#🩵: writing

[yuta-nation]

Light Shower (Yuta Okkotsu)

summary: your big brother butts into your sex life, and you both get more than you bargained for.

content: dead dove (do not eat), incest/stepcest (left unclear), big bro!yuta, afab fem!reader (no pronouns but referred to as girl, sister, ect.), inexperienced!reader, oral (m -> f), protected p -> v, squirting, fingering, possessive!yuta, pillow princess!reader, mentions of alcohol but reader is not drunk.

wc: 3.8k

a/n: HEED THE CONTENT WARNINGS !! I HAVE MADE SHIT SO FUCKING CLEAR !!! anyways, i've been working on this fic for months, and i'm so happy it's finally done ! this whole thing is dedicated to @princess-okkotsu for being nasty with me and lovely to me.

You had many reasons for moving in with your older brother for your last year of undergrad. You and Yuta hadn’t lived together since he was 16 and you were 13, separated for reasons you still didn’t understand. The only time he’d visited you and your parents after he moved out had been for your high school graduation. You’d missed him a lot, but you kept in close contact online and over the phone, texting constantly and calling a few times a week with video calls sprinkled in. Despite the physical distance, your brother had become your best friend. When you told him you were planning to attend university in Tokyo, he was elated, talking about how he couldn’t wait to show you around and how excited he was to see you more often. He had kept his word, taking you all around the city during your first few weeks in Tokyo, handing you a key to his apartment, and telling you you were welcome over any time, even if he wasn’t home. He took you out to breakfast every Sunday morning and invited you over to watch movies every Wednesday evening. Your relationship thrived with the new proximity. 

Moving in with your brother would allow you to connect as siblings in a way you missed out on growing up. Yuta also lived closer to campus than you did, meaning you wouldn’t have to take the train. You liked your current roommates well enough, but they always had people over when you were studying and rarely cleaned their messes in the kitchen. Yuta was tidy and quiet. And finally, you were broke. Undergrad was expensive, the city was expensive, and grad school wouldn’t be cheap either. Yuta was willing to let you move in rent-free, declining your offer to at least pay utilities. 

 “I don’t need my baby sister’s money,” he’d said with a smile and finality that shut down any argument you tried to conjure.

You’d accepted the offer and moved in about a month ago. Living with Yuta was as easy as breathing. He was a courteous and generous roommate. He did his share of the chores and often offered to help you with your own. He brought you coffee and snacks while you studied. He carried the bags when the two of you went grocery shopping. 

And he was fun. Almost every moment the two of you spent together was full of laughter. You and Yuta cooked dinner together every night you were both home, talking and joking about your days. You weren’t sure what Yuta did for work; he’d always been vague, but you figured it had something to do with the government. But you enjoyed his stories about his coworkers and their antics. And Yuta seemed just as invested in your stories about your friends and daily life. He asked questions and remembered names and offered advice.

 The only thing you didn’t feel comfortable talking with your big brother about was your love life. Talking to Yuta about guys just felt like crossing an unspoken line. It’s not like much was going on in that aspect of your life anyway; you were too busy with school to seek out new people. Once in a while, one of your friends would set you up on a date with someone. You didn’t mind their meddling; you knew it came from a good place, and they were good judges of character. However, you had yet to hit it off with any of these match-ups. There just wasn’t that spark. So when your friend told you she’d met someone in her Econ class that would be perfect for you, you were a mix of skeptical and excited. After some persuading, you agreed to go out with Mr. Econ. 

Now you stood in the entryway, checking yourself in the mirror a final time and looking through your purse to check that you had everything. 

“Oh, are you going somewhere? I thought we were watching a movie tonight?” You turned to see your brother putting dishes in the sink.  

“Oh, Yu,  I’m so sorry. I totally forgot. I have a date tonight, so–”

“A date?” Yuta turned to face you with a raised brow, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“Yeah, my friend set me up with a guy from her class. We’re going for drinks.”

“You’re meeting a man you’ve never met for drinks? And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“Yuta, please don’t pull the big brother act. I’m an ad–”

“It’s no act. I am your brother. It’s my job to look out for you.”

“My location is on. I’ll text you when I get there and am on my way home. Deal?”

“No.”

“What do you mean no? Yuta, you can’t ju–”

“I require a hug before I let you leave,” he said simply as a boyish grin spread over his lips. You fought your own smile as you walked into his open arms. You sighed as you felt his strong arms squeeze you tight.

“Be safe. Call me if you need me to come get you, yeah?” Yuta whispered in your ear, swaying you a bit as he spoke. 

“I will, I promise,” you said as you detangled yourself from his arms. You returned your focus to the mirror, straightening your top before grabbing your keys. 

“Wait. Do you need a condom?”

“W-what?”

“A condom. Let me go grab you one–”

“No!”

“What do you mean no? You can’t–”

“No–I mean, I already have some. Yuta, never say that word again,” you said as fire burned in your cheeks and ears.

“Condom.”

“I’m leaving.”

“I love you,” he called when you opened the door.

“Love you too.”

You were back home in a little over an hour. You couldn’t hold back your sigh as you reentered the apartment and removed your shoes. You didn’t hear the TV in the living room; Yuta must’ve forgone watching the movie by himself and went to his room. You felt a pang of guilt at that. You should’ve stayed home and watched a movie with your big brother instead of going out with an idiot business major who just wanted to fuck. You walked over to Yuta’s bedroom door and knocked.

“Yu, just letting you know I’m home,” you called out. You heard shuffling on the other side of the door, opening a few seconds later to reveal your shirtless brother. His brow was furrowed in concern as he looked down at you. 

“You said you’d text when you were on your way back. It’s still early. Did something happen?”

“No, he was just an ass. I’m going to go take my make-up off. We can still watch that movie if you want.”

“What’d he do?” Yuta asked with a hardness in his voice that you’d never heard before. You turned to face him and were met with dark blue eyes boiling with fury. You were grateful to know that his rage wasn’t directed at you; the look on his face was bone-chilling. 

“Nothing, we just had different definitions of the term ‘date.’” 

“What does that mean?”

“He just wanted to fuck. I didn’t, so I left.”

“Oh, thank God. I don’t like the idea of you having sex,” he said with a relieved sigh.

“I’m a fucking adult, Yuta. I can have sex if I want to. Though lucky for you, sex sucks,” you said hotly, turning on your heel to leave. You loved him, but Yuta had a way of getting under your skin. Your retreat was halted by his hand grabbing yours. You turned to face him; a look of confusion splayed across his features again. 

“Now, what do you mean by that?”

“Yu, I really don’t want to discuss my sex life with you. I’d actually rather die.”

“Hey, you can’t just drop that tidbit and not elaborate,” he said, maintaining his firm grip on your hand. 

“Yuta…”

“I’m not going to judge you. You can tell me about anything, you know that,” Yuta said with soft eyes. He tugged lightly on your hand, guiding you into his room. He gestured for you to sit on the bed while he sat in his desk chair. You sat down, suddenly finding Yuta’s spotless bedroom floor captivating. 

“What’s so bad about sex?” he asked gently. You knew that if you looked at him, he’d be making those puppy dog eyes that always had you spilling your guts to him. 

“Me. I’m not good at it, so I don’t like it.”

“Not good?”

“I’ve never…y’know.”

“Never what?”

“I’ve never finished, okay?”

“You’ve never cum before?”

“I do when I’m by myself. I just can’t with other people for some reason. I’m fucking broken. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go die in a hole.”

“Do not be embarrassed,” Yuta said firmly as he stood and crossed the room to kneel before you. He took your chin in his hand and guided you to look him in the eye.

“You are not broken. There’s nothing wrong with you. It’s not your fault if you’ve only been with partners who don’t know how to satisfy you.” 

Something in Yuta’s reassuring tone forced the damn to break. Tears spilled from your eyes as you fought back the lump in your throat. A sob racked your body as Yuta joined you on the bed and wrapped you in his arms before he lifted you into his lap. He rubbed slow circles on your back as you cried and placed a kiss on your hair. 

After a few minutes, your tears subsided enough for you to speak.

“I’m sorry, Yuta, this isn’t your problem,”

“Don’t be sorry, sweetie. You’re hurting, and that is my problem.”

“There’s nothing you can do about it, though.”

“Who said that?”

“What?” you asked, raising your head to look at your brother. 

“I can help you.”

“How?”

“I can make you cum.” Yuta said with the same smile and finality he had when he convinced you to move in with him. 

“No, you can’t. You’re my brother, Yuta.”

“And it’s my job as your brother to take care of you. Let me help you. Let me show you how sex is supposed to be.”

“It’s not right, Yu. We can’t.”

“Just once. No one will know. I want you to know what it’s like to feel good. You deserve to feel good.”

“...Just once?”

“Yeah, only tonight.”

“I trust you, Yuta,” you said, meeting his eyes of your own accord. 

Yuta’s kiss was so gentle it almost brought tears back to your eyes. His lips slotted against yours with hesitance, like he expected that at any moment, you would bolt from his lap, out the door, and out of his life forever. But you knew you wouldn’t. You couldn’t deny how handsome your big brother was, how you adored his deep blue eyes and full lips, how enamored you were with his size, his large hands and broad shoulders. You couldn’t deny how much you wanted him right now.  You deepened the kiss, grazing your tongue over his lips, coaxing him to let you in. He opened up to you, allowing you to explore his mouth.

Yuta shifted you in his lap so that you were straddling him, large hands gripping your waist. You grinded down on him as you laced your fingers through his dark hair. You pulled gently, eliciting a soft moan from the man below you.

“Fuck, I could kiss you all night, baby.  You taste so good. But I gotta make you cum. Wanna taste you somewhere else,” Yuta whispered against your lips. You felt your core pulse at his words.

“Take this pretty dress off for me and lay down,” he ordered after giving your lips a final peck. You did as you were told, slowly unzipping your dress and letting it pool at your feet. You stepped out of the fabric and climbed back onto the bed, resting your head on the pillows. 

Yuta joined you on the bed, settling at your feet. He took hold of both of your ankles and gently pulled them apart, spreading your legs. You could see the desire burning in his eyes as they made contact with the crotch of your panties. Your face heated as you imagined the growing wet spot forming there. Before you could close your legs out of embarrassment, Yuta moved forward to brush his fingers over your clothed cunt. 

“You’ve been torturing me, baby, parading around in these cute little panties. Been haunting my dreams with them. Gonna let me take ‘em off, let me see your pretty pussy?” He asked, almost begging. You nodded your consent, and Yuta placed a kiss on your covered clit before pulling your damp panties off. He stifled a moan at the sight of strings of slick clinging to the fabric as he delicately removed the garment.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, breath fanning over your now-bared pussy. You watched as he tucked your panties in his pocket, and you felt your face warm even more at his actions. You gasped as you felt Yuta’s warm mouth wrap around your clit. He sucked gently before circling it with his tongue.

“Yuuuutaaaa,” you moaned at the unfamiliar yet extremely pleasant sensation. 

“Has anyone ever done this for you before baby?” he asked, voice thick with lust.

“N-no, no one,” you admitted, eager to feel his lips on you again.

“Good. Such a good girl, saving the first taste of this pussy for your big brother. So fucking sweet, baby,” he praised before diving back into your cunt. He lapped at your slit, collecting your slick on his tongue. You whined at the feeling and the lewd sounds his mouth on your pussy produced. His tongue moved back to your clit, swirling around it before latching his lips around it. His fingers found their way to your slit, sliding one inside as he continued to suck your clit. He moaned at the tightness of your heat around his finger. It was hard for him to believe that anyone or anything had breached your walls before this moment based on the vice grip they had around him.

He worked his finger in and out of your heat steadily as he continued to suck and lick at your clit, relishing in the sounds of your moans and whines. After a minute or so, Yuta slipped another finger inside you, smiling against your clit at the mewl you let out at the addition. 

“Shh, it’s okay, baby. I’ve gotta prep you for me, okay? Gotta get you ready so you feel good, alright?” He cooed from between your legs. You nodded in understanding, desire pooling at your core. You heard Yuta tsk from his position below you. 

“Need you to use your words, pretty girl. You gotta use your voice for me.”

“O-okay. Wanna feel good, please, don’t stop!”

“That’s my girl. I’m gonna give you another finger, m’kay? You’re doing so well, pretty,” Yuta encouraged as he added a third finger, mouth returning to your clit with vigor. He was now determined for you to cum, to show you everything that you’d been missing. Everything he could give you. He fucked his fingers into you at a steady but deliberate pace. His mouth latched onto your clit, suckling firmly, using your moans and whines as a guide to how to pleasure you, how to pull more sounds from you, how to fill your brain with thoughts of him, him, and nothing else. 

“Yuta, Yuta! Cumming!” you squealed out, toes curling and back arching off the bed at the sensation of your orgasm beginning to roll over you. Yuta doubled his efforts, rolling his tongue over your clit as his fingers picked up the pace. One deep thrust of his fingers led to you practically screaming as you squirted all over your big brother’s face. Yuta couldn’t help his beaming smile as he removed himself from between your thighs as you finally settled from your high. 

“I am so sorry! I-I’ve never done that before. Please don’t be mad!” You begged as you took in his damp lips and chin. 

“Mad? Baby, why would I be mad? That was so fucking hot. Wanna make you do it again. Come here, give me a kiss. Want you to taste yourself, yeah?” You obliged, rising from the bed to meet your brother halfway. Your lips slotted against his and you marveled at the taste of yourself. You opened up your mouth for Yuta’s tongue to explore, more of your flavor exploding on your tongue at the intrusion. After a moment of sloppy making out, he finally pulled back to smile at you.

 “See how good you taste? Such a perfect girl.”

“Did I do good, Yuu?” you ask almost innocently, and Yuta wonders if you planned this, planned to seduce him tonight, planned you make his darkest, filthiest dreams come true. There was no way you were this perfect, this pure and trusting all for him. But looking in your eyes he could see the sincerity, the self-doubt, the need for approval. It made his already hard cock throb with need. 

You let out a yelp as Yuta practically tackled you to the bed, pinning you down with his legs on either side of yours and his arms forming a cage around your head. His face hovered over yours, an indiscernible look of intensity in his eyes.

“You did perfect, sweetheart. Fuck, feel that baby? That’s what you do to me,” he said as his hips bucked against yours, grinding his bulge against your soaked core. You moaned as he continued to hump against you like a teenager, bringing your legs to wrap around his hips in an attempt to bring him closer. After several moments, he pulled away, untangling your legs from around his waist. 

