Fallen Wings (Fallen Angel! Sasuke Uchiha X Angel! Reader) ((Oneshot Slight Smut))

VIRGIN!JJK FIC RECS

something about virginity loss fics makes me sooo wet... req by anon ^^ adding onto the list whenever i find more <3 mdni, nsfw content!

gojo digimon—but making u cum is my real hobby - blkkizzat strongest sorcerer virgin - megumiluv virgin and unexperienced bf!gojo - fatal fairies number one sorcerer (and virgin) - inmaki nerds do it better - sugugasm virginity loss & riding - creamflix

geto reformed player!geto - akicult virginity loss & riding - creamflix losing your virginity to geto suguru - yasu-1234 his favourite - h34rtbeat just let me love you - sttoru salvation - puppykento inked - choslut

nanami she said it's her first time - classyrbf sins of the flesh - semisgroupie perfect lover: the life of nanami kento the 35 year old virgin (series) - kanekisfavouritegf

yuuji oh my god, pretty - lokissweater virgin!yuji x virgin!reader - nana-au bff & virgin!yuji - nana-au yuji x f!reader - ickyuji

megumi best friend megumi fushiguro - onismdaydream megumi's birthday - mommypeick first time having sex is awkward - wild-jackaloupe how to fuck 101 - chosok-amo i think i'm ready - romantichomocide95 first time - megvmijx

yuta that boy is mine! i can't wait to try him! - rosesaints gummy bear - loveanddeepdick right here - love-jelly smile, you're on camera - seraphdreams

choso virgin!choso - teasingchoso choso kamo x f!reader - jaegerdilf mind body and soul - admirxation cherry blossoms ( 1 2 3 4 5 ) - sellenite cherry smoke clouds - kleftiko he's such a (hot) looser - classyrbf emo boy - krys4h

toji sins of the flesh - semisgroupietaboo crush - spideyyeet best friend's dad - nanaslut

sukuna virgin!sukuna - screampied

etc jjk!boys x virgin!fem reader v!rgin killa - screampied asking the jjk characters to take your virginity - nanaslut cherry popper - satorusugurugirl

ʚ⁺˖ ↠ blue

ᰔ pairings: dabi/touya todoroki x fem!reader ᰔ content/tags: mha spoilers, childhood pov, abusive childhoods, childhood crush, blood, allusions to self harm/suicide, explicit language, smut, kinda not really, its smutty talk, angst, allusions to s/a, power dynamics, time jump to when touya is like 26, creative liberties have been taken with the original story, set in the century 2400 ᰔ wc: 10.5k ᰔ a/n: so there is a bit of a weird timeline with this one. instead of touya dying at 13, I've made it he dies at 16 and the subsequent events are a lil delayed, in the manga he is 24 atm but here i have him as 26, please suspend your disbelief for a sec cause the amount of work ive put into this so it makes sense, i almost went crazy

March 10th 2460 Touya: aged nine You: aged eight (and three-quarters)

Breakfast is at five, lunch at twelve, and dinner at seven.

The clock hands tick over the first five graduations and onto the sixth, meaning it is six minutes past seven and dinner is late.

Lateness is not tolerated by the Todoroki clan.

No reason, whether it be big or small, would be accepted nor understood by the head of the family, and punishment for being tardy ranged from groundings to lectures and in the most severe cases, a beating. However, those parameters do not extend to said head, who you think to be more akin to that of a prison warden than a father.

You watch the housekeeper slide the last of the food onto the table and take another look at the clock.

7:08.

The table had been set, food diligently prepared and presented, plates piled high with greens and dripping meat, three different kinds of fish, an array of soups, and other liquid foods. Mrs Todoroki often had trouble eating, so instead opted for warm broths and hot teas, and they were all going cold while you waited for Mr Todoroki to come in from Touya’s nightly training. Saliva coats your tongue as you breathe in the heavenly scents wafting from the mountains of food, your stomach growling in protest at not being filled with the delicious smells.

Ten minutes pass and just before the eleventh has a chance to be observed, the sliding doors to the dining room whoosh open. With the ease and casualness of someone who is above the law of the household, Enji Todoroki strolls in followed closely behind by the eldest sibling.

Touya trails behind his father, movements sluggish and slow, his frail body slumped in exhaustion and what you would only later realise as terror. You can almost see the muck that weighs on his body, dripping off sharp bones in big flat globs of swamp green mud, seeping into the reeds of the tatami mats below. Fresh wounds litter his arms, blooms of dark red blood pock the sterile bandages that were hastily wrapped around his limbs. The stark white began at his wrists and climbed up and up his arms until they disappeared beneath the sleeve of his t-shirt. You follow Touya, eyes lingering on his wounds as he sits down opposite you.

“Fuyumi. Is he-“ Your question is hushed, spoken from the corner of your mouth to avoid raising suspicion of the subject.

“He’s okay, we don’t talk about it.” Her answer comes in a rush, eyes darting towards her father like a prey animal watching their stalker.  “Just eat.” 

Fuyumi’s mouth pulls into a frown for a quick second before her attention moves to the food before her.

You nod, attention shifting from the boy across the table to the plate that had been prepared just for you. A small helping of meat and fish paired with a big serving of rice and vegetables, the nanny even going as far as to put it into a divider plate as though you were a toddler, but you thanked her regardless, smiling up at the haggard-looking woman as she nodded politely and moved onto tending to baby Shouto. The food only holds your attention for so long before you glance back up at Touya, watching as he cuts into his steak with the precision of a man far beyond his years. Each move slow and calculated; every shift of his arms or turn of his head deliberate and purposeful, small actions to avoid raising awareness of his person. Come to think of it, all the children, save for Shouto, moved like that. As if they were in constant apologetic states just for breathing, existing, and with their father you understand why, but it doesn’t stop you from staring at the boy before you.

"Stop looking. He doesn't like it when you stare." Fuyumi whispers, smacking her knee against yours.

"But it looks like it hurts." You whisper back, unable to look away from the red splotches on the white bandages.

You want to ask if he is okay. If he needs a doctor and who did that to him? Was it a bully at school? How was the school not getting involved if he was being bullied this bad?

"Fuyumi," Touya sneers from across the table. "Tell your friend to stop staring at me."

Unabashed hatred simmers in his blue eyes as his glare falls on you. Heat rises to your cheeks, stumbling out an apology, and vowing to never look at him again.

No one had ever looked at you like that. With such hatred and malice, you didn’t even know existed.

"He plays rough, always falling over at school," Mr. Todoroki’s voice booms throughout the room, so loud and sudden it is like a thunderclap on a clear day. "You've got to be more careful, Touya. What would people think if they saw you like this!"

The lack of care for his son’s well-being gives you pause mid-bite. The vegetables fall from your fork as goosebumps skitter along your skin.

What would people think if they saw you like this?

What would they think other than he had been in an accident? Is Touya’s broken body a regular occurrence that people would be so used to seeing that it would start to raise suspicion? Had he been hurt on purpose? Why would Mr. Todoroki say that? Did Mr. Todoroki do that to Touya?

Your attention is pulled outwardly as Natsuo starts to talk about his day, telling his mom and the housekeepers all about the latest games and toys at school, the newest edition of a card game you like captivates you and your thoughts are swept away from the strange boy across from you. 

Dinner ended as it always did.

Mr. Todoroki called the housekeeper over to deal with the mess and children as he retired to his office and Mrs Todoroki took her evening walk around the grounds of the estate. You can’t stay the night despite it being a Friday, you’re never allowed to stay the night. Fuyumi had stayed at yours plenty of times, your parents never saying no to another friend but never you at hers. You thanked both her parents and waved bye to her brother before the youngest housekeeper walked you home. That’s how every Friday night ended.

That routine had become a staple in your life, going on two years, before there was a change to the way of things.

------

July 1st 2362 Touya: aged eleven You: aged ten

The shift was subtle and gradual, like the way a house is warmed by a fire on a winter’s eve. Slow and steady, seeping into all corners of the once-frozen house until all you know is warmth and you can’t remember how the cold felt. That’s how you would describe Touya’s presence in your life. From the arctic interactions each Friday night at the dinner table to someone you would call a friend.

The first thaw of the ice wall that had formed around your friend’s brother, was an accident.

Knee deep in the heat of summer, you had rushed over after summer school, swimmers in your backpack and a dream of jumping into the fresh cold heaven that was the local pool. You had come looking for Fuyumi, hell-bent on getting your poor friend out of the stuffy old house and somewhere she could have fun without the risk of her dad making her or her siblings cry.

You had come to hate Mr Todoroki.

He hadn’t done anything to you personally to deserve the contempt you held towards your friend's dad but you had heard enough from Fuyumi. She had told you all the times he made her mom cry. How there would be arguing and then the sounds of breaking plates followed by her mom’s cries. Mrs. Todoroki never said anything was wrong, never alluded to anything other than a mild argument but there had to be something more, right? Adults didn’t cry over nothing!

“ ‘Yumi, let's go to the pool!” you call down the hall. “I’ll buy ice cream this time.”

The housekeeper had let you in, instructing that your friend was in her room finishing up some school work but after you checked her room and found no sign of her, you went looking.

That is how you found Touya.

Walking into the bathroom under the assumption you would find Feyumi, you are greeted with a situation you are not old enough to understand the severity of.

Touya slouched on the bathroom floor, surrounded by bloodied towels, unspooled bandages, and uncapped ointment tubes. A piece of gauze caught between his teeth as he attempts to bandage his bleeding hand.

He shouts at you to leave, his command broken as he hiccups around the sobs falling from him. Scorched skin covering the majority of his arms, fingers red and blistering as they shake.

That image sears into your brain. Imprinting itself onto your eyelids so that each time you fall asleep, you see Touya; broken and bloody.

There isn’t much you remember from that afternoon, only flashes and stills that live in the recesses of your mind.

The feel of the cold tiles on your exposed legs as you knelt before the once terrifying older boy who had never had a single nice thing to say to you.

The smell of salt and metal of his fresh blood.

The sound of Touya’s cries as you peeled incorrectly placed bandages off raw and exposed skin.

The acidic taste of bile in the back of your throat upon first laying eyes on the scene before you.

It had been too much for little you to comprehend so you just forgot most of it. Thrown it into a locked drawer in your mind and lost the key.

That was the beginning of the thaw, a gruesome and bloody beginning to a friendship that spanned years and ended just as horribly.

------

September 23rd 2463 Touya: aged twelve You: aged eleven

“So it's this really old movie that my mum used to watch” you explain as you click on the familiar title screen. “It’s about a girl who gets transported to this weird world and she has to solve some weird riddle to get out.”

Touya looks at you like you had grown a second head but accepts your weird movie recommendation. You sit down next to him, popcorn bucket jiggling as the couch sinks under your frame.

The beginning animation of Spirited Away starts and the familiar tune wraps around you like a warm hug. This was the movie you liked to watch whenever you felt sad, and you noticed Touya was a little sadder than normal these days so you offered to have a movie night. His siblings had all said yes but upon discovering that the movie was one from decades ago, backed out. So with just the two of you left, you sit in silence and watch as the beautiful world comes to life.

It’s a nice moment between the two of you, sharing something so personal with someone you would have never considered a friend and here the two of you were, watching a movie. Like friends!

“I’m gonna call you Chihiro cause all she does is cry and that’s all you do too,” Touya announces as the credits begin to roll.

“I do not!” you retort, slapping his arm lightly. “I cry a normal amount for a girl my age!”

Touya rolls his eyes. “Whatever, Chihiro.”

------

February 14th 2464 Touya: aged thirteen You: aged twelve

Spring is only a month away yet it feels as if it were the middle of December.

The cold of winter had sunk its claws deep into the city and it seemed as if it did not have plans to let go of it anytime soon. Everyone in Tokyo bundled up against the frost that coated the wind but it wasn’t the cold that had your hands trembling as you gripped a single rose.

It was Valentine's Day and you were about to ask Touya to be yours.

The nerves that had built in your stomach had taken over your extremities. It was as if your entire body was a live wire that every so often touched an exposed pipe and jolted.

In the two years since the bathroom incident, you had grown closer to the oldest Todoroki, sparking a friendship that consisted of more than smiles and shy hellos across the dinner table. Phone calls and text messages were the daily, walking to school and home together was the new norm, all things that one would consider friendly but there was a part within your heart that was growing to like Touya a little more than a friend. You knew it was a crush, you weren’t a little kid anymore, but you also knew that he was unattainable for many reasons. One was that he was a sibling of a close friend and the other being that he was not someone who thought about life that way. There was no room for crushes in Touya’s world. There was only hero work. How to become a hero and then how to become the number one hero.

You had heard this speech a million times. His plans to surpass his father in the rank of heroes and become the ultimate symbol of peace. Heroes had no time for girlfriends, only villains.

But you had no plans of becoming a hero so there was no real reason you shouldn’t try, right? Your mom had bought you the flower this morning, picking up on the crush that you had developed on your friend and very excitedly pushed you to give Touya a gift.  

“What do I do with this?” Touya asks, confused as he takes the flower from your hands.

You had stopped halfway through the walk home and turned to your friend, eyes wide with fear, and shoved the bloom into his hands. Originally the plan was to hand it to him as you said goodbye for the afternoon but you were swiftly running out of ways to regulate your breathing to counteract the anxiety wreaking havoc in your stomach.

“It's for you” you answer, eyes trained on your shoes. 

“Me?” 

“Yes.”

“Are you asking me to be your valentine?” There is a pause. “Do you like me?”

Yes.

“No!” you lie, shouting the word even though you didn’t mean to. “I felt bad that you hadn’t gotten anything, so I got you something and there you go, it doesn’t mean I like you.”  

You hear footsteps, watching Touya’s shoes move closer to yours. “Just admit, you like me.” He teases. 

“I do not!” balling your fists, you stomp your foot. “I already told you why I got them now shut up before I take them back!” 

Another pause. 

“Thank you,” Touya says gently. “Even if it's just cause you felt bad for me” 

Spring had come early for Touya Todoroki.

------

June 28th 2466 Touya: aged fifteen You: aged fourteen

Romance had blossomed between the two of you, then wilted, then blossomed again, then wilted again.

Teenage hormones had been unleashing havoc on your friendship for the past year. One day you were fine and the next, barely speaking but it wasn’t anyone’s fault.

“You two just need some time apart and then you can talk about it, you guys will sort it out.” Your mother had cooed, stroking your hair back as you cried one afternoon after you and Touya had had a ruthless argument.

The topic of fighting was always the same. His insane need to overtake his father and prove him wrong. The need within him had turned insatiable. Morphing from a dream that would one day be achieved with dedication and hard work into something that was turning your best friend into a ravenous beast.

“You’re not listening to me. I need you to listen to me.” Touya shouts as you walk home together.

“I am. You’re just not making sense.” You roll your eyes at your friend, turning your attention away from the raving lunatic walking beside you.

“Why would your dad have it out for you? He’s your dad?”

Touya huffs and stops, hand wrapping around your wrist to pull you back.

“My dad isn’t like your dad. He doesn’t love me or any of us. He just wants us to be better than All Might.” His words are slow as if explaining something to a toddler. “He knows that I am more powerful than him and now he’s scared that I might beat him so he wants me to stop training.”

You groan out his name, annoyed at the constant conversation topic. “Your dad wants you to stop training because you keep hurting yourself. He has told you that a million times, he’s just trying to keep you safe.”

“If he wanted to keep me safe, he wouldn’t have let me train like this. This isn’t about me being safe, this is about me outranking my dad.”

“Touya-“

He continues his tirade. “Enji has realised that I am better than him and Shoto but he doesn’t want his loser son who can only use fire to become the number one hero. I don’t know why you’re on his side. Why can’t you be on my side for once?”

“I am on your side!” you shout, yanking your arm away from his grasp. “I’m always on your side, why do you always make it seem like everyone is against you!”

Touya’s mouth snaps shut at your sudden outburst.

“I can’t keep having this argument with you. I feel like you don’t even want to be my friend so you come up with this stupid stuff to push me away and if you want that, fine. Just tell me so I don’t have to listen to you anymore.” You huff and turn around, starting on your way home without your friend.

You don’t hear his footsteps follow you.

His apology comes in a text later that night.

I'm sorry, Chihiro. Can we still be friends?

------

October 19th 2466 Touya: aged fifteen You: aged fourteen “Can you promise me something?”  Touya’s words become mist in the mid-autumn night.

“Depends.”

You turn to face your friend, feeling the dew-soaked grass squish beneath your shoulders. Hidden behind the garden wall, lost within the shrubbery the two of you hid from the housekeepers who had been tasked with wrangling the children in for dinner. Touya had run first, taking off down the hall the second he heard the call of his name and you followed, unaware as to what you were running from but you followed him everywhere so why wouldn’t you now?

“Please don’t forget me.”

“Forget you?” your brows crinkle in confusion. “Why would I forget you? Are you going somewhere?”

Touya is still on his back, attention rapt on the stars twinkling above him.

“Just when we get older and go to different schools and things change, you know.” He sighs. “Just don’t forget me.”

You sit up, concern overtaking your confusion. Why was he talking about this stuff now? Your friend turns to look at you, mouth pulled down in a frown as tears line his cerulean eyes.

“I won't.” You shake your head, scooting closer across the grass and grab his cold hand, interlocking your fingers together, you squeeze and swear an oath. “I promise, I won’t ever forget you.”

November 24th 2367 Touya: aged sixteen You: aged fifteen

Nights come quicker in winter.

Which means less time spent with Touya.

But at least there is a little extra time when he walks you home on an evening.

It is a little awkward. Walking so close together but not actually touching aside from the occasional brush of fingers that sent your heart into a sprint. There is something unspoken between the two of you, something that teeters on the edge of romance but not something that you are both ready to dive into. It’s not like you are kids anymore, if you are going to date, it will be different than if you just liked each other. You will have to act like a girlfriend and not his friend and you didn’t know how to be a girlfriend. Was it any different than how you acted now? Plus, kissing and hand-holding. God, you want to kiss him.

You both stop at the gate of your house. The lights in the living room are on which means your parents are up waiting for you.

Touya drops your backpack at your feet.

There is a beat of stillness between the two of you, the tension rising with every second. You had not spoken a single word to each other the entire walk home and you don’t think you will even say goodbye. Touya offers you a tight smile and steps back, confirming your suspicions of a silent goodbye.

"Hey, I need to tell you something." You blurt out the words, not wanting him to leave just yet.

"Yeah?"

"I…umm," you stammer, slipping your hands into your jacket pockets. "I know it's your birthday in a few weeks, so I wanted to know what you want as a present."

"That's a question, Chihiro” Touya's mouth lifts at the corners. “You said you needed to tell me something."

“I got mixed up." You amend.

"You sure? There isn't anything you need to tell me?" Touya pushes, taking a step to close the gap.

"I'm sure. I just got confused" You nod, affirming your choice of words. “What do you want as a gift?”

"Hmm,” He pauses and takes a few more steps closer, lips pursed as if deep in thought. “Well, I want some of those cookies your mom makes." 

Touya stops a few feet from you, close enough for a hug but not close enough that it was weird. 

You laugh. "Really? That's it? You don't want a proper present?"

He nods. "Wrap it up, and it'll be a proper present.”

“Okay, cookies it is” You mirror his nod and smile. Your palms start to sweat, cheeks and ears begin to burn as you look up at your best friend.

“Any more questions?” 

You shake your head. “Nope, that’s all.” 

“Okay, well I’m gonna go 'cause I should have been home ten minutes ago but you are such a slow walker” he teases, bouncing up on his toes. 

“I-Um,” you stutter, unable to come up with a snappy comeback due to his proximity. “Go home before you get into trouble.” 

“I’m gonna.”

He makes no move to go.

Silence fills the gap.

“Ahh, well I’m going to go since-“

You’re interrupted by a soft kiss against your cheek. 

You still, unable to move at the realisation that Touya had just kissed you. 

“Okay, I’m going.” He announces and takes a step back. “I’ll see you on Monday?” 

You nod, raising a hand in goodbye as he starts back down the street.

“I hope you like me too, 'cause that kiss made me late and my dad’s gonna kill me!” he shouts back, already halfway down the street. 

“I do…like you…back” you shout awkwardly, feeling every inch of blood your body had flood into your cheeks. “Good luck. Hope your dad doesn't kill you!” 

------

November 30th 2467 Touya: aged sixteen You: aged fifteen

You speak at Touya’s funeral. 

The third speaker of the ceremony, having been urged on by Fuyumi and Natsuo despite your protests, and the one to close off the day before his ashes were taken home. You tried not to cry, bottom lip wobbling all day and you would have made it had you not been shoved on stage, microphone held to your face as you unfolded the crumpled sheet you had stuffed into the pocket of your coat.

The rest of the day was a blur as was the week,  then the month and only after six full months of grieving daily, crying god only knows how much, did you finally start to see the light at the top of the hole you had buried yourself in but unlike the times you and Touya would play together, his warm hand wasn’t there to help you back up.

------

January 4th 2477 Touya: aged sixteen You: aged twenty-five

You think about Touya Todoroki often.

How your best friend had been killed in some freak accident. How despite his father rushing into the flames to save his son, had come out unscathed yet all that was found was Touya’s jaw bone. It didn’t make sense and you had driven yourself crazy with theories surrounding his death. It was an accident, they had all said. Even if it was an accident, Enji Todoroki was not innocent.

You think about the kind of man Touya could have been if he had lived, what kind of hero he would have become. How he would save the day then turn and smile at his adoring fans, blue eyes blazing bright with pride. You often think about his eyes, remembering how they softened whenever he would smile at you, brighten as you offered half of whatever snack bar you had that day. You think about him enough that you think you’re going crazy when you look up into the eyes of a stranger and see Touya staring back at you.

"Touya?" you whisper as you stare at the strange man.

You had walked headfirst into their chest while crossing the dark street, ducking under awnings to avoid the winter rain. Hoping to cut ten minutes from your usual walk home, desperate to beat your roommate home and into the warm embrace of your apartment’s limited hot water, you took the risk of walking down the alley; what you weren’t hoping for was to bump into your best friend’s dead brother. There was no way it was him, maybe he was a distant Todoroki. Enji did seem like the type to spread it around so maybe a few illegitimate children were running around with the eyes of Endeavour.

His hand reaches out to grab your arm, nails digging into your exposed flesh. You want to wince, to cringe away from him but something within you is telling you to hold your ground. The stranger pulls you closer, all false bravado leaving you as you realise what’s about to happen. Your body tenses, hands uselessly curling into fists at your side.

"Who the fuck are you?" a harsh whisper cuts through the quiet patter of rain.

The hand your arm tightens when you take too long to respond. 

“I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else.” Your answer whooshes from you, all air leaving your body in a single sentence.

