#to be fair he's been doing that for like half a year but...

[formulafanfics13]

Can we get a Lando fic where she’s Zack’s daughter and one night they hookup but she ends up pregnant. They wanna see if they can make it work so she kind of disappears from the public eye and on socials. Lando soft launches the pregnancy on his socials only for the fans and Zack to find out it’s her that’s pregnant when she’s deep into the pregnancy.

not just a one night thing - LN4 🔥

summary: it was supposed to be one night. one mistake. one secret. but when zak brown’s daughter ends up pregnant with lando’s baby, they decide to try and make it work — quietly. until lando soft-launches the bump on instagram and all hell breaks loose. warnings: (accidental pregnancy, one night stand, secret relationship, soft dom!lando, family drama, emotional tension, mild angst, soft launch chaos, public reaction, zak brown father figure spiral, lando is deeply gone for her, pregnancy smut mentioned in flashbacks, mcLaren paddock politics, fluff under pressure) wordcount: 708

It was supposed to be one night. Celebratory drinks after Silverstone. Private room. Too much champagne. A thousand lingering looks that had been building for years.

He was McLaren’s golden boy. You were Zak’s daughter. There’d always been boundaries.

Until there weren’t. Until you’d both ended up back at his hotel suite, his hands on your hips, your name falling from his mouth like a secret he’d been waiting forever to say out loud.

It was soft. And intense. And fucking perfect.

Then morning came. And neither of you said a word.

You found out six weeks later. In the bathroom of your flat, clutching a test with trembling hands, your heart stuck somewhere between a sob and a scream.

You texted Lando.

Two words. I’m pregnant.

His reply came sixty seconds later. Where are you?

To your shock, he didn’t freak out. Didn’t run. Didn’t even ask if it was his, which, honestly, made you cry harder. He showed up at your door, hoodie and sweats, eyes full of quiet shock and concern, and said, “Okay. Let’s figure it out.”

You didn’t know what it meant. But two days later, he came back. Then again the next week. Then every week after that.

He kissed your stomach before it started to show. Held your hair back during week eight’s epic wave of nausea. Installed blackout curtains in your bedroom himself when you said you were sleeping like shit. Told the world nothing.

Told you everything. We’ll keep it private, he said. For now. We just need time.

You agreed. Because Zak didn’t know. Nobody knew. You wanted to try.

The bump started to show in month five.

You stopped going out. Stopped posting. Told your friends you were “travelling” and locked down your account.

Lando would come to your flat late at night, tuck you in. Stay until morning. Text you during media days and whisper, “I miss you already” at takeoff every race weekend.

You were hidden. But not from him. Never from him.

The soft launch came at the end of month six.

You didn’t know he was going to do it. You were curled on the couch in one of his hoodies, asleep against his chest, a mug of tea half-drunk beside you, your belly just barely visible in the folds of fabric.

He took the photo without asking. Posted it the next day.

“Off-season looks different this year.”

No tag. No mention. Just vibes. Just your bump.

The world went insane. Fans spiralled. Gossip accounts exploded. Theories flooded Twitter, TikTok, Reddit. F1 group chats imploded. Everyone wanted to know: who was she? how far along? was it serious?

The McLaren press office had no clue. Your friends messaged you in full feral meltdown. And then Zak called.

You picked up on the second ring. There was silence. Then: “…Is it you?”

You froze. Then said quietly, “Yes.”

Another pause. “How far?”

“Six and a half months.”

“…Jesus Christ.”

You winced. “I was scared.”

“I’m scared.”

Fair.

You met him at his house that night. You didn’t bring Lando. You didn’t know if you were allowed to. Zak opened the door, stared at your belly, and immediately sat down.

Then he put his head in his hands and said, “Please tell me it’s at least a boy.”

You laughed. Then cried. Then he cried too. He forgave you, eventually. Kind of. Mostly.

Lando came by the next day. Zak didn’t say a word. Just opened the door. Let him in. Poured a drink.

Lando kissed your cheek and kept his hand on your bump the entire time. He didn’t flinch once.

Zak watched him. Quiet. Unreadable.

Then finally said, “If you fuck this up, I’ll bench you.”

Lando grinned. “If I fuck this up, I’ll bench myself.”

Three weeks later, Zak publicly posted the first photo of the three of you, Lando kissing your cheek, you smiling with your bump, and Zak in the middle holding a tiny McLaren onesie.

Caption: “Turns out, we’re not just building for the future on track.”

The internet broke. And for the first time in months? You didn’t care.

Because Lando was beside you. And you knew this wasn’t just a one night thing. It never had been.

[froggibus]

— Little Things, Big Things - Clark Kent

Pairing: Clark Kent x gn! reader

Genre: comfort, fluff

Word Count: 917

Summary: after cancelling date night yet again, Clark reminds you that you are the most important thing to him

CW: established relationship, minor spoilers for Superman, cancelled plans, some crying, mostly wholesome/fluffy cuteness

officially obsessed w clark ^.^ james gunn you have changed my mind after 21 years of Not being attracted to superman <3 would love some cute/fun reqs of him to work on this week! hope everyone has a great day ♡

Harsh raindrops clatter on your window, the smell of petrichor seeping into your room from the small crack where you’d opened the window to let in some fresh air. Despite the thick, grey clouds looming overhead, just across Metropolis, a sunset blooms. Bursts of pink and gold paint the sky, the setting sun winking at you from the horizon. 

You sigh, drawing your knees into your chest. Somewhere across town, somewhere in those brilliant hues, your boyfriend is off saving the world. Saving the world and missing out on your date night.

Your attention flicks away from the window and back to your phone, still open on the text he’d sent you not even fifteen minutes ago.

Something came up :( will explain later. Love you.

You wipe your tears on the back of your hand and sniff miserably. It’s silly to be this upset, you know that. The work Clark—no, Superman—is doing is important. It’s selfish to want more from him, you think. It’s not fair.

Still, the thoughts taste bitter on your tongue.

Turning off your phone, you focus on your tv and the familiar series playing. While originally you’d planned to order takeout and show Clark your favorite movie, you’ve now settled on eating leftovers from your fridge—apricot jam, cheese and an odd assortment of crackers—and watching your comfort show.

In the next half hour, the night gets darker and the air gets colder, a draft leaking in from the open window. It doesn’t really bother you, though. The frigid air helps dry your tears and the darkness wraps around you like a blanket.

You’re caught up in the season finale, your mouth stuffed with a cracker, when there’s a knock on your window. You flinch, dropping the phone you’d been idly scrolling on into your bed. 

Superman flashes you with a grin, offering you a wave. Can I come in? He mouths to you.

You reluctantly pull yourself from your bed rotting and push your window open all of the way. You take a step back and watch him awkwardly twist his body to fit into the not-so-large frame of your window.

“Hey,” he says breathlessly.

You rest on the edge of your bed. “Hey.”

Despite the way his forehead glistens with sweat and his suit is dulled with dust, his eyes still shine with joy at the sight of you. He takes a few slow steps towards you until the birth of his hips is between your legs.

You look at him through your lashes. He looks so tall like this, standing in your flickering lamp light, gazing down at you.

He rests a hand on your cheek. “So, how’s your evening going?”

“Fine, yeah,” you nod slowly, taking in a sniffly breath. “Just watching my favorite show. How was,” you glance out the window, “all that?”

“Good, good. The uh, the Justice Gang showed up so I left early.”

“Don’t they need you?”

He shrugs his broad shoulders, swiping a gentle thumb beneath your eye. If it was anyone else, they probably wouldn’t have noticed the slight congestion to your voice, the red tinge to your eyes. But it’s Clark, and in the few months you’ve been dating, he’s proven to know you better than anyone else ever has.

“I think you need me more.”

His sincerity is enough to have the lump in your throat coming back. Leave it to Clark to make you cry from his kindness alone.

He leans in and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry I bailed on date night, sweetheart.”

“It’s okay. You had important things to do. I understand.”

He crouches down and rests his palms on your knees. His blue eyes meet yours, an ocean of concern and admiration.

“You’re important, too.”

“Yeah but,” you shrug and let your arms hang limply at your sides. “Saving the city is a big thing.”

Clark opens and closes his mouth, his words refusing to come out. This isn’t the first time you’ve had this talk—it isn’t even the first time he’s had to miss date night. You insist it’s okay, you insist you care more about him saving the city than you care about him missing a date.

And you mean it, you really mean it. But Clark is tired of seeing your wet eyes and the slump of your shoulders. He’s tired of letting you down, even if it’s for a good cause. 

He grabs your hands in his. His palms are warm against your cold skin, fresh callouses greeting your soft skin.

“Saving the city is a big thing,” he admits. “But maybe sometimes date night can be a big thing, too.”

He strokes his thumbs across the backs of your hands and listens to the sound of your heartbeat. One of his favorite sounds in the world, he sometimes catches himself looking for it from across the city.

You hum in acknowledgement. “You really think so?”

He nods slowly, rising to his feet and pulling you off of the bed and into his arms. It never ceases to amaze you just how strong he is, just how easily he catches buildings and throws cars. 

You let yourself relax into his arms, the familiar landscape of his muscles soothing you. You feel weightless like this, you feel safe.

“How about I go change, pick us up some takeout and we watch that movie, hm?”

You cup his cheek and press a soft, long overdue kiss to his lips. “That sounds perfect.”

thanks for reading & have a wonderful day ♡( ˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

masterlist | dc masterlist

[merchantziro]

Alright but I feel Batman is like one of the few on the JL Light side, alongside the other Bats and others who agree with him like Green Arrow above, looking at this with a more fair perspective.

After all while Phantom's ghost form physically would eternally remain a 14 year old, that doesn't mean his maturity and such shouldn't.

Because he's got experience with Baby Doll, he knows how hard it is to get into a serious relationship as a consenting adult when you look younger than you actually are so he was a bit happy Phantom WAS able to get a happy life for himself and a wife BEFORE the JL got involved, made the "fake identity" public, and decided to start taking action to make it worse for the ghost as he's on the run with a wife in jail and kids in the hands of a government agency dedicated to hunting and studying ghosts...

The others argued about the same logic as Captain Marvel being a young 10 year old with the power to gain an adult immortal body through magic which jeopardized his position in the League when it was discovered. But the difference is Billy himself was a living, breathing 10 year old with a life masquerading as an ageless champion of the gods, meanwhile there are definitive sightings of Phantom all throughout history which means he presumably should be potentially older than a large majority of the Justice League members themselves.

And even if they don't want to count past sightings on the same grounds they presumed Shazam to be immortal, Phantom has been active as a hero for at least 14 years dead now past his 14 years alive...

Besides Phantom under his identity as Danny Fenton clearly wanted to work, have a wife and Half-Ghost children to take care of, and live a life he never got a fair chance to live in the first place while still being stuck unalive... Who were they to actually take that away from him because of the technicalities? And without even discussing it with him first beforehand so Phantom himself can give input on HIS unlife and what he wants to do with it?

Now if only Constantine and the rest of the JLD, including Billy and Diana, were busy doing anything but returning his 12+ calls and alerts...They would probably be able to beat the message through the other's thick skulls.

Now to mix things up ala Punch Drunk Love,

A Deconstruction of the Justice League infantilizing Danny (also features eternal teen Phantom)

---

Danny's life is ruined. His boss is under investigation for violating child labor laws, His wife in prison for pedophilia, His kids in the custody of the GIW for being part ghost. He's on the run. The cause?

The Justice League found out eternal teenage hero Phantom has a "fake identity" of 28 year old Danny Fenton and didn't take it well. And in proper DCxDP fashion, decided that Danny is a baby and isn't allowed nice things

But now, here's some humor. Amity Park closed ranks against the JL. Even the GIW

---

Danny at payphone: Just checking in from Star City. Green Arrow seems to be the only sane one and is just whistling while pretending he doesn't see me. So how are things on your end?

The wife, on the phone: The other inmates are still laughing at me. Klein and Owen managed to get a grasp on part ghost kids

---

Because while the GIW hate ghosts and are perfectly willing to do painful experiments on a ghost pretending to be human, they're less likely to do the same to actual known hybrids (the birth certificates said so) because they hate the JL (like every government department) more, so they're keeping the kids in custody out of spite

[andbie]

SPIKE! shot

maeda riku smau !!

05. SPIKE!!! (half written)

warnings: cursing, death threat, getting hit with a ball, blackmailing, not proofread

fts!! jaehee , anton

wc: 600

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

it was the next day already, and again, you wait for riku patiently, tapping your pen on the surface of the wooden table repeatedly, reviewing your notes that you’ve made over the days.

waiting….

waiting…

waiting..

you check your watch, you’re pretty sure his practice is over by now… “oh that little shit head…” you mutters under your breath, realizing it’s past the meet up time. WAY past the meet up time.

again—you wait for a bit longer, giving riku your benefit of the doubt, maybe his coach was still talking to them? to be fair his team did bad their last game!

10 minutes,

15…

20….

“hey y/n, the library is about to close, maybe you can hang out elsewhere?” you look up to see jaehee, a first year music major, who also does part-time in the library.

“oh- yeah sure no problem,” you quietly spoke while you begin to pack your things, while jaehee watches. “you’ve been waiting here since monday after school hours, why’s that?” he asks curiously, but in all honesty he just wants to know why you always leave with the biggest frown on your face.

“research stuff, been waiting for someone too” you explained, finally finished on packing. “thanks for letting me hang for this long though.” you look up to him and smiles, which jaehee sweetly returned.

jaehee walks you to the doors of the library, the keys of the library jingling in his hand. “no problem y/n! i hope you nail that research of yours—and hope that person finally shows up” you snicker at his comment, nodding in agreement.

“thank you jaehee, that means a lot!” you wave him a goodbye, which he returned, before heading to the gymnasium.

oh man riku is dead.

notes in hand, big frown plastered on your face, you arrive at the gymnasium.

you open the door, to be greeted by the volleyball team, some players resting, some playing, one of them being riku.

you decided to approach one of those who are resting, not wanting to confront riku immediately. “hey anton, is your practice done or no?”

the mentioned player—anton, looks up to you with a raised brow, “the practice been done since an hour ago, we’re just chilling now. why?”

you smile bitterly, shaking your head “nothing important, just some business with one of your teammates. thanks anton.” you turn around and spot riku playing, and you swore you felt your entire face twitch.

you stay behind the lines of the court, but maybe too close for comfort. “maeda riku!” you scream, and like the past few days, things didn’t go according to your plan, now even timing wasn’t on your side.

SPIKE!!!

as riku was about to do a spike, he heard his full government name being called called by his research partner, you. and unluckily enough, the direction of the ball was facing to where you were. he was startled, and he wasn’t able to control his strength when he spiked the ball.

and you got hit by the ball HARD. you fell down, butt first. “oh shit y/n!” riku runs up to you, completely panicking. “oh my god oh my god oh my god im so sorry y/n i didn’t mean to oh my god im sorry!”

you fnally sat down, wincing, hand over your shoulder, massaging the area where you were hit. “ow you ass…” you grimaced, riku places his hand on your back, supporting you.

“oh my god im so sorry y/n!! ill do anything!! i swear!!!” he keeps blabbering, but that caught your attention, and you stopped wincing.

“anything?”

“yes anything!”

“do the research with me.”

BONUS !!

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

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andbie time !! : IT FINALLY GOT TO THIS PART FUH I RLLY MADE TS SO SLOWBURN EVEN IM WAITING FOR MYSELF TO UPDATE THIS 😭😭

taglist ( open !! ) :: @hahaechans @mandylip @kswluvrr @kkyeoji @bloomingwish @renisprobablyonthetoilet @tae2an @sunhyeswife

[utilitycaster]

I wanted to share this so I can get other people's thoughts on this, to see if it's just me being "mean" or something worth pointing? So I got back to C2 thanks to M9 Rewatch and it's as good as I remembered but I didn't remember the cast being so... slow to understand mechanics? I can give it a pass for Ashley as she had other things going on but they had player already one whole campaign to know how stuff like Sneak Attack works. And even if not, I find it astonishing that by Ep 21 there is still doubts on how long Rage lasts. And I knowww it will get better and M9 will grow to be this huge party comp, but it's still rough to see how the cast from one of if not *the* biggest AP takes upwards to 20 episodes to understand how their character works.

Hi anon, you are, in my opinion, being overly judgmental.

One of the players from the D&D game I play in was out yesterday night and so I and another player jaegered her character. We've been playing together over a year, and we're not terribly high level, and she plays a subclass that I've seen played in AP and there were still things I needed to double check. And I consider myself a fairly mechanically-inclined player. I know how my stuff works (though even then, ngl, I end up looking up certain finicky details every few combats), and I know loosely how the classes of players in a game I'm currently DM-ing work, but every detail, like whether something is half damage or all or nothing, or whether the attacker has to be within 5 feet of you or the target has to be within 5 feet of you for an ability? That doesn't always stick, especially if it's not an ability you use every combat.

I also looked up episode 21's transcript and like, Sam and Ashley aren't stopping the table to look things up for 5 minutes. They're asking very quick questions - Sam's just like "do I get sneak attack" which, I don't know how well he can see the battle map and whether allies are engaged, or if he knows whether the enemy can see Nott! That's a fair question to ask. (There are times when the cast does grind things to a halt for 5 minutes, and I don't care for that admittedly; but also, like, in a casual home game I can be kind of zoned out checking the PHB while everyone else goes if I have a finicky spell, and that's harder if you're on camera).

I also am going to admit I really don't care for when people act as though Critical Role has an obligation to like, teach D&D or the culture surrounding it (do not get me started on the invasive weirdos who act like the cast has an obligation to discuss safety tools). There are APs where teaching a system is part of the goal - Age of Umbra would be an example - but that's really never been an intent of Critical Role's main campaigns. They want to play D&D and tell a story. If you pick up an interest in D&D and even some details of play that's cool, but like, it's not their responsibility nor their intention in-game to tell people how to play a barbarian.

You can obviously feel how you feel, but I feel like the examples you gave were exceptionally minor and so if you need to vent about it as you watch you should find a like-minded friend and do it in the DMs. But also I would advise trying to get over it because I always feel like getting overly nitpicky on mechanics in a game you're not in that you can't affect is usually not that fun. There are a few cases where it makes such a big difference that it's worth discussing, but if it doesn't actually have a momentous impact I'm in favor of letting it slide.

[xylatox]

Just like old times || cbg

Literally shaking in excitement to read this (i am so sat and ready). Guys i love kiki so much i hope you know that :( thats all i wanna say before i read hehe :3

there weren’t a lot of consistent things in your life. 

your parents were divorced so it was a new bed you were sleeping on every weekend. you had mood swings that you couldn’t even begin to describe, and days melted into night as quickly as you’d blink. 

Man :( this beginning is so insane actually, i love the poeticness of it actually and the first line immediately catches your attention.

the fact that things were so unpredictable, so everchanging, and so inconsistent, made them consistent.  

Consistently inconsistent hehe 

Loving the mc because music, headphones and her listening to a playlist hehe. Despite being made by her ex, she still listens to it which shows that at least to some degree it still means something to her, and I mean, good music is good music right? Also love Jungwon’s reasoning being just bad vibes because that’s so me

Love Won being the very supportive brother honestly, its so sweet and makes me so happy that hes looking out for her

your brother’s best friend that moved away all those years ago. the same boy who used to tease you for wearing glasses or the fact that even though you were older than jungwon, you’d still ask him to watch scary movies with you.

Oh this is so cute

ALL TIME LOW MENTIOIN YIPPEE!!

Mc choosing to grab the handle instead of his hand no </////3 (this genuinely breaks my heart but i get it honestly). Like you can tell their relationship is special just from Gyu’s reaction and mc just going through a breakup (even if it wasnt super terrible by any means) still shows she values space in general

Poor taehyun😭babie threw up in the car before :( hes still such a cutie

they were kind of like scooby doo and the rest of the crew in some ways. 

This made me super giggly because i get the vibe and i love scooby doo so much :((( 

beomgyu notices you struggling to buckle your seatbelt so he decides to help, his hands, soft as ever, gently brushing over yours as he takes the buckle from your grasp, pulling it gently and locking it in with a click. when you look up at beomgyu, his gaze is already fixed onto yours. 

Biting my finger so hard oh my god Beomgyu you cant just do that. And the fact that he’s still watching her?? Id just pass out and die honestly

“what?” you ask, sliding your headphones off and everyone is just staring at you. 

“wow. the car could’ve been crashing and you wouldn’t give a single fuck.” heeseung says from the front seat and you just glare at him, sleepiness heavily weighing on your eyelips.

To be fair, 1. They wouldnt have time to tell her the car is crashing and 2. Shes chilling with music in her ears so it probably wouldve been fine😭 i love how silly they are.