“Think you’re ready, sweetheart? Wanna give you my cock, want you to cum on it. Think you can?”

“Wanna try, Yuu, need your cock so bad,” you confessed, longing for the feeling and heat of him against you again. You heard him swear as he reached for the waistband of his sweats, yanking them down with his boxers. He quickly pulled them off, abandoning them on the floor with your dress. You let out a gasp when you finally saw his bare cock. It was the biggest you had ever seen in person, and it was so pretty it made your mouth water. 

“A-are you sure it’s gonna fit?” you asked hesitantly.

“We’ll make it, yeah? You’re a big girl, you can take it,” he said reassuringly as he took his cock into his hand, stroking it slowly. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the motion, drool pooling in your mouth at the sight. Yuta approached you again, framing your body with his own. 

“Where’s that condom you were talking about?” 

“Purse.”

“That’s too far,” he said resolutely, reaching over to his nightstand and opening the drawer. He pulled out a square of gold foil and brought it to his mouth before slamming the drawer closed. You watched as he ripped the packet open with his teeth, catching the rubber in his open palm. He spit the wrapper out, and you watched as it fluttered towards the floor. Yuta rocked back onto his heels, sheathing his cock in the condom before returning to cage your body with his.

“I’m gonna put it in now, okay?” he asked as he lined himself up with your slit.

“Yeah, ‘m ready,” you said, feeling the head of his cock press against your opening. 

Slowly, Yuta sank into your heat, moaning at the tightness that enveloped him. You whined along with him, the stretch of him burning beautifully as he filled you. You’d never felt so full, so complete. After what felt like ages, he finally bottomed out inside you. 

He remained still, giving you time to adjust to the fullness, but you soon grew impatient, rocking your hips down.

“You can move Yuu, want you to.”

That was all the encouragement he needed to begin thrusting into you. Shallow at first, before pulling further out only to fuck into you even deeper. Yuta was perfect, fucking you deep and steady, using his free hand to toy with the nipple that wasn’t in his mouth. You were quickly overstimulated by the feeling of his mouth, cock, and fingers. All you could do was whine combinations of your brother’s name and curses as he fucked you into the mattress. 

“You take my cock so fucking well, baby. I was born for you, this dick was made just for you,” he growled against your chest, punctuating his point with a especially deep thrust. 

“Love your cock, Yuta! Feels so good!”

“Fuck yeah baby, ready to cum f’me?”

“Yes, yes, wanna cum!” you proclaimed as you felt his hand move from your nipple to your clit. He began rubbing tight circles around the bud as his hips moved relentlessly against yours. He pulled his lips off your nipple with a pop, moving up to kiss your hungry lips. 

“Such a good girl for me, such a perfect little sister, letting your big brother fuck your tight little pussy. Gonna let me do it again yeah? Not gonna be satisfied after one time, are you?” He whispered against your lips.

“No, want this all the time, feels so good Yuta! Never stop, ‘m so close, so close!”

“Come on, you can do it. Squirt all over your big brother’s cock baby! Make a mess, make a fucking mess all over me!” he urged, rubbing your clit faster as his thrusts gained speed. His dirty mouth sent you over the edge, the tight band of pleasure in the pit of your tummy snapping. You gushed on Yuta’s cock with a shriek, eyes seeing white as you came. You could barely hear his chants of “Good girl!” as he chased his own high. His hips stuttered and jerked as you milked him, finally stilling as he released his load into the piece of latex that separated you two. 

He lowered his damp forehead to rest against yours and the two of you caught your breath. After a few minutes, he pulled out and rolled from on top of you to lay beside you, wrapping you in his strong arms. You cuddled into them without a second thought, relishing in his warmth and protection. You both remained silent the whole time until you felt him take a deep breath.

“Do you…do you regret what we just did?” Yuta asked in a small voice.

“...No. Not even a little bit.”

“Thank god. We don’t have to do it again, I just wanted to make sure th–”

“What if I want to?”

“Huh?”

“What if I want to do it again?” you asked, adjusting so that you could look into his eyes.

“Then you’re gonna have to stop going on dates with shitty men.”

“Done. You’re the only man I need.”

© PU-RE-LOVE 2023. DO NOT COPY, REPOST, SHARE, TRANSLATE, REUPLOAD, OR CLAIM MY WORKS AS YOUR OWN ON ANY OTHER SITE.

[kedsandtubesocks]

all of this (& heaven too) - hades!Gojo

He is not what you pictured. You had a painted image in your head of a terrifying immortal, ancient and dreary, who ruled over the dead. Instead you discover the king of the underworld is young, all brilliant wide smiles, and more importantly - dangerously handsome.

Or

You are a goddess of spring torn between two fates, that is until you meet a strange man leaning against a tree…

pairing: satoru gojo x fem!reader

tags & warnings: 18+ only mdni, loose interpretation and altering of the hades & persephone myth, complicated/strained parental relationship (could be read as controlling/manipulative), mentions of kidnapping, brief physical assault, clingy + lovesick Gojo, slight wound licking and finger sucking, allusion to fem!oral receiving, Gojo being Gojo and offering gruesome violence as a form of love… if there is anything I missed pls let me know!!

wc: 14k

a/n: title is from the florence + the machine song of the same name. I already hate myself for wanting to write a companion piece to this from gojo’s pov… okay that’s all please enjoy, thank you for reading! Also biggest thank you to @stellamancer & @willowser who have been my best comrades in Gojo hell

When you were just a young little sapling your mother once asked you what your favorite thing about this world was.

“The great big sky!” You had told her brightly.

“The sky?” Your mother asked, amused. “Not any of the flowers? The rivers? Or the fields, my little sprout?” 

“Nope!” You were adamant.

“Then why?” Your mother grinned and so you told her.

“Because it’s so big! Like there’s so much room to grow!” 

Then you added. “And it’s so blue, like the sea!” 

Your mother had laughed warm, vibrantly loud like the morning rays waking you up.

The sky. You always loved the sky. Even as an immortal crafted from ichor and stardust, the sky made you feel mortal in the best ways, especially now.

Now, as a fully matured celestial being, you are as old as one of the grand redwood trees you loved running alongside when you were a little.

You glance up at the sky while the wind blusters through your fields. Even with looming clouds clustering above signaling the arrival of a storm, you find reassurance there. The storm now actually feels comforting as a similar storm of unrest swirls inside of you. You stomp down from the mountain not even waiting for your mother.

That entire meeting with her, you, and the lord of the skies was pointless. Gakuganji, with his thunderous melodies and even with all his wisdom, made you curse the skies. 

“We shall need to discuss terms of the arranged courting rituals soon.” You had almost choked when you heard the old god’s words. He could not be serious.

Even when you yelled confused, even when your mother sent you a sharp glare to keep quiet, Gakuganji never once acknowledged you. It was like you were not even present, just a simple wallflower ignored against the grander of other immortals. Because to them, you would always be a little sapling, your mothers offspring, nothing more.

The thunder booms ahead and you wish the rain would pour down on you. Maybe the rain would help simmer you down.

“Well now, don’t you look just as feral as a chimera?” A voice emerges,a coy playful tone you’ve never heard before. 

When you snap your gaze to the side, you discover a man. Clothed in deep obsidian robes, he seems just as tall as the sycamore tree he leans against.

His hair is a startling white and -

His eyes are blindfolded.

Being so close to the sacred grounds tells you this man must be another immortal. But you had never met him before.

Then again, you had happily enjoyed staying unaware among your blooms. You wistfully ignored the problems and squabbles the others had. Even when you came of age centuries ago you did not have any desire to accompany your mother to Olympus. It was only recently that she began dragging you with her. Now you wonder if that decision has caused you to be the fool.

You glare at the mystery man. “I’m just fine, thank you.”

“Mhm, doesn’t look like it.” His taunts lightly and it makes you want to shriek.

“Wanna tell me who’s responsible?” Now his lips form into a soft grin. “I could deal with them for you.”

Even as strange as this man is, there’s some sense of comfort in his casual comment. The tension in your body, even in your face, slowly flutters away.

You sigh. “No it’s fine.”

Looking at his covered eyes, you already wonder what color they are.

Your name is called out sharp before you can ask your mystery man what his name is. Your mother’s voice snaps your spine straight. Quickly whipping around you see her scurrying to you with wide worried eyes. 

“Head home, little sprout.” She urges you.

“Wait, why?” 

“Head. Home.” Her words echo with the same force as the storm brewing around you.

Your mother’s magic swiftly swirls all around. She is getting ready to sweep you into the wind that helps her run along her wheat fields. You can’t help it. Your eyes fall to the mystery man. His handsome features smirk amused. You mother however stares at him as if he is an abomination from the depths of the underworld.

“Lord Gojo, good day to you.” And when she says his name, you discover this mystery man is not just from the depths of the underworld, but its ruler.

Your heart plummets fast into your stomach. The strangest concoction of emotions swirls in you. Terror and curiosity are not a desirable pair to navigate through. 

Then in a wild gust, you are teleported home. You wonder if your mind might have flown out in the whirlwind because you still cannot believe it.

You just met the Lord of the underworld.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧

His existence was a simple phrase of his name you were told never to utter. 

Lord Gojo. 

The strongest of the immortals. The rumors paint him as a mindless monster who slaughtered titans during the Great War. He was a ghastly terror. The only immortal fit to rule over the dreary underworld. You used to paint him in your mind as someone aged like Gakuganji. The lord was carved from myth, ancient and terrifying. So you imagined him more creature than man.

Yet instead he exists a smiling handsome man who appears to you now. 

“M-my Lord!” You stammer out frantically.

You had been sitting by the riverside braiding another floral crown to keep your mind at ease. Then, out of the blue, like a strike of lightning, the underworld’s king appears beside you. 

“Oh no,” Gojo simply waves. “Please no titles, they disgust me.”

You almost choke on your own confused inhale.

“What are you doing here?” You squawk confused, trying to ignore how rapid your heart races in your chest.

This god was painted to be a terrifying tale. You mother once even told you he would only bring chaos and misfortune to anyone who crosses his path. 

Now he lounges beside you under the shade of the trees. 

“I came to see if you were alright. You looked so upset before.”

His words knock you breathless. Your mind could not believe this was truly the dreaded god of the underworld. Suddenly said king gasps obnoxiously loud and you almost jump out of your skin. 

“What are you making?!” He leans down to point at the flowers in your lap.

“Flower crowns, they’re for the village children nearby.”

You loved to leave them off at the edge of the fields where the children played. Whenever you catch them wearing the bright floral wreaths your heart soars .

“Aw, that’s sweet.” Gojo admires, like a loud wind chime. “Can you make one for me then!?”

You wonder if the ground has given out from under you. The man whispered to be pure power, now wears a childish frown with his lip sticking out in a full on pout.

“Please?” He pleads. 

Left with no choice, your attention goes back to the flowers bunched lonely in your lap and you furiously return to braiding.

“That one better be for me!” The king of the underworld comments in a song-like tone. A quick temptation rises in you to throw the flowers in the nearby river.

“What are you even doing here?” For some reason, you blurt that out.

The words leave before you can stop yourself and your eyes widen in horror. This is it. Your mind jumps to every awful thing he could probably do to you. And he does the absolute worst.

He laughs.

It colors his cheeks lovely and you hate how it somehow intensifies his handsome features even more.

“I told you! I wanted to check up on you.” Gojo smiles toothy but swiftly the image of a grinning crocodile waiting in the water comes to mind. 

“I don’t believe you.” Again, you speak out too fast. Thankfully his lips thin into an amused line.

“You’re a lot more perceptive than you look, I like that.”

His words shake your brain, a fierce little rattle that has you staring at him stunned. Your heart races to find a regular beat.

“Well,” Gojo sighs. “I did have an annoying meeting with the others. But… while I was up here I thought I’d drop by and see how you were doing, petals.”

The fond playful name he bestows upon you is done so casually. Yet, it snags your breath.

Petals.

The nickname has your mind reeling until you fully process what he said. The meeting he went to was the same one your mother must have gone to earlier and is still at. 

“What was it about?” You ask a bit calmer as you braid simple dandelions to pop against the forget me nots. 

Silence softly settles and mixes in with the rush of the river.

“You mean…no one’s told you?” 

Gojo’s voice is a soft but stunned whisper that steals your attention back to him. You now are frustrated you can’t see his eyes, can’t see the emotion in them.

“Told me what?” You frown.

The lord of the underworld stays quiet. He tilts his head towards your lap.

“The color of those flowers are lovely.” He says simply and even with a touch of awe.

Indignation rises in you, a heated over spilling boil and you snap. “What did you all discuss!?”

Then it hits you. You just flat out demanded so fiercely to the ruler of the underworld.

“I apologize-”

“No,” Blindfold or not his attention is fully directed towards you now. “Don’t apologize. You deserve to feel frustrated. Believe me I would be too.”

You exhale shakily. 

“There's been more talk about your place among the others.” Gojo tells you simply. “Arranged marriage is being thrown around.”

Your heart sinks fast.

“I should have known.” You sigh as you rapidly return back to looking at your flowers. Slowly vines start to grow against your ankles. Your powers react to your emotions, and now the sensation of feeling tired manifests itself. 

“Everyone thinks I’m just my mother's offspring,” you snap mainly to yourself. “Or that I’m only here to be someone’s marriage partner, but I’m not.”

The vines start to prickle against your skin. When you glance down so many have already grown across your legs. 

“Who are you then? And who do you want to be?” Gojo’s words are so soft, casual and almost friendly. 

The question even seems like one of your nymph companions would have asked you. Except Gojo’s directed unflinching attention almost makes you fidget.

“I…” you don’t even know how to answer. Even as you try to gather a reasonable one, the words feel chained in your throat.

You instead sigh and return to braiding.

Eventually the words come out, more of a whisper than anything.

“I’m me…that’s all. And I want to continue just being me.”

It probably made no sense, maybe even sounded awfully simplified at all to the god who watched over the dead. But the words held heavy truth in your heart.

You might not fully know who you truly are, but the choice to figure it out, to grow and simply make decisions for yourself, is all you wanted. You don’t want to be a simplified extension of your mother or a piece to use in a marriage arrangement.

After braiding in another daffodil stem, you notice the king beside you has gone quiet. 

When you turn to the side you discover the god of the underworld is gone.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧

Something dances in the air, an unknown sensation that tingles and crawls against your skin. It feels like a warning you can’t fully describe. 

