like it’s his favorite pastime, nuzzling your skin – pressing invisible kisses on your neck that you can’t even feel anymore.

Suguru kisses you crazy and numb. He grabs your jaw, turning your head when you cower away, and commands your stark, bitten lips to his whims. His tongue peeks from his mouth, winding circles into the flesh of your lip. A slight tilt in his head deepens the interaction, and you’re left grasping for mercy or a breath with your fingers dug in his heavy muscle.

You two don’t need to say anything, but you want to. In this air, all boundaries are stripped and it’s comfortable to let yourself fall into him. Codependency or not, he’s the only man who has ever touched you like this, and you know you want him to be the last. There’s an untamed fire brewing in your loins everytime he just glances at you, that has been there since you were a teenager. It’s a spark that has never faded and shows no signs of slowing. Even him so steady at your side, completely silent as he kneads your chest in his palm is so soft and sensual, that you think you may just perish.

When his hands drops lower, they nuzzle at the base of your stomach, long fingertips pressing to where he wants you the most. “You are so sensitive, I can feel you shivering.”

“I want you so bad.” You reply, chasing his touch as it rides lower. Hips lifting from the couch, Suguru nods and leans in to mark your neck again.

It starts again, that slow grueling drag of fingers and lips that send prickles down your spine and floods between your thighs – Suguru knows this. It’s why he presses you like a happy button, knowing you’re just a breath away from seeing white. He can’t help the smile that crosses his lips when his fingers finally dip into your waistband, marveling at the insane heat festering in the center of your core. Suguru is almost sorry for getting you so hot, but this need he feels between your legs didn’t translate nearly as harshly on your face.

He whispers, “Forgive me, I didn’t know you were so frustrated.”

“Every time you kiss me… or tell me I’m beautiful, I get this way. I can’t even try to hide it.”

“But, you do.” Suguru pauses, joining two long fingers together to slide through the welcoming heat of your core. He presses against your clit, twirling it against the pads of his fingers, and you’re finally undone, panting and needy against his big body.

You want to speak, but so does your body. Suguru has a point you can piggy-back off and defend to the ends of the Earth, but he’s nudging at your cunt like he knows what drives you crazy. Your whines reach peaks when he teases the dip of your entrance with the tips of his fingers, distracting you with yet another tongue-kiss.

He’s so embedded in your mouth, right now. His taste is a sweet, sticky film blocking any sense or stray from seeping through, and it’s maddening. You can’t pull away, you can’t push into him closer, and you can’t swallow down his taste as he lights your body up one touch at a time.

You’re moaning obscenely against him, hips shaking as they rise from the cushion to get closer to Suguru’s long fingers. He’s nodding like you’re spilling the gospel in his lap, understanding that you’re too wound up to tell him anything else. He speaks for you. “Sweet girl…”

Your thighs shiver and clench, unable to say or do anything as you bare your teeth, hand flying down to cement his touch into your weeping cunt when he tries to slide away. “N-no.”

“Baby, won’t you let me be inside of you? In our bed? Doesn’t that sound so beautiful and comforting?”

You whine and writhe like he’s punishing you to a lonely death, but Suguru understands. He can feel it everytime his hands slides against your labia, massaging the stickiness into your soft thighs. Perhaps it’s the excitement of the shared first experience with anniversary sex, or the fact that your body is so locked on him that it’s changing your nature. Suguru’s never been able to hear how wet you are as his fingers play against you.

Then, he wonders if he wasn’t observant enough and already missed your orgasm, but deep down Suguru knows… Perhaps it’s the excitement of the cafe, or perhaps it’s just him.

You lie in that last point like it’s your lovebed, nodding nothingness towards him that Suguru picks up completely. So gently, hardly moving a muscle, Suguru stands up with you still pressed into his chest, bearing most of the heavy lifting to get you to the back room.

You’ve never felt lighter with living in such a small space until now. Suguru places you into bed within the minute, knee pressing to the mattress as he crawls over your shivering frame. With some of the strength you can muster, you reach your arms high above your head, giving your husband the perfect view of your soft tummy – your trembling, soaked thighs spelling out his name in sacred design.

Suguru watches you for a moment, sitting up to take in your reflection. He draws a smile, “This body… It makes me want to give you everything.”