I love that beomgyu is not even hiding his interest in her, its so obvious to everyone

Bro im on the edge of my seat, like what happened between themmmmm

::(( not them getting interrupted, also why is poor taehyun always throwing up😭😭😭

taehyun following after with a pout. “but.. it’s yummy.”

Hes so cute :::::(((((

“i will have you know i’m not a virgin!” heeseung adds and everyone rolls their eyes. 

“a blowjob where you lasted under 3 minutes doesn’t count.” sunoo scoffed. 

“okay, then HALF a virgin.” heeseung defended. 

“try a quarter.” 

“or an eighth even.” 

This caught me so off guard and i laughed out loud, i love their vibe soso much

in retrospect, beomgyu only teased you right after defending you because he didn’t want jungwon to know he had a crush on you. 

Im so giggly because beomgyu is that kind of crush thats a bit annoying but super sweet :( 

“nah, they’d never. the cops would find me too cute.”

So real, won is so cute he’ll just get away

“did you seriously bring mr. giggles with you?” jungwon asks, referring to the stupid yet oddly cute plushy of a blobfish. you had named it mr. giggles because it always managed to make you laugh. the animal was just so ugly that it was cute and laughable. 

OH MY GOD A BLOBFISH PLUSH :(((( BRO. if istg i have to have one because theyre so cute and ugly fr

:( gyu being her first kiss, and him being that one consistent person before leaving definitely broke her:( 

I love how obvious just soft and quiet beomgyu loves her, it makes me so freaking soft actually

KIKI THE CARAMEL LYRICS HELLO?!?!

which was ironic in a lot of cases because although the moment was like a dream that was as sweet as caramel and you wanted nothing more than to stick close to beomgyu, the very same dream turned bitter as reality soon settled when beomgyu told you that he’d be leaving and you had no one to tell of the heartbreak you had to go through alone as beomgyu flew thousands of miles away from you. 

Oh my god, my freaking heart

“no– listen. okay, so in indonesia, there was this kid who would smoke like 40 cigarettes a day, crazy i know, but he lives a healthy and normal life now so i guess everything is good. i guess i’m only bringing this up because like… it’s like us. 

Not me knowing this video😭i remember watching that on youtube as a kid and i was always so amazed like ita insane actually

Everytime they get interrupted i die a bit on the inside

beomgyu, the boy from your past who found his way back into your life, reminding you of all of the good things you two had shared and would soon experience again as if it was just like old times. 

:( im so happy and sad. I loved this end and the fic soso much :( kiki i love you. I am so in love with them. I love your writing and the poeticness of it so much. It honestly feels so inspired by music (not because of the literal inclusion) but because the way it writes and sounds is so lyrical to me. Gonna throw up and cry, i love them and you so much :(

just like old times ₊ ⊹

pairing: choi beomgyu x reader genre: brothers bsf!beomgyu, childhood friends to lovers, romance, fluff, right person wrong time warnings: profanity, kissing, jungwon is yn's brother, smoking weed, drinking alcohol, yn is a bit self destructive, mentions of depression and declining mental health, mentions of underaged smoking and drinking, mentions of using a fake id, some self deprecating jokes, friendly banter and teasing, mentions of losing virginity and a blowjob but not very explicit, kissing and suggestive jokes, 18+ not proofread lol

synopsis: joining your brother and his friends on a summer weekend trip after your breakup wasn't on your list of things to do as you try to get over your ex. another thing you didn't have on your list was reuniting with your brother's best friend who has just returned from studying abroad for the last 5 years.

wc: 7713

there weren’t a lot of consistent things in your life. 

your parents were divorced so it was a new bed you were sleeping on every weekend. you had mood swings that you couldn’t even begin to describe, and days melted into night as quickly as you’d blink. 

similarly, you weren’t very consistent either. 

it felt like time was moving without you and no matter how hard you tried to catch up, the goal post was constantly moving, so when your boyfriend of 3 years, the one consistent thing in your life you had ever known, broke up with you because he felt like you were dragging him down; the lack of consistency in your life transitioned into being the only consistent thing. 

the fact that things were so unpredictable, so everchanging, and so inconsistent, made them consistent.  

“yo, you coming? bin’s here with the rest of the guys.” your brother called, leaning on your doorframe as you laid on your bed, headphones snug over your ears as you listened to the playlist your boyfriend– ex, had made you. 

you catch a glimpse of jungwon from the corner of your eye, “what?’ you ask, slipping one side off. 

“the guys are here, come on.” he says. 

jungwon was your little brother but with the way he was so wise and mature, you’d think you were the younger one. when he heard of the breakup, he kind of saw it coming, he had never really liked your boyfriend. why? no specific, jungwon would said, “just bad vibes, man.” and at first you’d just laugh it off but eventually his words rang true. 

he was bad vibes, indeed. 

the break was fast and only hurt for a short amount of time. like a bandaid being ripped off as you hyped yourself up for the moment and when it’s done, all that is left is a slight sore feeling that lingers, most of the time a scar from the wound. 

your brother had invited you to a little summer weekend trip to help you get over your ex. in all honesty, you were kind of looking forward to being home alone while your brother was gone but he wasn’t going to leave you alone in the state you were in. it wasn’t in your plans to even go out any time soon, hell, the breakup was only a week ago and you were planning to become a recluse until god knows when– maybe when summer turns into fall, but jungwon wasn’t having that. 

so that’s how you found yourself slinging a weekend bag over your shoulders, just some beach clothes and random items to keep yourself occupied so you wouldn’t really have to socialize with your brother’s friends. they weren’t bad but they were boys and you didn’t really wanna be surrounded by so many men but jungwon promised you that it’s “super chill. just treat the guys like they're girls, they treat you like a sister too.” he said with a cheesy smile that you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at and smile back. 

when the two of you walked through the door and into the summer air, you’re met with a warm but comforting breeze– it hugged you in ways that provided comfort when comfort became unfamiliar. you stopped to take a breath in, steadying and ground yourself, as you waited for jungwon to finish locking the doors. 

“come on, lets go!” he says cheerfully, patting you on the back and dragging you towards the baby blue van that soobin was driving. jungwon and his friend’s called it the cloud machine for a few reasons, one being because it was blue like the sky and two because when they all turned 21, it became their go to place to smoke and hotbox. 

you wave to everyone as the car door slides open, soobin in the driver’s seat with heeseung sitting shotgun, the two of them arguing about what song to play next and that heeseung needs to focus on the GPS instead of the AUX. 

taehyun and sunoo were in the back, an empty seat in the middle of them that your brother jumped into. 

and in the two seats that occupy the center of the van, on the seat furthest from you, sat someone you had never thought you’d ever see again. 

beomgyu. 

your brother’s best friend that moved away all those years ago. the same boy who used to tease you for wearing glasses or the fact that even though you were older than jungwon, you’d still ask him to watch scary movies with you. beomgyu the boy who you smoked with for the very first time at the age of 16 years old, introduced you to all time low, and had a messy mop of hair that usually covered his eyes. 

that very same boy was now sitting in front of you, smiling at you like no time has passed, only it did. so much has happened in the 5 years beomgyu was overseas and you truly didn’t think you’d ever see him again. you knew that your brother and the rest of their friends still kept in contact with him, they’d play games late at night on their computers but you didn’t know he was going to be back– let alone be on the trip. 

“hey you.” beomgyu says, a smile on his face, a shade of pink lightly dancing on his cheeks as he extends his hand to you, offering to help you into the van– but you don’t take it. you decide to grab onto the handle by the seat in front of yours to help you into the van, lugging your bag with you and dropping it into the space between your seat and his. 

“hey..” you swallowed, doing your best to avoid eye contact. 

“alright! everyone buckle up! road trip rules, we’re going to stop by the store first to grab snacks, better make sure to use the bathroom there because we are not stopping. 

taehyun–” soobin says, looking at his friend through the rearview mirror, to which taehyun’s eyes widen. 

“do not, and i repeat, do not! throw up in my car this time. or else i’m leaving you on the side of the road.” he warns and taehyun rolls his eyes. “dude! it was one time, let it go..” taehyun argues but this just irks soobin even more. 

“one time my ass! you’ve thrown up in my car at least 3 times now�� four! actually! the time we went to the club last semester.” soobin adds. 

“you guys took this car to the club?” you ask teasingly, everyone sheepishly looks away and you find yourself laughing at the idea of your brother and his friends pulling up to the club in a baby blue van. 

“yeah, it was hilarious. taehyun had to stick his head out the window and sunoo was comforting him while soobin yelled about the vomit” beomgyu says, slightly leaning in to provide the explanation. you look at him a bit weirdly, considering he knew the story but you were so sure he was overseas when it happened. 

“you were there..?” 

beomgyu shakes his head, “no. he was on discord with us the whole ride home.” jungwon says from the back after tapping your shoulder. “buckle up, yn.” he adds and you realize you hadn’t fastened your seatbelt yet. 

you struggle to get the buckle into the hole due to the state of soobin’s van. it was old, not too old that it was a safety hazard to drive around, but old enough that things like the seatbelts being difficult and the window only rolling down 4 inches could classify it as somewhat of a relic. it gave it charm though, soobin always referred to the van as his baby, it was always your brother and his friends plus the cloud machine. 

they were kind of like scooby doo and the rest of the crew in some ways. 

beomgyu notices you struggling to buckle your seatbelt so he decides to help, his hands, soft as ever, gently brushing over yours as he takes the buckle from your grasp, pulling it gently and locking it in with a click. when you look up at beomgyu, his gaze is already fixed onto yours. 

“um.. thanks.” you muttered, quickly turning away to slip your headphones on so you could just ignore him the whole drive there. you glue your eyes onto the seat in front of you, finding interest in the different patterns woven into the seat as heeseung’s hands drummed onto them, all the while, beomgyu’s eyes don’t move from their position on your face. 

watching you and taking in all of your features. 

it’s been 5 years since you’ve last seen each other and you were more beautiful than he could remember. the pictures you posted on your instagram didn’t fully capture your beauty. in all honesty, beomgyu was pretty shocked when jungwon mentioned you tagging along. he was nervous to see you again after how you two left things but he knew that if he was going to pick up where things left off, he couldn’t be a coward. 

beomgyu smiles at you, lips fixed into a pout as you scrolled on your phone to look for a song to listen to– and just like how you didn’t notice beomgyu’s gaze and warm smile, he didn’t notice the narrowed expression of your brother as he observed the energy between his best friend and older sister. 

۰ ۫ 

at hour two of the road trip, you’re awoken by jungwon frantically shaking you, followed by the screams of his friends. “yn!! wake up! we’re about to crash!” he says and his words don’t even process in your brain because you’re more upset that he woke you up. 

“what?” you ask, sliding your headphones off and everyone is just staring at you. 

“wow. the car could’ve been crashing and you wouldn’t give a single fuck.” heeseung says from the front seat and you just glare at him, sleepiness heavily weighing on your eyelips. “is this what you guys woke me up for?” you mumble, trying to wipe the sleep away from your eyes with your sleeve. 

“no, we’re taking another pitstop because sunoo needs to pee.” jungwon adds. 

“yeah, he has the bladder of a chihuahua.” taehyun says as he steps out of the van through the other door– sunoo just playfully shoving him in return. “you coming?” jungwon asks and you stretch your neck around a bit before answering. 

“no, im good. i’ll stay in here.” 

“oh– i’ll stay too then.” beomgyu chimes in and everyone stops momentarily before continuing what they were doing, hoping that neither you or beomgyu noticed their reactions. “okay, just text me if you want something from inside.” jungwon says before sliding the door closed and joining the rest of the group as they head inside of the store. 

you really hoped beomgyu would’ve gone with them because you weren’t ready to be left in a space alone with him– hell, you weren’t even ready to see him let alone spend the weekend with him at some beach house that soobin found. the air between you and beomgyu is thick. you considered striking up conversation so it wasn’t awkward but you ultimately decided just slipping your headphones back on and trying to go back to sleep. 

“yn, how’ve you been?” he asks. 

shit. 

you turn towards him as you were in the middle of slipping them on, eyes blinking rapidly as you tried to come up with an answer. how were you? well, let’s see. you got dumped by your boyfriend because he basically saw you as a burden and you haven’t really processed any of that fully before you were whisked away by your brother to attend a weekend getaway with the boy you’ve had a crush on since you were 6 years old that moved 5 years ago and now is suddenly back. 

“m’fine.” you simply put even if you weren’t. 

beomgyu saw right through that but because it’s been so long since you’ve last spoken and considering where you left off– he wasn’t sure if he should pry. “i’m good too, by the way.” he adds and you realize you hadn’t even asked him how he’s been. 

“sorry– um. i’m glad you’re doing well. it’s nice to have you back…” 

beomgyu smiles at your words, eyes closing like they usually do when he genuinely smiles at something– god, that smile. you hadn’t seen it in so long. you saw it through the random photos you saw on instagram, but your ex hated seeing you like and leave comments on beomgyu’s pictures so he had you unfollow him and you stupidly obliged. 

“when did you get back?” 

beomgyu readjusts in his seat so that his body was facing you, leaning his head on the headrest of his chair. “last night actually, i told the guys to schedule this trip next weekend so i could adjust to the jet lag but you know soobin– his ass doesn’t listen.” the two of you laughed at that because it was true. soobin was stubborn, not in the bad way– at least most of the time it wasn’t bad, but he typically just did what he wanted because why not. 

he was the term, “fuck it, we ball.” in human form. that’s how your brother and his friends usually found themselves in sticky situations. the first memory that popped in your mind was when they were all freshmen in college, too young to buy or drink alcohol but felt like they were all hot shit because they got invited to a college party– the only gripe being it was byob and none of them had even been inside of a liquor store before. 

but soobin had a ‘genius’ idea. he somehow acquired a fake id, his alias being “alvin lebron” and because soobin, your brother, and the rest of their friends were all eager to make a good first impression as college freshmen at their first college party, they encouraged him to walk into the liquor store with confidence only to be turned away by the shop owner after getting his fake id taken away and cut up into several pieces in front of him. 

beomgyu wasn’t there because he had already been away for 2 years when it happened, but you knew he would’ve been down for their stupidity if he was there. 

“yeah.. sounds like bin.” 

and soon the awkward silence was back. you so desperately wanted to melt into the seat, you had barely enough time to process your feelings about your ex and the breakup and now you were being forced to process what happened with you and beomgyu all those years ago. it was easy to get over what happened because he just moved and you didn’t have to see him. 

out of sight. 

out of mind. 

but now, he was sitting next to you in soobin’s van; hands in his lap and eyes fixed on your face as if you were going to disappear at any moment and he wanted to be able to take in how you looked now just in case he’d ever forget. 

although he’d never. 

“look, about that night– it’s fine, gyu. we don’t have to talk about it." you interrupt. 

“no, but i want to. it’s not fair that– god! taehyun this is the 3rd store you’ve gotten us almost banned.” beomgyu gets interrupted for the second time when the door on his side of the car slides open, you brother and his friends approaching with bags in their hands; a frustrated soobin fumbling with his keys. 

“what happened?” you ask. 

sunoo goes on to explain that taehyun had vomited in the middle of the drink aisle and they had to call several staff to come help clean up after they were instructed to, “check out then please leave.” by a small elderly woman who looked like she was entirely done with the shenanigans of the five boys. 

“i told you to stop eating takis and redbull on an empty stomach…” sunoo mumbles as he moves to his spot in the back of the car, taehyun following after with a pout. “but.. it’s yummy.”.

the rest of them settle back into their seats, the arrangements still the same as when you first got into the car. “here, got you this because you’ve been dehydrated from all those tears.” jungwon says, tossing you a bottle of bright blue gatorade. beomgyu’s eyes follow the bottle as it flies through the car and because he’s a bit worried that you won’t catch, his hands reach out for the bottle; hands wrapping around the plastic at the same time yours do as you both find yourself now holding onto one another’s hands. 

the sudden physical contact startles the two of you so you both pull away instantly, the bottle of gatorade dropping onto the floor as a result. you just stare at one another for a moment before jungwon breaks the awkwardness between you, “uh.. here. you dropped it.” he mumbles, picking the bottle off the floor and putting it in your lap. 

you mumbled a small thank you before fixing yourself back into your seat, headphones snug around your head once again as you try to forget the weird interaction with beomgyu– just another reason for you to regret going on this trip. 

۰ ۫  

thankfully, for the last few hours of the drive you’re able to sleep through it all without your brother trying to prank you or any more awkward moments between you and beomgyu. the music blasting in your ears helped with clearing your mind and although it was somewhat loud, it put you to sleep. 

it’s late in the afternoon when you finally arrive at the place soobin had found for all of you to stay the weekend. it was a small but quaint home with two floors that was just 10 minutes from the beach. it had lush green grass and tall trees that stretched into the blue sky. you were pretty impressed with soobin’s decision and so was everyone else. 

that was until you all walked in and realized there were only two rooms. 

“soobin, you idiot.” jungwon scoffed as they all dropped their bags into the living room to decide what the room arrangements would be, typically it would’ve just been three to a room but since you tagged along, now making it seven– there’d be an uneven amount of people in each room. 

it also doesn’t help that you were the only girl and jungwon’s sister because he instantly turned on brother mode by saying, “alright, none of you virgins are sharing a room with my sister.” as he pointed to all of them with a narrowed glare. 

“i will have you know i’m not a virgin!” heeseung adds and everyone rolls their eyes. 

“a blowjob where you lasted under 3 minutes doesn’t count.” sunoo scoffed. 

“okay, then HALF a virgin.” heeseung defended. 

“try a quarter.” 

“or an eighth even.” 

they all took turns teasing heeseung as you and beomgyu stood to the side laughing. 

“won, it’s fine. it can just be you, me, and beomgyu.” you added. 

“yeah! it’ll be just like old times.” beomgyu says, picking up his bag off the floor with a smile as he went to the room you three would be sharing. his words echo in your head and you find yourself questioning it. would it be just like old times? like when beomgyu would come over and spend that night at your place, doing his best to hang out with both you and jungwon even though he was technically jungwon’s friend and not yours. 

jungwon would even claim that you were trying to steal his friend but beomgyu would always defend you which was typically always followed by a teasing remark. in retrospect, beomgyu only teased you right after defending you because he didn’t want jungwon to know he had a crush on you. 

“come on, let’s go before beomgyu gets his outside clothes on the bed.” jungwon says, tapping your shoulder as he picks up both of your bags. the other four were still in the living room arguing over who got to sleep on the bed and who’d be sleeping on the floor as you followed jungwon. 

you found beomgyu already laying on the bed, in his outside clothes, so jungwon scolded him– slapping beomgyu’s ass to get him off. beomgyu releases a small ‘ow’ before hopping off the bed, rubbing his ass in response. “what was that for!” and jungwon laughs at him. 

“for getting your dirty outside clothes on the bed! go change.” he says and beomgyu just rolls his eyes. “glad to see you’re still a little clean freak.” beomgyu snorts as he opens his bag to grab a new set of clothes. “not a clean freak, you’re just grubby bro.” jungwon responds as he takes out some things from his bag, his toiletries, a manga he’s been reading, a speaker, and a small metallic box that you didn’t even need to ask the contents of. 

“you seriously brought weed? what if we got pulled over, soobin would’ve killed you if the cops found that.” you scold and jungwon waves you off like it was nothing. “nah, they’d never. the cops would find me too cute.” he says after putting his things on the vanity in the room. 

“yall wanna smoke tonight?” he asks and beomgyu perks up.

“hell yes! i haven’t smoked in ages, the weed overseas was ass.” he adds as he slings a shirt over his shoulders. 

“what about you, yn?” beomgyu asks. he knows your answer was probably going to be yes since you’re quite the stoner. you did introduce the idea of smoking weed to him and it eventually trickled into the friend group, all of jungwon and his friends becoming potheads as they became older. 

“uh.. not sure.” 

“what? thought you were like a stoner, what happened?” he asks, walking a bit closer. 

“her stupid ex happened– won!” you say, throwing a stuffed animal at him that you had just pulled from inside your bag. “did you seriously bring mr. giggles with you?” jungwon asks, referring to the stupid yet oddly cute plushy of a blobfish. you had named it mr. giggles because it always managed to make you laugh. the animal was just so ugly that it was cute and laughable. 

“yes, i did. now give it back.” 

“only if you smoke with us tonight.” and you roll your eyes in defeat. 

“fine– now give it.” you say, snatching it back as jungwon and beomgyu bump fists in celebration. 

“yo, we’re gonna go check out the beach. who’s coming?” heeseung asks, popping his head into the room. the three of you glance around at each other before responding. you shake your head, telling heeseung that you were too tired and would just stay in for the rest of the night while jungwon says he’ll go just as he’s pulling out beach shorts from his bag. 

“gyu? you coming?” 

