soft mornings with hubby!suguru >3
content: domestic fluff, non-graphic shower scene, hair brushing, cuddling, breakfast together, romance, mild suggestive themes.
m.list
you wake up to warm arms wrapped around your waist and the soft glow of morning light peeking through the curtains. for a moment, you just lie there, listening to the gentle rhythm of suguru's breathing against your back. his breath is warm on your neck, and you can feel the steady beat of his heart where your back presses against his chest.
"morning, angel," his voice comes, low and sleepy, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. his arms tighten around you briefly, pulling you even closer. "did you sleep well?"
you twist in his embrace to face him, your nose practically touching his. his long hair is loose, cascading around his face and onto the pillow, some of it tickling your cheek. he looks so peaceful like this, all the sharp edges of his expression softened by sleep. you reach up to brush a strand of hair away from his face.
"i always sleep well when you're here," you murmur. "you're like a personal heater."
he chuckles, the sound vibrating in his chest. "good. because i plan on keeping you warm for a very long time." he leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment. "should we get up? i was thinking we could shower together this morning."
your heart flutters at the suggestion. these quiet mornings together are your favorite. "I'd like that."
the bathroom fills with steam as suguru starts the water, adjusting the temperature with characteristic patience. he tests it on his wrist first, making sure it's just right before pulling you closer. you step into the shower, the warm water immediately relaxing your muscles.
"come here," he says softly, guiding you to stand under the stream. his hands are so gentle as he tips your head back, wetting your hair. his long fingers massage your scalp, and you can't help the small sigh of contentment that escapes you.
"that feels amazing," you whisper.
"i know." you can hear the smile in his voice. "i learned from the best. now close your eyes."
you hear him squirt some shampoo onto his palm sandalwood and lavender, his signature scent. he'd gotten you hooked on it too, saying that the smell reminded him of calm mornings just like this one. he works the shampoo into your hair with the same dedication he applies to everything, his fingers never too rough, always perfectly pressureized.
"you're so good at this," you hum, your eyes still closed as he massages your scalp.
"years of practice," he teases. "i had to take very good care of this hair, you know. it's my best feature."
you laugh, opening your eyes to look up at him. "oh, so that's why you spend twenty minutes on it every morning?"
"thirty minutes," he corrects with a smirk, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement. "and worth every second. wouldn't you agree?"
you let your gaze travel down his body — his broad shoulders, his toned chest, his abdomen where the definition from countless workouts is evident even through the steam. you bite your lower lip before meeting his eyes again.
"absolutely," you breathe.
he laughs, a rich, warm sound that fills the bathroom. "pervert," he says lovingly, booping your nose with soapy fingers. "you were staring."
"can you blame me?" you counter, reaching out to trace the curve of his bicep. "look at yourself. you're like a greek statue come to life."
he flexes deliberately, a smug grin spreading across his handsome face. "what you see is all yours, angel. every single inch." he winks. "including the parts you're not seeing yet."
you splutter, face flushing. "sugu!"
he just laughs again, turning you around so you're facing away from him. "okay, okay. let me finish washing your back before we get distracted." his hands are gentle as he lathers up the loofah, running it down your shoulders and along your spine. "you know," he says, his voice dropping lower, "i really do love these mornings with you."
"yeah?"
"yeah." he presses a kiss to your shoulder, then another one higher up on your neck. "just the two of us, no curses, no complications. just you and me and a warm shower."
you lean back against his chest, letting him support your weight. "i love it too. it feels like we have our own little world."
"we do." his arms wrap around your waist, holding you close under the water. "our own little world where i get to love you however i want."
you turn in his embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck. the water streams down both of you, and you have to tilt your face up to meet his eyes. "and how exactly do you want to love me?"
he considers this, his gaze travelling over your face with naked adoration. "with all of me. every single day. for as long as you'll have me."
"that sounds like a lifetime commitment," you whisper.
"it is." he leans down and captures your lips in a kiss that's sweet and tender and speaks volumes without saying a word. when he pulls back, his eyes are soft. "i meant what i said when i married you. you're mine and i'm yours. no take-backs."
"good." you smile against his mouth. "because i wasn't planning on taking you back either."
he hums in approval, then gently pushes you back under the water stream. "okay, angel. time to rinse. i don't want you getting shampoo in your eyes."
"you're so gentle with me," you observe as he carefully pours water over your hair, his long strand-free fingers making sure every suds is gone.