The stranger ducks his head to get closer to yours and you turn your face away, afraid to look into the face of the man who had the eyes of a long-lost love. This had to be some sort of joke, right? You were not about to be assaulted by a guy who had Touya’s eyes, there was no way the universe was that cruel.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to I’m sorry, please.” Hot tears roll over your cheeks, your bottom lip quivering as you fight the frown wanting to form. You were not above begging despite knowing it wouldn’t do any good, if there was some way to get out of this situation alive and unscathed, you were going to try it. 

“Hey,” the stranger calls to you, shaking you gently. “Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you.” 

Great, he’s playing mind games now. You’ve seen enough true crime to know that there are no good people left in the world, especially the ones who lurk in alleyways.

A cold hand reaches out and grips your chin, lifting your face to his. The gesture is intimate, gentle and familiar.

“I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean anything by it. I'm sorry, I-“You’re sobbing now. 

“Look at me” he interrupts, fingers tightening on your cheeks.

He repeats his order when your gaze doesn’t move.

You sniffle, blink back tears that refuse to stop coming, and focus your attention on the man before you.

“I’m not going to hurt you so stop crying,” his voice is soft.

The hand that was on your arm now cups your cheek, thumb brushing away the tears that coat your cheeks. His skin is rough and warm, but there is a bite of something cold on his palm. He holds you with such tenderness you feel a tug at your heart not for any feelings towards the stranger but because you had never been held like this before. That a complete stranger who was probably a crazy psycho villain was holding you with the care you hold a baby animal with.

“I need you to stop crying and answer me, can you do that?” he asks, nodding as his thumb continues to brush over your cheek. 

You nod, taking in a shaky breath. 

“Good girl.” Heat floods your cheeks. “Now, why is a pretty girl like you walking alone at night?” he asks softly.

You blink up at him, surprised at the switch in demeanour. 

“I just finished work and this is shortcut.” you don’t have time to come up with an elaborate lie. “I’m really sorry about the whole name thing, you just look like a friend who died and I thought that maybe he wasn’t actually- I’m sorry” You feel the tears welling up again. 

“Well, he’s not me.” He sighs, removing his hands from your face. You kind of miss the warmth they had. “I’m sorry you lost someone, but I don’t think accusing strangers of being dead people is a good idea.”

You nod wordlessly, too stunned at his shift in tone to formulate a response. The man reaches up for the hood of your raincoat, pulling it over your head tight to shield you from the rain. 

“I need one more thing from you okay?” he asks, ducking his head to look into your eyes. “You gonna listen to me again?” 

“Okay.” Your voice shakes. 

“Don’t mention that name to anyone else, alright?” 

He waits for your nod and then releases your hood. “You’re such a good listener” The fact he is praising you has your heart spinning. Wasn’t he ready to attack you a few minutes ago?

“Now go home” he nods his head to the exit of the alleyway. You follow his nod and look back at the light-filled street. “And don’t walk down backstreets anymore, you could get hurt.” 

By the time you turn back to face him, he is already halfway down the alleyway arms raised in a farewell. You watch as he turns the corner and only when he is gone do you let yourself breathe. ------

March 6th 2477 Touya: aged sixteen You: aged twenty-five

"Let it go, dude," Natsuo sighs for the umpteenth time as he packs his books away. "You're lucky you didn't get hurt. He could have been a complete psycho."

Your friend is right and has been every other time you have brought up the strange man from the alley and you can tell by the way he shoves the textbooks into his backpack that his patience is running thin. Over the years, you had grown closer to Natsuo, looking at him like a little brother who you could force to hang out with and do things Fuyumi didn't want to. Unfortunately for him, he was the first person you called upon meeting the stranger (Knowing Fuyumi would have had a heart attack upon hearing about your encounter). Initially, Natsuo was concerned, terrified for your physical and mental wellbeing even going so far as to suggest letting his father know about the incident to launch a formal investigation but you were quick to shut that down. You hadn’t been hurt and the man didn’t seem to be skulking in alleyways to assault anyone so there is no reason you should get heroes involved.

"Dude, he looked so familiar! I know him," you press on, hands splayed on the library table as you lean in as if you were about to reveal a secret. "I think he was a childhood friend."

You had purposefully omitted the fact the stranger bore a striking resemblance to his dead brother or how his entire aura radiated familiarity and warmth something you only really felt from said brother.

Natsuo laughs and zips his bag closed. " 'Yumi was your only childhood friend."

"Fine, a neighbour, maybe I don't know, but I know him."

"Should I schedule you with my family psych, or will this fade by next month?" You frown at Natsu, sigh, and then give in to his pronounced lack of interest.

"I don't need to see anyone because I know I'm right," you start to pack up your things. "But, just for you, I won't mention it again."

------

May 17th 2477 Touya: aged sixteen You: aged twenty-five

You feel stupid.

Really fucking stupid.

So monumentally stupid with every single decision that has led you to this moment. Led you to stand before a thick metal door, the sliding peephole pulled back to allow the man guarding the entry a view as to who knocked like some girl scout. The box of cookies in your hands does nothing to evade that image.

“I have a meeting with…Dabi?” you look down at your phone, squinting at the blurry name on your screen then back to the man guarding whatever was in that building. “I think.”

You have no idea if you’re being set up. If the person you had been corresponding with was the infamous villain or just some poser but what you have deduced from your months long investigation is that you had in fact met Dabi in that alleyway so whether it was him or not you were about to meet, he is your only lead into finally figuring out what exactly happened to Touya

“You think?” You hear the smirk in his voice at the uncertainty in yours. “I think you might have the wrong door, sweetheart.”

It is the right door. The creepy encrypted message you received gave you this very location with the exact time to arrive. This was a giant risk on your behalf. Trusting strangers on the internet to give you accurate information as opposed to being lured into a trap for human trafficking but the need to know more about the mysterious man you had met weeks ago was gnawing at your insides so much that you were more need than person. The hunt had begun with a very broad search into Touya’s death and the records surrounding the tragedy before very quickly veering into villain records and archives. There was a small lead with a hospital admittance for an unidentified burn victim in a hospital a prefecture over from Tokyo but that went cold when the body of the patient was identified two weeks post mortem through dental records. You had all but given up when a weird email in your spam box caught your eye. It was from an unknown sender, hence the immediate spam allocation, and had nothing but a link to a chat site. There is no amount in the universe to quantify the stupidity in your subsequent actions from clicking the link to chatting with the stranger on the other side of the screen but they had the information you wanted and so you followed their instructions to a bookstore, then a bar and then finally an internet café where you logged into the already open discord chat that had the location of the final meeting point. You quickly snapped a picture of the chat before it disappeared and three days later, here you stand in a deserted alleyway surrounded by boarded-up doors and graffitied walls.

“This is the address I was given.” You explain, holding up the phone so the guy can get a look at the message. “I promise I'm not with the police or anything, I just have some questions for Dabi and I know that makes me sound like I’m a police officer but I’m not and I’ve been looking for him for weeks so please, let me in.”

Your mouth sets in a frown and despite wanting to look intimidating and rough, you know you look like a child pouting in an attempt to get more cake. “Please, I’ll give you some cookies if you want.” A shitty bribe but a bribe nonetheless.

The man snorts. “You really have cookies in that box?”

“Yes. Fresh and homemade made and some of them can be yours if you let me in” You wiggle the box.

There is a beat of silence then the sliding peephole slams shut.

Fuck.

You close your eyes, disappointed in the fact you had come so far only to be shut down by some guy behind a door. Maybe this was the universe stepping in and preventing you from getting killed or trafficked. Maybe you should let this whole thing go.

Just as the last of your hope leaves you, you hear the click of a lock and then the door is sliding open. The man who you had been speaking to not ten seconds ago stands before you, muscular tattooed arms crossed over his equally muscular chest.

“Choc chip?” he asks, eyes trained on the box in your hand.

You nod.

“Fine, come in” The man tilts his head in a gesture to welcome you in. “Leave some on the counter.”  

You nod again, your pace quick as you enter the building beyond the door.

The hallway is dim and damp, filled with cardboard and wooden crates stacked along the walls. The ceilings are high with exposed piping and hanging fluorescent bars that would have once lit up the entire walkway. Light bleeds beneath the many doors that line the hall, muted sounds following the flashes of colour that leak from the closed-off rooms. The smell is unpleasant, with mildew and mould growing along every available surface but what did you expect a dirty unoccupied building to smell like?

“Where’s the?” you turn to ask about the counter, but the man has disappeared. The door slides shut caging you in from the outside world, from an escape if need be. “Hello?” you call out and take a step back, dried leaves crunching beneath your feet.

Fuck. Fuck.

You turn on your heels, heading for the door you had stepped through a few seconds ago but are stopped by a familiar voice.

“Did you really bring me cookies?”

You whirl, fingers tightening on the box between them. “Yes, but if you don’t want them, it’s okay. I just thought that I might-“

You watch as the man you had met weeks before steps into the dim light. Breath catches in your throat as you are met with the face of the villain that has filled your screen for weeks now.

Dabi.

He is taller than you remember. Towering a full foot over you, his intimidating figure looms in the dim light. Your eyes follow the line of his scarred skin over his cheeks, down his neck, over exposed collarbones before disappearing beneath the neck of his shirt. Heat fills your face at your wandering gaze and you’re thankful for the lack of lighting.

“Who says I don’t want cookies?” Dabi smirks, taking a step out of the shadows.

“No one.” your answer is a broken stammer, earning a bemused snicker from your companion.

You take in a breath and square your shoulders. “I just don’t want to accuse you of anything.” A better delivery.

The villain hums and takes another step closer. “So, it is you then.”

Another foot closer, and when you don’t back away, one more. His steps are careful; small and reserved as if trying not to frighten you anymore than you already are. The routine is repeated, a hesitant dance of pushing proximity limits until he is less than a foot away. Blue eyes narrowed on you, brows furrowed in intrigue. Same blue as before. Same blue eyes as Touya.

His apprehension and fascination leave as quickly as it came, and you're left staring at a man who looks as if he wants nothing more to do with you.

“So, pretty girl, what can I do for you?” tone casual, pet name rolling off his tongue effortlessly. “You’ve gone through all this trouble to what?”

The thought of lying did cross your mind on your way over but you had already jumped through enough loops to get this meeting, you aren’t in the mood to play games and risk his irritation.

“I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Dabi tilts his head to the side the way an animal does to hear better. There is something so unsettling about the he moves, something not entirely human.

“Talk about what, angel?” his eyes blaze blue as he notices the twitch in your lips at the byname. “About the league? About you? Me?”

“About you.”

Heat pools in your stomach at his affectionate pet name, embarrassment following suit. You should not be letting him get to you the way he is, but it could also be a good bargaining chip. If you couldn’t afford his services monetarily, physical payment would not be entirely painful.

“We can talk about me but first, I want to ask you something.”

“Sure.” The false confidence you had summoned before has not left you yet.

The insincerity of your act is palpable, but Dabi lets you go, lets you take this small win.

“How long did it take you to find me?” his question is genuine, interested in just how exclusive access to him is.

An exhausted sigh leaves your body at the mention of the time that you had put into locating him and his lips quirk at the gesture.

“Four months and 2 weeks, I think.”

An irrationally long time but there are questions that demanding answers.

“So, you’ve spent almost five months thinking about me?” he taunts.

Me. The emphasis on the pronoun doesn’t evade you but you don’t have time to dwell on his excitement.

“Yes. And now I’ve answered two of your questions, can I ask one?”

Dabi shrugs and reaches for the box in your hands. Rough fingers brush against the back of your hands, goosebumps skittering over your skin at the contact. He takes his time opening the small white box, bottom lip pulled between his teeth in contemplation at the contents before him and after a full minute of silent deliberation, does he pick one. Slender unscarred fingers dig into the box, fishing out the biggest and most chocolate filled treat.

“Did you make these?” Dabi holds up the choc chip cookie, inspecting the biscuit in the low light.

“That’s three questions now.” you announce as the unofficial score keeper. “and yes, I made them this morning.”

The making of the desserts had been a coping mechanism on your part. Too nervous to sit still but not so overstimulated you were willing to exercise to shake off the extra energy, you turned to an activity you hadn’t touched since university. The recipe was one you know by heart, having it gifted to you by your mother on your eighteenth birthday, you were free to think as your body worked through the motions. However, the purpose behind you baking said sweets was not entirely self-soothing.

Dabi nods and bites into the biscuit.

“I know you already said you don’t know the guy I mentioned when I first met you and I haven’t mentioned him to anyone again just like you asked me, and I figured with you being a villain, you might have connections that I don’t have and you can access more information as to what happened to him and I promise that I can pay. I’ll pay whatever you want but I don’t really have that much but I’ll pay in food, and that’s kinda why I brought some cookies to show that I can bake but that will only be a small amount because I’m good for a couple thousand-“ you reach into your back pocket to fish out your wallet. “I promise, I won't ever mention this to anyone, but I just really need your help, Dabi.” The juxtaposition of your pastel purple Kuromi wallet holding thousands of dollars as payment for a villain’s services almost makes you chuckle but the lack of recognition from your companion causes you to pocket the purse.

Dabi’s stare is unamused as he chews.

“Why is this guy so important to you?” he asks around a mouthful of chocolate. “You’re willing to blow thousands on some dead guy, not to mention you’ve risked your life coming here, so why is he so special?”

Your fingers curl into a fist, nails digging into your palm before you relax and answer.

“Because he died in a really weird way, and I need to know if there was anything I could have done to prevent it.”

“That’s a stupid reason.” Dabi spits out.

A frown tugs at your mouth.

“He’s dead. Who cares how he died and whether you could stop it or not.” He continues, rolling his eyes as your pout forms. “What’s the real reason you’re looking for answers? There’s something else.”

“It’s stupid.” You mutter, suddenly embarrassed at the reasoning for your investigation.

“Ohh, it can’t be that stupid if you’ve put all this effort in.” Dabi croons. “Come on, angel. You’ve gotta tell me why if I’m gonna do all this work looking for him.”

You take in a deep breath in hopes of smothering the tears that are threatening to spill but the lump sticking in your throat has other plans.

“Because he was my best friend and I loved him and I never got to say goodbye.” You sniff, nose starting to run as the tears build. “Please.”

Dabi stares at you.

“You made these?” the question comes out of left field.

You blink at the villain, unaware as to where he is taking the conversation but answer him nonetheless.

“Yes, I did. It’s stupid I know, bringing cookies as a bargaining chip but I-“

“Your mom’s cookies are better.”  Dabi interrupts.

My what? My mom?

“What?”

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry but your mom’s cookies will always be the best.”

Your jaw slackens as you stare at the man before you.

“My mother?”

“Yes. Your mom made better cookies and it’s not for lack of trying, yours are really good but they’ll never beat your moms.”

Is he fucking with you? Is this some elaborate psychological warfare that he enacted on all his victims? Are you about to die? How does he know about your mother’s cookies?

“Aww, don’t get upset Chihiro. I'm just being honest.”

The nickname rattles your soul.

Touya.

Before you can even register that you are moving, you have crossed the space between your bodies and swung at the villain.

Your clenched fist collides with his jaw, surprising him out of his teasing. Arms wrap around your waist as you collapse against the villain. Your knees break the fall, bones screaming out in pain as they slam into the concrete, and you brace for further impact but it never comes. There is a moment when you truly believe you are going to be killed, incinerated into nothing but ash for your assault but nothing happens and so you are left with no other choice but to get answers from the man under you. There is no clear choice as to why you chose violence, some primal part within you acting out of instinct. There isn’t enough time for you brain to catch up or even process that information that had been thrown at you. . In most high pressure situations, you would retreat inwards and carefully unpack each and every detail of the occurrence like you were a kid under a Christmas tree; not a package left untouched, but you don’t have that luxury in the current moment.

Hot fat tears stream down your face as you grip Dabi’s cheeks in your hand, his skin rough beneath your fingers.

“You’ve been alive this whole time?” you cry, fingers digging into the gaunt flesh and when no answer comes you ask again, the palm of your hand connecting6 with his cheek in a sharp slap. “You left me to think you were dead, but you’ve been alive?”

Below you, the villain stares up in disbelief. Eyes wide at the mad woman above him, screeching like a banshee let loose. His thin shirt is scrunched tightly between your fingers, pulling the material taunt against his body. You have no control over your actions, feral and bowing to your emotions. You watch as your hand slips to his neck, pushing at the base of his throat.

Finger wraps around your wrist, pulling your weight off his windpipe and then the world shifts.

You are flipped over as easily as a leaf in the wind. Now on your back, the dust that had been kicked up from the floor sticks in your lungs and you cough as you cry.

Dabi hovers above you. Legs on either side of your hips, hands pinning yours above your head preventing you from causing any more harm to him. You try to kick, to wrench your hands from his grasp, throw him off you with your hips but nothing. You fight back against your opponent, teeth gnashing as you desperately try to find purchase on skin but he has done this too many times before to leave anything to chance. All points of access to an injury on his behalf are sealed up, held high above you and there is nothing you can do to reach.

Your cries are loud and deep and aching. Air leaves you with each heaving sob and you fear you may never breathe again. Spit and tears mix in a hot mess across your cheeks and you would wipe away the mess if not for your hands held above.

“I hate you so much.” You seethe, teeth clenched as you breathe in. “I fucking hate you.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You hear Dabi apologising over and over again.

A hand brushes over your forehead, then your cheeks, then your jaw.

“You left me.” You wail. “You left me there, all alone.”

Your chest heaves, air being gulped down as if you had been held underwater to the point of drowning and it felt like you had been. You had been held under for so many years and now you were getting a moment of air, and your brain could not process it. 

You take a few more breaths, calming the blood roaring in your ears and pounding heart and finally when your breathing returns to a semi-acceptable rhythm, do you finally acknowledge the man above you.

Dabi glides his palm along your jaw, thumb brushing over your cheekbone before resting his fingers along the side of your neck.

“I’m so sorry.”

A frown pulls at the corners of his mouth.

There is no longer a villain before you. Dabi does not exist. The boy above you is Touya. Your Touya.

You knew it. You knew it was him all along.

“Is it really you?” your voice is hoarse from crying.

“If I answer, you need to promise to keep it a secret,” he whispers, free hand curling in the ends of your hair that lay splayed out beneath you.

“Promise.” You nod and hold out your pinkie the way you did so many times as children.

Touya interlocks his pinkie with yours.

Fresh tears prick at your eyes.

“Hi, Touya,” you whisper.

“Hi.” He whispers back, hand pulling away from yours to glide over your jaw and slot into the hair at the nape of your neck. “I missed you.”

You wrap your arms around his waist and pull his body against yours in a bone-crushing hug. A laugh leaves your friend as he loops his arm around the back of your neck, holding you close. You pull back, face now centimetres from him and wait for him to make the next move. Your body follows his breaths, following his lead just the way you would follow him all those years ago. A lump forms in your throat and you know you look insane; hair mused, cheeks flushed and soaked in tears, eyes still red and crying.

Touya closes the distance, mouth hovering above yours and you think he is going to kiss you but nothing comes.

“Did you really love me?”

A sob leaves you involuntarily.

“I loved you so much, you have no idea.” The truth spills from you. “I love you so much.”

At the confession, Touya kisses you.

His mouth is soft on yours in the gentlest of kisses, almost as if he was afraid that you would fall apart if he pushed any harder. You part your lips to test the waters and when Touya follows your lead opening his mouth against yours, you grip onto the shirt bunched up around his waist. He lets you lead, lets you take control and set the pace for the first few minutes. Following your moves and pressure against your body to not push you any more than you already had been but as you whimper beneath him, his demeanour shifts.

Fingers tighten in your hair and the hand that had been holding himself up comes to rest on your waist, slipping beneath your body to pull you closer to him. Your mouth opens wider beneath his and you feel his tongue trace your bottom lip before flicking into your mouth. Menthol and chocolate fill your senses and you scramble for more, hands gripping his face as you desperately try to get your fill of him; of Touya. The steel of the staples bites into your palm but you don’t care, don’t care what form you have him in, you have your Touya back.

You’re being lifted off the floor, hoisted to sit on his lap, feeling the entirety of his body against yours.

You pull away to stare at him, not believing this is happening and that at any moment you are going to wake up or snap out of your delusion.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” Touya asks, eyes frantically searching for the reason you aren’t kissing him anymore.

Your chest constricts at his concern. The same sweet and caring boy you fell in love with all those years ago.

“I’m okay, I just-“You stroke his cheeks and he leans into your touch, inhaling a shaky breath. “I missed you so much. There was so much we didn’t get to do.”

He frowns and nuzzles further into your palm. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I don’t want you to apologise, I just want..” You can’t form the words. Can’t articulate the need within you for him. All these years you’ve held a torch for your deceased best friend. All these years you could have had him with you and now that you do, you aren’t letting go. “I just want you.”

Touya’s frown deepens. “Even now?”  His thumbs stroke circles along your clothed skin.

You know he is referring to his crimes. All the bad he has done and probably will do. You do not care. You had long ago abandoned your hope in the heroes of society, having been granted a look into the past of the now top hero. There is nothing for you in that world, nothing on offer that could sway your feelings for the man below you.

“Even now, and tomorrow and the day after that and yesterday and the day before and the month before that” You smile, knowing you weren’t making sense but none of this made sense. “I never forgot about you.”

Touya’s eyebrows knit together in an expression you don’t know and for a moment you panic; worried you had crossed a line that you didn’t know existed. You want to apologise, take back the words that had so carelessly tumbled out but his grip on your body stops you.

“I never stopped thinking about you,” he sighs, hands sliding up to press into the small of your back.

“Really?” you beam, unable to stifle the excitement that grows in you at his confession.

You are no longer an adult woman sitting in a dirty and dusty warehouse; you are fifteen and hearing your crush confess words you had been so desperately wishing to be spoken.

Your best friend’s fingers trailing over your spine pull you back to the present.

“Never for a single second,” he tests the waters and slips one hand under the hem of your shirt. “I never wanted to forget you.”

When no protest on your behalf comes, Touya slips his other hand beneath the material and begins to trace shapes into your skin.

“What did you think about?” your question is breathless, head beginning to swim as you feel heat bloom in your stomach.

Touya hums in thought, fingers beginning to climb your ribs. “Good things. Great things actually.” hands splay over the band of your bra. “some bad things but that isn’t important.”

Your thighs slip further apart at the implication; weight now fully resting atop his hips. There is no doubt that he can feel the heat from between your legs, the warmth that had begun to pool in the seam of your panties.

“Bad things?” you ask the question without knowing what kind of answer you would get. “I was nothing but nice to you, what bad things could you be thinking of?”

You feel his cock twitch at your innocence. Perfect.

Your answer comes in the form of an action. Touya leans forward and captures your mouth in a searing kiss. All teeth and tongue as his fingers pressed hard into your spine, holding you against his body as if you are a buoy and he is lost at sea. Your own hands begin to wander, sliding from where they came to rest on his neck, into the hair at the nape of his neck and as he digs his teeth into your bottom, you pull at the strands between your digits.

Touya pulls away, breathless.