When you try to press your mother about the meeting she avoids the conversation completely. It causes enough anger to rise so quickly in you that thorned roses pierce your hands. Then, one morning she arrives at your side with the heaviest expression.

“Mother, please tell me, what is happening?” You try asking as earnestly as you can. 

Your mother, with her emotional turbulent eyes like a brewing storm, instead walks over to you and tenderly holds you in her arms.

“Know everything I do, I do for you.” Then she vanishes.

You swallow back a frustrated scream and instead furiously stomp away to your spot by the river stream. 

Thankfully none of the tree or forest nymphs come near you. They must sense your frustration or see the prickly cacti slowly starting to sprout around you like a safely sharp fortress.

“Did you finish my flower crown, petals?” 

A twinkling voice comes swift. It galvanizes your body as you scramble up fast to whip around.

There behind you, with an amused ease, stands the king of the netherworld. At the sight of him, the cacti plants bloom wild and bright buds.

“I like the color of these.” Gojo smriks nudging his face towards them.

“What are you doing here?” You whisper. 

“I’m sorry, petals, don’t have much time.” Gojo frowns and then squares up firmly. It stuns you at how broad and striking he looks, a black ink stain against the picaresque forest landscape that has you captivated.

His face is somber, a true image of a composed ruler. 

“The others made a decision. You’re going to be married off to another young immortal. But… your mother is coming to get you. She plans to keep you locked away. Made a whole scene about it.”

The words pierce your heart, piece your lungs and maybe your very soul as you choke on an exhale.

Blinking away tears, you stare at the king.

“Why are you telling me this?” Your voice cracks.

“Because I believed you deserved to know, and that you deserved a choice.” Gojo answers but in its simplicity you find absolute comfort.

“So here are your choices…” Gojo continues and the scenarios flash a vivid picture in your head.

You can let your mother whisk you away and keep you locked by her side forever. Or you can let the lord of the sky decree all powerful and place you in a marriage with someone you don't even know.

“Or…” Gojo’s voice now dances optimistic and light. 

“You can come back with me.”

The offer hits you with the force of a landslide. You sputter out nonsense, unable to process what you just heard.

Gojo decides to clarify himself.

“Come back with me.” He beams. “No one will know where you went. You’ll get to lay low for a while, maybe figure out what you want to do. You wouldn’t have to worry about anything.”

“And, best part of all? You get to enjoy as much time as you’d like with me.” Gojo sounds absolutely ecstatic at the idea. 

Spending time with him and in the underworld however sounds like a terrifying punishment. Just the thought of the underworld itself draws a haunting dread. Would you be safe there? Could you even last long among the cold dreary depths?

The wind blows fluttering leaves around you. The strange sensation you sensed in the air arrives thicker and now the wind swirls like a warning. This time it urges you of your mother fast approaching with the fate tied with her.

Surprisingly, the lord of the underworld waits so patiently silent. Then, a cocky smirk twitches his lips, a silent challenge almost as if to say he might know your answer. 

Your answer comes in three simple steps. Before you are even fully by his side, you blink and disappear from the surface. 

In the forest, all that remains of you are the cacti now completely covered in glorious colorful blooms.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧

The underworld is a crystal dream.

When you first thought of the realm of the dead your mind conjured up a dreary desolate wasteland, one filled with anguish and wailing, dark hallowed hallways lined with skeletons. Instead gem lined caverns greet you wherever you go.

A solemn gloom however faintly hangs in the air and could not be ignored. You spot multiple shades, souls of those who have passed, wandering towards the different rivers or simply fading in and out at the edge of the castle. Death did soak this land. From a distance the looming light of Tartarus solidifies that haunting realization. The blood soaked fire orb flickered a chilling reminder of the dangers this realm posed.

“How long will I be here?” You had asked. 

“As long as you want.” Gojo chirped. “You can leave whenever you want. Can take all the time you need to figure out what you want to do.”

It was warm and heartfelt. However…

“There are only two rules I need you to follow.” Gojo had added ominously and shattered the warm welcome. The rules were simple.

Never go to Tartarus.

And never eat anything from this world.

Simple, but the ominous directness sparks your mind to wonder about what terrors really did lurk here. Besides those two warnings, Gojo welcomes you with grand excitement into his grand home.

That first night you arrived he practically bounced with every step as he showed you around the kingdom. You were so worried the sight of this world would scare you. Instead elation and even a tinge of appreciation blooms in you. You had never once imagined in your lifetime that you’d ever see this. A new appreciation emerges for this place that would be housing you until you figured out your path. 

Gojo also introduced you to the two other immortals living within the halls of the underworld.

Shoko, the goddess of death, who with her stunning features and dreary eyes smiles so kind whenever she sees you.

Then there was Utahime, the goddess of magic, of spells and the crossroads. 

“I hope you will enjoy your time here. The underworld has a special way of… revealing to us our true selves.” She had told you sagely. You enjoy browsing her vast collection of scrolls and you eagerly listen to any tales she shares with you. 

Even during the times you spend with her or Shoko, the king of the underworld quickly arrives to your side like a persistent gnat.

You decide to take strolls along the charcoal sand riverside, a familiar tradition you did on the surface. Gojo accompanies you any chance he can.

He’s a curious creature and asks you a range of questions. What do you love most about the surface? What do you dream of? What color do you associate with yourself? You answer them all and then some. You tell him about the nymphs, your friends, about the days you used to grow sunflowers so big they would rival trees.

He snickers, makes playful commentary, but listens with full rapture. His attempt to know you better has you grudgingly slowing easing into his presence. 

As much as you enjoy the time spent along the riverside, it doesn’t compare to your favorite place in the entire underworld.

The Elysian Fields stole your breath away the moment you first saw them. You never believed anything organic could grow in a realm meant to harness and hold the dead. Yet the fields stretched before you in wonderful waves of green, of color, of life.

It’s why you spend so much time here. 

Among the grass and the trees, your mind can freely wander. Your mother must be upset. You could only imagine the pain she must be going through not knowing where you are. But frustration quickly leaks in remembering if you did return to the surface, what life could you be able to find there? 

You dig your feet into the lush grass and try not to let poisonous annoyance overwhelm you.

“You look lost in thought.”

Gojo’s voice flutters in. Then his shadow falls over you. You don’t even have to glance your head up because the king of the underworld casually sits down beside you. 

“Haven’t figured anything out yet huh?” He asks and you shake your head a quiet no.

“That’s okay. There’s no need to feel pressured or get upset about it. It’s a big decision, trying to figure out what path you want your life to take.”

You never expected him to be this comforting.

“Besides, it’s not often I get visitors here. So I’m enjoying your company as long as I can, petals.” A grin spreads across Gojo’s face as wide as a sunrise.

All you can do is yank up some of the grass and playfully throw it at him.

He laughs a bright snicker but you notice something very quickly. The grass never fully hits him. The slight distortion peaks your curiosity and you go to do it again.

“If this is your form of attack then I can only imagine how terrifying you’d be in battle.” Gojo teases but you pay him no mind because the grass again does nothing. It falls short from hitting him as if he’s protected by something.

Completely ignoring his comment, you ask him about the strange occurrence.

You appreciate how comfortable you’ve become here and with the god of the underworld to now ask such questions. The king’s lips twitch.

“What exactly have you heard about me?”

A strange question but one with a layered answer. Simply put, he’s the ruler of the underworld, considered the strongest of all the immortals. 

When your mother had told you stories of the titan war, she never failed to mention the power the ruler of the netherworld held. And there is one image tied to him you remembered vividly.

“A helmet, I heard you wrote a helm that gave you immense power.” 

The entire time here your mind has thought too much about the helm. You wondered what it looked like. What was more dangerous though was the curiosity, the desire, to see what he would look like wearing it. 

Gojo’s face blooms with a toothy smile.

“It’s…not technically a helmet.”

Then the god playfully points at the blindfold across his eyes. 

The grand helm has been in front of you this entire time and you didn’t even know. Of course he wore it constantly. 

“That’s incredible.” You can’t help but fully admire the black cloth now. To think something as simple as this cloth was so strong to be considered a war helmet, it amazes you. 

“I heard it made you invisible though. I remember asking about it!” You blurt out. That was another legend you heard about from a few of the nymphs.

“Oh? So you’ve asked about me, petals?” Gojo smirks slyly and your face heats up. Carnations rapidly blooming start to tickle your ankles and you immediately squish them. 

“You know, I’ve always wondered where that rumor came from.” He hums, thoughtfully. “But no. I don’t have powers of invisibility. Instead I have something way more impressive.”

Pride swiftly leaks into his voice and flourishes more when his chest visibly puffs up. The vivid image of a colorful squawking peacock flashes in your mind and you almost snicker until Gojo raises his hand up.

“Hold your hand out for me please.” His voice drops lower and the tone jolts your heart. You wearily lift your hand up. 

Gojo presses his hand against yours. Your heart beats faster, rivaling a humming bird’s wings, and you wait for the impact.

It comes. However, Gojo’s hand applies no actual pressure. You don’t touch his skin or brush against his fingers. Instead only liminal space floats between. The barrier can’t be more than a hair width away yet feels as if it’s oceans wide. 

“What is it?” You ask breathless and intrigued.

“Infinity.”

Gojo explains how the helm, his powers, rely on the eternal force that is infinity. Everything repeats. Everything can be continued into an unbreakable cycle, the purest form of infinity. 

“And what is more infinite than death? Even universes are born and die.” He speaks with an ancient patience. But, you swear you catch an underlying sadness in his voice just out of your reach. Or maybe it is just your own sadness that you were facing as you realized the weight upon Gojo’s shoulders. 

He exists as the personified infinity of death’s cycle continuing over and over again and someone must watch over it. He is unable to step free from that cycle because he is it. 

“You look so sad, petals. What? Am I boring you?” Suddenly Gojo’s jovial voice shatters your thoughts.

The black cloth hiding his eyes holds more weight than it did moments before.

Then you notice none has pulled their hands away, neither your or him. No one makes an attempt to move even now. You simply sit there with the space of infinity resting solid, unwavering, against you and Gojo just out of reach. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧

In the underworld, monotony can creep in easily. You find even after browsing all of Lady Utahime’s interesting collection of spells and curses, you grow restless. 

“If you ever get bored,” Gojo previously told you. “You’re more than welcome to join me in the throne room.”

You had only seen the throne room during the first grand tour Gojo took you on. Now you stare at the throne room’s grand doors petrified to even open them.

“Why don’t you go inside? He would enjoy your company.”

Shoko’s calm sweet voice makes you almost bolt like a skittish deer. Caught red handed and the goddess of death sleepily smiles.

“Oh no. I couldn’t!” You sputter out. 

For some reason, the thought of seeing Gojo on his throne, in his role as king of the underworld flickers something hot to boil under your skin. Shoko’s curious gaze burns a hole in the side of your face.

The goddess gives you a soft nod then continues her walk down the hallway. 

“You know, there’s a hidden alcove above the throne room that can be accessed from the stairs…just a thought.” Shoko muses aloud glancing over her shoulder with twinkling amused eyes. Then the goddess turns a corner and leaves you alone with her words rattling in your brain. 

Were you going to watch Gojo from the shadows?

Before you could even rationalize your thoughts you move quietly up the stairs until you reach your destination. 

The alcove is a type of balcony obscured by the columns towering in the throne room. The view from high up grants you a wonderful sight of the entire room composed of marble and crystal. Instead of the imposing grand ruler you imagined sitting regally composed on his throne, the white haired god is sprawled half lying across the large throne. For some reason you’re reminded of a lounging lethargic cat and you bite your cheek from laughing. 

Gojo stays reclining for some time. Eventually he does pull a scroll out from beside his throne and glances it over. At first you thought he appeared bored. But now as he sighs and flops to the other side of the throne childishly, you now think -

He looks lonely.

Even among the walls gleaming of the riches soaked in this realm, this incredibly boisterous immortal seems lonely. You even notice a hollow air rests in the room and reminds you of a day in winter when the earth seems frozen.

Then a giggle comes. 

You wonder if maybe you misheard it. That is until a child quickly peeks from behind a column. The little girl pops out a bit more before returning to hiding.

Very quickly she scurries to a column closer to the throne. 

Your eyes flicker to Gojo who continues overlooking the scroll on his lap.

The girl begins to tip toe closer and closer to the throne. You now wonder how the king will react. She seems gleeful, unafraid of him. Especially as she approaches with the proudest toothy grin on her sweet face.  

Then Gojo whips around to her.

“GOT YOU!” He shrieks proudly and even points at her accusingly. She jumps like a scared little rabbit until she hunches over laughing. Her joy fills the throne room with so much warmth you find yourself smiling at the interaction. 

“I got closer this time!” The girl stomps pouting and her face puffs up adorably.

“You did! I have to give you credit for that Rika.” Gojo addresses the girl with a delighted friendliness.

“I’ll get you next time!” The girl, Rika, announces sternly as her face furrows determined. 

“I believe you.” Gojo nods and you even believe him. 

The girl narrows her eyes harder at the king but then she quickly giggles. 

“Why don’t you go back and play in the fields, Rika? It's much nicer than playing around here in this boring place. Trust me I don’t even enjoy being here sometimes.” 

They both share a giggle and Rika beams up at him so kindly.

A molten smile draws over Gojo’s face and your heart melts. Softness, gentless, looks wonderful, beautiful even, on his handsome features.

“Alright you little pest, head back to the fields you go.” He playfully shoo’s Rika away with a dismissive wave and she sticks her tongue out at him.

Turning on her heels, you watch Rika slowly fade into the air. A sadness settles over you knowing this young girl passed away so young. But, it comforts you seeing how joyous and bubbly she is even in the afterlife. 

Then, it slowly dawns on you. 

The lord of the underworld is not the terrifying monster whispered to be. He is a silly terror, a bit eccentric, but a kind man. 

Your eyes glaze over staring at nothing in particular and you decide to leave as well.

As you rise from your little secret perch a shadow looms across you. Glancing up, the lord of the underworld towers grins down disgustingly victorious.

“Well now, aren’t you just the sneakiest little weed I’ve ever seen!” 

His comment pulls an indignant shriek out of you as you scramble up. Your face is on fire and you storm away in fast rapid stomps.

Gojo follows fast behind laughing so loud it bounces off the walls and echoes among the throne room. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧

Days come when tears sting your eyes thinking about the surface. You do miss your mother. 

You miss the feeling of the sun on your face, the breeze of autumn fluttering in for the change of the season. You can’t even remember how many days have passed since your arrival in the underworld. 

