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Your husband was livid, apparently.
You didn't know which one of the managers had dimed you out (or, realistically, blurted it out by accident, since Nanami just had that aura that made people turn themselves in. In another, better life he really should've been a detective), but your work bestie Nitta Akari had given you a courtesy heads-up call. Even she knew that his current state warranted an actual, physical call instead of a text.
"Yeahhhhh, so…," went Akari's voice over the line, while not as jittery as Ijichi who stood beside her the entire time, there was a distinct tremble in her words. "He knows you took the special grade mission on Friday and he legit raised his voice. And Nanami-san never raises his voice at me. I don't know how he knows but, sis, the man knows". You could tell your work bestie was saddened at being yelled at but, more so worried for the storm that would likely drown you alive when Nanami Kento came home.
You and the Ratio Sorcerer were nearing your one-year wedding anniversary and while you couldn't be happier to be with the man you'd always pined for, well, obviously no relationship was perfect. Your friends and students collectively heaved a sigh of relief when you disconnected from the Toxic Two (colloquially known as Geto and Gojo), but were a touch worried with the overprotective aspect of Nanami. He made no attempt to hide he wasn't a fan of you taking higher grade missions, he didn't care that it made him look too brittle to the point of excess. Sure, going with the 1st years to draw the protective veil during little jobs here and there, he was okay with. Sometimes you couldn't tell if it was poorly-concealed, atypical misogyny that characterized all male sorcerers (you hated that your younger brother Noritoshi supported your husband in this), or because Nanami just was an absolute fuss-pot.
"He just cares, that's all," Shoko had drawled one day, sighing as she tied on the 7th bandage on your student Itadori Yuji in the span of 48 hours. In contrast to Gojo Satoru, you made it a matter of principle to accompany the kids within missions and it exhausted you to see that this particular one had a penchant for nasty tumbles. The wiry, strawberry-icing haired boy gave you a toothy grin, agreeing with the school doctor, "Yep, Nanamin loves you. I bet he just wants to make sure you're ready to be a mama soon, so he likes you safe."
The idea of having a child, starting a family wasn't something foreign to you. You were a Kamo, after all, and were brought up to think that was your main purpose in life. Personally, you saw no issues with it… but also, saw no issues with having a family and continuing your profession as a sorcerer. This was a massive point of contention between yourself and your husband and it irked you that Noritoshi, who had vehemently been against the union to begin with, absolutely again backed him up on this. He claimed he wanted nieces and nephews, and that it was time for you to stay home. Nanami wasn't as extreme, he was fine with you teaching and staying on campus with Shoko. That was enough.
While you understood and respected his sentiments… being out there in the fray was kinda your thing. And he hated that.
He was unspeakably, immensely proud of his sweet, beautiful, incredibly skilled wife. He just didn't enjoy the thought of you getting injured and him not being there to save you; it was something that had haunted even Nanami's waking dreams since he first met you. Yes, death and regret and pain all came with the job, but not on his watch. Not especially now that you were the reason life was worth waking up for daily for him. That, and freshly baked bread. He'd be damned if he let anything happen to his wife. He'd fight anyone that put you in harm's way, even if the person he had to butt heads with was you.
You thanked Akari for letting you know Hurricane Kento was en route and as soon as you hung up, you were notified of four missed calls, ten text messages and a minute-long voice mail. You were almost afraid to put the phone to your ear to play the message, so you put it on speaker.
Gojo told me all about it. You and I are going to have a very lengthy conversation about this once I get home. I am finishing a few things up at the office and will be heading to you soon.
Normally, you'd be bouncing on your toes in anticipation of your handsome, worn-out husband coming home. You loved the simple domesticity of preparing a hot meal for him, waiting for him with slippers at the door, wrapping him in hugs and kisses when he walked in. It really was a dream come true, for both of you. Two lonely, loved-starved creatures finally coming together and pouring everything into each other. It was a beautiful thing.
Just… not tonight.
There wasn't even an "I love you" or "Missed you today" in any of the plethora of texts that your husband had flooded you with, further punctuating the ire you knew was building up as the minutes ticked by. Where Nanami was viewed as a walking block of ice, you as his wife knew that he was actually an affectionate human. He poured love and devotion to you in every way possible, texting I love yous happened to be one of them. This man operated on the belief and constant fear that life was short, shorter and more painful as a jujutsu sorcerer, and so he was going to ensure you knew during every waking chance that you were everything to him. A sweetheart, really. So the fact that he wasn't trying to be cute in any of his messages was saying something.