"you're my wife." he says it like it's the simplest truth in the world. "of course i'm gentle with you. you deserve everything soft and good in this world."
after your hair is rinsed, he reaches for his own bottle of shampoo. you stop him with a hand on his chest.
"let me," you say, taking the bottle from him. "my turn to take care of you."
he raises an eyebrow. “you sure? i mean—"
"i know you let nobody else touch your hair." you stand on your tiptoes to kiss his Jaw. "but i'm not nobody. i'm your wife."
his expression softens immediately. "yeah," he says softly. "you are."
you work the shampoo into his hair with the same tenderness he showed you, massaging his scalp in slow, circular motions. his eyes flutter closed, and a soft groan escapes him.
"that feels incredible," he murmurs. "you have no idea how much i love having your hands on me."
"i think i have some idea," you laugh, continuing your task. his hair is so long and thick, and you find yourself enjoying the texture between your fingers. "how do you even manage to take care of this by yourself?"
"lots of practice," he sighs, leaning into your touch. "but i'd much prefer your hands on me than my own."
you spend a few more minutes just reveling in this moment — caring for him the way he cares for you, learning the parts of his body through touch. his shoulders are broad and strong beneath your palms, evidence of years of physical training. you can feel the ripple of muscles in his back as he shifts his weight, and you have to suppress the urge to trace them with your tongue.
"you're distracting yourself," suguru notes, his voice thick with amusement. "i can hear you thinking."
"shut up," you mumble, focusing fiercely on his hair.
he chuckles, the sound low and fond. "it's okay, angel. i like that you're attracted to me. it works out nicely since i find you absolutely irresistible."
"is that so?"
"oh, without a doubt." he turns around in your embrace, and now you're the one looking up at him. his wet hair clings to his shoulders and chest, and the water streams down his face in rivulets. he looks like something out of a fantasy — beautiful and dangerous and entirely yours. "in fact, i'd say we should probably finish this shower before we get carried away."
"probably," you agree, but neither of you makes a move to separate.
he kisses you again, slower this time, more deliberate. his hands settle on your waist, thumbs tracing patterns on your skin. when he finally pulls back, both of you are breathing a little heavier.
"tease," you accuse.
"pot calling the kettle black," he counters, finally reaching for the detachable showerhead. "you started it."
"no, you started it!"
"mm, debatable." he begins rinsing his own hair, his back to you. you take the opportunity to admire the view — the way his muscles move beneath his skin, the way his wet hair clings to his muscular frame. your husband is ridiculously attractive, and you're not afraid to admit it.
"like what you see?" he asks without turning around, clearly having caught you staring.
"absolutely," you don't even try to deny it. "you're stunning."
he turns to face you, a self-satisfied grin on his handsome face. "stunning, huh? that's a new one. usually people go for breathtaking or gorgeous."
"i like to be original," you shrug.
"well, thank you, angel." he pulls you close again, pressing your bodies together under the warm water. "you're pretty stunning yourself. most beautiful woman i've ever seen."
"now you're just being sappy."
"i can be both." he nuzzles his nose against yours. "sappy and in love with my gorgeous wife."
a warmth spreads through your chest at his words, and you wrap your arms around his torso, letting yourself be held. the water streams over both of you, and for a long moment, you just stand there, wrapped in each other's embrace.
finally, suguru speaks. "okay, i really don't want you getting sick from staying in the water too long." he presses a quick kiss to your temple. "come on, angel. let's get out."
"turning into prunes already?" you tease.
"exactly." he turns off the water and steps out, grabbing a towel for himself first before wrapping another one around you. he doesn't even try to dry himself off first — instead, he focuses entirely on you, making sure you're wrapped up snug and warm.
"what about you?" you ask.
"i'll dry off in a minute. you first." he tucks the towel securely around you, his hands lingering on your shoulders. "i like taking care of you. it makes me feel... useful."
you reach up to touch his face, your thumb tracing his cheekbone. "you are useful. you're my husband, my partner, my best friend. you do so much for me already."
"not enough." he turns his head to press a kiss to your palm. "i'll never do enough."
"suguru," you say softy, "you do everything. more than enough. more than i ever dreamed of."
he looks at you for a long moment, and there's something almost reverent in his expression. "how did i get so lucky?" he whispers.
"i ask myself the same thing every day."
he laughs, tucking a strand of wet hair behind your ear. "okay, enough of this emotional stuff. let's go get dressed. i want to spend the day with my beautiful wife."
you follow him to your shared bedroom, the towel still wrapped around you. suguru is already dry he'd done a quick job of it while you were watching him with hearts in your eyes and he's rummaging through the closet for something to wear.