But even thinking about returning to the surface terrifies you stiff. It makes your stomach turn because you know your answer to what lies above. 

You don’t want to be in an arranged marriage and you don’t want to be locked to your mother’s side. There was no middle way, or other option between these two.

You stay in your room for a few days, wiping away the tears.

Eventually out of your clouded haze a soft knock arrives at your door.

Gojo waits on the other side. You don’t like how effortlessly your heart jumps seeing his tall stature leaning against the door, a striking ink stain with his black robes. His lips are a small but sad crooked grin.

“Can I show you something?”

You wordlessly nod and follow his lead. He doesn’t press you about your sudden cloistering. He doesn’t try filling the space with talk. You’re grateful in the silence that he understands.

Through different corridors of the castle this area feels unfamiliar and a spark of curiosity flickers in you. Then Gojo stops.  

There in the shade of the hallways, a secluded large square open area is before your eyes. The area seems out of place carved out from the marble and gem walkways 

“What is it?” You feel a bit foolish asking.

Gojo grins wide beside you. “Why don’t you go and find out?”

You give him an incredulous and worried look. This could be a playful trick. Utahime had warned you how notorious the lord of the underworld was at playing surprise tricks which included hiding behind corners to scare anyone passing by. 

“I promise, you’ll like it.” Gojo however reassures you with a gentle earnestness. So with a sigh you walk and step into the patch.

Beneath you is actual soil. It’s soft, smells of comfort and you can’t help it, a watery laugh escapes you. How long has it been since you felt the earth above?

Even since you visited the Elysian Fields, you discovered an ominous truth about your favorite spot. 

“Nothing can grow there.” Utahime told you sadly. “While everything is lush and beautiful and cannot die. However, nothing can grow as well.”

But you remembered the carnations. You knew they bloomed when you were there and you revealed that to Utahime.

Her lovely face scrunched up in wise thought and her eyes became distant.

“Unfortunately it could have just been a simple fluke. The Elysian Fields are meant to be a place of peace. Maybe it was trying to comfort you as well… let you feel some sort of semblance of the surface world.”

The thought was comforting but also carried an ocean abyss of sadness. Understanding nothing could grow here in this world made sense.

But now you sat on solid soil, true soil from above.

You scramble to your knees and can’t help but dig your hands through it. The cushiony familiar texture, the smell that has been with you since you were a sapling. Tears threaten to cloud your vision.

Turning around, Gojo is there leaning against the hallway’s frame and beaming bright like a marigold.

“How?!” You ask breathlessly, unable to still process this.

“I have my ways.” Gojo coyly replies. More questions only rise in you but you quietly set them aside.

“Utahime said nothing could grow here.” 

“Hm…that is true. But, why not give it a try?” Curiosity oozes out of him. 

So you decide, why not. With your hands in the soil you inhale and the magic in your veins flickers to life.

You clutch the dirt tight in your grasp as if trying to hang on to this last sense of who you are.

Out of the earth. a small green sprout suddenly peeks out. 

Absolute excitement and giddiness unfolds in you like a wild hurricane. You can’t help but snap your face back to Gojo in pure joy.

A wide open and even a bit proud smile illuminates his handsome face.

“Well look at you, petals! Nice work. Although I was expecting a tree or something, that little thing is nice I guess!”

You playfully throw a handful of dirt at him. It’s childish but it’s the only way you can fight the fondness growing in you, a festering weed you don’t know if you want to eradicate. 

Gojo breaks out in amused cackles. His cheeks puff up and you can almost sense the amusement in his covered eyes.

“I’ll let you enjoy.” He pushes off the hallway frame and is about to turn around when you quickly call to him

“Wait.” 

He freezes and glances over his shoulder. 

You have to ask. “Why did you do this?” 

Now the god of the underworld fully turns his attention back to you. 

“Do what?” 

You sigh exhausted at his innocently coy reply.

“Why did you do this? Give me this plot of land?”

Gojo’s lips, which you have been alarmingly thinking about more, turn into an eased crooked smile. 

“It’s a gift. You’re my guest here and my friend. So why not?” He replies anticlimactic, even shrugs. 

The answer is not satisfying and it slightly irritates you. But you’re still grateful. You might not know the true reason why he did this and might not ever know. But Gojo still did this for you all the same. 

So gathering that gratitude you smile at him, a true earnest one. 

“Whatever the reason is…Thank you, Gojo.”

This is the first time you say his name. Just the taste of it in your mouth leaves a strange tingle. 

The ruler of the underworld’s face. It drops so fast that you barely catch it. But it was there. A look of pure surprise, confusion and something else you can not pinpoint. But all of that quickly vanished only to be replaced by a smile radiating artificiality. Then Gojo vanishes.

In this new space, you exhale against the new weight building in your chest. Leaves then begin tickling your hands and you glance down at your new blooms.

Pure confusion strikes because this is actually a brand new bloom.

You’ve never seen this flower before.

Delicate cotton white star-like flowers greet you and you’re afraid to even touch them. So many of them cluster around each other in rather tall stalks. They remind you of lilies in their shape but are smaller and have a fragility to their thin petals.

You stare at the blooms slowly filling out the area around you until you are completely surrounded.

Horror strikes you fast. 

The cloudy white petals match the white hair of the lord of the underworld. 

Unknown to you, as you sit frozen among your new flowers, wheat fields decay above on the surface.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧

As much of a king and ruler he is, boredom plagues Gojo most of the time. It doesn’t surprise you one bit. 

He pesters you constantly in your garden now. Currently you threaten to grow Venus fly traps large enough to eat him.

“You know, I’d actually be interested to see that.” He muses light and you hate that the thought of creating such a thing has you curious as well.

Gojo and you exchange a glance. Soon enough a large Venus fly trap stands around the same height as the god.

“It’s huge!” He cries impressively and pride flutters through your chest. 

Then the underworld's king sticks his whole head inside the opening mouth of the Venus flytrap and waves his hands with the brightest expression. 

You scream in panic and Gojo cackles beyond entertained. He thankfully removes his head. It’s perfect timing as the plant’s prickly mouth snaps itself shut. 

You are horrified but Gojo just continues to laugh. 

He opens the plant’s mouth and starts moving it. Changing his voice to a high pitched tone, he begins talking as if he’s the plant itself in some sort of bizarre performance. 

“I beg your garden?!” He shrieks in an absurd voice.

It’s ridiculous, unbelievable and you can’t help it. You burst into wild giggles that shake your body. You have laughed more in his company than you can even remember. You’re having true fun with him in a way that you can’t even remember experiencing with your old companions.

You remember previously noticing how lonely the god of death looked and it only made you wonder how you’ve also tasted loneliness. Always stuck to your mother’s side, living in her shadow, it grew lonely there. 

“Don’t laugh at me! Just wanna have fun, be-leaf me!” Gojo continues in that shrill tone. 

Now here you are laughing in pure fun at his antics.

Gojo quickly drops the performance and immediately asks you to make a lotus as small as a clover. It’s tricky but when the flower unfurls a tiny lovely blossom in the palm of your hand, Gojo cheers.

Then you start thinking of jacaranda trees the size of bonsai. With a furrowed concentration you form a beautiful miniature tree. The lovely violet blooms even so small color the area exquisitely. 

“You’re incredible.” He breathes out the words and they almost sound in awe. 

You try not to get flustered but it is hard with his attention so intently focused on you. Instead you wave your hand out. Playfully a bunch of cherry blossoms nearby rapidly swirl in a whirlwind of petals all around him

Gojo shouts an amused ecstatic cheer, flinging his hands up among the petals. You snicker even more. 

It becomes a game. Gojo offers new plant ideas or to grow vegetation he never knew existed. His face genuinely scrunches up at the odd smelling plants you call forth and you snicker pleased at his reactions.

Eventually you take a seat and start to make a few flower crowns. One particularly is for the young girl you saw in the throne room, Rika, and who you’ve caught now a few times peeking at you from around the palace columns.

No surprise but the lord of the underworld takes a seat right by your side. 

“A flower crown huh… You know, you never made the one I asked for when we first met.” He comments with the worst pout. 

Of course he remembers that. You had even forgotten about that meeting by the riverbank. 

You scan around looking for something to use until you spot the perfect crown. 

Reaching to a nearby shrub, you break off a bare small twig. You regally place it on top of Gojo’s head.

“Aw!” His deflated reaction, seeing this powerful god with a simple twig on his head, has you snickering. Then you realize Gojo stopped his infinity barrier for you to place it on him. 

You don’t even want to linger on that thought. So violently shoving it away, you continue braiding the flowers. You concentrate hard, even scrunch your face as you weave in lily stems. 

A delicate but soft crawling sensation suddenly dances across your leg. The culprit is a branch from a leatherleaf fern Gojo has plucked. You wiggle away in a panic.

He again drags the delicate green leaves to playfully tickle you and try squirming away from him as much as you can. An urge to even hiss at him rises. 

“What?! Are you ticklish, petals!?” Gojo beams with excitement. 

“No, you’re just annoying!” You reply sharply trying to stay calm. 

The king however is patient and stubborn. Instead of relenting he wiggles the fern’s large leaves firmer across your arms then to your shoulder where it meets your neck.

You squeal, laughing so unattractive as you wiggle away with all your might to flee from his playful torment. You can’t even chide him to stop, too caught up in the wild infectious giddiness taking over. 

Your body buckles under the ministrations very slowly until your back rests on the solid soil ground. Your eyes snap open.

There, the god of the underworld leans over you.

Gojo is handsome. You knew that from the first moment you saw him. But now you take in how wide his shoulders are, how celestially white his hair glows, and how compromising, as well as dangerous, this position is.

Your mind had started drifting more and more towards deeply temptatious thoughts of him. Thinking of how your hands would grasp his broad shoulders, wondering how his body without any barriers would feel pressed over you. 

A dizzying fire licks through your veins. Gojo finally stops his tickling bombardment and now stares down at you. Even without seeing his eyes they pierce you with a hypnotic pull.

A moment passes or maybe a millennial has. Time ticks by too molten to process.

You want him. You hate how badly you want this infuriating man. You hate thinking about how easy it would be to lean up and kiss him. As tempting as that idea is, how much it consumes you, you remember a heavy truth. If your lips leaned up to kiss him you would only find infinity.

Before anything else can be said or done you rapidly spring up from the soil like a new bud. You say nothing. Neither does Gojo. Quickly you return to braiding your poor discarded flower crown. He remains quiet long enough you wonder if maybe he left your side quietly. 

Until the ground shifts besides you as Gojo moves to stand. 

“Don’t let the plants eat you, petals. You wouldn’t make good fertilizer.” 

You can’t even find a quick retort to shoot back at him. 

When you reach for a few roses to add their lovely color to the floral wreath, you wince. A sharp prickling sensation stabs your fingers.

Drawing your hand back you see your golden blood, the ichor of an immortal, dripping down your fingers.

Suddenly an image flashes wild and frantic in your mind.

Gojo appearing before you suddenly. He inspects your wounded hand. Instead of applying a wrap or even allowing you to heal with time as all immortals can, he delicately places your bleeding fingers into his mouth. He sucks on them gently and fierce. His tongue swipes against your wound, against the blood. He moans, loud, debauched, and it mixes with the wet slurps. He sucks and sucks without any desire to stop. His tongue fondly runs up again along your fingers. The pressure of his mouth, the warmth of it, letting yourself bravely trace his teeth, then feeling him playfully bite your skin… 

You scramble out of your thoughts as a slick liquid heat pools between your legs. Grabbing your flower crown, you storm off to your room praying to flee from the god of the underworld haunting you. 

But you know it is hard, almost impossible, to outrun and hide from a god. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧

“I have to leave for a few days.” Gojo explains as he sits besides you in the garden.

The garden has now become a lush oasis for you. Various ferns happily grow to one side. A few fruit trees already take root and grow steadily. So many flowers sprinkle beautiful clusters of colors all across the space. 

Of course your new white flowers continue to bloom patiently and delicately. Wherever you turn, so many seem to pop up. It's to the point even Gojo made a comment upon seeing the new florals.

“Oh? These look new.” You ignored his curious comment. 

Now you ask about his trip with the same curiosity.

“Leaving? What for?” 

A pause comes. 

“Unfortunately there’s been a recent increase in the amount of newcomers arriving in our realm.”

You don’t miss the way your heart jumps hearing him say “our realm.” The main issue at hand however has you concerned.

“Do you think it’s a sudden war? Or a natural catastrophe?” Your heart twists thinking about either terrible possibility. 

“Don’t know. That’s why I’m heading up to figure it out.” Gojo sighs. 

You nod understandingly and sympathetically to Gojo. Even with his eyes covered, his gaze seems to stare somewhere far away. Then he quickly averts his attention to the budding trees you’re tending to.

“This one seems to be doing great here.” Gojo notes curiously. He leans closer to you, a pressure softly pushing against you. Any giddiness of having him so close is quieted by the truth that it’s infinity against you. 

“It is.” You agree happily. “Pomegranate trees are resilient. They just need the right soil and can bloom with much worry. They even can handle different types of pests.”

Gojo hums a curious thing.

“Sounds a little familiar, don’t you think?” He comments but his voice is deep, low. Hearing his tone this way sparks a dangerous desire to life and it drags its claws down your spine. 

“Familiar how?” You hesitantly ask.

Something gentle, barely with the lightest of pressures, runs across the back of your hand. You think it might be his fingertips. Your body reacts, galvanized in a frenzy. But when you whip your head to the side, the king is gone. 

As you sit alone in your garden, you almost scream.

When the time comes to bid Gojo farewell, you now wonder how you’ll handle truly being alone without him. 

“Don’t miss me too much, petals.” He teases and you roll your eyes.

“Please, I’m going to enjoy having this place all to myself.” You scoff. 

Gojo grins like a cat that’s caught a canary and then, he leaves without another word. 

In his absence you find, at first, you do enjoy the peaceful solitude. But that gets old quickly because stars above you do end up missing him.

You didn’t realize how much your existence here has now become so entrenched with Gojo’s. You miss the strolls you and him take. You miss his questions about the new blossoms growing. You even miss the way he playfully throws figs at you at dinner while you sit not eating a single bite. It has become not just a friendship with the underworld’s god but a true deep bond with him.

“Can you stop with the wistful sighing please?” Utahime sternly asks as you lounge in her study.

“I’m not wistfully sighing!” You stammer out embarassed.

“Uh huh.” She does not seem convinced but also does not press the subject further. The goddess of magic instead stays completely focused on her piles of scrolls scattering her area.

