previously on...

pov: all your faves lived ⁙

[strwbrrybxn]

previously on allyallygator strwbrrybxn. . .

name change: @/allyallygator ↬ @strwbrrybxn

a non anime + dark content blog has been created . . . @allaboutyn

get to know the author + what's being currently worked on . . .

currently working on: neighbor series jungkook + kakashi pieces ⁙

navigation ⁙ rules ⁙ topics + characters

original characters ⁙ tag list ⁙ AO3

[strwbrrybxn]

but what if wonho and monsta x collab? what happens then?

[lvmimis]

no bc they need to get hard in the crotch and soft in the heart when they see you every time

[lvmimis]

sharp in the head too this isn't a game

[ashstfu]

forever rooting for sensitive girls!!!!!! you have big hearts and a poet’s soul i love you

[karmareleased]

Really gross of me to desire attention, disgusting honestly.

[bunnying-182]

Here's our Vet Kakashi — the winner of the Tumblr poll! 🐾✨

[deliriously-donna]

kakashi hatake x female reader

You weren’t sure why you were so surprised, it made perfect sense when you really thought about it. Yet, it still came as a shock the first time you saw Kakashi naked, and the happy trail which snaked below his belly button down to the thicker thatch of coarse but neatly trimmed hairs at the base of his cock was as equally silver as the hair on his head.

“Uhh… is everything okay?” Kakashi stammered, rubbing at the back of his neck with that slightly concerned smile of his.

His voice broke your reverie, heat bloomed across your skin at how openly you had been staring at his body without speaking. The kisses you had been sharing paused whilst your brain tried to process something that shouldn’t have interrupted you so badly. The twitch of his cock made you jump, nervous laughter rumbling in the chest you were leaning against.

“S-sorry. I just wasn’t expecting… didn’t think you’d be—uhm.”

A calloused finger and thumb captured your chin, lifting your gaze from his impressive abdominals and the girth of his dick that continued to bob under your inspective stare. Kakashi’s other hand found yours and slowly moved it to the heat of his skin, the velvet softness was pleasant against your palm, fingers curling around him to stroke leisurely.

Kakashi moaned. His charcoal eyes slowly sliding shut whilst you explored the newness of this whole situation. Your fingertips traced the veins that stood proudly against his shaft, the pad of your thumb messily playing with the sticky beads of precum that escaped his slit.

“Didn’t think what?”

His voice was strained, thick with desire and it made you cuddle in closer to his form. With your clothes still on and his scattered across the bed, this felt naughty in a way you had never experienced. Your thighs clenched together, the feel of your clothing rubbing at your skin had you wishing to rip at them, or more so that he would.

“Didn’t think your hair down here would be… would be the same colour,” you admitted bashfully, met by a bark of laughter that had you huffing and pouting.

Without warning, Kakashi grasped at your hips and rolled you on top of him. Your hands shot up and out to brace palms at either side of his face, a face which was alight with humour and mischief. Those pretty eyes twinkling with mirth at your admission.

A palm pressed between your shoulder blades to bring you closer to him, warm lips kissing away your sullen little pout with ease. You could feel his cock sandwiched between your bodies, his hips moving so he was thrusting softly against your clothed stomach.

“Here I thought you were going to compliment my size…”

“Kakashi!”

“A guy can dream,” he chuckled quietly, nipping playfully at your bottom lip. “For the record, what colour did you expect my body hair to be?”

It was a question you didn’t know how to answer, because honestly, what had you expected? Your face warmed even more, failing to meet his eye once again.

“Silly girl…” he teased when you didn’t reply. “I think it’s high time I become familiar with what colour you are down there, don’t you?”

an: hi hello if you got this far! This is a repost from my old blog because it still makes me laugh to think about this. What colour did you expect? It makes sense for the carpet to match the curtains right? 😆 fuck I love him…

[deliriously-donna]

New Beginnings & Chance Encounters [chapter one]

story summary: Kakashi Hatake, newly appointed Hokage, is bored. So when he takes to following an intriguing woman around the halls of Hokage tower, he knows that now is finally the time to act a little selfishly.

A new assignment leads you to the door of the Hokage’s office, a man who you had admired from a safe distance for years. What happens next finds you embroiled in a closely guarded secret which will change everything.

In a story where the past might be hard to let go, can two people thrown together find some semblance of love, happiness and peace?

There was only silence, deafened by the pound of your heart and after a few seconds, you were turning on your heel when the door tugged open. Your head snapped up and you met the eyes of the very person you had hoped wouldn’t answer. 

warnings: SFW and nothing that requires a warning imo

Prologue | Masterlist | Read on ao3 | Chapter Two

“Lord Sixth, are you listening?” 

Kakashi was vaguely aware of a conversation of some kind and for a long moment, he wondered who they were addressing. He stared into the depths of the grand desk he was sitting behind, the polished surface reflecting a face which looked downright bored stupid. A pair of steel grey eyes unfocused and heavy from drowsiness blinked slowly; one cheek pressed flush against his open palm and again a voice spoke from somewhere close by. 

“Lord S–” 

“Kakashi! Snap out of it,” Shikamaru drawled in exasperation. 

His voice was louder than usual, and it was enough to make Kakashi finally lift his head with a faint hum of acknowledgement. He might not know why Shikamaru was so irritated, but he was sensible enough to realise it was most likely directed at him. 

It had been almost a month since he had been officially declared the new Hokage, and the time had crawled by at a maddeningly slow pace. Once the initial week of what Shizune had called mandatory celebrations and traditional ceremonies, everything had grounded to a halt. 

Every day felt the same; the monotony was like a poison in his veins that made him sluggish, and that only served to irk him more. Never did he think he would miss having to make awkward small talk with visiting dignitaries, but here he was. 

His days were a far cry from those of the past; it felt like the longest time since he had awoken in his house on so many consecutive mornings as was the case right now. There were no dangers to the world to be dealt with, no sinister plots to unravel, and no need for him to put his life on the line at every turn.  

Boring. 

It was all so very dull but instead of sliding into despair, Kakashi had clung desperately to the things which he could still control. The aspects of his life that had become routine since those first days when he had become sensei to what had once been Team 7.  

Back then could he have ever known what lay in wait for them all?  

It was something he often thought about; the nagging doubt lingered at the periphery of his mind that perhaps there was something he could have done or said differently to prevent all that had come to transpire, but he knew all too well that it was a fruitless endeavour. 

The wheels had long been in motion before anyone could have known, and there was no point in continuing to wonder ‘what if?’ when all was now said and done. He had lived with guilt for longer than a person should have to, and there was still a sense of it clinging to him with claws sunk deep into his psyche. He was healing, slowly, but any progress was better than wallowing in the pit of self-hatred he had made when he was much too young.  

To maintain his sanity, Kakashi continued to cook a healthy breakfast each morning, prepared a homemade lunch to take to the office and worked out until he was drenched from head to foot in sweat. Only once he felt like every muscle in his body was screaming in searing protest, did he bathe. 

He washed away the grime and sweat which clung to his torso, calloused fingers gliding over the rough edges of the scars that littered his frame. A map of his past, each one an event in his history that made him the man he was today. 

Kakashi tried to ignore them as best he could. Some were decades old, such as the scar running down his left eye, but the one emblazoned across his chest… that one he tried to avoid looking at the most. It was still too fresh. The wound was still raw in his mind though it was as healed as it would ever be on his body. 

Aesthetic reasoning had nothing to do with his reservation, he was secure in his own skin and not concerned with his battle wounds making him any less attractive. Some might say it was big-headed of him to think like that, but it wasn’t as if he chose how he appeared, and actually, he hid most of it behind his mask, shunning the attention. 

No, what held him back from lingering on his scars was more the emotional turmoil they evoked, the memories of receiving each and every one branded onto his soul. The marks there were far deeper than the ones only skin deep. 

How could he ever think to look in a mirror and not see a young Obito, to remember the agony of losing his eye and the gift that had been bestowed upon him? The grizzly, heart-wrenching sight of his squad mate half crushed under rocks.  

The lingering phantom pain of possessing the Sharingan still woke him in the dead of night at times, and he experienced his fair share of headaches brought on by the stress of enduring an attribute that he had no claim to own. 

Stark reminders of his past aside, it was important to continue in a manner that brought him a sense of control over his life. It almost seemed as if since becoming Hokage, Kakashi had far less control over anything, having to attend to whatever was deemed the latest emergency rather than choosing his own focus. For the person considered to be in the highest position of power, it was rather surprising to feel as jerked around as he did. 

Much like right now… 

“Were you talking to me?” he asked, looking to Shikamaru and Shizune in turn.  

Shizune scowled. “You are Lord Sixth, are you not?” 

Shikamaru shook his head, flopping down into the chair opposite Kakashi whilst the man in question ran a palm down his face in exasperation. 

“Drop the Lord nonsense, you know I don’t care for the formalities.” 

“Anyway…” the Nara interjected before Shizune could bite back. “Did you hear anything that we’ve been saying? At least tell me that you realise how important this visit could be for Konoha?” 

Oh, he really was in trouble.  

Kakashi wracked his brain to find any clues as to what he might have missed, not wanting to admit to having spaced out entirely. It had been a long day of reading reports and signing so many documents that his wrist cramped at the mere thought of holding a pen again. 

Thinking back to a conversation prior to lunch, Kakashi vaguely recalled something about an upcoming visit, a Kage for sure, but which one?  

It was difficult to maintain his train of thought, his mind slipping back to the leisurely stroll he had found himself taking within the Hokage tower not long after the conversation he was trying to recall. There was far more to the building than he had ever noted, accustomed to reporting directly to the Hokage’s office and nothing more, but there were so many people in here that he found it quite curious to watch them at work. 

Perhaps it was rather narrow-minded of him to not contemplate all the manpower that went into keeping Konoha running as smoothly as it did, but his ways were changing with each passing day. Today, Kakashi had found himself drawn in by a voice, one that seemed familiar, but he couldn’t place why. It was faint, a whisper on the wind and it called him forward like a siren song. 

His feet had moved without thought, entering a workspace which compromised a somewhat open-plan office with larger sectioned cubicles in all four corners, nothing special. A series of heads turned in his direction, most looking confused then awestruck at his presence and he could hardly blame them for the confusion. Lifting his hand in a silent greeting, his eyes closed in the signature smile which he was known for, hoping it would settle any nervous feelings. 

Kakashi surveyed the office, wondering exactly what, or more accurately, who had inspired him to venture inside. No one stood out, not that he could see, and he was about to turn on his heel when a flash of movement caught his eye. Laughter, light and melodic, followed the swish of hair as it rounded the corner of a door on the opposite side of the office, and was quickly out of sight. 

It was her. He didn’t know how he knew, but he did. 

Whoever had exited just now was the owner of the voice he had heard all those nights ago. The person who had hummed a tune so enchanting that he had stopped in his tracks out of sight to listen more, enamoured enough by the gentle lilt and the surprising comfort it had elicited. A sensation he was far from accustomed to, and one that sent a ripple of fear down his spine. 

Did he dare to follow her to get a better glimpse?  

The answer was no, his courage failing him in the question of what exactly would he even say. 

“Hi there, just your friendly Hokage popping in to find out how things are going in…” 

His internal monologue stalled as he searched for a clue as to what department he was loitering in. Scanning the nearest bank of desks he found several nameplates, disregarding the names to focus on the department listed beneath—records. 

Kakashi had left before the temptation grew too potent; his fingers already itched and he curled them into fists to subdue the restless feeling. He returned to his office with a quiet sigh, conceding that this would not be the last time he would take that particular route. He hoped that if he made it a habit to pass by that specific office, he might catch sight of the girl in question.  

It should bother him how excited he was at the prospect, a flare of uncertainty mingling with his enthusiasm. When was the last time he had considered pursuing any woman outside of meaningless flings? Had he ever…?  

If he were to be bound to this building and the monotony of his new role, he would consider it finally time to lay something just as valuable as his life on the line, his heart. 

Shaking away these thoughts that were most certainly irrelevant right now, Kakashi cleared his throat and took a stab in the dark. “Of course, it’ll be the first time that the Kazekage visits Konoha since I took office. Gaara and Sunagakure are our closest allies, so it makes sense that he be the first invited.” 

“Pulled that straight from your ass, didn’t you?” Shikamaru smirked knowingly, shaking his head whilst Shizune stared through narrowed eyes. Her mouth opened and closed, repeating the pattern several times over and it amused him to no end. 

“Think what you like Shikamaru, in the end, I’m right, aren’t I?” Kakashi said, secretly delighted at himself. 

His newly appointed advisor grunted in response. “We’ve got a decent amount of time before the visit is scheduled. I suggest that you use the time to get whatever is on your mind, resolved.” 

Shizune turned with a frown and Kakashi reeled from the accurate assessment levelled at him. Heat crept up the sides of his neck, tactfully concealed by his mask and he studied the Nara with a sense of equal parts, pride and wariness. Was he so obvious to read or was Shikamaru simply displaying an act of his well-known genius? 

“Well… if that’s all. I think we are done here,” Kakashi mumbled, wiping a hand across the back of his prickling neck. 

Left to his own devices once more, he strode for the window and looked out at the streets of Konoha. What exactly was he considering here? Pursuing a girl he hadn’t even fully seen, all he knew was that she had lovely hair and the voice of an angel.  

It was a foolish venture, surely.  

Yet there was a persistent voice in the back of his head that told him that it would be worth it to let his guard down and take the chance. Was he really going to let a niggling voice guide his actions? It seemed so, for after all, what did he have to lose from this venture? 

“Well, at least it’ll be more exciting than anything else I’ve got going on right now,” he mused to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Perhaps if he considered it as a mission of sorts, it would seem more agreeable and even as the idea tumbled through his mind, Kakashi rolled his eyes in exasperation but couldn’t deny the excitement that flitted in his veins. 