“You already have.” You manage to breathe out, lungs expanding over fat breaths, keeping your head steady enough to nod along to him. Standing over you, Suguru gathers his loose hair at the nape and pushes it over his shoulders. His thick arms flex as he reaches to pull his shirt off, holding his breath until his flush face is free. The only light in the bedroom is the remnants from the hallway, glowing dull against against the wooden floors that just suck it all up with none to spare. Still, you two are so close, that you can see every small dip in his muscles and demeanor. You bite your lip as his shirtless body comes into view, and your thighs part instinctively.

Brushing his finger across his bottom lip, Suguru chuckles at the invitation, reaching down to pull your knees apart.

“P-please,” You whisper into the air, so overcome and pliable to his direction that you would feel shame if he wasn’t so wholly yours. Every single time you lay with him, you challenge yourself to bare a little more of your body and soul. Suguru’s so patient – gentle to the highest degree, and understanding. Since there’s been nobody before him, not even yourself, you two have formed your own way of love. It’s just like a secret, made-up language.

“You’re asking me so nicely, my beautiful wife.” He croons, lips pursing in focus as his eyes eat your body alive. Already, you’re marked with Suguru’s kisses – smelling like him, too, when he tugs his pants down, sucking in breath when the cool air hits the straining erection he’s had since he saw you walk in the kitchen. It’s like he has to swallow down excitement every time he sees you now, but this time feels different. Suguru’s so wound up and touch-starved that his pelvis trembles with exposure, hissing like he’s in pain when he reaches down to close his hand across the base of his cock.

You watch him with stars in your eyes, mouth bone-dry. “Give it to me.” You try once more, already fucked out, and he’s barely started. Suguru knows the love in the foreplay means the most to you, so that’s where he usually focuses – he’s spent a lifetime reading you too, it seems.

So, he’s more than ready when it’s time to take you. You’re dripping, staining your underwear and leaking into the sheets when he peels them off. Suguru sucks his cheeks in, mystified by the sight of your slick shimmering in the dull light, sticking to your underwear like your arousal wanted them near. He tries so hard not to be too lewd, but it’s impossible right now. Suguru has literally never, ever seen you so soaked.

“Your body is… Baby, you’re soaked.”

“So sensitive.” You reply, whining and biting at the words like you don’t want to be speaking at all. You can’t look away from his big hand, mystified and dumbly taken by the size – his shape so personal and sexy to you that you’ll conserve the image long after you’ve closed your eyes. “Want you inside, it hurts–

“Shh, no.” He reassures, leaning down to kiss away the stress from your furrowed brows. Folded over you so sensually, sweats pulled to the top of his thighs, Suguru finally – finally presses inside of you. A noise you didn’t know you were capable of producing breaks from your throat in a needy cry. “There you are. See? I fit so perfectly.”

“S-stop.” You whine, fists lifting from the sheets and crossing over his shoulders in a silent plea to keep him pressed to you. “Talking like that –mmgh!”

Throughout this whole ordeal, Suguru hasn’t even broken a sweat. You’re in tatters – blowing in the wind and so pathetically close just from feeling so full of him. So, he speaks for you, lips pressed to the base of your ear, “Breathe… there, you go.”

Overwhelmed by the static in his voice, you give him a shaky, weak nod. Breath comes like knives – heaving and hot as his hips grind into you.

“I knew you could do it.” He purrs, kissing and sucking at your earlobe. When he sits up, it’s hardly no distance lost – you won’t let him pull away with your nails dug in his shoulders. Still through the space, he reaches a hand between your bodies, between your thighs, playing with your addictive, sopping pussy just because he can’t help himself.

Suguru fucks into you the first time, rubbing your clit in time as he pulls out to the hilt. He can see the way your face morphs in inescapable pleasure, then reminds you, “Breathe,” Before thrusting right back into the hilt.

“Look at me.” He demands this time, chasing your eyes as you toss your head out of his immediate view. His eyes are so shiny and dark in this light, and they’re eating you alive. You swear Suguru hasn’t blinked in the minute, but you’re so wrecked, you’re likely seeing things.