The underworld seemed to be slowly constricting around itself. A tension tightened the air. Everyone, even Shoko, seemed scarce and occupied. Whatever was occurring above on the surface was greatly impacting this world.

You decide to leave Utahime to her devices and slip away quietly.

Now you wander the edge of the royal grounds. Your eyes scan the realm stretching out before you. There, like a lantern among the darkness, the fluttering flickering red light of Tartarus shines unwavering. 

It is the last place that you have yet explored.

You remember Gojo’s rule, his warning about not going to it

However, a small twinkle inside you even feels as if it’s being drawn there by a soft gentle pull. 

You could just walk and see it from the outside, not  even enter its gates. No harm would come from just inspecting the grand prison from a closer distance right? 

Before you can stop yourself your feet guide you across the river’s path to the other side.

The atmosphere distorts into something sinister like the way the air hollows out before a terrifying storm. 

Soon the crystalized rocks become jagged spikes. A smell of sulfur fills your senses and a wave of heat begins to tickle your skin. Soon the glowing red is now a vibrant bleeding sun before your eyes. 

You dare not step any closer. 

Terror slowly claws over your body. This is as close as you will get and will ever get. You turn around to walk back. 

“…Little flower…” a soft raspy voice sends a horrifying chill up your back.

Your head snaps to the side. A creature unravels from the bottom of a rock and stares up at you with tree branches like eyes.

A cursed soul.

Something now besides the creature wiggles from the ground. It morphs and shifts from a clay like structure to take the shape of man. He reminds you of a patch quilt and his body screams that he too is another cursed soul.

“You are far away from home, little goddess.” The curse coos.

You can’t even speak as fear chokes your throat.

Move, you have to move! Something inside you screams. It sounds almost like Gojo. 

Before you can move, hands, or maybe branches of some sorts, suddenly snap around your legs and yank you back. A scream escapes you or maybe you believe you hear a scream.

Everything happens fast. Your body is dragged and pulled closer to the prison. Laughter cackles sinisterly all around you and you thrash as much as you can. Tears clog your eyes. You wonder if this is it, if this will be how your end greets you. You swat at anything you can reach, but the panic is rising more and more.

Then a blinding heat sears under your palms.

You can’t help it, your eyes squeeze shut and your hands feel as if they have exploded. 

Then the pressure is gone from across your body. Your eyes, water soaked with tears,

Your eyes open and you find you are free. No more decayed limbs and branches on your body.

You scramble up as best as you can. Your legs however give out from the amount of wounds sliced across you. You try to heal as quickly as you can but being around such sinister evil for so long has drained you. 

Suddenly something rushes besides you and you are too late to react. The patchwork creature jumps on you. With a gleeful monstrous smile he morphs into like a cage claw against your body and has you in his grasp. 

You scream but you can’t even hear it over the horrifying laughter. You thrash, try to free yourself again, but your body grows too exhausted to even move. Your vision begins blurring.

Then another scream of anguish comes but you can’t even process what or who it is.

Your body is released. You pitch forward, unable to hold yourself up anymore. Then someone catches you. 

“Petals.” Gojo’s voice rings panicked in your ears. You wonder if he is a figment of your imagination.  Before you can even focus, your vision gives out and you fade into oblivion. 

The next thing you know, you wake up in the comfort of the softest sheets and a place that is not your quarters. 

When you come into consciousness and see the grandness of the room, the dark shade of the walls, you piece together quickly this is Gojo’s bedchamber.

A new type of panic grips your heart and you scramble up.

“Careful, careful!” Suddenly the man himself reprimands you in a quick panic. Gojo sits up from his chair beside the bed. Whatever emotion lies in your eyes freezes him from approaching you. 

“What happened?” You ask in a small whisper. You wonder if it was all a nightmare, a terror fueled fever dream.

“I found you in Tartarus.” Gojo replies. This is the first time his voice has sounded this upset. His face darts away from you.

“What were you thinking? What were you even doing there?” His voice is sharp as a blade’s edge and it cuts you swiftly.

Your reason now sounds so childish. 

There have been multiple times when you rolled your eyes at Gojo’s antics. You believed him to be a fool, a childish king who has not grown up, a result of being alone for so long here in this realm. But now you wonder if you are the foolish one. 

You croak out an apology that rips your heart open. Squeezing your eyes shut you try to stop the tears from coming but it’s no use.

“I just…I just wanted to see. It was…it was something you wouldn’t understand. I’m sorry.” You apologize again. A poisonous frustration and anger at yourself for being so foolish fills you. If you had only listened. 

Suddenly a hand rests gently on top of yours. No barrier, no infinity. Just Gojo’s soft larger hand enfolding yours. It’s warmer than you expected.

Gojo does not yell, doesn’t even say anything else. He simply sits besides you staring so concerned but understandingly. You squeeze his hand and more tears form rivers down your face. 

The underworld’s king stays by your side the entire time. 

Right before you fall asleep, still in the king’s bedchamber, you swear the most delicate and tender touch runs across your face.  

Once you are healed Gojo, holding your hand, takes you back to Tartarus. 

“I should have showed this place before.” He explains quietly. “I could have only imagined your curiosity.” 

You try to focus on his voice but it is hard when you try to process what lies before you.

“Wait…Are you sure we’re at Tartarus?” 

“Uh…yes?” Gojo replies a bit confused but you are more confused than he is. Because there is no possible way this could be the same place. 

The same burning furious fiery glow is now a simple flicker of a flame like a dwindling candle. All the rocks and sharp spikes have been crushed and leveled into debris cluttering the whole area. The air even holds a haunting stillness. This reminds you of a forest after a fire, a quiet entombment that spoke of a tremendous fury. Did he do this?

You realize as much as you want to know, you want to leave even more.

A squeeze of your hand is all you have to say before Gojo squeezes back. In a blink you and him are back at the palace’s main atrium. But a quest stands there waiting.

“Ijichi!” Gojo cries bright and happily.

Your eyes go wide.

The messenger of the gods. You had seen him in passing and even then you found him to be an uptight god. Now his face is hardened and upset. His keen eyes spot you and his mouth drops. 

Ijichi cries your name and something inside you falls. 

“What brings you here Ijichi?” Gojo asks with a twinkling curiosity.

“You know exactly why I’m here Gojo!”  The messenger snaps and a part of you wants to shrink away. But, another piece of you knows you can’t run anymore.

You know why the messenger is here. 

“I need to speak with you.” Ijichi urges with pleading eyes staring so intensely at you.

Reality weighs you down. You have to address this. You cannot keep hiding anymore.

So you let go of Gojo’s hand and you and Ijichi move to a private room.

You sit down ready to hear about your mother, about the urgency that you need to return to the surface world and face your fate.

But what comes to you instead plummets your entire soul. With a gentle but stern kindness tells you all that is happening.

Horror, dread, and all of their friends, fill your body.

The surface world is dying. Famine plagued the fields. Livestock is suffering. People are suffering.

All because of your actions.

Ijichi, bless him, is not accusatory, does not shame you or put blame. 

“You need to return home with me. I’m sorry.” The messenger urges but sympathy seeps out.

You don’t hesitate to nod yes as tears come in tidal waves.

There is not much to take with you. You say farewell to your garden, to the beautiful palace, to Utahime and Shoko who both hug you incredibly tight.

But when you go to say goodbye to the lord of this world, he is nowhere to be found.

You do not have to search long. He sits in his study. This the most you’ve ever seen him actually use it and look so dashingly studious, regal, at work. He completely ignores your entrance and does not even spare you a glance. 

“I’m leaving.” You announce. He stays silent.

You swallow hard and compose yourself.

“Thank you so much for letting me stay here for as long as I have. You’ve been a wonderful host.”

A wonderful friend. A wonderful companion, and maybe something even more wonderful, so fond and dangerous, you dare not speak its name.

He stays quiet and you are about to walk out of the door when suddenly Gojo’s hand grabs yours in a rapid grip. Your heart trips over a skipped beat from feeling his true hand clutching yours.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” He argues. 

“I have to go back. I have to face this.” You urge even though your voice wavers waterlogged.

“You don’t have to. We can figure this out.” 

He does not want you to go.

You even accept you don’t want to either. Not just because you fear the truth awaiting you, but because you’ve become terribly attached to this place, attached to him. 

At first you wanted to laugh it off as simply being stuck here and left with no choice but to just tolerate the god of the underworld. Instead you found you sought Gojo on your own more and more. You wanted to know him, not as a ruler of the eternal realm of death but as the man you learned hates pickled radish and loves any type of sweet treat.

You swallow hard and shake your head.

“I can’t keep running away.” You even surprise yourself at how firm, how solid and unwavering, your voice resonates.

Gojo’s hand releases yours. The air brews tense and thick. Then the god of the underworld lifts his blindfold up. 

Your heart stops.

Beautiful ocean blue eyes stare at you. Of course his eyes would be luminous pools.

You can’t speak, don’t know what to say. 

“Satoru…” he instead speaks first. “That's my true and first name... Thought you should know it before you leave.”

The gift he is presenting to you is immense. No mortals know the true name of your kind. Even you are addressed by a secondary name so tightly tied with your mothers. 

Now he is giving you this pure full piece of himself. His eyes, his name, his heart, all are pieces you tenderly lock away in your heart. They hold more precious value than any of the gems buried in this land. 

Before you can even reply Gojo leans forward.

With the most delicate of pressure, he kisses your forehead. Your eyes water but now for another emotion too grand to process while you drown in its waves.

He whispers out and says your name, your pure true name. He’s never said it before. 

Then he disappears. 

You swallow back a deep sob and return back to the atrium. 

Gojo is nowhere to be seen even when you head to  the stairs that lead back to the surface.

Before you leave, Utahime gives you one final hug then discreetly slips something into your hand. It’s a simple cloth with a sigil on it. You had seen her work on these types of spells many times and knew they all had various uses.

“Should you ever need us again or want to return, just use this.” She whispers low in your ear.

You clutch it tight, like a lifeline. When you go to give one final glance back to the underworld, the king is missing. You can’t find him anywhere and heartache clogs your throat. So you turn your back to the darkness and step into the light of the surface.

The smell of the air hits you first. The crisp scent of the dying leaves arrives in the brisk breeze. A barren earth stretches out before you and you walk into the desolation to meet your fate. 

The sky above is a clouded muted gray. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧

Your mother is furious, absolutely in a rage that would rival a tsunami. But thankfully with your return the earth flourishes overnight as if by a miracle. The lush green should be a comfort to you. The smell of the sunlight should elevate your spirit warm but instead you ache for the soft glow of the gemstone walls. 

“You have two choices.” She tells you sternly. “Either marry the immortal chosen for you or stay here with me.”

You stay quiet and she snaps out your name, a part of you wants to laugh because it sounds like a curse. 

“Answer me!” Your mother demands and you break.

“I dont want neither!” You cry back. “Can’t you see?! The reason I ran away to the actual place of death is because I cannot pick either! Because I don’t want to!”

“Could you truly be so selfish?!” Your mother accuses you with a seething venom.

Selfish. Were you being selfish? 

You once discussed this with Gojo because you had wondered many times if you were simply being a selfish brat running away from your problems. 

“I don’t think so.” He shrugged. “Isn’t it selfish of you mother to want to keep you beside her forever? Besides, if you are being selfish then who cares. Nobody realizes it’s actually okay to be somewhat selfish every once in a while, especially when you’re deciding what direction your life is going to take.” 

His voice becomes a soothing balm to your frustration. 

So you bare your soul and heart before your mother. You could never be happy being forced to wed another. Nor would you ever be satisfied staying stitched to your mother’s side. You need your freedom. You wanted and deserved to have your own choice away from those options. 

Her eyes flicker a kaleidoscope of emotions. She thankfully lets you speak the entire time without interruptions. When you are done, she gently walks forward and embraces you. You squeeze her tight.

“I’m sorry, my little sprout.” She comforts you. 

You exhale, relieved. 

“That damn monster of the underworld,” she says with a steady anger. “He filled your brain with nonsense.”

She pulls away and your face falls in horror. 

“Don’t worry. I already plan to discuss with Gakuganji a meaningful punishment for him.”

You cry out a plea to her. But she simply smiles and pats your cheek.

“You won’t have to worry about him or anything else ever again.” She affirms confidently

Your frustrated scream falls on an empty room as she leaves in the breeze of the wheat fields. Emotions bubble up in you so wildly that your head begins to throb. 

The panic clouds your vision. What will happen to Gojo? Why couldn’t your mother listen to you? Then an idea quietly emerges among the chaos. 

You remember the slip of cloth tucked away in the private corner of your chambers.

Before your mother could come back, before you can even fully think, you race to grab it. You trace your finger along the intricate ink and then close your eyes.

When you open them, you are in the underworld, back in your garden. 

It is as lush and beautiful as the day you left it except now the trees have grown in beautifully. Their shady leaves flourish against the marble and crystal. Your eyes land on the lone tree standing so firmly among the others.

The pomegranate tree flowers happily in full bloom filled with a fruitful harvest.

You remember the discussion you had with Gojo over these trees. You spoke of how resilient they were, and he quietly offered how familiar that sounded. The beautiful reddish violet fruit you now pluck so effortlessly from the branches you recognize is you.

You grew and flourished, gained a new sense of yourself. You carved out an existence here and bloomed into a new life. 

You act fast. With all your strength you smack the fruit against the bark of the tree. Thankfully it cracks open to reveal the glistening seeds inside.

A conversation you had with Gojo has been playing in your mind since you returned to the surface.

“Why can’t I eat anything here?” You asked the first time you joined him for dinner. 

“As tempting as these cakes are,” he grins, taking a large bite out of the sugary sweet. 

“Eating anything from here means…you’re pretty much stuck here forever, petals. And I don’t think a pretty bud yourself could handle that now could you?”

Those words echo more than ever as the pomegranate seeds stain your fingers.

You could handle it. In fact you want to embrace it. A life here, with Gojo. You knew the consequences awaiting you. A part of you even screams to stop.  

But you instead scoop out a handful of seeds and swallow them swiftly.

Their juicy delightful nectar fills your mouth. If this is being selfish, you think it has never tasted sweeter. You wait thinking there would be a reaction to doing this, to stealing yourself to this world. The only thing that comes is someone breathing out your name.

You snap your face to the side. There Gojo stands completely frozen.

His blindfold is missing. The ruler of the underworld now stares at you with his bare wide cerulean eyes that rival a field of bluebonnets.