A new challenge, that was exactly what he needed. 

~~~

It was an extremely weird sensation to feel like you had experienced an entire month and half in what seemed like only the blink of an eye, and yet, that was exactly what had happened. When you stopped to consider it, it still felt as if it were only yesterday where you were shown to your new desk and introduced to the team you’d be leading. 

Casting your mind back to the polished desk which had been bare and fresh looking, it was evident that a lot had changed within that time. Now, the surface was stacked with neat piles of papers, a few manila folders with sticky notes plastered on them, and not to mention the vast array of stationery in a rainbow of colours. It was cluttered but organised—the perfect metaphor for how you worked. 

To others, it would appear like chaos but there was a method to your madness and as long as you got the job done what did it matter if your desk looked a little messy? It was sectioned off from the rest of the space; you were lucky to have been gifted a corner seat as one of the newest members of the management team which meant that no one had to witness the horrors unless they were looking to speak with you directly. 

You stretched your arms overhead, fingers wiggling towards the ceiling. After a moment or two, you slumped back in your chair and let your eyes slide shut for a short reprieve. 

A smile played absently over your lips, it was nice to feel a sense of contentment at work, and you truly did. Given that you had worked in this same department since you were old enough to take a part-time job, you were familiar with everyone and all the little quirks and nuances that came with the department as a whole as well as the people working here. 

You would be lying if you said there hadn’t been a certain degree of nerves prior to taking the step up the ladder that your colleagues wouldn’t adapt well, but it had fortunately turned out to be unfounded. The team you had been given worked well together and you had no complaints so why did your smile turn sour the longer your mind wandered? What caused the prickle of uncertainty to creep your back like being plunged into ice cold water unexpectedly? 

Rubbing your fingers against the back of your neck did little to dissuade the rise of your shoulders as they moved closer to your ears. It was a sensation you were becoming familiar with, and it was confusing. For the past two weeks, there were times when you felt like you were being watched; funnily enough, it always seemed to be around lunchtime or not long after. 

The first time you had been aware of the feeling, you had swung around in the hallway to find it quite deserted, though the longer you stood there, the more confident you were that you could hear retreating footsteps which grew quieter with every second you waited. There was no urgency to them, and you had shrugged it off as a simple trick of an overactive imagination.  

However, it became more frequent and almost like a game the longer it went on.  

It was a bothersome ordeal and not in the way you would have assumed, surely there would be a reasonable level of fear in believing that someone was looking over your shoulder, but it was quite the opposite. For some unbelievable reason it tugged a smile onto your lips. You found yourself rolling your eyes as you attempted to catch your admirer in the act, or at least you assumed them to be an admirer given that you had no suspicion of ill will. To date, all you had glimpsed was a blur of white or silver and what looked like the tails of a cloak disappearing around a corner. 

On more than one occasion you had considered speaking to your colleagues about it, simply to gauge whether they too had sensed such a presence but the anxiety of sounding crazy held you back. No, instead, you worried your lip between your teeth and tried your best to go about your business as usual. If they wanted something, they’d have to make themselves known sooner or later. 

“Do you have a minute?”  

The voice of your boss cut through the flurry of your thoughts, and jolted you upwards in your chair, almost knocking a stack of precariously balanced files over in your surprise. Thankfully your quick reflexes managed to save the tower at the last moment. 

“Oh, careful! Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Deep in thought?” she asked curiously. 

You nodded, straightening the files to ensure they didn’t fall over again and turned in your chair to give her your full attention. “Aha, yeah, something like that. I was miles away. Did you say you needed me?” 

“Mhm, that’s right. Can you follow me to the meeting room?” 

Anxiety prickled your neck, the default position of your brain immediately switching to every possible negative outcome possible.  

You were being demoted.  

No, you were being fired.  

Worse, you were being fired and exiled from Konohagakure! 

It was at times like these that you hated your brain, how it churned through images of the worst possibilities and turned your stomach into a cement mixer. The short walk to the meeting room was fraught with nerves despite the friendly banter your boss attempted to engage you in. All you could do was plaster a fake smile on your face and pray for whatever was going to happen to be quick. 

“You’ve been doing some excellent work. Your team is performing well, and I thought you might like something to challenge you a bit more,” your boss began, much to your immense relief.  

“Wait, did you think you were in some kind of trouble?” she asked at your lengthy exhale and visible slumping. 

You could only laugh, the tension that had manifested in your shoulders eased and you pressed a palm to your forehead.  

“Sorry! I have trouble with being a bit negative at times, but that doesn’t matter right now, tell me about this project.” You waved a hand at how ridiculous you had been only moments ago, praying that you could put it behind you, and that your cheeks would cool down. 

A crimson folder thudded against the table; it was skinny, far skinnier than a regular file and you immediately recognised it to be a shinobi’s personal file. These were some of the most confidential documents within the Hokage’s Tower and very few were ever given access to them. With eyes as round as saucers, you peered at your boss who wore a grim smile of confirmation.  

A mixture of emotions swirled inside your mind; awe and pride at being given this privilege but also fear and trepidation as to what it might entail. You had little to do with the shinobi of Konoha, your closest tie being that your father had once been a part of their ranks, but he had retired from active service before you turned five. He had friends who had visited on occasion, sure, but it still felt like a world you had no part in. 

“Whose file is that?” 

There was no verbal answer, only the folder being pressed deliberately to your side of the table. Turning it slowly, your eyes snapped up upon reading the name, barely concealing a gasp of surprise. Your stomach dropped back to your toes, and you could only gape like a fish out of water. “W-why are you showing me this?” 

How could it be this light? It weighed so little as you picked it up with trembling fingers, your forefinger brushing over the name typed in bold font in the top corner. This was someone that everyone knew the name of, altthough it hadn’t always been that way, and most of what was known was far from good. 

“There are two documents missing from his file, one that I’ve seen with my own eyes many years ago and the other… well, no one claims to have ever seen it though it was confirmed to be present in the records system.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, suddenly looking much older than her years. “We would like you to investigate and locate the missing documents if you can, or if they have been destroyed or stolen, point us in the direction of the perpetrator so it can be dealt with correctly.” 

This was far more serious than you had anticipated, and you swallowed thickly, a riot of questions forming but was it really your place to question what exactly was going on here? All you knew for certain was that this ran far deeper than was being let on. The implications of what it could mean for documents from within this file to be considered lost or stolen ran a high-security risk for sure. 

“Shouldn’t this be a task for the intelligence service? Surely, they would be far better suited to look into this than a civilian from records,” you asked quietly.  

It was a valid point, there were dedicated services that dealt with these kinds of affairs and honestly, you didn’t fully understand why you were being trusted with this kind of classified information. 

“Would it reassure you to know that they are involved? They are looking at the matter from a variety of possible angles whereas we want you to investigate it purely in an administrative sense. You know the department well, and you have a good eye for detail, so don’t doubt yourself.” 

Your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth, lips dry as you parted them. “Al-alright. I’ll need someone else to take over my other duties and –” 

The rest of your requests were dismissed as it seemed everything had already been thought of before you had even said yes… “Consider it already taken care of, we need you to simply focus on this and I can’t stress enough that this is time critical and top secret.” 

All you could do was nod, your brain short circuiting at where the day had led you. 

Back at your desk, you flipped through the folder entrusted to you. Nothing inside was surprising, and you hadn’t read too deeply into the mission reports within, only giving a cursory glance at the names mentioned within each one with that heavy lead weight only pressing on you more as you continued.  

So engrossed in your task, you didn’t take lunch as you usually did and didn’t even lift your head at the commotion out in the main office. If you had, you might have seen or heard the whispers about a certain someone who had paid an unannounced visit before leaving promptly again. It was the second time the Hokage had loitered in your office, and you hadn’t been aware of either occasion, but little did you know that your paths would cross, and soon. 

The fresh notepad you’d pulled out was scrawled with messy notes. Dates and pieces of information you’d picked out to examine closer. Hunched over your desk like a little gremlin, so conscious of not letting anyone see what you were working on, it wasn’t until you reached a point in which you had more questions than answers, that you paused and sat back with a heavy sigh. 

It was after 6pm and you should have clocked out over an hour ago. The office was quiet, the only light coming from your desk lamp and you stretched out your tired back and arms. You were looking for two missing death certificates, an interesting turn of events that there would ever be two in the first place but then things didn’t always happen like normal in the shinobi world.  

The reports of both incidents leading up to the respective deaths were still present and you had read them at length several times, despite not wanting to relive those horrific moments. It was heart wrenching to read about someone’s demise and to think that it had apparently happened twice made it all the worse.  

Both reports lay side by side and you turned them over to where they were signed by the witnessing party and stamped with official receipt. The same signature was signed against both and your heart stuttered. How had you missed that detail? Too focused on the grizzly events within them to look at who had made the reports, you could slap yourself. 

You were more than familiar with the name, who in Konoha didn’t know Kakashi Hatake, after all? He was the current serving Hokage, and he was known by at least a handful of different aliases as well as being at the very heart of the Third Shinobi War.  

All facts, yes, but they were only the half of it. 

Kakashi… your eyes slid shut as the image of him appeared in your mind’s eye. You weren’t the only person to find him attractive; the man himself even knew his own self-worth and chose to hide it behind a mask. How you longed to see beneath that thin fabric which kept the world at bay.  

You remembered a time a few years back when you had spotted him waiting outside the Hokage’s office and your feet had refused to budge for a full minute. Thankfully, he hadn’t turned to see you staring at him like a lovesick puppy and your humiliation had remained in your head but still, why did it have to be him? 

Logically, it made sense.  

You had read the reports, and he present at both incidents so of course he would be able to provide a first-hand account but now that meant you really should speak to him about it. There was every chance that he was already aware of the discrepancy given his position, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask him some questions. The thought made you tremble but dammit, this was your job and you would be professional. 

Would he still be in his office at this time? Surely not. Perhaps if you familiarised yourself with the route to the office you would feel less stressed tomorrow when you would have to take the plunge and ask for a moment of his time or maybe have to schedule a meeting, given how busy he likely was. 

With the folder tucked securely into your backpack and slung over your shoulder, you studiously kept your gaze on your feet as you wound your way towards the highest part of the building. You saw very few people on your way, nodding politely when you did but no conversation was attempted and you were glad you weren’t questioned about where you were headed. 

The door appeared quicker than you expected.  

You stood rooted to the spot and wondered what the hell you would even say if someone did answer. It was better to convince yourself that your knocks would go unanswered. Other than what everyone in the village knew of him, you didn’t know Kakashi Hatake, he was a perfect stranger to you, and this was work. Work, you reminded yourself, lifting your hand and knocking three times in quick succession. 

There was only silence, deafened by the pound of your heart and after a few seconds, you were turning on your heel when the door tugged open. Your head snapped up and you met the eyes of the very person you had hoped wouldn’t answer. 

The steel grey eyes of Lord Sixth fell upon you and you felt like a deer caught in the eyes of a hunter.  

With your wits scattered to the wind, you didn’t notice the subtle widening of his gaze nor the slight tilt of his head. Behind the ever-present mask, a subtle smile played on his lips, and you could only stare like an idiot. 

Well... fuck! 

[strwbrrybxn]

“Pulled that straight from your ass, didn’t you?” Shikamaru smirked knowingly, shaking his head whilst Shizune stared through narrowed eyes. Her mouth opened and closed, repeating the pattern several times over and it amused him to no end. 

“Think what you like Shikamaru, in the end, I’m right, aren’t I?” Kakashi said, secretly delighted at himself. 

I looooove this and the ending? I can't wait for the next part 😍

[deliriously-donna]

Prologue

story summary: Kakashi Hatake, newly appointed Hokage, is bored. So when he takes to following an intriguing woman around the halls of Hokage tower, he knows that now is finally the time to act a little selfishly.

A new assignment leads you to the door of the Hokage’s office, a man who you had admired from a safe distance for years. What happens next finds you embroiled in a closely guarded secret which will change everything.

In a story where the past might be hard to let go, can two people thrown together find some semblance of love, happiness and peace?

You stood with a wobble, reaching out your hand to steady yourself on the wall whilst your friends laughed. “You don’t know!” you slurred. “Hey, maybe I’ll make friends with some highfalutin officials, y’know, the ones who serve the Hokage directly or something wild like that.” 

warnings: alcohol consumption, SFW and nothing else I don't think

Masterlist | Read on ao3 | Chapter One

“Remind me again why I agreed to this?” 

Kakashi’s index finger completed yet another circle around the rim of his sake cup, less than a few sips remained, but he couldn’t face them. The same could not be said for his current drinking partner. Lady Tsunade swayed dangerously, clutching the empty sake carafe to her ample chest like it was her treasured child. 

“…s’too late to change your—” 

There was a pause before she belched violently and continued, “mind.” 

The former Hokage laughed raucously, the carafe between her breasts slipping from her fingers to roll across the tatami mat. It came to a stop at the sliding door; the screen opened to reveal Shizune looking less than impressed. Her brow furrowed at the drunken antics of Lady Tsunade, and Kakashi braced himself for the ear bashing that was likely to begin any second, glad he wasn’t on the receiving end. 

“That’s it, you’re cut off!” Shizune fumed, dark bangs blowing out at the huff that pressed through her nose. 

The intoxicated Senju merely rolled her eyes; one blazingly red cheek pressed sloppily into her fist, sullen in the face of being scolded like a naughty child. Her blonde hair swung forward to obscure more of her features, for the best given the scowl that was etching itself on her face. 

Kakashi leaned back on his wrist to survey the situation with a soft sigh of amusement. He watched the two women bicker back and forth, not truly listening to the words, more noticing the subtle shift in body language which more than demonstrated the close bond the two had, and there was a strange sense of loss in his chest. 

He rubbed his palm over the spot that suddenly felt empty, a frown tugging his mouth down, but now was not the time to contemplate unravelling the mystery of his unsettled emotions. Clearing his throat sharply for attention, two sets of eyes cut to him, one far sharper and more focused than the other. 

“Perhaps I’ll ask you the question instead.” Kakashi gestured to Shizune with the sake cup still in his hand. “Why exactly did I agree to this, to become the next Hokage?” 

He hadn’t expected the almost apologetic smile that she offered, the softening of her features from riled to guilty so suddenly that he stiffened in response. For months now Kakashi had the sense that he had made a mistake, that this particular path was not one meant to be walked by him. Maybe it would be more fitting of another with the patience required of the position. This wasn’t his forte in life, surely? 

Spending every day putting his life on the line for his village, protecting the ones who he cared for most and nurturing the future generations of shinobi, that was his calling, what he knew best and now he was expected to… not do that? 

A life spent behind a desk stacked with reports, missions to be assigned rather than undertaken and decision-making at a level he considered to be far above his stance. 

It had felt like the next logical step, and it wasn’t the first time he had considered taking the position. There had been that brief time when the worst had been feared for Lady Tsunade survival, and Kakashi had been seconds away from filling the role, but thankfully it had not been necessary. 

The few he had trusted enough to discuss matters with before he had given his final answer had all agreed that he would be perfect for it, but it was hard to agree with them, and he inherently disliked doubting his abilities. It wasn’t something he was used to doing, nor did he wish it to become habitual. 

“Superiority complex?” chided Tsunade. 

Kakashi shrugged, returning his now empty cup to the table and looking toward the only sober person in the room. Shizune fidgeted, her eyes never seeming to meet his own, and that only piqued his curiosity further. 

“You didn’t think I would take the offer, did you?” he asked flatly. Shizune exhaled with her shoulders rolling back, finally maintaining more than a fleeting second of eye contact. 

“Honestly? No, I didn’t think you would agree. That’s not to say that I don’t believe you to be fitting of the role, far from it,” she added with a pointed finger. “It’s just… don’t take this the wrong way, but I never thought you’d willingly step back from active duty.” 

She wasn’t wrong. It was the main reason he had taken so long to deliberate.  

“I don’t think anyone can answer your question but you, Kakashi. I’ll see you through the transition, but I’ll remind you that my replacement is something that needs to be at the top of your priority list. You’re a capable man, but no man is an island, and relying on someone is not a weakness.” 

“No worries, I have a thought on who might be best to fill your spot, although if you wanted to stay on longer… I wouldn’t object,” he said with a closed eye smile, wondering just how exactly he was going to broach that subject with the person in mind. He could already tell it might be a hard sell, a lot of work for someone who did their very best to shirk as much responsibility as humanly possible. 

An uncomfortable silence fell over the trio. 

“I guess you’re right, Shizune. I’ll have to do some soul searching,” he agreed once the pressure to end the seeming stalemate overwhelmed him. 

Kakashi pushed to stand, but before he could take the few steps required to reach the sliding door, he was interrupted by a powerful palm which stilled against the very centre of his chest. It landed exactly where his scar intersected beneath the layers of his clothes. He hadn’t even noted her stand until she was directly before him. How worrying it was to realise that his reactions were either too sluggish or, more likely, that Lady Tsunade was simply that powerful he hadn’t tracked the movement. 

Tsunade appeared more lucid at this moment than she had all night, even prior to the copious amounts of sake she had imbibed. Brown eyes, dark and searing, held him in place. Gone was the intoxicated humour, the light which had danced in her eyes snuffed out and here was the serious Senju princess ready to face any foe before her. 