“Oh, pl–

Suguru nods before he knows what you’re saying, building a hot, steady rhythm in his hips as he fucks you right. You’re completely lost to the world at this point – fingertips digging into his back just to feel some semblance of reality as he fucks it all away.

The soft, wet sound of skin on skin – Suguru’s fingers touching you everywhere, holding you open so he can peek between you two and see the way his cock dissapears inside of you like pieces of a puzzle connecting at the seams.

Your heart is racing waves of white-hot pleasure through your veins as Suguru loves you down so completely, that you can’t find your mind. You can’t put any thoughts to words right now, all you can do is cry and moan his name.

That’s all Suguru needs, and he’s been edging himself so long that his usually composed face is bright red, even in the darkness. Still, he holds back, lips parted and panting. He waits for you.

But, what you need, is for him to pull it out of you. His voice – so steady and calm even when he’s so wrecked, is your saving grace. You’ve been holding back just as long as he has, only a rubber band snap away from ending it all, right now.

You think he knows that, so he pulls his mind to the surface, and grunts into your jawline. “Give it to me, beautiful. You’re squeezing me so tight, I can feel it.”

“Mm,” you’re not disagreeing, but you don’t want him to slow or stop. You need him to give everything to you until you two are empty love-husks, still glued to each other. “L-loo-k, look at m-me. Baby,” You whine, stretching out the last syllable until Suguru blinks up at you.

He sees it in your eyes immediately, straining against your weak hold on his back until your arms go limp, and he can see you fall apart on his cock. Suguru sits up, running a hand down the front of his pelvis – guiding his languid thrusts with two fingers pressed to the base.

Then, his dark eyes fall from your interconnected bodies, dragging all the way to your ruffled shirt and wrecked face. It’s when he blinks up at you, do the flood gates open.

You cum the hardest you ever have before, unable to do anything but bite down on your wrist and writhe softly as he fucks you through it. The pleasure is numbing your bones, clamping down on Suguru’s length and drawing your knees in around him. Suguru stares at you like he’s unashamed, fighting off cheeky smiles and the look of awe as your face screws up.

Once you go limp, blinking off into the dark room, Suguru starts again. “You’re so beautiful.” He reminds easily, holding both your knees up so he can nail that last few pushes out of you. You look so numb, but Suguru’s so close, and he wants to feel just as taken as you.

“Sug–

You feel it flood through you like bliss – sticky and thick as Suguru marks your shivering walls in pearlescent shades of him. He’s ashamed to admit to this being one of the best feelings in the world – filling you so full of his seed that you’d be leaking with it all night.

In the back of his mind, as he pulls out weakly, Suguru wonders if it’d happen this time. The unknown – the unsaid.

Silently, as he wraps his big body around yours again, you wonder the same thing – could this time be it?

༻ Early December

You wake up alone again. You can feel is as soon as consciousness stirs you out of your daze. The sun is so goddamn blinding – seeping through the pulled curtains already. In the dead of winter, the sun reflects off the untouched snow, giving the mornings an unnatural glow outside your window. The warmth makes your stomach turn, and the realization of understanding that you’re alone yet again, makes your stomach drop.

“Suguru?” You call before even sitting up, understanding that he could be indisposed in other circumstances around the house. However, you know the truth deep down. You know he’s been at the cafe likely since before the sun came up.

With the looming opening date after the New Year drawing closer and closer, you two have been seeing each other mostly in passing. Everything is how it’s always been, but it feels different this time. Texts are few and far between, phone calls are short – he just has so much on his plate, and all you’ve been doing is working.

You think the working yourself to the bone at your current job might be why you’ve felt so off and run-down lately. It’s sitting like a pit in your gut every time you wake up to a light head or full body exhaustion, and Suguru’s never really here to bear it with you. You can’t burden him like that.

You don’t even want to check your phone and be overstimulated by the calls, messages and emails, but you need to know where he is, and if you can’t call him, a simple location ping would dull your nerves. It seems that even when you gain the nerve to sit up in the slightest, the throes of a hellish headache fall over you, and you’re rendered lifeless once again.

Softly, you groan, deciding to tangle yourself back in the bedsheets and give yourself another hour.

...༻

You wake up again to the blaring sound of your ringtone, and it infuriates you.