Enough to make you feel a little warm under the sundress you had on.
Trying to ignore the twitch in your palms and the foreboding acid that churned in your stomach, you turned to the kitchen where you had a tomato-feta bisque going on a gentle simmer. Good thing you also made crusty ciabatta rolls from scratch to go with it, gluten was this man's middle name. Whatever fury you were bound to meet, this bread would somehow buffer. You could hope.
Perhaps it was the connection of two star-crossed souls who loved each other dearly, or maybe it was his very aggravated, pent-up cursed energy cracking the proverbial knuckles, either way, you knew your blonde husband was home even before the pewter Jaguar purred to a halt outside in the driveway. You weren't afraid of your husband, no. That made it sound like he was some abusive, domineering freak. No, Nanami Kento, the infamous Ratio Sorcerer was a good man and a loving husband but, boy, were you sweating bullets by the time you heard his immaculately polished wing-tips crunch across the gravel, and up the steps to the door.
No, Mrs. Kamo-Nanami adored her darling, loving, doting husband but that cursed energy was like a battering ram, the kind that SWAT used when busting up a drug ring. Except, in this case, your husband was the whole team and you were the one that was gonna get hauled to prison with no bail.
You had to fight for your life to keep from jumping out your skin when you heard the front door open and shut… Nanami didn't close it, he let the weight gently do it for him as he removed his shoes, loosened his tie and stepped into his house slippers. Were your fingers trembling as you poured out a measure of Lagavulin into a crystal tumbler with frozen marble cubes? Bitch, they might be. Anytime your husband came home after 6pm, you knew it had been a long day and a decent scotch from his pretty wife's hands was the remedy to his hatred of overtime.
Clearing your throat (definitely not from accumulated mucus caused by anxiety, no, of course not), you piped in your most dulcet voice a "welcome home, honey!". Whatever pretensions you had to looking perfectly fine came crumbling down when your husband strode into the living room with his shades still on. He never wore his shades around the house and here you were, actively ignoring and jumping over all the red flags like it was an Olympic sport.
Even behind those goggles you knew him enough to where you could feel his eyes piercing through to your little soul. Scanning you and likely finding you wanting and inadequate. Or, in this particular scenario, viewing you as a brat that couldn't get it through her thick skull that she shouldn't be taking any more special grade missions, not when you nearly lost your life over one last year. Nine days you had been comatose, connected to so many machines trying so hard to keep you alive. You had not been conscious to see him lose his mind, see him sob like a hurt, abandoned child as Shoko fought to keep your earthly body alive while Gojo worked day and night to keep the elders at bay from effectively terminating you. Couldn't seem to process that your husband just couldn't and wouldn't fathom ever living life knowing he hadn't been there to save you. To protect and cherish you. To live up to his wedding vows. And here you were with no known, valid reason, taking up a mission that could very well snuff you out again.
You feebly attempted small talk as he plunked down on to the sofa, staring at you with an icy blankness. Yes, the shades were still kept on, even as you handed your jaded husband his whiskey tumbler. "Do you just… wanna relax right now, or I mean, if you like, dinner is ready, my love." For a second you flinched as he took the glass, wondering if he'd throw it against the wall or something. He had never done that before, but it seemed now might be a great time for him to start. Nanami downed half the Scotch, sighed half-heartedly and removed his shades. You almost wished he kept them on with the frustration, hurt and disappointment that were written all over his face. He wasn't even trying to conceal it, not trying to gloss anything over.
Leaning back into the sofa to avoid eye contact, Nanami's voice came out as flat and emotionless as ever. "So why did I have to find out from Gojo? My wife can't tell me things anymore?"
You dropped onto the ottoman that was across from him and leaned forward to rest your hands on his knees. Maybe, just maybe, your touch and warmth would soften him up just a bit… It hurt your heart to see his lower lip wobble for a split second at the contact, before he steeled himself back up. It hurt to know that you were the one person in this life he let down his walls for and yet here he was, building it back up.
And it was your fault.
"Was it something I did?," he prodded icily as he swirled the marble cubes in the filigreed tumbler. They made a crisp clinking noise against the glass, the only sounds in your home aside from the dull, repetitive sway of the cuckoo clock pendulum on the wall. "Why? Why are you doing this to us?"