“We both know that even if it isn’t the entire reason, it is partly because you owe me. Isn’t that, right?” 

There was no need for a response, nor could he think of one quick enough. The weight of the former Hokage’s words hung around his neck like heavy steel. Kakashi inclined his head in acknowledgement and stepped past the two ladies without a backwards glance.  

The streets of Konoha were quiet, the velvet blanket of night resting over the village and bringing with it a sense of tranquillity. Too bad that he could not benefit from that peace; his thoughts were far too turbulent to be lulled into a false sense of comfort. 

His mind wandered to the forests surrounding Konoha, the parts owned by the Nara clan specifically, and the presence which called it home much like a ghost who called its haunting grounds home. 

“You’re right, Lady Tsunade. I owe you a great debt.” 

~ 

“Do you really think they made the right choice?” 

You frowned into your empty sake cup; you could’ve sworn that it was full mere seconds ago, but only crisp white porcelain stared back at you. Touching your face, the heat of your cheeks was undeniable, evidence enough that you had in fact drained your drink in record time, and you took to fanning yourself with a flat palm. 

“Yeah, ‘course they did. You’re always doubting yourself, it’s getting kinda old now.” Your favourite co-worker and friend groused somewhat good naturedly, waving a dismissive hand at your continued self-doubt. She wasn’t wrong. 

Flattening your fingers over your cup, you tried and failed to dissuade her from pouring more sake from the carafe on the table. You sighed, resigned in the knowledge that a hangover was imminent tomorrow, just as another co-worker sat beside you with a friendly nudge aimed at your side. 

“You went for the promotion, and you got it. They’re not just gonna give it to someone if they don’t think they are capable so stop being such a worrywart.” 

You nodded slowly. They were right and if you were completely honest, despite your nature to overthink, you were on cloud nine about the news. Long had you wanted to progress your career, to start climbing the ranks and now you were finally getting somewhere after years of diligent hard work.  

It seemed trivial in the grand scheme of things; there would always be that lingering thought that you were so much less than those who called themselves shinobi of the Hidden Leaf, but someone had to do the boring shit, and one of them was you.  

Never had the world of the shinobi been your calling. It might have been in your blood; your own father having served as a jonin for many years but that wasn’t your calling and your parents were simply content in the knowledge that you were happy.  

Before you could find another reason to complain, a toast was raised in your name. The alcohol heating your cheeks only intensified by your embarrassment, but you looked to your friends with affection and downed your drink in a quick gulp after their cheering died down. 

The sake house was lively on this night, the sectioned rooms keeping the noise of the respective gatherings subdued but laughter and conversation could still be heard from the main hallway. Your own room, despite only housing the three of you, was raucous enough to contend with the others, lively chatter and moments of whooping laughter filled the air as well as your heart. 

Your head was growing fuzzy from the abundant booze, and it bolstered your confidence. 

“I honestly think that this is gonna be the event that sets my career in motion,” you enthused, hands gesturing wildly which only drew amused expressions in response. 

“Oh yeah? Records supervisor is hardly a high-ranking position. What exactly do you think is gonna happen other than you spending your days looking over ancient dusty ass files?” 

You stood with a wobble, reaching out your hand to steady yourself on the wall whilst your friends laughed. “You don’t know!” you slurred. “Hey, maybe I’ll make friends with some highfalutin officials, y’know, the ones who serve the Hokage directly or something wild like that.” 

Excited giggling broke out at that absurd idea, all of you knowing that the chances of that were slim and not simply because, why on earth would you be mixing with those type of people, but also because you were more likely to walk through the streets of Konoha buck naked than approach ‘one of them’. 

Perhaps it was foolish to set yourself apart from them, but it was so very hard when you grew up to revere those who protected your home. You had grown up swapping stories of the legendary shinobi and gushed endlessly over who you found to be the cutest. A game, nothing more, silly adolescent fantasies of being swept off your feet by a roguishly handsome shinobi who wouldn’t care that you were merely a civilian and you were reminded of those memories as your gaze sluggishly trailed around the slowly spinning room. 

“I’m calling it a night, got work in the morning and I don’t wanna be trashed on the first day in a new role,” you stated, trying your best to appear more sober than you were. Your friends whined and tried to persuade you to stay to no avail. Leaving them to the rest of the sake, you thanked the hostess and shoved your feet into your shoes. 

The night was cool and clear, the stars winking in the blackness of the sky, and you took a moment to admire them before setting off for home. It was quiet and you enjoyed the sense of peace, the warmth from your cheeks dissipating as a faint wind blew through the streets. 

Lost in thought, you began to hum a familiar tune; it was a habit of yours, and it wasn’t until you sensed another presence did you stop. 

Ahead of you there was a figure in the distance, hard to make out except to say they were male and their hair was exceptionally light. They were far enough away that you didn’t find it concerning, but you kept your eye on them as you continued your path towards home.  

They soon turned a corner to head in a different direction and the slight worry which had burrowed into your stomach melted away. Your peaceful humming restarted in earnest, picking your way through the streets unknowing that the man had stopped out of sight. 

He couldn’t see you, but he could hear you and he liked the sound of your voice. It brought him the first sense of peace in the longest time, and it was intriguing. 

To say that things were about to change, well, that was an understatement. 

[deliriously-donna]

Prologue

story summary: Kakashi Hatake, newly appointed Hokage, is bored. So when he takes to following an intriguing woman around the halls of Hokage tower, he knows that now is finally the time to act a little selfishly.

A new assignment leads you to the door of the Hokage’s office, a man who you had admired from a safe distance for years. What happens next finds you embroiled in a closely guarded secret which will change everything.

In a story where the past might be hard to let go, can two people thrown together find some semblance of love, happiness and peace?

You stood with a wobble, reaching out your hand to steady yourself on the wall whilst your friends laughed. “You don’t know!” you slurred. “Hey, maybe I’ll make friends with some highfalutin officials, y’know, the ones who serve the Hokage directly or something wild like that.” 

warnings: alcohol consumption, SFW and nothing else I don't think

Masterlist | Read on ao3 | Chapter One

“Remind me again why I agreed to this?” 

Kakashi’s index finger completed yet another circle around the rim of his sake cup, less than a few sips remained, but he couldn’t face them. The same could not be said for his current drinking partner. Lady Tsunade swayed dangerously, clutching the empty sake carafe to her ample chest like it was her treasured child. 

“…s’too late to change your—” 

There was a pause before she belched violently and continued, “mind.” 

The former Hokage laughed raucously, the carafe between her breasts slipping from her fingers to roll across the tatami mat. It came to a stop at the sliding door; the screen opened to reveal Shizune looking less than impressed. Her brow furrowed at the drunken antics of Lady Tsunade, and Kakashi braced himself for the ear bashing that was likely to begin any second, glad he wasn’t on the receiving end. 

“That’s it, you’re cut off!” Shizune fumed, dark bangs blowing out at the huff that pressed through her nose. 

The intoxicated Senju merely rolled her eyes; one blazingly red cheek pressed sloppily into her fist, sullen in the face of being scolded like a naughty child. Her blonde hair swung forward to obscure more of her features, for the best given the scowl that was etching itself on her face. 

Kakashi leaned back on his wrist to survey the situation with a soft sigh of amusement. He watched the two women bicker back and forth, not truly listening to the words, more noticing the subtle shift in body language which more than demonstrated the close bond the two had, and there was a strange sense of loss in his chest. 

He rubbed his palm over the spot that suddenly felt empty, a frown tugging his mouth down, but now was not the time to contemplate unravelling the mystery of his unsettled emotions. Clearing his throat sharply for attention, two sets of eyes cut to him, one far sharper and more focused than the other. 

“Perhaps I’ll ask you the question instead.” Kakashi gestured to Shizune with the sake cup still in his hand. “Why exactly did I agree to this, to become the next Hokage?” 

He hadn’t expected the almost apologetic smile that she offered, the softening of her features from riled to guilty so suddenly that he stiffened in response. For months now Kakashi had the sense that he had made a mistake, that this particular path was not one meant to be walked by him. Maybe it would be more fitting of another with the patience required of the position. This wasn’t his forte in life, surely? 

Spending every day putting his life on the line for his village, protecting the ones who he cared for most and nurturing the future generations of shinobi, that was his calling, what he knew best and now he was expected to… not do that? 

A life spent behind a desk stacked with reports, missions to be assigned rather than undertaken and decision-making at a level he considered to be far above his stance. 

It had felt like the next logical step, and it wasn’t the first time he had considered taking the position. There had been that brief time when the worst had been feared for Lady Tsunade survival, and Kakashi had been seconds away from filling the role, but thankfully it had not been necessary. 

The few he had trusted enough to discuss matters with before he had given his final answer had all agreed that he would be perfect for it, but it was hard to agree with them, and he inherently disliked doubting his abilities. It wasn’t something he was used to doing, nor did he wish it to become habitual. 

“Superiority complex?” chided Tsunade. 

Kakashi shrugged, returning his now empty cup to the table and looking toward the only sober person in the room. Shizune fidgeted, her eyes never seeming to meet his own, and that only piqued his curiosity further. 

“You didn’t think I would take the offer, did you?” he asked flatly. Shizune exhaled with her shoulders rolling back, finally maintaining more than a fleeting second of eye contact. 

“Honestly? No, I didn’t think you would agree. That’s not to say that I don’t believe you to be fitting of the role, far from it,” she added with a pointed finger. “It’s just… don’t take this the wrong way, but I never thought you’d willingly step back from active duty.” 

She wasn’t wrong. It was the main reason he had taken so long to deliberate.  

“I don’t think anyone can answer your question but you, Kakashi. I’ll see you through the transition, but I’ll remind you that my replacement is something that needs to be at the top of your priority list. You’re a capable man, but no man is an island, and relying on someone is not a weakness.” 

“No worries, I have a thought on who might be best to fill your spot, although if you wanted to stay on longer… I wouldn’t object,” he said with a closed eye smile, wondering just how exactly he was going to broach that subject with the person in mind. He could already tell it might be a hard sell, a lot of work for someone who did their very best to shirk as much responsibility as humanly possible. 

An uncomfortable silence fell over the trio. 

“I guess you’re right, Shizune. I’ll have to do some soul searching,” he agreed once the pressure to end the seeming stalemate overwhelmed him. 

Kakashi pushed to stand, but before he could take the few steps required to reach the sliding door, he was interrupted by a powerful palm which stilled against the very centre of his chest. It landed exactly where his scar intersected beneath the layers of his clothes. He hadn’t even noted her stand until she was directly before him. How worrying it was to realise that his reactions were either too sluggish or, more likely, that Lady Tsunade was simply that powerful he hadn’t tracked the movement. 

Tsunade appeared more lucid at this moment than she had all night, even prior to the copious amounts of sake she had imbibed. Brown eyes, dark and searing, held him in place. Gone was the intoxicated humour, the light which had danced in her eyes snuffed out and here was the serious Senju princess ready to face any foe before her. 

“We both know that even if it isn’t the entire reason, it is partly because you owe me. Isn’t that, right?” 

There was no need for a response, nor could he think of one quick enough. The weight of the former Hokage’s words hung around his neck like heavy steel. Kakashi inclined his head in acknowledgement and stepped past the two ladies without a backwards glance.  

The streets of Konoha were quiet, the velvet blanket of night resting over the village and bringing with it a sense of tranquillity. Too bad that he could not benefit from that peace; his thoughts were far too turbulent to be lulled into a false sense of comfort. 

His mind wandered to the forests surrounding Konoha, the parts owned by the Nara clan specifically, and the presence which called it home much like a ghost who called its haunting grounds home. 

“You’re right, Lady Tsunade. I owe you a great debt.” 

~ 

“Do you really think they made the right choice?” 

You frowned into your empty sake cup; you could’ve sworn that it was full mere seconds ago, but only crisp white porcelain stared back at you. Touching your face, the heat of your cheeks was undeniable, evidence enough that you had in fact drained your drink in record time, and you took to fanning yourself with a flat palm. 

“Yeah, ‘course they did. You’re always doubting yourself, it’s getting kinda old now.” Your favourite co-worker and friend groused somewhat good naturedly, waving a dismissive hand at your continued self-doubt. She wasn’t wrong. 

Flattening your fingers over your cup, you tried and failed to dissuade her from pouring more sake from the carafe on the table. You sighed, resigned in the knowledge that a hangover was imminent tomorrow, just as another co-worker sat beside you with a friendly nudge aimed at your side. 

“You went for the promotion, and you got it. They’re not just gonna give it to someone if they don’t think they are capable so stop being such a worrywart.” 

You nodded slowly. They were right and if you were completely honest, despite your nature to overthink, you were on cloud nine about the news. Long had you wanted to progress your career, to start climbing the ranks and now you were finally getting somewhere after years of diligent hard work.  

It seemed trivial in the grand scheme of things; there would always be that lingering thought that you were so much less than those who called themselves shinobi of the Hidden Leaf, but someone had to do the boring shit, and one of them was you.  

Never had the world of the shinobi been your calling. It might have been in your blood; your own father having served as a jonin for many years but that wasn’t your calling and your parents were simply content in the knowledge that you were happy.  

Before you could find another reason to complain, a toast was raised in your name. The alcohol heating your cheeks only intensified by your embarrassment, but you looked to your friends with affection and downed your drink in a quick gulp after their cheering died down. 

The sake house was lively on this night, the sectioned rooms keeping the noise of the respective gatherings subdued but laughter and conversation could still be heard from the main hallway. Your own room, despite only housing the three of you, was raucous enough to contend with the others, lively chatter and moments of whooping laughter filled the air as well as your heart. 

Your head was growing fuzzy from the abundant booze, and it bolstered your confidence. 

“I honestly think that this is gonna be the event that sets my career in motion,” you enthused, hands gesturing wildly which only drew amused expressions in response. 

“Oh yeah? Records supervisor is hardly a high-ranking position. What exactly do you think is gonna happen other than you spending your days looking over ancient dusty ass files?” 

You stood with a wobble, reaching out your hand to steady yourself on the wall whilst your friends laughed. “You don’t know!” you slurred. “Hey, maybe I’ll make friends with some highfalutin officials, y’know, the ones who serve the Hokage directly or something wild like that.” 

Excited giggling broke out at that absurd idea, all of you knowing that the chances of that were slim and not simply because, why on earth would you be mixing with those type of people, but also because you were more likely to walk through the streets of Konoha buck naked than approach ‘one of them’. 

Perhaps it was foolish to set yourself apart from them, but it was so very hard when you grew up to revere those who protected your home. You had grown up swapping stories of the legendary shinobi and gushed endlessly over who you found to be the cutest. A game, nothing more, silly adolescent fantasies of being swept off your feet by a roguishly handsome shinobi who wouldn’t care that you were merely a civilian and you were reminded of those memories as your gaze sluggishly trailed around the slowly spinning room. 

“I’m calling it a night, got work in the morning and I don’t wanna be trashed on the first day in a new role,” you stated, trying your best to appear more sober than you were. Your friends whined and tried to persuade you to stay to no avail. Leaving them to the rest of the sake, you thanked the hostess and shoved your feet into your shoes. 

The night was cool and clear, the stars winking in the blackness of the sky, and you took a moment to admire them before setting off for home. It was quiet and you enjoyed the sense of peace, the warmth from your cheeks dissipating as a faint wind blew through the streets. 

Lost in thought, you began to hum a familiar tune; it was a habit of yours, and it wasn’t until you sensed another presence did you stop. 

Ahead of you there was a figure in the distance, hard to make out except to say they were male and their hair was exceptionally light. They were far enough away that you didn’t find it concerning, but you kept your eye on them as you continued your path towards home.  

They soon turned a corner to head in a different direction and the slight worry which had burrowed into your stomach melted away. Your peaceful humming restarted in earnest, picking your way through the streets unknowing that the man had stopped out of sight. 

He couldn’t see you, but he could hear you and he liked the sound of your voice. It brought him the first sense of peace in the longest time, and it was intriguing. 

To say that things were about to change, well, that was an understatement. 

[strwbrrybxn]

°˖✧ F O R E V E R ✧˖°

⭑ pairing: nanami kento × female reader ⭑ word count: 13,970 ⭑ content warnings: mentions of abuse, ptsd, depression, anxiety, sexual content, mentions of selfharm, age gap by 8 years, loss of virginity, blood and injury, canon typical violence, alcohol, shibuya incident arc, major character death, sprinkles of slice of life, angst, nsfw, slow burn, mutual pining, established situationship ⭑a/n: this is a remake of my original work 'what's mine is yours to make your own' based off of the song 'look after you' by the fray. i chose to do this a little differently. it's a little playlist so each part gets a different song by different artists. i made it a situationship, but he's still her financial "glucose daddy". ⭑ synopsis: keeping you at arms length isn't enough anymore, but what can he do when he's built a lie around your entire relationship? how can he shape his life around you as easily as you have for him? ⭑ !! there will be NO trigger warnings unless it's ABSOLUTELY necessary. you have been warned. i'm not responsible for you ignoring this message. !!

“PRINCESS,” he sighs, “just pick one out.” he leans against the wall while he waits for you to finish trying on whatever you’re trying on. he didn’t even look when you went into the dressing room.

it’s his day off, and as much as he loves spending time with you, he’s exhausted and just wants to go home and sleep.

“b-but i don’t know which one to pick,” you huff from behind the thin door before grabbing one of the dresses you like the most and shoving it between the small crack you’d made. “here.” 

as soon as the dress makes it into nanami’s hands, you shut the door and lock it behind you. 

nanami isn’t sure what’s wrong, but he knows whatever it is, you don’t mean to take it out on him. you’ve done this before and, although you’ve never talked about it, you always find your way back. 

but what could it be? 

anxiety? maybe.

depression getting the best of you? possibly. 

you stopped going to therapy a few weeks ago, said it wasn’t doing anything to help. 

is it because he’s getting busier? 