“I always kept an eye on you, you know.” he pants, pushing your body away only enough to ogle you freely. “And I’ve gotta say you grew up so well.”

There are two thoughts that cross your mind in that spilt second. One: to bring up the fact he has kept you within his sighs for years, has been in the shadows of you life and how there is a part of you, not that big but enough to plant a seed of betrayal, that you can’t forgive him for that. Two: to throw caution to the wind and give into the part of you that aches for him.

The latter wins out.

“I did always think that Dabi was really handsome” you admit, an air of nonchalance in your words.

“Oh yeah? Even with all the new mods?”

“New mods?” you laugh. “Why do you make it sound like you’ve upgraded a game or something?”

Touya laughs with you.

“I’m serious,” vulnerability swims in his eyes as he looks up at you waiting for praise. “Do you really think that I’m still handsome?”

You nod and duck your head closer to his. “I still think you’re so handsome and you will always be handsome, which is really unfair.”

His lips are pressed against yours in a soft kiss. It's gentle and sweet, with no hint of the darkness lurking just below.

“Even after all these years how do you manage to make me so weak?” Touya pulls away to admire you.”You, my pretty girl, are my weakness.”

He tucks your hair behind your ears, holding your cheeks in his cupped hands and pulls you back in for a kiss and you melt into his touch at the possessive compliment.

“All these years, I never thought I’d get to talk to you again let alone touch you.” His mouth moves to your neck, pressing sloppy open-mouthed kisses against your skin. “but, fuck, have I thought about it.”

Your skin flushes at his confession.

His teeth sink into your neck, hard enough to leave a mark but not enough to break the skin.

“Thought about kissing you like this” his words are slurred.

Slick begins to pool in your panties, the seam of your jeans dampening.

“Thought about having you in my lap, just the way you are and how good you’d feel on my cock.”

Your head swims at his words.

“When I saw you again for the first time a few years ago, it took everything in me to not walk up to you and kiss you right there and then.” He bites lower, nipping at your collarbone.

Rough hands make their way under your shirt, exploring the expanse of your back.

“Thought about holding you and kissing you and taking you home.” he bites again. “God, the amount of time I’ve spent imagining you under me or spread out just for me.” Breathing becomes hard. “All for me, just for me.” He chants your name as if it were a prayer.

You grind your hips over his, feeling his cock hard and aching beneath you. Touya groans against your throat, fingers digging into your skin. Hands begin to wander downwards until they find purchase on the buttons of his pants, stopping at the metal for approval from the man beneath you and when it comes in a rushed yes, please you flick open the clasp. Your movements are awkward and nervous, having never thought this would happen and you can tell Touya is just as jittery. His fingers dip under the waistband of your pants, toying with the soft elastic of the band. Your hands follow his and pull at the material, trying to pull it down but stop at the realisation there is no way you could do this and still look seductive.

“I’m trying really hard to make this hot, but I don’t think it’s gonna work.” You admit, giggling at the absurdity.

Touya shakes his head, removing his hands from your hips to hold your face again. “I don’t want to fuck you here.” He presses a kiss to your nose.

Before you can ask, he is answering.

“I’m not gonna have the first time I fuck you be on a dirty floor in a random building.” A kiss on your right cheek.

“But what if I want that?” you retort, hand reaching down between the two of you.

His breath catches as your fingers brush against his clothed cock.

“I know you want that,” he pulls your hand away and entwines your fingers. “and you know I do too,” A kiss to your left cheek. “But I had a plan back when we were younger,” he brings your hand to his lips. “and I’ve already had so much taken from us that I’m not letting our first time be taken too.”

Your heart squeezes. He really is the same boy you fell in love with.

“So as much as we both want it, please let me do this, okay?”

You pout, a habit you had formed long ago that usually got you what you wanted from him.

“Please, baby.” The pet name is a gut punch.

 You nod and hold up your pinkie.

“You promise?”

Touya grins wider than you had ever seen and entwines his finger with yours.

“I promise.”

May 17th 2477 Touya: aged twenty-six You: aged twenty-five

-------

ᰔ a/n: NOT PROOFREAD! ohmygosh, this was a long haul. I wrote it and then rewrote it and then rewrote it and so on and so forth till I got here. tiny TINY smut cause i didn’t wanna write a whole ass thing so I might do a one shot of it later. this exhausted me holy- also shout out to billie eilish lmao her entire new album helped me write this mainly chihiro, the greatest and blue but also harry styles' as it was and madds buckley's brother

Blessed (1/2)- Fushiguro Megumi x fem!Reader

SPOILERs for up to ch. 235 - canon complient until then Pairing: Fushiguro Megumi x fem!Reader Genre: angst (Part 1), fluff (Part 2), hurt/comfort Word Count: 4 336 (Part 1) Warnings: death, injury, stitches, blood, pain Summary: The battle against Sukuna was won by Gojō, but now it’s up to you to save Megumi. Part Two

“Megumi!“

You stumbled through the rubble of what had once been Shinjuku. Pieces of debris were strewn around everywhere, blocking your path. Some you surrounded, some you climbed over, your heart beating painfully hard in your chest. What an irony, you thought bitterly that Megumi, whose name meant nothing other than “blessed”, had been subjected to all this torture.

The fight was over. Gojō-sensei had won over Sukuna. But Sukuna still possessed Megumi’s body. Your best friend Megumi, the one you had grown closer to than what you would call friendship at this point. It was days’ worth of sparing, study sessions in which you had sat close enough for his knee to press against yours, nights, when nightmares had driven him out of his bed, and he had come to seek comfort in yours. This was not simple friendship anymore, not the way you were friends with Yūji anyway. But you had never addressed it, and neither had he. Now it was too late.

Following the develepments of the battle on the observation screens, you had seen the damage Gojō-sensei had done to Sukuna. Now your only goal was to reach them before Megumi bled out.

There was a way to get rid of Sukuna, without killing Megumi. If you, or anyone else, had trusted your skills any earlier, you would have exorcised Sukuna from Yūji’s body like that. But now there was no time for doubts, not when Gojō-sensei’s energy was as good as drained, and Sukuna too weak to recover.

You had only a few very short minutes to manipulate Sukuna’s soul into healing Megumi’s injuries and then crumbling it to dust, killing Sukuna and hopefully keeping Megumi alive in the process. A few very short minutes before Sukuna would have gathered his strength again, and could wipe you out with less than the blink of an eye. A few very short minutes, before Gojō-sensei had the strength to do, what would be his only option: Kill Megumi to get rid of Sukuna forever.

You made it over a huge block of debris, slithering down its side, not caring about the way your trousers ripped, and the skin in your palms got torn open with your poor attempt to control your way down. But then Megumi’s motionless body came into view, and Gojō-sensei, standing only a few feet away from him.

“Megumi,” you called again, breathless, your voice an octave higher than usual, panicked.

Not paying the faintest thought to your teacher, you rushed towards Megumi, when suddenly Gojō-sensei’s pale hand shot forwards, grabbing your wrist. You halted, less from the resistance of his hand around yours, than the lack thereof. In the way Gojō’s fingers were holding onto you, you could tell just how weak he had become during the fight. He was shaking, barely enough strength left to keep his weak hold on your wrist, the cursed energy you usually had felt thrumming through him from several meters away was almost completely drained.

“Don’t-” he warned. Don’t get to close to him, we don’t know how strong he is. Don’t get too close to him, I don’t want you to get hurt.

The unspoken plea hung in the air between you, his blue eyes fixed on the back of your head as you stared at Megumi’s body, or what was left of it. His clothes were torn and bloody. Scratches and cuts and Sukuna’s violent, black marks littered his torso and arms and his beautiful face. His one hand was missing.

It felt, like all will to fight had suddenly left your body, seeing him like this. There was no way you could safe him. There was nothing you could do. You would have to let Gojō-sensei do what you had always feared would be the destiny that was bestowed upon Yūji: you had to let him execute Megumi so the world could get rid of Sukuna.

“Please-” Gojō’s voice tore through the haze that had begun dulling your senses. It was heavy with pain, weak with exhaustion. And enough to startle you back into the moment.

With a quick motion you drew your hand out of your teacher’s grasp, using more force than needed, putting a small amount of cursed energy into it too, just to spite Gojō, before you closed the last steps and dropped down beside the bruised and beaten body of the boy you held so close to your heart.

But it was not Megumi, who looked back at you. It was a dark and ancient evil, now temporarily too weak to protest, when you collected all your courage and reached out, pressing your palm against a bloody and sweaty forehead.

You felt Sukuna’s soul immediately. It recoiled at your touch, and while the skin under your fingers was almost freezingly cold, Sukuna’s soul burnt as hot as the centre of a star. It didn’t just burn though. It was burnt. You felt the wounds Gojō had inflicted, littered over the metaphysical body of Sukuna’s soul, felt the pain, the agony and terror he was in. The terror was not directed towards Gojō, whose soul you felt standing directly behind you. It was directed towards you, towards what you would be able to do to him.

At the realization of Sukuna’s fear of you, sudden confidence surged through your veins, and quickly you grabbed the remains of what once had been the most powerful sorcerer on earth.

Heal him. It was a command, spoken without words. A direct link from your soul to Sukuna’s, and when you opened your eyes, you saw how the first cuts on Megumi’s familiar face began closing. You forced Sukuna’s last energy into healing that which he had destroyed, and to keep him from dying before Megumi was fully healed, you fed into the healing process with your own cursed energy, acting like a battery for the tool Sukuna had become in your goal to restore Megumi’s body. You felt the sorcerer’ soul wring and whimper under the control you held over it, the sensation not unfamiliar from all the times you had done it with curses before, but even now you felt the power which Sukuna had once held. The part of you that was not glowing white with rage, the part of you, which you had inherited from ancestors so long ago that they had shared food with dinosaurs, this part cowered in fear. But you didn’t. You squeezed tighter, tasting blood on your tongue and the pain and fear Sukuna was radiating. It took you a moment to understand that the blood you tasted was your own, a nosebleed from the sudden exhaustion of draining your cursed energy into healing Megumi.

The unexpected touch of a hand on your shoulder startled you, but not enough to lose focus on the task at hand. You knew it was Gojō, you had felt the same touch hundreds of times, whenever he placed his hand on your shoulder to reprimand you or to calm you down. But you would not be reprimanded this time, would not calm down. Not until Sukuna had healed Megumi, not until Sukuna was dead, not until your friend was safe.

But the scolding you expected never came. Instead, you felt Gojō-sensei pouring his cursed energy into you, fuelling the process you had started. You did not dare look, but from the strain it put on your body, you knew, Megumi’s hand had probably about halfway grown back already. With Gojō-sensei acting as a second power source the process sped up dramatically, while you made sure to keep complete control over Sukuna, who began begging, pleas you only felt, as your soul had tapped into his, holding him down and making sure he was always just one last drop of cursed energy away from crumbling entirely. It felt strange, feeling the now drained power of Sukuna on the one end, and Gojō’s seemingly endless but weakened energy on the other. You felt like a threat in a lightbulb docked into a socket with too much voltage, just a second away from burning out.

“Yūji, leave.”

Gojō’s voice sounded far away, dimmed, like you had cotton in your ears, and the voice that answered, not at all louder, but unmistakably Yūji’s was as stubborn as you felt.

“Are you going to kill Sukuna?”

There was a pause you wanted to fill, wished you had the resources left to tell Yūji: What do you think we’re doing here? Cuddling?

But you were too weak. All your focus was on Sukuna healing Megumi, and slowly but surely the realization that this might very well kill you settled in. You had always expected to be scared in the face of death, but you had evaded it so many times now, and dying to kill the worst evil in history, dying to save your friend, that sounded like a fair way to go out.

It was Gojō who eventually answered.

“He’s never gonna kill anybody ever again.”

“How do I help?”

The moment a second hand, smaller and warmer than the first, landed on your other shoulder, you felt like the threat in the lightbulb you were, started glowing, dangerously close to burning out all at once. A few seconds later you could feel the strange smoothness that told you Megumi’s body had been completely healed, and instead focused you last conscious thoughts on one thing and one thing alone: Crushing Sukuna’s soul.

But this was not your job to do. It hadn’t been you, whose life had been turned upside down by Sukuna.

“Yūji-“

It was but a gasp that left your lips but Yūji understood nonetheless. While healing Megumi, Sukuna had been the tool that had been handled by you, with Gojō and Yūji acting as batteries for cursed energy. Now it was you, who would be handled by Yūji as the tool to destroy Sukuna, Gojō continuing to fuel you, even though you could feel that he was reaching his limit. You had stepped over yours a long time ago, and you knew that you would have to pay a high price for it.

Sukuna’s soul began shivering underneath the burned flesh of the wounds Gojō had inflicted. Its pleas turned into threats and then into screams. You felt Yūji’s grip on Sukuna tightening, felt the force with which he closed his wrist around the curse and squeezed, squeezed, squeezed.

Your body was burning up with the pain Sukuna radiated. You felt it all, felt his consciousness wither and crumble as Yūji used your abilities to wring the life from him, felt the fear, the anger, the rage in Sukuna. The part of you that always believed in the good in people tried searching for anything that might bring Sukuna comfort in his last seconds. But you came up empty, there was nothing in his soul but the endless darkness.

You knew your nose was dripping blood down your face, tasted the iron on your tongue, knew your screams were piercing the eerie silence of the destroyed Shinjuku as your body reacted to what your soul was subjected to-

And then it was over. With one deafening crush that nobody could hear but you, Sukuna was dead.

You had felt souls dying countless times before. Sometimes they sizzled out, like the last embers of a bonfire that got extinguished with a glass of water, other times they popped like a balloon pricked with a needle. But Sukuna's soul was different. It started contracting, pulling in, further and further, like a neutron star that began collapsing in on itself. The moment you began feeling the pull of it, you knew what was to follow. Exactly like with the astronomical object, Sukuna's soul would collapse and collapse until it suddenly would invert and instead blow up, not on a physical but a metaphysical scale, the level on which your soul was connected to Sukuna’s. And when his soul blew up like a supernova, it would take all souls connected to it along with it. That meant Megumi's soul, which was still buried in his body somewhere, that meant your soul. That also meant Gojō-sensei's and Yūji’s souls; since you had tapped into theirs to be able to process their cursed energy.

You knew the explosion was inevitable, and you knew that there was no time to draw back from what just a split second ago had been Sukuna. If you did nothing, everyone would die. You had lost too much already; you couldn't lose your only friends and your teacher too. So you did the only thing you could think off in that split second that was left between the moment of Sukuna's death and the inevitable supernova: You wrapped around the collapsing soul, hoping that when it blew up, you would absorb enough of the set free energy to protect the others.

For a moment an unwelcome voice asked what Megumi would say when he woke up and realized that you had sacrificed your life for his, Yūji’s and your teacher’s. He'd be devastated, especially after what had happened to his sister. You wondered if what Yūji had told you all these hours ago held any truth at all. Just before Gojō-sensei had gone to face off against Sukuna, Yūji had told you that Megumi had confessed to having fallen in love with you. Was that true, did Megumi really cared for you? What would have been different, if you had not been too much of a coward to hide your feelings from him and instead had been honest? Would he have reciprocated your feelings? Would that have changed the outcome of this fight?

The remains of Sukuna's soul grew heavier and heavier, shrinking and increasing in density, and you tightened your hold around it. You could feel that it was almost over, and as scared and in pain as you were, you tried reaching out to Megumi's soul. You felt it lingering, somewhere deep, buried away, still passive, and asleep, oblivious to the battle that raged on, that was almost over now.

You sent a thought to Megumi, not sure if he could perceive it, that you had always admired him, and that you wished you could have saved not just him, but his sister too. And yourself. For his sake. You waited for an echo, a reply of any sort, but his soul stayed quiet, a deep blue, darker even than his mesmerizing eyes, cold, untouchable, and unaware. If your soul could have sighed, it would have.

You had tried. Maybe Yūji would tell Megumi eventually about what you had confessed to him when you had been watching the ongoing fight. He had noticed your hands clenching so hard into your seat, that your nails had almost splintered, had picked up on the way your eyes followed Sukuna as if you could kill him and save Megumi by merely looking at him through the screen. And when he had asked, quietly under his breath if what you felt for Megumi was love not on a platonic but a romantic level, you had not denied. Maybe he would share his knowledge when everything was over, when your soul had absorbed all of  the energy set free by Sukuna's death and got torn to pieces. When the others got saved, when Megumi woke up. If Megumi woke up. Right now, his soul was but a deep blue hole of pain and unconsciousness.

And then there was a stir, a shimmer of bright blue in the deep, as if your thoughts had reached him, like waking from a deep dream, Megumi's soul began to shift and shimmer and-

It was over quicker than your quickened perception could follow. One moment Sukuna had been there, the next he was dead, the remains of his soul collapsing and your soul wrapping around it to protect the others, all in the fraction of a split second, and then there was nothing left but the searing pain of your soul getting blown away by what once had been Sukuna.

-

People were hurrying past left and right, dizzying Megumi, and if he hadn’t known his way around Shinjuku station, he would have been hopelessly lost. Annoyed he furrowed his brows, stepping out of the way of an old man, who almost had run into him. How did Gojō imagine Megumi could find this new student with no further specification of the meeting place than “Shinjuku Station”? The station was bigger than a small village, tunnels leading to the subway and connecting subway stations into all directions, several million people passing through each day.

Megumi stepped closer to a column, getting on his tiptoes, and trying to look over the crowd. How was he supposed to find someone who he didn’t even know what they liked like in a place like this? Where would he go if he had been new to Tokyo and thrust into this situation? A pit began growing in Megumi’s stomach as he realised, he would be completely and entirely lost. What kind of evil prank was Gojō trying to pull on that new student, sending them into one of the biggest stations in the world with the promise to get picked up, only for them to realise earlier or later that without a more precise meeting point they’d be lost in the maze that was Shinjuku station. And beyond the exits of it waited Tokyo, vast with its skyscrapers, the busy streets and the crowds of people who all seemed to know exactly where they were going. Gojō really didn’t seem very set on making a good first impression.

Megumi pushed away from the pillar he had leant against and let himself drift away in the crowd. He was not sure where he was going, just following wherever his feet seemed determined to carry him. His eyes skipped over the people before him, those pushing past, those following their daily routine in the morning buzz of the city. Sudden doubt overcame him, but instead of stopping and turning into another direction, he kept walking, following an instinct his brain could not decipher.

A pair of eyes met his, and confused Megumi stopped in his track, just as the other person, a young woman, about his age, had done. Other people streamed past him and her as they stared at each other from a distance, the eye contact again and again interrupted by the other commuters walking between them. It felt like half an eternity that Megumi was frozen in place in the middle of Shinjuku station, taking in the features of the girl who was staring back at him. Even from afar he could make out the sparkle in her eyes, that now doubtfully observed him. Strands of hair were sticking out from underneath the hat she wore to keep warm on the cold December morning. The scarf around her neck matched the hat and underlined her features gently. She was beautiful, Megumi noted, but not in the traditional, socially celebrated sense, but rather in a timeless sense, as if she could be thrown in any era and always be considered beautiful, a quiet, unintrusive beauty.

Eventually it was her, who took the first step, breaking the strange moment of contemplation they had shared. Megumi met her in the middle, only stopping when they stood almost chest to chest to not drift apart in the crowd.

“Are you Gojō Satoru,” she asked, having to speak loudly over the murmur of the station. “I was told, I’d get picked up by him…”

Her voice was soothing, Megumi thought, the vowels softly rolling of her tongue, and for a moment he was so focused on the sound of her voice, that he almost didn’t answer her question.

Quickly finding back into the moment, he shook his head.

“Gojō-sensei is my teacher. I’m Fushiguro Megumi,” he introduced himself. “I’m in my third year of middle school, but I’ll start at the Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu Senmon Gakkō in April.”

The girl in front of him nodded, her features softening into what he realised was relief. Apparently she had been just as stressed about finding him here in Shinjuku as he had imagined her to be.

“I’m (y/n),” she answered. “I think we’re going to start Jujutsu High together. It’s nice to meet you. And thank you so much for coming to pick me up.”

She bowed, and Megumi could not help but notice how precise the gesture was, like straight from a schoolbook. Whoever had educated her, must have been very proud of what a diligent student she seemed to be.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Megumi replied, answering her gesture of a bow with one of his own. Except he was aware that his execution of the same was not nearly as neat as hers. “I’m sorry Gojō-sensei didn’t specify the meeting place any further.”

“I must admit, I did feel a little lost,” she laughed, the sound making Megumi steal a glance at her. She was even more beautiful when she smiled. “But you found me in the end, so it’s all good.”

Megumi nodded, quickly averting his eyes from her face as not to make her uncomfortable with the way he had been watching her laugh. “Right,” he agreed, only half convinced, and determined to have a word with his guardian later about how to plan meeting spots. “Let me help you with your luggage.”

He quickly reached for the handle of the suitcase she had pulled to her side, a travel bag wrapped around the handle, while she carried a smaller backpack over her shoulder.

“Oh, that’s fine, please don’t bother,” she denied, but Megumi shook his head.

“You must’ve had a long journey, please-“

She glanced up at him, before hesitantly letting go of the handle of the suitcase, letting Megumi take a hold of it instead. The plastic was still warm where her fingers had wrapped around it.

“We need to go this way,” he gestured, but as he took the first step into the direction of the train line that would carry him and the girl out of the heart of the city and closer towards Jujutsu High, a sudden pain ignited around his left wrist, and with a hiss he let go of the handle of your suitcase. Irritated he looked down on his hand, try to spot the cause of the pain, then the handle of the suitcase. But the suitcase was gone, and so was the crowd of commuters.

Furrowing his brows in alarm, he looked up. The people were gone, only leaving him and you, you who he knew so much better than he had that first day he had come to pick you up from the train station. At his side you were dressed in the school uniform of Jujutsu High, your hands tightened into tense fists, but unlike his gaze, yours was not flitting around the suddenly empty station, the white ceiling, the colourful markings for the different train and subway lines. Your gaze was instead fixed entirely on him.

“Megumi-” your voice was urgent, laced with panic and desperation. Quickly Megumi turned to you, instinctively closing the distance between you and placing both hand at your shoulders. Another wave of pain raced through his left hand, but this time he ignored it, distracted by the look on your face, one of pain and sadness.

“What’s wrong,” he asked, bending down closer to your face, as if he could read the answer to his question in your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, “I’m sorry for all you had to go through, for not having gotten rid of Sukuna any earlier, for not having been able to save Tsumiki, for-”

“What are you talking about,” he asked, gently shaking you, hoping to tear you out of whatever trance you had fallen into all of a sudden.

“I’m so sorry, Megumi,” you repeated, tears rising into your eyes.

Panic was slowly but surely taking over Megumi. Why were you crying? None of the things you said made any sense! What was he supposed to do now? Should he hug you? Continue to ask what was wrong?