"what are you thinking for today?" he asks, glancing back at you over his shoulder. his long hair is damp, clinging to his back in wet strands.
"something comfortable," you say, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "maybe a lazy day? we don't have any plans, do we?"
"nope." he pulls out a simple black t-shirt and some grey sweatpants, holding them up for your approval. "how about these? i was thinking we could have breakfast together, maybe watch some movies, that documentary series you like—"
"suguru," you interrupt, smiling. "that sounds perfect. whatever you want."
"what i want is to make you happy." he walks over and sits beside you on the bed. "so if lazy day with movies and breakfast sounds good to you, then that's what we'll do."
"it sounds perfect."
he leans over and kisses your cheek, lingering there for a moment. "good. now let me help you get dressed. your hair is still wet, and i don't want you getting cold."
"suguru, i can dress myself," you laugh, but there's warmth in your voice.
"i know." he starts drying your hair with the towel, his touch impossibly gentle. "but i like taking care of you. let me have this."
how could you possibly argue with that? you let him dry your hair, letting out a small hum of contentment at the soft friction of the towel against your scalp. when he's satisfied that you're mostly dry, he reaches for your clothes.
"arms up," he instructs, and you comply, letting him pull your shirt over your head. he dresses you with the same care he demonstrates in everything — making sure the fabric isn't twisted, smoothing it down over your curves.
"there we go," he murmurs, stepping back to admire you. "beautiful."
"you haven't even seen the pants yet."
"i don't need to." he taps your nose. "you're beautiful in everything. or nothing."
"suguru!" you swat at him, but you're laughing.
he grins, grabbing a pair of lounge pants for you. "okay, okay. pants time. lift your feet."
you step into the panties and pants he holds open for you, and he pulls them up your legs with exaggerated care. his hands linger on your thighs, and you catch his expression — soft and fond and entirely smitten.
"what?" you ask.
"nothing." he stands up, adjusting the waistband so it sits perfectly on your hips. "just... i love you."
"i love you too." you reach out and pull him into a hug, burying your face in his chest. "thank you for taking care of me."
"always." he holds you tight, his chin resting on top of your head. "that's my job now."
after a few moments, he steps back, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. "okay, your turn to help me."
"oh?" you raise an eyebrow. "i thought you had a strict no-touch policy for your hair."
he sighs, though there's a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "you know you're the exception to every rule i have."
"flattery will get you everywhere, mr. geto."
"i was hoping it would." he sits down on the bed, crossing his legs and facing away from you. "okay, angel. do your worst."
you pick up the hairbrush from the bedside table and settle behind him. his damp hair is a tangled mess, and you can't help but tut softly.
"what happened to all that thirty-minute maintenance you yap about?" you ask, starting at the ends and working your way up.
"that's for dry hair." he winces as you hit a snag. "sorry. i haven't brushed it yet. i was waiting for you."
"you were waiting for me?"
"yeah." his voice is softer now, almost embarrassed. "i like when you brush my hair. it's... intimate. in a good way."
your heart melts. "suguru. you should have said something."
"i know. i just..." he trails off, and you can see the tips of his ears turning red. "i like being taken care of by you. it makes me feel... safe."
you set down the brush and lean forward, wrapping your arms around his neck from behind. you press your chest to his back, your chin resting on his shoulder. "you're safe with me, okay? always. i promise."
he reaches up to cover one of your hands with his own, his fingers curling around your palm. "i know. that's why i married you."
"good." you press a kiss to his cheek before pulling back to resume your task. "now sit still and let me work my magic."
he does, staying surprisingly still as you work through the tangles in his long hair. you take your time, making sure you're not hurting him, being as gentle as possible. when you reach the crown of his head, he practically purrs.
"that feels amazing," he murmurs. "you have magical hands."
"i know," you tease. "i learned from watching you."
"smart woman."
it takes a while, but finally his hair is smooth and detangled, falling in dark waves down his back. you set down the brush and run your fingers through it one more time, just for the sheer pleasure of touching him.
"okay," you say. "it's dry enough now. time for accessories."
he turns to look at you, raising an eyebrow. "accessories?"