With a little more energy, you reach for your phone, snatching it from the table. Half asleep, Suguru’s contact picture is unmistakable – one of him as a smiling boy with bedhead. His mother sends you all the archives, but even the sweetness of the picture can’t ease your throbbing head.

“What?”

‘I know I woke you. I also know you woke up alone, but I am on my way back. Love you.’

“Hu–

Just like that, the line goes dead, and you’re sitting up with a quickness you didn’t even know you possessed when you feel so sickly. You hope he has means to make this up to you, and by his slight choice of words, you think he also has that idea.

So, you lay back in bed and forget that ever existed – tossing and turning, kicking the blankets around to get a spot of coolness. The sun is still beating down on your soft, white sheets, but you don’t have the energy to get up and crank all the windows. You need Suguru to do that so early in the morning.

He shows up about ten minutes after his call, clambering around the home with that unmistakable gentleness in his step. He strips his shoes, socks, coat, and shirt, exhaling softly through his lips as he gathers his bearings. He takes a second, leaning against the counter in his compression pants and baggy shorts, fresh from a jog this morning that turned into a two-hour layover at the cafe.

Suguru’s been trying to get the drains connected to the new espresso bar for a week, but his contractor is booked all through the winter. The one time he could come in just happened to be at 4 A.M, and he was not going to turn down progress.

Now, he’s sweaty and cold, hair sticking to his neck, drying there stiffly. Still, even in his rush to come home, he remembered to stop and grab you a few morning pastries, knowing he’s due for a light scolding for his absence.

He takes another calming breath before straightening out, securing the pastry box in his hands. Suguru tiptoes to the bedroom, finding himself holding back breath as the door creaks open. He smiles immediately when he sees you sprawled in his sheets, hair messy and uncaring as you wait so patiently for him.

“Good morning, beautiful.” He whispers, approaching the side of the bed slowly. Still in a half-dead phase, you mumble something unheard, but caught by him nonetheless. “Did you sleep well?”

“What did you bring me?” You blink awake when Suguru’s shadow shapes into view. He’s sitting at the side of the bed, shirtless and stained with sweat, with a delicate, white box balanced on his lap. You try to sit up.

“Some danishes and breads from the bakery across from the cafe. Lots of citrus, I believe there’s a blood orange one, but I had the staff pick. I know you have not been feeling well, so I hope it’s well received.”

A stupid little smile on your face, you press your hunched back to the headboard, pulling your knees into a cross to balance the box on. “Have one with me.”

“Just one. I smell like hours-old sweat.”

“Mm,” You chew your bottom lip, forgetting that you were ever annoyed at him this morning. Now, he’s sitting next to you with heavy eyes, watching your shaking hands peel open your gift. He thinks he smells bad, and you think he smells like Suguru after he works out. Just so familiar. “Which one do you want to try?”

Suguru watches you marvel at the spread, laughing softly as you poke around the expertly shaped and executed rolls, breads, and pastries. You’d be sure to freeze and use most of these sparingly, but right now you’re so hungry that you could pass right back out in bed.

You answer for him because he’s too busy staring. “I don’t think this one will save well. Let’s split it.”

“Oh, I just want a bite, baby.”

You ignore him, picking up the soft pastry from the box, bringing it to your mouth, and taking a short, tentative bite. Suguru smiles as you begin to chew. You nod about halfway through the bite before moving it in Suguru’s direction.

“Do you like it?” Again, you ignore him, but it’s not on purpose. You just don’t want to speak around your food if you don’t have to. Suguru watches you, then leans forward to take a slightly bigger bite. He lingers for a minute, soft eyes blinking shut as he chews around it. “Mmm,” he decides, catching small crumbs in his hands as you pull it back to your chest. “Wow, I wasn’t expecting the cream center – delicious.”

“When we start trying out food, I would love to do something like this.” You whisper before taking another bite and deciding that’s enough when your guts begin to tremble. Suguru immediately reads the wave on your face.

“Uh oh, too sweet?”

You compose yourself for a minute, staring dead ahead as you try to regain the power to shrug it off and chew again… Something stops you.

“Dear, what’s the matter?” Suguru stands when you scoot out of bed, sleep dress bunching up in all of his favorite areas as you head to the bathroom.