But before he could decide, another lightning of pain shot through his hand, so strong this time, that he stumbled back and clutched it to his chest. When he looked back up at you, your appearance had changed again. Your hair was dishevelled now, its shimmer dimmed with dust. Scratches littered your face, all of them angry and red, and fresh blood was running out of your nose, dripping from your lips. Your eyes were bloodshot, your clothes torn in places and dusty, your jacket stained with drops of blood..

“(Y/n),” Megumi gasped, stepping forwards again, wanting to take hold of you, but this time you were faster, grabbing his lower arms instead.

“You need to wake up.”

Irritated Megumi shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

“Megumi,” the urgency in your voice was so thick, Megumi felt like he could cut it with a knife. “You need to wake up.”

Your voice echoed back from the walls, seeming to grow louder, joined by another voice, a familiar voice, one Megumi had been not sure he would ever hear again. Hopefully he lifted his eyes away from your face, looking up and down the empty corridor in search for Gojō, whose voice had joined the echoes of yours in their strange plea. But the hallway was empty except for you and Megumi, so he turned back to you.

Up close he could see the dark circles under your eyes, how fallen in your cheeks were, how your skin seemed to have lost all its glow. He leant in, intending to wrap his arms around you. He wanted to help, he wanted to wipe that look of despair off your face, but you held him at an arm’s length instead.

“You need to wake up,” you repeated. “Wake up.”

Part Two

req: ( @rainn-zy ) Have a nice day Moona! Could I ask for a scenario where Itachi and fem reader have their first time in the dark, and then wake up together seeing each other without their clothes on?( I think this is kind of NFSW and SFW?) Anyway, thanks for your attention! Maybe I'm confused or misspelled, English is not my language Beijoos!🇧🇷🍡 (dangos because Itachi likes it)

this is 4.5k long so separate post for my own sanity. also, I went insane while writing this bc I was trying SO hard to convey the cluelessness and the awkwardness of a first time whilst trying to keep it sweet. pls sedate me ❤️.

warnings: NSFW, minors do not fucking interact. fem!reader, loss of virginity (for both), explicit consent, you guide itachi on how to touch your pussy ig, creampie, itachi doesn't last rip him king you tried, you still come tho don't worry, overstimulation (itachi receiving), he activates sharingan. everything under cut!

•••

itachi is a man who's praised and prized for his knowledge, for his capability. he can read his enemies' every move, predict every twist of a battle, every outcome of a plan– always two, three steps ahead.

but here and now, all of that has no use– not when you are on his lap, pressing slow yet deep kisses on his lips that send shivers down his spine. not when you are tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling him even closer, raking every nerve ending of his alight with want, need.

for the first time in his life, this man doesn't know.

he doesn't know what to do, where to touch, how to touch you. he's clueless, and it's neverwrecking, because you are one of the most valuable things in his life– he wants to lavish you with nothing more than the best he can, make you feel nothing but comfort, love, happiness.

and he's been doing a great job of making you happy, of being a good, caring boyfriend. but he's never been a lover before.

the room is dim lit, lights out except for whatever surface the moonlight grazes. and he likes it like this, he likes knowing you can't fully make out his face– how his eyes are a little bit wider from want and his brows scrunched in worry, anxiety.

he wonders if you like it though, would you rather see him? be seen by him?

he parts the kiss but his lips still linger on yours, still a breath away as his thumb caress your cheek. it trembles, you notice.

"I can lit some candles if you'd like," he sounds hesitant and shy even as he tries not to, and for some reason it flusters you.

knowing that itachi, so reliable, caring and capable itachi, is as nervous and clueless about this as you is so very comforting. knowing you're the reason he's this vulnerable also stirs a heat inside of you.

"it's ok," you whisper, trying not to sound as breathless as you feel– what with you devouring his lips and taking every huff of breath from both of your lungs, "I prefer it like this... if you don't mind."

he struggles to hold back a sigh of relief. you just took 50 pounds of worry in weight off his whole body. he relaxes at that, lips faintly tugging at the corners. you can feel the whisper of his smile as he press the kiss to your forehead, chaste and assuring.

itachi doesn't push closer, he doesn't make the next move even though you can feel he wants to, if the slight bulge brushing your thigh is anything to go by. anticipation buzzes in the air and you cut through by entangling your fingers in his hair, it's a gentle gesture, unlike the eager way you pull him in to take his lips in another searing kiss.

his body shivers. your hands are on him, unsure and shaky but still tugging at his clothes, and your lips kiss every thought away from his brain– he can only feel you, smell and touch you.

it's intoxicating how you manage to erase every coherent thought in his head like this, so easily, and it's embarrassing how he's already straining in his pants when his clothes are barely off and you've both barely grazed each other.

you gasp lowly against his lips when he accidentally presses his hips against your thigh and you feel it. your brain short circuits for a second. is that...? that's his dick, right? and he's... hard, he's aroused for you and the realization of it makes your chest heave and you clench around nothing.

it almost unsettles you how wet you're getting so quickly, your panties cling to your skin and nipples are perky and craving for any attention– you need him to pinch them, wrap his pretty lips around and lick, bite them.

"I'm sorry," your mind is foggy with desire, you barely register the strangled apology. but you do register the way he tugs your lips up and leans a bit further away from you and you frown, placing a hand on his cheek.

itachi bites his lip, freezing in place. he's so so glad the lights are off because he's sure he'd die if you could see him now– red with embarrassment and shame. he failed you, he was trying so hard to keep his hips away from you, to hide his embarrassing boner and now he ruined it, right? surely you're nervous like him and this probably made it worse, he should be moving slower, he should–.

he gulps, "I didn't mean–," to hump myself on you like a depraved idiot, he tries to say but clearly struggles.

you interrupt the mess that is his train of thought,

"It's fine," the assurance in your timid voice makes his stomach flutter– from desire, sure, but also adoration. it's like itachi cannot breath without being reminded each second how much he loves you– why he fell for you. "I don't mind, I–" you swallow the lump in your throat but it doesn't make your neck feel any lighter, voice still strained with both anxiety and desire, "I don't mind if you touch me."

you both just need confirmation, just need to know you're both ok with this, that you want this.

and itachi forgets how to breath in that second, because he pants as he leans closer, "are you sure?" there's a pang of desperation in his rushed voice that you've never heard before– makes your stomach leap and the spot between your legs tighten with need.

your fingers curl on whatever flesh they can grip, blunt nails scraping his skin "please."

is desperation too what he finds when he kisses you– plush lips molding over yours, moving in a way that makes you eager for more– proved by how the second he licks at their seam, they part swiftly.

he devours you then and the intesity of his kisses makes you arch into him, a moan escaping and immediately muffled by him. you feel his grip on your hips, firm and tight as it pulls them down against his; the contact makes you whimper, you can feel him now fully– even through layers of clothes you feel the heat and how hard it is against your covered pussy. you can't help but grind into him as you break the kiss, moaning his name.

itachi curses low under his breath, warm breath fanning over you lips as he feels you dragging your clothed core over his bulge– makes every nerve in his body tingle and cock pulse with want.

you feel a weight at the middle of your body and a shiver skims down your spine when you spot his fingers curling around the fabric of the sash keeping your yukata secure. you feel his eyes on you and your hands wrap around his nape, fingers digging into his scalp as you pull his face to yours.

the kiss is much slower than the heated make out you were both having, but it's just as passionate– every movement of your lips sends a pulse down his stomach, and it's all the confirmation he needs to tug the sash away.

itachi parts your yukata with reverence– his breath is held as he guides the fabric down your shoulders, elbows, until it's completely off your skin and pooling at his lap.

his hands are shaking because he can clearly make the shape of your breasts and the faint shape of your nipples– they're perky and hard, aroused and craving attention.

he swallows hard, finger itching to touch and mouth salivating. he's never been this aroused before in his life, it's hard to think knowing you're almost completely bare on his lap, and wanting him just as much as he does you.

"can I–," he takes a sharp breath, trying to steady his voice, "can I touch you?"

your breath hitches and you bite your lip to restrain a low moan, "please do."

his hand, big and firm cups your breast and your eyes fall shut, thighs instinctively trying to clench, stopped by his hips. you can feel your clit throb when he experimentally runs a thumb over your hardened nipple, a broken moan falling from your lips.

"does that feel good?" he asks, hesitant. if the room wasn't this dim, you'd probably chuckle at how his brows are pinched in concentration, his attention completely focused on how he is touching you. he can feel the peeble skin of your stiff nipple and his cock throbs at your sweet moan.

"yes," you manage to breath out, "can you... can you rub it?" you sound almost shy as you ask, and it's cute, he thinks.

he runs his tumb once again over your nipple, this time rolling it around digit and body shudders, "like this?" you moan another yes and itachi groans in response.

his lips run down your neck, brushinv past your collarbones and your stomach flutters the second you feel it on your breasts. he presses kiss after kiss, all the while gently rubbing you perked nipple and squeezing your tit.

but it's when his lips finally wraps around the other one that your stomach tightens with need– you moan his name and your nails dig in his scalp, pushing his head on your chest as you feel his tongue give tentative lick on the perked little bud.

itachi downright moans against your chest when your hips once again start slowly grinding against his and on instinct of taking a sharp breath, he sucks your nipple into his mouth.

your head is thrown back and you whimper in pleasure. you're so wet you can feel your panties clinging to your pussy lips, he's driving you mad and if he doesn't touch you there, you feel like you'll die.

you grab his free, the one that's not deliciously toying with your nipple, and take it to the place rught between your thighs. you press his fingers to the waistband of your panties and you'd be so embarrassed of doing this moments ago, but right now, it only arouses you more.

"can you... c-can you touch me here too?" you ask hesitantly. you're not sure how far he wants to take it.

he has to clench his jaw to stop the most indecent moan from coming out his lips. he can feel the precum right as it leaks out of his tip.

he swallows hard, lips pressed on your skin to keep himself sane as he speaks, "could you... teach me how?"

you nod frantically, almost sobbing before you realize he can see it. you whisper a small "yeah" before you guide his fingers under the waistband of your panties.

his breath hitches and this time he can't stop the moan that hisses out when you press his fingers to your bare cunt.

he can feel you, on the very tip of his fingers– how your damp folds part around them, the delicious heat that immediately pours off you and onto his fingers, and how fucking wet you are.

itachi is worried at this point he might come in his pants at just the feel of you like this– dripping down his and your own fingers as you coax him to skim over your folds, to feel your lips and trace your little hole.

"you're killing me, darling." he whimpers, jaw clenched as he tries so hard to grasp to his sanity while rubbing your cunt.

his chest feel heavy and he can't stop thinking about how wet and hot you are, and how tiny your hole felt. how could he possibly fit his cock inside you?

you shudder on top of him as your fingers lead his higher and you feel tears brim in your eyes when he finally he grazes your clit with the pad of finger; the faint touch makes your thighs clench around his hips, makes you whimper his name and grind against his hand.

your fingers curl on his hair to pull him closer, an anchor, while you try to process what you just felt– his sickeningly sweet heat at the very pit of your stomach that teased a fire even bigger. you were panting in anticipation, in disbelief of how much your body seemed to crave for him to stroke your clit again, rub it until that fire melted out of you.

"there," you plead in a breathless moan, "please touch me there."

and itachi is nothing if not a man devoted to you. even if his fingers are clumsy and touch still tentative, he presses them to that swollen little nub that has you singing moan after broken moan for him, and gets your thighs closing around his hips. he can feel it pulse under his digit and he thinks you feel even wetter than before as you sob his name.

he sucks your nipple back into his mouth and go back to rub the other at the same pace he rubs you little clit, and the coil in the pit of your stomach is almost unberable as you sob. you can feel it, so very close to snapping and in desperation, you grip his hand, tugginv it away from you.

your whole body stiffens in disappointment, but you bite the frustrated moan back.

itachi's face falls, lips bitten in worry as he gently takes his hand away from you and your underwear. "did I hurt you?" there's worry in his voice and you gasp, realizing how that might have looked through his eyes– he thinks he fucked up, that his touch is wasn't wanted.

you try to regain your breath, but your voice still sound unsteady as you hurry to speak, "no, no. it's nothing like that I just–" you swallow hard, already feeling the heat prickling at your cheeks even before you utter the next words. "I...  I was close," you admit, voice small and a little bit shy as you press your face against his shoulder– as if he could see you, as if the room wasn't so dark and you didn't need to hide. but you needed the comfort, the closeness.

you find it hard to say the next part, words stuttering even inside your brain.

itachi sounds a bit confused, yet gentle anyway as he leans clsoer to you, a kiss pressed to the side of your neck, "and is that a bad thing?"

you whimper, curling a little bit in shame before you swallow it. "no..."

"but?" he coaxes, pressing another kiss to your hair.

"but I wanted to come with you inside me," you finally rasp out, words rushing out of your mind before you can regret or stutter on them. "if you want that too, I mean," you complete, you don't want to pressure him.

you're completely unaware of how his cock throbs inside his pants at your words, how his tip is leaking for you and how hard he is.

a hand sneaks to your chin then, lifting it up. he grazes his fingers, still damp and coated with your slick, on your bottom lip, coaxing it to part slightly– whether it is from the delicate pressure or from the immediate surprise of him using the fingers he was just rubbing your pussy with, he's not sure, and it truly doesn't matter when it gets a low moan from you. they feel cooler now, but the heat they felt is seared in his mind.

he's panting as he whisper right against your lips, "are you sure that's what you want?"

you could cry then– cry from how considerate he is, and cry from how this fire doesn't stop aching and how much you needed him while not even being able to voice it fully.

"I need you inside me so bad it hurts, itachi," you whimper, feeling the tears slowly blurring your vision as your pussy clenches around nothing, "I want this."

you might as well have ripped the breath out of his lungs by the way he's panting. he offers whatever is left of it to you nonetheless in a kiss, searing and intense, as he pulls you up and on your feet to quickly get rid of his own clothes.

you hear the fumbling as you kiss him, and you part it only to tug your own panties down. you fluster at the way you can feel your slick clinging to it as you finally get rid of the soaked material.

itachi is quick to pull you back on his lap. a shiver licks down your spine when you feel his cock brush against your inner thigh– his skin is hot and hard where it touched you, and you whimper in need.

"I've heard it might hurt in your first time," it takes you second to comprehend what he's talking about, too dazed by your arousal and how close you are to finally feeling him inside you, "please," he cups you cheek and the tender kiss he presses to your nose makes your heart leap, "let me know if I need to stop. I don't want to make you feel pain," his whispered words felt so intimate and assuring, like a warm blanket placed around your shoulders. you think you'll never be able to stop loving this man, and how much he cares for you.

you cup his cheek in return, thumb caressing the patch of skin over his cheekbones, "I will," you whisper to him before taking his lips in another kiss.

the kiss is deep this time, slower and more calculated. he wants to feel every skim of your lips on his, every graze of your tongue. his fingers curl around his cock and he hisses, he's so sensitive the touch almost burns, balls tightening and his breath grows ragged as he guides his leaking tip towards your pussy.

it takes some trial and error before he finally feels your wetness on his skin. you both moan as he slowly parts your dripping folds with the tip of cock. your nails dig in his skin and your hips buck when it accidentally grazes your clit.

you can easily  otice he's struggling to find your entrance, you're just as eager as him, just as sensitive and the process almost feels like a teasing torture.

itachi's eyes close shut and a strangled moan falls from his lips when he feels your hand wrap around his, you fingers brush slightly against the his cock and he almost loses it.

you're tugging at his grip, guiding his hand until his cocktip catches on your tight and dripping hole. you moan his name, pleading him to put it in and itachi feels his stomach tightening.

he presses his the head of his cock inside you, feeling your little hole slowly giving in, spreading around him. he hears you panting, feels your body tense for a second before relaxing. your jaw is clenched and you're holding onto him for dear life as he slowly guides your hips down and coax your pussy to take him– he feels so big, you feel your walls stretchinv around him, and ache not painful but unfamiliar, that still the breath in your lungs.

"you're ok?"  you don't even notice he stopped moving. even while sitting completely still inside you, his cock presses against your walls to firmly, still spread your tight hole so much.

you take a second to respond, trying to put scattered words together in your hazed brain at the same pace you regain your breath, "yeah," you manage to say, "please keep going."

itachi hesisates for just a second before gradually descends your hips onto his. you both whimper in pleasure and restraint the second your hips finally meet.

you're filled to the hilt, tight pussy squeezing around his cock as it tries to assimilate the thick cock pushing against its every nerve ending. your boyfriend, on the other hand, never thought paradise could be this cruel. you feel amazing, so fucking tight around his cock, he can feel your slick dripping down his balls and at this point he's not sure if it's your cunt clenching around him or his cock pulsing inside you. it all feels good, too good– he won't fucking last.

his balls are tightening in pleasure and the tip of his cock aches and ebbs small but thick beads of precum inside you. you plead him to move and his stomach feels taut, the moment he pulls you hips up and then guides it back down on him he knows he's gone– your pussy drags so smoothly around his cock, even as tight as you're gripping him, you're so wet that he could easily hold you still and thrust hard into you until you're a moaning mess.

if he wasn't on the brink of cumming inside you already, that is. he whimpers your name, almost sobs it when he drags your pussy up his cock once again, "I'm not gonna last," the confession is pulled out him in a strangled moan.

you can feel him pulse inside your tight walls, and you moan lowly, "it's ok. you come," your voice sound so sweet, like a siren singing against his ear, "I want to feel it."

and itachi is gone the moment those words leave your lips– he manages to buck his hips twice more into your tight cunt before his cock throbs and his cum spills deep inside you. the warmth is overwhelming, much like the feel of his tip spurting that much cum inside you. your whole body shudders, and you could almost cum too from how his cock pulses in your pussy as he orgasms, how he moans your name like something holy and how hard itachi is gripping you.

but you don't, your clit still ches in desire and your pussy still squeezes around him, trying to chase the same release.

his head falls against your shoulder as he comes down from his high.

"I'm sorry," it's almost inaudible with the way he's gasping for air, but you can still make out his apologies between his desperate catch of breath, "I– I didn't mean to... you– you felt so good."

you whimper, eyes stinging with tears– you're so sensitive and it feels like you're so very close and so far of the edge. even his words are enough to make your clit throb.

he hisses when your pussy tightens around his spent cock, he can feel your desperation– you cling to him, sob into his neck and to grind your hips against his to get any sort of friction, but his iron grip frustrates every attempt.

he coos at you, heart tightening in his chest– he hates to see you suffer. he presses his lips against your cheek, soothing you, "I know, darling, I'm sorry. it hurts doesn't it? I'll make it up to you, my love," he whispers to you, trying his best to ignore how your pussy keeps gripping his sensitive cock, in order to fully focus on you.

"can you be still for me, angel? I'll make you come, I promise," he will do it even if takes all night and day, but he won't be able to focus if you keep trying to grind your hips against his.

he hears you sob against neck before nodding, a muffled "please," uttered against his skin.

one of his hands leave your hips and he's so grateful when you keep them still, even when he knows how hard it must be for you. he rewards you instantly by pressing his thumb against your clit– and just how you teached him, he rubs it, this time applying enough pressure to cause your eyes to roll to the back of your skull.

your toes curl and itachi slides his free hand all the way to the back of your head and gently tug at your hair, coaxing you lean back, and you do, without a second thought. you're almost laying back as he leans forward, and before you can even think, his lips are wrapped tightly around your nipple, his teeth grazing at the stiff nub as he sucks on it.

the moan that rips out of you is broken and desperate– his thumb is merciless rubbing your swollen clit and the added stimulation to your nipples makes tears run down your eyes. it feels so good.

your pussy is clamping down on him, he can feel you're close even before the moan breaks from you, it makes his cock ache from rhe oversensitivity and yet, he doesn't pull out.

it's his punishment, he thinks– for denying you of pleasure for this long, for getting his before you could get yours. and yet, even as you cunt flutters frantically around his extremely sensitive cock, he can't help but find the overstimulating sensation, his punishment, sweet, especially as he feels yours and his slick dripping down his balls as you finally cum.

he's well aware the dark is meant to keep you both from feeling too overwhelmed by each other's gaze, and perhaps he is cheating when his black pupils dilate into deep bright red, glowing faintly in the dark night. he is cheating as he see you perfectly, eyes closed and every micro expression tiwsted into pleasure– but can he be blamed for wanting to commit it to memory, for craving to engrave you to his memory, just like this, in this beautiful and mindnumbing glory as you come apart for him?

no, no he can't.

his lips brush featherlight kisses onto your skin, from chest all the way to your cheek.

much like you, he's still catching his breath- low pants and gasps fanning across your cheek when he leans closer.

you can also hear it in his voice, the strain of it, the quick intakes of air and yet, there's still remnants of that hunger when asks in hushed breath, "more?"

•••

he wakes up to the nuzzle of your nose against his neck. he chuckles, hands rubbing against your bare back.

"good morning," you whisper against his skin and a small shiver runs through his skin.

he smiles, eyes opening to a room fully lit by the morning sun, and he gazes down at you, "good morning, my love," you lean back to catch his eyes and the tenderness in them makes your heart flutter in your chest.

your head tilts a bit in confusion when his eyes drop down your frame and he immediately averts his gaze, cheeks tainted red. you follow his gaze and immediately feel your own heatening too.

the sheets covering your bare frame had fallen aside, exposing your chest and stomach, probably when you moved back to stare at him.

"oh," you bite your lip, not sure what to say or if you should cover yourself. would he understand it wrongly if you did? would he prefer it? you're about to reach for the fabric when his fingers wrap around your own, effectively stopping you.

he cleans his throat, but he still cannot keep your gaze, and you're sure you've never seen itachi this red before in your life, but the way he speaks to you is genuine, and ends alll your worries on the spot, "you are beautiful."

raspberry leaves

pairing: poly!geto suguru x fem!reader x gojo satoru [jjk au]

warnings: jjk au! geto doesn't defect and everything is happy :)) cursing, periods, severe cramps, painkillers and mentions of taking more than you're supposed to (three instead of two), lots of talk of pain, mentions of vomiting, passing out, panic, mentions of death, mentions of burning yourself, probably ooc megumi but he's a kid here (probably gojo too but I can't not write him soft), family au!, megumi tsumiki and the twins are here!, probably taking liberties on how gojo's technique works but oops, this is for the girlies with severe period symptoms :'), major hurt/comfort

word count: 12.5k

a/n: drops this and yells "scatter!" and disappears back into seclusion. I did not proofread this :)

Gojo Satoru has never woken up so terrified in his life. 

It’s a horrifying thing; to wake up lurching from your sheets as the love of your life cries out in panic just a few hours past midnight. For a moment, Satoru thinks he’s dying – or that he should be – because as he rips his sheets away from his legs, racing to his feet with his pulse already roaring in his eardrums, he turns to find Geto Suguru crumbling to his knees. The dark-haired man is the one who shouted, his hands fumbling to grasp another figure, their body limp and hanging useless in Suguru’s arms.