“uh.. yeah, i’ll go.” he answers. 

the boys all finish getting ready for the beach as you’re putting away all of the things they had bought from the store to fill the fridge for the weekend– most of it just being instant food and a bunch of alcohol. “did you guys seriously need to get 3 cases of beer?” you say, huffing as you struggle to put the last case in the fridge. 

“heeseung’s idea!” sunoo says matter of factly as he plops onto the couch. they leave after just a few minutes, taehyun and beomgyu arguing over something stupid most likely. jungwon gives you a small hug before leaving, telling you to call if anything happens. 

“won, i’m older than you. you need to call me if anything happens.” 

“yeah, yeah– you’re the crybaby between us siblings. i’ll see you later.. and stop listening to that sad music! it’s only gonna make you sadder.” he says as he slips through the door, not giving you any time to clapback. you check the time after putting the last of the food into the fridge, it was almost 5pm and although it was starting to get somewhat late, you chose to take a nap anyways. 

you changed out of your clothes and into something a bit more comfortable before falling onto the bed, wrapping the blanket around you and letting your eyelids flutter shut– hoping to get a bit of sleep before the boys got back, a bit afraid that the chaos around jungwon and his friends would prevent you from getting any sleep later that night. 

۰ ۫  

“i’m leaving tomorrow.” his words leave a hollow feeling inside of your chest. the words made complete sense to you, however, they weren’t computing inside of your head. like it was some foreign language that he was speaking, although he didn’t stutter his words were unclear and all you could do was stare back at him– lips slightly parted. 

beomgyu stares back at you, eyes lightly wavering as he waits for your answer when his mouth slightly opens but he doesn’t manage to get anything out. like he, himself, was stunned at the words that had just come out of his mouth. 

“please say something..” 

you find yourself slowly shaking her head, eyes narrowing at him in clear disbelief. “what do you want me to say beomgyu?” you scoff. beomgyu tries to reach for your hands but you quickly pull away before he could even touch you– like you were almost repulsed by him even though just moments ago you and beomgyu were sharing a tender moment together. 

“are you mad at me?” his voice was small— quiet mixed with anxiety and guilt. 

“what do you mean you’re leaving?” you manage to say as you try to fight back the tears. 

beomgyu goes on to explain that he was accepted into a music school overseas, the one he had been talking about since you were a lot younger. he hadn’t even told you that he applied, he always just talked about it, dreamt of going to a music academy– it was all just talks of his dreams. 

and suddenly it was reality and beomgyu’s dream was taking him away from you. 

“it’s only for five years– five years? gyu– beomgyu so many things can happen in five years.” absolute shock in your voice as he tries to explain with himself. 

“i know but we can talk on the phone, video call, whatever— i’ll make it work.” 

you shake your head in disagreement. what you and beomgyu had– although it wasn’t much– was something the two of you found special. it was like two people who had found each other when they didn’t know what they were looking for or that fact that the ‘what’ was actually a ‘who’. 

“how are you going to make this work when we don’t even know what to call this? whatever we have– this.. this… i don’t even know what to call it!” you were frustrated. the one person who had shown you consistency was disappearing from your life. of course, you had your brother jungwon but he had his own life to worry about and you weren’t going to burden him with your own personal issues– but beomgyu? 

the boy you had met as a toddler, your brother’s best friend, and the one person who was your comfort growing up was going to be moving away just as the two of you were finally getting somewhere in this weird relationship you two had that consisted of stolen and bashful glances, concealed hand holding under the blanket during movie night at sleepovers, and your very first kiss. 

۰ ۫  

a low humming wakes you from your slumber, eyes blinking open as you try to adjust to the light in the room, looking around as you begin to process the dream you just had. it wasn’t really a dream, more of a memory that often replayed in your head. that memory hasn’t replayed in your head for the last few years– you tried your best to forget the memory alongside the boy sewn into it, but with beomgyu’s return, the memory of your last night with him did too. 

not that you knew it was going to be your last night with him. 

when the humming gets louder, you remember that the sound was what woke you up from your sleep. you looked around the room again to find where the humming was coming from and you found your eyes landing onto the window in the room– it’s pushed open and the summer breeze is wafting into the room. 

your body follows the sound and as you poke your head through the window, you see beomgyu. he’s laying on the roof of the house, eyes glued to the stars in the sky– you didn’t even notice it was much later now. how long were you asleep exactly? 

“just gonna stare? or are you gonna join me?” he speaks up and you realize that you’ve just been staring at beomgyu and he’s already taken notice of your presence. beomgyu sits up right and moves towards you as you begin to step through the window, extending his hand towards you to carefully pull you onto the roof. 

you take the spot next to beomgyu as you both settle onto the roof, the tile rough and gritty but so was life and you’ve learned to just deal with it. 

“when did you get back? is everyone here?” 

beomgyu shakes his head, “nah. decided to head back because i was getting tired. they were all still in the water trying to drown sunoo.” and you laugh at the thought of the boys chasing sunoo around so they could carry him and throw him into the cold beachy water. “saw you sleeping so i came out here so i wouldn’t bother you.” 

you turn your head towards him and he does the same. “why didn’t you just lay on the couch or something?” beomgyu looks to the side as he thinks to himself, unsure why he chose to come out onto the roof instead of staying in the house and laying down on one of the couches downstairs. he just shrugs and you teasingly roll your eyes at him. 

“you know– it’s just like old times. when we’d sneak onto the roof late at night when won has fallen asleep so he doesn’t see us together.” you pause momentarily when beomgyu’s gaze intensifies. not in a way that intimidates you but in the way that you can see the image play in his head, like he was flipping through an album of photos inside of his head that consisted of every instance the two of you spent time on the roof. 

“i missed that…” you muttered as you turned to go back to gazing at the stars. 

beomgyu, however, still is looking at you. again, like he wanted to take in every feature that you had, looking for something new in your face that could’ve appeared in the time he was gone. your lips were just as he remembers, eyes remained soft and still reflected the stars like no other, but your face had new lines on them– specifically around your mouth. 

his lips quirk slightly at the idea of your smile lines appearing, a sense of comfort builds inside of him knowing that while he was gone, you were still smiling and still laughing. still enjoying life and wasn’t letting your last night with him cause you too much distress– although he knows it did and couldn’t feel any more guilty over the sorrow he may’ve caused you. 

not to mention, your recent breakup that he learned about from jungwon who spent 2 hours on discord bad mouthing your ex, even going as far as asking soobin to hit him with the van. they all had to talk jungwon down from doing something he might regret to your ex but don’t be fooled, beomgyu was just as angry. 

so angry that while he was away, all he wanted was for you to be happy and although he knew you weren’t happy when he left– he’d hoped you found happiness elsewhere, but that ex of yours just had to break your heart in all of the places where his departure in your life left cracks. 

all he could do now was hope he could piece it back together. 

“can you stop staring at me?” you pout and beomgyu laughs, acting like he was just caught in the act but he wasn’t trying to be subtle at all. he hasn’t seen you in five years and he wanted nothing more than to take in every part of you, afraid that you’d leave the way he did all those years ago. beomgyu knows that fear of his is irrational considering he was the one who left you– but he couldn’t help but feel like now that he was back, you were slipping away. 

“do you hate me?” he asks, sitting up and looking down at you as you stare at the stars. 

you don’t answer right away, choosing to count how many stars you could find in the night sky. 

thirty six. 

after you finish counting the stars, you pull yourself up and reach back into the room through the window and beomgyu furrows his eyebrows at you, trying to understand what you were doing. you come back out with jungwon’s weed box and you set it in between your legs as you begin to light up a joint. “what? this conversation is probably gonna get heavy— might as well be high for it.” and beomgyu can’t help but agree. 

you stick the rolled up paper between your lips but before you could reach for the lighter inside of the box, beomgyu reaches for it first and moves closer to you. eyes settled on your lips while you look up at him. he brings the lighter closer to your lips, clicking it a few times before a flame ignites between the two of you as he lights the joint nestled in your mouth. 

a bright ember spreading across the tip of the joint as you take a slow and deep inhale. 

beomgyu smiles as he watches you, nodding as you exhale while, face just a few inches from yours; so close you could feel his breath on your skin as he waits for his turn to hit the joint. your eyes haven’t left his and you can see that his gaze hasn’t wavered from their position of looking at your lips. 

beomgyu swallows as he licks his lips and just before he speaks, you pull the joint from your lips and move it towards him as a way to break the tension. he laughs at your actions, like you were attempting to edge him and keep him on his toes. he knows you could feel the fire between the both of you but for now, the joint passing between the two of you would suffice. 

“i don’t hate you…” you pause. 

beomgyu places the joint between his lips and takes in a slow breath, “although, i wish i did.” and it makes him cough up a storm and you can’t help but laugh at him. 

“you never could hold the smoke very well.” 

“come on, that’s not fair. you just said you wished you hated me.” 

you shrug at him, thinking about the truth behind your words. you did wish you hated him, you had confessed to him that you liked him and had liked him for a while and to your surprise, he told you that he feels the same way. he had pulled you in for your very first kiss, not only with each other, but your first kiss with anyone. 

the moment was straight out of a romance movie, it was night time and the two of you were sitting on the rooftop outside of your bedroom window similar to how you were now. the night sky was filled with stars and caramel by sleep token was playing quietly from inside of your room– jungwon long asleep so neither of you were worried about getting caught. 

and then, he kissed you so sweetly as the lyrics

So stick to me Stick to me like caramel Walk beside me till you feel nothin' as well I'm fallin' free of the final parallel The sweetest dreams are bitter But there's no one left to tell

sung throughout the night. 

which was ironic in a lot of cases because although the moment was like a dream that was as sweet as caramel and you wanted nothing more than to stick close to beomgyu, the very same dream turned bitter as reality soon settled when beomgyu told you that he’d be leaving and you had no one to tell of the heartbreak you had to go through alone as beomgyu flew thousands of miles away from you. 

“i tried to hate you. i was so angry and alone, i wanted to hate you so bad, but i just couldn’t. you held such a special place in my heart— still do– and no matter how many times i’d look at your photos or would hear you screaming through jungwon’s headphones i’d roll my eyes and scoff, i just couldn’t bring myself to hate you.” 

you sniffled, taking the joint back from him that was still burning and taking a puff before continuing. smoke pouring out of your lips as you offer the joint back to beomgyu. “i looked for you in everything after that day. in the music you introduced me to, in the way won and the rest of your friends would laugh— hell even in my ex. 

probably why it didn’t work out and he felt like i was dragging him down. i wasn’t necessarily ready to be in a relationship and being in one only made me feel like i was filling that void with something meaningless because… 

because i truly couldn’t find meaning in anything without you there.” 

the joint was now reduced to the butt, just a small and shriveled up clump of paper. “god, i’m high as shit and sobbing about a relationship that didn’t even happen– you probably think i’m pathetic.” you say, wiping the tears off of your face but beomgyu was quick to reassure you that he didn’t think any less of you, if anything he liked you even more. 

“i never stopped thinking about you.” you raise your head when those words leave his lips, tears continuing to pool in your eyes. “i even cried on the flight after leaving. you don’t understand how hard that was for me and it ate me up inside to know that i just left you like that. 

i felt so selfish for wanting to go to this damn school so bad that i didn’t realize i’d be leaving so much behind… you. 

i thought about you everyday, i’d refresh your instagram in hopes you would post a new photo and then one day that picture with your ex appeared and i thought i had lost my chance. that you had moved on and i lost you to someone else… but i was just happy to see that you were happy— although now i know you weren’t.” 

“yeah. that guy was kind of an asshole.” you and beomgyu share a laugh at your comment and find yourselves sitting in silence once again, only this time it’s a comfortable silence. there was no longer this tension between the two of you where it felt like silence was fragile and if speaking what was on your mind could cause it to shatter. 

no, this tension was filled with passion, an irresistible magnet faced towards each other that feels so close but not just quite. 

“this might be a long shot but… do you wanna give this a try?” beomgyu asks and you swallow the dryness in your throat, smoke having coated the inside of your mouth; now wishing you had brought some water with you before starting to smoke. 

“should we? do you want to..?” you ask, looking up at beomgyu through your lashes and for a second the face of the boy you had fallen in love flashes across the face of the boy you were staring at now. still the same, still a bit strange but still the same boy you fell in love with. “i want to give it a try more than anything, but i’m determined to make it work. long as you’re happy.” 

you smile at him and beomgyu smiles back because as you saw the boy he once was, he saw the girl that you are when you smiled at him and it warmed his heart to see you smile like that. 

“you think won is gonna be upset we smoked his weed?” beomgyu asks and you purse your lips at the thought but shrug it off, telling beomgyu that you were older anyways and jungwon wouldn’t even have this weed if you hadn’t linked him with your plug. “you really turned all of us into stoners, huh? we weren’t even old enough to smoke yet when we shared our first joint.” beomgyu adds as you both recall that night. 

it was your first time smoking ever and of course, beomgyu was there. jungwon was too scared to smoke but beomgyu knew better than to leave you to do it alone. the experience wasn’t bad in the slightest and you found yourselves getting high off just one joint, your inexperienced bodies finding tolerance against the weed but eventually failing. 

“you know— when i was away and i’d try to find weed amongst my classmates, someone brought up this little kid from indonesia who used to smoke a shit ton.” beomgyu randomly mentions and you look at him with a confused expression, thinking about how it was definitely the weed talking. 

“no– listen. okay, so in indonesia, there was this kid who would smoke like 40 cigarettes a day, crazy i know, but he lives a healthy and normal life now so i guess everything is good. i guess i’m only bringing this up because like… it’s like us. 

we were in a kind of weird spot, not as weird as a toddler chain smoking but weird enough that we couldn’t even give what we had a title but now, little by little, we’re getting to a place that’s a lot better. something normal and healthy– the best part being that we have each other.” 

beomgyu speaks earnestly and from the heart, his words–although a bit strange– was meaningful and he meant every single thing even if it came off as weird but you understood every single bit of it and it only made you grow more fond of him. 

“you’re high as fuck, huh?” 

and a wide sheepish smile spreads onto his face as he nods. 

in the time that you and beomgyu spoke and cleared the air between you two, he found himself inching closer and closer to you, so close that his hands found themselves resting over yours. “can i–” he says, stopping halfway through to clear his throat. 

“can i kiss you?” and you nod as your eyes fall onto the curve of his lips. 

beomgyu inches even closer, lips merely centimeters away, “we’re baaack!” jungwon screams loudly from inside the room like he was trying to make it very evident that he was present in the slight chance you and beomgyu were doing something he didn’t want to see– although he already knew this was going to happen since beomgyu asked him for advice on the matter. 

jungwon pokes his out through the window and he sees you and beomgyu pull away from each other and try to act nonchalant as if you weren’t about to just kiss one another. 

“bro! is that my weed?” he asks with a pout and you tell him not to be a baby about it and that you’d just buy him some more when you went home. jungwon tells you that the guys all planned to get drunk and watch some movies for the rest of the night, inviting you and beomgyu to join when you finish with your “love fest” followed by fake gagging noises. 

“by the way, i don’t care if you guys date… just don’t try to do anything while im in the room, i will burn this whole house down.” he threatens and you roll your eyes at your brother while beomgyu teases jungwon, “hey, i respect you too much as my best friend to do that… we’ll make sure to do it before you get in the room.” and jungwon fake gags even more as you playfully shove beomgyu with your elbow. 

“whatever, come join us downstairs when you two are done being nasty. bring my weed too!” he says as he retreats back into the house. 

you and beomgyu laugh at your brother’s silliness and can’t help but think he’s very serious about burning the house down if you two were to ever try to do anything with him in the room. “should we go join them?” you ask, beginning to pack up the weed into the box but beomgyu grabs your wrist, stopping you midtask. 

“i’m serious by the way. i really want this to work and i’m going to do everything i can to make it work.” beomgyu says and you smile once again, the very same smile that you had when you first met beomgyu, the same smile whenever he’d crack a joke and you’d try to not laugh too hard, the same smile when he called you pretty, and the very same smile when he kissed you for the very first time. 

beomgyu, the boy from your past who found his way back into your life, reminding you of all of the good things you two had shared and would soon experience again as if it was just like old times. 

dedicated to @heejamas and @xylatox ♡

ᡣ•.•𐭩♡ @pagemiah @jiiyen @jnysaln @xh01bri @rairaiblog @laurradoesloveu @manaah02 @zorange13 @firstclassjaylee @kristynaaah @17ericas @heeseung64 @leipforggy @s1rawb3rry @ddeonuswife @orxngebloods @xylatox @saccharinezennie @izzyy-stuff @yooonjnng

copyright 2025 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned. if you enjoyed reading this please consider reblogging and following <3

[the-red-butterfly]

The heart smoke😭💜

Also do manga panels count? cause for your consideration

Okay bye have fun :)

Yeah, sure, I'll take a manga panel. But more importantly. HOLY FUCK??? WHY IS SANJI SO PRETY IN THAT MANGA PANEL??? WHAT'S GOING ON???

Thank you for the suggestions!! Much appreciated <3

[alaskan-wallflower]

i think people forget that the gang is made up of hoodlum teenage guys living in poverty in the 60’s-let them be dirty and gross. like even soda and johnny, who pony paints in SUCH a positive light get up to their own amounts of trouble. soda literally got arrested for doing aerobatics with two bit and “disturbing the peace”—even he gets into trouble. darry too, like i don’t think darry would even attempt to do anything illegal now but like…he was hanging out with two-bit in high school, he’s probably stolen or driven recklessly too, and even now he still likes to get his knees scraped and his hands dirty. let them be dirty and gross and do illegal things.

[delabor]

Samael never had anyone request to keep helmet on before. But by the time he knocked on a front door it was usually already off. Ten minutes early was norm; if anyone would be waiting: it was him. This was an anomaly for more than one reason. Wasn't total loss; where obligation would be to configure appropriate expressions; reply; respond ; no longer that expectation. Andrew should make sure it was worth it; his bio said he was busy. Clearly valued his time. Samael could respect that. But did he need to say it.

Claim gets: silence. As does apology. Whether it seems oppressive; judgmental isn't a concern. The other choice wouldn't make it worth the time; hence anonymity. An answer as far as he was concerned is much the same.

Flips open vents on helmet as they walk into elevator; leans against opposite wall; hands rests on decorative railing. Own gaze steady; not that one would notice: other than how visor is trained. Cataloguing hair fall; shoulders; chest; matching with picture he'd been sent; knowing what lay beneath soft cling of worn cotton. Seems they both dressed in reflections: Andrew in touchable material; emphasizing potential of intimacy. Pajamas were private clothes; comfortable. He'd dressed himself more hookup casual: faded black denim; grey t-shirt; fitted in name brand manner. Simple moto jacket; black; utilitarian. Felt like an adder presented with bunny rabbit; both eyeing each other in the small space. Andrew glances at ceiling & he's observing throat; head tipped to side. Anticipation thickens what had been half hard since getting on bike back in parking garage; but doesn't move to hide it. If noticed he lets him look his fill.

" ; sexy huh?" Drawl; as ping sounds elevator doors. To Andrew's benefit: for may have crowded against wall; teased that he might have sent it anyway if he'd asked again. He'd shown body; been sent body on top of face & he was hosting. Would've been fair. But he hadn't pressed; so missed out. Wasn't going to give up an advantage if he'd been given one.

Had any doubts still lingered about whether a threat loomed ; they were extinguished by something simple: Andrew leaving his keys by the door. Samael even took a second to take them in; swinging innocent on hook before entering. When he'd first observed people's homes for the first time; it seemed ; fake. Overly fake; like production set. Why do you have so much stuff? Where did it all come from ? ? Own living spaces: always orderly; neat ; & mostly barren. There was a stint of a couple years where he'd started to have things; small keepsakes; a trinket or two. A framed picture. But that time had been brief; he hadn't picked up the pieces.

If this were another time; another sort of meeting he would pay more attention to décor: careful wanders; hands respectfully kept away; like walking through museum. But other than quick; sweeping glance he pays little mind. Here for other things; more interested in bare arms; ink; uncertain look in eyes. Gloves shoved into pocket; zipper unfastened in a slow motion; shrugged off & set over the back of a nearby chair. With hands free he can step close; draw Andrew in by waist. "So you like the helmet. Anything else you might want me to know?"

One hand lifts; touching cheek ; felt like he'd imagined; thumb running across jaw; chin; grazing edge of lower lip before pressing into soft spot under jaw. Firm; but gentle enough to allow speech. If pressed harder it would only force mouth closed. "Why don't you start with how long you've been hard for me?" It was poking him.

"I chose it to make sure it was worth my time," Andrew remarks back, an uncharacteristic confidence slipping from within him without much thought. He didn't mean it- and so he hushes an apology under his breath before they reach the elevator. Floor number is locked in and his arms cross over chest, eyes rest to floor as his back rests to wall. Clear throat, eyes wander over his body in brighter light- warmer light.