“Petals…” Confliction strangles his voice and his eyes flicker to the pomegranate in your hand.

“What are you doing here? What did you do?” You don’t think you have ever heard him sound this confused and panicked.

“Satoru.” 

His name, it’s all you can say. It’s a prayer so beautiful you never want to stop saying it.

You blink and the king vanishes. Then he is before you. His hand clutches your face firm and he swoops down to kiss you.

You can’t help but whimper as your breath gets stolen from your lungs. You clutch onto the god tighter, desperate to get as close to him as you can. 

Under your touch infinity disappears. 

Satoru’s tongue slips effortlessly into your mouth and explores with a chaotic mess. You taste the same desperation he has mirroring your own.

He lifts you up effortlessly with one hand and it makes you squeak. Then, the two of you are whisked away.

When you arrive in his chambers a frantic edge is set ablaze as Satoru presses you against the cool wall of his room. He effortlessly grinds against you and another whimper leaves you to get caught against his lips.

You are drunk on the taste of him. You don’t even care how loud you pant because you are too afraid this moment could end at any moment.

Satoru starts to kiss the corner of your lips. He quirky nips sharp bites against your skin and your eyes close in bliss.

He kisses across your cheek, down your neck, alternating between kissing and softly biting. 

Then cool air tickles your bare kiss soaked neck and your eyes wearily open. 

Satoru is now on his knees.

His hands reverently run against your delicate robes. A meditative but possessive gleam darkens his eyes making them look like deep trenches.

He kisses your exposed thigh and you tug at his soft white hair. His rich cobalt eyes now flicker up to you.

You sigh out his name with a slight whine as you miss his lips against yours. 

“Shh...” he urges softly as he bites at your skin again harder. Your hips rise on their own accord. He chuckles deep and thick.

“Let me worship you.” He whispers with reverence with eyes drenched in delicious lust. It’s the last thing he says before his tongue suddenly licks an intent path up your thigh straight to your sex and you see stars.

Eventually he carries you to his grand bed where you now lie against him. 

Love drunk in the afterglow you can’t stop giggling at how Satoru continues to kiss any inch of your body. 

“You really are the terror of the underworld.” You snicker playfully.

“Oh of course. Can’t let you forget my reputation.” He beams proud as he kisses your fingertips once again. 

His chest is solid and warm under you as you rest against him. His heart beats like a beautiful strong drum you can rest your ear against and hear now. Instead you slide up higher to burrow your face against his neck. All of this is intoxicating and a gift you cherish. 

But even in the afterglow, the weight of this union settles over a grim cloud.

“My mother is going to set the world on fire.” You mutter soft and pained.

“No,” Satoru kisses the top of your head. “The old geezer upstairs won’t let her.”

A comforting in his own Gojo way and you snort amused for a moment. Against his warm solid neck Satoru only draws you closer to him. The two of you stay in bed for what feels like a millennia but still not enough.

You are about to slide out of the bed when the god of the underworld whines grabbing you back like a child refusing to let go of their favorite toy.

“I need to get ready.” You softly say as you run your fingers through his cloud white hair.

“No.” He pouts. “You’re stuck here with me forever now, petals.”

That is true. 

“I am, but you know I can’t avoid this.”

As you go to slip on the new beautiful robe that of course Satoru had ready for you, he blurts out-

“Marry me.”

Your knees almost give out. 

You screech out a confused noise and whip your attention back to him.

“Are you serious!?” 

“As serious are you were when you banged that poor pomegranate against a tree!” He fires back.

In a blink Satoru is suddenly holding you in one of his arms while the other cradles your face in his hands.

“Marry me.” He repeats again but this time his voice leans sincerity. “Let me annoy you for the rest of eternity by your side as your husband.”

You don’t hesitate. You pull his face towards you and kiss him desperate. The poor robe you slipped on is hastily yanked off and you are returned back to the cooling bed sheets.

“You know,” Satoru muses playfully as you rest again tangled up in his arms. “I never heard you say an official yes or no.”

You lift your head up and give him an incredulous glare.

“You can’t be serious, Satoru.”

“You’re right.” He softly beams down to you. “The amount of times I heard you screaming ‘Yes Satoru! Yes my love!’ was the best answer.”  

You grab the nearest discarded pillow and smack him with it. It fully collides against his too gorgeous face and he laughs at the collision. The tables turn when he swiftly snags the pillow from your hands and playfully retaliates. Your laughter and his bounce together so brightly in the room. It fills you with enough strength to finally face whatever fate awaits you. 

Your beloved headache of a fiancé reassures you with one soft kiss to your shoulder.

Before you can even step out of the palace, the surface world’s entrance cracks open. From the shadows you see your mother and then beside her is the god of the skies himself.

“Oh ho! Well now…this is going to be fun!” Satoru cackles with excitement.

“Hey, my darling soon to be wife,” he turns to ask you. Even with his eyes covered again you know  glee shines in them. “You want the old man’s head on a platter as an early wedding gift?!”

You almost choke on air. Of course you’re not the only one outraged at what he said.

Your mothers voice cracks the air with destructive anger 

“You’re engaged to this monster?!” Her eyes are blistering fires threatening to scorch you where you stand. You reply a solid yes without hesitation.

“Aw! I didn’t realize you liked me so much already, my dear mother in law!” Satoru coos. Your mother flat out ignores him as do you.

“This is prosperous! Outrageous!” The lord of the skies, Gakuganji, thunders in an outrage rivaling your mothers.

“She ate food from this world, and is so bound here.” Shoko explains with a steadied ease.

“There is now way you will survive here any longer!” She seethes at you. “You are not meant for this world!”

“Actually…” Suddenly the poised voice of the goddess of magic herself flutters into the room. With a steeled conviction, Utahime steps forward. She explains how she has been watching you ever since your arrival and noticed changes happening.

“Growth, new life has emerged here. We have all witnessed it. On top of that, I think being here has unlocked new abilities I don’t think we even thought were possible.” 

Powers?

“When you momentarily stopped those curses from Tartarus.” Gojo explains patiently as if he read your mind. Faintly you hear the horrified voice of your mother screaming Tartarus?! 

“I did that?” You ask stunned.

“Yup, you did.” Satoru beams, prouder than ever. 

“What is the meaning of this!?” Gakuganji demands.

“It means she can survive here. If anything it maybe even suggests she might have even been destined to be here.” Utahime replies steady.

Destined to be here.  

You think of the words she once told you, about how the underworld revealed truths about one’s self.

“Even with that possibility, you stay here and there will be no peace.” Gakuganji urges.

You know the suffering that could come. Your mother is a stubborn creature who would never relent.

For some reason, you think of the bleeding heart flower. You think of their stems and how distinctly the flower seems to be two parts blended together beautifully. Some of the petals even have to curl open for it to grow. So you decide to split your existence in half.

“For half the year I will be here, in the underworld with my husband.” The word rolls effortlessly off your tongue and it feels right, feels as if you have always said it. “And the other half will be on the surface. Equal time to each place.” 

Gakuganji hums a moment to consider.

“You cannot allow this!” Your mother pleads to the grand elder god. 

“No one can undo what has been done. The fruit has been eaten and she’s tied to this world.” Shoko clarifies simply. 

Satoru hums a playfully amused noise that makes you want to smack him upside the head. Instead you ask for the room to speak with your mother. Now it’s just you and her, as it has been for so many centuries. Except a canyon now stretches between you and her. She waits on the other side of it a vengeful fury.

“Did you do this to spite me?” Your mother asks pained. Exhaling exhausted, you shake your head.

“I did this because it’s my choice, and because I love him.” You tell her with a patience that even surprises you.  

“And that’s all I’ve wanted. Not to choose between what you wanted me to pick but instead make my own decision.”

“You…you cannot love the lord of the underworld.” She croaks with so many emotions tangled in her voice.

Your lips tug as if Satoru himself pinches your cheeks into a smile. 

“I’m sorry, but I can and I do.” Might be one of the hardest tasks you ever faced, but you would do it for all of infinity. 

Your mothers eyes scan over your face. The emotions in them seem endless, a bottomless well that you can’t even swim in.

“You’ve grown, my little sprout.” Her voice wistfully comments. The two of you simply stare at each other. 

After that she barely looks at you even after the others return.

The decision is made rather simply compared to the riotous calamity that preceded it. Six months with your mother and six months here. But of course, your mother declares your time on the surface begins now. Gakuganji agrees and your spirit pops.

Any moment of celebration, any hope of wanting to enjoy being here, decomposes in your chest. You gather yourself as best as you can.

“Can I at least say goodbye to my husband?” You ask.

“You are not even married yet.” Gakuganji sneers.

“We aren’t. But you could wed us right now and change that if you’d like, old man!” Satoru offers. The old god’s face crumbles up so disgusted you have to hold back a laugh.

Thankfully you’re allowed a moment of solitude with Satoru in his chambers. You embrace his tall frame and he holds you tight.

“My offer still stands. Just say the word and I’ll throw the old man in the one of rivers.” 

“Satoru please.” You sigh.

“What?! All I am saying is there is still time, I could easily throw him in. He wouldn’t even know what hit him.”

A small snicker does leave you as you shake your head no. 

“Fine.” Your soon to be husband sighs disappointed. 

“So much for an engagement announcement.” Gojo teases trying to soothe the moment with humor but a question about your sudden engagement has been weighing on your mind. You need to ask him before you leave.

Holding Satoru’s hand you gently lead him to the beautiful carved out window nook. When he sits completely flush besides you, you reach over to draw his blindfold away.

His eyes are oceans you never wish to leave. But you will have to. Every six months you will be away from this man who has burrowed a hole in your heart and made it his home.

“Why do you want to marry me?” You ask.

His eyes scrunch up slightly curious but also as if he doesn’t understand your question. 

“Because you’re my other half.”

That’s beautiful, but it’s not enough. You’re thankful Satoru senses that’s not the answer you wanted and he sighs dreamily. 

“That first time I saw you, do you remember?” He begins.

At Olympus, that seems like centuries ago now. 

“You had so many petals and leaves stuck in your hair. Yet, your face was so angry…like you could’ve ripped apart the mountain in half.” He explains fondly. “Now I have no doubt you could if you smack a fruit against it.”

“Hey,” you playfully laugh but it’s watery, soaked in disbelieving love.

“But you were incredible, this hilarious creature of both fury and flowers. I had never seen someone so beautiful.” Satoru adds 

His hands now have moved to encompass yours.

“Do you think we’re rushing into this?” You question.

“Do you think we are?” He mirrors it back to you.

A piece of you agreed this is rushed. But then the ache inside of you already dreading leaving this man speaks louder than your doubt.

“Look,” he speaks first. “My life has been the same for so long. Like I got stuck in my own infinity and then you came stomping in… ”

Satoru’s cerulean eyes fiercely flicker up to you and he stares unwavering.

“I’d tear apart the skies for you.” He says simply “You make my life brighter. You and your scrunched up annoyed face you always give me. Your laugh. The way you talk to all your planets like they can speak back-“

“Plants respond better to hearing voices.” you croak interrupting him.

“It helps them grow faster, yes I know.” He finishes for you so cheekily and your heart is about to float out of your body.

“So you really want to marry me?”

Satoru rolls his eyes at your question. 

“Petals, I wanted to marry you the moment you threatened to shove me in the River Styx during one of our morning strolls.”

You bark a watery laugh. “Don’t tempt me. I’d still do it.” 

The god of the underworld suddenly breathes out your name.

Tenderly Satoru leans forward and kisses you. You don’t care that your mother is waiting for you. You simply want to enjoy this slice of eternity for as long as you can. 

“I love you.” You whisper the words, a holy sigh, against his lips.

“That’s nice.” He muses. He’s lucky no throw cushions are nearby or else you would have smacked him. 

It dawns on you that this is the closest to a wedding you will get until you return. So you pull away from his lips and vow yourself to him. 

You vow to always roll your eyes and snap at him when he says something ridiculous. You vow to always now take the biggest bite out of his confectioneries even if he complains. You vow to be by his side until the cosmos collapses and even beyond that.  But mainly, you vow-

“That you never feel lonely for too long ever again, Satoru.” 

His eyes go wide, shimmering almost in awe. The king rushes forward and kisses you with a dizzying passion.

“We would make terrible marriage officiants.” He mutters against your lips.

“Who cares.” You scoff.

“Hm seems I’m rubbing off on you in many other ways, petals.”

You chide him for being crude and he snickers, your ridiculous husband.

“What a cute new queen you are.” 

Queen. By marriage, by love, you are a queen now. 

“Your crown is going to be a twig, like the one you placed on me that one time.” Satoru grins playfully.

“As long as you match with me.”

He laughs so freely and it’s beautiful. 

The thought of being a ruler, a monarch, for some reason does not scare you. You thought it would. Instead it only comforts you knowing the king who would be beside you is Satoru. 

This joyous bubble however deflates as you return to your mother. This would be it. This is your goodbye until six months from now. But even among the heartbreak, a wave of reassurance washes over you. Because it is just six months. Compared to a lifetime without Satoru, six months is a simple breeze.

Once again you bid goodbye to Utahime, to Shoko, both embrace you tighter than ever. After all, you are one of their own now. And your husband, your poor Satoru, now wears the most obnoxious teary face that makes you want to flat out walk away from him. 

But of course you embrace and kiss your king softly.

“You better not kill my garden.” You warn against his tender lips.

“No promises.” He smiles. 

As you’re about to start your journey, Satoru wails dramatically.

“One last kiss to remember me by!” Then making a  horrendous kissing-like sound, he rushes to your side. You effortlessly hold your hand out to stop his face from reaching you. He weeps horrified while Shoko and Utahime kneel over laughing in unison.

You’re amused at his antics but among the hilarity, Satoru leans into your palm. Gently he tilts his face and leaves a soft kiss on the palm of your hand. 

It grants you tremendous strength to start your journey. 

As you reach the edge of the stairs, so close you can almost taste the sunlight, you turn around. The last time you did this, Satoru was nowhere to be found. Now he stands at the very edge of the bottom of the walkway.  

A moment passes. It is just you and him staring at each other. You’re tempted to run back to him one final time. But you can’t. You inhale a deep resolve and Gojo looks on proudly as he nods.

“I’ll see you soon, petals.” His voice is low but you hear it, clear as day, even from the top step. You nod back, not trusting your own voice to reply.

His words give you the push to reach the surface.