You felt like the absolute idiot that you were, opening and closing your mouth with nary a word to stand on. The best you could do right now was to sit on his lap and wrap your arms around his neck but, very respectfully and politely, your husband lifted you up and placed you on the cushion adjacent to him. Had he decided to backhand you across the face, that would've hurt considerably less. He took another sip of his whiskey and gave you The Look; Nanami Kento would be damned before he let his sweet, little wife get away with shit yet again. He already didn't like getting weak in the knees with you over everything, it aggravated his core, but tonight more so than ever he would remain stalwart against your soft charms.
"Answer me please, wife," was the stern order issued by the sorcerer. It wasn't unkind, but definitely wasn't the normal tone he took with his soul mate.
You tucked your ankles beneath you, scooting as close as possible to him without being pushed away like a small pet that was being overly playful and annoying. "Kento, baby, I'm- " you faltered, grasping at straws. Truly, there was no reason for you to risk yourself on this mission. There really wasn't. You knew it and Gojo did too, it in fact was precisely the reason why he had dimed you out to Nanami to begin with.
"You-? Yes?," prompted the blonde, downing the rest of his drink and stretching his long legs to pour himself another. You tumbled off the sofa, tripping all over yourself in an attempt to get to the delicate whiskey carafe when he caught you before your face could smash into the hardwood floor, put his glass down and carried you back to the sofa like some errant child. Giving you yet another annoyed glare, Nanami walked back to the bar cart to top off his glass. "Ma'am, I'm waiting," he prompted once more, walking over to resume his seat across from you, "You know I don't take kindly to waiting."
Eyes downcast, you twiddled at the fabric of your skirt like a child waiting outside the school dean's office, wringing your hands at the lack of rationale. "Ken, I have nothing, I'm-... I don't know, I'm sorry I just feel bored, honey. I didn't mean any harm, I promise."
Putting the glass down sharply on the coffee table, Nanami leaned his elbows across his thighs to get his face closer to you. It was hard to miss the protruding vein on his temple, an indicator that he was holding back his words, doing the most to make sure you didn't feel the full brunt of his strangled emotions. "And you thought that taking on a special grade would be the way to fix your boredom. What the hell, babe, really?" You flinched as he snarled at you, looking like an apex predator baring its fangs. "Mrs. Nanami, you think this is a great idea? Putting yourself in harm's way? Do you really? Please, please, I'm begging you… for the love of all things sacred, tell me Gojo put you up to this. Tell me my wife didn't go and voluntarily sign up. Tell me the goddamn idiot man-child talked you into this, please."
You wished you could pin this on Gojo, but even Six Eyes lowered his blackout Dolce & Gabbana shades to stare at you judgingly when you volunteered for the job. For someone who always had a glib comment to everything, the silver haired clansman looked at you in total silence. Almost as if he was condemning you for crossing his kouhai which, in all honesty, was rich coming from the likes of Gojo. But it only further punctuated the gravity of just how wrong it all was for you to go behind Nanami's back.
One of your redeeming qualities was that you weren't afraid to apologize when it was clear you were wrong. There was no arguing your case in this situation: you were very much fucked and incorrect in all aspects, from every angle. You had gone and done fucked up. "Like-," Nanami held his hands up as if he were trying to find ways to justify your actions, "You know this is wrong, that there are others who can and should take this. The students aren't involved in this tasker and you, no, we do not need the money. Why in the name of–" he stopped and just shook his head. Just hurt, confused and upset.
Your lower lip trembled and you wrung your hands together like the tiny idiot you were being. It was far more agonizing than your alleged boredom to see the man you loved and adored look forlorn—all because of you. He set the whiskey glass down on the coffee table, propped his elbows on his knees and buried his tired face in his hands. It was more than your heart could bear and so you did the only logical thing that crossed your little, pea-sized brain at the moment.
Sliding off the couch cushions, you got on your knees and crawled to him, prying his thighs apart to give you room. He looked at you with aggravation between the spaces of his fingers and, you swore up and down for a second, you saw bitter tears pooling up in his eyes. You pushed up to your shins, pressing kisses on the back of his hands, which he initially resisted (who could blame him)... before letting out the most frustrated sigh, parting his hands to get a smooch from you. One kiss was all you deserved tonight, as he leaned back exhausted on to the supportive couch cushions.