"cute clips." you reach into the jar on your dresser and pull out several small hair clips — some with bows, some with flowers, one with a little cartoon cat face. "i found these yesterday and i think they'll look adorable in your hair, can i?”
for a moment, he just looks at the clips in your hand before huffing out a quiet laugh. “angel, mimiko and nanako do this to me all the time,” he says, sounding far more amused than reluctant. “why would i not allow you to? it’s fine.”
he turns his back to you again, dark hair cascading down his shoulders like a silent invitation. “do your worst, angel.”
you let out a squeal of delight that makes him chuckle. you select a few clips carefully a small pink bow, a blue flower, and the cat one because you think it will make him look adorable.
"you look so cute," you announce once you're done, turning his face toward yours to admire your handiwork. "like a little pretty boy."
he lets you turn his face toward yours, the clips catching the light just enough to make it worse. his eyes flick over your expression, then drift away with a slow, exaggerated side-eye.
“pretty boy,” he repeats flatly, like he’s testing how insulting the words are supposed to be.
there’s a beat of silence.
then his mouth twitches.
“you’re lucky i love you,” he says, still giving you that look, but there’s no real heat behind it—just fond resignation. “because that was not the compliment you think it was.”
you gasp softly, placing a hand over your heart like you’ve been wounded. “not a compliment?” you repeat, scandalized. “suguru geto, i just enhanced your natural pretty-boy aura.”
you step closer, squinting at him like you’re appraising a masterpiece. “you should be thanking me, honestly. this is elite styling.”
then your expression softens into a grin. “besides,” you add, voice dropping a little gentler, “you like it. i can tell.”
he holds your gaze for a moment longer, still wearing that faint, unimpressed look like he’s debating whether to argue with you on principle. then he exhales through his nose, a soft sigh that ruins any attempt at seriousness. “yes, i do,” he says simply. no hesitation, no embarrassment just honesty, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
"that's all i needed to hear." you kiss his cheek, leaving a faint lipstick mark. "okay, my turn."
you turn around, presenting your damp hair to him. he picks up the brush and goes to work, his touch feather-light against your scalp. it's silent for a while, both of you just enjoying the intimacy of the moment.
"you know," suguru says eventually, "i never thought i'd have this."
"have what?"
"this. someone to share mornings with. someone who touches my hair without me wanting to flinch." he pauses, carefully working out a tangle. "someone who makes me feel normal."
"you are normal, suguru."
"some days i'm not so sure." his voice is quiet, vulnerable. "but with you... you make me feel like i can be. like i don't have to be the strong one all the time."
you reach back to find his hand, squeezing it gently. "you're always strong for me. but you don't have to be. not with me. i love all of you. the strong parts and the vulnerable parts and everything in between."
he's quiet for a moment, then you feel his lips press to your shoulder. "i love you," he says. "so much it sometimes scares me."
"me too." you turn to look at him over your shoulder. "but in the best way."
he smiles a real smile, soft and warm and completely unguarded. "finish your hair, you romantic sap."
"you started it!"
"nope. i just stated a fact." he resumes brushing, more determined now. "my wife is an romantic sap who makes me feel loved."
"and my husband is a big softie who lets me put clips in his hair."
"keep talking and i'll put all the clips in at once."
"you wouldn't dare."
“try me."
you laugh, turning back around to face forward. "okay, okay. i'm being good."
he finishes brushing your hair, making sure it's smooth and free of tangles. then he reaches into the jar and pulls out a clip a star-shaped one with small gemstones embedded in it.
"this one," he says, fastening it into your hair. "i saw it yesterday and thought of you. you're my guiding star, angel."
your heart flip-flops in your chest. "suguru..."
"too cheesy?"
"never." you turn to face him, cupping his face in your hands. "you're never too cheesy. i love every soft thing you say to me."
"good." he kisses the tip of your nose. "because i have an endless supply."
"good. i have an endless supply of love to receive it with."
he stands up, pulling you with him. he smooths down your hair one more time, adjusting the star clip so it catches the light perfectly.
"perfect," he declares. "my beautiful wife."
"my handsome husband." you reach up to touch the cat clip in his hair. "and his very cute accessories."
he rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. "come on, let's go make breakfast. i'm starving."
you follow him to the kitchen, watching as he moves around with easy familiarity. he pulls out ingredients for pancakes — flour, eggs, milk, sugar and sets them on the counter with the precision of someone who takes cooking seriously.
"you want chocolate chips in yours?" he asks, already reaching for the bag.
"always."
"good choice." he starts mixing the batter, his strong arms working the whisk with practiced ease. you lean against the counter, just watching him. there's something mesmerizing about the way he moves confident and controlled, like everything he does matters.