More detail to him, the way jacket rests to body, gloves on hands, denim to thighs which only become more noticeable. Hands drop back into pockets and he looks to ceiling. Touch to himself through fabric in hopes to not appear too eager.

"You wanna take it off, you can take it off." a truthful offer. "Just thought it was sexy. But what do I know? Take it off."

No more than a minute later, the door opens to the third floor hallways and Andrew's stepping out from elevator, leaving him behind to follow. It seemed they had reached an agreement that Andrew would take a back seat on dominance, but it's difficult when he's so use to having to fill that role. He's trying, however. Try as he might to act nonchalant, and try as he might to act like the submissive man he advertised himself to be.

Door is unlocked, keys are hung on hook and the lights are flipped on. Warmth is the best word to describe the scene, warmth, intrigue, personal. Action figures, art, DVD's- outdated, but collection worth. And most importantly, straightened up.

He removes his flannel then, leaving him bare armed in muscle shirt, body exposed through thin fabric. Tattoos and all curving over stomach, arm, shoulder, neck. More exposed than he had been in the photo, and simultaneously more clothed. An odd place to be.

NOW... how does one transition from greeting to what they're both there for in the first place?

[opens-up-4-nobody]

Guy whose fave character is jiraiya: Jiraiya is the father figure iruka never was

Me, giving aggressive thumbs down: HOW???? WHAT???? WHAT THE FUCK R U TALKING ABOUT?????? JIRAIYA IS THE FUCKING WORST!!!!

Him: Cite your evidence!

Me: WHERE THE FUCK DO I BEGIN???

[shortqueershakespeare]

wow so the last like 5 and a half years have been full so such huge life changes and when i think about it a lot of stuff is buried in grief but i just read through some conversations with a friend who was such a lifeline for me during that time and i feel so so lucky that even through some of the worst experiences of my life i've been lucky enough to be surrounded by such kind and caring people

[rampant-testiculitis]

i knew it was about me to some degree

[nanamiskentos]

SPORTS CAR ✤ jujutsu kaisen

SYN. ➤ Zero decorum, max horsepower, full send. They don't just want the checkered flag, they want you wrecked and beggin'. This grid certainly doesn't play fair!

𝐉𝐉𝐊 ➤ Getō, Gojō, Tōji, Chōsō, Sukuna, Kashimo, Yuki, Shoko

cw ─ MDNI. afab!reader, FORMULA 1 AU, semi-publíc, praise, cockpit séx (highly inaccurate), possessive séx, chóking, spánking, reader is called 'bunny' in kashimo's, rough hándling, dírty talk, créampié, óral (f), mirror séx, backshóts, under the table, voice kínk, fíngeríng, overstím, squírting, medical pláy, tríbbing, strípping, cervíx kissing

wc. 8k

呪術廻戦 NOTE ( author says ) i've watched every sports car x f1 edit on tiktok i think. any likeness or resemblance to real f1 drivers is only a coincidence, nor is this reflective of the real profession 😭 didn't write this with particular racers or teams in mind.

☁︎ GOJŌ SATORU ➤ p1 & panting

". . he did it in tokyo, he did in kyoto, satoru gojo wins again, folks! that's his fifth prix win this season! absolutely unbelievable, my god."

the engine's still ticking down, the comms are crackling. you can barely register the deafening cheers before you're being yanked forward, senses overtaken by the scent of peppery armani.

"satoru –, wait," you're gasping, half-tripping into the cockpit as the pit crew's radio voice filters in.

"gojo, repeat, are you still in the car? you need to –"

but the headset cuts off with a click as he tears it from your ears, tossing it somewhere that you can't see. his crimson race gloves have been pulled off, but gojo's skin is still searing hot, slick with sweat and speed. pink lips parted, panting, not just from exhaustion, but from the look he's giving you.

"you're lucky i didn't pull you in mid-lap," gojo grins, and you fight the urge to tell him how impossible that would be, as his sharp white canines peek out from underneath his wolfish grin, flushed with victory, "baby, did you see that finish?"

you know the rational option here would be protesting, knowing that the team is probably workin' themselves up into a flurry in the garage, but it's hard not to feel light-headed and so damn hungry when gojo's gripping your waist, and dragging you just in front of the console, right up against the curve of the cramped cabin. thank god, the team opted for a mildly roomier cockpit this year, or else. . .

his helmet's off, snow-white hair a mess, and his jewel-blue eyes are electric, "i've got 'bout five minutes before they notice i'm not doing interviews." gojo's already pawing at your thighs, fingers desperate to tear down the waistband of your underwear, "i want them to wonder where i am."

gojo's teasing hands slips between your thighs, already playing with your slippery centre, and your boyfriend's leaning in, that rasp echoing against your cheek, "wanna show me how proud you are of your winner, baby?"

the car's still hot, the windows are fogging, and outside. . .the cameras are still flashing. but inside, it's just you and gojo, and the scent of burnt rubber and carbon fibre, and he's clearly not letting you go 'till you've screamed louder than the crowd.

gojo's already shoving his scarlet racing suit down to his shapely hips, movements sloppy with urgency as he settles you in his lap. long leaking cock already smearing a thin line of pre over his chiselled abdomen, "just a few minutes, sweets," he's murmuring against your throat, "we can make it work, yeah?"

you shouldn't, you really shouldn't. the entire paddock must be outside. the media, the team, the telemetry crew. . .everyone is either lookin' for him, or watching the live feed gojo's just abandoned. or they know not to look too closely, it's hard to challenge the king of the track when he's just pulled another podium win.

gojo's hands are rocking your hips back and forth, and he's determined to have as much of your slick coat his base before he truly snags his cock in. tongue laving at your jumping pulse, peppering sharp kisses against your soft flesh.

"t-toru –," you try, shaky breath catching as he continues to grind your folds against his cock, parting them to slot his thick shaft between them. teasing, and so sensitive.

"you looked soo hot standin' there," gojo murmurs, cerulean eyes lidded and starving to feel you drip arousal all over him, making a sticky mess, "lookin' so g-gorgeous, and – heh, this wet all f'me? is that it, baby? can't even think straight."

you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders as his thick, bulbous tips snags against the hood of where you're most sensitive, giving your clit that most delicious friction you'd been craving.

"yeahhh," gojo purrs, nosing along your jaw, "i saw ya', crossed the finished line and thought how l-lucky i am that you're mine."

god, you just need to breathe through it, breathe through the incredible aphrodisiac that's called gojo satoru. he's already tweaking his fingers through your sopping cunt, dragging them against your folds to reach up and pinch at your clit.

"we don't have t-time –" but your thighs are shaking, heart already jumping at how close the stimulation has you to knocking on the door of a brilliant orgasm.

"i'll make time," gojo simply says, already lining himself up. the fucker's giggling to himself, heady and drunk from his win, slowly pattering his fingers up your abdomen as though he knows just how deep he's going to be. kneading at your groin, like x marks the spot.

the stretch simply steals the words from your mouth, rendering your language into a soft mush, shaken by how delicious his cock feels in your sticky, gummy walls. your head lolls against his broad, flushed shoulder — the creamy skin mottled strawberry-pink.

gojo's hissing, low and feral, absolutely gone as he holds you down, filling you straight to the hilt, each vein pressing and melding against your pussy.

"hahh, oh, baby," your boyfriend groans, bucking up once to test the clear water, fast and deep, like he wants to feel every tremble of your form above him, "always s-so perfect for me after a win."

the pace is brutal, desperate, made worse by how little space there is in the cockpit. your back slams into the dash, but it's softened by his large hand splayed across the skin. legs hooked haphazardly over his carved waist, bodies tangled in both victory and vice.

plap! plap! smack!

"ya' feel t-that," gojo pants, thrusts growing harsher, cock pressing up against that sweet spot that makes you sob, "that's what champions do, heh."

every low swirl of his shaking hips is hypnotic, and so dizzying, making a filthy mess that you know is going to puddle and seep into over his groin, soak into the curl of white hairs dusting the base of his girthy shaft.

"you gonna' cum for ya' w-winner?" gojo gasps, that priggish, love-struck grin still painted over his gorgeous features, even as his voice begins to shake, "say it, baby. tell me i'm your f-favourite."

"you, s-satoru," you half-sob, half-plead, "you're my favourite. god, it's so deep." wrecked, begging, and he groans like this is the podium he wanted all along.

your orgasm hits like white noise, blotting out the world beyond. you can barely register his stuttering hips, his sharp curses of your name, god, he loves you. his sharp breath hitches as gojo follows you over the edge.

satin-like ropes of cum shooting up to fill you up soo perfectly, and the world champion is sinking his teeth into your neck as he moans your name, low and ruined.

"i can't believe you were that horny n' hard after a race," you scold, body still trembling from the aftershocks. feeling warmth pool between your tacked groins, as your arousal mixes with him seed.

"you love it," gojo replies, not a hint of shame colouring his voice, "besides, this car's seen worse. like the time i got myself off, jus' thinking about you in spain. was only lookin' at you through the windows, that was enough."

"you did it on your own in this car, just from looking at me?"

gojo kisses your jaw, "don't shame me, i'm a sensitive man." he snickers as you smack his, holding you tighter.

outside, the pit crew must be losing their minds. but inside, gojo just won the real prize, and he's buried inside.

☁︎ GETŌ SUGURU ➤ in the devil's seat

the telemetry room is freezing, cold enough to keep everyone sharp and alert, absolutely on edge. but noting could make you more on edge than the hot seat that you're currently sitting in right now. just besides geto suguru, headseat askew, trying to not to moan when his fingers scissor through your folds again.

on the wall, the sector times update in real time, and god. . .the room is packed. screens flickering, engineers perched over the high chairs as they murmur, utterly focused on the little red dot zipping across the map.

see, you'd joined the team for simulations, not stimulations. but you're hardly one to complain, not when you know how much of an effect this has on geto. his sculpture-carved jaw is ticking, a faint flush blooming on the back of his neck that could be easily attributed to the excitement of the race.

"gojo, purple in sector two," geto's flatly leaning into the silver microphone, voice entirely level, "box this lap, copy?"

his other hand is under your waistband. two fingers, long and expert, utterly merciless, circle your slick folds deep and slow. knowing exactly how to make you tremble without a sound, thankfully, with the table in the way.

the rough pads of geto's fingertips are soaking up every beading drop of your arousal, his knuckles glossy with your release. he leans in, cool lips brushing the shell of your ear, voice low and determined, "c'mon, stay still. don't want my pretty girl embarrassing herself."

you can only nod, biting your lower lip so hard that you swear iron blooms on your tongue. but it had been hard to resist anything when geto suguru looked at you like that before quali, pulling you aside and asking you to shadow him during the race. violet eyes lidded, the faintest watercolour brush of rose plastered over his cheekbones.

and. . .your headset is still on. one wrong noise, one hasty move, and everyone will probably hear exactly how you shadow the famed geto suguru. you're sure your microphone levels are low enough so they don't pick up on the constant, sloppy squelch! of geto's middle and ring finger plunging into your dripping core.

"my clever girl," geto coos, but his eyes don't shift from watching the golden boy's onboards (gojo satoru, of course). well, aside from the temporary loss in his composure when you clench the sticky walls of your inner muscles against his fingers, his ink-dark lashes briefly fluttering wide in shock. lookin' close enough to spill a thick load in his slacks.

your body must be shaking now, your thighs trembling with the herculean exertion that geto's pulling from you. every new lap, every clean turn from gojo is matched by geto sinking his fingers deeper into you, drawing slack and curling up against that sweet, rough patch until you choke on a whimper.

a wan smile twitches his lips, almost amused. fond, even. he's caught it, he knows just how close you are to spilling over his hands. that release that he's just equally desperate to chase, geto needs you to fall apart on him.

"there it is," geto's purring, and you can barely hear the excitement his tone over the ringing in your ears, "good girl." someone's leaning over from behind, and thank god they can't see exactly what's been going on beneath the table, "suguru, sector 3 delta just spiked."

geto doesn't blink, temporarily halting the wet sloshes that he's composing between your thighs. rather, focusing some much needed attention on the swollen bundle of nerves beneath your mound, "that's expected. wind change near turn fourteen."

his thumb roughly tacks beneath the glistening hood, "you're doing so well," geto breathes against your temple, "think you've earned a reward after this. . .or a punishment, what'd you say?"

it only takes three more tender, pounding hits of his long fingers against the most sensitive spots. your eyes flutter shut, mouth pressed thinly as you're determined to not cry, nor gasp and moan. but each swipe of geto's digits against your clit undos your resolve further and further, your thighs shaking from the extra stimulation.

and when gojo wins the pole, cheers breaking through your headset, the room leaping to its feat, geto doesn't even flinch. he's slowly withdrawing his hand from your waistband. fingertips pruned, sticky and warn as he slips them into your mouth. discreet, hungry.

"clean up, gorgeous," geto gruffly whispers, his mauve eyes drawn to how your lips eagerly part around his index finger, "we should celebrate tonight."

your head must be spinning, legs numb from what geto has wrought from you, that dazzling orgasm that leaves the world awash in shades of silver and white. you can taste yourself, that bittersweet tang on his fingers, and it renders you dazed.

"thaaaat's it, beautiful," geto laughs, licking the last of your moans and release from his finger, "now you're learnin' real strategy."

☁︎ RYŌMEN SUKUNA ➤ crash into me

the door of the driver's trailer slams shut behind you, like a starting light hitting green. your back hits the wall you before you can even speak, before you can even wonder at what exactly has gotten into your fiancé now.

ryomen sukuna's warm hand is wrapped around your throat, a thumb gently soothing at the lower juncture of your jaw. his other hand is still smudged with track rubber and sticky grease, gripping your waist tight enough to deliciously bruise.

"they think i'm reckless," sukuna's voice is a hot, sharp growl in your ear, "then let's give 'em a reason to blacklist me, eh, sweetheart?"

perhaps it would be wiser to interrupt him, to warn sukuna that the media is still swarming outside, and this is the last thing the fia will tolerate from him. but russet eyes are almost. . .tender as they roam over you, his grasp on the base of your neck enough to make your brain melt and your knees forget how to hold you up.

"wanna' be my podium, girl? i should have you on your knees, don't ya' agree?" sukuna's still in his fireproofs, unzipped just enough to expose the broad, tan expanse of his chest. the inky-black tattoos crawling down his skin, some sin-streaked marks that you ache to press your lips to.

maroon eyes gleam, still utterly high off the chaos of the race, from the penalty that cost him his pole for the rest of the weekend. and you? well, you're gonna' have to be his victory lap instead.

you moan, wanton and improper, as sukuna's mouth teases down your neck, pressing to your collarbones before clawed nails tear open your blouse as though it's a paper flag, yanking you forward by a sturdy, yet thin chain. bringing you closer still, eye to eye with the racer that the world calls the king of curses.

and of course, what else would be dangling from the chain but his name? sukuna, the kanji letters encrusted with small precious stones, a gift that he had surprised you with for your most recent anniversary.

"hah, you wear this for me? cute lil' trophy like you're my number one fan, orrr my good luck charm?"

sukuna pushes you against the opposite wall, jostling the numerous trophies that already litter the shelves. you gasp, certain that pools of arousal must already be glistening between your thighs. his hand slides lower, rough and greedy, impatient as he tends to be. slipping past the lace edge of your panties to paw at your sopping folds.

he's groaning, hot and heavy, feeling just how wet you are. sukuna's almost ecstatic at the thought that his girl was walkin' around with such a. . .waterpark between her legs. primed to gush over him, to soak the base of his cock with every nasty thrust that he's daydreaming about.

"you're s-soaked, sweetheart. you're likin' this, aren'tcha?"

your head lolls as you nod, succumbing to the sweet hands of pleasure throbbing below your groan. sukuna smacks your thigh, and the force is hard enough for your eyes to flutter open, his warm hand gently running over the stung skin to soothe the flesh, "eyes on me, girl. remember what i said 'bout being my podium? ya' gotta' earn it."

there's little warning before sukuna scoops you up, lifting you bridal style, only to throw you down onto the little couch in the corner of the trailer, yanking the remainder of his race suit down with a snarl, "s-see, this is what they gotta' know. i can't do. . .slow or soft. i win, heh."

you know full well that sukuna is capable of both slow and soft, and thick, heavy strokes that dig through your cunt as he often holds you down in the most delicious mating press. but you're not eager to quite rain on his ego parade, unless, of course, it's a different sort of rain from between your legs that he can eagerly lap up.

sukuna must be leaving marks on your hips, teeth on your collarbone, handprints on your thighs. each thrust of his thick, wide cock must be some punishment for the stewards, for the world, for the fact that he didn't really get to break someone out there today.

but you, his gorgeous wife-to-be? you can take it, and sukuna has to hide the rapid flush blooming over his face, opting to nip at the back of your neck.

"we're gonna' do this 'till those fuckin' stewards retract that penalty," sukuna pants into your ear, thick cock rummaging sweet patterns right up into you as the tufts of soaked blush-pink hair are pressed right against you. imprinting the thick vein that runs along the underside of his cock in a way that has you seeing stars and gasping oh so prettily, "or 'till the walls fall in, whichever comes first."

☁︎ TŌJI FUSHIGURO ➤ wrenched wide open

it started with a wrench, and no, not a metaphorical tool. a literal wrench, dropped from your armful of gear, clanging far too loudly against the concrete in the empty garage. you're flinching, cursing under your breath. it's past dark, rain still slickin' the floor outside, and most of the team's already gone.

you shouldn't be here, you're just the rookie. you're supposed to be following orders, not fuckin' around with loose bolts and leftover adrenaline. which is exactly when you realise that you're not quite alone.

the metal shutter behind you slams down with a mechanical growl, loud and final. you whip around. . .toji fushiguro. beefy arms folded, sweat clinging to the curve of his neck. verdant eyes darker than engine oil, and just as dangerous.

he doesn't speak right away, just watches as you clench your thighs, almost sub-consciously (or so he thinks, little does he know that you know just how to rile him up).

"you always this sloppy, doll? or just when i'm watching?"

your skin is flushed, heat crawling up your spine as though it's chasing the storm outside. toji's eyes are deliciously dragging down your body, lingering on the curve of your hips, the way your soaked polo clings to your chest.

he knows exactly what you want.

toji's already moving, and he's on you in two steps, rough fingers curling around your wrist, grunting as he tugs you backwards. your spine hitting the warm sidepod of the car, the paint is still slick from rain and truck dust, and it makes you shiver.

"i rebuilt this v6 before breakfast," toji mutters, voice thick with gravel, and the promise of upcoming sin, "let's see if you can last longer than that."

one of toji's veined hands are braced beside your head, the other already on your thighs. teasing, slow as they drag up your soaked coveralls until —

"you ever been fucked like this, doll? no? good, first time for everything."

toji doesn't wait, he doesn't hesitate, for he lifts you as though you're just another part he's decided to torque into place. your legs wrap around his waist out of sheer instinct, and he's grinding deeply into you. a thick and heavy bulge pressed right up against you, his scarred lips grazing your ear, "look at ya', all squirmy for me in your pretty team gear. bet ya' touched yourself thinkin' about this, 'bout me."

hah, he's right. but you're not going to give him the express satisfaction of knowing just how many times you had straddled the edge of your bed back in the hotel, legs spread wide as you softly grazed your swollen clit with rough fingers, imagining it was toji picking you apart.

you stifle a lazy, drawn-out moan when toji finally shoves your coveralls down, when grease-stained fingers slide between your thighs with no patience, just raw want. you can see how toji's jaw slackens, maw wide at how soaked you already are.

"f-fuck," toji grins, pressing his forehead to yours, so his choppy raven bangs gently kiss your skin, "you're wetter than the goddamn track out there, doll."

his fingers are fast, expert and precision-tuned. two knuckles deep and curling just right, while toji's other hand fists in your shirt, dragging you against his muscled chest, "stay quiet f'me." and it's not a suggestion.

you try, but the noise still slip in tiny gasps and stuttering moans, caught against his shoulder as he works you open with practiced ease. your hands claw at his arms, at his rippling biceps as he preps you.