"What am I gonna do with you, wife? What am I supposed to do, when it's my job to protect you–" Nanami groaned out, but you elected to ignore him… instead planting soft kisses on his chest while unbuckling his belt quietly. It took him a second to register what you were doing, but by the time he could wrap his mind onto the concept and protest it, he knew there was very little he could do to stop you. As you slid back down to the floor to be snug between his knees there was no confusing what you had in mind to comfort and distract him.
"I'm- what on earth are you doing?!," your indignant husband began but as you fished out his semi-hardness from his boxer briefs… his voice and breathing hitched. Precious little resistance could come from him, not while you wrapped your small hand around his girth and began to tongue at his prominent mushroom tip. You looked up at him with doleful eyes as you placed soft, airy kisses on his veiny shaft, daring even to be bolder—"Kento, darling… please don't be mad at me." Your dulcet tone pleading for him so innocently to forgive you was such a stark contrast from the lewd behavior he was watching unfold between his knees and, gods… it got him at full mast so quickly that the sorcerer felt lightheaded for a second.
"This–--is–--not–," he drew his breath in sharply, as his eyelids screwed shut, "–fair!," gritted Nanami out with his eyes shut as tight as could be, while your tongue ever so gently fluttered up and down his throbbing vein. Such soft, such gentle licks and wet kisses, all so delicate and all with the intention of making this stoic, stalwart man lose his mind and, ultimately, bring you back to his good graces. You were a consummate glutton for sex with your husband, the libido of you both being nigh insatiable most days of the week… but tonight? You'd be okay with just sucking him off, with having just one of you climaxing, if it meant that the angered gentleman would set his grudges aside tonight.
You began to poke your nose against the base of his veiny girth, moving to press the flat of your velvety tongue on his balls; the gasp that escaped his throat was one you'd definitely stow away for future purposes. While Nanami's touch, his scent and every beautiful thing about him was forever engraved into your soul, on nights when he'd be away for protracted missions it felt good to remember how the man sounded whenever you'd ravish his aching cock… there was just something so primal, so satisfying about how the almost monotone bass of that straight-laced husband of yours that would waver and crack upon your touch. It felt good to know you were the one bringing this paragon of calm, virtuous justice to his knees and, ultimately, to earth-shattering orgasms.
You smiled onto his skin and it seems he felt that smugness on you as he opened his eyes to stare at you with ill-concealed disapproval –because, really, how dare you make fun of your husband's weakness for your saccharine touches. The audacity of you, Mrs. Kamo-Nanami, the absolute pluck. For shame. The evil eye didn't last very long, no, not as you ever so carefully began to take in one of his aching testicles into your wet and greedy mouth. There was no way the great Nanami Kento could remain immovable under duress wrought by your plush lips and caressing tongue.
Oh, that glorious, choked sound that your perpetually prim and proper husband made, a cross between a pained wheeze and a sharp intake of breath, just fighting for air as your tongue worked its magic on him. One of your hands wrapped around his unnatural thickness and began to slowly, methodically pump him up and down and, oh dear goodness, the moans… even a man made of pure, feelingless marble like he would crumble at how you sucked on him. It truly gave you a sick sense of power, a heady rush of something that could almost be called savagery, that you only experienced when in combat with the vilest of curses in the field. There was just something about making someone so strong, so mighty buckle down into a state of twitching inertia that did it for you. As you continued to lather and slurp at your husband's clenching sack, you peered up at him for a second.
Sweaty sheen going on his neck, chest and perfectly chiseled abs? Check.
Hands balling into fists on to the sofa cushions? Check.
Adam's apple bobbing up and down? Check.
Beautiful, bountiful pecs heaving? Check.
Unrestrained, pitiful moans? Double check.
You smiled and switched to worshiping his other testicle and began to really, truly pump him up and down in earnest. One of his hands came gingerly on to your hair, patting you with a sweaty palm like he was trying to reach out for something to tether him to reality. You could see your darling husband part his lips to gasp for air as you swirled your tongue rhythmically on his most sensitive parts. A twitch in his thighs indicated to you that it was time to up the ante.