the both of you have gone from spending almost every day together to barely seeing each other twice a week. and he’s noticed it makes you agitated when you do eventually see each other. 

he’s always treating you with the utmost respect and—

maybe that’s the problem. 

did you want something more? he’ll give you anything you ask for so if that’s all you want… why don’t you just ask?

kento’s used to showering you with gifts, but he’s never tried to move any further than that.

and he’d never admit to being jealous, but you’d huff and puff openly when someone would flirt with him. 

he hears you sniffle behind the door, the sound of you tugging on your clothes. you fling open the burgundy door, eyes wide when they land on the barely there smile and the store bag in his hand.

his head tilts to the side, obvious signs of concern flitting across his features. 

“what’s wrong?” you shrug, looking down at your hands. “you were crying.” you shake your head, following him out of the store. 

“thank you for this,” she whispers, fingers wrapping around the handles of the paper bag, but he wouldn’t let it go. “i can hold it.” 

“not until you tell me what’s wrong.” you frown, huffing. huffing at him. 

he does this all the time. 

maybe he still sees you as a measly college student whose life he saved. maybe he… only sees you as someone he’s responsible for; a child — a stray he picked up off the streets and provided food and shelter for until she’s ready to find her forever home. 

well, i already found it, so keep me. 

“it doesn’t matter what’s wrong,” you mutter finally. “you’re probably tired,  so you can just drop me off at home.” you try to keep your tone even, but it just comes out cracked and dry. 

kento peers down at you. didn’t you want to spend more time with him?

“we’re not going home until you eat.” 

sure, he’s being a little contradicting, and sure he wanted to leave in the store earlier, but food is the only way to coax any problems out of you and right now, he doesn’t care about how tired he is.

his free hand tangles with yours, just as it always does when you walk in the mall together, and he loves the reaction it causes. 

your cheeks darken and your pulse quickens. 

your stomach flips as if it were the first time.  

nanami kento is older; by about eight years, but due to the exhaustion coating his features, people think he’s well  over thirty when he’s just barely turned it. standing at over six feet, he towers over you — broad shoulders, calloused hands and toned muscles. you’re small, standing nearly a foot shorter than him — delicate features and a slim frame.

people often mistake you for eighteen, or a senior in high school when you’ve already graduated college. 

you always have to deal with the staring, the whispers behind your back. on good days, you’re able to ignore them but… today’s not a good day. 

“you don’t have to hold my hand.”

“i always hold your hand.”

“we-well, yeah, but— people are staring.”

“they usually do.”

meekly, you sigh. nanami tugs you into a small corridor, gently pressing your back to the concrete.

“what has gotten into you?” he asks, not unkindly. his blonde hair falls out of place on his forehead, eyes glances down at you behind his glasses. “something’s got you worked up.” 

“i-i don’t know what you mean.”

“just one of those days?” his voice is quiet, reserved just for you. he knows “those days” very well. 

“n-no, it’s not.” you don’t want it to be. 

he’s tired, you can see if all over his face — the bags under his eyes, his slumped shoulders. 

he doesn’t want to deal with this at the moment, and if you’re not going to answer, he really will just bring you home and go to bed… but he made himself a promise a long time ago that he wouldn’t leave you all alone to suffer in silence. not again.

he takes your hand again, quiet this time, and leads you to a restaurant. he’ll get you to talk somehow. 

— ♡ —

you let me know when you’re done.  i’ll pick you up.

another text unanswered. 

three days; six unanswered texts, four unanswered phone calls, but every time he shows up to your apartment, you’ll smile, invite him in for dinner and you’d talk as if you hadn’t been ignoring him.

he always assumed he was so easy to talk to, especially with you. you had opened up to him; slowly, but surely. you talked about almost everything with him, so why, why, why aren’t you answering him now?

were you in trouble again?

are you hurting? are you hurting yourself?

“—ami? nanamin? oi, sensei-” yuji’s voice cuts through kento’s thoughts, through his memories as his dark eyes focus on the student in front of him. 

“i’m not your sensei.”

the concern on the pinkette’s face slightly dissipates when he smiles. “is everything okay? is it about,” yuji looks around to make sure no one is around, “you know who?” ah, yes. as much as nanami has tried keeping you a secret from his colleagues, aka gojo specifically, and his student, it was nearly impossible. especially when said white-haired sorcerer had access to nanami’s phone when he wasn’t around. 

“she’s been…” nanami sighs, closing his eyes and leaning back in his chair. it’s no use to keep it from the high schooler. gojo would simply figure it out and tell him anyway. “she’s just been a little distant, is all. i’m just unsure of the problem.” 

the boy hums, sitting backwards in a chair. “do you think that maybe she wants something more than what you have together?”

“huh?”

“like maybe she wants… an actual relationship.” 

nanami hates to admit that maybe yuji is right… but wouldn’t you have told him that if that’s what you really want?

before the blonde can say anything else, gojo popped his head into the classroom and smiled. “i’m stealing yuji for a moment.” 

kento lets his mind wander for a moment, but not too long. his phone lights up brightly the moment a message is received. 

princess ♡ i’m finished. i’ll wait outside

“you’re awfully quiet,” you mutter, looking at the man from the corner of your eye. his grip on the steering wheel tightens and so does the feeling in your stomach. 

had you upset him?

“i didn’t forget so-something, right?” kento just shakes his head. “th-then, what is it?”

“you’ve been distant,” his voice is quiet, matter of fact. “i want to know why.”

you can’t deny it. you know you’re being avoidant. you’d open every message of his, let every phone call ring until it had gone to voicemail, but when he stands in front of you, the concern in his eyes, all you can do is smile. 

god, it makes your head spin. 

you shrug, because you don’t know what else to do. 

“do you want to get dinner?” velvety smooth. you nod, and he turns down the road towards your favorite ramen spot. it’s down the street from your apartment, a little hole in the wall. 

“i don’t deserve the way you treat me,” you whisper finally, stirring your soup.

he knew getting food in your system would help and now that you’re eating, he’s feeling a little less anxious than he was earlier. 

“why do you think that?” 

patient. he has to be patient.

“because,” you eat slowly, contemplating. “i don’t deem myself as someone who’s deserving of the kindness you’re so willing to give.” 

nanami takes a moment to lean on the table; elbow on the wood, chin in his palm. he resembles gojo for a moment.

he takes the time to admire the woman in front of him — admiring the way you curl in on yourself when you’re in public and the way you take your time to eat. he admires the way your nose scrunches when you slurp in the noodle too fast, causing the soup to launch onto your face; admires when you look at him - timid and patient - waiting for an answer. 

“you deserve much more than you’ll ever give yourself credit for.” his hand finds yours across the table and you willingly accept it into your palm. he squeezes your hand gently. “i want you to start therapy again.” 

you want to say no; that it doesn’t help, but his words are laced with worry and you’ve only ever heard it a few times in the five years you’ve known one another. 

“okay.”

you poke his cheek, giggling quietly. with a tilt of your head, your pointed nail strikes his soft skin again. 

kento smiles his signature tired smile. 

“i was talking to you.” you pout, trying to stop yourself from smiling. 

“what did you say?”

“i was asking what you wanted for dinner. it’s my turn to cook.” he hums, taking a moment to think about it as he wraps his arm around the back of the couch and fingers brushing your shoulder. 

“let’s just order delivery. you look cozy right now.” 

he loves when you wear his - rarely ever worn - hoodies. you look so cozy in them, but also, you look like you’re swimming in them. 

“sounds even better.” you lean back in the cushions, turning to drape your legs over nanami’s lap, phone out to order the food.

it’s rare when he has a moment to look around your apartment, to admire the decoration. the way you’ve made this place your own; your home. 

there’s three photos on the wall, framed and designed in an upward staired pattern. at the bottom of the frame is the names of who’s inside and dates of when it was taken. 

the lowest one is a photo of you and yuji smiling at the camera, gojo hiding in the background with a peace sign in the air. the middle photo is of you and gojo making goofy faces, and the last is of you and nanami. you’re pressed into his side, face smushed against his pec.

the last photo was taken a few months ago, and it was one of kento’s favorite days. 

your eyes zero in on what he’s looking at and you feel yourself smile. 

“your smile is always so nice to look at,” you whisper. you shift your position, sitting beside him now and resting your head on his shoulder. “i think that was the first time i met yuji.” 

you always thought he was a little odd for having two extra eye creases beneath his own, but you never mentioned it. eventually you got used to it. 

“i think so too.” 

you’re so beautiful. from the day he met you to this very moment, kento has never stopped admiring how gorgeous you are.

you get up from your spot beside him, going back into the kitchen as you ask, “do you want to stay the night?” kento turns towards you, watching you walk away. “i still have your extra clothes from last time, and i know it’s not raining or anything, but you’re been working so hard lately and—” 

“i’d like that.” 

he’s not going to deny himself this. not this time. 

he’s allowed one selfish moment once in a while, right?

— ♡

blood. there’s so much blood. the sound of it in your ears. your lungs are burning. you can swear you hear your name being called, but it could just be from the sudden blow to your head.  fuck, what is that ringing sound? your unfocused eyes flit across the room, fingers shaking as you lift your hand and hit something solid.  when did the ground move? was that a wall? where am i? “—’ere, i’m here. i have to move you.” who is that? “hey, look at me. focus on me.”  the sudden movement of your legs elicit a gurgled, choked cry. it’s a sound he never wants to hear again.  a murmured apology fills your ears, but he refuses to put you down.  your eyes barely focus, hazy as your mind makes out the outline of the man in front of you.  kento.  you sputter, the blood that had pooled in your throat and mouth, spilling down the sides as you mutter an apology. vignette frames your vision as you zero in on the crimson stained blue button down.  “yo-your shirt… i-i’m so-hic-rry,” you cough and see the way his eyebrows crease. don’t cry.  “satoru! satoru, get in here—” 

you gasp loudly, choking on your own saliva as liquid trickles down your forehead. you touch your head, pulling your hand back to find only sweat. the sweat that’s sticking your body to the sheets. you try to swallow as many breaths as you can. your hearing is flooded, the blood pounding inside your ears so loudly that you barely hear the sound of your bedroom door hitting the wall. your eyes frantically search the room, blonde tufts coming into view and dark eyes searching yours. 

he takes your hand silently, sitting on the edge of the bed. he doesn’t say anything for several minutes; he doesn’t know what to say, so he just holds your trembling hand as you cry. 

kento won’t mention the fact that he woke up prior to you screaming from his own nightmare, his hands shaking and stomach churning. he won’t mention how he woke up and still saw your blood drenching his hands and chest. he won’t mention how severely lightheaded he was in the hospital — to the point gojo had to hold him upright so he could breathe. 

“i was just making some tea, let me get you some.” neither of you move. not until you crawl into his lap and he lifts you into his arms. “i even got you this really cute mug i think you’d like.” 

his voice is always so nice. 

you nestle your face into his shoulder, eyes closing once more as you finally feel safe again.

you’re not sure when it happened, but suddenly, he’s sitting you on the counter while he moves to heat the kettle. 

neither of you mention the lie he told about making the tea. 

he hands you a mug, your fingers warm and you bring it to your face to feel the steam on your skin.

“pandas…” you whisper, the black and white animal painted perfectly on the mug in your hands. 

“i had a dream,” he starts, “that you owned a bunch of dogs. so many, you didn’t even know what to do with all of them.” 

you giggle quietly, leaning your head against his chest. his heart’s racing against his ribs, but he feels so calm, so safe. 

he’ll lose sleep every night if it means getting to hold you. 

kento🩵 meet me at home, i need your assistance.

you frown at the message on your screen, double checking to make sure you didn’t imagine it.

you knock on kento’s door once more. 

“kento? i’m here.” a loud thud comes from the other side and you quickly grip the handle to try and pry it open. “kento? let me—” the door flies open, a gaunt and bloodied nanami stands in front of you, towel over his hip and sweat making his blonde strands stick to his forehead. 

all you can do is gently push your way into the apartment and lock the door behind you. 

“what happened?” your eyes water quickly and you’re cursing yourself for being so in love with this man that even the smallest scrape would make you cry. don’t cry.

his fingers graze over your cheekbones, moving up to your forehead and thumbing over the crease between your eyebrows. 

“i’m okay. it’s okay. i just— i need you to stitch it. it’s in too awkward of a place for me to do it on my own.”

“i- i- we should take you to the hospital.” you sniffle, and kento slips his free arm around your shoulders. you pout, hands pressing against his chest to try to push him away. you fail though. he’s too strong. “i’m gonna hurt you.” 

“you’re not. just stitch it for me first, and we’ll go later.” you take a deep, shaky breath before nodding once. kento releases you, showing you the way to his bathroom, using his grip on your shoulder to steady himself. 

you’re quick to grab the first aid kit sitting on the toilet.

“how did you hurt yourself?” your voice is barely above a whisper and he hates himself for it. he’s panicking internally and he’s trying to calm his breathing as you pull the towel and gauze back from his skin.

you don’t know the extent of what he does for a living. you just know he used to work in finances and now he teaches in tokyo. he has irregular hours because of yuji needing extra help. 

he can’t — he won’t — tell you how a curse with stitches across his body had tried to morph the shape of his very soul. 

you won’t understand, and quite frankly, he doesn’t want you to. 

you have been through far too much anguish in your life; you don’t need to know the horrors human emotions can create. 

“it’s not important.” 

“it is!” you shout, your voice cracking and eyes widening as you stare at the gash on his hips. “it’s important to me.” you’re quieter this time and it causes nanami to frown, sighing deeply as his hand finds your hip. 

“i’ll tell you another time, okay? when things make more sense.”

“promise?” 

kento doesn’t make promises — especially ones he can’t keep — but this time… this time he has to. 

he has to if it means easing your mind even a little bit. he has to if it means it’ll keep the tears from falling down your cheeks more times than they already have. 

“i promise.”

“wa-wait, it won’t fit.” you’re startled, looking up at the snow haired man. he nods, smirking. “it’s too much.”

“sure it will. you just have to shove it.” gojo’s eyes curve into little crescents before taking the bits of meat from your hands and putting them between the pieces of bread. 

just as you suspect, the bread doesn’t last very long and splits open right as gojo is about to eat it.

“don’t eat it, you’ll have a heart attack.” you squeak, smacking the long limb as he quickly shovels the pieces of fallen food into his mouth. you puff your cheeks out, leaning against the back of kento’s chair, amused as gojo insists on not wasting anything. 

“so,” the tall man hums, mouth full of sandwich. his hand presses to the top of nanami’s desk as he swallows and leans over. “have you guys had sex yet?”

“gojo!” your cheeks tingle as you cover your red face from his inspecting gaze. he laughs heartily, plopping down in his own chair. “you can’t just ask that.”

“but i did.” a teasing lilt in his voice as he smiles. 

“no.”

“why not?” you peak through your fingers, eyes meeting the black blindfold. “shy?”

“n-no.”

“then what?”

ugh, how do you tell kento’s senior that you don’t know what you’d be doing even if the offer was on the table. 

you’re still a virgin. 

but… this man does know kento better than anyone else. they grew up together and fought alongside each other — they teach yuji together. would it be so wrong to ask? 

and maybe if you’re able to learn what kento likes, the offer can be placed gently on the table in front of the blonde. 

“idontknowwhatimdoing.”

“come again?” gojo, being the absolute menace he is, is completely amused by the woman in front of him. he exposes one of his eyes from underneath the blindfold.

you sigh, “i don’t know what i’m doing.” you drop your hands into your lap. “i don’t even know if he feels that way towards me, you know? i–” you pout, looking around before back into the cerulean orb. “i just don’t know.” your voice is quiet now.

satoru gently takes your wrist, thumb brushing over the scars with a soft smile. 

“i can tell you that it’s possible for something like this to happen.” 

“something like what is going to happen?”

the little squeal falling from your lips has gojo’s head falling back in a loud laugh as he drops your arm. nanami quirks an eyebrow, watching the scene in front of him.

his heart sinks to his stomach, but he can’t figure out why. he knows gojo doesn’t feel that way towards you, but what if you feel that way towards him? 

the taller man walks towards the blonde, hand squeezing nanami’s shoulder before leaning forward and whispering something into his ear; something that had nanami’s eyes widening and his cheeks tinting pink. “i think she's ready to learn from you, sensei.”

nanami holds out his hand for you once you’re out of sight from the lurking students, and satoru. 

taking it happily, your stomach flips and churns with the newly acquired flusterings gojo loves to stir up. 

“so, what were you talking about?” you bite back a little frustrated whine. 

“nothing. it was nothing–” you say it quickly, shaking your head. 

“hm, didn’t seem like nothing.”

“it was. nothing. nada. nothing at all.” you keep your head down and the little hum of acknowledgement lets you know that he’s dropping the subject. you both walk down the hall in silence for a few minutes, listening to the loud shouts of teenagers being allowed out for the weekend. 

“kento?” you hum, swinging your hands together as you get closer to the restaurant nanami has  reservations for. 

“hm?” his pace slows down, a small smile presses against his lips as he watches your hands in the air. 

“my coworker texted me earlier and invited me to her party tomorrow night—” 

oh no. 

“and i was wondering if you’d like to come with me?” 

wait, what?

his eyebrows furrow as he looks at you. you must have caught it because you pout and give his hand a squeeze. “well, because, i don’t know anyone. i don’t- i don’t really have any friends, except for you, gojo, and yuji, and she said i could bring anyone if it would make me more comfortable, because I guess she really wants me to be there, and I guess she also realized I don’t–I guess everyone’s noticed, an–”

“we’ll come. i’ll bring gojo and yuji as well.” 

there’s no way in hell you’re going to this party by yourself. not where there’s people who can take advantage of you — not where he can’t physically take care of you.

“i’ll have satoru ask if fushiguro and kugisaki will come as well.”

“i’d like that. i can’t wait to meet them.” you bounce happily as you stand in front of the restaurant. the white haired man always speaks about his students, he loves them, but because kento worked so closely with yuji, he was the only one you have met so far. 

you glance up at kento, confused as to why he isn’t walking inside. he said the reservation is at 7, right? 

“have you ever been to a party?” he asks suddenly, eyes still on the door of the bustling restaurant. 

“n-no. i haven’t really even tried alcohol before.” nanami peers down at you.

he’s known you since you were legally allowed to drink, but he’s never seen you consume it. he just assumed you’d tried it at least once in celebration. 

“why?”

“i just never found it appealing.”

“then why do you want to go to this party?”

you pout again, pulling him to the side so other patrons can enter. the flush of your cheeks and the way you curl into yourself is the only answer he needs. he can feel the same envious emotion creep up his spine; the way it did when he saw his senior holding your hand.

because she likes someone who’s going to be there.

i mean, she has every right to. she doesn’t belong to me. i can’t stop her from having crushes on people, especially when i’ve made it clear in the beginning that this was strictly monetary. 

…

but why can’t it be me?

foolish, foolish man. 