It’s your frame, clutched tight in Suguru’s big hands, that steals the breath from Satoru’s lungs. Ripping any semblance of oxygen right from his chest, the Six Eyes user is left stumbling on his feet to reach his spouses as they crumble to the floor – you limp in Suguru’s grip as you fall unconscious. 

Suguru shouts, a desperate cry of your name as he finally sinks to the bathroom floor, urgently scrambling to cradle your weight against him and support your figure. When he’s settled on the ground, a hand carefully cradling your face, Suguru looks up at Satoru, panic in his features and his heart in his throat. For a tense second, neither man speaks, too terrified to properly ascertain the situation. Then, Satoru chokes out a desperate question as he stumbles into the doorframe, clutching the wood until he swears it could splinter beneath his hands. 

“What happened?” 

But let’s rewind a moment, shall we? 

It starts two hours after midnight – well, it starts long before that, but it’s that moment you finally decide to pull yourself from the sheets and stumble into the bathroom. That moment, the one of shortened breaths and a weak whimper, is the one to incite the inferno that will wake Gojo Satoru in an hour or so. 

You’ve been awake for hours. Sleep was a stubborn thing; an obstinate, pig-headed bastard that wouldn’t allow you the mercy of relief even hours after you’ve been awake clutching your stomach and trying desperately not to cry. 

It’s agony. Beginning in your left side and rippling through the entirety of your stomach and down your legs, the cramping sensation seizes you with another tight fist and squeezes. It’s agony, and it’s been keeping you awake for hours. 

Your period is merciless. 

You’ve always had terrible cramps. That was a notion you had grown used to when you were young. Painkillers could only do so much, and you hated to have to take as many as you did just to function near normally. The first day of shark week was always terrible, but this? This was pure agony, and you were nearing your breaking point. 

It festered for hours in your stomach, sending cramps through your form in catastrophic waves and pushing against your belly until you thought you were truly going to die. The urge to use the restroom is horrible, but each time you drag yourself to the ensuite bathroom, you sit there as another wave of agony nearly pulls you to your knees. You’re sweaty and tired, figure quivering as another rippling cramp seizes your legs, and you’ve never wanted anything more than the sweet relief of slumber. 

Nothing seems to help. 

A hot water bottle is pressed against your stomach, the liquid inside near boiling as you clutch it against your bare skin – a bad idea, you know, but the sensation of the burn is nowhere near as terrible as the cramps. You’ve downed three painkillers a few hours ago, probably another bad idea, but you’re desperate now. 

You don’t want to wake Suguru or Satoru. It’s a Sunday night, and you know they both have work early tomorrow morning. They have to get the kids to school too. The four of your children always pile into one of your husband’s nice cars just a few hours past dawn. The kids get dropped off at primary school on their way to work, since it’s just around the corner from Jujutsu High. 

You can’t tear their few precious hours of sleep away from them. 

Not for this. 

There’s nothing they can do – nothing you can do but sit and try to ride out the waves of crippling agony until they finally stop. 

You’ve done this before. These cramps aren’t new. You can deal with them on your own. 

Can’t you?

But as you repress a broken sob, pulling yourself away from the silk of your sheets and into the bathroom once more, you’re not quite sure. 

When you reach the ensuite bathroom, another cramp surges through you and the tears you’ve been desperately withholding finally burst forth. Pressing your weight into the wall as the door slides shut, you click the lock and finally allow yourself to crumple. Your head pushes into your knees as you sob, trying to keep your cries quiet and muffled against your hand as the other clutches the hot water bottle against the throb of your stomach. 

You’re tired. You’re tired and you’re in so much pain that your fingers tremble and your legs shake. It’s awful, and you just want to sleep. 

But your uterus must hate you, because your stomach lurches and you scramble to lean over the toilet as you dry heave. You’ve never vomited on your period, but it sure does feel like you will. 

Your skin itches. From the sweat or the general grime, you don’t know, but you hate it. Your chest shakes with another sob and your fists squeeze tight as you whine out a horrible sound of agony. It’s too much and you wish it would just stop. Leaning back against the wall, you sigh out a choked sound as you curl into yourself. 

“Stop,” you whine brokenly, too defeated to even understand who you’re pleading to. “Please stop.” 

Geto Suguru wakes up a few moments later. 

He doesn’t know what pulls him from slumber at first. His brow furrows as consciousness returns, a deep breath leaving his nose as he sighs and takes in the feeling of body weight pressed into his chest. It’s a muscular figure, long and tall, so it must be Satoru. He’s pressed into Suguru’s stomach, body curled small in a near comical way as he attempts to tuck himself beneath Suguru’s chin. The long-haired man nearly huffs a chuckle as he pries open his tired eyes to see his partner. 

Suguru runs a loving hand over the mess of pale white strands that fall into Satoru’s eyes, his lips quirking upwards softly as he smiles. Satoru nuzzles closer in his sleep, letting out a happy sigh as Suguru runs his nails through the other’s undercut. Then Suguru shifts, turning over his shoulder slowly to find you as his hand reaches out to pull you closer.

But you’re not there. 

Suguru startles. Jolting silently as his heart skips a frightened beat, the sorcerer’s eyes rip open as they dilate. His hand finds an empty bed, the sheets cold and the imprint of your figure long lost. Suguru carefully untangles himself from his lover’s long limbs, his long, dark hair falling into his eyes as he sits upright. 

“Baby?” his deep, tired voice rumbles in question. Where are you? He nearly asks, heart pounding in his chest. Are the kids okay? 

Suguru knew it was weird you had chosen to sleep on the edge of the bed tonight. You’re usually more than happy to bury yourself in between them, cuddling close and nuzzling into their chests as you try to pull yourself even tighter into their embrace. 

But last night, you gently pushed Suguru into your place, offering him a wave of your hand and a lame excuse as to why you wanted to sleep on the outside. Something about not wanting to sleep yet, he remembers. 

He waits a moment, hoping you’ve just gotten up to use the restroom and you’ll return to them soon. The sound of Satoru’s quiet breaths echo through the space, and has to fill the long seconds by tracing his fingers over his lover’s back. Tracing gentle lines over the defined muscles, Suguru sighs softly and tries to calm his racing pulse. 

A minute passes. Then another. And one more – until Suguru isn’t sure how long he’s been waiting. 

Then Suguru cannot resist the swell of panic that ripples through his stomach. 

His heart lurches in his chest as he swings his legs over the side of the bed, too panicked to offer Satoru more than a hushed sound and a stroke over his back when he tiredly mumbles in protest. 

“‘M just gettin’ up for a sec,’” he mumbles quietly, swallowing back the lump in his throat when he sees the light in the bathroom on. “I’ll be back, love.” 

Satoru grumbles something else, but is soothed when Suguru presses a gentle kiss to his brow. 

“M’kay,” Satoru sighs, easily falling back asleep as he snuggles into the warmth Suguru left behind on the bed. If he wasn’t so worried, Suguru would smile, his heart clenching tight in his chest as he watches Satoru curl into his spot with a soft sound. 

When Suguru stands, adjusting his sweats as he quietly makes his way to the bathroom, he pulls his hair from his eyes. Brushing the strands over his bare shoulder, he sighs as he fiddles for a hair tie in his pocket. He doesn't find one, so he simply pushes the dark strands back from his brow, letting them fall behind him and settle against his bare back. 

You’ve always liked it when his hair is loose anyway. 

Suguru knocks on the bathroom door first. It’s quiet, but you should be able to hear it. When you don’t respond, Suguru frowns and tries again. Knocking gently once more, he swallows as another wave of panic curls in his stomach. 

“Sweetheart?” he tries quietly, voice still rumbling deeply from the slumber he was pulled from. “You’ve been in there a while, honey. Are you alright?” 

Still, you don’t respond. 

You want to. Of course you want to. It’s Suguru, and you don’t want to worry him. 

But the waves of agonizing cramps have stolen your voice. All you can do is sit still and breathe. You feel utterly useless. There’s nothing you can do but control the slow pace of your breaths in a desperate attempt to distract yourself from the crippling sensation radiating from your stomach. 

You want to respond – tell him you’re alright, tell him something, but the agony seals your lips shut. It’s horrible and another wave of tears spill from your tired eyes. You hate it. You wish you would stop crying; it’s not helping and it only makes you feel weak. 

“Baby? I’m gettin’ worried.” 

All you can manage is a sad, weak sound in response. It leaves your lips in more a sob than a hum, and you muffle the tears that shiver through you after. 

“Honey!” Suguru murmurs worriedly, trying to twist the handle of the door, only to curse when he discovers it’s locked. “What’s going on? Are you okay?” 

He shifts on his feet, lifting a hand to pull on the strands on his hair to soothe some of his panic. The sound you manage in response is another broken hum, and it only worsens the thundering pulse of Suguru’s heart. His gut twists as he tries the knob again, as if a few seconds will have changed the status of the lock. 

You whine and Suguru swears his heart cracks. His head presses against the door as his eyes squeeze shut, fist still closed around the handle. 

“Can you open the door f’me, sweetheart?” he murmurs desperately. “‘M really worried about you.” 

Your eyes close, the watery burn rendering them useless as you sniffle. You huff around another breath of pain, pushing your head further into your knees. Trembling softly as your skin flushes, you battle against the waves of agony and the flash of heat that makes you feel sickly. Another wave of nausea ripples in your gut, and you remember how awful you must look. 

Your hair is plastered against your head and your neck and you must look a mess. Wearing a pair of oversized sweats and one of Suguru’s shirts, you feel utterly gross. More than anything you want to open the door and let Suguru take you in his arms. Cuddling into his firm chest and feeling his big arms wrap around you would probably feel nice, but you’re all too aware of how sickly you must look. 

You don’t want him to see you like this: sweaty, messy and sick as you curl in on yourself as you weep through another terrible cramp. You just want to sleep – you want it to stop, everything needs to stop. 

Suguru hums out another question, but you don’t really hear it. It’s not until you hear the lilt of panic in his voice and his voice fiddling with the handle of the door do you manage to find your voice. 

“Sugu…” 

He startles. Head darting up to the door in front of him, Suguru breathes a sigh of relief and chokes out your name. 

“Open the door, darling,” he whispers softly. “Please…” 

You shake your head even though you know he can’t see it. Frowning as you sniffle, you lick your lips to taste salt and the disgusting hint of snot. You’re a mess, and you don’t want him to see you. 

“No, Sugu,” you manage to mutter, head knocking back to rest against the wall as you continue to focus on breathing through your mouth. You visibly shiver through another cramp, this time seizing and whining as it echoes through your legs. 

Suguru bites down on his lip, feeling another sliver of his heart crack at the broken sound of your voice. It pains him, your defeated sigh. He desperately wants to comfort you, to bring you into his chest and kiss your tears away. His hands ache to touch your skin, to feel the warmth he knows by heart. Closing his eyes as he rests his forehead against the wood of the door, Suguru sighs and swallows as he speaks again. 

“Why not?” he murmurs worriedly, voice clipping words from fatigue pulling at his figure. “I need t’know you’re alright, my love.” 

“Don’t wan’ you t’see me.”

Suguru’s head tilts and the lump in his throat swells. Heart clenching sadly, one of his hands lifts to rest on the door, as if he can reach you on the other side if he tries hard enough. He knows he can get through this door if he really wanted. It would be too easy for him to splinter the frame with his strength alone, and he has more than one curse at his disposal that could pick a lock smoothly. 

It’s the sound of your voice that holds him back. 

You’re so… tired. You’re broken whisper echoes through the wooden door with a sad coo, and it makes Suguru’s chest ache. 

“My sweet girl…” Suguru whispers, fingers trailing across the wood like they’re desperate to stroke across your cheek. “Why don’t you want me to see you?” 

You frustratedly sigh, cursing the tears that continue to track down your cheeks. No matter what you do, they keep dripping over your skin in tiny rivulets, staining your face with tracks of dried salt. You wipe them away but they’re quickly replaced by another stream. 

You just want to sleep. 

“I don’t feel good, Sugu,” you sigh tiredly, voice quivering around tears. It’s pathetic – how watery you sound. You wish you were stronger. “I look bad and I don’t want wan’ t’keep you an’ Toru awake.” 

You don’t feel good? He nearly questions. Why didn’t you wake me? 

But all he does is sigh softly, fists clenching against the door. For a moment he contemplates waking Satoru, knowing you probably won’t be able to resist them both. Though, when he turns over his shoulder, Suguru sees the bags beneath his lover’s eyes and the tired slump of his form in their sheets. 

Satoru needs his sleep. It’s difficult enough for him to find slumber when the Six Eyes strains him dry. 

Suguru lets him rest. 

He murmurs your name again, his eyes closing as he continues to rest against the door. 

“I’m in love with you, you know?” Suguru sighs sweetly, his lips lifting slightly to reveal a fond smile. “You could never ‘look bad’ to me, my darling.” 

Shifting on his feet and looking up at the ceiling, his shoulders sag as he worries. What if you don’t open the door? He’s considering settling on the floor with his back against the door when he whispers again. 

“And you don’t need t’worry about keepin’ me awake, alright? I want you t’come to me when you’re not feeling good.” 

He pauses once, dropping his hand from the knob as he breathes. 

“I worry about you, honey,” he finishes. “I just need to know you’re okay.” 

You sniffle, feeling the cramp finally seep away to nothing. They’re not over, you can feel another wave rising from beneath the last, but at least they offer you a single moment to reach up and twist the lock. 

It’s too much for you to handle alone. 

You want to bury yourself in Suguru’s strong arms and weep as the pain shivers through you. If there’s nothing you can do to soothe the agony, then at least you won’t be alone. 

“Okay.”

Suguru hears the lock click. 

Gasping softly, he pulls himself upright and reaches down to grip the handle of the door with a skip of his heart. He was pondering waiting outside the door in the fading light of the moon when you whispered the tired word. His chest aches when he twists the knob, pulling the door open to reveal your figure.

You’re curled on the floor, calves crossed and legs pulled into your chest as you bury your head into your knees. Your arms wrap around yourself, one hand clutching the hot water bottle pressed tightly to your stomach. 

Suguru frowns, his heart thumping sadly as you weep out another broken sound. His entire body aches in a way he cannot describe, physically pained at the choked sounds of agony leaving your lips. He’s already on his knees at your side when you lift your head, looking up at him through your tears and your lip quivering in a way he knows you cannot control. 

He’s never seen you look so hurt. 

“Oh, sweetheart…” he coos quietly, putting the pieces together as you shiver through another wave of crippling cramps, hand squeezing tight around your leg – your period. “You’re not alright.” 

“No,” you weep, shaking your head with watery eyes leaking salty droplets down your cheeks, and you suck in a shaking breath as your fists clench. Your brow furrows as your eyelids squeeze shut, unable to mask the pain as it ripples through you. Suguru’s face softens into an expression of pain, frowning sadly. You have a high pain tolerance for your period cramps – he knows that. You’ve had painful periods your whole life, and he and Satoru have seen you conceal the agony in your features for years. 

This is a knife to his heart. 

You can’t conceal the sweat on your brow, nor the tremble of your fingers and the painful gasp of breath you suck in when the pain returns tenfold. 

“It hurts, Sugu…” 

“I know, I’m sorry,” he whispers sadly, desperately wishing there’s something he can do to stall the agony. “C’mere, honey.”

Suguru’s mouth twists into an expression of pain, and he carefully wraps an arm around your shoulders. Pulling you away from the wall, the dark-haired man maneuvers you into his chest as he sits onto the floor. You twist into his embrace, wrapping your arms around his frame as you weep softly into his bare chest, caring little for the tears that stain his skin. Suguru could care less. He’s far too worried about the expression plastered onto your features and the shiver that trembles through you. 

“How long have you been up?” he whispers as he cradles you in his lap, hand stroking over your hair and strong arm wrapping around you. 

You shake your head and Suguru’s frown deepens – if it’s even possible. 

“Haven’t slept yet.” 

Suguru’s hair falls into his eyes as he leans down to press a gentle kiss between your brows. He stays there, breathing through his noses as he continues to lay tiny kisses to your forehead. His eyes screw shut, hand stroking over your cheek as you bury yourself deeper into his embrace. 

Your skin is warm, flushed with heat and your hair sticks to your forehead in a way Suguru knows must make you feel sickly. He carefully strokes the strands away and kisses the skin beneath with a soft sigh. 

“Have you been awake all night?” he finally whispers, voice deep and quietly sad. “With cramps like this?”

You nod into his chest, wincing again and closing your eyes as you sob through another agonizing cramp. Your legs shake as you tuck them into yourself together, trying desperately to push the hot water bottle deeper into your skin. 

“Oh, baby…” he sighs, leaning back to rest against the wall and pull you back into him. He strokes another hand across your face, thumbing the space between your brows when he sees the way they’re scrunched. “Why didn’t you wake me?” 

You sigh and breathe a few times to steady yourself, slowly loosening your fists when Suguru pries your fingers open to intertwine his own around yours. He pulls your hands into his chest, tucking them by his heart so you can feel the pulse of his heart. He hopes you don’t notice how quick it’s beating. He’s still worried. Suguru cannot help the way his heart lurches when you wince. As if each throb of agony is his own, Suguru buries his face closer to your own, clutching onto your hand and not faltering when you tighten your grip to counter the waves of pain echoing through you. 

“You’ve got work in the morning,” you pant quietly, voice still watery and weak. “And you an’ Toru gotta’ take the kids.” 

“Honey…” he sighs sweetly. “You’re in pain… I want you t’wake me if you’re in pain, sweetheart. No amount of sleep could soothe me if you’re hurt and alone.” 

You manage a hum in response, face still screwed shut and Suguru frowns when you muffle another sob as a cramp seizes you once more. 

“Okay, baby… Okay,” he whispers, rocking you into him a little in an attempt to distract you. Now is not the time for a lecture, he supposes.“You’re alright, darling. You’re gonna be alright.” 

He hates the sound of your tears. 

When you shudder through another agonizing sound, Suguru’s face crumples. He’s never felt so useless. You’re in agony, and he can do nothing to fix it. 

“You took your painkillers?” 

You nod again, weeping into his chest and squeezing his hand tight. 

“Three,” you mumble tiredly, focusing on the feeling of Suguru’s warm, bare chest pressed against your skin. It’s grounding and you don’t want to move. “They aren’t working.”

“How long ago?” 

He doesn't want to pester you with questions, but he’s desperately pulling at strings, hoping one will grant him the solution to your pain. 

“Midnight,” you manage. You wince again, and Suguru peppers kisses along your hairline, gently hushing you. You curl tighter into yourself, desperately huffing as the pain continues to swell higher. It feels like it will break at any moment, but it just… doesn’t. The agony continues to rise, as if there is no limit to its torment. The cramping sensation just comes back again and again, until you’re sure that there’s something wrong. How can a period be so painful? 

“It hurts so bad, Sugu,” you cry, reaching the end of your tether. You’re desperate for the ache to stop, but it feels like there’s no  point of end in sight. “I just want it to stop…” 

Suguru feels his stomach twist, heart crying out in a pattern of your name. He pulls you tighter, a wave of his own tears swelling behind his eyes. Your cries chip at his heart, pieces of his soul falling apart in your agony. He wishes he could do something – use some kind of technique to null the pain, to soothe you, anything. 

“I know, honey,” he soothes, cradling you closer and rubbing his finger over your cheek as he murmurs into your hairline. “I’m sorry I can’t do anything more. I’m sorry I can’t take this from you.” 

You shake your head, clutching him tight as you attempt to focus on your breaths again. Hand wrapped tightly around his own, you try to use his touch as a grounding sensation. Eventually, the lulling motion of his finger over your cheek and his lips at your hairline soothe some of the tension beneath your skin. You relax into his touch despite the continuous waves of cramps still panging through your stomach. 

“Just stay,” you weep, lifting your other hand from your stomach to clutch behind Suguru’s head. You hold onto his neck, burying your fingers in his soft hair and desperately inhale his familiar scent. Suguru is familiar – he’s safe. “Please…”

You don’t have to worry about anything as long as Suguru and Satoru are around. 

“Always, sweetheart,” he whispers against you, dropping the hand at your cheek to press your hot water bottle into your stomach for you. “Always. You don’t have t’ask.” 

 His large hand keeps your bottle in place, spreading across your stomach and rubbing soothing circles into your waist with his thumb. His hand is big enough to settle on your stomach and the fabric of your hot water bottle. 

Suguru hates this. He hates seeing you in pain. He hates that all he can do is sit and press delicate kisses to your hairline as you writhe in agony. It physically pains him to be unable to help – to have to watch as one of the loves of his life suffers. 

Suguru buries his nose into your hair and kisses you once more, whispering sweet words of encouragement and humming in an attempt to distract you. He loves you so much, and he hopes you know that. 

“You’re doing so well, my darling.”  

Eventually, the wave passes, and you limply release your intense grip on his fingers and relax into his hold. It’s a slow process. Finally succumbing to some brief glimpse of exhaustion, you slip loosely into Suguru’s hold and trust him to catch you. There will be another cramp soon, but at least this one is over. You breathe out a sigh and look up at Suguru with tears on your lashes. 

Strands of his dark hair fall into his eyes, and Suguru has never looked more beautiful to you. Sitting on the bathroom floor with you three hours past midnight, no shirt and a loose pair of sweats on his hips (ones he’s not sure are his own), and Suguru has never looked so endearing. The way he looks down at you, bangs dangling in front of his dark eyes and full lips leaning down to kiss your face gently; he’s princely. 

Your heart finally slows to an acceptable pace as Suguru leans down, and you close your eyes as he lays a soft kiss to one of your eyelids. His full lips peck sweetly against one, then he leans away to kiss the other. Your eyes well with tears again, but this time you think they’re for a different reason. 

“Hi,” he whispers sweetly, lips lifting to show you that tiny smile of his that makes your heart do funny things. You’re too tired to offer much more than a sigh and a quirk of your lips, but Suguru is grateful for the expression all the same. 

“Hi, Sugu.” 

“Are you feeling any better?” 

You shake your head, sighing quietly as you shift.

“Not really.”

Suguru frowns again, and you’re tempted to lift your thumbs to pull his lips upwards again. Suguru looks so much prettier when he smiles. 

“I’m sorry, honey,” he whispers. “Do you wanna get off the floor, at least? The bed’s much more comfortable and Toru’s gonna start worrying soon.”

You figure now is the best time to try moving, so you nod. There’s probably only a few minutes between these waves of terrible cramps, so you’ll take the moment you have to get back into bed. 

“M’kay,” you sigh tiredly. Suguru's expression softens for a reason you don’t understand, but the sorcerer fondly smiles as he thinks of the same sound Satoru had made just minutes before. 

“Alright, love. Let’s get you up, alright?”

You nod again, allowing Suguru to unwind his limbs from yours. He softly chuckles when you whine as his fingers unlace from your own, but readjusts his grip to carefully pull you to stand. He holds his other hand out, tenderly helping you stand. 

“Careful…” he whispers. “Go slow, baby.” 