Now, you were by no means an innocent, inexperienced virgin when Nanami Kento took you for the first time in the most Biblical of senses, oh no. It was an open secret in Tokyo Tech that you were the favorite plaything of the Toxic Two, so you had your fair share of gagging and deep throating and debauched face fucking. You wouldn't call yourself an expert by any means, but then Nanami happened and… well. Geto and Gojo were pretty big boys down there. But no, oh no, they didn't have Nanami's angry, massive bulk. You had learned to rather fear deep throating after seeing the ridiculous thick that was this man, but still wanted to make sure to give him the due adoration that only your mouth could bring him. Call it suicidal tendencies or maybe dedication to wifely duties. Seeing him spasm in your hands, while the pre-cum began to pearl on his reddened tip told you he wasn't too far from cumming and so it would be worth the attempt of wrecking your throat.
You began to lather his tip with the sloppiest of kisses as you wrapped both hands on his cock, very gradually lowering your lips and applying a tiny bit of suction to the head. The undignified yelp that your husband let out encouraged you to go a little past the mushroom… and that's when the infuriated growls got real. Perhaps seeing you bent in adoration over his dick like this reminded him of your utter bullshit from earlier, but suddenly Nanami got his authoritative voice back–"Good girl, yeah, that's it. That's it, that's it, you pretty little brat, take my fucking cock, go on! Take it! Take my cock, you brat, all of it!"
There wasn't even much room for you to let out a squeal of protest as he threaded his fingers through the roots of your hair to jam himself all the way down your throat. Acidity bubbled somewhere in one of the breathing pipes you had in your neck, making its way to sting your sinus like wasabi paste. With your nose pressed against your husband's trimmed, blonde hairs you began to scrabble your fingers against his thighs to anchor yourself… but as you heard Nanami's labored breathing growing hoarse with each thrust, you knew it wouldn't be very long before–
You pulled him out from the deepest reach of your throat at just the right time, wrapped both hands again around his girth and sucked on his bulbous tip as an effusion of the most colorful profanity spouted from his mouth. The growls that left Nanami made you wonder for a split second if he were possessed and then you smiled, a sense of placidity washing over you as you saw his body shudder in relief sinking into the sofa cushions. Good, good, yes… if he was panting and heaving for dear life, perhaps this delightful paralysis would have been enough for your husband to forget your little transgression. The blonde sorcerer spasmed, his whole body made of solid muscle twitching under your hands and lips as he lost control of logic. The snug, wet suction of your lips and the way your hands held him warm and secure, he wasn't sure when he had ever reached a borderline blackout like this. He clenched his jaw down hard as he desperately juggled staying coherent while savoring the feel of unloading heavily into your wet, little mouth. A good orgasm, a whiskey top-off on his tumbler and a piping hot bowl of soup with fresh ciabatta. All would be forgiven, right? Maybe swept under the rug and–
Oh, no. Oh, shit, you thought as Nanami sat up (albeit, struggling, but still), and gave you the most incensed glare that would make even the likes of Gojo flinch in discomfort. It didn't matter that he was trying to catch his breath, while his aqua colored button-down clung to his chiseled muscles. "Dismal," he snarled as he yanked you up by your hair, "Dismal, with a hint of pathetic, trying to suck me off so I'd dismiss what you did. Nice try, but that's not enough. Get on my dick, and ride me like you're sorry!"
Stammering an apology it seemed wasn't enough either, as Nanami hauled you off your knees and onto his lap with alarming alacrity. "Ken-! Kento! Honey, I'm not ready, I'm–" you stumbled with your words as you tried to close your legs off. Sex with your husband was amazing, always something you begged for on the regular, but the thing was… being the one on top was unfun to say the least. Sure, you'd be in control, that was the premise. The sorcerer was inhumanly thick, making it feel extra uncomfortable when you were impaled on him. And that was clearly the reason why he demanded you on him, this fucking was absolutely meant to punish you.
Nanami gave out a mirthless laugh as he pulled aside the gusset of your tiny underwear, "Not ready, she says. Not only are you a conniving backstabber, you're also a liar now? Look how fucking sopping your cunt is–" he stopped his accusations to insert a long, roughed finger in you and gods, oh gods, if the sting didn't feel utterly divine. The soft little whimper that left your parted lips made the angered sorcerer jerk you to his face… he might be full of scorn at the moment, but he'd absolutely be damned if he didn't get to drink in your sweet sounds right out of your mouth. The scorn was very palpable in his kiss too, Nanami made sure it was rough and bruising, an indicator of how he intended to savage you tonight like you deserved.