giving your hand a small squeeze, kento walks you further down the sidewalk. 

“where are we going?”

“i’m taking you to your first bar.” he smiles down at you, a smile you rarely get to see. 

“but… the reservation.”

“it’s okay. i can switch it for another night.”

“na— kento.” you appreciate it, but you want to say no. tell him we can go back. 

that is until he turns back with a soft look in his eyes that only makes you melt. a look that’s only been reserved for you. 

“okay. if you’re sure.” 

hopefully you’re able to stay lucid enough to keep quiet about the crush you have on him.

— ♡

you feel utterly ridiculous when you walk into the bar with nanami right behind you. you tug your skirt further down your legs to avoid any unwanted glances and wait for the man to step in front of you so you can use his body as a shield like you usually do. 

too many people. 

too many pairs of eyes on you in such an enclosed space. you sit on a stool beside kento, who in turn, tugs the stool closer to him. 

while he’s looking over the menu, you take a moment to admire him; the blonde tufts of hair, the beige suit that clings to his body, the way his body leans into your space. 

you appreciate everything he does for you — taking you to the hospital when you ran away from home, sending you money for transportation when he’s not able to pick you up, paying the hospital bills, purchasing an apartment for you, the list goes on and on. he’s always made sure you were comfortable and safe. 

the aura that radiates off of him is immediate and calm, and you have no other choice than to fall in love with the older man. 

one of his hands rests on top of yours on the bartop while the other holds your knee. his eyes are focused on you. 

a room filled with a plethora of gorgeous women and he’s only looking at me. 

“please try it.” he slides the glass towards you and you can’t help but pout when his hand lets go of yours. 

“what is it?” 

“it’s called a yuzushu.” you tilt your head to the side; a trait that reminds him of a puppy. “it’s sake, sugar, and some citrus. i think you’ll like it.” 

taking a sip, the lemon causes your nose to scrunch up but it’s otherwise enjoyable. 

“better than i thought it’d be,” you admit. 

four and a half glasses in, and nanami is regretting ever suggesting this in the first place. he should have known you’d be a lightweight. you press your face into his bicep, a smile across your lips. 

“nami~” you hiccup, eyes glossy. “one more please.~” kento can only shake his head, gulping discreetly at the way your chest is pressed into his side completely. “pl-hic-ease.” batting your eyelashes, you try your best to convince the man to buy you one more drink, but he just pays the bill and stands up. “where-hic- we going?” 

“home.”

“my home, or- or your home?” you giggle, eyebrows wiggling suggestively as he walks you out of the bar, arm around your shoulders. 

“my home, but your suggestive little tone isn’t going to work on me,” he whispers in your ear before straightening his back and taking in the sight of your flushed cheeks and pursed lips.

“c-can you drive? you drank a lot too.”

“i’m fine,” love. “i’m fine.” you let him sit you in the car and adjust your seatbelt. he slips into the driver’s side, carefully driving you back to his apartment. 

getting you up the stairs without carrying you proves to be much harder than expected. if you weren’t wearing a skirt, he’d have you on his back in a second, but there’s the risk of someone seeing your panties and he’s in too much of a possessive mindset to have that happen right now. 

your legs wobble.

if he picks you up bridal style, he has a little more leeway but the same thing could happen. 

in a swift movement, he slings his jacket around your waist and lifts you onto his back, trudging up the stairs into the apartment. he doesn’t bother taking off your shoes, nor his, shuffling into the bathroom and sitting you on the counter. he stands between your thighs, using the makeup remover wipes he keeps in the cabinet to take off your makeup and your extra toothbrush to clean the taste of alcohol, and vomit from your mouth. 

he’ll have to get his car detailed. 

he changes you into one of his shirts, and boxers, your bright eyes never leaving his face. 

“yo-you’re so hamsome,” you whisper, your hands pressed against his chest before you plop in a seated position on the cushioned mattress. “gotsucha nice smile. when you do smile. ‘s pretty.”

“thank you.”

“i wuddn’ mind if you were ma first—” your hands travel down his chest, stopping just above his waistband, eyes wide and doe-like, peering up at him through your lashes. 

“first?” his eyebrow quirk towards his hairline. “first what?”

“sssssexual partner.” you giggle, eyes appearing as crescents and back hitting the comforter. nanami feels his body go rigid, eyes widening. “woah.”

“you’re… a virgin?” he can hear his heart beating in his ears. 

or was that his blood rushing from his face.

you pout, “is that a bad thing?”

“no. no, it’s not a bad thing.”

“s not that i never wanted to— jus’ never got the chance, ‘n ‘s not like i never touched myself before.” your cheeks turn a crimson red as you look away from him before getting an idea. “maybe you could teach me! satoruuuuu said dat if you felt dat way twards me, i should ask.”

if kento thought his heartbeat was erratic before, he’s sure as hell positive it’s about to burst from his ribcage. 

no. it shouldn’t even be an option. there’s no way.

but look at how she’s looking at me. her eyes are so big, and innocent. 

NO.

but satoru said. 

you wait patiently for an answer, your eyes glossed over as you watch the way his facial expression changes.

“please,” you whisper now. 

“if you can remember this conversation in the morning.” the blonde is barely able to choke out. he clears his throat and tugs on his tie, pulling it off. 

satisfied with his answer, you situate yourself on the bed, face in the pillow.

“g’night, k’nny.” 

he smiles, stepping to the door after grabbing his change of clothes. he quietly shuts the door, leaving just a crack open. his heart melts at the sound of your light snores and the sight of you sleeping. 

“goodnight, my dear.”

— ♡

FUCK, my head. 

whining, you roll over and burrow yourself into the blankets more, the mixed scent of kento’s shampoo and cologne filling your nostrils and bringing back a nearly forgotten conversation.

“you’re… a virgin?” you pout, “is that a bad thing?” “no. no, it’s not a bad thing.” “s not that i never wanted to— jus’ never got the chance, ‘n ‘s not like i never touched myself before. maybe you could teach me!”

“oh my god!”

“what did he do?” kento’s standing in the doorway, arms folded across his visibly bare chest, shirt and tie hanging from his broad shoulders, and toothbrush in hand. 

your cheeks are burning in the most beautiful way; the way kento loves to make them, and he can’t help the sly smirk from growing on his lips. 

you had seen him shirtless dozens of times, but couple that with remembering your drunken behavior and him now realizing what you’re remembering with his stupidly attractive body out in the open. it’s a disaster waiting to happen, so you hide under the blankets. 

“button up your shirt.”

“you’ve seen me like this before—”

“that’s different!”

“what’s different about this time?” you hear him cross the room, feel the bed dip in his weight as his fingers reach to curl around the blanket’s edge. “where’s the confident girl from last night?

“she doesn’t live here anymore. i’m not responsible for her actions. i don’t know her.” 

all you hear is a deep chuckle before his fingertips disappear. he’s quiet a moment before, “my shirt is buttoned.”

“i think i’ll still be under here, thank you.”

“but what if i want to look at you?”

“you have pictures.” you’re distracted by the conversation and loosen your grip on the blanket. kento takes the opportunity to tug it back quickly, making you squeal and cover your face with your hands. 

“is seeing my face such a bad thing?”

“after what i said last night, yes it is.”

“i thought you weren’t responsible for her.” 

“h-hey— i mean, y-yeah, you’re right.”

his touch is soft. fingers wrapping around your wrists, removing your hands from your face. 

“there she is.” he smiles softly. “what you said last night wasn’t that bad.”

“wasn’t that bad? i propositioned for you to-to-to-”

“take your virginity.” like it was nothing abnormal. as if you were talking about what you had for dinner. he says it so matter of factly. 

“don’t say it out loud.” you groan, scrunching your nose up.

“are you saying you don’t want that now that you’re sober?” 

you pout. no, that’s not what you’re saying, but it’s still embarrassing to hear it aloud. 

you were so worried about spilling your crush on him that you didn’t even think to keep the secret of being a virgin to yourself.  

“i’m so embarrassed-” 

“it’s not embarrassing to ask for something like that.”

“no?” he shakes his head.

“i would prefer it be me than someone you barely know.” and no one else at all, but now’s not the time nor place. 

“I would prefer it to be only you…” you whisper, gripping the comforter between your fingers.

his lips tug at the corners, a smile threatening to spread across his cheeks. “we can talk about that after you’ve had breakfast, okay?” he can’t think about that now. he thought about it all morning while you were asleep and he’s already taken three showers. 

you agree to breakfast, climbing off the bed and moving to stand in front of him as he stands as well. your head’s still tilted downwards, but before he can reach to lift it, your arms slip around his middle and you hug him to your body. 

it’s been far too long since he’s had one of your hugs. 

“thank you, nami.” you whisper and feel his own arms tighten around your back, fingers brushing through the ends of your hair. you give him a big squeeze before letting go. 

“i’ll make us some pancakes.” scampering off to the kitchen, you leave a flustered kento to finish brushing his teeth and attend to his… needs. 

when he finally walks into the kitchen, you’re whistling softly, pancake batter on the griddle and a plate of the finished ones to the side. he leans against the countertop, arms crossed as he watches you finish the last two pancakes.

“all done.” you hum, smiling brightly at him. 

his fingers twitch to grip your hip and pull you closer.

but he doesn’t. 

for a second, he’s unsure of how to act around you.

does he kiss you? 

should he pull you close?

should he act like you’re dating?

do you want him to?

“nami?”

“hm?”

you’re standing closer to him now; so close, you can hear the hitch in his breath. 

“should we go on a date tonight?”

“a date?”

“yeah.” you’re fiddling with the hem of the shirt he dressed you in last night. it falls just below mid-thigh. “i mean– shouldn’t we do that—?”

“i think you’re jumping ahead, love. we’re supposed to be talking about it over breakfast.” he leans close, his arm snaking around your waist. you can feel your breath catch in your throat, his hand splaying across the small of your back while the other reaches to grab the finished plate of pancakes. his palm purposefully drags along your waist before slipping away and he turns to leave, walking towards the table while you involuntarily let out a whine. the pitter patter of your feet behind him makes him laugh.

once you’re finally situated at the table, awkward glances and clearing of throats out of the way, kento’s able to relax. 

“i thought we had a party to go to tonight?”

“oh.” you sound disappointed. “yeah, i forgot.” you’re picking at the pancakes as you mutter. “i just want it to be us tonight, and not worry about sweaty bodies around us… or trying to get on top of you.”

he lets out an amused hum, having heard you but choosing to let it slide. his hand slides onto your thigh once he’s set his fork down. 

“how about we spend the day together?”

“like we usually do?”

“well… yeah, but it’s different this time.” you tilt your head to the side curiously. “you’re my,” he can’t say girlfriend yet. you’re not. partner sounds too formal.

“girl.” your cheeks are painted pink once more. “i’m your girl.”

“my girl.”

— ♡

nothing changed, really. kento still pays for everything, still holds your hand, and still calls you princess, but there’s something different about everything. the emotions, the tone of voice, the actions hold so much more than before — and you’re starting to wonder how much he was holding back prior to last night. 

kento smiles brighter when he looks down at you, clad in one of the few hoodies he owns. it falls mid-thigh, the sleeves cover your hands — “they’re sweater paws” you said earlier — and the hood covers just above your eye level. you look cozy.

“you’re the only woman i know who would complain about how cold it is before walking into an ice cream shop.” 

“ice cream is an all year treat and the winter is just impatiently creeping up on us, kento.”

“i’m sure, love.”

love. your stomach flips every time he says it. 

princess has always been his go-to. you don’t know why. he let it slip once and you’ve just never brought it to his attention. eventually, he just started saying it more confidently. 

you’ve come from such a broken home that you never even knew pet names were a thing until you met nanami. 

you’d grown up in fear of men — younger, older, it didn’t matter. you spent a large portion of your high school years attempting to get over it, attempting to date, but when your mother found out, she’d hit you so hard in the ribs that you ended up just throwing yourself into your studies and you nearly stopped interacting with anyone and everyone who didn’t live in your household. 

when you met kento though, you couldn’t stop your heart from racing as you pushed past him. you barely remembered anything about him, but his eyes. he looked so… tired. but he had such kind eyes — the kindest you had ever seen, despite the dark circles underneath them. the more you came in contact with him after that day, the more you’d notice his eyes softening, and when he found you on the road that night, you remember sobbing when he took you to the medical building his friend worked at. you sobbed and blubbered about how he was the nicest man you had ever met, and the woman just let you until you felt better; until you felt okay enough to stand up and walk out of the room. 

you had never met such nice people before.

“i was able to switch those reservations, love.” 

“oh! for when?”

“tonight.” he gives your hand a squeeze. “let’s go on a date tonight.”

“a date,” you whisper, butterflies swirling around in your stomach. 

— ♡

nanami kento is the definition of a perfect gentleman. between the respect he treats others with, the empathy he holds in his heart for those around him, and the manners his mother raised him with, it would - understandably - make any woman fall for him. 

he pulled your chair out when you got to the table, poured you wine, and even fed you some of the food off his own plate. he paid for everything, despite your protests, and even bought you cupcakes from your favorite bakery that’s always open late. 

honestly, how can this date get any better?

well, it can, and it’s about to. 

his fingers slip between yours as you walk through the park, the fairy lights decorating the park and the lake beside it. the moon tangoes with them, adding to the shimmering lights. 

“thank you for tonight, kento.”

nanami smiles, stopping on the bridge and pulling you closer to his chest. it’s a beautifully crisp night out, you’re dressed in a tight dress, your natural waves framing your face and his blazer slung over your shoulders. 

he reaches up, careful as he always is with you, and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

you’ve never flinched in his presence and he’s grateful for it. 

“have i told you how beautiful you look?” your cheeks flush, your eyes glance down at your bodies pressed together. 

“y-yes, but you can never say it too much.” 

kento’s large hand cups your jaw as he dips his head down, brushing your noses together.

“you’re so beautiful,” he breathes, thumbing over your cheekbone.

“kento—” his breath fans over your lips. 

“hm?” 

his eyes flit down to your lips before jumping back to your eyes, smiling when he realizes they’re already closed. he watches through his own heavy lids as you lean forward, pursing your lips before he closes the distance. he smiles as you let a squeak slip, your palm pressing to his hardened chest. the kiss is soft, light, both of you just enjoying the other. 

kento’s lips are as soft as you’d imagined them; and yours are even sweeter than he thought. your head tilts to the side, tongue swiping across his bottom lip. he parts them, letting your tongue pass as his own tangles with it. your small fingers grip the hairs at the nape of his neck as he pulls away, chasing after his lips with a quiet whine.

“what was that?” his words are breathless. 

“take me home,” you whisper, eyes trained on his own. “please.”

— ♡ — cw: nsfw

as soon as you hear the click behind you, you have nanami’s back pinned against the heavy wooden door, barely giving him time to lock it. your palms press firmly against his muscular chest, his breath fanning over your lips. 

“k-kento,” you whisper, dainty fingers fumbling to tug off his tie and unbutton his shirt.

there’s an urgency in your movements; a feverish need to get him out of every article of clothing he has on. you don’t care where the clothes land; in his bedroom, in the living room, it doesn’t matter. your nails scrape along his bare chest, a low growl rumbling in his throat as he breathes out your name. his glasses are thrown somewhere in the couch direction. 

his dark eyes scan your features, clouded with lust and longing dripping from every word. “kiss me, princess.” 

your hand pulls his head down, molding your lips together fervently. his hands are gripping your hips, walking you backwards. kento shrugs the jacket draped over your shoulders off and onto the tiled kitchen floor as he backs you into the wall. his broad body cages you in, strong arms pressed on either side of your head as his tongue glides across your lips before being allowed to explore every crevice with a need to memorize your very taste.

his calloused hands push your hips back against the wall, his lungs burning for oxygen he doesn’t think he needs right now, but he reluctantly pulls away. his large fingers drag the zipper of your dress down your spine, hooking his fingers around the straps and sliding it down your body, letting it pool at your ankles. 

you’d be shying right about now if your head weren’t spinning. kento’s hungry eyes trail over your small frame, breath catching as he catches sight of the lingerie set he had bought you months ago. the lace hugs your curves perfectly.

you look up at him with those pretty doe eyes he loves so much before you start chewing on your swollen lower lip. you’re starting to feel self conscious the longer he takes to look at you, but as you start to cover yourself up, kento clears his throat and gently pins your hands to the wall.

“it looks beautiful on you,” he whispers, letting go of your wrist to trace over the blue mesh bralette. he cups your breast, thumbing over your nipple. “you are so beautiful.” his lips attach to your shoulder, your head tilting back to make room for him. your fingers tangle into his blonde locks. your free hand dances along his torso, nimble fingers gripping his belt. 

kento groans, his slacks becoming all too tight the moment your fingers move to unbuckle his belt. he scoops you up, grip too tight on your thighs as he takes long strides towards the bedroom, sucking large and heavy marks into your neck and shoulders. 

he’s allowed to be selfish now, right? you’re his now, right? 

nanami isn’t a possessive man. he never was. he’s never been; not with his partners before, but every time he looks at you, he just wants to mark every inch of you; make it known that you belong to him and only him, and now he’s allowed to.

you’re allowing him to touch you, to mark you, to kiss you. you’re allowing him to claim you as his and his alone. 

dropping you onto his bed, kento tugs off his belt, unbuttoning his slacks and letting them fall to his ankles.

he’s crawling to hover over you, his smile so loving that it takes your breath away. 

you’re distracted by his hair falling in every direction from your fingers running through it, the crease in his eyebrows as he drinks in the very sight of you, the loving look he has when your eyes finally meet again. 

he cups your jaw, allowing you to lean into his touch. 

“i d-don’t know what to do..”

the blonde kisses your forehead. “don’t worry. i’ll help you every step of the way.” his fingers dance around your back, unhooking your bra. 

god, how much more beautiful can you be?

kento’s lips trail down the slope of your shoulder, laying you down as his hand kneads at your breast. 

small mewls spill from your lips already, only egging him to go further. he sucks on a patch of skin underneath your ear, small gasps and the arching of your back allows his forefinger and thumb to pinch at your nipple while his free hand holds your hip in place. 

“does it feel good, baby?”

“yes,” you murmur, breathlessly. 

“tell me where you like to touch yourself,” he’s whispering into your ear before wrapping his lips around your neglected bud, teeth grazing it. 

you try not to think about how, and why, nanami is so good at this — at finding all the right spots, all the places you like to be touched; how you like to be touched.

nanami’s thinking about how he could just cum from the sounds spilling from your lips. you sound so pretty, so whiny, so needy. needy for him.

it’s so much better than he’s imagined. 

your fingers hook around his wrist, leading his hand between your legs. 

he doesn’t push you to say anything more. he knows you’re nervous, shy. 

his fingertip traces the skin of your inner thighs, tracing the lace of your panties before he tears the gusset, assuring you he’ll just have to buy you another. his fingers find your clit, rolling it as he pulls his lips back and blows cold air against your chest. 