“I’m sorry, if I swallowed that, I would’ve thrown it all up.” Knowing he’s following close behind, you take a napkin and bring it to your lips, trying to dispose of the bite in the slightest way possible.

Suguru waits in the sliding doorway, visibly worried by the paleness in your face and the exhaustion hidden behind every single one of your footsteps. “You’re okay.” He reassures, taking a step closer when you lean over the faucet. He finds you as delicate as a chick as he goes to close in on you, hand wandering to your soft, familiar waist, where he adjusts your silk back over your thighs. In the mirror, you can see him hovering so close it’s almost unnerving. You can tell there’s something he wants to say. “You haven’t been feeling well lately, have you?”

You shrug as he pulls you into a lazy hug, swaying you back and forth in your spot. “It’s probably just the weather.” You begin the ritual of oral care, running a bamboo brush under running water to rid your mouth of the insulting taste of orange compote. In a mission to change the subject, you add, “How’s the cafe?”

“Ah.” You remind him to remind you, hands pressing down on your comfortable hips before stepping away to shower again. “Our espresso bar is all hooked up – everything is draining correctly, and the water pressure is pristine.”

That news makes you smile, knowing you’re one step closer to drink curation. “I’m assuming – hoping – he did all the bar sinks as well.”

“Mm,” Suguru gives you a look over the shoulder as he presses a few buttons for the shower. The room heats—vents buzz to life around you. “No, babe. He just did the actual machine.”

“Then, I’m assuming you’ll be a plumber for a day and reroute all my sinks? You can lay pipes like that, Sugu?” You turn around, watching him strip naked as you begin brushing your teeth. Suguru lets his hair down, combing his long fingers through the ends to loosen up the sweaty knots.

“You’ve seen me lay plenty of them in the past.” He gives you in passing, chewing on a soft laugh when he steps into the shower, out of sight. Still you watch him, running your brush over your teeth slowly – gently.

“Are we still on track to open around New Years?”

You can see his reflection vaguely through the door, standing straight, letting the water soak his fine hair to the scalp. Your husband always starts on his hair when he showers. “Once we get our permits in, it’s just a matter of stock and training.” He talks like he knows everything, and to a certain extent, you feel like he does. You smile around his answer, turning around to spit your teeth clean in the sink.

You dote on your reflection for a moment, cleaning up as you go while you have all the room for yourself. “Suguru?” You call into the air, unsure of what to say when he responds, but just itching to hear his water-drained vocals when he replies,

“Yes, my love?”

...༻

You feel it again when you’re at the Cafe, waist deep in paint and weak from constant kneeling and standing. Suguru’s behind the bar with his head under the counter, grunting as old, leaky pipes drip softly, splashing bits of water. Still he persists, wrenching a new connector to the pipe he just replaced.

Your weekends have looked like this since he got the cafe – one week it’s floors, then it’s walls, plumbing or demo. For having such a old building, you two only ran your luck dry twice. Once, with termites, and the other with rain damage making the roof leak. Suguru takes charge right as the first crack shows, either getting tools himself, or calling friends of friends who could point him to a guy. It’s mystifying seeing him in such a position, he never lets anything show lack, just like your marriage.

Though, he’s leaning into the new way of things, you are dragging. It seems like you’ve only been feeling weaker and weaker as the winter sets in. Snow falls and you’re hiding the gag in your throat at dinner. Chilling air hits you outside, and you’re doing everything you can not to faint into the snow.

Suguru notices it, too. Perhaps he takes notice before you do, because it’s been at the top of his mind since the beginning of the month. You shied away from his touch just one too many times, had to catch your breath before continuing, and tossed and turned through too many nights to call this an isolated incident.

Still, he’s waiting for you to turn it into something bigger. He believes he knows your body, but you know it a million times better.

He notices it in you this time when he slides out of the cabinet, wiping damp hair from his head. You’re in the dining area to his left, kneeling over a tray of fresh paint with your nose pressed close. Unkempt, your hair falls into the soft brown tone, it’s smudges lining your cheeks. Paintbrush still in hand and all, Suguru perks up.

“Hey, are you okay?” He stands on his feet quickly, genuinely afraid for your health. You disregard him for a second too long, taking in small lungfulls of the intoxicating paint smell. He must take your ease for complacency, because he rushes to you with a speed unnatural for everyone but him. “Babe?!”