"that's it, gorgeous, let go. you gon' cum for me already?" toji grunts, thumbing at your clit with precise precision, "yeah? who knew you'd like being handled like a busted part? it's okay, girl, i got you."

you're shaking, barely biting back a whimper as he works you right through, feeling his lengthy cock already hard and pressing through his thick, rough pants.

it's an earth shattering orgasm that launches right at you, your back arched against the side of the car, his fingers still dipping through your glossy folds. toji's coaxing you right through the orgasm as if he's fine-tuning a prized engine.

and then, he's pulling right back. unzipping his pants with one hand, the other still planted firmly between your thighs, "hope ya' weren't planning on walking tomorrow, doll."

the wiry, fine hairs at the base of thick cock immediately brush up against your ass, such was the firm precision and speed of toji jackhammering himself into his new delightful home. heavy and deep, so you can feel the smack! of thick, weighted balls against your plush flesh.

the stretch burnin' in the best way possible honestly, and you're crying out, but his palm claps over your mouth immediately, emerald eyes narrowed and sleazy grin crooked, "ah, ah, gotta' be quiet. wouldn't want the interns hearin' what their favourite engineer gets up to after hours, eh?"

you just moan against his palm, and toji groans. hips slamming harder, rougher and relentless. his other hands grabs your jaw, thumb sliding down to press into your throat, not choking. jus' holding, reminding you who's in charge. for now, you blithely wonder, visions of milking toji dry already blooming in your mind.

but it's hard to not fall apart almost immediately, his thick tip swabbing at your most sensitive points. twitching, and pulsing, clenching around toji's cock in a way that makes him follow suit. thick, glossy ropes of heavy, strong cum spurting right out of him, the sheer volume so much that it leaks straight out of you, dribbling down your thighs.

toji's biting hard enough to leave marks, claiming and branding. and you would swear that you hear him whisper sweet nothings that he would sooo deny in the morning, praises about how you're the sweetest thing ever, and he's just gotta' have you.

and then, simply just because he's toji fushiguro, he grabs the nearest shop rag, wiping at the mess from your stomach and thighs without blinking. stuffing it into his pocket as though it's nothing, "gonna' head back and get myself off with this doll, see ya' at the briefing tomorrow." already zipping up, packing that monster-length cock (yeah, seriously) back into his pants.

and. . . did he just steal your panties? you stare dumbly after him, hearing his footsteps recede as your maw slackens, before you quickly pick up the pace, "hey! toji, wait up!"

☁︎ CHŌSŌ KAMO ➤ throttle control

you noticed choso kamo before he ever even spoke to you. everyone else at the pre-season shoot was all swagger and self-tanner, yelling over for each other and muggin' for the cameras like it was monaco already.

choso, though? off to the side in full black and mauve team gear, rain jacket zipped up despite the heat. headphones in, hazel eyes still as he seemed to be gunning for the most not like other girls title ever.

not shy, not awkward. just. . . still. like the calm before the thunder, the silence before the powerful storms that often rolled in with your fellow drivers. like gojo satoru or hajime kashimo, ugh.

he's often quiet, and never resistant. rookie drivers usually have some sorta' ego or walls. choso has neither. he just nods, your name falling from his pale lips in low and reverent symbols. moving aside so you can stand beside him for the sponsor shoot. no plastered, winning smile, just eyes that track you like the managers track the telemetry data.

you ignore the heat curlin' in your stomach, or you try to. and it's just soo much worse when you catch his eyes on you, watching again. and again, as though you're a famous painting with strokes that he wants to memorise and commit to preservation.

so, there's really no other move but to corner him after the barcelona press run, heart pounding like a misfiring clutch, "what?" you're teasing, "you only speak in throttle maps and finish times?"

choso says little and less, but his voice is as quiet as rainfall as he sniffs, cheeks flushed sakura-blossom pink, "i would touch you, if you would have me. and then, i wouldn't know how to stop."

yeah, you remembered that you stopped breathing after that, right when everyone was being rushed into their cars, the respective engineers snappin' in their ears.

but choso crashes out in a stormy qualifying. a rookie mistake, too fast on the apex, rear tires losing grip. he's not hurt, thank god, but the radio teams go dead, and when you tumble back to the garages, he's soaked, still in his fireproofs, fists clenched with eyes dark and hollow, as though he's miles away from here.

"choso –"

he grabs you, not harsh nor urgent. just sudden, desperate. right behind the stacked tire warmers like a man starving for you, and you only.

"don't leave, angel," choso pants, voice ragged against your neck, "not yet, need to feel something good, something. . . that isn't failure. i mean, c-can i –"

you nod once, a thick lump suddenly in your throat presenting an ironic whiplash to the low throb in your groin. it starts soft, it always does with him, and it doesn't surprise you.

choso's hands are wet, shaking, ghosting up underneath your compression top. one glove still one, the rough texture pinching your pert nipple, teasing over your chest. the other glove? he pulls off with his teeth, slow and silent as he tosses it away. touching you like every second of it is a prayer answered.

and then, finally, choso kisses you. not a peck, nor testing. devouring. slick mouth on yours as though it's the last lap, and you're the checkered flag. his tongue drags against your lips, fingers twisted into your waistband as though he's afraid you vanish from his grasp.

"y-you're the only thing that makes me lose control like this, angel," choso whispers, voice raspy and streaked with gravel, barely audible under the storm still hissing off the track. he's got you on the back of the wall now, kisses trailing lines down your throat, soft teeth scraping skin.

you can only arch for him, dizzy with the weight and want of him. knowing exactly what typa' width and length he must be packing in the pretty curve of his blue-veined cock.

his hips grind against yours, slow at first, as though he's restraining himself, but the second your mouth releases a soft whimper, "cho –, please," well. . . the switch flips, and he's gasping. mouth biting at your jaw, your collar, hands suddenly everywhere.

gripping, pinning, claiming. his glove slides under your panties like silk over fire, fingers moving in smooth n' practiced strokes that make your knees buckle.

"so w-wet already," choso murmurs, breath warm against your skin, "you like when i touch you like this, angel?"

you nod, or maybe, you cry out in pleasure. he swallows up the sound with his mouth on yours. fucking you with his fingers 'til you're shaking, overstimulated, clutching at his dark fireproofs with nails and moans, and fevered pleas of more, choso! more!

"been thinkin' about how you'd sound," choso groans, face buried in your neck, "when i make you cry." and you do, from the pressure, the stretch, the relentless way he owns every inch of you.

his other hand quickly pushes the band of his boxers down. revealing the prettiest cock that you'd ever laid eyes upon, glorious and standing tall, and already leaking. your mouth waters, salivating at the idea of laving over each purple vein.

so when he finally pushes into you, raw and thick, buried deep, your whole body arches into his. slotting like the most perfect puzzle pieces, as choso whispers your name as though it's holy.

"mine," choso breathes, fucking you slow and deep, and you feel almost heady on his scent (well, that and the wafting fuel). but he rummages his cock through you as though he's carving you right out, "mine, say it. p-please, say it, angel."

oh, and you do. over and over, 'til it's not even words anymore, just sounds, sobs, tremours between kisses and moans, and skin on skin. after, when your back is sticky with heat, and his mouth is still at your throat, choso doesn't let go, peppering his lips to your waiting mouth, "i'm sorry, didn't mean to be rough."

you have a faint vision of headlines tomorrow, tiktoks being posted blatantly circling the blooming love bites over your neck, and you just can't help but pull him in closer, looping your arms around his thick neck to meld your lips against his, "don't apologise, cho. just don't stop."

his smile is small, tired, but lovestruck. kissin' you again like he's already addicted.

☁︎ HAJIME KASHIMO ➤ disqualified for conduct

so. . . you had been warned. every other pr manager on the team had handed you his file like it was some cursed object. one crossed himself, another just whispered, "he's impossible to manage, good luck."

they were talking about hajime kashimo, the track's golden boy, of course. thunder on the track, a menace in the paddock. the gist of it was pretty simple: he wins, he grins, he fucks.

you figured it couldn't be that bad. you'd handled difficult drivers before, all of their inflated egos, tempers and tantrums, so why would you not be ready?

oh, how wrong you were.

he doesn't even try to pretend to be decent during interviews, flirting and batting his lashes through every question like the camera was his bedroom mirror. you did your best to pretend your breath didn't hitch, and your thighs didn't jump and clench with each 'good girl' bestowed upon you.

"tch', kashimo, zip up those fireproofs. you gotta' be on the big screen in ten."

teal eyes undoing you (truly, undressing you) with lightning-precise intensity, "you can zip 'em up now, bunny. and you can unzip them after podium too."

"go fuck yourself."

"oh, when you say it like that, maybe –"

yeah, that sums up the push and pull relationship between you and hajime kashimo. so it's not a vast surprise when it all pools over one hot afternoon in monza. practice is long over, and the team is distracted by data feedback and tire degradation, somethin' about slamming down the big hotshot, gojo satoru.

but of course, 'round the corner, it's just your luck. kashimo, half-naked, towel slung low, with cyan hair loose and damp over his toned, sculpted shoulders. you try not to trail your eyes past the beads of exertion that slick across his carved abdominals.

"keep looking at me like that, gorgeous," kashimo snickers, towel slipping just an inch in a way that answers the question of whether the carpet matches the drapes, "and i'll put you in my cockpit instead of the car."

you shove him, doing your best to fight the furious flush threatening to sink you to your aching knees, "seriously, that's the best you could come up with?"

"is that a yes, bunny?"

"only if you win tonight."

ah, but you should have known hajime kashimo is never all bark, no bite. he walks the talk, and there's nothin' that man craves more than a challenge, a fight to get his blood roaring.

it slips your mind entirely, that vow of yours, not even when the entire team is leaping up and down, pulling each other into tight embraces as kashimo scores pole position once more. his turquoise, jewel-tone eyes are bright, wild despite the late hour and the physical exertion of over an hour of supersonic speed.

a hand is already pulling you into the back of the motorhome, setting you right down over. . . the champagne crate.

"hah, knew i had to win out there, gorgeous. knew i had to win just for you."

it's hard to know who initiated it, but you're kissing kashimo, and he's kissing you, — pouring the taste of expensive liquor and mint into your mouth as you suck on his tongue, rake your nails through his scalp.

kashimo's whirling you around, sinking his sharp teeth into your neck, "let's do a lap, bunny. face down, ass up? i can show ya' my best handling."

yeah, what hajime kashimo lacks for in hefty girth, he makes up for in sheer length. kashimo's groaning into your ear, hissing as his cock finally sinks into the soft embrace of your glistening pussy, one hand on your hip and the other rattling hard enough against the plush of your ass to leave fingerprints.

smack!

"sound off for me, gorgeous."

smack!

"thaaaat's it, be loud. everyone should know that i'm the one who's got ya' so pretty, just folded over for me."

you're gnawing on your lower lip, tugging at the skin, desperate to not babble out mindless cries of his name, and kashimo notices. and he's no fan of that, elegant hands grabbing your hair and pulling you up so you can both face the truck's back mirror.

"look at yourself," kashimo pants, still thrusting so deep in you that you're certain each vein has been permanently memorised and printed in your guts, "look at how good ya' take me, like you were built for it."

" –jime, hajime, 'm close," you whine, eyes absolutely cross-eyed and hazy as you let yourself get lost in the sweet, sweet sensation. moaning his name broken and breathless, and it's enough to shatter the infallible kashimo.

kashimo's grunting, a thunderclap in your ear, as he tears the remainder of your underwear off with a sodden rrrrrip! whirling you around once more to hike your leg up onto the crate, swung around his waist to draw him closer inwards.

you know when he finishes inside you, as though he's chasing the fastest lap. hard, quick and deep enough to leave your legs boneless and quivering.

"gonna' make you c-cum again," kashimo groans against your ear, kissing your shoulder as he mouths at your tits, "one more. c'mon, bunny, give it to me, i earned that trophy. wanna' fuck you in my racing suit next."

☁︎ TSUKUMO YUKI ➤ manual override

you still remember your first interview with tsukumo yuki. she had flounced into the room with her black race suit peeled halfway down, sports bra damp with seat, sipping champagne from the bottle.

but you had barely finished your first question before the statuesque blonde had leaned forward, gaze hungry, "you wanna' talk about control systems, baby, or do you wanna' know how i make people lose theirs?"

you should have walked away, but instead, you watched her lick frothy champagne off her thumb like it was all you ever wanted. and you were. . . hooked. now yuki seeks you out in the paddock, every time, pressing too close, tugging you closer by your lanyard, murmuring in your ear, "lookin' a lil' stiff, doll. want me to loosen you up after quali?"

so, this time, she had just set p3 in the wet, slippery rain. helmet already peeled off, golden hair flipping over her face as she catches sight of you, recorder in hand.

"yuki, congrats on quali! do you think the wet weather gave you any –"

a quick hand snatches the mic, plucking it right off your collar and shoving it deep into her thick pockets, "baby, we got plenty of time later, hah, for an interview."

that adrenaline-high look in her big, brown eyes is all too recognisable, and you should have foreseen how she'd drag you right behind the trailer. pinning you to the hood of her personal car, no doubt worth millions, skin still searing from the race.

"come onnn, ya' like fast girls, don't you," yuki whispers, voice a low purr, her sun-streaked hair tickling and kissing your cheek. she's laying you flat across the hood, race suit still hanging half-on, grinding her hips down until you're gasping, biting your lip with whimpers of please, please. . . more!

"say it louderrr, sweetheart." her lips pressed to your navel as you whine for her to sweep her tongue even lower.

"c'mon, you interview champions, right? maybe in your interview, you can tell the press how good i fuck." a kiss now dotted over your hips, slowly following the juncture angle down to your throbbing mound.

"y-yuki," you mewl, unable to hold back the hungry, raw cry when she parts your thick, outermost folds to suckle at your clit, "ouuh, so sensitive. . ."

no mercy, no hesitation. she laps at your folds as though she's setting the fastest lap record, grinning as you're shaking, "that's my pretty girl. still breathing?"

if you wrench your head far back enough at an uncomfortable angle, you can see just how filthy the sight is. yuki's entirely on her knees now, golden hair splayed about her as she nips and licks at your dripping cunt, her chin all glossed up as she drags the lower half of her face through your wetness.

through the haze, you realise that yuki's murmuring something. groaning low into your pussy as though she's speaking to her. the biceps in her muscled arms rippling as she slathers a thick kiss to your cute, twitching clit, "three."

her short fingernails trailing through your cunt, teasing at your winking, glossy entrance, "two."

pink lips separating from your pussy with transparent, clear strands of tangy glossy, and yuki's smacking her mouth, clearly some form of pussydrunk that only you unlock within her, "one."

and bulls-eye, the scrape of her finger in a crooked, come-hither moition against that small, rough patch in your pussy makes you squeal, then groan. the sensation building up until it's just too much and you're gushing over her face. thin, liquid arcs splattering against yuki's beautiful, delighted features as she slaps at your sopping pussy.

"think they'll let me keep a strap in the trailer just so ya' can do that alll over again?"

☁︎ IEIRI SHOKO ➤ flatline me

who hadn't heard of shoko ieiri? the doctor for your team, the surgeon, gorgeous with cinnamon brown hair and dark eyes. you had gotten used to seeing her with a lighter in one hand, and your medical file in the other.

stitchin' bodies back together with blinking, and yet, she couldn't care less about your hotshot reputation. and frankly, you only wanted her even more. so when you ended up with your top off, sprawled on the infirmary table after some stupid spin-out, icing your thigh and nursing a bruised shoulder, you had tried to be charming.

"am i finally your favourite patient, doc?"

shoko only glances up from her scrawled notes, the barest twitch of amusement tugging at her glossy, peach lips. she was still striking a match, lighting a cigarette with practiced ease, her gaze settling on you like a blade to skin.

"hah, hardly," she huffs, "but you could scream the loudest, how 'bout that?" elegant fingers already coming to rest on the waistband of her blue slacks, and you can't help but gulp. resisting the urge to blow your cool or let out some obscene looney-tunes ass wolf whistle.

"strip," shoko murmurs, her tone cool, "i can't help you get better unless i can a proper look." she must be confident that no one would dare interrupt her, that none would walk in while you're urgently pulling your sports bra off your head — and she's discarding her pants elsewhere, revealing creamy, pale thighs that you're desperate to sink your teeth into.

you can feel her oak gaze on you, cataloguing every bruise, every scrape as though you were just another anatomy lesson. but you certainly don't miss how her pink tongue briefly laves over her lower lip, her eyes widening as they roam over your bare chest, focus on how you shimmy right out of your racing suit — till you're bare and naked, legs crossed one over the other .

chilled fingers finally touch your thigh, prodding the faint bruise you've acquired with sharp pressure. you're not ashamed to admit it, a moan escapes your trembling lips.

"you're sloppy, sweet thing," shoko mutters, voice as smooth as ill-fated poison that's honey to your ears, "crash dummy with a death wish."

you hiss as she slaps your thigh, just once. . .not gently. her eyes focused on how your flesh ripples under her touch.

"diagnostic," shoko adds, lips quirked faintly as your body tenses under her hungry gaze, "don't whine, 'cause i warned you." her hands are cold, and the soft pads of her fingertips pinch at your hips, pulling the tender flesh up as your thighs clench. you know that there must be some translucent slick seeping into the medical bedding beneath you.

"i don't think you've earned this," shoko concludes, finally pulling away from you, "but i'm tired of standing up." her fingers hook into the elastic band of her sleek, dark underwear, pulling the fine-woven fabric down until she can kick it off.

leaving your mouth slack in awe at the wondrous prospects you've landed with — the soft curl of dark hair between her thighs, and how shoko's pushing your hips down, climbing onto you so you can peek a flash of slippery pink as she settling over your groin. your pussy already pulsing and twitching at the mere brush of contact between the two of you.

shoko straddles you now, her lower half entirely bare as she pins you in place, cool hands running over your bare chest, your wrist, your jaw. she's still got her tight-knitted blue top clinging to your chest, the white coat thrown over her shoulders, and you're desperate to peel them off her.

"keep quiet, sweet thing," shoko orders, her voice a low hum against your throat, "or i'll have to find another way to shut you up." it's obscene, hearing the wet, sloppy slick of your folds kissing hers.

god, she moves like she's dissecting you, studying you. controlled, methodical and merciless. you're already shaking beneath her, every nerve burning, every sound you made swallowed by the pressure of her palm over your tongue. or the bitter taste of dark coffee on her tongue.

your body arches, hips twitching to desperately attach against hers, aching to feel the kiss of her clit against your own. flushed muscles quivering as whines of her name fall from your lips in a begging, pleading tone, but it doesn't seem to move shoko to helping you finish faster.

"don't be pathetic, pretty," shoko pants into your ear, her sleek dark hair falling over her face. and it's some satisfaction to know that she's just as affected, and that the low throb against your groin is her filthy release absolutely drenched over you, "i've barely even started."

everytime you felt as through your climax was in arm's reach, her touch would ice over, only to flood you with heat again, a cruel rhythm that left your head spinning.

"you look good like this, sweet thing," shoko murmurs, tilting her head as she straightens her spine, angling her hips so she can press herself to your sticky folders even more.

you whimper, and she laughs — even as your legs can't stop shaking and you feel too fucked-out in this bed of pleasure to even form a coherent thought. until all you can chase after is the fastening pace of her hips against yours, the sight of shoko dipping her fingers between your folds to sip at your arousal.

you're not even embarrassed at the utterly pornographic moans escaping your kiss-stung lips, sharp cries of shoko's name echoing through the infirmary as she soothes sharp circles over your clit, grinding her pussy against yours with your thighs intertwined.

"god, you taste so s-sweet," shoko bites off, dark eyes peering down at you, almost as though she's embarrassed that you've pulled these reactions from her.

wet cunts tacked to each other as she swipes a hand behind your back, pulling you up so she can hook her legs around your waist. jostling up n' down, over and over, and you catch the doctor's almost wolfish grin, she's guiding your hands beneath the fabric of her top, "c'mon, are you gonna' help me or not, baby?"

[kingkaisen]

୨୧ FAMILY CHAOS ୨୧

♡ — 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: one year ago, you & your husband, Satoru, adopted two of his teenage students, Yuji & Megumi. Also, your biological daughter is now five years old, and it seems that every member of the Gojo household is experiencing their fair share of troubles and keeping secrets, yourself included. What exactly is going on this week?

♡ — 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: 18+ ONLY || fluff, angst, brief description of smut, brief descriptions of violence, canonverse, fem reader, mentions of depression, skipped meals, & suicidal thoughts, pregnancy, & gojo being the best dad and husband ever!

♡ — 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: . . . 9k . . . :)

♡ — 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: this fic is part of my dad!gojo series, but reading the other parts isn’t necessary. || artwork by @/3-aem, ribbon dividers by @/cursed-carmine!

YOUR STORY — DAY ONE

Two positive pregnancy tests rested in the palm of your hand, one showing two vertical pink lines, while the other casually presented the utterly life-changing word: Pregnant.

How unsurprising.

It was only a matter of time — after all, your husband was like an animal, tossing, turning, and twisting you every possible way whenever he could get some alone time with you.

It was impossible to know which night of love-making had led to your current conundrum: Was it the night all of your kids spent their Saturday evening elsewhere? Or, perhaps, the time Satoru had you in a mating press position on a hotel bed? No, it had to have been the time he returned home from a mission amidst your solo shower, and his lack of patience led to him slipping in behind you, and furthermore, slipping into you, all the while his hand-

“Ready?”