Your head spins as you stand and you lift a hand to press against your temple. The rolling tide of nausea in your stomach had quelled for the time being, but the tremble of your legs is still too apparent. You step forward shakily, reaching out to grasp Suguru’s outstretched hand with a grateful smile. He returns the look with soft eyes and nods sweetly as he allows you to step out of the bathroom first. 

When he’s certain you can stand on your own, Suguru turns over his shoulder to turn off the bathroom light and shut the door. 

But he only gets so far. 

Suddenly, you inhale sharply. Freezing in place, your body curls inwards on itself as a blinding swell of cramps overtakes your form. This one is sharp and crippling, radiating down your legs until even your calves feel weak. Your body is suddenly too hot, and the air is far too cold. Shivers trickle down your spine and you feel that all too familiar bolt of stifling panic strike through your chest. It runs through the entirety of your figure, sizzling beneath your skin and striking each nerve it passes. You feel that terrible curl of your stomach and the waves of oncoming panic filter through you.

You sway on your feet. 

Something’s wrong. And it’s making you panic. 

You open your mouth, lip quivering as you attempt to croak out a plea of Suguru’s name, but nothing comes. Some tired, broken whine leaves your lips instead – a desperate cry for help, for Suguru.

When Suguru turns around, head whipping over his shoulder sharply, he expects to see you headed towards his side of the bed. Instead, he’s met with your body swaying slightly as you pant and shiver. Suguru thinks his heart stops. 

Then your body stills, and you crumple. 

“Baby!” 

Suguru throws himself forward, just managing to grab your figure as it goes limp. He sways, shifting your weight into his arms and panicking as you continue to sink into the floor. Your body is dead weight in his hands, still shivering but cold and unmoving. 

He’s going to be sick. 

His stomach curls as bile spills onto the back of his tongue, and Suguru can hear his heart pound in his ears. The lump is back in his throat, swelling until he can barely suck in a desperate breath to calm his panicked heart. Fuck, he’s never been so scared. 

“Baby, oh fuck!” he cries, voice no longer quiet and delicate. Suguru openly shouts, desperately trying to carefully maneuver you to the floor, but his mind is screaming thousands of things at him at once. All he can hear is the roaring in his eardrums. His eyes scan over your limp figure and Suguru swears his heart cracks. He can feel it; deep within his chest, a splinter finally cleaves open. 

“Oh my god, okay,” Suguru chokes out, carefully cradling you as he sinks to his knees. “You’re alright, okay? I’ve got you, honey.”

He doesn’t know what to do. His heart is pounding and his soul is openly weeping. There are tears welling in his eyes and dragging down the pristine skin of his cheeks. 

Suguru doesn't know what to do. 

“Okay,” he whispers frightfully. “Okay…”

You’re laying on your back, facing the ceiling, and the way your blank expression stares back at him makes him nauseous. 

“Sweetheart?” he calls carefully, brushing a hand over your cheek to push hair away from your face. “Baby, c’mon…” 

You don’t respond. There’s not even a twitch in your brow or a flick of your fingers. You’re unconscious. Suguru’s heart accelerates again, pounding until he thinks it might burst from his bony rib cage. He turns over his shoulder with a broken cry, calling for the one person he so urgently needs. 

“Satoru!” 

His voice is panicked, shouted with a guttural cry and he thinks it might echo through the house, but Suguru vaguely hopes he doesn't wake the kids. 

“Satoru, wake up!”

But Satoru is already awake. 

Lurching forward in the bed, the Six Eyes user is already throwing the sheets away from his legs as he scans the room. His technique is activated, and Suguru can feel the familiar curtain of Infinity wrap around his body. 

“Suguru?” Satoru calls as he stands, his body tense and prepared to fight. “What happened? Are you alright?” 

Suguru doesn’t have the chance to respond, because Satoru steps forward and his crystalline eyes find his lover’s hunched figure crouched in the doorway of the bathroom, bent over the body of their wife. You’re limp on the floor, hair sprawled out beneath you as Suguru cradles your head and glances up at his partner with desperate, fearful eyes. 

Satoru thinks he’s dying. 

It’s the only possible explanation for the lack of oxygen in his lungs and the stuttered pulse of his heart. His legs wane at his knees, nearly propelling him into the floor, but Satoru manages to keep himself upright as he throws his hands forward to brace himself on the bathroom doorway. 

“What…?” Satoru whispers breathily, voice uncharacteristically quiet – uncharacteristically weak. “What happened?” 

His Six Eyes are activated, flickering over every crevice of your form. They’re urgent, desperate to find the source of your pain. When they find nothing, Satoru swallows back a sound of desperation. 

“She passed out,” Suguru whispers plainly, panic evident in the quiver of his voice. “She started her period early, Toru. She’s in so much pain…”

Satoru feels his knees wane again. His heart can’t take much more of this. She’s in pain? His soul cries. 

“She’s been laying on the bathroom floor crying,” his lover mumbles, stroking a hand over your cheekbone as a tear drips into his mouth. “I shouldn’t have asked her t’get up – she was weak and I didn’t think –”

“Suguru.” 

The dark-haired sorcerer stops. Lifting his head to stare up at Satoru, Suguru frowns. 

“This isn’t your fault, Suguru,” Satoru whispers, trying desperately to keep himself calm. His heart is in his throat and his pulse roars, but he cannot allow himself to weaken. Suguru needs him – you need him. 

“She’s not waking up…”

Satoru sucks in a breath, his hands curling into the doorframe and gripping the wood until he thinks it will splinter beneath his grip. And it might. Satoru has to be mindful of the strength he uses. 

‘She’s not waking up.’ The phrase echoes through his head until it’s the only thing he can process. You’re not waking up. His wife isn’t waking up. 

“Is she…” Satoru doesn't even know if he can say what he wants to know – what he needs to know. The words make him ill. “Is she breathing?” 

Suguru chokes out a desperate sound. He hadn’t even considered…

And he doesn't want to. 

His hand seizes one of yours, wrapping tightly around your fingers as he pulls it into his chest as he did before. He pleads for you to wake up and feel his heart pulse against your fingers again, just as you had minutes ago. He delicately thumbs over your pulse point, hand sliding down your neck where he cradles your cheek. 

Suguru openly weeps when the thumping beat of your heart races beneath his fingers in greeting. 

“Yeah…” he sobs out weakly, pushing his forehead into your chest. “Yeah, she’s breathing.” 

Satoru sags in relief.

“Okay,” he covers his mouth with one of his palms, trying to suppress the broken sound that nearly leaves him. “Okay, that’s good.” 

Before either man can ascertain what to do, there's rustling at the doorway. It’s a quiet sound, just a soft coo and the creak of the door as it slides open. Satoru’s head whips around, his fingers twitching to activate his technique when he falters. 

Because seven year old Fushiguro Megumi stands in the doorway: his son. 

Megumi’s clutching a plush dog, one that looks remarkably familiar to his Divine Dogs. The soft, dark fur is cradled in his hands as he hugs the stuffed animal to his chest. The plush nearly conceals him entirely, and his dark, spiky hair pokes out over the red mark on the dog’s forehead. It’s a matching toy – the dark one was a gift from Suguru while the white counterpart came from Satoru. They were presents (custom-made plushies) ordered by his fathers when Megumi successfully summoned his Divine Dogs for the first time. 

Satoru still whines when Megumi prefers the dark stuffed animal to the white one. But Satoru doesn't know that Megumi snuggles the alabaster-coated dog when he’s gone on long missions. The boy barely goes anywhere without it until his father comes home. 

“What’s goin’ on?” Megumi tiredly mumbles, one of his hands lifting to rub at his eyes as he yawns. His too big shirt, one of Satoru’s shirts from their youth, hangs over his frame and covers his knees. You were the one to tuck your son into bed last night, and Satoru doesn’t have the moment to fondly think of his boy asking to wear one of his dad’s shirts to bed. 

Satoru sucks in a quiet breath, quickly glancing over his shoulder at Suguru. His husband is still on the bathroom floor, bent over your unconscious figure, but he looks up at Satoru with a silent nod. He’s alright. You’re alright. 

Satoru sighs and turns back to Megumi, suddenly glad the ensuite bathroom is hidden from the doorway to their bedroom. He doesn't want Megumi to see his mother unconscious, or his fathers’ panic. He doesn’t want Megumi to see him scared. Satoru is his father – he needs to show his son that everything is going to be alright. 

Swallowing down his tempered fear, Satoru tries to conceal the quiver of his voice when he responds to his son. 

“It’s –” Satoru stops. He can’t say ‘it’s nothing.’ Because it’s not nothing; and he won’t lie to his son. “It’s alright, Megumi.”

That’s what he decides to say instead. Satoru breathes through his nose deeply as he tries not to turn back over his shoulder to check on you again. 

“Mama’s just having some cramps, she’ll be okay.” 

Megumi nods. He knows what Satoru means, because Geto Suguru would be damned before he raised a son that thinks menstruation was ‘gross.’ Megumi doesn’t know everything – he’s still a kid, afterall. He does know, however, that his mother is plagued with terrible pain once a month, and that it’s completely natural to talk about it. 

Megumi toddles on his feet, the fatigue of the early morning hour making him uncharacteristically soft. He’s usually quite stoic for a kid, exhibiting the same, blank sort of look impassively. But no matter how quiet, you and the boys are well-adept at deciphering your kid’s feelings by now. 

With sleep tugging at his eyes, Megumi paws at his tired lids and yawns sweetly. Shifting his balance again, the boy looks up at Satoru with a tiny, sweet frown.

“Mama’s hurting?” he pouts, bottom lip sticking out slightly. His fists tighten around his stuffed dog, eyes shifting around Satoru to try to get a glimpse of you. Fortunately, Suguru has already readjusted you in his arms and you’re both hidden in the ensuite bathroom. 

“Yeah…” Satoru coughs to conceal the tremor of his voice. “Yeah, Mama’s hurting a little. But she’s strong, remember? She’ll be alright, her cramps will go away soon.” 

He doesn’t know if his words are an attempt to convince Megumi or himself. 

 From behind Satoru, Suguru strokes another thumb over your cheekbone. He inhales a shaking breath as he feels the frightful warmth of your skin. 

“C’mon…” he whispers in the tiny space that separates you. “Wake up, sweetheart. Let me see those pretty eyes again.” 

Swallowing thickly, Suguru’s throat bobs as a tear begins to leak down his cheek. 

“Please.” 

He’s lost. Suguru doesn’t know what to do other than count the seconds since you’ve gone still in his arms. Each one feels longer than the last, but Suguru continues to count them. He doesn’t know why he does it. Perhaps some part of him thinks there is a certain point at which he’ll need to call for help. Is there a distinct period of time that has to pass before you need medical attention? 

Suguru curses himself for not paying enough attention to Shoko’s basic first-aid lessons. 

Satoru’s head flicks over his shoulder, crystalline-blue eyes finding your face as his heart clenches again. He’s conflicted. More than anything, he wants to drop to his knees at your side, just as Suguru has. He wants to clutch your remaining hand and feel the pulse of your heart as a reminder that you’re still there – still breathing. His heart hurts; torn between lingering at your side and comforting his son.

But then Satoru remembers the way you look at your kids. He recalls the fond crease of your eyes when you beam down at them, smiles shining and hands drawing them into you for an embrace. You love your kids more than anything, even though you’ve only had them for a few years now. Even though they’re not your biological kids, even though they’re not babies, and despite not even wanting children before them; they’re your pride and joy. 

Satoru finds the strength within him to smile fondly. He knows you would be pushing him in Megumi’s direction if you had any semblance of consciousness right now. 

Satoru tries not to frown at the reminder of your state. 

Turning on his feet, Satoru steps away from the door, even as his heart cries out for him to return to your side. The remainder of his heart calls for his son – his boy, who is beginning to worry about his mother. It’s evident in the way Megumi shifts on his feet, fiddling with the soft fur of his stuffed pup. 

When Satoru drops to his knees in front of Megumi, he spreads his arms wide in an invitation. He doesn’t expect Megumi to accept; he rarely does. Satoru is affectionate, it’s a sentiment clear as day, and Megumi usually prefers to avoid physical touch. He’s shy that way. 

So Satoru is fondly surprised when Megumi toddles tiredly on his feet as he leans into his father’s embrace. Wrapping his arms tight around his son, Satoru stands from the floor with his heart beginning to return to a normal pace. Having Megumi in his arms is a comfort that soothes some of his rampaging nerves. The knowledge that the rest of his family is safe is a notion that eases some of the tension in his shoulders. Satoru knows he won’t find sleep for the rest of the night if he doesn’t peek into the girl’s room later to ensure they’re sleeping peacefully. 

“It’s alright, Gumi,” Satoru whispers softly, stroking a hand through the spiky strands of the boy’s hair. Megumi rests his head on Satoru’s shoulder with a sigh. “Why did you wake up so early, bud?” 

Megumi wraps an arm around Satoru’s neck, the other still cradling his pup between them. He closes his eyes and sighs sleepily once more as he mumbles in response. 

“Heard Dad yell,” he tiredly whispers. He fiddles with a strand of Satoru’s white hair before he sheepishly continues. “I was scared…”

Satoru tries his hardest not to tease the boy. He knows it’s in his nature to make light of situations with humor, but Satoru also understands that this, perhaps, is not the time. Despite wanting to make Megumi feel better by laughing off the problem, Satoru also remembers the horrible strike of panic that had bolted through him when he heard Suguru yell. 

Waking up to Suguru crying out for you as you collapsed was horrifying, and Satoru can only imagine how frightening it was for Megumi. 

“Oh Gumi, I’m sorry,” Satoru whispers, rocking on his feet in an attempt to comfort the boy. Even though Megumi isn’t a baby, Satoru cannot help the instinctive sway of his feet as he runs a hand through his hair. “Dad didn’t mean to shout, pup. He was just worried about Mom.” 

Megumi nods softly, snuggling closer to Satoru’s chest in a way that makes the father’s heart ache. 

“Can I… Can I help?” Megumi quietly questions, words spoken only for his father to hear. “Mom always makes me feel better when I’m sick.” 

Megumi mumbles something else; something that sounds like ‘don’t wan’ mom t’feel bad,’ but it’s muffled into Satoru’s neck and he barely catches it. 

Satoru smiles despite the panic still roaring in his chest. The way Megumi calls you ‘mom’ and Suguru ‘dad’ has always made him a little emotional. It took more than a year for Megumi to truly grow comfortable in your makeshift family, but eventually the boy’s cautious exterior melted away into what he really was: a kid looking for a home – a family. He was abandoned for God’s sake, Satoru knows the kid was guarded when he found him. And he had every right to be. 

But in just a few short years, Megumi has begun to call Tsumiki and the twins his sisters and on rare occasions, he’ll call Satoru his father. However, he knows those nights will always end in Satoru smothering him with affections and playful teases so he refrains from doing it often. Satoru does not take offense; he knows Megumi is shy. 

“Yeah, she takes good care of us, huh?” Satoru murmurs fondly as he rubs a hand over his son’s back. 

Before Satoru can reassure Megumi further, he’s interrupted when Suguru lets out a relieved sound over his shoulder. It’s a strange sort of combination of a sob and a gasp, but Satoru hears it all the same. 

“Sweetheart…?” Satoru hears Suguru call, voice brighter but still wavering through the short syllables. 

There’s a muffled sound of shuffling, then a groan and a cough before Suguru is concealing his tears in your neck. 

Satoru exhales with relief, shoulders sagging as his eyes slide shut. He rubs a hand over Megumi’s back in the hopes the boy doesn’t see the fear slowly seeping from his father. 

Inside the bathroom, Suguru clutches your hand tight to his chest, squeezing it thankfully and burying his face in your neck as he bends over you. Blinking slowly, you huff a choked breath and shakily reach upwards to lay your palm over Suguru’s head. Tangling your fingers in the mess of loose, dark hair you sigh deeply through your mouth. It’s a relief to feel Suguru bent over you; his weight presses into your chest and grounds you as you come back to consciousness. Though you’re still dizzy and a bit panicked, the feeling is beginning to leech from your limbs like poison from a wound. 

Waking up was startling, and there’s a lingering sense of fear buzzing beneath your skin. It frightens you, and you clutch tightly onto Suguru with a tremble. The pain still twists in your stomach, but it’s nothing compared to how you felt before you passed out. 

“Suguru…” 

His name comes out in a sort of pleading cry, not unlike a frightened child, but you cannot help the way you long for his comfort. Tears leak from your eyes, another wave of salt that you find you cannot control. 

Suguru responds to your call with a sweet coo, pressing a wet kiss to the skin of your throat and rumbling deep within his chest to reassure you that he’s still there. Brushing your hair from your eyes, Suguru leans away to peck your temple and stare down at you with relief painted across his features. 

“You’re alright, honey. ‘S okay,” he whispers warmly, soothing the tension in your brow and brushing your tears away. When your eyes crack open, staring up at him with waning fear and confusion, Suguru huffs a laugh and smiles widely. “Hey, pretty girl.” 

 Your lips quiver upwards into a sort of sad smile, but Suguru is happy to see it despite the exhaustion in your features. Squeezing his hand, you look up at the dark-haired sorcerer as his hair falls into his eyes. 

“Wha’ happened?” 

Suguru looks over his shoulder, mouthing something you can’t hear, but you know he must be talking to Satoru. The muffled sound of his voice barely reaches your ears as you wade through the stream of your consciousness. You fight to keep Suguru in focus, and fortunately manage to cling to the waking world as sounds finally return to your senses. Something that sounds like “she’s alright, Toru,” rings through the bathroom, and then there’s the sound of Satoru replying but you can’t hear it. Your heart calls out for your other husband, and you squeeze Suguru’s hand in question. 

“You passed out, darling,” Suguru looks back down at you with a sad smile. He hushes you when you wiggle, trying to sit upright. “Careful, love, careful. You scared the shit out of me, you know?” 

Shooting him a sorry glance, you allow Suguru to gently lift you to a seated position every so slowly. He leans you against him, his thick thighs on either side of your hips as he lets you rest against his chest. You nod slowly as he delicately pulls your hair from your face and wraps his arms around you. 

“Sorry.”

Suguru shakes his head with a hum. 

“Don’t apologize, baby,” he whispers. “I’m just glad you’re awake. Are you feeling alright? How’s the pain?”

You slouch into his chest, wrapping your arms around your waist and nodding as your eyes slide shut. 

“‘S not so bad. Where’s Toru?”

Suguru’s heart clenches sweetly, feeling warmed by your desire for Satoru. He adores the two of you with his entire being, and watching both of you always strikes a fond chord within his chest.

“He’s taking care of Gumi,” Suguru murmurs, looking down at you with a lovesick expression you cannot see. When you sit up straighter, Suguru accommodates your position with a scooch of his hips and his arm falling into your lap. 

“Gumi’s awake?”

“Yeah,” your husband responds quietly. “I think he heard me shout when you fell. He came in a few minutes ago, and Satoru’s comforting him.”

Suguru sounds a little guilty when he mentions his outburst. He’s not embarrassed by any means; it was a cry shouted in overwhelming fear, so he feels no bashfulness for the tone of his voice. He does, however, feel guilty that he managed to wake his son in the process. 

“He’s worried about you, I think.”

We all are, he almost finishes. 

You sag into Suguru’s chest, weight sinking into the warmth of his bare skin as you slide your hand over the arm that is wrapped around you. Just as you begin to speak, Satoru peeks his head through the doorway. His body is twisted, obscuring Megumi’s view inside the bathroom. When he finds your gaze, Satoru visibly softens. 

“Hey, sweet girl,” Satoru rumbles, a fond smile spreading across his features. “You feeling alright?”

You nod tiredly, resting your head against Suguru’s clavicle.

“That’s good. We were really worried, honey.” 

Your sigh through your nose, trying to give him an apologetic look, but the fatigue is beginning to pull your eyelids downwards. Satoru’s gaze softens even further, if at all possible, and he continues. 

“Can Megumi come in? He’s worried about you,” Satoru reiterates his partner’s words, clearly holding the boy against his chest as he speaks. 

You’re about to nod, more than happy to cuddle with your son, when Suguru interrupts. Stroking a hand over your hip, the long-haired sorcerer hums. 

“Let us come out, love,” he responds, already beginning to shift you in his lap. “We can talk about this in bed. I think everyone’s a little tired right now.” 

You nod in agreement, feeling the ache of your muscles cry out for rest. Your arm trembles weakly when you lift your hand, and you frown at the lack of strength in your limbs. Suguru hushes you sweetly as he shifts you to sit upright as he stands. 

“You’re exhausted, baby. It’s normal.” 

Satoru murmurs his agreement on the other side of the doorway, already beginning to step away to set Megumi in the middle of your massive bed. He ensures the boy is comfortable as he stands upright, stretching his shoulders and turning to watch as Suguru hoists you up onto his hips slowly. Satoru figured he wasn’t going to let you walk after what happened the first time you tried. 

Suguru’s hand is carefully cradling your head and the other wraps beneath your hips, keeping you stable and pressed against his big frame. The sorcerer is incredibly strong from the years of exorcizing curses and teaching students, so carrying you to the bed, despite your muffled protests, is an easy venture. 

Setting you on the bed gently, you shift quickly to face Megumi as you lay back against the sheets. You nestle quickly into Suguru’s previous place in bed, already reaching out for your son as he nuzzles forward to latch onto your front. 

“Hey, hun,” you whisper kindly, brushing dark strands from Megumi’s eyes. “What’s going on, Gumi?”

The boy looks up at you, still clutching his Divine Dog plush, and frowns. Your head tilts in confusion, and you watch as Megumi makes himself comfortable in your arms, cuddling close to your stomach and closing his eyes. You don’t protest, heart warming sweetly as the boy snuggles close. He doesn’t usually cuddle like this, so you’ll take every opportunity to hug him as you can. 

“Dad said you’re feeling bad,” he mumbles into the stuffed dog now pressed between you. “‘M gonna make you feel better. Like you do when I’m sick.” 

You smile. Heart full, your eyes slide shut as you lean forward to press a gentle kiss to the tired boy’s forehead. He mumbles something else, but he’s fading fast. Soon he’s lost to slumber, and he snoozes peacefully in your embrace. 

“Thank you, Megumi,” you whisper as you press another soft kiss to your son’s forehead. Looking up at Satoru with tears brimming in your eyes, you find the white-haired sorcerer is already looking at you. There’s fondness spilling from his smile and a sweet gentleness in his expression, and he looks utterly lovesick. 

“Hey,” Satoru murmurs. 

“Hi.” 

The Six Eyes user steps away for a moment, nodding at Suguru who whispers that he’s going to step out to get you water and your medicine. Satoru knows he’s also going to check in on the girls, so he gives Suguru a smile and a peck on the cheek as he slides around the bed to your back. 