“Oh, I’m fine.” You reply, as calm as he is not. You don’t see what’s so unbelievable about what you’re doing, but your mind is also off in another realm recently. The paint just happened to smell specifically good, so you pressed your nose into it. Reminding yourself to sit back up slowly, you smile up at him as he gawks – upper lip pulled in bewilderment.

“Sniffing paint… you’re fine?”

“Stop, I’m not crazy or anything.” You let your voice dip into something he can read as innocent. You know he’s been trying to see something on you for these last few days – I mean, to him it’s unmistakable. Still, he chooses to let you have it for another moment.

Suguru waits as you rise slowly, turning over to your knees, then stepping on each foot. He stands up with you, helping you with his steadiness you don’t quite possess. Then, he speaks exactly what’s on his mind – he knows it’s always the best course of communication for the two of you. “I think you’re pregnant. I think you do, too.”

You stare at him like he just cursed you, all wide and struck silent as he holds both your hands in his grip. “Suguru, look–

“One moment.” He pauses, reaching forward to smear a hint of paint from your nose, smiling when your mouth hangs in pause. “Go on.”

“I didn’t think I was until this weekend when I couldn’t keep my food down.”

“So, why didn’t you tell me? We could have tested and started planning.”

“Yeah, planning to move? Time off work? Push back the cafe opening? We can’t do any of that.” You scoff, pulling your hands to your chest to cross them back to your body. Suguru watches you with a small dip in his brow, visibly worried by what you are relaying him.

“I-it’s our baby, we have to do a few, if not all of that in its favor.”

You shrug again, doing anything to keep his attention away from your eyes. You can never lie when he’s staring right at you. “We don’t know if I’m actually pregnant or not.”

“Even you don’t believe yourself.”

You scoff around his words, hating how he sounds so sweet even when he’s commanding the situation in his favor. Unintentionally staring you down like you’re small, Suguru reaches to touch your shoulder, squeezing you for reassurance. “We never said we weren’t trying.”

“But, we weren’t.”

Suguru looks up shortly, thinking back to all the times you dared him to get you pregnant in the heat of the moment. Of course, it’s only lustful renditions of the truth, but those still held in his mind, so that’s what he did. He gave you the baby you kept asking for over and over and over again until you were too weak to walk. He can’t help but find it mildly comical that you’re facing regret now.

“Look – don’t be mad at yourself, okay? It’s not anything to be upset about, it’s just a bit scary.” He swings into full protector mode when he sees your shoulders start to close in. He pulls you into his sweaty chest and holds you close, petting the back of your head. “You can blame it all on me, okay? Just for now, while the wound is still fresh.”

“I don’t even know if i’m pregnant.” You repeat as a last ditch effort to hold onto yourself, and not to the life you know is being nurtured by your body at this current moment, and the weeks prior. “I-I just feel sick… like I will wake up tomorrow and feel like myself again.”

Suguru nods like he completely understands, but knows that he physically can’t. Still, he wants to be there for you. He needs to be the one that holds your hands through it all. Throughout every single second.

...༻

It’s why he’s not surprised, nor is he overly excited or angry when he sees the positive test in his hands later that night. Instead of anything at all, Suguru feels like a piece of his old self completely detached in the moment. When he looks up at you after seeing it, that’s all he sees on your face, too. Like you’re ashamed.

“I’m scared.” You whisper to him, locked in the dark comfort of your tiny apartment bathroom at midnight. He nods, abandoning the shiny plastic stick on the countertop so he can pull you into a hug so close, it could make you forget your first name.

“So am I.” He responds, suddenly so sure and secure in himself as a man and as a soon to be father. He’s carrying you through this like he didn’t need the help, but he can’t burden you like that. He shouldn’t – you’re the one going through the changes and carrying a life. All he can do is bear the heavy-lifting for just a while, then you’ll be back and stronger than you’ve ever been. “We will be okay,” He decides with a reassuring kiss to the top of your head, nuzzling his nose into your scent so he can close his eyes and space out for a second.

Pressed into him, unable to swallow back the tears that well to the surface, you choke on a soft, scared, “I know.”

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

Jasmine