Your husband gripped on to your jaw as he detached from your soft kisses, ensuring you wouldn't be able to chase after him. When you whined at the lost of contact (even if it was meant to hurt), the blonde simply tutted at you, his usually warm amber eyes now looking frigid and sharp. "My ridiculous woman wants more kisses?," he inquired, voice dripping with sarcasm as he pincered your cheeks together, "I bet you do, darling, I bet you want kisses, but you gotta earn it. Show me how you fuck me. Show your man, yeah?”
Gulping down your pride and the glob of saliva that your arousal had produced, you slowly got on your knees and began to lower yourself on Nanami's leaking cock. Gods, it was such a blessing and a curse to be married to someone who's body didn't understand what a refractory period was, especially when he was this level of incensed. He didn't even care to undress you, not even your panties, electing simply to draw the sticky gusset to the side and prodding your drenched folds with his blunt, reddened tip. One of your clammy palms gripped on to the front of his aquamarine shirt, while the other clapped on to your mouth to mask out the pained whine that tried to escape you. It didn't matter that Nanami would fuck you daily into the mattress, or against the kitchen counter or on the tiled walls of the newly remodeled bathroom—he was and always would be just a little too thick for your leaking, needy cunt. The only time you wouldn't be legs spread for your husband is if he was out of town on a mission.
As soon as he was home, the order of events in the Danish man's schedule was you, whiskey and then dinner. Followed by perhaps a minimum of two, or more, rounds of unhinged fucking that would've hospitalized a woman with no cursed energy. That did nothing whatsoever to make your body acclimatize to his girth, as made evident by the way you clamped down your hand on your mouth. Soft whines spilled out nonetheless, provoking a lustful rage within your already angered husband's soul. This translated into him forcefully impaling you all the way onto his massive cock, the delicate skin of your inner thighs scraping against the abrasive teeth of the pants zipper. An agonized cry scraped within your throat, manifesting itself as crystallized tears that clumped up your dark lashes. If you had thought it would inspire a modicum of clemency with Nanami Kento, you were sadly very much mistaken.
"Well?," sneered the blonde, reveling in the sight of you struggling on his ungodly size, "You waiting for the new year to ring in or, what?" Sniffling like a child, you positioned your ankles to support half your weight, while your palms found purchase on the man's very broad shoulders. Ever so slowly you lifted your ass all the way up, screwing your eyes shut as you felt every single protruding vein on his length, resting the tip right at your slippery entrance. Notwithstanding his ire, it was obvious that he was getting just as heated from this teasing as you were… and then you began to bounce, fucking yourself slowly, steadily on the enormity that was your husband.
It took a second or so, but eventually the painful sensation of being stretched was made bearable by your dripping arousal and, soon enough, your whimpers were steadily becoming louder as your pleasure began to build up. How Nanami was able to recline on the sofa, languidly observing you with a critical eye as you repeatedly lifted yourself up and down on his cock, was puzzling, his willpower to not dominate you quite commendable. For a time, he simply enjoyed the feeling of his pretty wife working herself to a lather on his lap, doing his best to conceal the way his was gritting his jaw to stop himself from destroying you wholly. He broke your steady rhythm off by pulling the neckline of your dress down to expose your bra, shoving the lacy cups aside for him to see your very full breasts. Greedily, he yanked you towards his face to suckle on your nipples, alternating by licking at your soft skin and leaving bite marks on your cleavage; they weren't enough to draw blood by any means but still, it was evident he meant for them to hurt. The moment he could tell you were beginning to enjoy the attention on your breasts, Nanami shoved you back down on his cock to keep servicing him. While it was delicious to be packed full of your handsome husband, the strength of your ankles was finite and it was beginning to show as you lagged in raising your body up and down his length. Every stroke you took definitely jiggled your heavy bosom just that way he liked but it was becoming increasingly difficult to continue the rough pace you had started.
The sorcerer rolled his eyes, shooting you a glare that would've stopped a tank in its tracks from the sheer volume of cursed energy that it carried. "Truly unbelievable. First, you go and piss me off and do something reckless. Then you go and seduce me, which is really low even for you,"--you couldn't help the little smirk that twitched on your lips at this accusation–"And now you think the way you're riding me is good? Pathetic. Absolutely deplorable, you should be ashamed of yourself." A capillary-busting smack landed on your ass cheek, making you scream and clench down on him harder than you already were, apparently. While you squinted from how it stung, it didn't escape your notice that the fluttering of your walls affected him even more. "You absolute brat, my goddamn wife is a fucking brat," Nanami hissed out as he wrapped his grip around your hair tighter than normal, as he pounded up into you without mercy.