“na-nami-” you whine, squeezing your breasts together as you peer down at him. “don’t tease me, please.” 

he smirks, watching your facial expression mold into pure bliss when he presses his middle finger between your pussy lips. you push your hips down, trying to gain any kind of friction, the wetness soaking his digits. 

“so impatient, princess.” 

you pout at him, eyes glossy from the sheer satisfaction you’re gaining from his fingers. you squirm when his finger glides into your tight pussy, plush walls sucking him in as he drags the calloused digit in and out at a torturously slow pace. 

 “k-ken!” your nails drag down his chest as he curls his finger. your back arches, his palm moving against your clit.

“sound so pretty for me,” he whispers against your neck, inserting another finger and working their way in and out of your walls.

“f-faster, please. g-gonna cum–”

“already? i’ve barely started.” 

“please.” he grants your breathless pleas, watching your chest rise and fall quickly as you come undone beneath him. 

your vision goes white as his fingers slow to help you come down. his forehead presses against yours, breathing in the very air leaving your lungs. his fingers sticky with your cum as he brings them between his lips, licking them clean as you whine and writhe impatiently beneath him. 

“do you want to keep going, princess?” you nod and he’s quick to look at you. “say it.”

“yes.” your cheeks are flushed already. “please.”

nanami sits up on his knees between your legs, reaching over and tugging open the bedside table drawer, pulling out a condom. 

he rids himself of his briefs before ripping open the golden wrapper. you’re trying not to stare but it’s hard to look away when it’s so big. you watch as his fingers roll the condom onto the mushroom head before finding it’s way along the shaft. 

he’s long, girthy, and you’re suddenly terrified it’s going to hurt. 

your arms stretch out, spreading your legs wider. he sits himself between your thighs once more, hovering over you. his tip presses against your entrance, lips molded to your forehead as he pushes himself inside your dripping heat. 

you’re so much tighter than he anticipates though, and you’re already squeezing around him. 

“relax for me,” he whispers. 

“‘m trying. s’too big.” curses mix with pained whimpers as you squeeze your eyes shut. his fingers grip your jaw firmly, kissing your lips to distract you as he pushes himself in fully. your nails find his back, dragging red lines along the flesh. 

“doing okay?” his lips are barely broken from yours as he asks. 

you sniffle. “why‘re you so big?” you’re not used to being stretched this much, nor were you expecting it. even with his fingers, you’re not prepared. his chuckle turns into a throaty groan from you clenching around him, almost trying to push him out. 

tears grow in your eyes as you scrunch your nose up. “out, out. take it out. it hurts.” but despite your pleas, your heels dig into his lower back, holding him in place. 

“baby, i can’t take it out when you’re squeezing me so tightly.” he tries to suppress his chuckle. he feels bad because he knew it would hurt you, but seeing the tears in your eyes is making his head spin. he wants to make you feel so good, they spill down your cheeks.

“okay, okay,” you breathe, looking up at him completely now. “don’t take it out. i think — i think you can move now.” 

“just keep trying to relax for me,” he whispers. your head falls back, nodding as you close your eyes and will yourself to calm down. 

you have to relax. this is what you wanted. it won’t hurt once he moves. he won’t let it.

he feels your legs loosen around his waist, the shaky breath leaving your lips as he’s finally able to bottom out. 

“you’re so—fucking tight.” he grits his teeth, keeping himself steady while you busy your lips on his collarbone. your heels push against his back once more, silently asking him to move now. his thrusts are slow to start off with, the moans leaving your lips are more of pleasure than pain. it’s much better now. 

your nails drag down his back, surely breaking the skin as he picks up the pace when you start to clamp down around his cock. your walls spasm around him and he reaches between your bodies to press his palm against your lower abdomen. 

“wa-wait—” you gasp, arching your back and rolling your eyes. he smirks as you gush around him, the pressure feeling all too good as his tip kisses your cervix.

“fee—ling,” he groans from the squelching sounds filling the room, “better now— princess?” he’s gritting his teeth. he can feel the knot growing in his stomach. 

you’re nodding, begging for him to go faster, but, “if i go any faster- i’m going to cum.” he lets out a breath as your fingers tangle into his blonde locks, tugging at them and smiling at the moan falling from his lips. 

his hips move a particular angle as his hand moves from your abdomen to the back of your thigh, stretching you open. tears spill down your cheeks and his hips sputter. 

you look so pretty, so perfect in this moment and the knot snaps in his stomach suddenly. his hips thrust shallowly as he fills the condom with his cum, but that doesn’t stop him from moving; deeper, slower. and it doesn’t keep him from admiring the way your cheeks are flushed and your hair is splayed out in every direction on his pillow. sweat is dripping down your forehead, chest heaving with every pant, moan and whine he’s pulling from your lips. 

his hips move with purpose, eliciting another orgasm from you before he stops. he could go all night if you’d allow it, but you’re smiling up at him tiredly, cheeks tear stained and body covered in hickies. 

you pull him down for a kiss, kento melting into you as his lips find their place with yours. 

he’s careful when he pulls out, taking in the quiet whine from your lips with a kiss. he grabs some tissues, helping clean you before lying on his back and tugging you onto his chest. your smaller frame drapes itself across his chest, his fingers smoothing out across your spine. his head flops onto the pillow, arm coming up to lay across his eyes, breathing roughly. 

you lay in silence for a few moments, neither of you wanting to break the fragile bubble you put yourselves in, but your mind isn’t too kind with allowing you to stay quiet for long. 

“is it weird?” you ask, head pressed to his bare chest and index finger tracing the crease of his collarbone. 

“is what weird?”

“taking the virginity of someone you’re not dating?”

his fingers tangle into your hair. “is it weird for you?”

“i asked you first.” 

he smiles as you look up at him, your chin making contact with his chest before meeting his eyes. you know he’s waiting for you to answer first, and you can’t help but huff playfully. 

“only weird because we’re not dating… but it feels like we’ve been dating for years now, you know?” 

“i guess i’ve had feelings for you for so long that it doesn’t feel strange to me.” 

“for how long?” 

he should’ve seen this question coming. he looks away from you, frowning slightly. 

“since i’ve met you,” he whispers. 

“why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“how do i tell you i have feelings for you when i made such a big deal about this being solely for your financial benefit?”

“with words.” your eyes trail over his face, a content sigh leaving your lips. “i’ve loved you for years.”

“years?”

“well i knew i liked you the second you took me out for ice cream in the middle of november—”

“i just wanted to see you smile.”

“and the moment i knew i loved you was when you came over to celebrate my raise at the cafe.”

he chuckles, kissing your forehead softly. “i love seeing you smile. i don’t think you understand. you’re beautiful and your eyes turn into little crescents, the dimples that invade your cheeks. i just,” he breathes softly, “i just love you, and want you to have the best life you can possibly have.”

“that’s why i have you, kento,” you whisper slowly.

“you truly believe that?” 

after being met with silence, kento’s tilts his head to the side. you’ve nestled yourself against his chest, breath evening out. 

“goodnight, sweetheart.”

waking up beside the love of your life is truly the most amazing feeling.

but waking up to the love of your life sucking you off? even better.

kento groans as he stirs awake, feeling nails rake down his thighs. his fingers reach out, tangling into your hair as he moans out your name. you hum happily around his cock, the tip hitting the back of your throat as you swallow. 

the string of curses couples with his rough morning voice, making you whine and press your thighs together. he pulls the comforter back, your eyes glancing up at his face. a lazy smile tugs at nanami’s cheeks as his fingers hold your head down. he bucks up into the heat of your mouth, your eyes rolling back. 

he could get used to that look on your face.

his eyes are heavy, moaning every time your head dips down and your nose hits his pubic bone. your tongue glides along the base of his cock, eyes watery as you look up at him almost innocently. 

“darling, if you look at me like that–” his head falls back against his pillow. “shit, i’m gonna cum.” his hips thrust up once more as he tugs your head off his cock before shooting out ropes of white across your mouth and cheeks, some landing on his stomach as well. 

licking your lips, you blush darkly, leaning into his touch to avoid his gaze. “so-sorry, i just… saw somewhere that some guys like to be woken up like that ‘nd i wanted to try it–”

he can’t help himself, chuckling quietly at your shy demeanor still covered in his cum. he grabs a tissue off the nightstand, wiping down the rest of your face and his stomach. 

“it’s okay. it felt good. you felt good.” you beam up at your love, rubbing your cheek against his palm when he moves to cup your face.

“i did good?”

“you did so good for me,” he speaks quietly, gently pulling you to straddle his hips as he sits up. his arms wrap around your waist, kissing your forehead. “and you took me so well last night.” you squeal quietly, hiding your face in his neck. playfully, he pats the round of your ass. “are you sore?”

“a little.” 

“i’ll run us a bath then.” 

you curl into his chest as he stands and makes his way into the bathroom. setting you on the counter, you turn to look in the mirror and are met with dozens, if not more, dark bites and hickeys littering your neck, collarbone and chest. you peer down at your legs, seeing the same marks on them and your stomach. 

“i got a little carried away.” you glance at nanami in the mirror, he’s awkwardly scratching his neck, trying not to stare at the marks he left. 

“i like them.” the man’s cheeks darken and he leans down and kisses your temple. 

“good. because i won’t stop leaving them.”

your fingers brush through the growing undercut, smiling softly. 

“do you still have bath bombs?” 

“i do.” he reaches over into a cabinet beside your head and pulls out the crate you had left behind. you hand him your favorite one and watch as he drops it in, the water changing to galaxy and the scent of lavender filling the air. 

when he’s finally satisfied with the temperature, he lifts you off the counter before sitting in the tub with your back to his chest, between his legs. 

bathing with someone had always been so intimate to kento. and him being the first for you makes this particular bath all the more special for the both of you. 

nanami had never felt the urge to do something like this with any other partner — only ever suggested showers. he never thought he’d ever want to get this intimate, but with you, it just came so naturally, so easily; shampooing your hair, washing over your body, kissing every inch of newly cleaned skin with the desire to dirty it once more. to brush through the knots in your hair once it’s dried and to dress you in comfortable clothes for the upcoming day or for bed. intimacy like this was never something he thought he needed. 

but there are things kento can admit to being wrong about. 

this type of love - this gentle, sweet belonging fills a hole he had tried to bury so long ago. it fills the space he had originally poured concrete into and tried to plant grass.

but only weeds grew between the cracks over the years. and nothing was helping them die. 

useless weeds that he didn’t know how to get rid of. 

it wasn’t until kento held your hand for the first time that he realized you had been replacing the concrete with dirt. flowers bloomed instead of weeds and he realized the water he had been using just eroded him.

you came in, changed his whole life around, added the extra ingredients. you added life to his flowers. you filled his home, his heart, his life with such variety that now he fears how to breathe without it. 

because you’re the color in his black and white world.

how can he live without you?

“MR. 7:3 sorcerer! it’s nice to see you again,” mahito grins from behind nanami’s back. he tries to ignore it, tries to avoid any confrontation — tries to avoid anything that draws attention to what he really did for work. 

“kento,” you whisper, tugging at his sleeve. “what’s a sorcerer?” you don’t mean to eavesdrop on the conversation, but it sounds intriguing. “is it those movies you showed me the other day? witches or something?”

“oh, is this the reason you don’t enjoy overtime?” the curse jumps in front of the couple. “you have a girlfriend?” he squeals. your eyes widen, glancing up at nanami as you tighten your grip on his arm. 

“i thought… you were a teacher.”

“oh, she doesn’t know what you do for real?” mahito gets close; too close. his face is mere centimeters from yours. “he kills people like me for a living, dear. with that blade of his that he keeps tucked behind his back.” he raises a stitched arm, pressing his palm to your stomach. “what do you think comes first; the body or the soul?”

“i don’t— i’m not—” nanami turns to move, but the hand on his stomach stops him. 

“it’s the soul. the body forms around the soul. wanna see what i can do with your soul?” a sharp pain shoots through your body, searing and hot. you’re doubling over, clutching your ribs when you hear a familiar voice. 

“nanamin!” yuji waves his hand excitedly until he catches sight of the pale curse covered in stitches. 

“itadori yuji!” he shouts, unaware that nanami had shoved his hand behind his back and up his jacket, tugging the blade out. mahito cackles, throwing a small deformed toy into the air before disappearing. the transfigured human stretches in size, leaning forward to grab at you but yuji’s faster, lifting you in the air. the human pleads to be set free, to be killed. it begs nanami over and over again. 

and then it’s over, and you’re stifling sobs, eyes blown wide as blood splatters across your cheeks. the creature lays in pieces on the ground. yuji’s arms tighten around your smaller frame, your palm pressing against your mouth to muffle the sound. 

“wh-wh-wh-wh-at was that?” nanami and gojo spin around, the blood still dripping from his covered blunt instrument. you look up at yuji, sniffling to get his attention. “yu-yuji.”

“i’m sorry you had to see that,” he whispers, eyes soft and pink hair falling over his eyebrows. 

“what was it?” you’re firm this time, pulling away from the high school student. nanami steps closer to you, but he freezes when you take a step back. “th-th-that was a person. a person!” 

“it was no longer human.”

“it cried! it spoke, and it cried, and you-you-” 

“i had to. if i didn’t, it could have hurt you.” kento’s chest tightens when your back hits a wall. you’re trying so hard to get away from the three of them; to get away from him. 

he speaks your name quietly. “please.”

you shake your head, spinning around to take the last few steps away but yuji gentle grasps your shoulder to stop you. “don’t leave. please talk to us.” but you tug your arm from his grip, sniffling. 

“i want to go home.” you stalk off towards your own apartment, stomach churning as you replay all of the night's events. 

nanami’s harnessing his blade, the back of his head resting against the brick building. 

“it’ll be okay, nanamin. she just needs time.”

“i didn’t want her to find out about this… i wasn’t even 100% sure she could see them.”

gojo clears his throat just then, pushing off the wall. “she’s been near death more than three times, nanami. it was only a matter of time.”

“three times?!” yuji shouts before he looks around and steps closer to his senseis. “she’s been nearly dead three times?”

“more than three times!” gojo corrects enthusiastically with four fingers in the air. kento just sighs, standing up straight. 

“her parents were at fault for the first three times, and a car accident was for the last time. it’s why she doesn’t like to drive.”

“her parents? how?” yuji watches his teacher incredulously, frowning and crossing his arms. 

the blonde sighs once more before opening his mouth, “that’s not my story to tell.”

— ♡

you sniffle, a bloodied towel tossed onto the floor. nanami stands in the doorway, leaning on the frame as he watches you stitch the cut on your hip. 

“what did he do to me?” 

“it’s called transfiguration. he manipulates the body’s soul, changing it’s shape, and—”

“turning me into that thing you killed.”

“yeah,” he breathes. he stands straighter as you turn around. your stitching has gotten better from the looks of it.

“why didn’t it work on me?” 

“this isn’t the first time i’ve seen his technique up close. i used as much of my energy as i could to protect your soul, but it could only do so much. i’m not sure why the cut isn’t worse.”

“he’s done this to you before?” you step forward, clean hand pressing to his abdomen, right where his scar sits. “this was him?”

“that was him.” 

you grip the blue fabric that keeps your safety net, your safety blanket; your person covered. the color grounds you, the scent radiating off of it was that of flowers and baked goods. blue, beige, and the scent of bread — nanami kento was more than just a man who saved your life.

nanami kento is your home. 

“IS that the last of the boxes?” kento asks as he breaths out a sigh. his back is aching, but there’s still a faint smile on his face.

you nod as you start to unpack the box labeled ‘mug obsessed’ (in kento’s handwriting). 

because it was just kento living in his apartment, he only had two of everything. you, on the other hand, could not control yourself when it came to cute anything. 

your mug collection will drive him crazy. 

but he doesn’t mind if he ends up being the one to wash them. 

he unboxes the ‘living room’ box and smiles at the framed photos he had taken from your wall to add to his. 

“oh, don’t forget this one!” you stride into the living room, holding a frame you had kept in your bedroom. he recognizes the frame almost immediately. it’s the one that always sat on your bedside table, encompassing the photo of the two of you smiling, a beautiful bouquet in your arms — gifted by gojo which nanami was surprisingly happy about. a dinner party you hosted at nanami’s your now shared home.

“love,” kento starts, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you into his lap. “how about we go to dinner tonight before i have to leave for my next assignment?”

admittedly, as much as kento hated that you knew exactly what his job was now, he’s more than relieved he doesn’t have to lie to you anymore. 

it took days for you to forgive him for that night — a lot of flowers, home cooked meals, and constant reassurance, but you never asked him why he did it, you only smiled one morning, three weeks ago, and told him to be safe coming home. 

“a date, you say?” you melt into his chest, relaxing after the long trek of boxes.

“a date. a proper one.”

“kenny, we’ve been on many proper dates.”

“just say yes. i still have so much time to make up for.”

— ♡

kento had never been a man who could speak his emotions correctly. he’s just never been able to.

he’s very blunt, yes, very straightforward, but emotionally? he’s a wreck most of the time. 

he’s just good at hiding it. 

there’s so many words swirling inside his head as he looks at you lying in his arms. 

tonight is, by far, one of the best nights of his life; making you smile, making you laugh — he even managed to get a snort or two out from you. he wants to tell you how much he loves you, how much he can’t wait to be finished with this assignment so that he can retire and whisk you away. 

before you came into his life, he had a plan that only involved himself. he’d move somewhere comfortable, open a bakery and live out the rest of his life happily alone. but ever since you came - literally - crashing into his life, nanami continuously thinks about how he’ll fit you into this plan. 

“tell me what your big plan is?” you whisper, startling him. he thought you’d fallen asleep. you smile when you look at him, taking in the questioning look in his eyes. “your plan for retirement. you had mentioned it earlier.” 

“i’m hoping it happens after this assignment, actually.” you snuggle back into your spot, humming softly to let him know you’re still listening. “open a bakery in a quiet place. maybe a suburb. maybe another country.” 

“a different country? have you traveled a lot?” 

“i have.” his fingers brush through the naturally colored hair that had grown in throughout the year. he remembers telling you he loved it not too long after the roots started showing. he never realized you had taken the comment to heart until he noticed the bleached ends were gone. 

“what was your favorite place?”

“malaysia,” he answers without hesitation. 

“we should go there, then,” you whisper, settling your ear against his bare chest. 

we.

“i mean, if you want. i can only hope not to be left behind—”

“never.”

“then allow me to wiggle my way into them.”

“you’ve already started before you even knew.” he smiles, his fingers gliding along your spine. “you’re okay with them?”you nod, the feeling of his fingers on your bare back leaves goosebumps along your skin. “you don’t have anywhere you want to explore?”

“wherever you are is where i want to be.” 