Satoru’s voice suddenly snapped you out of your thoughts. He stepped out of the master bathroom, buttoning up his shirt as he walked. You quickly hid the pregnancy tests under your thigh while his all-knowing blue eyes weren’t on you.

“Ready for what?” You said nervously.

“Don’t tell me the same person who rambled on and on about wanting to go to the festival already forgot about it,” Satoru glanced at you briefly. He approached your dresser, grabbing his blacked-out sunglasses. “The kids are waiting. I don’t think Yuji’ll be too happy if he misses the lantern show. And you and I need to do that thing where we share a churro and kiss at the end-”

“Okay, okay, I’m almost ready.”

Despite your words, you hadn’t yet risen from your spot on the edge of the bed.

Satoru turned to face you. He frowned with concern. “You alright?”

The truth was that you weren’t ready to tell Satoru that, soon, there would be another addition to the Gojo household. Your hesitation was odd. This was something you both wanted, and yet . . .

And yet, the news, while delightful, was also worrisome, as the Gojo household was currently experiencing its fair share of troubles within the past couple of months — and you weren’t quite sure what adding a newborn baby to the mix would do.

Stressful times tended to occur when over half of the beloved household fought curses and curse users, both of which were more active during the summer season.

Satoru was occasionally away on important trips to other countries and continents. Your adopted teenagers, Megumi and Yuji, — who had been part of your family officially for a solid year now — were often injured in battle. Meanwhile, Maya, your biological daughter, was arriving closer and closer to starting elementary school.

Your little girl learning all sorts of things about math, animals, and books that were longer than ten, twenty pages was a beautiful sight to see.

She was no longer a toddler, but rather, a child now, and was learning all sorts of things such as numbers that went beyond ten, beyond twenty, and even beyond fifty. There were animals — insanely cool ones, more exciting than the cows and sheep she learned about in preschool — who lived in either the forests or the sea!

There were moments of tragedy of course, such as the day she learned that her dear parents, her beloved mom and dad, were not named Mom and Dad.

Oh, the poor girl cried and sobbed, her chubby cheeks puffy and wet with tears, all while Satoru held her and softly explained to her that he would always be her daddy, she would always address him as so, but in truth, his name was Satoru Gojo.

And your name was not simply Mom or Mommy.

What a troubling day.

But that part was fine. Everything from giggling while you or her dad marked her height by using a pencil to draw a line above her head on her doorframe, enthusiastically saying, “you’re getting so big now!” to learning to sing and dance along to classic Barbie films, to crying her eyes out when she fell down during a game of tag with her friends were all parts of getting older, and it was fine.

Her having to go days or weeks at a time without seeing her dad was not.

Having to soothe her worries and fears whenever Yuji and Megumi returned home from missions with new scars and scratches decorating their skin was not.

And, worst of all, her becoming aware of her own cursed energy and being able to see those terrifying creatures was not.

A few weeks ago, after Maya saw her very first curse across the street while going down a slide at a playground, Satoru had to sit his daughter down and explain everything to her. It was a task that broke his heart.

Afterwards, he crawled into bed with you, sighing heavily.

“She was just learning about the alphabet around what, one, two, three years ago?” Satoru exhaustedly rested his head on your lap, staring up at you with sad, blue eyes. “God, I can’t keep up. She’s growing up so fast. And now she’s seeing curses. I knew this day would come, but now her childhood will never be the same.”

You turned on the lamp on your nightstand with a light tap at the base of it. With your other hand, you gently stroked the spot between Satoru’s furrowed brows with your thumb as his long legs stretched out across your enormous bed.

“We just have to teach her not to be afraid of them. Just as we explained what curses are, we have to explain to her who she is.”

The daughter of the world’s strongest sorcerer, she was.

“I thought I was ready for this. Looking after Megumi when he was a kid, learning about his power, and trying to protect him from that sick Zenin clan . . . thought that experience would prepare me for this. I thought I was ready, but I’m not. Now we have to teach our muffin and protect her from the jujutsu society as a whole.”

“Tell me about it,” you frowned. “I get at least ten emails daily from the higher-ups, all of them wondering if she’s ready to start training. She’s five years old. I told them all to go to hell.”

Satoru laughed softly, then he yawned before he started to speak again.

“I’m sure she’ll want to become a sorcerer, but if she does, I want it to be her decision. I don’t want her to feel pressured to follow in my footsteps, get what I mean?”

Your fingertips started to mess with the strands of Satoru’s white hair.

“I think the best choice would be to work with her, make sure she understands what curses are and what she can do, but also do everything we can to give her a normal life. I don’t care if she learns a cursed technique before she learns how to multiply, but no one will take her childhood away from her.”

With that, you and Satoru sealed off the end of your conversation with a kiss, but nothing more, as about five minutes later, gentle pitter-patter could be heard from the hallway as your daughter made her way to your room and hopped into your bed, snuggling right in between you and Satoru.

After seeing her first curse, she was much too scared to sleep alone.

Dealing with Maya’s current situation had your hands full. Along with all the additional chaos surrounding your entire family, you were also busy being the multitasking mother and wife everyone needed you to be. Keeping everyone fed, healthy, and happy was quite the challenge, especially when you could do very little to keep them safe in a world possessed by such evil — and they were the ones who had to fight against it. Not to mention the horrific fact that your son was quite literally possessed by the embodiment of evil — Sukuna.

Oh! And if that wasn’t enough, Satoru’s other students, old and new, often came to you for motherly love and affection they could never experience elsewhere. Though you welcomed everyone with open arms, you were tired.

Tired, and, apparently, pregnant.

—

“Alright, everyone ready? Everyone have their coats? Anyone have to pee before we hit the road?” Satoru, who stood before the double front doors of your home, scanned his watchful eyes over the bunch.

“The festival’s only fifteen to twenty minutes away,” Megumi said.

“And I bet Yuji’ll have to pee in ten.” Satoru darted his eyes across the dark-haired boy’s casual outfit, which amounted to a short-sleeved black shirt and a pair of grey jeans. “And you’re not wearing a coat.”

Suddenly, Satoru felt a tiny tug at the back of his pants leg. Turning around, he caught sight of Maya — just when did she get behind him?

With a smile, he reached down to ruffle the young girl’s hair, noting the nervous look on her face. After her first experience with a curse, it was quite rare for the young girl to not have eyes that glistened with pure fright.

“At least this one’s being so well behaved, aren’t you, muffin?” Satoru said sweetly.

“Can you pick me up?”

“Of course, sweet girl, hang on.” Satoru raised and turned his head to where Yuji was standing. “Yuji, did you-”

He cut himself off. There was nothing except an empty space where Yuji once stood. “Where’d he go?”

“Bathroom,” you mumbled.

“Right,” Satoru gave you a quick smile — he noticed your silence today. It was nice to hear your voice at all.

Looking at his other teenage son, or, rather, his uncovered arms, Satoru said, “Megumi, go get your coat.”

“But I’m not cold.”

“You can thank our new heated floors for that, but it’s cold outside, buddy, and you had a fever a couple days ago. I don’t want this bipolar weather making you sick again.”

“Cold weather itself doesn’t make someone sick, it’s actually-”

“I’m back!” Yuji’s sudden appearance interrupted Megumi.

“Daddy, pick me up! Pick me up!” Maya whined, tugging on Satoru while her small feet impatiently tapped against the floor; the new, heated one, which was part of the renovations made to your home last month. More chaos.

“Hold on, forgot to wash my hands. Be right back,” Yuji suddenly said, and vanished as quickly as he had arrived.

Satoru didn’t sigh with annoyance, didn’t let his face reflect even the slightest hint of frustration. Instead, he continued to grin, handling the chaos just as easily as he handled curses.

“Come here, I gotcha,” Satoru lifted Maya, holding her in his arms. “Ya know, daddy’s gonna have to put you down to drive, right?”

“No!”

Maya leaned her head against his shoulder. Satoru turned to face Megumi yet again, noticed his lack of a coat yet again, and said playfully, “Megumi, put on a coat or jacket or else I’ll ground you for twelve to fifteen years, kid.”

“Fine,” the teenager rolled his eyes before walking off.

Gently, Satoru gave his daughter’s chubby cheek a little pinch — she squealed from the ticklish feeling — and he then placed his large hand over the little ear that wasn’t leaning against his shoulder before he shouted, “anyone who isn’t in the car in the next three minutes is getting left behind!”

“I would’ve been in the car if you weren’t making me grab a coat,” Megumi called back.

“You’ll thank me when you’re not dying of pneumonia,” Satoru shouted, then mumbled under his breath, “again.”

And with that, you watched as, somehow, someway, Satoru effectively managed to get a moody teenager, a hyper one, a clingy child, and you, his oddly quiet wife, to the annual Night Lights Festival.

—

The lakeside festival was a crowded, yet beautiful display of festive red and yellow decorations and lanterns that brightened the night sky. Live musicians banged on drums or strung their instruments, playing upbeat tones. A parade of dancers passed by, and lively chatter surrounded you.

Around thirty minutes into the festival, Yuji’s face was decorated with face paint, neck adorned with beads and necklaces dancers tossed at him, blush-pink hair covered by an enormous red and yellow hat, and he held a bag of popcorn in one hand and his favorite soda in the other.

Megumi, on the other hand, wasn’t a fan of the large crowd and never-ending music. He did, however, notice a person doing magic tricks with their two enormous dogs, and he stopped to watch the show. Maya, who was previously sitting on her dad’s shoulders, eagerly climbed down, eager to watch the dog show as well.

And by then, Yuji had seen something exciting and ran off. Yet again.

That left you alone with Satoru. Your smiling husband took hold of your hand. Though you gave him a smile back, it didn’t reach your eyes, and he could tell.

Guiding you away from the flow of traffic and closer towards the red bridge that stretched over the beautiful lake with lights dancing above the water — where fewer people mingled, fortunately — Satoru said, “What’s the matter, baby? You’re awfully quiet.”

“Sorry,” you shrugged, unable to look him in the eye. Not while you were telling a lie. “I was just thinking about how well you handle our chaotic family.”

“You know me. Handling chaos is just what I do. I think part of me loves it, actually, considering we’re trying to add on a new member to the family.”

His words made your heart skip a beat. The topic of pregnancy and having another child was nearly a daily discussion between you and Satoru, that was a fact, but now, when your pregnancy test came back positive and you hadn’t yet found the nerve to tell him, hearing those words struck a chord of fear within you.

“I don’t know, honey. I thought that I could handle all this. Don’t get me wrong, please don’t get me wrong, but . . . Megumi and Yuji are at that age where fighting curses is the last thing they need to worry about. Being a teenager is rough enough as it is. Megumi’s attitude is-is just . . . and Yuji stinks sometimes no matter how often he bathes. He just stinks. And seeing them and their friends covered in wounds after a mission . . . it’s just too much. I can’t help but wonder if we’re mature enough to handle it. It’s not like we’re the same age as most parents who have teenagers. Remember what happened a couple of months ago when I treated Nobara, Yuji, and Megumi to the movies and a shopping spree? Two cashiers at two different places thought I was friends with all of them. Friends!

Then there’s Megumi’s depression. I’ve been researching therapists, specifically ones I trust who work with young sorcerers, but there’s only like, two. And I doubt I could get him to talk to someone anyway. Oh, and while I was doing the laundry the other day, I found a crumpled-up piece of paper with a phone number written on it in Yuji’s pocket. I’m thinking a girl gave it to him. That means it’s time to talk to the boys about dating and everything that comes with it, right? I mean, we pretty much raised Megumi long before we adopted him, so I-I know he’s . . . educated, but what about Yuji? Do we just assume that his grandpa taught him everything he needs to know about, well, everything? What if his grandpa taught him things that we’d disagree with morally? No . . . Yuji’s a sweet kid, I doubt that.

I don’t know, I’m just so overwhelmed. Then there’s Sukuna, and what the higher-ups want to do to Yuji because of Sukuna . . . is that why we adopted him? To give him a good life before he’s executed? Or did we truly think we could find a way out of this? Because I love him more and more with every passing day and . . . and don’t even get me started on everything going on with Maya right now.

I don’t just mean the curse thing, either. My friend Jane told me that she stopped carrying her son when he turned four. Maya’s five now, and it seems like she doesn’t ever want to be put down. I have no idea if that’s normal. She’s a sweetheart, and she’s always been a bit clingy and sensitive, but there are certain things that-that she hasn’t grown out of yet and with this curse bullshit, she’s even more dependent on us than what my research says a five year old should be. I bet you being away for weeks at a time is part of it. I know I cling to you like a koala to a tree when you come back home, and part of that is because I’m always so terrified of what might happen to you while you’re away. I love you too much. The idea of something happening to you kills me, Satoru.

I thought that I was this amazing person who could take care of everyone who stepped through our door, but here I am, freaking out while we’re just trying to enjoy a nice festival. Maybe I should just-”

“Momma! Dad! There you are!” Yuji suddenly returned, this time, with a tiny tray of lantern-shaped cookies and a bag of souvenirs. “C’mon, the lantern show’s about to start!”

The excitable teenager once again started to dash away, and you started to follow, when Satoru’s large hands suddenly grabbed onto your shoulders, halting your footsteps.

“Hey, hey, wait,” he said. His fingers found your chin, turning your head in his direction. He planted a kiss that held all the gentle love he felt for you right on your lips. “I hear you, sweetheart. We’ll talk about it later, alright?”

“You say that as if we can ever have a moment of peace and quiet, but thanks for listening.” You gave him a sad smile, and he kissed you yet again.

The night ended with you and Satoru holding onto a beautiful lantern and releasing it together into the starry night sky. Watching your lantern join the countless other ones in the sky as you leaned against your husband’s chest was a temporary moment of relief from the chaos.

MEGUMI’S STORY — DAY FOUR

It happened.

The breaking point.

The final straw.

Reaching the limit — whatever it was, it happened.

Megumi told you something the day after the Night Lights Festival. Something that he now regretted as he slipped on his black hoodie.

“Megumi, let’s go!” You shouted from the foyer.

As you waited for him, your eyes darted up at Satoru, who was adjusting the hood on your head. It was a rainy, gloomy day, after all. Oh, a gloomy day it was.

“Hey, it’ll be alright. I know it. And I know you’re busy, but when you have the time, we should talk. We never finished our conversation from the other day. The one we were having at the festival,” Satoru said.

“Right, well,” you paused, hearing Megumi’s quiet footsteps approaching. “It’ll have to wait.”

“Let’s go,” you said to Megumi, all the while trying — trying — to ignore the pained look of betrayal in his eyes.

—

The car ride was a long, quiet one.

The atmosphere was tense. Odd. Heartbreaking. Therefore, you clenched the steering wheel and made the tough decision to speak to the boy in the passenger seat.

“Megumi? After your session, I was thinking we could stop by a bookstore, see what’s new in the nonfiction section. Get some black coffee, pick up some ginger chicken, whatever you want.”

“Sure.”

“And don’t worry. The first session is usually nothing more than you and the therapist getting to know each other. And the psychiatrist will mainly just ask you a bunch of questions. It’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

“Alright.”

You slowed to a stop at a red light. A sigh escaped from you.

“I know you don’t wanna go, but we’re doing this ‘cause we care about you. We’re worried about you.”

Megumi turned his gaze away from the raindrops on the car window. A therapist. A psychiatrist. A collaborative care plan.

“You think there’s something wrong with me.”

“No, not at all!” You looked at him, your eyebrows pinched. “You’ve gone through a lot, and there’s nothing wrong with needing some help. Everyone needs it at some point.”

“I haven’t gone through anything Yuji hasn’t, and I don’t see him in the car.”

You were silent for a moment. Nothing could be heard except for the raindrops splattering against the roof of the car. The traffic light changed colors.

“When will this competition end? Comparing yourself to your brother?” You paused. “You’re both very different people with very different needs, and-”

“And you think there’s something wrong with me.”

There wasn't that familiar attitude in Megumi’s voice. There was pain. But, heartbreakingly, that pain was a familiar tone as well.

You wanted to look at him, grab his shoulders, and shake some sense into him, do something. Anything. But you could only crank up your windshield wiper and make a left turn.

“You were getting better, Megumi. I saw it. But now? Now it feels like you’re moving backwards. You and I have started to bond, haven’t we? We’d spend quality time together, even if it was just the two of us washing dishes. You even called me mom once. You came to me the other night for comfort and advice, and now I-I feel like you’re just . . . slipping away and I won’t just sit back and let it happen. Please stop pulling away from us, okay? I’m here for you. Your family is here for you.”

“I told you the truth the other day, and look where it’s gotten me. You think I’m fragile. Like I’m weak and I’m gonna break. And now you’re dragging me to meet a therapist and psychiatrist. Being honest with you has only backfired, so . . . I think it’s best if I pull away.”

“What do you expect me to do when my son, my son, looks me in the eyes one night and tells me he doesn’t see the point in living anymore? Do you just-just expect me to, what, sit back and do nothing as I watch you continue to skip meals again? Stay curled up in bed? Hear from your friends over and over again that you were careless with your own life in battle?” You slowed down as you drove; you could barely see, not only because of the heavy rain, but also the tears brimming within your waterline. “This is what it means to be loved by a family, Megumi. I know you didn’t ask for this, and you can hate me and your dad all you want, but I suggest you get used to it, because I’m not giving up on you. None of us are. You understand me? Do you understand me?”

Megumi’s gaze returned to the raindrops on the window. His hands were starting to tremble — he wanted to cry. He didn’t answer you, not now, because he didn’t understand.

He thought he did once. He thought he wrapped his mind around familial love and understood that he was loved and cared for — and he still does. Part of him, the logical side, knows he’s loved and cared for, but maybe, just maybe, that was part of the problem.

He got sick easily. Got injured easily. Didn’t like very many things. Turned away from affection. Was a picky eater — it made him feel like a burden to his family, who he knew loved him and went out of his way to make him comfortable, be it you preparing ginger chicken over a bed of rice while everyone else dined on honey-garlic glazed salmon, or giving up loud family movie nights to play quiet board games with him occasionally.

But right now? It didn’t matter to him whether he understood the concept of familial love or not. He trusted you with something, and this betrayal? He couldn’t understand it.

But right now? When his spirit was crushed and he dreaded every sunrise that marked another day of living? When you parked in front of the beige office building and took him inside for his very first session?

He could understand one thing: his desire to have never been born.

YUJI’S STORY — DAY FIVE

It was warm today. The rapidly changing weather switched back and forth between hot and sunny or cold and rainy as if it couldn’t decide which of the four seasons it wanted to mimic, nevermind what season it actually was.

And, damn it all, Satoru took advantage of temporary warm weather by standing over his smoking outdoor grill, but not because he craved warmth and anything that reminded him of peaceful summer days, but because one of Yuji’s favorite foods happened to be Satoru’s grilled burgers, and Yuji was having a bad day today.

With one hand, Satoru flipped the burgers over with a spatula. They still needed quite a bit of cooking. With the other hand, he raised his blacked-out sunglasses, gazing at the back of his house.

It had been a while since he last checked on the moping boy. His other moping boy, Megumi, was fast asleep after Satoru coaxed him into eating by bringing a food tray to his room that held an apple he sliced, a basic sandwich — Megumi didn’t like too many toppings — and his new antidepressants.

A short distance away, Maya was plopped down in her sandbox, digging around with a colorful, tiny shovel.

“Muffin?” Satoru called out. When the young girl looked at him and tilted her head a bit, he asked, “Want a juice box, sweet girl?”

She eagerly hopped to her feet, took a moment to shake off as much sand as she could, singing under her breath, “shake, shake, shake, shake off the sand . . . shake, shake, shake, shake off the sand.”

Afterwards, Maya and Satoru stepped through the back door. Once he sat the young girl down at the nook table in the corner of the gourmet kitchen, gave her a juice box and told her to stay put — only after putting his lips on the skin of her arm and blowing a raspberry to make her giggle, of course — he then headed upstairs to go check on Yuji.

—

“I wanna kill that annoying punk you call your father first.”

It was Sukuna’s rotten voice. Yuji was digging through the drawer of clothes in his spacious bedroom when the king of curses manifested himself on the side of Yuji’s face.

“Shut up,” Yuji mumbled.

“Who would be fun to kill next? Let me think . . . that pretty mother of yours? Your little sister? That little girl’s becoming sensitive to cursed energy now, right? Does your family know she won’t come near you anymore, ‘cause she can sense me? The evil inside of you? We made her cry and run away the other day. Remember that?”

“Shut up. Just shut up already.”

“You think these people really trust you as a vessel to keep me in check, huh? I bet they’re hoping you die and take me with you-”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up-”

“How do you think it’d feel, brat? Your own body being used to kill the useless humans you call your family? Your face being the last face they see as they die a slow, painful death?”