Planting both his feet firmly on the floor and locking his free arm securely around your waist, the blonde set a brutal pace. You couldn't squirm away, not if you wanted to. Not when his muscular arm had completely locked you against him as he ravaged your weeping hole with a punishing precision. In between breathless thrusts, the sorcerer growled on your neck, "Acting out like a stupid little brat, is this what you want?" Another bruising slap landed on your ass, another pained yelp escaping you as he continued, "This is some attention-seeking bullshit you're pulling, so here it is, wife. You have my full attention!"
Nanami might have been on the warpath to destroy your disobedient cunt but there was no denying that he was utterly effective in bringing his wife to climax regardless of his mood. Yes, it was destructive, painful even, but you would be lying if you said you weren't a touch masochistic for your husband's very rough loving. As it was, you were already cock drunk, saliva was steadily dribbling out the side of your lips. The friction on your already throbbing clit was sending you into overdrive so it was just a matter of one more violent, well-angled thrust that would have your seams ripping apart. "There she is," rasped your husband as he felt your walls squeeze his cock like a vice, pulsing out in waves from the maddening rush of euphoria he brought down upon you, "There's my needy, attention whore of a wife, look at you so fucking drunk on my dick. We're nowhere near done yet, don't get too comfortable."
You still felt blind from the roaring surge of your climax, barely sentient enough to understand what your handsome, frustrated husband was barking at you, only registering him lifting your limp body off him and planting you face down on the sofa. "Hands and knees for me, woman," Nanami demanded, yanking your hips up to meet his, "Don't make me fucking repeat myself." You scrambled to your wrists in a panic, only to be pushed back down to your chest and elbows while your head was snapped back with him pulling on your hair. It made for a very uncomfortable angle as the Sorcerer began to push his cock back in to your still sensitive folds. Soft moans began to fill his ears again and, eager to hear more of that sweet music dedicated only to him, he snapped his hips forward to fill you back up.
"Fucking hell-," Nanami gasped, resting his forehead against your trembling shoulder, "Your beautiful little cunt feels so good, so fucking good." And with that, the usually composed and somber blonde began to drill himself furiously into you. You were sobbing at this point, tears and saliva coursing down to coat your already sweaty neck as your husband brutalized your aching hole with wild abandon. "You're bored, you say?," whispered the blonde as he furiously pounded into you, marveling at the ripples your ass cheeks were displaying with each thrust he did, "I'll fix your goddamn boredom, I'll fuck a baby into you!" Hearing this very much jostled you out of your cock drunk state, bracing yourself on your wrists to try and rationalize with your husband… but inane babbles were the only sounds coming out of your mouth, the last measly brain cells you had been rattled around like Yahtzee dice by Nanami Kento. "Yeah, sounds like a brilliant idea to me, that'll mellow your ass down and keep you at home," came the growls from behind you, "Keep you safe instead of running after students and curses."
You very much knew this wasn't an empty threat and, somehow, you just felt with Nanami's anger and unstoppable cursed energy that it would override your birth control. Now obviously you knew how medicine and female biology worked but your husband's untethered aura seeping out in that neon blue glow was a force to be reckoned with. Another heavy, bruising slap landed on your ass cheek, causing you to yelp and bend lower, pushing your already ruined pussy up further for your man to ravage. "God, you're so good, so tight, all for me," Nanami slurred out, his composure finally cracking from pleasure, "All mine, all fucking mine! You're mine!" At this point all you could do was cry out your assent, you reassurance that yes you were his, all the while his cock pounded furiously into your cervix, threatening to wreck it once and for all. The mad clutch on your hips was so strong, you felt like it was his intention to tear fistfuls out of you like a rabid animal.
You could feel the man nearing his high and yet, even so, his hand snaked around to your engorged pearl to coax you through another climax… he might be feral, but let it not be said that Nanami Kento was not one to pamper and indulge his wife. With almost miraculous accuracy, the rough pads of his fingers began to circle on your core, making you chant his name over and over again in delirium. Up your torso suddenly went, his brawny arm securing you by the waist against him, once more holding you in place as he brought down another soul-crushing high on your already wasted body. The vertigo-inducing pleasure that hurtled through your veins in turn sparked an explosion through Nanami that left him gasping for air. Once, twice, three more times he shoved himself hilt deep into you before stilling and shuddering.