it’s not just a future he can hope for; it’s a future he can look forward to. 

‼️MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH. YOU’VE BEEN WARNED. some dialogue switches between anime and manga depending on which fit more. ‼️

somewhere in malaysia. 

you said to take you there, so he must. 

he feels the sand beneath his shoes, crunching as you’re taking pictures and videos of him and the water and the sky all while laughing and smiling. he’s smiling. it makes his face hurt. 

it’s hot here. 

suddenly, he’s walking too slow. his body feels heavy, feet sluggishly stepping down the hall. 

he wants to go home.

half of his body hurts from being set on fire. he’s lost an eye. 

he’s not sure where his shirt has gone. 

you loved that particular shade of blue. he’ll have to buy another to make up for it. surely you’ll forgive him for that. you’ll run into his arms and he’ll tell you he loves you. he’ll retire.

there’s a figure in the photobooth he passes. probably a frightened patron so he pays them no mind. 

the stairs are so long. 

he’s staring ahead at the beach before he takes the last step off the stairs, his lone eye scanning the room. 

so many disfigured humans. 

fwoo. “malaysia,” he says, head tilting up to stare at the fluorescent lights. “yeah, malaysia. taking her to kuantan would be nice. i’ll build us a home on a secluded beach. i already have a mountain of books i’ve bought and never touched. go through them page by page… kinda like taking back the time i’ve lost.”

he takes a deep breath. 

no, right now he’s heading over to save fushiguro and maki. what about naobito? what happened to those two?

the sun touches the water perfectly. you’re standing in front of him, camera to your eye. 

“i’m tired. exhausted even. yeah, i’m exhausted.” 

he wants to go home. 

i’ve done enough, haven’t i?

the waves crash over his feet, soaking his shoes and socks. 

the blade flies through the air, slicing through all the transfigured humans. 

he’s kneeling in the water, handkerchief in his hand as he wets it with the seawater. he doesn’t care that his pants are wet. 

with every groan, every swing of his blade, he’s closer to seeing you. 

he gets hit by a figure, pushed towards the middle of the room.

the wind is rustling his hair and you’re telling him you want to dance with him. 

he stabs it, slicing it before being slapped by another and it sends him flying and down onto one of his knees. 

the same knee he proposed to you on. 

his burnt arm rests on the tile, holding him up as he tries to breathe. 

he’s bleeding. out of breath. 

he gets hit once more, groaning as he steadies himself. 

his eyes closed, water dripping down his face. 

it’s his nose that’s bleeding. he cries out, angry now because you’re going to worry when you see him bandaged up. 

he’s dancing with you on the sand, in the water.  

he wants to go home with every swing of his blade.

it clatters to the ground and he’s rushing to grab it, swiping at a few more before he stops. head falling towards the ground, he’s standing with his eyes closed. defeated. 

tap. a hand to his back.

“you’re here?” 

“i’ve been here. the whole time.” he hears yuji’s footsteps. “wanna chat for a bit? we’ve got history, after all.”

haibara, what the hell was i even hoping to accomplish in the end? i ran. i ran away, and yet i came back over some vague reason like finding the work worthwhile.

haibara is standing in front of him, but kento knows he’s not there. 

this isn’t him. haibara is dead. 

but he’s glad to see his old friend. 

i can’t. that’s wrong. i can’t, haibara. i can’t say that. it’ll just become a curse upon him. 

“nanamin-” yuji’s coming closer, ragged and worn from his own battles. his voice is shaky. 

haibara points to his student, and nanami’s eyes widen before his resolve breaks. 

i shouldn’t.

he smiles. i sh— 

his face falls and his eyebrows furrow before he finally opens his mouth. “itadori.”

kento turns his head to look at yuji once more. 

he wants to go home. 

but he knows he won’t make it there. 

“you’ve got it from here.”

a smile before his upper half bubbles and yuji is left to watch as his lower half falls to the ground. 

“wha– what the hell—” his fists clench as he screams, “what the hell are you, mahito?”

mahito’s saying something, but all yuji sees is red. 

— ♡

it’s a dream. it has to be.

this is a nightmare. 

it feels like you were hit by a train and then run over by the same train, repeatedly.

i can’t breathe. let me breathe. 

i can’t breathe. he’s not here.

kento, please.

your mouth is dry, you need some water. he’s always bringing you bottles of water even when you don’t ask for them.

you open your mouth, ready to call out for him.

but you just close your lips.

your eyes are glazed over as you stare, mind running rampant as you wait for him to walk through the heavy front door, and complain about how he needs to change it. 

but he never will. 

how long has it been? you’ve been curled up on the couch for who knows how long. 

weeks? 

you glance at the calendar. 

it’s only been two days. it feels like years. 

yuji takes a step through the hallway. he’s been keeping an eye on you. he has a bottle of water in his hand, sitting down beside you and laying it in your lap carefully. 

nanami taught him well. 

“i do-don’t wa-want to go.” you sniffle, rubbing your already red and puffy eyes. 

yuji hasn’t even taken a look around the apartment, just keeps his eyes on the carpet. too many memories of kento on the walls, in closets; in the air. 

nanami is everywhere.

pure, unadulterated heartache of someone who had their whole entire world turned upside down, you’re sobbing, gripping your stomach.

yuji’s fingers card through your hair. 

you’re not sure how long it takes for you to calm down this time, but the sun is shining through the opened curtains. 

when did they open? 

you take a moment, staring at the open curtains. you’re too hopeful that he would have come back in somehow, someway. 

you find yourself in the shower, blinking slowly. you don’t recognize the hands washing you, but they’re yours. maybe because kento always washes you in the showers or baths you’ve taken together.

you grab one of his ties, squeezing the fabric in your hands before stepping closer to the pinkette and wrapping it around his neck. it was the only colorful piece of clothing he’ll be wearing. 

“thank you..” the crack in his voice is breaking your heart and you can’t bear to look up at him. you just tap his chest before nodding and finding your way to the door. 

kento doesn’t have any other family so it’s just you and yuji holding a small ceremony for him. all are welcomed to celebrate him. 

the blade is placed in front of the urn. it’s clean, stain free, and still wrapped in the black and white dotted fabric.

“it’s the only thing we could find.” your fingers tremble as you trace over the fabric. 

you hope to see gojo, but you know you won’t. 

you’re standing in front of his urn, taking the quiet opportunity to speak with him one last time. there’s a photo of him next to the metal casing. gifts upon gifts — some of them useless and insignificant; keychains, trinkets. nanami isn’t wasn’t a materialistic person. 

you sniffle as your fingers trace the photos decorated on the table. a photo of him and haibara in high school, gojo and kento standing at the barbecue during their school baseball game, kento and yuji smiling like father and son after he mastered the black flash. in almost every photo was nanami’s signature closed mouth smile, except for one. it’s you and him standing in your living room. you’re laughing at something he said and he’s grinning like an idiot in love. 

your fingers trace the intricate designs of the urn. 

“nanami kento, i am so mad at you,” you whisper. “how could you just go and leave me? you promised to stay… to protect me…” your hand clamps over your trembling lips. “you didn’t even give me a chance to tell you how much i love you when you asked me to marry you.” you squat down in front of the metal casing. 

“but i love you too much to hate you for the rest of my life,” you whisper.

waves crash along the shore line. the smell of the saltwater, the sun beating down on the lonesome beach. 

kuantan. 

you feel the sand beneath your shoes, crunching as you’re walking along the horizon.

it’s hot here.

you’re staring at the beach, the sun touches the water perfectly. you wish you were standing in front of him, camera to your eye. 

the waves crash over your feet, soaking your shoes and socks. 

you’re kneeling in the water, handkerchief in hand as you wet it with seawater. you don’t care that your dress is wet. 

the wind is rustling through your hair and you wish you could tell him you want to dance with him.

the water splashes against your face, dripping down onto your shoulders. 

you can picture him dancing with you on the sand, in the water. 

in front of the little hut. 

turning around, your fingers reach for the urn in yuji’s hands. you step into the water, inch by inch until you’re knee deep in the salty sea. 

your fingers grasp a handful of his ashes. the forceful breeze rips them from your palm and you’re finally able to watch him dance.  

“welcome home, kento.”

©️ strwbrrybxn 2026

[strwbrrybxn]

*: .｡. pick me, choose me .｡.:*

⭑ pairing: neji hyuga × female reader ⭑ word count: 3996 ⭑ genre: nsfw, angst ⭑ warnings: beefy neji, mentions of cheating, riding, post break up(?) sex, blinding orgasm, unprotected sex, best friends to lovers to ex friends. neji aged up to 22, slight manipulation(?), warning signs of abuse at the end ⭑ au: roommate!au ⭑ prompt: “all he ever did was use you.” ⭑ author’s note: images at the end of how beefy neji is

tears spill down your cheeks as you push open the door to your shared apartment. all you want to do is crawl into bed and cry some more, thankful that tomorrow is saturday and you have nothing to do, but your dreams are crushed when you see your roommate’s shoes sitting neatly beside the door. 

fuck. you forgot to do your chores before leaving for your boyfriend’s and as much as you love your childhood friend-turned-roommate, the thought of him nagging you just makes the tears fall faster. 

“oi— you forgot—” neji’s eyes widen at the sight in front of him. he takes in your appearance, cheeks and nose pink and wet, hiccups being forced down. he steps closer to you, watching as you make yourself smaller and try to turn away from him. “what happened?”

neji has never been good at comforting people. he just doesn’t see the point in holding someone until they stop crying and telling them everything is gonna be okay. they already know that, they just need to cry it out. plus, why would he want his shirt all wet from tears? 

but when it comes to you? neji will risk wetness to every shirt he owns and hold you until you feel consoled. he’ll do anything to see you smile, because he hates seeing you like this. it makes every shrewd word he could say die on his tongue. 

“it’s stupid,” you hiccupped, reaching up to wipe the tears off the apples of your cheeks. 

“it’s not stupid.” 

“it is. i just want to go to bed.” 

it’s not that you don’t want to talk to him. you do, but you’re just so tired. you shrug off your shoes, dropping your bag haphazardly beside them and make your way towards the bedroom, shutting the door behind you quietly. 

neji stands in the living room for a moment, cleaning up your shoes and putting your bag on the hook before going to the kitchen. he knows you haven’t eaten, your piece of shit boyfriend never knows how to take care of you properly and he’s probably the reason you’re so upset right now. all he ever does is make you cry and neji has hated him the entirety of your year long relationship because of it. 

he works his magic to make the simple ramen you like to eat and probably the only thing you can stomach right now. he brings two water bottles and knocks before opening the door. he’d be here all night if he waited for you to answer him. 

“neji—” you whisper, your bedroom dark with the blinds closed. 

“i’m only here to feed you.” he watches as you sit up on your bed, eyes puffy and tissue box discarded to the side. he pulls your desk chair out, taking a seat and setting the food on the desk top. “the rice is almost done.” 

humming gratefully, you bring one of the water bottles to rest under your eyes. 

“those are for consumption, not swollen relief.” 

“i’ll consume them once the swelling goes down.” the smile crossing your face is small, but worth it. he doesn't push you to talk about it, content with just watching you eat and drink the water. he listens to you talking about your classes and what you may need his help with. your head falls forward, reaching neji’s shoulder with a small stretch, your breathing even and calm indicating you’d fallen asleep. normally, he’d push the person away from him, but not you.  

“all he’s ever done was use you. i hope you can see that,” he sighs, kissing your head and laying you down in your bed. 

you’re neji’s exception to every rule.

only a week has passed before neji walks in on you and your boyfriend arguing in your bedroom. he heard it from outside the apartment and it only gets louder as he steps into the living room. 

“fuck you!”

“me? i’m not the one screwing my roommate behind your back!” neji flinches at the loud smack that spills into the room. the door swings open, hitting the wall and your red-cheeked boyfriend rushes out, growling when he makes eye contact with neji. he pushes past him, shoulder bumping the hyuga and grumbling something neji can’t quite pick up on and neji doesn’t get to complain that he dragged his dirty shoes into the house. 

he hears your quiet plea summoning him over and he can’t stop himself from cupping your cheeks when his feet bring him in front of you. you lean into his touch, closing your eyes and nuzzling your cheek against his palm. neji has always been your safe space, your sounding board; your lighthouse in the dark. your boyfriend has always been jealous of that. 

“are you okay?” he whispers, and you shake your head. you don’t trust your voice. “how about i make us some dinner and we can watch some movies tonight?” he doesn’t want to leave your side, or have you out of his sight so he brings you to the couch, sitting you down before making his way into the kitchen to get started. he’s positive you haven’t eaten anything again except the empty bowl of cereal that’s sitting in the sink. 

with every cut of the vegetables, neji looks up to check on you, to make sure you’re okay, or at least not completely breaking down, and every time, he catches you already looking at him. your cheeks are flushed and he doesn’t know whether it’s from the crying or if you’re flustered from being caught, but you avert your gaze and it makes his stomach flip. 

the final time he looks over, you’re gone and he panics a little. he’s about to put the ladle down and go look for you when your arms snake around his middle and said ladle clatters to the floor with a startled squeak leaving his lips. 

but he forgets all about the pounding in his chest when he hears the pretty giggle he loves escape your throat. 

“sorry, i didn’t mean to startle you. i wanted to see if you needed help but you looked a little out of it.”

it’s a good night, neji thinks. a good night and he gets to feed you as much as you let him. there’s a fleeting moment, when you’re looking at him before the movie starts that he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he should tell you how he feels; how he’s been hiding away these feelings since the two of you were barely middle-schoolers, but then you bite your lip and turn away from him, eyes focused on the screen, that he realizes today shouldn’t be that day. 

so for another week, neji keeps his feelings to himself, just like he always has, but you’re around more. you’re in the apartment on the days you usually go to your boyfriend’s, your phone is left alone for longer than usual, you’re clinging to him more, and neji thinks that maybe, the two of you are done for good this time. and he can finally tell you how much he loves and cherishes you, about how he wants to protect you and make you happy. 

you’re sitting in the kitchen, the bridge of your nose pinched between your fingers as you nurse the headache caused by another fight. neji’s hand brushes along your back as he steps inside, and you welcome the feeling of it. his fingers card through your hair and you relax as your head falls into his shoulder. 

“helping?” you hum. he doesn’t need a verbal answer from you. “are we watching another movie tonight?”

“if that’s okay. we didn’t finish it the other day.” you also don’t need verbal answers from neji. you’ve learned his body language after years of friendship. he’s turned close to you, meaning he wants to spend more time with you. he doesn’t care what the two of you are doing, he’s just happy you’re around. 

he helps you off the barstool, bringing you to the couch. he’s turning the movie on but your eyes are focused on him. his arm wraps your shoulders, and you smile. 

before he can even open his mouth to speak, you’re pressing your lips to his jaw, his cheek and his lips when he turns to look down at you. 

his heart pounds inside his ribcage, and his pulse quickens. it takes him a moment to reciprocate, his hand cupping the back of your neck and before he knows it, your tongue darts inside his mouth. he can’t help the moan from slipping and you’re moving to climb into his lap. his mind is so hazy and he’s slowly losing control of the situation, and the guard he built up to keep you from noticing.

you take his free hand, placing it on your hip, letting him decide whether to move it higher or lower. 

you know this is probably not a smart thing to do. it’s only been a week and the two of you are still arguing that you don’t even know if you’re actually broken up or not, but neji’s been there every day, and it’s making it harder for you to not realize your feelings for him are still there. 

you’re trying to erase the picture of your ex-boyfriend from your mind with neji’s grunts from your hips grinding down and the feeling of his (much larger than you thought) cock growing harder beneath is definitely helping. you’re flabbergasted when you slip the hair tie from his hair and he doesn’t grab your wrist to stop you, or when you tug off the headband that covers the mark on his forehead. he doesn’t even stop you when you unbutton his shirt. you think he’d maybe push you off, tell you it’s wrong and you’re not in the right mindset to be doing think, you’re not thinking clearly, and maybe you’re not, but the logical part of neji’s brain isn’t working at the moment. your hand is caressing the taut muscles of his stomach, tracing every dip and curve of his abs, even the v-line that sinks lower below his waistband. he’s melting underneath your palms and you’re getting drunk on the control you’re gaining. 

“neji,” you whisper against his lips, making him whine. he doesn’t want to stop kissing you. “neji, let me touch you more.” his hands slide along your thighs, up your sides and finally cupping your cheeks. 

“are you sure about this?” your cheek is nuzzling against his palm as you nod, mhmm. “you gotta say it,” he whispers and you tilt your head to look into his eyes.

“yes, i’m sure about this.” that’s all he needed; to know you weren’t pushing yourself into this. 

“you have to climb off my lap so i can take my pants off.” he kisses your forehead, helping you shimmy yourself off his lap and onto his feet. you tug your own shirt off over your head and neji fumbles with his pants, his briefs sliding down his thighs and allowing the tip of his cock to spring free. your fingers are hooked into the elastic of your leggings, but the sight of his cock twitch has you faltering. neji tugs them off completely, and you almost fall to your knees as he grabs the base of his cock, his chest rising and falling rapidly. 

one of his large hands wrap your hip and tugs you closer, smirking as he hooks his own fingers into the waistband of your pants. “since you’re so enthralled by me, i’ll take these off for you.”

you can’t stop the way your cheeks burn at the observation. you are enthralled by neji, always have been, and how can you not be? everything about him is beautiful. even now, he’s leaning back against the couch, your pants in one hand and his cock in the other, looking like some kind of masterpiece. he’s waiting for you, completely naked, pupils blown with lust and hunger. 

so you drop to your knees, your fingers grazing over his knuckles and carefully prying his erection from his hand. “relax, jiji,” you whisper, but how can he when your tongue is dragging along the length of his shaft, wrapping your lips around the tip of his cock. he can barely stop the moan slipping from his lips and his fingers tangling into your hair. 

you’d only heard neji moan twice, each time with someone he brought home when he thought you were out or asleep, but even then, they never sounded like this. you briefly wonder what he’d sound like when your pussy engulfs his cock, but he doesn’t let you wonder for long when the tip is down your throat and neji’s tugging you off and picking you up. he sits you on his lap and you grind your hips down, the cloth of your panties making him groan in frustration. 

“take these off,” he growls, tugging them to the side. 

“just rip them,” you moan and he does, tearing the middle in half and you clench around nothing from the sheer strength of him. 

“i can’t wait any more-” he breathes.

“so don’t. let me take care of you, jiji.” you push him flat against the back cushion, sitting up on your knees and lining his tip to your entrance. the stretch from neji’s cock is deliciously painful; it was larger, and thicker than your ex’s, and you can’t stop the whine from passing your lips with every inch you take sinking down. neji can barely speak, breath hitches and is caught in his throat as he watches you move. you have to take a moment to breathe before rolling your hips, your head already spinning from the sheer size. 