“Shut the hell up!”

He was shouting — he didn’t realize it, not until the silence that ringed afterward made him realize just how loud he had been.

Yuji heard two knocks at his door. When he failed to respond, whoever seeked entry twisted the knob and opened it.

“Yuji?”

“Sorry, I’m fine.” Yuji glanced at Satoru standing in his doorway. With a bundle of clothes in his hand, Yuji paused, watching his dad glance over the top of his sunglasses, his all-seeing eyes scanning Yuji from top to bottom. “Stop it.”

“He’s bothering you again, huh? Wanna talk about it?” Satoru stepped into his bedroom.

Yuji shook his head, mumbling an inaudible, “no.” He tossed the clothes in his hands on his bed — they fell with a soft plop — and suddenly, the tears started to fall.

He couldn’t help it by then. The teenager found himself turning around and wrapping his arms around Satoru, who didn’t waste a second before hugging him back.

“It’s okay, kid. It’s okay,” Satoru said soothingly, rubbing his back.

“Most days, I can ignore him pretty easily and not let his words get to me, but . . .”

“But ever since he scared Maya, you can’t help but listen to him.”

Yuji gasped.

It was the secret he had been keeping since it happened.

“You knew about it?” Yuji pulled away from Satoru, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Not ‘til now. I was listening at the door,” Satoru said.

“You say he scared Maya, but don’t you mean me? It’s ‘cause of Sukuna, yeah, but it's not like he was taking over my body when she got scared. It was just . . . me. It’s his fault, but it’s still me. Does that make any sense?” Yuji looked down at the floor. “Megumi’s always been her favorite sibling, and I get it, she’s known him her whole life and stuff, but . . . not only am I her least favorite member of the family, but now she’s downright scared of me. Do you think that means I should live on campus for a while? It’s not fair for Maya to be scared of someone in her own home. She’s your biological kid, so she comes first. I’m just the one you adopted last year-”

“And you’re just as much a member of this family as she is.” Satoru interrupted Yuji with a stern tone he wasn’t used to. “Just give it time, Yuji. Your mom and I are working on a way to get her used to . . . all this. And in the meantime, don’t let Sukuna get to you. I know that’s easier said than done, but just you wait. I’m gonna find some sorta loophole where I can kill him for good, and still keep you alive and well. I don’t care how long it takes.”

“You’re pretty optimistic.”

“Well, you’re my boy, Yuji. I’ll be damned if you don’t become old and gray someday.”

Yuji gave Satoru another hug, but this time, instead of tears, it was with a soft smile. Though his heart hadn’t fully accepted Satoru’s words, nor had his mind accepted that he had a right to stay home, he couldn’t help but giggle when his dad called him that affectionate term.

“Damn right I’m your boy!” Yuji exclaimed.

“Hey, watch your mouth.”

“Sorry. Can we play baseball together soon?”

MAYA’S STORY — DAY SIX

It was somewhere between noon and evening, the big house a warming shade of yellow and orange from the setting sun peeking in through the open windows, and Maya crept down the hallways with her doll clenched tightly against her chest.

Sneaking around her home wasn’t fun — not nearly as fun as the show the The Backyardigans made sneaking seem to be in the episode she watched with dad last week. Secret agents, they were.

She tried singing the little Secret Agent song in her head, tried to pretend that she was on some fun, grand adventure, but in truth, she was scared.

She was coming out of her bedroom when she heard footsteps in the hallway, and she felt it. That . . . that energy. That spirit.

Everyone in her family had that same energy, she could feel it, but unlike her dad or Megumi, this energy wasn’t friendly. It was as scary as the big monsters she swore lived under her bed when she was younger — and though dad held her tight and told her he kicked all the monsters out and scared them away, that wasn’t true. Because sometimes, she still saw monsters! Like the one she saw at the park the other day! And she swore — she swore — her big brother was one of them. He was the one with the unfriendly energy.

A little while ago, she ran up to Yuji, eager to share her grapes with him, and that was the first time she felt it. She ran away crying, shrieking away from him when he tried to follow her and ask her what was wrong. Ever since then, she would only go near him if others were around. It broke her little heart. She loved Yuji! So why, just why, did he have to turn out to be one of those scary monsters?

Maya peeked her head around the corner of her door frame and saw Yuji, who was opening a hallway closet.

“Umbrella, umbrella, umbrella. Where is it?” He mumbled to himself in a bored tone, searching the shelves for, apparently, an umbrella.

Why was he here right now, of all places? He wouldn’t move either, which meant . . . she would have to walk past him to reach the bathroom.

She wanted to cry. Where was Dad? He’d hold her, and together, they could make it past that scary monster.

Maya turned in the opposite direction of the bathroom, dashing away as quickly and quietly as she could, not wanting to draw his attention. Her heart was pounding. She then made a quick turn into what was the upstairs gameroom, and there you were! You were fluffing one of the pillows on the couch when you turned your head, smiling at the sight of your daughter running towards you, but your smile quickly vanished as the corners of your lips pointed downward, your brows furrowed.

“What’s wrong, honey?” You asked.

“I have to pee-pee and there’s a monster in the hallway!”

Your frown deepened in pure confusion.

You knew quite well there wasn’t a monster in the hallway, but before you could question the young girl, she was reaching up, grabbing hold of your hand with her little one — the one that wasn’t holding her doll — and she pulled you along.

There was no one in the hallway except Yuji.

You figured that, perhaps, there was some sort of weird decoration in the hallway that scared her, but when you glanced down, you saw her wide, fear-filled eyes were locked on Yuji.

“Maya, what’s the matter?” You questioned. “Mommy doesn’t understand what you’re scared of.”

You weren’t exactly whispering like Maya hoped you would, and your words caught Yuji’s attention. He turned away from the hideous ponchos in his hands, looking in your direction with a small, “hm?” when, all of a sudden, Maya dropped your hand, raising a trembling finger as she pointed at her brother.

“Monster,” she cried out.

A shocked gasp escaped your lips. You never would have expected your sweet girl to call someone such a thing, let alone her brother. “Now Maya, that is not nice. We don’t call people things that we wouldn’t want them to call us. You owe your brother an apology.”

Yuji shut the door of the hallway closet, locking eyes with his sister. Maya shrieked, dropping her doll.

“Mommy!” She grabbed, pulled, and yanked at your shirt and pants, practically trying to climb up your body and jump into your arms.

Tears fell from her eyes as she cried, “Make him go away! Make him go away!”

No parenting book had prepared you for this, whatever this was.

The terrified girl’s nails were digging into your flesh; you had no choice but to pick her up.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” you said soothingly, but the fright in your voice was crystal clear.

You gave Yuji a look of panicked confusion, one that begged for answers to the obvious question, but when you looked at him — even from the distance between you both — you could see the tears streaming down his face.

“Make him go away, mommy! Make him go away!” Maya cried.

Yuji sniffled, wiping his tears off on his sleeves before turning away.

“Wait, Yuji- Maya, it’s okay, I don’t . . .”

Suddenly, with Megumi following, Satoru was making his way up the stairs before Yuji could descend them, forcing the crying sorcerer to stay put.

Yuji tried his hardest to weave around Satoru, but Satoru gripped his shoulders.

“Aht, aht, aht, you’re not going anywhere.”

“But I’m scaring her!”

“Yuji, will you please tell me what’s going on?” You cradled your sobbing daughter’s head.

“Here, Megumi,” Yuji reached around Satoru, tossing Megumi two mustard-yellow ponchos he found.

Megumi caught it and started to descend the steps without another word.

Satoru frowned.

“You two mind telling me why you need ponchos when there isn’t a cloud in the sky?”

There was no answer. Megumi continued to walk down the steps, Maya continued to sob, and Yuji continued to wipe his streaming tears, his path blocked by Satoru.

“I asked you two a question. Yuji, your mother asked you a question.”

“We’re packing our bags and leaving. We can’t stay here.”

It was Megumi who stopped walking and answered.

You could handle quite a bit, but this? This was what finally made the tears fall.

When that very first sniffle interrupted the silence, your entire family turned to face you.

It was too much. Everything. Every bit of it.

With Maya in your arms — her little tantrum had dwindled to silent sobs now — you left the hallway, stepping into the closest room you could find.

Satoru was a man who could walk through Hell with a grin on his face. He was an easygoing person, one who could tolerate everything from strong curses, the attitudes of teenagers — perhaps his own occasional lack of maturity helped him out with that — but, the one thing he could not simply grin and bear?

Seeing his wife upset.

Satoru slowly turned his head between Megumi and Yuji, looking at their guilt-ridden faces. He clenched his jaw.

“You two. Living room. Now. I’m not messing around, and don’t you dare talk back to me.”

Satoru moved past Yuji, and the boy swore he could feel the anger radiating off of him like heat.

The pissed-off man watched his sons drag their feet into the living room, Megumi’s hands fidgeting with the sleeves of his black sweatshirt while Yuji had his head down, messy hair unusually flat like he was a kicked puppy, and Satoru then stepped into the room you occupied with Maya.

You were sitting on the ottoman in front of the bed. Kneeling in front of you, Satoru looked at you with all the softness he held for you in his overwhelmed heart, and he stroked your tears away with his thumb.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry.” He leaned forward and kissed your cheek. He then repeated the same act of love with Maya. “Both of my sweet girls are crying. You’re killing me.”

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled, taking a deep breath as if to soothe yourself. “It’s just been a long, long week. I don’t wanna make them feel guilty for how they feel by crying in front of them, I swear I don’t, but . . . I think hearing them say that was my final straw.”

Satoru rose to his feet. He scooped Maya out of your arms, and said, “Come to the living room. We all need to work it out.”

The living room was softly lit by two lamps. From one of the couches where Megumi and Yuji sat, Yuji wiped away one of his own tears, then gently knocked his knee against Megumi’s.

“You okay?” Yuji asked.

Megumi didn’t answer for a while, his eyes glued on the living room floor.

“No.” Megumi’s voice was soft. “Are you?”

“No.”

Megumi and Yuji gave each other a sympathetic smile. Just then, they heard the sound of footsteps descending the stairs. You came down, following Satoru — who held Maya — and you all found yourself grabbing a spot on one of the couches.

Satoru started to speak to the young girl holding on to him.

“Muffin, look at Yuji.”

Maya looked up at Satoru with precious eyes filled with uncertainty.

“Don’t be scared. It’s okay. Just look at him.”

She was hesitant, found herself clenching Satoru’s shirt even tighter, but . . . but eventually, she turned her head and looked at her older brother, who bounced his leg out of pure nervousness and old habit, his face a mess of falling — and seemingly never-ending — tears.

“You see that?” Satoru pointed. “He’s crying. Do you know why he’s crying?”

Maya looked up at her dad, shaking her head with a small pout.

“He’s crying because you’re hurting his feelings, muffin. Calling him a monster and running away from him is making him sad, so sad that he wants to run away from home, sweet girl, and none of us want that to happen.” Maya blinked at him, and Satoru continued. “Yuji isn’t like that monster you saw at the park. Your brother is actually this super-duper strong, super-duper awesome, super-duper great person who’s keeping a monster at bay, so the monster can’t hurt anyone someday. He’s a hero, one who puts himself in harm's way to try and protect other people, and he loves you very, very much. Isn’t that cool? To have a brother who’s that brave, kind, and strong?”

Maya tilted her head to the side, the gears in her brain turning, and she nodded slowly.

When you started to speak, Maya looked over at you.

“You have a family of people who fight those scary monsters you’ve seen all the time. In fact, your dad is the strongest monster-fighter in the whole world. None of them can lay a hand on him because of how strong he is. And guess what?”

“What?” Maya squeaked out.

“You’re his daughter, so that really strong monster-fighter strength has been passed on to you,” you smiled. “Nothing bad will happen to you, honey. Everyone in this family will make sure of it; me, your dad, Megumi, and Yuji, who I think could really use an apology from you right now.”

Maya, albeit hesitant, hopped off her dad’s lap. She wiped the tears off her chubby cheeks and glanced back at Satoru.

“Go on, it’s okay,” he nodded.

In a way, it was quite hilarious. The person she feared was nothing more than a sulking boy with teary, light brown eyes, and a sad frown. Kicked puppy.

Maya stood in front of her brother. She didn’t fully understand what you and her dad were trying to say, but she knew a few things for certain:

No one else seemed scared of Yuji.

Dad said Yuji wasn’t a monster; he fought monsters.

That evil energy wasn’t the only energy she felt from him, there was something else there. Something kind and warm.

She loved Yuji, and she didn’t like making him feel sad.

“I’m really, really, really sorry,” Maya mumbled.

“It’s okay, Maya Papaya,” Yuji smiled softly.

“You’re like Barbie!”

Oh, her famous compliment. Yuji’s grin widened in amused bewilderment, though he didn’t fully understand what about him could have reminded her of Barbie.

“Oh yeah? I don’t know, I think she’s way cooler than I am,” Yuji reached forward slowly in case his little sister was still hesitant to trust him, and when she didn’t back away, he ruffled her hair. Maya responded to that by stepping closer with her arms out. As Yuji happily leaned down to hug her, god, it felt as if his heart melted and was being glued back together all at once.

A moment after the hug ended, Satoru spoke up. “Muffin, why don’t you go play with dolls, hm? I know my big girl can play all by herself, right?”

“Uh huh! I can go do that!”

Everyone listened to the pitter-patter of Maya’s footsteps. Once the conclusion was drawn that she was in her room, you and Satoru glanced at the boy on the other couch who was playing with the sleeves of his black sweatshirt.

“My turn, right?” Megumi mumbled.

“You’re not in trouble. Neither one of you are. It’s just that, at the first sign of chaos, you two wanna hit the door. You both need to understand that no matter what happens, no matter what you do or how you feel, those beds upstairs are yours. We’ll work through any situation no matter what it is because you’re our children. Your dad and I will chase you down and drag you both back home if we have to, but please don’t make us have to.” You paused. “Megumi, do you truly hate the idea of getting help so much that you’d rather stop living here with us? Are you that angry with me?”

“It isn’t like that. I just feel like a . . . burden again.” He couldn’t look you in the eye. “But I’m not angry, I’m just hurt. It feels like a betrayal.”

“What did . . .” Your voice was wobbly. You used every bit of your strength to hold back your own tears. “When you told me how you were feeling, what did you think would happen? What did you want to happen? Did you think I wouldn’t do something?”

“I knew you would, I just . . . I wanted to talk to you, not a therapist.”

“Me?” You blinked.

“Well, you’re my mother, aren’t you?”

Oh.

Oh, you were certain you misheard him. Your wide eyes found Satoru’s, and your husband gave you a knowing grin.

“I heard it, baby. He said it.” Satoru said.

“I’m gonna cry again,” you wiped at the tears threatening to stream down your face; it was crystal clear during this moment who Maya got her sensitive side from. “Can I hug you? If not, that’s okay.”

Megumi looked up at you. He thought about it for a moment, then with a whisper of a smile, he said, “Yeah, sure.”

You made your way over to where he sat, and he stood up. You wrapped your arms around him, taking extra care not to hug him too long or squeeze him too tightly.

When you pulled away, you said. “I still think you should give your current treatment plan a proper try, but you can always come to me, Megumi. Always, always, always.”

After you released him, you then walked over to Yuji, your arms open, and he grinned widely, hoping to his feet to hug you.

“I owe you an apology, Yuji.”

“Huh? For what?” He pulled away, tilting his head a little.

“For neglecting your needs. You should give therapy a try as well. I didn’t think it was necessary at first, seeing as you were always smiling and laughing no matter what, but after everything you’ve been through, you need it as well. I’m sorry for not considering it sooner.”

“Oh, well . . . okay, I guess.”

“I think someone else needs therapy.”

The interjection came from Satoru. Turning around, you raised an eyebrow at him. “You mean Maya? Because a child therapist doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”

“I was talking about you, but honestly, let’s get the whole family in there,” Satoru motioned you over, and your lips fell into a little frown. “What’s that look for? Aren’t you always saying everyone needs someone to talk to at some point?”

“That’s true,” you said. You walked over to Satoru and claimed the spot next to him on the couch, and he wrapped his arms around you. “I think I could use a massage, or maybe a vacation as well.”

“I’m on it,” Satoru smiled down at you. Then, as he looked back at his teenage boys, he said, “So now, on to dating . . .”

SATORU’S STORY — DAY SIX

The conversation with your boys lasted well into the evening until the orange rays of the setting sun kissed the sky goodbye, and the bright moon appeared along with the stars.

But not every bit of chaos had been resolved just yet. There was something else, something lingering in the back of Satoru’s mind, and that was why instead of showering together before winding down for your nightly routine of soft chatter, massages, and watching an episode or two of your favorite show together, you and Satoru found yourselves strolling through the Night Lights Festival once again.

“Satoru, we’ve all had a long day. Why’d you bring me here?” You asked, looking up at the side of his face, your fingers intertwined.

“Because I wanna spend time with the person I’m in love with, obviously. You’re the love of my life, my amazing wife,” he turned his head, smiling down at you. “Look, I’m even rhyming now like a lovesick poet.”

“But why are we at the festival again? After the day we’ve had, our bed was calling my name. I was hoping we were gonna cuddle up and watch our show together, or anything that involves lying in bed . . . Please don’t make a dirty joke.”

Satoru shot you an amused grin.

He guided you towards a food vendor that smelled of heavenly sugar. After ordering one chocolate-filled churro, he turned around to face you as he waited.

“Well, you and I never get any alone time nowadays, and we really needed to talk. I figured, why not do it here? The festival only comes once a year anyway. I wanna do our little churro tradition as many times as possible.”

“Why do we need to talk? You’re not divorcing me, are you?”

“Never. You’re stuck with me in every lifetime. I really believe it, ya know. I had a dream once where we both died and-”

“Here you go. Enjoy the festival.” The friendly vendor owner unintentionally interrupted Satoru, a churro in hand.

Satoru took it with thanks. You two continued strolling until he found an outdoor bench close to the lantern-lit lake and bridge.

“What was I saying?” He asked, sitting down.

As he took the first bite of the churro before passing it to you, you said, “Listen, if this is about my rant the other day, I really don’t feel the need to continue that conversation. Talking with everyone today helped some.”

“There’s more to it.” Satoru’s tone was serious at first. The lanterns nearby illuminated his expressionless face. Strands of his white hair shifted as he nodded down at the churro in your hand. “Come on, bite the churro.”

You did so. A beat of silence passed between you both. You handed him the churro; his turn to take a bite.

“I’m waiting,” he said, taking the sweet treat.

“For?”

“For you to tell me whatever it is you need to tell me. And for you to tell me why you haven’t told me until I brought up that there’s something you need to tell me.”

You blinked at him. He was right, after all. You were keeping something from him, and of course, he’d recognize the signs of secrecy. But you wanted to hold on to the secret news of your pregnancy a little longer.

“Really? You know me better than I know myself.” You avoided looking at him as he gave you the churro. Your bite was nothing more than a hesitant nibble. “Do you honestly think I’d keep secrets from you?”

“Then why won’t you tell me you’re pregnant, baby?”

Your limbs froze. Your heart skipped a beat, and though he spoke sweetly, kindly, you were still as stiff as a statue.

“Look at me,” he softly demanded, hooking his fingers around his blindfold and pulling it down, letting it dangle around his neck.

You glanced up at him, almost feeling like a shy child getting scolded.

“I . . .” Whatever excuse you wanted to give died in your throat. “How’d you figure it out?”

“Really needa ask?”

“Your eyes.” You mumbled. Duh. Of course. Of course, you couldn’t keep something like this from the Satoru Gojo.

“I would’ve pieced it together either way, ‘cause you’re right, I do know you better than you know yourself.” Satoru smiled for a moment, but then it vanished quickly. It was his turn to take a sad bite of the churro. Those bright blue eyes glistened with a sliver of hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve been waiting.”

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t know when or how. With everything going on, I feel like everyone will freak out at the idea of adding a baby to the mix. Especially considering our boys are ready to pack their bags and run away when they spill a cup of water. I didn’t want them to feel like us having another child would mean we no longer wanted them around. Hey, we’re having more biological children, so we don’t need the adopted ones, hit the road! ya know? I read somewhere that adopted kids and teens sometimes feel like that’s what’ll happen, or they feel like they’ll always come last to the biological children. And that’s only part of the reason why me being pregnant right now isn’t a good idea. I don’t know why we thought we would be able to handle another kid at a time like this.”

“Two kids.”

“Huh?”

“We’re having twins.” Satoru leaned forward, resting his elbows on the outdoor bench. “I can pick up on things earlier than an ultrasound can. And . . .” Satoru's eyes darted down to your stomach. “Yeah. I’m looking at two individual cursed energies.”