When Satoru climbs into the silken sheets, he immediately presses his bare chest into your back and wraps his strong arms around you and his son. Pressing his soft lips to the nape of your neck, he pulls you and Megumi into his chest as he relaxes. You feel the familiar tingle of Infinity wrap around you and smile tiredly. Satoru is always protecting you and your family. The technique easily wraps around you and Megumi in addition to Satoru, and you know the sorcerer will easily adapt it to cover Suguru soon too. 

That’s just Satoru; he’s always looking out for his family. 

When you sigh deeply and snuggle back into your husband, Satoru presses another gentle kiss to your neck and you feel him shake. 

“Toru?”

The man shivers again, and when you shift, turning slightly to see his face, your face crumples as you find tears leaking from Satoru’s eyes. He looks utterly relieved, but his mouth still twitches in a sad sort of way and his sky-blue eyes shimmer with salty tears. For all his silly teasing and childlike humor, Satoru rarely looks so… scared. He’s always so strong – the strongest. But there are truly rare circumstances in which Gojo Satoru is confronted with true fear. 

Circumstances in which he remembers how vulnerable his family can be. 

“Oh, Satoru…”

Satoru buries his face in your neck again, concealing his tears as he calms down. 

“I was so worried, baby. Oh my God,” he mutters into your skin. “I woke up and you were on the floor and Sugu was crying…” 

You pull his hands tighter around you, careful not to wake Megumi. Stroking gentle circles into the muscle of his forearms, you coo a soft sound to soothe him. 

“‘M alright now. Just a little bit of pain, it’s mostly gone.”

Satoru nods, clinging to your back as he finally grounds himself through the gentle touch of your fingers on his skin. He pulls you closer, seeming as though he’s trying to fuse his body to yours with how tight he binds himself to you. It’s the soft contact of your skin against his that soothes the beat of his heart and loosens the tension of his muscles. The tingly feeling that lingers on his skin where you press into him leaves trails of prickled nerves in their wake, as if physical contact between your bare skin incites a biological reaction beneath his flesh. 

With you in his arms, tightly wrapped in his embrace where he can feel the pulse of your heart against his chest, Satoru finds serenity. 

You’re here. And you’re safe. 

Satoru chews on his lip as he sighs. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispers, tucking his chin into your neck and dropping a hand to rub his palm over the side of your stomach. It’s uncanny, you think, that he already knows exactly where it hurts without you mentioning it. Satoru pays far more attention than people give him credit for. “I’m sorry I can’t do anything more to take it away.” 

You shake your head, fatigued eyes closing as you focus on the feeling of Satoru’s big hands and the gentle circles he massages into you. 

Satoru continues in a voice uncharacteristically weak for the Strongest. 

“You were… alone and in pain,” he mumbles, guilt seeping into his tone as he frowns. “And I didn’t even know – we didn’t.” 

Satoru carefully pulls your hair away from your neck to press a kiss to your bare shoulder and then one more against the skin of your throat. He inhales a wave of your familiar scent and flutters his eyes closed as he sinks into your back. 

“I don’t want you to suffer alone, my love.” 

You stroke a contemplative finger over his arm, humming quietly as you shift Megumi in your arms. 

“Okay, Toru,” you whisper as you find the mirth in your exhausted figure to tease him. “You want me to wake you up at the ass crack of dawn when I’ve got cramps?” 

Satoru muffles a small chuckle into your neck and you enjoy the feeling of his chest shaking with the feeling. 

“Yeah, baby. Even then. Especially then.” 

You huff a breath of laughter through your nose, only stopping when you swiftly inhale as another cramp seizes your abdomen. It’s strong, but nothing like the ones you were having earlier. You can manage these. Satoru leans up on his elbow when you stiffen, lifting his other hand to check the hot water bottle Suguru had returned to your stomach. 

When Satoru pulls the bottle away, his brow furrows and he hisses when he finds faint hints of inflamed skin where you’ve pressed it too tight to your belly. It’s too hot and too close, he realizes. It’s burning you. 

Satoru nearly sits upright quickly, his frame leaning over yours as he gasps faintly. 

“Honey…” He’s on the verge of scolding you, but he sees the way you wince through another cramp and decides against it. Satoru looks back down at the hot water bottle and the way you clutch it tightly to combat the waves of throbbing in your belly. 

“This is burning you,” he states it obviously. 

“Hmm,” you respond in agreement. “Feels nice.” 

Satory looks down at you with pain in his features, face twisted into a frown and his crystalline eyes a shade duller. 

“Baby, it’s hurting you – How can…?” 

Satoru trails off. He thinks about how terribly you must have been aching to continue pressing something that was burning you into your skin. How agonizing were your cramps that the pain of the burn was comforting? 

Satoru lays back down, a frown on his lips as he wraps his arm back around you and lays his palm over the hot water bottle. If you’re going to keep it pressed into your skin, then he can make sure it doesn’t get too warm by leaving his hand against it.

“My god, baby… I’m so sorry,” he whispers. He can’t even comprehend how agonizing this must be for you. Satoru kisses your nape again. He apologizes again, and you almost miss the silly Satoru who would typically be teasing you right now. “I’m sorry I can’t do anything.” 

You yawn, finally feeling exhaustion begin to drag you beneath the slow, rocking waves of slumber. Pushing yourself deeper into your husband’s embrace and squeezing your son tight once more, you sigh out a few more words before you finally sink into sleep’s warm hands. 

“You are doing something,” you murmur, pulling his hand up to your mouth to kiss it tiredly. “You’re here, Satoru. I don’t think I can do this alone anymore.” 

When Suguru climbs back into bed on Megumi’s other side, he kisses the fond smile on Satoru’s lips and teases his partner about the stars in his eyes. The crystalline-eyed sorcerer refutes Suguru’s quip by reaching out to gently slap his bicep, but it’s all in mirthful adoration. Suguru leans over to press a tender kiss to your sleeping brow and then one to his son’s, before he settles behind Megumi and sighs contentedly. 

“She’s sleeping?” Suguru whispers, voice barely carried through the quiet night. He stares down at your face, the peaceful expression on your lips far more comforting than the limp, placid look of unconsciousness he remembers. Satoru watches his husband watch you, adoration swelling in his heart like an ebbing tide. Unbound by all but the moon, Satoru swears his heart only grows fonder each time he truly takes in his partners. 

“She’s sleeping,” he confirms sleepily, still staring up at Suguru with warmth in his chest. 

“Good.” 

Suguru’s response is sighed out thankfully, his shoulders deflating with the tension easing away from his muscle. He wraps his arms around Megumi and pulls himself closer to the boy, smiling when he easily cuddles into his father. Not often does Suguru have the opportunity to snuggle his son, so he eagerly grins as Megumi’s sleeping form curls near. 

“She’s early,” Satoru mentions plainly from across Suguru. “She wasn’t supposed to start until next week.”

The dark-haired sorcerer nods, recalling the date he marked in his phone. He and Satoru both kept track; it was easier that way. At this point, though, Suguru is certain he doesn't need his calendar to know these things. Your anniversary is ingrained in his memory, as is every one of your important dates. The three of you have spent more than a decade together, this kind of instinct was certain to develop at some point or another. 

“Yeah,” Suguru sighs. He twists slowly to glance tiredly at the clock on his bedside. “She took some painkillers at midnight, can you write that down? If she wakes again she can take some more.” 

Satoru nods, a hand already reaching for his phone on the nightstand behind him. It was second-nature to jot down the time you took medication. You always tried to keep track yourself, but sometimes noting the time slipped your mind, and you were left trying to recall the last time you took them. Satoru easily adds the time to his notes, and marks the date in his calendar to adjust your future schedule later. He checks that there’s still a bottle of your preferred painkiller in his nightstand drawer and a granola bar to eat when you take them. 

When he sets the phone down, he looks back over at Suguru, who sleepily stares down at your sleeping face. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, but Satoru can see where Suguru has slid his around yours, pressing two of his fingers into the pulse point of your wrist. 

He’s counting your heartbeats – making sure you’re still breathing. Because Suguru remembers the way you crumpled all too clearly. 

Sighing a shaking breath as he familiarizes himself with the gentle thump of your lifeline, Satoru slides a hand around you and his son, and he lays it across his lover with a sad smile. Suguru looks up with tired eyes, the dark bags beneath his lashes barely visible in the night hour. They match the ones beneath your eyes and probably Satoru’s too. 

“Hey,” Satoru mumbles. “She’s alright, Sugu.” 

Suguru nods, finally sinking into the mattress and pressing a final kiss to Megumi’s hair as he makes himself comfortable. Satoru does the same, delicately squeezing the hand still wrapped around yours and cradled sweetly at your chest. 

“We’re alright,” Suguru confirms, eyes finally sinking closed as he falls back asleep with part of his family in his embrace. “We’re alright.” 

In the morning, you awake to two Divine Dogs guarding the foot of your bed. The white one sits with its side pressed against the dark one, and both face the bedroom door. You awake alone in bed, but you can hear distant voices quietly chatting in the hall. The little pups’ ears are perked upwards, diligently listening to the conversation outside. 

When you sit up, the white one flips his head over his shoulder, happily sticking his tongue out in a joyful expression. He pants and his tail thumps against the floor as you beckon him closer. 

“Good morning, pup,” you laugh as it wiggles excitedly when you scratch behind his ears. The dark-coated one quickly follows soon after, eagerly joining his brother for scratches. “What are you two doin’ here?” 

The pups tilt their heads with that silly, tongue-out expression, as if communicating their eagerness. You stifle your laughter and carefully stand from the sheets, making your way into the kitchen with the dogs on your heels. 

When you enter the living space, you find Suguru on the couch with the twins on either side of his lap. They’re eagerly leaning over one of Suguru’s books, excitedly murmuring amongst themselves as their father reads aloud. It’s one of his novels, and you chuckle knowing that the girls were probably the ones to pick it out for him to read. 

Tsumiki is at the table, leaning over some kind of puzzle, and her brother is at her side. She looks up as you come in, offering you a gentle smile and a nod before she goes back to her puzzle. Megumi sits on his knees in the chair, spiky hair unkempt as always and a look of concentration on his face. 

Before you can speak, Satoru is pressed against your back, greeting you with a gentle hum.

“G’morning, sweetheart,” he coos, pecking your cheek and sliding a croissant into your hands and holding a glass of water in his other. “Eat up. You can take some medicine when you’re done.” 

He always makes sure you eat before you take your medicine. Your heart thumps happily beneath your ribs, and you smile in return, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips and thanking him. 

“Thanks, love.” 

Satoru hums and slides his free hand over your waist to squeeze your hip. He opens his mouth to say something, but the twins interrupt him. They gasp, standing from Suguru’s lap and eagerly racing over to greet you. 

Suguru chuckles, but still gently chides them as they race into the kitchen. 

“Careful!” 

Nanako and Mimiko crash into your hips with eager sounds, each grabbing you around the waist and crying out.

“Mama!” They cry worriedly, scrambling to hug you as they bury their faces in your legs. They start pushing you towards the couch with little hands, earnestly murmuring things you cannot make out. You look up at Satoru with a confused furrow of your brow, and your husband only chuckles and holds his hands up in a gesture of ‘i’ve got nothing to do with this.’ 

When you reach the couch, the girls scramble to make you sit beside Suguru, who is all too eager to wrap an arm around your shoulders to accommodate your arrival. 

“Good morning,” he hums as he pecks your temple. 

Nanako is already sliding a blanket into your lap as Mimiko climbs onto the couch, depositing herself at your side and snuggling into you. 

“Good morning,” you respond, watching with a fond smile as the girls make themselves comfortable in your lap. “What’s all this?” 

Suguru chuckles, reaching out to gently ruffle Nanako’s hair as she smiles. The girl looks up at her father with a beaming grin and snuggles closer to you when you wrap an arm around her to keep her stable. Your husband leans closer with a smile, murmuring quietly for only you to hear. 

“Megumi told them you were sick last night,” he fondly whispers. “I think it worried them.” 

Your head tilts in an expression of tenderness, and you give Suguru a knowing look before you lean down to kiss both your girls on the forehead. 

“Good morning, girls,” you rumble happily. “I’m alright, sweethearts. Megumi and your dads took very good care of me.”

Mimiko wiggles closer, snuggling into you and her sister with big, worried eyes. 

“Really?” her tiny voice murmurs. “Megumi-nii said you were hurting.” 

You can almost hear the pout in her voice without looking down at her. Giggling happily, you stroke a hand over her head and squeeze her close. 

“He even brought out his puppies!” Nanako quickly adds, squirming as he attempts to find the two Divine Dogs. “He said we couldn’t come in to see you because you needed to rest.” 

The two Shikigami have already returned to their owner, sitting on either side of Megumi’s chair with wagging tails and their tongues still sticking out. The boy is absentmindedly petting one while he focuses on the puzzle, shyly avoiding your gaze as if embarrassed. 

Your heart clenches sweetly again, and you turn to look at Satoru with a knowing smile. The sorcerer returns the look as he steps into the kitchen for your painkillers, ruffling Megumi’s hair as he goes. The boy lets out a muffled sound of discontent, but he doesn’t fix his messy strands. 

“Did he? That’s very sweet of him.” 

You and Suguru do not mention the faint pinkness of Megumi’s round cheeks. 

When you lean into Suguru’s side, the croissant in your hand warm like your lover’s body heat, you sigh happily. The cramps are a faint memory now, even though you know they’ll return soon. For now, you can savor the warmth of your family. 

“You’re taking the day off then, I suppose,” you look up at Suguru with an arched brow. Suguru smiles, leaning his head into yours to rest there. 

“Yeah,” he sighs, cuddling close to you and the twins. “We all are.” 

You suppose you can deal with the consequences of their unscheduled departure from work and school later… You’re far too warm and content now. When Satoru returns, sliding a glass of water into your empty hand and two painkillers into your other, he patiently waits as you take the pills. Then he sets the glass on the side table beside the mug of raspberry leaf tea he brewed for your cramps,  and then he eagerly dives into the limited space left on the couch. 

Scrambling into the twins’ space, Nanako and Mimiko giggle happily as Satoru presses kisses over their faces and squirms onto the couch. He plops Mimiko into his lap so he can sit at your side, laughing when the girls squeal happily. As you settle, you see Megumi look up from the table, shyly glancing away from his sister. Tsumiki gives him a knowing look as she climbs from her chair and eagerly walks over to Suguru. 

Suguru is too happy to allow her the tiny portion of space on his other side, and Tsumiki slides onto the couch, her side pressed tight to Suguru’s. She offers you a good morning and laughs when the twins attempt to squirm away from Satoru’s tickling fingers. 

Eventually Megumi stands from his place at the table, looking over at the couch as he debates something internally. A moment later, he stands in front of Suguru, shyly shifting on his feet as he looks at the only empty space on the couch. 

Megumi doesn’t need to say anything, because Suguru is already lifting the boy into his lap with a smile. Saving his son the embarrassment of shyly asking for the affection he usually avoids, Suguru chuckles as he deposits the last member of his family into his lap. 

“We could all use a day off,” he murmurs into your temple as he kisses you sweetly. 

You sigh happily, soaking in the warmth of the morning sun and the laughter of your family. 

“Yeah, that sounds nice.” 

The moment is only interrupted when Megumi’s Divine Dogs, only pups at this age, launch themselves onto the couch, eager to join the snuggles. The seven of you dissolve into laughter as you try to maneuver the excited puppies, and you can’t ask for anything else. 

“Megumi!” You laugh, trying to brush white dog hair from your face. “Control your summons!” 

The boy only laughs happily as the dark-coated puppy wiggles into his lap. 

No, he doesn’t think he will. 

bonus:

gojo, looking down at reader and geto: you're so cute and pretty

reader, sleepily: I could beat the shit out of you

geto, nodding along: she could

gojo, lovingly: I know

a/n: no I am not back to writing just yet :')) I wrote this in a pain induced haze while having some terrible cramps so if you have terrible periods like me, this one is for you! this is purely based on my experience with cramps, and everyone is different, but I just wanted to write something for me :") I've never passed out but I've felt like it and I know it's super scary so I hope this can provide some comfort for you if you need it <3

ALSO this was written as comfort for jjk 236 :'))) bc everyone in this fic deserved better and I refuse to acknowledge canon

SATOSUGU X READER FIC RECS // mdni!

getting caught - @/nanaslutt

two for one - @/madamechrissy

good girls go to heaven - @/cumironi

threes a crowd - @/gojonanami

porn stars - @/webism

yakuza fiancé - @/gojonanami

study sessions - @/storusangel

government hooker!? - @/screampied

raspberry leaves - @/sunmoonjune

eiffel tower - @/nanaslutt

eiffel tower pt2 - @/nanaslutt

pervs - @/madamechrissy

double stuffed - @/peachedtv

twice the trouble - @/satoruhour

cold ice popsicle! - @/cumironi

roach - @/obsesssedblerd

good grief, suguru! - @/ohimsummer

come rest your bones next to me - @/twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat

spoiled little girlfriend - @/cumironi

one, two, three (it’s not only you and me) - @/justrustandstardust

home - @/delulustateofmind

rivalry - @/nanaslutt

I DONT OWN ANY OF THESE FICS!! // CREDS TO THE WRITERS!! <3

being a ua! student with toya todoroki meant that the two of you were almost always seen with the other, and you two were always getting in trouble. whether it was for bunking class, sneaking out of the dormitory at night, making out in empty classrooms during lunch break… you guys were always in meetings with your parents and your homeroom teacher at least once a week.

your classmates were practically sick of you guys at this point. they have to deal with you and toya kissing in front of your classroom door every single morning, and they couldnt say anything about it unless they wanted to deal with toya’s anger issues first thing in the morning. however, they couldnt deny that the two of you were an adorable couple, and said that if you guys broke up, theyd “stop believing in love”.

however, the one time where you and toya didnt get along was in training. your teachers always tried to keep the two of you separated, but on the off chance that you both were paired up or on the same team, it never went well. you two were both much too stubborn and hardheaded to listen to each other, and training together often ended up in heated arguments.

usually, toya would make it up to you by buying your favourite snacks from the store and a bouquet of flowers that he knew you loved. he hated when the two of you fought, and all that he wanted by the end of the night was to be back in your arms. it more than often also ended with toya in your bed, with him either holding you gently against his chest and his hand in your hair, or the sheets getting ruined from stains from all of the snacks toya had brought for you as an apology.

meeting toya's family was an eventful experience. on one hand, his mother and younger siblings all adored you, and instantly welcomed you to the family. however, his father was much more critical and judgemental of you. he practically interrogated you, much to toya's frustration, and sent you glares all throughout dinner. the rest of the family had told you not to take enji's scepticism to heart, yet you couldnt help the saddened feeling in your chest. thankfully, or unthankfully for you, your boyfriend was extremely observant, and for the rest of your evening at the todoroki home, toya made sure to be constantly touching you in some form to remind you of how much he loved you. whether it was his hand on your thigh, head against your shoulder, his lips gently pressing against your cheek or forehead... it didnt matter. toya wanted you to feel comfortable being around his family, and he knew that his touch relaxed you. and anyway, toya loved the feeling of his skin against yours... so it was a win-win.

being a ua! student with toya were three years of constant laughter, love, occasional sadness, and overcoming hardships in both your relationship and your school work. and you wouldnt want it any other way.

© sukuyia™ — dont copy, plagiarise, repost, modify and/or translate my works

Just This Once

Pairing: Kakashi x Female!Reader

Warnings: smut, breeding kink, he gets lost in the sauce frfr, situationship… ish?, this man wants to RUN, disorganised attachment style (primarily avoidant), penis in vagina sex, teasing, edging (accidental), unprotected sex, creampie

Word Count: 5.3k

Summary: Kakashi discovers that he has a breeding kink. It's kind of a spiritual experience.

Inspired by @rookie98writes's fic Leave It On

—

Kakashi isn’t used to the strange sort of domesticity that comes with being in a... whatever this is. It’s not quite a relationship. A situationship, maybe. He’d say it’s something more than friends-with-benefits, but the two of you aren’t really friends, either.  

You come together every now and then. That’s all. Like two passing ships in the night. 

So why is he standing in front of your stove, cooking dinner while you sort through the pile of unopened mail on your kitchen table? Why did he offer to water your plants while you were away? Why does he want to do anything for you? 

Kakashi knows what it’s like trying to play catch-up after some time away from home—two months, in your case. He’d knocked on your door a few minutes ago with the intention of returning your key, and he must have caught you right after you got back from the store if the two bags of groceries on your kitchen counter were any indication. 

You looked so dead on your feet that Kakashi took over from there, unprompted. But now, as he stirs the pot of flavourful soup simmering away on the stove, his mind sees fit to wander.  

What the hell is he doing?  

He’s getting too attached. That’s what he’s doing.  

It’s that time again—time to cut and run, just as he always does when things start to become complicated. Kakashi makes a habit of ending any potential connection before it can even start, because he can’t afford to lose anyone else. He can’t get hurt if he never lets anyone in. It’s easier that way. 

“I need to schedule my injection,” you mutter to yourself as you read through one letter. Then you sigh and toss it back down onto the table, before you lean back in your chair and rub your tired eyes. “We should probably get used to using condoms again until I can book an appointment.” 

Your birth control must be overdue, then.  

“Sure,” Kakashi answers, feigning unbothered. The two of you used condoms in the beginning, but after a particularly gruesome mission that nearly saw him home in a box, Kakashi stopped reaching for the bedside drawer, and you stopped asking him to.  

He should have known then that he was getting too attached. 

Still, it’s your body. Whatever you want. He’ll end things in the morning either way. 

As Kakashi samples a bit of the soup he’s minding on the stove, pausing for a moment to add a bit more salt, it suddenly sinks in – really sinks in – what could happen if the two of you aren’t careful.  

He could get you pregnant. 

A jolt of arousal shoots through him.

Kakashi doesn’t want children, not now, not ever, which is why it doesn’t make a lick of sense that such a thing would turn him on. He likes the idea of his seed taking root inside of you. He might even enjoy it, the imagery his mind conjures—you bent over for him, begging him to give you a baby, your pretty yukata hiked up around your waist…  

His clan crest embroidered on the back of it.  

Kakashi swears. Loudly.

You startle, looking over at him in alarm. “What happened? Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” he lies. Then he proceeds to play it off like he burned himself, but he isn’t fine. No, that single thought, that single fantasy, scares the complete and utter shit out of him—but it turns him on even more, and that’s so much worse.  

He’s already too attached. Way too fucking attached. 

—

Kakashi doesn’t do feelings. He has them, of course, much like any other person, but he doesn’t let them show very often, and he certainly doesn’t talk about them. He won’t say in so many words that he cares; instead, he shows you through his actions alone. 

His knees brush the underside of your thighs as he settles between your legs, bracing himself with one hand beside your head.  

What a vision you make, spread out for him like this.  

Your lamp had blown when you went to turn it on, leaving the streetlights to illuminate your features in a sickly hue of yellow-green. It isn’t romantic in the least, but he can’t help thinking that you’ve never looked more beautiful than in this moment—maybe because it’s the last time he’ll ever get to see you like this.  