“take your time,” he whispers, hands splayed out on your hips to help guide your movements. “i’m not going anywhere.” 

you never thought you’d see this scene in person; neji underneath you, long hair splayed out against the cushions and sticking to his face, chest full of scratches from you and cheeks flushed. you’d only seen him after he had sex once, by accident, but now you know why that girl never left him alone. the mere sight of him is addicting and his voice alluring, constantly singing praises and guidance. 

neji’s never been one to enjoy scratching or biting, but of course, you’re his exception. and maybe that’s why he’s never liked other girls doing it. maybe he needed it to be you for it to feel good because your manicured nails are digging into his back and when he feels the sting every time they drag down his skin, it only makes him want to fit it deeper. 

the head of his dick kisses your cervix with every bounce and you think you’re going to fall apart any minute. 

“fuck– you’ve gotten even tighter,” he grunts, teeth gritting as he watches your tits bounce. “are you going to cum already?” you whine his name, nails digging into his shoulders now, searching for any kind of purchase to ground yourself to. “it’s okay.” 

you can honestly cum from just his voice alone, but now his thumb is circling your clit, his other bruising your thigh with his grip, his hips bucking up and chasing his own orgasm. your head is empty, only neji inside and your orgasm completely blinds you. you see white, the knot in your stomach snapping and you squirt around and in neji’s lap. it makes the hyuga gasp, his hands wrapping your hips tightly and tugging you off his lap as he spurts out ropes of cum on his own stomach. 

your fingers curled around his shoulders before you slump into him. his chuckle vibrates in his chest and you want to stay here for the rest of the night. his arms hook under your ass, standing up with you as he blindly finds his way to his bedroom. you’re trying not to squirm, but he’s still so hard and pressed against your entrance, so you try to press your hips down against his tip. 

“don’t do that,” he breathes into your ear and you moan. he’s barely laid you on the edge of his bed before he’s thrusting his hips, cock sliding back in with ease, hands on either side of your head. your eyes roll back, nails dragging his muscular arms. “god, you’re so tight.” 

“feels s’good, jiji.” you’re cupping the back of his neck, pulling him down against you to kiss him, swallowing his grunts and moans. one of his hands slides down your shoulder and palms your breast.

you’re chasing his lips as he pulls away, your tongue lolling off to the side as he moves his hips in a particular way that causes your back to arch off the bed. his arm hooks underneath your arched back, using the grip to pull you further off the edge and into his thrusts. 

you’re choking out moans, your hand pressing into your lower abdomen. “fuck— feel you right’ere. s’deep, ji.” neji can barely answer, too lost in the slur of your words. 

in all the times he’s heard you (involuntarily) having sex next door, he’s never heard the babble you’re giving him right now; you’ve never been drunk on your ex’s touch so much you make nearly incoherent sentences nor did he ever hear you tell him he’s too deep inside. 

“ji– wait—” your pussy clenches tighter and as neji tries to work through the resistance, you’re pushing at his hips. “too much, s’too much—hhhnngg–”

you’re shaking and twitching as you cum again, gushing around his cock. 

“oh my god.” his hips slow down, but don’t stop, pubic bone brushing against your clit purposefully.

“ne-ji,” you twitch and whine, squirming beneath him as overstimulated tears spring to your eyes. “s’too much.”

“should i stop?” neji’s lavender eyes peer down at you, drinking in every squirm, expression and whimper. you look so beautiful splayed out like this, and he wants to keep you here forever if he could. you shake your head, sniffling as you let your fingers trace the length of his arm. 

“m… not used to this…” he scoots you back up onto the bed, careful not to pull out as he kneels between your legs and hovers over you. 

“not used to what?” he grinds his hips against you before he starts moving again, pulling the length out, just leaving the tip and gradually sliding back in. he repeats it, another knot forming in your stomach and you forget he even asked you something until he asks again. “what are you not used to, baby?” 

“th-this. all the st-stimulation.” 

“that’s a shame. he missed out on how pretty you sound when you whine; when you’re begging for more.” he leans down, his cock sliding in as far as your pussy will let it and he whispers in your ear, “when you cum.” you whimper. “because i know for a fact he’s never made you cum like this.” your mind can’t possibly think of anything to say. he’s so deep inside you, his voice is so deep in your ear, and you’re barely able to breathe without smelling him. “when you think i can’t hear you in the next room, you sound so lazy and bored, but right here, right now,” he emphasizes with a snap of his hips, “they can probably hear you outside, babygirl.”

he hooks his arm back underneath your body, pressing you against him as his hips move, your bodies tangled together tighter than before and you can’t focus on anything. your ankles lock behind him, his dick twitching inside you, and he’s whispering something in your ear that you can barely grab onto before he’s biting down on your neck and sucking patches of skin into his mouth and you’re squeezing him again while your nails deliciously sting his back in ways he wants more of that he can’t stop himself from moaning your name as he cums. 

“oh–” you feel warm, spasming around him. his name leaving your lips and his ragged pants are the only thing in your ear. his elbows lean on either side of your head as neji brushes the hair from sticking to your face. 

“i’m gonna pull out now, okay?” 

everything neji does is different. 

he’s careful as he does, lifting you up and carrying you to the bathroom. he sets you on the counter, grabbing a clean washcloth and wetting it before cleaning your most intimate parts with such gentleness, you could cry. his lips press to your forehead, muffling his words, “are you okay?”

there’s such silly words, those three little words, but he says them as if he really means them, as if he cares. your ex never did, never asked if you were okay, if you needed help cleaning up, if he could dress you. he’s never held you with so much tenderness that if he tightened his grip, you might even be whole again. 

but that’s how neji holds you. that’s how he’s always held you, even when he hated comforting people, when you hated being touched, neji would wrap his arms around you and you felt as if you were being put back together. 

all you can do is nod. you’re exhausted, in every sense of the word. if you speak up, you might fall apart, and who wants to deal with someone crying right after sex? 

don’t cry, don’t cry. you’re okay, why would you cry? 

“hey, it’s okay.” his large hands cup your cheeks, thumbing over the apples of your cheeks and you feel so silly. you feel so stupid. 

neji has given you every reason to fall in love with him. as if you needed more. and yet, it’s as if he’s a neverending reservoir of everything you’ve ever needed, things you didn’t even realize. he’s looking at you, but it feels like the first time you’ve ever noticed how he looks at you, really looks at you. there’s so much love, so much gentleness, raw and pure. 

and you’re not worthy of any of it. how could you be? 

what good have you done in your life to deserve it? 

the hyuga is littering kisses on your lips and cheeks, pressing his lips to your jaw and neck, whispering words you can hardly hear over the pounding of your heart. but your arms slip around his middle and you’re pressing yourself into his chest to hear the faint drumming of his own heartbeat. 

“i’ve got you.”

“you always do.” you hiccup, looking up at him with teary eyes and a soft smile. “you’ve always got me.”

“always.” a tender kiss to your lips before he picks you up, carrying you back to his bed and dressing you in one of his tshirts, the one you always love seeing him in. he’s holding you under the covers as if you’re going to run away any moment now, and you probably would have if it were anyone else. 

his chest rises and falls evenly and you’re exhausted but you can’t close your eyes. you can’t stop your mind from racing, from replaying words that scratch at the back of your mind every night. ‘you’d never be worthy of another person’s kindness. only mine. remember that.’

all you’ll do is taint his life if this turns into anything more, just like that man tainted yours and you can’t risk losing him. you can’t put him through that.

“hey.” neji’s soft voice cuts through your thoughts, the inner turmoil must have been evident on your face… or maybe neji just knows you more than you thought. his eyes are closed when you look at him and you place your head against his chest. “i’m always going to wait for you, no matter what happens. i’m not going anywhere.” 

tomorrow is another day. maybe tonight you can be worth something.

[reignpage]

How Husband!Nanami wins back your favour after upsetting you

Your husband doesn’t argue with you. Not really. He’s a firm believer in happy wife, happy life. It’s always, “whatever you say, honey,” and “forgive me, my love,” and “you’re always right, darling.”

‘Argue’ may actually be an inaccurate word to use; one-sided lashing is better.

Of course, if he needs to put his foot down, he’ll do it, and unhesitatingly. Like when you tried to adopt a homeless man you found wandering the streets, claiming to be a fourteen-year-old boy, or when you wanted to sell the house and backpack through the Amazon rainforest. So yes, when your safety and wellbeing are on the line, he’s not afraid at all to use his stern voice and give you that look that says, you cannot seduce me out of this decision.

Most ‘arguments,’ then, involve you freaking out at him over the littlest things — and sometimes for no reason at all: he painted the living room the wrong shade of white (not eggshell, not cream, not any of the ones he pointed out), he got you one too many packets of chocolate and you accused him of fattening you up, he got exactly the right number of chocolates and you accused him of not loving you enough, or for breathing too loudly when he sleeps.

What happens after you blow up at him, say, for rolling over in bed and not cuddling you?

He apologises. Naturally.

Nanami seeks you out, gathering you into his arms despite your squirming protests, and presses a kiss to the top of your head. “I was heartless, wasn’t I, my love? I hurt your feelings, didn’t I?”

You try to push him away by the chest, but he’s bigger and stronger than you. He doesn’t budge, not even a centimetre. Scowling, you say, “Piss off, Kento. Since you hate me so much.”

“Don’t say that, sweetheart,” he pleads, nosing at your face to get you to look at him. “You know I don’t. I could never hate my darling wife and her adorable pout.”

“Don’t baby me, you big blond dummy. Just turn away like you always do!”

Sighing, Nanami rolls the two of you over on the bed, cornering you between him and the wall, and drapes his heavy limbs over your body. You try to wriggle out of his hold. You can’t — he wouldn’t be a Grade 1 sorcerer if he were so easily moved, after all.

“It’d be wise if you didn’t get in the way of my quality slumbering time with my wife; I’m known to be grumpy in the morning if she’s not in my arms.”

Left with no choice but to resign since there’s no way you can shove his heavy ass off, you soften in his hold and petulantly mumble, “Don’t let go again, Ken. I was freezing last night without you cuddling me. Worst sleep of my life.”

“Oh, I know, sweetheart. And I’m ever so sorry,” he whispers, kissing your cheek again and again until you’re giggling. “Kento’s just a big, dumb blond idiot who doesn’t know better when he’s sleeping. I think he ought to be punished, say, with a taste of what’s between your legs?”

You snort. “Smooth.”

[allaboutyn]

the man you see in me ; word count 1619

⩝ pairing: arthur morgan × female reader ⩝ genre: slow burn, 21st century outlaw turned farmer arthur morgan ⩝ warnings: short. mentions of assault, anxiety, panic attack, hyperventilating, frightening reader, arthur yells, arthur panics, angsty ⩝ au: farmer arthur, modern au ⩝ author’s note: i wanted to show a little bit of arthur's nerves, his anxiety, his trauma that he's never fully dealt with; a moment he's probably never allowed himself to have. kinda proofread ⩝ synopsis: the one where arthur morgan shows you his anxiety.

HIS fingers tug at his locks before his arm swings, his fist colliding with the wall. his hands fling the papers off the desk, cowboy boot colliding with the wood. 

his head is pounding, exhaustion weighing on his shoulders. 

he hasn’t slept in days and you’re beginning to worry it’s taken a toll on his mental health. 

“arthur?” your feet take you up the staircase in quick movements. 

he doesn’t know how to hide from you, the sun glistening against that diamond on your finger.

the diamond just another reminder of him not being good enough for you. 

it was a small simple ring, a heart-shaped diamond with a line of diamonds on each side. 

he couldn’t get you anything bigger. 

“what?” he’s been increasingly aggressive in his responses to you. his deep drawl turns to a growl. 

“is everything okay?” 

“yeah.” 

“your knuckles’ are all red. what happened?” he can’t hide the hole in the wall. he’s too tired to hide it. “what happened?” you say more firmly. 

“nothin’.” 

“nothing? you punched a hole in the wall.” 

“ahh, whatev’r. i’ll fix it t’morrow.”

“arthur.”

“i said i’ll fix it t’morrow!” 

you flinch. you flinch. 

his fingers are shaking. he doesn’t say anything and he walks off. the door slams shut behind him. 

“stupid, stupid, stupid.” 

— ♡

ARTHUR’S bed was empty again last night and he hadn’t even slept. he doesn’t even know why he laid down. 

it’s been a week. his back hurts. his head hurts. his chest hurts. his nightmares are making it harder every night. he needs you by his side, but he can’t forgive himself for scaring you. 

he probably never will. 

—

arthur hears the front door shut from his place in the kitchen. 

he’s mid recipe, eyebrows furrowing. he’s not expecting anyone and he’s pretty positive he locked the door. 

fuck. the one time he left his gun in the bedroom. 

he grabs the meat cleaver, carefully pressing his back up against the wall as he listens for footsteps. your boots hit the side of the wall, just as they always had. he’s asked you to be careful more than once, but right now, he doesn’t care about the wall. he hears you drop your bag in the living room, just as you always had. 

he hasn’t slept comfortably in a week and he’s half-convinced this is some sleep deprivation hallucination. 

what you do next is usually call out to him while walking towards the other entrance to the kitchen, but you don’t say his name. 

“were you planning on using that?” he spins around, dropping the cleaver behind him. you tilt your head to the side, but he notices the way your shoulders twitch with the loud clang. 

he feels like he just destroyed all those months of healing; all those nights you were able to sleep through because the nightmares no longer haunted you. 

“arthur?” 

he can’t breathe. he’s hyperventilating. 

your fingers grip his shoulders. 

it’s not easy forcing a 6’2, 200 lb man onto a bar stool, but you manage to do it. one of his large hands covers his face while the other rests on top of yours. his fingers are shaking, stomach churning. he didn’t expect to see you, nor be holding onto you right now. he didn’t expect you to come back. 

“’m sorry,” he whispers. fuck. he shouldn’t have taken his hat off earlier. he wants to hide. 

“you’ve got nothing to apologize for.”  

it takes some minutes before he finally stops shaking, but he doesn’t remove his hand from his face. 

“why d’ya stick ‘round? what’s it ya think you see in me?” his words are quiet, almost inaudible. if it weren’t for the silence being nearly deafening, you may not have heard him at all. 

“what?” 

“you heard me.” you had. “what’s it that’s keepin’ you here?”

“you are.” 

you’re confused, he knows you are, but he doesn’t have any other way of explaining it to you. 

part of him is begging you not to leave him, but there’s a louder voice in his head telling him he doesn’t deserve you. he doesn’t think you should ever stay with him. 

“arthur?” 

you don’t comfort him the way you usually would. even the way you speak doesn’t sound normal.

it all sounds and feels foreign to him. it sounds like there’s water in his ears, like the words are muffled when leaving your lips. 

the grip on your hand tightens and you don’t flinch away. 

you just let him squeeze and squeeze, even if it feels like your hand is being crushed under the calluses. 

he needs this. 

arthur’s mind is racing with thoughts of letting you leave, letting you run. he’ll be okay with just going back to being neighbors — at least that’s what he’ll tell himself.

he’ll will himself to move on; to not call you in the middle of the night, to stop looking towards your house. 

he’s prepared for it. 

the thoughts are rapidly growing, his breathing erratic and he thinks for a second he might be having a heart attack, or that his throat will close up, but then… they stop. everything stops. 

your hands are cupping his cheeks, forcing his eyes on you. the feeling of your skin on his own grounding his mind for a moment. 

“why would i ever leave you, dummy?” your words still sound so muffled to his ears. “you are the moon, the stars, and everything in between.”

you’ve seen it only a handful of times — arthur’s eyes clouding from blue to gray — when he explained his assault, when his horse broke her leg, when you handed him the deed to a plot of land he wanted to buy, and right. this. minute. 

and it’s always before the liquid floods his cheeks. he tries to run each time. he tries to turn away from you, but this time he can’t. you’ve got your hands on him and he’s too afraid to make sudden movements that may startle you. 

“i feel like i’ve ruined you,” he admits, his hands dropping to his lap. “i feel like i’ll continue to ruin you the longer we stay together.” you’re quiet, and he understands, but he can’t stop himself from speaking now that he’s got you here. “i feel like i’ve ruined all this progress you’ve made just by not thinking about my actions.” he wouldn’t blame you if you left him. he’s expressed for months what he wants before you even decided to date him and now he’s suddenly telling you to leave? this is a lot. 

“‘i want to marry you’.” you mock, the fake southern drawl heavy on your tongue. “that’s what you said six months ago, right?” arthur nods. “and what did i say?”

arthur’s eyebrows furrow before he opens his mouth, drawl equally heavy. “‘then marry me, dummy.’” he sighs. he feels stupid. “i-i don’t know what this feeling is.” 

“trauma.” he scoffs. he’s got enough physical scars. now he’s gotta worry about emotional ones? “what did you do… after your assault? how did you take care of yourself?” 

“what?”

you jump up onto the island counter to sit in front of him and force his head up. you won’t let him hide from you. 

“how did you deal with the trauma of the assault?”

“i went to work and—”

“and you buried it deep inside until you no longer thought about it, until you could sleep throughout the night without nightmares, until your hands stopped shaking and you stopped reaching behind you every time you felt a little wetness drip down.” 

his eyes are cloudy. you give him a small smile. it’s the same smile arthur’s seen you give abigail or mary-beth. it’s sympathy.

“arthur, healing isn’t linear. trauma comes in waves. and everyone rides them in their own ways. some surf and others get knocked underneath the water, nearly drowning. i moved up north and you worked yourself into retirement at the age of thirty”

he doesn’t understand. you’re making his head hurt. 

“i saw the letter, arthur. the man who did this… he’s being executed tomorrow, right?” 

arthur’s fingers tighten once more around your wrists. he doesn’t mean to. he doesn’t even notice, but you don’t twitch; you don’t pull away. 

“not fer what he did, but yeah.” you slip your free hand through his hair, allowing him to relax. 

“this is just a wave, arthur. let me ride it with you.”

—♡

JUST how much distance has he put between the two of you? 

arthur isn’t sure, but right now, he’s got his head pressed against your chest as you laugh and tell stories about your childhood. he’s reveling in your warmth and comfortability. 

he missed you. he missed listening to your voice, missed having you in his arms. 

a week is a long time, but really, he’s not even sure how long it’s been since he’s allowed you to hold him. 

he missed having your fingers in his hair. 

“sweetheart?”

“hm?”

“let’s go raid the fridge.” you wiggle your eyebrows as he laughs, rolling off of you and scooping you into his arms. 

it’s a short ride to the kitchen and he sets you down on the island but you won’t let him move, hooking your legs around his waist. 

“arthur?” his head tilts down to look at you, your arms slipping around his waist. “i love you more than you know. and i forgive you.” 

foreheads pressed together, his breathing shaky, but he’s calm. his chest isn’t tightening as it did earlier. 

“i love you, dummy.”

“yeah, you better.” 

tomorrow’s going to be a long day, but with you by his side, he’s not scared anymore. he’s free.

[strwbrrybxn]

for anyone interested in arthur morgan ♡

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[strwbrrybxn]

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and if i say it's you? 2.0 ⋆ content warning: explicit sexual content, mutual pining, awkwardness

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and i'm not even living la vida loca