"you're staring again," he notes without looking up.
"i can't help it. you look good with flour on your nose."
he pauses, reaching up to touch his face. sure enough, there's a dusting of white on the tip of his nose. you take a step closer and brush it away with your thumb, lingering there for a moment.
"there," you murmur. "all clean."
"now you're getting flour on my cheek," he says, but he's leaning into your touch.
"oops." you don't step back. instead, you let your hand trail down to his jaw, tilting his face toward yours. "hi."
"hi." his voice is softer now. "what are you doing?"
"admiring my husband."
"admiring can wait until after breakfast. i don't want the pancakes to burn."
"fine." you drop your hand but don't step back. "but afterwards, i want cuddles."
"cuddles are non-negotiable." he returns to the batter, pouring it onto the hot griddle with practiced skill. "we might also need to rewatch that documentary you like. the one about deep sea creatures."
"really?"
"really." he glances at you, a soft smile on his face. "i remember you saying you wanted to see it again. so we will."
"you remember everything i say?"
"everything important." he flips a pancake with a practiced flick of his wrist. "your happiness is important."
you feel your heart do that familiar flip it does whenever he says something unexpectedly sweet. "you're ridiculous."
"ridiculously in love with you," he corrects. "there's a difference."
"not really."
"there is." he arranges the finished pancakes on a plate, adding whipped cream and strawberries on top for you. "ridiculous implies something negative. my love for you is the most positive thing in my life."
you're quiet for a moment, overwhelmed by the sheer weight of his devotion. then you walk over and wrap your arms around his waist from behind, pressing your face between his shoulder blades.
"thank you," you whisper. "for loving me like this."
he covers your arms with his own, holding you close. "thank you for letting me."
after breakfast, you end up on the couch exactly as suguru promised, a fluffy blanket draped over both of you as the documentary plays on the screen. your head rests on his chest, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, his long hair still adorned with the clips you chose spilling over the armrest.
"this is nice," you sigh.
"this is perfect," he corrects, pressing a kiss to your hair. "exactly how i want to spend every morning."
"you don't get tired of this?"
"never." his fingers trace lazy patterns on your shoulder. "i spent so many years alone. so many years thinking i didn't deserve something like this. and then i met you, and you showed me that i was wrong."
you tilt your head to look at him. "i didn't show you anything. you already knew. you just needed someone to be there."
"yeah." his purple eyes are soft, endless. "you were there. and you kept being there, even when i pushed you away. even when i didn't think i was worth the effort."
"you were always worth the effort."
"i know that now." he smiles, and it's like the sun coming out. "because of you. you're my proof that good things can happen to people like me."
"people like you?"
"people who have done bad things. people who think they don't deserve happiness." he pauses, looking away from the screen to focus entirely on you. "you taught me that i can have both. the good and the bad. they can coexist. and that i don't have to choose between them."
"suguru..." you reach up to touch his face. "you deserve every good thing in this world. and if nobody has told you that lately—"
"you tell me every day," he interrupts softly. "multiple times a day. i never get tired of hearing it."
"good." you settle back against his chest. "because i plan on telling you every day for the rest of our lives."
"i can live with that." he holds you closer, if possible. "in fact, i can't wait."
the documentary drone on in the background, but neither of you are really paying attention. you're too caught up in each other, in the simple joy of being together, of having this moment just for yourselves.
"sugu," you murmur eventually.
"yeah?"
"your hair clips are falling out."
he reaches up, adjusting the cat clip that's slipped slightly. "better?"
"let me fix it."
you sit up, turning him toward you so you can rearrange the clips. the cat one goes back in its proper place, along with the pink bow and the blue flower. you take a moment to just look at him your husband, your bestie, the man who lets you do his hair and feed him pancakes and curl up against him on lazy mornings.
"perfect," you declare, leaning in to kiss his forehead.
"i have the best wife," he says, pulling you back down against him.
"you really do."
he laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest and into yours. "i love you, angel."
"i love you too, sugu. more than you'll ever know."
"i think i'm starting to get an idea." he kisses the top of your head, lingering there. "you show me every day. in everything you do."
you're quiet for a moment, just listening to his heartbeat. then, softly “i'll keep showing you. for as long as you want me."
"forever, then." his arms tighten around you. "i want you forever."
"forever it is." you close your eyes, letting the warmth of his embrace and the sound of his heart lull you into a state of perfect contentment. "you're stuck with me, suguru."
"the best kind of stuck," he murmurs. "the kind i never want to get out of."