The whiplash was real—the softest, most tender kisses were being strewn like flower petals on your shoulders, all by the same man who had made it a mission to destroy you not three minutes ago. Ever so carefully, Nanami withdrew from your bruised body, watching the thick gush of his cum snail down your inner leg. Without preamble and in complete silence, he lifted you up like the bride you were in his arms, walking you both to the master bedroom where he lay you on to the mattress like a little porcelain doll. Into the bathroom he went, emerging a minute or two later with a hot face towel, scented heavily with rose water. You sat upright on the bed, your legs dangling on the edge like a child as you watched your stern husband get on his knees to carefully wipe you down—from your face, your shoulders all the way down to between your thighs, taking the greatest care to make his ministrations as gentle as possible. Tossing the used towels into the laundry hamper, Nanami disappeared once more, this time to the walk-in closet to change out of his work suit and to being you a fresh change of soft house clothes.
This definitely wasn't the first time you husband had cleaned and dressed you, it was one of his many love languages after all, but somehow tonight it made you feel small and sheepish… like you didn't deserve it after all the emotional distress you had put him through. He slid your sundress off you, along with the underwear he had mangled earlier during his non-lucid state of mind; for a second, you could've sworn his cheekbones turned a shade of pink as he discarded your intimates into the pile of soiled clothing. There was just something to be said about how attentive and dutiful to your needs Nanami was despite your stubbornness, and it only furthered the heaviness of your heart as you got dressed… really, he didn't deserve the unpredictable stress you put him through and, well, at some point you'd have to hang up the cape. What better time than Christmas to give him that as a gift?
You found yourself curled up in your worn-out husband's arms before you knew it, his exhausted breath fanning against your neck as he held you close. Pale blonde lashes tickled your skin as he muttered, "I apologize for being a little too harsh, my love." You stayed silent, running your fingers through his wheaten locks, gently massaging his scalp; it almost felt mortifying that he was the one asking forgiveness when you had been the one to instigate the whole mess. Kissing his forehead softly, you responded by telling him this was the last time you'd ever cross him and endanger yourself. That you were ready to step down from hunting curses after this final mission. It could very well be that Nanami just had a long day but to you, it almost seemed like tears pricked the corners of his eyes as he held you close in silence once more, burying his face in your long, tousled hair. A few more gentle and tender kisses later, you murmured how you'd made him fresh bread and soup, to which you were speedily lifted and carried to the kitchen for the long delayed dinner.
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Your final mission dealing with special grades ended in November and you tendered your "retirement" from officially exorcising curses. While Gojo Satoru clucked audibly in disbelief as he handed your paperwork for Ijichi to process, out of everyone's earshot he thanked you for all the years you had stood by him to serve as a sorcerer. You gave the ridiculous man an ingratiating eye roll, reminding him that you'd still be there to teach students despite being relegated to the side lines.
A smirk played on the silver haired shaman's flawless face as he lifted his velvet eye mask to look at you, and when you locked eyes with his heavenly blues, there was something about him that visibly softened. You could be wrong but somehow you felt his piercing gaze dart to your belly, then back up you with a mischievous smile. "Oh, you'll be teaching the next generation, I don't doubt it at all," Gojo snickered as he walked off, waving at you, "You'll definitely be raising them, too."
December arrived and almost immediately you were sicker than you had been your whole life. Vertigo, insomnia, lack of appetite and most of all… irrepressible nausea. You kept all of these symptoms to yourself, until one day Shoko dragged you to her clinic and ordered you to take a urine test. Less than thirty minutes later, a knowing smile danced on the doctor's features as she handed you a folded sheet of paper. "I know you got Nanami that platinum Breitling for Christmas… but you might wanna buy a pretty gift box for this. This is the gift he's been wanting forever."
Ieri Shoko was right. Your Danish husband, the immovable Nanami Kento, sobbed tears of joy upon opening the gilded box that held that print out stating you were pregnant.
…with twins. Damn Gojo Satoru and his Six Eyes predicting your pregnancy, but at least you made the Ratio Sorcerer the happiest man alive.