You couldn’t help but gasp. Twins? Was he being serious? Was this real?

“Oh my god. Satoru I . . . I mean, thank goodness we have a big ass house, right?” You gave a hollow laugh. One out of pure shock. “H-How do you feel about all this? I can’t tell.”

Satoru reached down into the pocket of his black jacket. He pulled out his phone, let the brightness on the screen illuminate his face, and opened the messaging app. Your husband then handed his phone to you. What stared back at you was a messaging thread with Kento.

Satoru spammed the poor man with multiple text messages, some short, incoherent, and incomplete, some using all caps, others long and decorated with emojis, but every message expressed his pure excitement. The last thing you saw before handing his phone back to him was a selfie he sent of himself crying tears of joy.

“Not only did I cry, but I went on a two-hour run to release some built-up excitement. I think it’s safe to say I’m beyond thrilled. I just wanted to wait for you to figure it out, because I thought you were gonna be excited to tell me, and I didn’t wanna ruin the surprise, but then I realized that you knew, and I could see how stressed out you were. You were going through tea like a teaholic, didn’t finish your crepes, and the last time I gave you a massage, you were so tense, it was like I was rubbing down a rock.” You took a bite of the churro. Satoru continued speaking. “You know I’m always gonna be here for you, right? There isn’t any part of this that you’ll have to go through alone. Even when I’m away, I will always be coming right back to you. We will figure it out, baby. Every bit of it. I wish I could be the pregnant one, not you, just so I can take some stress away from you.”

“And now you’ve made it weird,” you laughed — a genuine one this time — and watched as Satoru shrugged and took a bite of the churro you handed him.

“As weird as you are,” you paused, the churro now in your hands. “I’m glad you’re in my life. Who knows? Maybe preparing for two new members of the family could be the bonding time this family needs. Not sure.”

“Look at you being optimistic, I love it.”

You took the last bite, playfully rolling your eyes at him, but your fake attitude fooled no one. You were crazy in love with that handsome man across the table.

“Okay, c’mere, time for you to kiss me. The person who takes the last bite has to give the first kiss. Don’t tell me you forgot,” Satoru said. Though he told you to come to him, he was the one who rose from his seat and made his way over to your side of the bench. He straddled the bench seat, facing your side, and placed his hands on your hips as if to coax you into facing him.

“Pretty sure you just made that up. And aren’t we, like, both supposed to take the last bite together, causing our lips to meet, then we kiss?”

“I think the two of us should only try that with pasta, honey. We did it during that pasta making class we went to. I think one of us would choke to death if we tried to do it with a chocolate-filled churro,” Satoru tugged on you a little tighter, his lips falling into a small pout. “You’re taking too long. Just kiss me already. You’re ruining the mom-”

You cut off your talkative husband with what he so eagerly wanted — a sweet kiss. Not only could you feel his soft lips against yours, but you could feel him fighting off a smile as he kissed you back with passion.

That smile fully formed once you both parted, your face inches apart. His bright eyes stared into yours in a way that made it hard for you to breathe, and he gently stroked your cheek.

“Satoru?”

“Hm?”

“I think all of this chaos has taught me that, even though it’s hard, I can handle a lot of things. But promise me that you will never stop looking at me the way you’re looking at me right now. If for any reason you stop looking at me with all of that love in your eyes, I think that’s what will finally break me. Just promise me we will never become one of those couples who fall out of love with one another but are still together out of convenience.”

“I’ve stared at you like this since the first day we met, April 8th, 2005. I thought I was the coolest guy on the planet, but around you? I was a nervous wreck who wouldn’t stop blushing and stuttering. I still look at you now the same way I did then, and I know I still will when we’re old and wrinkly, and you know it too. But I promise, if that’ll put your worried little mind at ease.” Satoru caught you by surprise with one last little peck against your lips. Then, the tall man stood and held his large hand out for you to take. “C’mon, let’s burn our fingers tossing lanterns into the sky again while trying to look like a cute couple.”

You laughed, letting your hand fall into his. You didn’t know it, but several festival goers caught glimpses of you and your husband together. They prayed to someday find a cherishable love just as precious.

♡ — What did you think? Let me know! Feedback is appreciated and encourages me to post more dad!gojo content!

♡ — @marvel-girl3 @goldenglow149 @luaqsv @sstoru @pinkfemdolly @satorusgummies @therealmrsgojo @leehriie @iminlovewqr0w @odessa-is-my-queen @melodycelos @stoneaf @dreamypirate @rac00ns-are-c00l4

[chuluoyi]

✎ a birthday to remember

- gojo satoru x reader

what is the so-called grand surprise does your husband prepare for your birthday?

genre: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—massive fluff, comfort, pregnant!reader, (cough) pregnant sex

note: hi peeps it's been ages since i last wrote gojo :') and love entries on that matter *sobs* but here it is... my birthday has passed too but here's to any of you whose birthday is near!

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

“Sensei— happy birthday!”

This year, your birthday happened to fall on a workday.

If it were up to you, you would have taken the day off. However, Satoru had been assigned to Osaka and wouldn’t be returning until weekend, so taking leave and staying at home would most likely make you feel lonely.

Not only that, with you entering the fifth month of pregnancy, you figured it was better to stay active. And by the end of the day—you didn’t regret coming in at all. The students were all so sweet, they even chimed in to get you a pretty maternity dress to wear. You couldn’t wait to tell Satoru about them tonight.

You skipped happily toward the parking lot, but right when you turned the corner, suddenly—

“Wifeeeey!”

“Oh my god!”

You let out a loud gasp and took a step back, taking in the view. A sea of colorful balloons, with a man in suit standing right in the middle of it—

Your husband. In flesh. You blinked once, twice— thrice.

“Satoru...?”

He poked his head out of the string of balloons, a beaming, million-dollar grin lit up his face at the sight of your shocked expression. “Wifeeey! Happy birthdaaaaay!”

Before you could even process his sudden appearance, he had you in a chokehold, engulfing you in a bear hug and nuzzling his face against yours with childlike enthusiasm, the faint scent of his cologne filling your senses.

“What are you doing here?!” you half-shrieked, the surprise spilling from your voice.

He pulled back, frowning dramatically. “Ehhh? You don’t want me to be back?��

“Yes—”

His eyes widened as if you’d just committed the gravest betrayal. “You big meanie!”

“No,” you quickly retracted, trying to hold back your own smile at how comically dejected he was. “I mean… aren’t you supposed to be back on Sunday?”

“Heh heh, nope! I lied~” Satoru chirped, his grin returning in full force. “It’s my wifey’s birthday—how could I not come back for you?”

In that moment, your heart fluttered. He was probably saying it for no reason, but the fact that he really did fly back from Osaka just to meet you for your birthday meant a lot to you.

His big, warm hand then gently caressed your visible baby bump, his grin widening when he got a kick. “Ah, right… Hello to you too, baby! Did I startle you too? Sorry~”

You rolled your eyes, retorting, “He is terrified.”

Satoru leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper directed at your belly. “Don’t worry, baby. Papa’s here now, and he’s got balloons. That makes everything better, right?”

“...how long have you been standing here with these balloons?”

“Hmmm, not long. About an hour, maybe?”

“You shithead—why didn’t you just come inside?”

Satoru’s gasp of mock offense made you laugh despite yourself. “And ruin the surprise? My wifey deserves the full dramatic effect!”

Being Gojo Satoru’s wife certainly came with its fair share of patience-testing episodes, and sometimes you wanted to return him to Yaga for additional lessons of discipline.

But it was candid, over-the-top acts like this that reminded you just how lucky you were to have him.

Satoru brought you to a high-end restaurant for your birthday dinner before the two of you finally returned home.

And the moment you opened the door, you were greeted by countless balloons floating on the ceiling and the ground, the fairy lights illuminating the room in a cozy glow.

You were taken aback, mesmerized by the sight. “When did you even have the time to decorate the house?”

He grinned, looking far too pleased with himself. “I have many little helpers—”

“Don't tell me it's Ichiji and Nanami? Satoru, you—!”

“I promised Nanami I wouldn’t make him blow up balloons! Though I might have heard him grumble something about being above this…”

"You're unbelievable..." You let out a resigned sigh, yet still smiling as you stepped further into the living room, now bathed in the soft, golden glow.

Satoru observed you with a quiet smile. His pretty wife, and the small life within you. He adored you the most out of everyone else in this twisted world.

Click! Click!

"Huh?" You turned to him when you heard the distinct sound of a camera shutter.

Satoru was holding his phone, an amused glint in his eyes. “Just capturing the moment, you know. You, the lights, and baby. It's perfect.”

You giggled. “You really can’t help yourself, can you?”

He shrugged, that signature grin returning. “What can I say? You’re beautiful.”

Later, you'd find out that one of the photos would be his lock screen from now on. It would be the first thing he saw every time he unlocked his phone.

Satoru brought out the box he had prepared, handing it to you with a sly grin. “Look, sweets, before we go to bed, I have one more gift for you—and you have to wear it now.”

You arched an eyebrow, curiosity piqued, as you took the box from his hands. The moment you opened it and pulled out the contents, you froze.

“—?! Satoru!”

A scarlet lingerie set. The bra features intricate lace trim along the edges, and the matching panties are equally bold, with a sheer lace overlay. Your cheeks flushed as you glanced at Satoru, who was watching you with an winning grin, clearly pleased with his choice.

“What?” he challenged. “They'll suit you, c'mon.”

“You're absolutely shameless.”

“But you love me anyway~”

You let out a defeated sigh, glancing up at him, already realizing there was no way out of this now.

“You’re lucky I’ve hit my head somewhere and married you.”

. . .

He was right. It fit you perfectly.

The moment you got out of the bathroom, Satoru could feel himself getting hard already. You looked like a vision, the deep red seemed to highlight your every curve, turning you into an effortless seductress.

And not only that, you were adorable too— fiddling with your fingers and touching your rounded belly, barely hiding how self-conscious you were.

"Don't just stare at me..." you mumbled, glaring at him.

He reached out, gently brushing his fingers against your cheek, his touch tender despite the fire in his eyes. “You’re making it hard to look away, you know.”

His hands then trailed down, skimming the sides of your body, each touch lingering just long enough to make your breath hitch. It was almost as if he was unraveling you, piece by piece, and you weren’t sure whether to pull away or pull him closer.

And wait... was it just you or were the space between your legs indeed getting hotter and wetter?

As if reading your mind, suddenly two of his fingers touched your barely clad pussy, and you gasped. That's right— there is indeed a hole in this freaking lingerie!

"Are... we...?" you swallowed, your gaze meeting his.

"Can I?" he asked back, voice husky. His crystal clear eyes burning with lust as he assessed you— from your eyes, lips, and then the inviting sight of your cleavage.

Did you want this?

Of course you were. Your birthday was still far from over, and you missed him too.

In response, you pushed his already hovering fingers inside you, making you hold your breath. From that point on, Satoru knew what you wanted.

Without another word, he rubbed soft circles around your clit, and you let out an unabashed moan at the contact, clinging to his shoulders for support. "Ahh..."

He teased you for a while, before slowly entering his fingers into your throbbing folds, and you were close to collapsing if it weren't for his secure hold over you.

"You're so, so damn naughty..." he whispered lowly in your ear. It was taking everything he had not to lose it right then and there. He wanted you to be as comfortable as possible, but the sight of your writhing face and that baby bump was damn distracting and ignited the beast inside him.

He made you pregnant already, but there was just this primal desire— wanting to mark you more...

His fingers slowly pumped in and out of you, dragging them deep but just not deep enough—

"Please..." you scratched his back unwittingly, frustrated at his shirt that got in the way. "I-I... want... you..."

How sweet. Satoru relished in your titillating breaths and chuckled, vigorously continuing his dirty ministrations.

"Say it louder," he growled in your ears. "Can't hear you."

The bastard. You yanked his hair and made him catch your teary gaze. "I... want you..."

Sinful desire flared to life at your words. "Your wish is my command, missus."

Satoru suddenly pulled out his fingers—ignoring the whine you accidentally let out for being empty all of a sudden—and admired the sheen, sticky whiteness on them.

"I barely did anything and you're this wet already," he snorted, tasting it. "They're right about the pregnancy hormones."

He placed his hand on your waist, pressing a kiss on the firm skin of your belly, before undoing his belt and trousers and pulling out his hardened member.

The sight made you actually gulp, especially when he pumped it. He pulled you to his lap and guided his pride to your sopping entrance. The moment he inserted himself, he let out a groan of relief, while you arched your back and hissed, "Ngh!"

Satoru captured your lips, his hand pressing against your aching spine. He pulled you closer, urging you to take him completely.

"Ahh— ugh... mrgh!" you sighed against his neck as soon as you did, trying to even your breath. This was something you had done so many times before, but why was this time felt like an awakening of some sorts?

"Most beautiful," he breathed in your ear wickedly. "Don't worry, leave everything to me."

He rocked his hips against yours, one hand on your back and the other gripping your thigh. With each salacious thrust, you mewled and he panted, keeping you steady all the while.

He could feel your baby bump rubbing against as his toned abs, going along with the rhythm. Satoru grinned proudly, noticing how much it had grown over the past few months. The baby must be healthy in there, huh?

The relief somehow spurred him into pick up his pace, thrusting you more deeply than before. You almost squealed.

"You know what?" he grunted, mind hazed. He didn't really realize what he was saying to you, to be honest. "You're the prettiest when you're like this— round and full, with my kid."

You only caught the lewdness in his words, but you weren't able to ponder about it as he suddenly buried his face into your supple breasts.

"Look at them, getting bigger too— these days..." He sucked on the sensitive skin and you gasped in pleasure, crying out afterwards when he fondled them with both hands.

Your senses were overly heightened and you knew you wouldn't last long. Satoru too knew he was nearing his orgasm as he tore your new bra and sucked on the mound, furthering your never-ending moans, causing your eyes to roll back as the blinding pleasure overtook you— pushing you to cum right then and there.

In the next second, he pushed you into him impossibly deeper, and his hot release gushed inside your womb. You writhed at the sudden fullness, before getting limp and collapsed into him, not even realizing that you had squirted all over his lap and dress shirt.

Your husband glanced at you, in disbelief himself at the messy scene, but utterly satisfied as his bright eyes twinkled. "Heh..."

You were awoken at three in the morning, and the first thing you noticed was that you were in Satoru's warm embrace.

His arms were wrapped around you securely, holding you close as if he were protecting you even in his sleep. You must have passed out afterwards, as all you recalled was the numbing exhaustion.

Yet you knew for certain that Satoru had cleaned you up, dressed you in your pajamas, and even placed a heat pad on your hips to soothe you.

(He remembered the one time you woke up with cramps right after a raunchy night before)

Your husband was a cheeky shit, but for you, he was willing to go extra miles. It was an overlooked fact sometimes due to how unserious he was, but each time he did and you were reminded of it, your heart always soared.

Looking up, you found his peaceful sleeping face, and not for the first time, you couldn’t help but marvel at how truly handsome he was. A soft smile tugged at your lips as you gently caressed his face.

"Hmm...?" he frowned adorably, and you almost giggled. But when he cracked his eyes open, you almost regretted it—oh yes, he is a light sleeper.

"Sweets...? Can't sleep...?" He turned to you, voice thick with sleepiness. "Anything wrong?"

"No, I'm just watching you." You smiled, poking his cheek. "Go back to sleep."

"Really? Nothing's amiss?" His hand gently slid to your belly, giving it a reassuring rub. "You have to tell me if anything’s not right..."

"Hush, I'm fine."

After making sure you were indeed fine, Satoru tightened his arms over you and pressed his eyes shut. You wrapped your arms around his back in response, feeling his steady warmth. Right in this moment, you were overwhelmed with this gentle, soft feeling— love, the kind he gave you so freely and candidly.

Your birthday had passed, but if there was one wish only he could fulfill, surely you could still ask him, right?

"Satoru..." you muttered, feeling the cool breeze of the air conditioner lulling you back to sleep. "Will you stay with me... forever?"

A smile curled on his lips at your question, his eyes still closed. "Silly girl, it's your bedtime, so why ask that?"

You thought he wouldn't answer it as he didn't say anything more. But right before you drift into deep sleep, he pressed a sweet kiss to the crown of your head, giving you his promise— one that felt truer than anything else he had said to you before.

"I will... so you must stay with me too, got it?"

[batsandbirdbrains]

Okay but I love the thought of Dick being the only Wayne kid that was never actually adopted. He was only ever a ward. As soon as he turned 18, Bruce technically had no further responsibility for him.

And perhaps that has always sort of fucked with Dick’s head. He always feels lesser than compared to the rest of his siblings. Half the time, he questions if he can even actually call them his siblings.

He and Bruce fought so much when he was a teenager, and Bruce never formally adopted him, and Dick had been living exclusively at Titans Tower for over a year by the time his 18th birthday rolled around, and the rest of the Fab Five may have had to make sure at least one of them was with him at all times for a few days around his birthday because he was so upset, because he was officially no longer Bruce’s problem, because Bruce didn’t even text him a happy birthday message, because he was mourning the loss of a second family and he had no idea what to do.

He and Bruce have since made up, and they’re on much better terms now, but the fact of the matter is that Dick is still technically not a Wayne.

And maybe none of his siblings even know about it until it’s brought up during an interview. Dick gets nervous, but no one can tell other than his siblings. He looks cool as a cucumber to the interviewer and the audience, but his siblings can all tell he’s upset. The interview ends soon after.

And now they’re all in the dining room at the manor, questioning Bruce, questioning Dick, asking them what the hell the interviewer meant by Dick not being adopted. And Bruce has to nervously admit to all his pissed off children that he never adopted Dick. That he and Dick had been on the outs when he was a teenager, and he turned 18 while living away from the manor, and he’d just never adopted him. But that didn’t mean he didn’t love Dick, because he absolutely does, and still thinks of Dick as his son, still loves him.

But that’s not good enough for the others. They refuse to let another interviewer upset their oldest brother like that again. They insist that Bruce needs to adopt Dick now. Immediately.

And now it’s Dick’s turn to get awkward, to get nervous. Because he insists it’s not necessary. He knows Bruce loves him. He doesn’t need to be adopted, he swears.

Turns out, it’s because someone already beat Bruce to adopting him.

“Deathstroke adopted you?” Tim shrieks.

“To be fair, I didn’t realize it was real until a few years ago!”

“What do you mean you didn’t realize it was real?” Jason questions.

“I thought we were just posing as father and son, I thought it was fake documentation!”

“When the hell did this happen?”

“When I was sixteen.”

“Dick,” Bruce says slowly, and Dick sinks in his seat a bit as he turns back to Bruce. “Why would you have thought Slade Wilson had fake adoption documentation for you when you were sixteen?”

Dick laughs nervously, his fingers tugging at the ends of his jacket sleeves.

“Funny story,” he says, his voice getting higher. “So he sort of kidnapped me and blackmailed me to be his apprentice for a while? When I was with the Titans?”

Bruce blinks at him, and all of his siblings are staring at him with open mouths.

“How long were you his apprentice?”

“Oh, you know,” Dick tries to laugh, waving a hand in the air to try to look nonchalant, “eight months or so? It’s such a fuzzy time, who could know for sure!”

“Eight months?” Bruce repeats slowly. “You were held captive by him for eight months, and you never told me?”

“You just said it yourself, we were on the outs!” Dick says quickly. “I didn’t wanna bug you!”

“Bug me?” Bruce looks like he’s about to start panicking. “You thought telling me you’d been kidnapped and blackmailed for nearly a year would bug me?”

“Well, you’d just replaced me,” he ignores the way Jason lets out a strangled sounding noise, “and by the time I got back you seemed so happy with your new kid and everything and I just didn’t wanna get in the way? Or like, bum you out?”

Dick’s own breaths are starting to come in too quickly, and he’s damn near hyperventilating, and he standing from his chair and making his way towards the door as if no one will notice if he moves slowly enough.

“Anyway, I was in a pretty bad place once the Titans got me back, and I probably would’ve been no fun to be around anyway. It’s all fine though! Everything’s fine! And Slade’s not even a total asshole anymore, he even actually checks in every so often. He’s a decent dad, all things considered. Speaking of which, look at the time, I think he wanted to get dinner with me and Joey and Grant, I better get going! Kay great talk good seeing you catch ya later!”

He bolts out of there so fast, Wally would be so proud. He didn’t mean to mention the dinner with the Wilsons he was headed to, but he was nervous, dammit, it just slipped out.

He’s a total wreck by the time he gets to Slade’s, and they all notice. When Dick tells them what happened, they all laugh at him.

Dick has really not had a very good day. It’s been a very bad day, actually. And now he’s stuck ignoring a million texts and calls from Bruce and his siblings.

He asks Slade if he can hide at his place for a few days. Slade easily agrees.