The morning breeze tenderly greets you first. Your legs feel like they can give out from all the emotions rushing through your body. So you look down to focus on where you step.

There among the lush green grass your white underworld flowers already sprout below you. Your lips twitch trying to hold back a tearful laugh.

Glancing up you see the grandest blue sky stretching far and wide. 

You’ve always loved the sky. 

Except now your breath hitches at the sight. 

Because the color above is the same captured and crystallized in your husband’s eyes.

In the endless blue you find a new reassurance about the growth waiting for you in this new life. You also think of Satoru waiting for you as well. With the open sky now a welcoming blessing, you walk confidently into this new life.

With every step you leave behind delicate cloud-white underworld flowers blooming beautifully among the grass. 

[gothicswiftv]

Langa Week Day 1: Found Family/Celebration

The other prompt is Cake and I like to think they brought a cake to the park and share it before a long afternoon of skating 🎂 @langaweek

Drawing is inspired by that one vine and the background image I used can be found here!

[dangerpronebuddie]

hi maggie 🥰

70 for the 100 kiss prompts please!!

Hi Nolan 🥰

I loved this one! Hope you like it darling 💕

Kiss Me Once Cause You Know I Had A Long Night 30/?

70. An accidental kiss that confuses you both, but only a moment passes before you crash your lips back against each other's

Summary:

“Actions speak louder than words,” Eddie shrugs. “Goodnight,” he smiles, leaning in for a quick kiss.

“Night,” Buck says softly, meeting him in the middle.

Wait a minute.

Eddie pulls back like he's been shocked. And he has. In way more ways than one.

(read below!)

They're sitting on Eddie's couch, talking over some (admittedly dull) action movie Chim recommended, one night they both managed to have free.

Eddie had ended things with Marisol at the makeshift wedding in the hospital, and hasn't been eager to "get back out there." He still doesn't know why he decided then was the best time, but it was for the best. When you spend the entire day wishing you could marry your best friend and not your girlfriend, there's something wrong with the relationship.

Buck and Tommy had decided to stay friends, and the three of them still got together often for fights or a beer, (no basketball. Not again), and Buck hasn't jumped back into dating yet.

And, with Chris being the social butterfly Eddie never was, the kid was at yet another sleepover, leaving Buck and Eddie without any plans.

So, pizza and about three beers later, Buck is deciding whether to stay the night. Something he hasn't done in months. Not since he came to Eddie after the lightning.

“Come on, do you really want to drive home at one in the morning?” Eddie reasons. He pretends his reasons for offering the couch are noble. They're actually… kinda pathetic. Be in love with your best friend and try to keep your dignity, or your sanity.

Buck smiles and sips his beer. “If I didn't know any better I'd say you've missed me.”

I always miss you when you go, Eddie doesn't say. “Oh yeah. I don't know how I manage to sleep without your snoring as a lullaby,” he says instead, tugging on a curl behind Buck's ear.

Buck gently elbows him in the ribs. “If that's your way to convince me…”

“I never said my negotiation techniques were good,” Eddie shrugs.

“They're terrible,” Buck scoffs, earning himself an elbow to the ribs right back. He giggles and ducks his head with a smile, pulling his lower lip between his teeth. “Okay, I'll stay. Wouldn't want you to have to sleep without my snoring as your white noise machine.”

“What do you know? My negotiation techniques worked!” Eddie grins.

Buck rolls his eyes and shoves at his shoulder. “I will never admit it.”

“Actions speak louder than words,” Eddie shrugs. “Goodnight,” he smiles, leaning in for a quick kiss.

“Night,” Buck says softly, meeting him in the middle.

Wait a minute.

Eddie pulls back like he's been shocked. And he has. In way more ways than one.

He has no idea what made him do it.

Maybe the box holding his feelings for Buck had finally exploded. Maybe his brain got up the courage without telling him the plan. Maybe it was the easy affection they'd been exchanging recently. Shoulder touches, lingering hugs, knees pressed together in the engine or on the couch.

Maybe it was just Buck.

Either way, Eddie feels like he's been struck by lightning again.

Judging by the wide eyed stare he's getting from Buck, he's at least not alone in his confusion.

“Eds,” Buck whispers, glancing at Eddie's lips.

“I'm sor-”

Buck surges forward, stealing the words from his lips and cupping his cheek. Eddie sighs into the kiss and melts against him, reaching up to card his fingers through soft curls.

Buck grips Eddie's hips, nudging him until he gets the message. Eddie throws a leg over Buck and straddles him, never once breaking their kiss.

He has no idea what's happening. But there's no way he's going to stop it.

Buck slips his hands beneath Eddie's henley, splaying his palms on his ribs as he teases the seam of his lips apart. Eddie makes a soft noise as Buck licks into his mouth. He tangles his fingers in Buck's curls and settles more firmly in his lap.

They kiss until the need for oxygen separates them. Eddie rests his forehead against Buck's. Buck traces nonsensical patterns on Eddie's lower back.

“Guess actions really do speak louder than words,” Buck smirks. Eddie kisses the expression off his face.

“Stay,” Eddie whispers, and it feels right. Asking Marisol to stay always made something sour twist in his gut.

All he feels now is butterflies, giddy and fizzy like champagne.

“That was the plan,” Buck says with a cheeky grin.

“Stay,” Eddie says again, pouring everything it's too soon to say into the word.

I want you, stay. Don't sleep on the couch, stay. I love you, stay.

Buck presses a soft kiss to his lips, just like their first kiss and yet somehow completely different. “Okay. I'll stay. For as long as you want me.”

“Forever,” Eddie whispers before kissing him again.

From 100 kiss prompts

[macfrog]

so torn but i need a little 🩵

feel free to send more than one, baby! here all week 🫶🏼

meeting joel 1.3k words | duckie's baby shower 🩵

“fucking – shit…”

the truck squeals around the corner – the same goddamn corner it squealed around five minutes ago. you pass that same lime green mailbox, those same kids drawing farm animals on the sidewalk.

jesus christ, just admit it. you’re lost.

you did visit the place – though, only the once. and that was a couple months ago, now. you didn’t put a lot of effort into memorizing each street in the fucking neighborhood. did the houses look this similar, the day that you viewed it?

you’re sure you’re circling the same rows of houses over and over; sure you recognize the wind chimes hanging from that porch. you take another left, and –

“for fuck’s sake,” you sigh, pulling in down the street from those same sidewalk chalk artists. their cow drawing has a smug smile on its face.

your eyes roll to the right, and there it is. you probably passed it three times over.

it’s humble, quaint. pretty white wood, a wide-open porch. still some budding flowers left in planters by the door. you blink from the bay window to the numbers nailed squint into the column.

it’s so…grown-up. it almost makes you shiver.

you hop down out of the truck into blazing sunlight, lifting a hand to shield your eyes. a lawnmower hums in the distance, the scent of fresh grass diced through the air. a sprinkler whirs a few houses down. the kids across the street giggle and split the yellow chalk in two.

on one side of your new home – a similarly polite house with a row of vibrant tulips leading up to it. reds and yellows and blushing pinks – clipped and groomed within an inch of their life, each one blooming and beautiful.

on the other – a man, stood in front of a blue house, watering his grass. he’s tall, lean. built wider the higher up his figure your eyes climb. tanned, toned arms and broad shoulders which tug at the white tee he’s wearing. a square jawline beneath a thick brown beard.

you catch his eye and lift your hand to wave.

he turns away, aiming the hose at the grass behind him.

“dick,” you whisper, slamming the door.

you jog around to the back of the truck, taking hold of the sunbaked handle. it chinks, but it doesn’t budge.

“c’mon…” you grit your teeth, rattling it again and again. “are you fucking kidding me?”

you step back, sneakers scuffing on the road, and prop your hands on your hips.

your new neighbor is still focusing intently on his grass, spewing a stream of water at the lighter patches. the longer you stare, the more grass he finds to wet.

fuck it.

“hey!”

he gives the hosepipe a jerk, shaking his free hand dry.

“excuse me?” you call, waving an arm.

the man looks up slowly, checking over his shoulder first. making damn sure there’s no one else he can pretend you’re talking to.

and unless you’re eliciting help from the fucking paw patrol across the street, he’s no escape.

“hey,” again, and then, “i’m new around – i’m moving in next door. i can’t get this stupid fucki–freakin’ door to lift. would you mind helping me? please?”

he twists the hose in his hands. you can’t tell if he’s squinting because of the sun, or actually glowering at you.

it feels like the latter, the way he throws the thing to the grass.

he stalks over, a little intimidating in his stride, eyeing you as he approaches. without a word, he wraps two big hands around the latch. he tugs once, and the door doesn’t move.

“see?” you ask, gesturing to the truck. “i bet it’s, like, older than me. might even be older than you, might…”

your neighbor pauses, eyes sliding to yours. his stare is intense – dark, stormy eyes boring into yours.

and this time – you know he’s glowering.

“it’s the heat,” he drawls, giving it another strong pull. his biceps swell, the tattered sleeves of his t-shirt stretching around them. “it’s just a little st–”

the door suddenly shunts, rolling upwards. a rickety noise until it slams at the top.

the paw patrol glance up at the sound, wrists paused. they resume doodling when your neighbor backs up.

“thank you,” you mutter, tugging on the hem of your shirt.

you push yourself up onto the back of the truck, standing amidst the fractured bones of your old apartment. a shadeless lamp here, a box of kitchen utensils there.

the guy takes half a glance at you and double takes, eyes scanning the sea of cardboard behind you. he looks you up and down and back up again – jaw tightening when he notices your hopeful expression.

“do you mind?” you ask, lifting one of the heavier boxes. “if you got somethin’ better to do…” you glance over to his yard, the hose lying in a swirl on the lawn, “…then i understand.”

he sighs, reaching for the box. his thick arms tense when the weight shifts from your grasp to his.

“thanks!” you deliberately chirp, watching his figure swagger off to your porch.

joel miller, as it turns out, is a man of few fucking words.

his name is the most you’ve been able to get out of him – and that’s only because it’s on his mailbox. he tells you nothing else.

up close, he’s graying. the lines of a decently-aged man on his skin – that, or just a miserable asshole (perhaps both). he has a syrupy southern drawl, each word riding a wave from his tongue – but with each answer he relents, he still manages to sound fucking miserable.

he seems like he might have his uses, though. he’s got some pretty good intel on the neighborhood.

“that,” he nods to the house directly across from yours, “is steve and kris’s place. they just had a baby. some nights, you can hear the kid from over here.”

“congrats,” you mutter, following his hand as it moves across the window.

“diane,” joel says. “she’s got a dog – the thing’s a little shit.”

your chin lifts. “diane, little shit,” you echo.

he nods, tongue in his cheek. he turns, hand flicking in the direction of the tulips. “alice,” he says. “let me tell you somethin’ – if there’s anything you want broadcast to every person, pet, and goddamn mailbox in the neighborhood, she’s the one to talk to.”

“nosy, huh?”

“nosy,” he agrees.

you snicker, leaning by him to glance at the swaying flowers. “but look what good care she takes of her tulips.”

“hm. ‘s all a front, you’ll see. she’s smart with it.”

joel helps you unload the rest of the truck, sliding each box across your living room floor. outside, he passes you the last couple, and then reaches up for the door.

his tee lifts ever so slightly – flashing a sliver of skin with a smatter of hair above his belt buckle. a dark trail diving into his jeans.

the sight sears itself behind your eyelids. you drag your gaze from him, bending to scoop up the lighter of the two boxes as he jumps back down. he follows at your heel towards your house again, dropping the last box right by your front door.

he says, “you need anythin’ else, just give me a holler,” but his dry tone – and the fact he’s already halfway out the door when he mumbles it – are enough to convince you that this motherfucker never wants to see your face again.

so – you skip after him, following him to your porch steps.

“nice,” you call, watching him thud down each one, “you any good with diy? i got a shit ton of ikea stuff to build.”

he turns, bottom lip between his teeth.

your eyebrows lift, heel kicking against the wooden step. “a – shit – ton,” you repeat.

joel scoffs, shaking his head. “better get to it, then.”

he wanders back over to his lawn.

[tizniz]

Inspiration Saturday ✨

Tagged by @loveyouanyway, @daffi-990, @cal-daisies-and-briars, @actualalligator, @disasterbuckdiaz, @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove, @hippolotamus, & @jesuisici33 🩵 (If I missed anyone, I'm sorry!)

Thanks for continuing to tag me in everything even if I'm mostly absent. Loving seeing what y'all are making. I wrote a lil story -- thanks to @fortheloveofbuddie for giving me the idea. And wanted to share it today along with this cute board I made. Hoping to be back to normal posting and sharing soon 🩵

Birthday Flowers (2.7K)

It all starts with a prank. A good natured one, though. The 118 liked pranks, but they had to be actually fun and not result in a big mess. So when Buck had found out that Eddie’s birthday was coming up, he started to plan.

OR: Buck gets Eddie flowers for his birthday.

READ ON A03

Sharing is caring: @actuallyitsellie, @spotsandsocks, @bucksbackwardcap, @theotherbuckley, @exhuastedpigeon, @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming, @monsterrae1, @epicbuddieficrecs, @elvensorceress, @eddiebabygirldiaz, @spagheddiediaz, @wildlife4life, @evanbegins, @devirnis, @perfectlysunny02, @nmcggg, @smilingbuckley, @watchyourbuck, @loserdiaz, @excuseme-greentea, @wikiangela, @sunshinediaz, @scknight05, @dangerpronebuddie, @kitteneddiediaz

[the-broken-pen]

Hiii, I love your writing! It's so great that you're back! Could you write something like two actors are playing hero/villain in a movie or theater, but both of them sometimes just gets too in character/or just gets too stuck in character, so for like moments they actually forget that they are just acting?

“You didn’t think I’d let you die by anyone else’s hand but mine, did you?” The villain cocked their head to the side, grinning.

Distantly, the hero registered the whispering of stage commands, but tuned it out.

“You can’t just kill anyone who threatens me,” they argued back. They watched as the villain’s grin sharpened.

“Watch me,” the villain whispered, stepping closer. Fake blood was drying on the side of the hero’s head, and it itched more than usual. Must be a new brand from costuming.

“I could arrest you,” they offered, but they let the hesitation show on their face. Visible enough for the camera to catch their unwillingness, no matter how fake it was. Good enough nobody could tell the difference between real and not.

“You won’t.”

The hero tipped one head to the side

“And why’s that?”

The hero shifted, leaning in towards the villain.