The sight of you, so needy and wanting, fills his chest with something bittersweet.  

The tomoe of his sharingan spins lazily as he memorises the curves of your body, the muss of your hair, the rise and fall of your chest as you work to recover from your first orgasm of the night. His fingers are still tacky with your essence, and he smears the residual wetness over the head of his cock to make the entry a little easier. 

“You should wear a condom,” comes your breathy whisper, but you make no move to stop him. Your eyes almost seem to glow as you peer up at him in the dark, worrying your lower lip between your teeth. 

“Mm. Do you want me to?” 

His question hangs heavy in the air.  

The only things Kakashi can hear are your soft breaths and the sound of his own steady heartbeat, which quickens with every silent second that passes.  

You want to say no, he realises.  

He wants you to say no. 

“I like it better without,” you answer quietly, and the implication isn’t lost on him. Not when you look up at him with those big doe eyes, like you don’t know the risk. 

Because there is a risk, and he knows it. Kakashi hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it all night—wicked thoughts, terrible thoughts—thoughts of filling your fertile womb with his seed, thoughts of watching your belly grow round with his child, thoughts of seeing his clan sigil stamped between your shoulder blades like a mark of ownership. 

His.  

Against his better judgement, Kakashi does exactly what he shouldn’t do.  

He agrees.

“Just this once.”  

Just like he says every other time—except every other time, there hasn't been a risk.

Your coy little smile is what prompts him to lower down onto an arm and settle more of his weight on you. Kakashi dips his head to kiss you indulgently, savouring the taste of you, the feel of you beneath him. He kisses you like he hopes to convey just how much he missed you while you were gone, like you might be able to taste the unspoken words that linger in his mouth. 

He kisses you like he means it—and he does. That’s why he needs to go. 

As his tongue twines with yours, Kakashi fills you in a slow, beautiful glide that wrenches a whimper from your throat. 

He knows he should go easy on you, but he relishes in the rapid flutter of your walls as you struggle to adjust to him after so much time apart. A surge of masculine pride washes over him, tinged with a hint of guilt for stretching you open like this. He isn’t exactly small, after all, but you take him so well. 

To ease any potential discomfort, he smooths his hand up the soft skin of your thigh in a soothing caress, before he trails gentle, placating kisses along your jawline. “Is this okay?” Kakashi asks, voice low, only to be rewarded with a particularly strong contraction that makes his toes curl. 

“More than okay,” you sigh. 

As a test, he shifts his hips. When Kakashi hears your breath hitch, he knows that you can handle more.  

He starts slow, rocking into you sensually, but he already knows that he isn’t going to last. It’s been just as long for him, and you’re tighter than you’ve ever been.  

“God, Kakashi, you feel so good.”  

So do you. Kakashi sucks a bruise on your neck in response, if only to muffle the sound of his own pleasure when your perfect cunt clenches around him again.  

He needs to pace himself, or he’ll finish too soon—but then you ask him for more, and what else can he do but oblige you?

He speeds up, not overly so, just enough that both of you can hear the slick, sloppy sounds of your lovemaking. The smell of your arousal permeates the air, and he’s tempted to have another taste. 

Later. 

“You’re so wet,” he murmurs into your ear. “Did you miss me that much?” 

Maybe he’s reassurance-seeking – just a little – but your answering whine tells him what he already knows. 

He’ll miss this. He’ll miss you. That’s why he needs to go. 

“Stay with me,” you rasp. You’ve always been good at noticing when he’s stuck in his head, but right now, Kakashi can’t help but wonder if you’ve just read his thoughts. You see through him so easily. It’s one of the things he likes about you. 

“Sorry,” he says with genuine apology, leaning in to capture your lips again. You let out a pleased hum into his mouth and lift your thighs up a little higher—an offering, one he’s more than happy to accept, even if he doesn’t plan to reciprocate.  

It’s selfish, he knows. 

The new angle does something to him, or maybe it’s because he's well aware that it would be even easier to fill you up this way. He reaches deeper like this, and the tilt of your hips would perfectly hold his cum in place, increasing the chances that it’ll take. 

He wants it to take. 

Kakashi exhales a long, shaky breath. He shouldn’t want that as much as he does. He shouldn’t want it at all.  

“Close?”  

Yes, but he’s not going to tell you that. Kakashi pulls back to look at you, only to find you gazing up at him like he’s hung the moon. It makes his heart ache.  

He stamps it down. 

“I could be,” he teases lightly—a non-answer. “Are you?” 

When you open your mouth to respond, however, he snaps his hips forward suddenly to make you trip over your words. “I— shit,” you swear, and his eyes shine with silent laughter. Your own narrow playfully as you add, “I could be too, if you keep that up.”  

“Really?” 

To pick on you a little, Kakashi withdraws from your tight heat more slowly than he has all night, agonisingly slowly, until only the head of him remains inside; and then he lingers there, purposely, until the stirrings of impatience start to take you over.  

It’s cute, the frown you give him, the pout he sees beginning to form.  

“Don’t be mean,” you tell him sulkily. 

His lips tug up at the corners, revealing a hint of prominent canine. “Maa, I didn’t realise you were in a rush,” Kakashi drawls. “And here I wanted to take my time with you.”  

Before you can read too much into what he’s just said, he slams home. Hard.

Your startled gasp brings on a flicker of self-satisfaction deep within. Kakashi relishes in the knowledge that only he can make you feel like this—especially when he starts to fuck you in earnest, prompting you to fling your arms around his shoulders.  

“F-Fuck, Kakashi, oh my god—” 

“That’s it,” he encourages gently. “Hold onto me.” He likes the closeness of it, the intimacy.

You cling to him like your life depends on it, which brings about a funny feeling in his chest that he can’t quite shake—something warm and gooey and affectionate.  

Kakashi stamps that down, too, and traces the line of your neck with his tongue, kissing and sucking at your sensitive skin until you shiver. Seeing your throat so littered with love bites unearths something within him, something primal, that he’s always refused to name.

He likes seeing the marks he’s left on you. He wants them to mean something. He wants them to mean that you’re his. 

He’s too attached.  

To distract himself from what he intends to do in the morning, Kakashi picks up the pace, flesh smacking against flesh as he snaps his hips into yours, fast and rough, exactly how you want it.  

It doesn’t last long. He’s too worked up.  

Kakashi knows he’ll come before you do if he continues like this, but when he tries to slow down, you dig your heels insistently into his ass. 

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop, please—” 

“I’ll have to pull out soon,” he says raggedly, even though the thought of finishing in you already has him ready to blow.

When Kakashi feels you lock your ankles behind him, he nearly does.  

“Come inside me,” you whine, your breath fanning hot over the shell of his ear.  

His thoughts screech to a halt. You want him to come inside you, knock you up— 

“Fuck,” he curses, stopping abruptly, buried all the way to the hilt. His cock throbs wildly, desperate for release, forcing him to tightly grip the the sheets above your head in order to stave it off. 

If he moves right now, he’s done for.  

When you make a quiet, frustrated sound deep in your throat and wiggle your hips, Kakashi barely manages to hang on. He can feel that tell-tale flutter inside of you, the one that indicates exactly how close you are, but he’s closer. His breaths come out in short, sharp pants as he tries to hold himself together.  

You finish first. Always. 

“Don’t be mean,” you say again, but you sound a little more petulant this time.  

Kakashi lets out an exhausted sort of laugh and presses a wet smack of a kiss just beneath your ear, making you giggle. “You like it when I’m mean.”  

“I like it when you’re nice,” you clap back, voice breathy. 

Kakashi hums knowingly. “All right. I can be nice.”  

Then he pulls back just enough to pepper your face with kisses, and you squeal in delight, though it soon tapers off into a moan when he starts to trail them down your throat, each one more sensual than the last. He palms one of your breasts, gently squeezing, tweaking a nipple— 

“Come on,” you whine, digging your heels into his ass a second time. 

He laughs softly at that. No more teasing. You want him to be nice.

You inhale sharply when Kakashi picks back up where he left off, this time with quick, shallow thrusts that target your g-spot. He smooths his hand down your side, savouring the softness of your skin, then he slides it in between your bodies to rub your clit in just the way you like—the way he remembers you like, because he’s too fucking attached. And sure enough, when your hips buck from the added sensation, he knows that it’s working for you. 

“If you—If you edge me again, I swear to god—” 

Upon hearing the indignation in your voice, Kakashi laughs softly. “I won’t.” 

Then he remembers that he won’t have a chance to edge you again. Not after tonight. 

His jaw tenses at the reminder. 

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you gasp, holding onto him, needing him, which pulls him right back into the present. “Come with me. Please?” 

Kakashi bites back a groan and slides in deeper, readying to do what his body craves. 

No. He can’t come with you. He’d have to finish inside in order for that to happen. 

And just like that, he’s back to teetering on the edge. The filth his mind conjures nearly proves to be his undoing—a vivid image of your tight, wet cunt wringing out every drop of his cum until it takes, tying you to him, making you need him. Making you his. The threat of it simmers under his skin, but it’s starting to feel more like a guarantee. 

Get her there, then pull out. 

Kakashi repeats those words in his head like a mantra, over and over, like it’ll ensure that he lasts, and it works—at least until you start to move your hips in time with his thrusts. You meet him at the perfect angle, sucking him deep on every stroke, allowing him to slide just beyond your cervix and into that spot that sends your voice into a fever pitch. 

A choked sob escapes you as you rake your nails down his back, leaving red lines in your wake. The sting of it only sends him higher, and he sinks his teeth into the junction of your neck and shoulder to prevent himself from blowing too soon. 

“Right there, Kakashi, right fucking there—” 

Right there, so deep within you that if he came right now— 

He groans when he imagines what would happen, and it all ends with his baby in your belly and his family crest on your back. It shouldn’t turn him on as much as it does, yet he fucks into you with purpose, now—hard, deep, powerful thrusts that knock your headboard into the wall. 

Kakashi knows exactly what that purpose is. The primal part of his brain won’t let him forget it. 

“Yes, just like that, fuck me, make me fucking yours—” 

He kisses you to shut you up, because if he hears another syllable, he’s sure to fill you to the brim. It’s not a gentle kiss, not now. He holds your head in place with a firm grip on your jaw, shoves his tongue into your mouth to assert his control, and still, he recites his mantra. 

Get her there, then pull out.  

Get her there, then pull out.  

Get her there, then—  

You jerk your head away to gulp in a breath of fresh air, chest heaving from exertion, and Kakashi’s eyes sweep over your face for any sign of discomfort. What he finds is the opposite, and he drinks in the pleasured scrunch of your brows, the hazy flutter of your eyelids, the kiss-swollen state of your lips. 

Seeing your muscles tense and strain as you struggle to keep your eyes on his is one of the most intimate things he’s ever experienced.  

“Come inside me,” you beg, and he can hear the desperation there, see it written all over your pretty face. “I need it, I fucking need it, Kakashi, give me your cum—” 

“I’ll give it to you,” he chokes out. Anything for you. Anything you want. 

The way your fingers wrench into his hair belies a hunger that matches his own, and you drag him down for another kiss, messy and insistent, demanding that he make good on his promise to pump you full. He can feel the ripple of your inner walls as you come undone, feel the painfully tight squeeze of your legs around his waist, holding him there, ensuring that he stays; and never in his life has he felt so overwhelmed.  

He can’t pull out. Not now. Not when you’re so willing to milk him dry. 

Kakashi kisses you with everything that he is as he shoves himself impossibly deep inside of you, acting solely on instinct to drown your cervix in hot, sticky spend. He lets out a sound of pure male satisfaction that you eagerly swallow down, your tongue massaging his in tune with every erratic jerk of his hips as he empties himself inside of you, painting your insides white, marking you as his.  

It feels good. It feels right. 

He’s too attached. 

He doesn’t care. 

As he comes down from his high, all Kakashi can think about is how fucking risky it is, what he’s just done, which only ruins him more when the post-orgasm clarity finally hits. 

Why the hell did he do that?  

What the hell did he do?

Your thighs tremble and shake, a sign that he’s done his job well, though he feels no pride in it—just a growing sense of panic.  

He needs to go. He needs to go right now. Not tomorrow. Now. He needs to get the hell out of here and never look back, right fucking now.  

Then he hears your quiet sob, and his heart leaps into his throat. Kakashi jerks his head down to look at you, and when he sees the tears rolling down your cheeks, he actually does panic.  

“Did I— Shit,” he quickly pulls out to check on you, more attentive than he’s ever been, “Did I hurt you?” 

It wouldn’t be the first time he’s accidentally hurt a woman during sex, but he really should have taken it easier on you. He probably went too deep and hit your cervix a little too hard. That’s what usually tends to happen. 

“No,” you sniffle. “I’m fine. I just... I really missed you.” 

Fuck. Don’t say that. You’ll make him want to stay.  

His eyes soften as they trail over your features – the colour of your irises, the slope of your nose, the curve of your lips – and he gently smooths your tears away with the backs of his fingers. “I didn’t hurt you?” 

You shake your head and offer him a watery smile. “I also came really, really hard,” you add matter-of-factly, and he huffs out a relieved laugh. It’s hormonal, then. “They’re happy tears, Kakashi. Calm down.” 

Teasing or not, someone telling him of all people to calm down is an otherworldly experience. The phrase lands strangely, and for the first time since he came to see you tonight, his thoughts quiet down to a dull background murmur. 

They’re happy tears, you said. 

You’re happy with him. 

He’s happy with you, too. He doesn’t want to go.  

You frown, then, and lean up onto your elbows to look at him more closely. “What’s wrong?”  

Kakashi can’t be sure what you see in his expression to warrant that sort of question, but the fight finally leaves him. He sits back on his heels and drags a hand down his face, feeling defeated for a reason he can’t explain.  

“I was just...” Happy, for a moment. Happy to be with you. “Worried,” he finishes lamely. He can’t look at you, not when he feels the heat of a blush creeping up his neck. 

You laugh and turn him back towards you, gently cupping the side of his face. “Okay. Well, I’m fine,” you pat his cheek in playful reprimand, “but I am leaking all over my clean sheets, and it’s your fault, so...”  

That draws his attention. When Kakashi sees the creamy mess spilling out of you, his flaccid cock twitches with interest even after he remembers why his stomach is in knots.  

“We shouldn’t have done that,” he says hoarsely, transfixed by the sight. 

He wants to do it again.  

He shouldn’t want to do it again. He feels fucking crazy for having done it once already, when the two of you aren’t even in a relationship, let alone in any way prepared for a child. But again? A second time? He’d have to be certifiably insane. 

“It’s fine,” you reassure him, and Kakashi wonders how the hell you can possibly be taking it so in stride. He came a lot. There’s so much of it dripping out onto the sheets that it’s starting to create a small puddle under your ass, and there’s even more inside of you—a lot more, judging by how hard he came. 

It might take. It might seriously take, and you think it’s fine? 

“You’re doing it again,” you tell him, and his eyes snap back up to yours. He’s in his head again, you mean. Then you chew your lip for a moment, hesitation evident, before you ask carefully, “You’ve been acting a little… off tonight. Is everything okay?”  

Every single one of his instincts is telling him to run. That’s where this conversation always leads, but he’s not ready for it. Not yet. Maybe not ever. 

He swallows thickly. “I’m fine.” 

When you frown at him, skeptical, Kakashi shifts uncomfortably under your gaze.  

“Okay. I won’t pry. But, um, I’m here. You know. If you ever need to talk.” You say it a little awkwardly, like you aren’t sure if he’d be offended by the suggestion, and the worried crease between your brows only grows at whatever you see in his expression. “Or... Or not.” 

You laugh nervously, then, and shift away from him, only to wrinkle your nose when more of his cum oozes out of you.  

It’s cute. You’re cute. 

“You said it’s fine. Why?” The question leaves him before he even thinks it through, but it’s too late, now.  

“What?” 

This wasn’t the first time he’s come inside of you, not by a long shot, but it’s certainly the riskiest. “I finished inside. Why aren’t you more upset?” 

“What do you mean? You finish inside me all the—” Then you stop, and your brows shoot straight up onto your forehead. “Wait, is this because of my birth control?”  

“Well, it’s overdue, isn’t it?”  

You stare at him for a prolonged moment, and he can almost see the gears turning in your head. Then your nostrils flare. “Are you kidding me? You thought my birth control was overdue, and you still—” Scandalised, you slap him on the arm. “Kakashi!” 

Oh. Well. It must not be overdue yet, then. 

Of course you wouldn’t let him come inside if there was a chance that you might conceive. He’s a fucking idiot. 

“That’s so bad! What if you actually got me pregnant?” 

A lick of heat shoots up his spine upon hearing you give voice to what’s been on his mind all night. Kakashi stares at you, wide eyed, and blushes all the way to the tips of his ears.  

You study his face for a moment, before you purse your lips, looking a little troubled. Or pissed off. He can’t really tell. “I mean... Did you want to get me pregnant?” 

“No,” he rushes to say, his cheeks burning hot because yes, he did, but not for real.  “No. Not at all. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking, and...”  

How the hell is he supposed to explain himself? Neither of you are exactly vanilla, you’ve explored a number of kinks together, but this is something else entirely. Then again, a breeding kink would make the most sense out of any, considering it stems from a biological urge to procreate. 

But would you even believe him if he said he only gets off to the fantasy of it, and not the reality? Because if a woman ever said that to him, he’d run away as fast as he could. 

A sly smile tugs at your lips, then, a knowing smile, and Kakashi quickly averts his eyes to the window, embarrassed. 

“You like it, don’t you?” you hum, seductively walking your fingers along his shoulders. “You like the idea of knocking me up.” 

Refusing to look at you, Kakashi clears his throat, trying to ignore the arousal that comes on from your suggestive tone, never mind the words you speak in it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“No?” The sheets rustle as you reposition yourself, and then, when your fingers delicately wrap around his cock, he inhales sharply and bites the inside of his cheek. “Then why are you so hard?”  

And he is, too. He’s already fully erect and ready for another round, and he knows that there’s no way to lie his way out of it anymore. As you start to work your hand over him in slow, sensual strokes, up and down, coaxing the answer out of him, his head drops back. 

“Because,” he rasps.  

The sheets shift again, and then you crawl into his lap. He welcomes you gladly, splaying his hand over your lower back to steady you, though he still can’t face you. He’s too embarrassed. 

“Because why?” you ask breathlessly. Kakashi lets out a pleasured sigh as you kiss and suck your way up the side of his neck, stroking him steadily, before you purr into his ear, “Because you want to give me a baby?” 

A soft sound of approval rips out of his throat, and his cock twitches into your palm. “Don’t—Don’t say that,” he pleads. 

“Hm? Why not?” 

To hell with it. No sense in hiding it anymore. “Because I might actually do it.” 

“Yeah?” Your teeth tug playfully at his earlobe before you pull back to look at him, and Kakashi finally wills himself to meet your sultry gaze, humiliated though he is. “You know,” you muse, “I don’t like condoms for a reason. Do you know why?” 

The breath leaves his lungs with a whoosh.

Oh, he should have known. You’re just as filthy as he is. Of course you’d have a breeding kink, too, though he’s exceedingly grateful that you’d kept it to yourself until now. You’ve never been shy about sharing the things you enjoy, which means you probably figured out how he’d react. That’s the only explanation. 

He likes that you understand him as well as you do. 

He likes you.

“I think I might be able to guess,” Kakashi says knowingly, a smile playing at his lips. When he leans in to kiss you again, all he can think is: maybe it’s not a bad thing to be too attached. 

—

Snippet #1:

“You said it was overdue,” Kakashi tells you. 

“No, I said I needed to make an appointment,” you correct, and he can see that you’re struggling not to laugh. “I still have, like, a week left on it. I just didn’t think I’d be able to get an appointment that soon. It doesn’t hurt to be careful.” 

While you cook breakfast for the two of you, Kakashi wraps his arms around your waist from behind and traces the shell of your ear with his tongue.  “And what if I don’t want to be careful?”  

He feels the shiver wrack your body, but then you do laugh at him. “Down, boy. Three rounds wasn’t enough for you?” 

“Oh, I don’t know...” Kakashi pulls you back against him, allowing you to feel the answer for yourself. “You tell me.” 

—

Snippet #2:

Kakashi hides his face in your pillow, feeling distinctly vulnerable without his mask. “Don’t tease me,” he groans, muffled. “I have a delicate constitution.” 

You cackle at his discomfort, like the cruel woman you are. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But I’m really, really curious.” Then you hum thoughtfully. “Do you want to know one of mine?” 

He shifts his head just enough to reveal one curious eye. 

You squirm a little, then, like you’re finally starting to realise exactly how embarrassing this is to talk about. “I, um...” A pause. “So, you know how...” Another pause, and you take a deep breath. “Okay. I like to imagine that I'm being used to—to repopulate a clan, I guess. Just, over and over. Lots of kids. But not for real.” 

He feels another jolt of arousal at your admission. 

Looks like you’re on the same page, then. 

Then Kakashi leans up onto his elbow to regard you properly, and then he lifts an eyebrow, as if to point out how closely that particular fantasy hits to home. 

That’s when you seem to realise who you’re talking to – the sole remaining member of a clan that could probably stand to be repopulated – and your eyes go wide, before you nearly trip over yourself to add, “It—It has nothing to do with your clan, specifically, Kakashi, it’s just—” 

“A fantasy,” he finishes for you, amused. 

 You worry your lip between your teeth and nod. 

“Well,” Kakashi says, considering his answer for a moment, “I might have imagined that, too. Specifically.” Then he gives you a roguish grin, intending to pay you back in kind for your teasing. “How many children do you think would be enough for my clan to be sufficiently repopulated, hm? I’m thinking eight.” 

Mortified, you bury your face in your hands. “Oh my god! Eight?” 

Payback’s a bitch. “Well, I was originally going to say ten, but—” 

When you squeal in embarrassment and yank the blankets over your head, Kakashi barely manages to stifle a laugh.  

—

A/N: This is the first thing I've posted in a hot minute, so your feedback would mean a lot - please let me know what you think :)

i miss you | suna rintarou

suna r. x fem!reader

Suna and y/n were high school besties, they did everything together and meant everything to each other—until he fucked things up. or In which a situationship doesn't work out (classic!)

⊹ ࣪ ˖ trope: situationship to strangers (not really) to lovers, university au, first smau

⊹ ࣪ ˖ warnings/disclaimers: kys jokes, ooc, cringey, swearing, sexual jokes, fluff, very little angst, might be a bit messy, ignore the timestamps

⊹ ࣪ ˖status: coming soon

a/n: this is my first ever post, fanfic, smau whatever you wanna call it so please be patient with me 😭 idk how this works

INTRO: we need help ʚɞ lovers4life

CHAP 1

When tumblr refreshes itself and the fic I was reading fucking disappears forever 💔

I’ve been searching for a smau I was reading for three days 😔