“Because you’re mine,” the villain whispered, tone playful as their eyes seared into the hero’s.

The hero’s mouth went dry. It wasn’t on purpose.

Something kindled in their chest.

“Oh yeah?”

The villain shrugged one shoulder in perfect time to the script, and the hero pulled the next line to the tip of their tongue—

“Prove it.”

That was not the next line.

That wasn’t a line at all.

The villain blinked just once, the only sign of surprise they would allow, before their grin widened. Their shoulders loosened into something feral, something that delighted in this change.

Something that belonged off-stage.

“I’m covered in the blood of the people who hurt you,” the villain’s voice was smooth sliding down the hero’s spine. They shivered. “What more proof do you want, love.”

They blushed furiously at the nickname, even underneath the stage makeup, and at the pleased look on the villain’s face, it was visible.

What was the line what was the line what—

Their hands fisted into the front of the villain’s costume, dragging them closer. The villain let them, hand settling on the hero’s waist in a movement far too smooth.

“I don’t know,” the hero murmured, and they were just as surprised as the villain when their lips hovered just over the other’s ear. “Why don’t you stop trying to kill me, for starters.”

The villain tugged them closer, and the hero’s eyes went to their lips.

The villain looked at the hero like they wanted to devour them.

Fuck, what had been the line—

“Oh, but you’re so pretty covered in blood, Hero,” the villain crooned, and the hero opened their mouth to say something, their tongue a separate entity from their brain at this point—

“Hold!” Someone off-stage called, and they both froze. A second later, they were halfway across the stage from one another. Slipping out of being the hero and back into being themself felt like hitting a brick wall.

If the way the villain shuddered was any indication, they had forgotten they were playing a character too.

The hero turned away to face the tech crew, hand settling over their face to hide their blush.

The villain’s gaze was molten and heavy on their shoulders, even from as far away as they were.

“I don’t think that’s in the blocking,” the stage manager frowned, flipping through the script.

None of that was the blocking. No matter how much the stage manager searched those pages they would never find those lines.

Fuck.

“Improv,” the hero choked out, flushing. “It was, uh. A creative choice—“

From behind one of the curtains, they heard a crew member snort, muttering something about teenage actors and horniness—

The villain was smirking, a wicked thing.

“Right,” the stage manager said slowly, brow furrowed from where they sat. They murmured something into their headset, eyes shifting up between the villain and the hero, before they slid a screen in front of themself.

Just barely, the hero could make out the shape of the scene they had just filmed.

The screen went black, the room silent for a moment, before the stage manager let out a long suffering sigh.

“We’re changing the blocking.”

“What?” The hero yelped.

The villain settled their hands into their pockets, unbothered and grinning.

“We’re keeping the scene,” the stage manager nodded towards their tablet, and the hero almost passed out on the spot. They watched the stage manager eye the pleased and possessive look on the villain’s face. “For now, though, let’s call it a wrap for the day.”

Shuffling began, lights flickering off, and the hero escaped to their own dressing room, panting slightly.

Dear god, they were so fucked. They had forgotten they were acting, again—

“Improv, hm?” The villain grinned, lock sliding into place. The hero hadn’t even heard them come in.

The hero groaned. “I don’t know what happened—“

“Yeah,” the villain nodded, and they were closer than they had been a moment ago.

The hero swallowed.

“I’m sorry.”

The villain raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

The hero waved one hand between them. “For, you know—“

The villain was still smiling.

It was then they remember who had fought so hard in the writers’ room for the villain and the hero to end up together.

‘Enemies to lovers,’ the villain had said, eyes dark. ‘The fans will love it. There’s been sub plot for the last two seasons.’

The directors had pushed back, but now—

Oh. The villain wasn’t mad.

They were pleased.

The hero choked.

“You,” the hero tried.

“Me,” the villain agreed, and then they were kissing, all-consuming and desperate.

They made a noise in the back of their throat, the villain twining their hand into the hero’s hair.

“You forgot you were acting,” the villain murmured against their lips, and kissed them again before the hero could defend themself. “That I’m not really your villain and you aren’t my hero.”

The villain settled the hero onto the counter, coming to stand between their legs, one hand on their hip.

“Fuck,” they gasped, and they could feel the villain’s grin against their skin.

“Mhm.”

Somehow, the hero’s arms had ended up looped over the villain’s shoulders.

“Maybe stop killing people, and I’ll consider it,” they said between breaths.

“What?” The villain pulled back slightly.

“The line I forgot,” the hero said. They could drown in the villain’s eyes, they were sure of it. “Maybe stop killing people—“

“Don’t care,” the villain bit out, and then their mouth was on the hero’s again and nothing else mattered.

Maybe they weren’t truly hero and villain—but god were they good at pretending.

Three months later, the internet couldn’t decide what was better—that finally, after years, the hero and villain had ended up together on screen; or that off stage, their actors were desperately, hopelessly in love too.

[blualt]

imagine if v1 and v2 could talk in game

*punching it with with the knuckleblaster* stop hitting yourself! stop hitting yourself!

im going to FUCKING KILL YOU-

[sugarpasteltmnt]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA PASTEL WTH

THAT CHAPTER SENT ME BOUNCING OFF THE WALLS HOW DARE YOU WRITE SOMETHING SO AMAZING

MUAHAHAHA!!!!

(but omg thank u so much ;w; 🩵)

[effervescentdragon]

10. "I miss you every day." Sebchal 💖

"- yeah I think he's in Chile now," Lewis says, leaning on the fence, his face turned up to the sun. "Kayaking or something."

Lando laughs and so do Valtteri and Pierre. "Good life, eh?" Valtteri says.

"If I had four championships I'd go kayaking too," Lando adds.

Charles smiles, because that's expected of him. Pierre says nothing, but he does move closer to Charles.

"Retirement suits him, I think," Lewis says. Charles can't see his eyes behind his sunglasses. "Or so it seems."

"You think he'll be back?" Lando asks. Valtteri shakes his head. Lewis shrugs. Lando turns to Charles, obviously wanting an answer from him.

"I - I don't think so," he says, keeping the smile on. There's nothing for him here, nothing he wants and can get, he doesn't say.

"He would hate Vegas," Pierre laughs. "All the show, he would hate it."

They all start talking then, reminiscing, or maybe conjecture, but Charles can't hear them anymore.

He'd love the casinos, he thinks. He loved the ones in Monaco. He almost lost his car that one night. He'd love all the gold everywhere. May even wear golden shoes, or a silly hat. A fedora. He'd love the music, the classics that I never heard of. He'd love the party, would probably drink either that vile Jäger or a Red Bull vodka. He'd taste like Red Bull when I kiss him. He'd leave sparkles all over the bed and my skin. He'd hate everything else, though. He'd hate the racing. He hates it already. He's hated it for too long.

He smiles at the crowd, his eyes tearing up in the sun under his RayBans.

-

One (1) unsent message.

To: Seb

i miss you everyday

-

One (1) unsent message.

To: Charles Leclerc

Want to go hiking in December?

[yuta-nation]

Hungry (Yuta Okkotsu)

summary: you're starving, and so is your boyfriend. you have different ideas of dinner.

content: tittysucking. i imagined a reader with average or large tits, but this should also be small titty friendly. food mentions.

wc: .4k

a/n: i watched jjk 0 for the thousandth time and yuta is a certified titman.

You lay on the couch and scrolled your phone aimlessly. Yuta was bringing dinner home with him, and you were more focused on your empty stomach than anything else. When you heard his key in the lock a few minutes later, you restrained yourself from running to the door. You were starving, but you forced yourself to remain on the couch. You could wait for your boyfriend to get through the door. Soon enough, Yuta set the food bags on the coffee table in front of you before sinking down on the couch next to you. You reached for the bag that you thought contained your food, but before your fingers could make contact, you felt hands on your hips as your boyfriend turned you to face him and placed you on his lap. 

“Yuuttaa! I’m hungry. Please let me eat.”

“Give me two minutes, baby.  I missed you.”

“But the food will get cold!”

“Is your food more important than me?”

“Yes.”

“You hurt me, sweetheart. Just let me love on you for a few minutes and I’ll feed you myself.”

“...Make it quick.”

That was all the invitation he needed to pull your sweater off of you and discard it on the couch next to you. He groaned at the sight of your exposed tits, eternally grateful for your distaste for bras. He cupped each breast in his hands, pushing them together and placing an open-mouthed kiss over each nipple. He fondled them for several more moments before his mouth latched onto your left nipple. He skillfully sucked and nipped the bud before swirling his tongue around it. His big hand played with your right tit and his hot mouth made out with for left. Once the left side of your chest was slick with spit, he switched sides, lips closing over your right nipple as his fingers rolled your left.

 As he had his way with your chest, he bucked his hips up, grinding his bulge against your core. You were lost in all the sensations, practically drowning in Yuta. You were so caught up in the feeling of your boyfriend, you didn’t hear the sound of your stomach growling. But Yuta did, breathing out a laugh at the rumble, blowing cold air over your wet tits, causing you to shiver.

“I guess I should feed you now. To be continued.”

“We can heat it up later. Finish what you started big boy.”

© PU-RE-LOVE 2023. DO NOT COPY, REPOST, SHARE, TRANSLATE, REUPLOAD, OR CLAIM MY WORKS AS YOUR OWN ON ANY OTHER SITE.

[kedsandtubesocks]

baseball spring training started & I miss Gojo so here we are lol, this is dedicated to @stellamancer @seiwas & @vigilante-izuku for always supporting my baseball Gojo brainrot, love you babes

01: change-up.

baseball player!gojo x reader

-

The weather is gorgeous.

“A wonderful day for baseball,” the lady checking your bag into the stadium even grinned when she told you that.

You don’t know baseball. Didn’t even know spring training was a thing. Yet with the amount of fans in the smaller stadium, and the cluster of photographers and news reporters lining the media area, you could’ve sworn this is a regular game.

And it’s all because of one man, the same man you met at a coffee shop.

Satoru Gojo - born on December 7 1989.

Thankfully you didn’t have to stare at the wiki page for long because every sports outlet online happily was ready to tell you more about him.

He’s considered a once in a lifetime player. He hit a home run once where the ball busted out of the Tokyo Dome. He broke a pitching record his first season in Japan’s Major leagues. He has one of the highest batting averages a pitcher can have.

As a pitcher you learn he is known for his notorious changeup.

It’s a type of pitch that relies on deception, tricks a player into believing a fast pitch approaches only for the ball to change speed and throw off the batter. You can’t wrap your mind around a ball even being able to do that.

But you couldn’t help but think how it fits Gojo. This seemingly way too tall and annoyingly charming guy turns out to be an absolute mega star of an athlete doesn’t feel real.

Because now here you are at a baseball spring training game not even knowing a single clue about the sport.

Currently waiting for the game to start, you scroll through the ESPN page and accidentally press a video attached to his section. It starts up a recent interview of him at a talk show. The sigh of him in a sleek gorgeous deep navy suit that brings out his eyes has you memorized. Then hearing him talk, hearing him laugh through your phone breaks the spell.

You quickly scramble out of the article, click away all open tabs, even clear your history and wonder if you should maybe just leave.

He did beg you to come see him, but how would he even know if you came…

That’s when the team line ups are called.

In the 00 jersey, batting second and not pitching this game, the announcement of Satoru Gojo’s name makes the crowd erupt in a frenzy shocking you.

A kid behind you, with absolute adoration in his voice, excitedly tells his dad how amazing Gojo is and how this year their team had to make it to the championship because of him.

Your eyes zone in on the man constantly trying to pay for your coffee shop order.

He even paid the poor barista to make a messy baseball sugar cookie with a sad face on it as an apology for you.

Now he struts onto the field drawing all the attention to him, yours included. It’s unfair how handsome Gojo looks in the uniform that highlights his tall frame and broad shoulders. He also wears sleek sunglasses that block his eyes.

Once on the line with the rest of his teammates, Gojo wearing the most charming smile takes off his hat and nods his head ever so slightly to the reception given to him. His face turns to skim the crowd in front of him, smiling and waving at everyone.

That is until he spots you.

You feel caught red handed and your heart hammers inside your chest so rapidly.

Suddenly Gojo slides his sunglasses down and blatantly stares at you. You regret sitting so close in the arena because now his twinkling sky blue eyes refuse to let his gaze leave yours.

Then, with the most amused grin, he winks at you and slides his glasses back on.

You’re horrified, almost squawk, and think about walking to sit on the opposing team’s side. But it’s because of all the nasty butterflies trying to infest your stomach.

Whatever was on your face, whatever reaction you made, suddenly has Gojo laughing.

It’s a bright thing he tries covering up by coughing, but you saw it. Even his teammate standing beside him notices.

Even with gorgeous weather, the wonderful energy of the crowd so eager for the game to start… watching Gojo, finally taking in this new reality in, feels like something dangerous is starting to brew in your chest.

[pedrodascal]

PSA

My name is Dee and this is me coming out as non-binary 👉🏻😎👉🏻

[dangerpronebuddie]

for buddie "i can't lose you"

Hi Nolan 🥰 (I love this one!!!) (might use it in a full fic even 👀)

"I can't lose you," Buck says, his gaze focused on the fading scar. He trails his fingertips over the raised skin, feels the warmth of Eddie beneath him. Eddie cards his fingers through the curls at the back of Buck's head, massaging lightly. "I'm still here," he says, soft but sure. Buck sniffs. "You almost weren't." Eddie wraps his arm around Buck and holds him against his chest, pulling the covers back over them after Buck had thrown them off in is his nightmare. "We can't predict what's going to happen to either of us," he says, looking into Buck's eyes. "But I will promise you that I will always fight to come home to you and Chris." Buck smiles and holds him tighter. He presses his lips to the scar that eventually brought them together. "You know I will too." Eddie presses a kiss to his curls. "Yeah, I know you will."

Send a ship and a sentence and I'll continue it!

[dilfhos]

i feel a lot of yall that say they hate mahito are pre -tty comfy on that wagon. pretty sure some of yall would deep down let that him worm-wiggle in ur cooch. would probably let them dozen or so wiggling hands feel on you too. imagine the many touches he could leave with his mouth alone. or ur just scared to admit it and its okay. its okay you refuse to look closely at the chisel denting his torso. at the off guard pretty glances or the hair akin to a dead raccoon’s tail. maybe his luscious lashes fr turn you off or the pathetic way he giggles. its okay. his home isn’t much either, but its honest work if you kick away the rat bones to the other side, then its okay. he won’t be able to defend you either, but if you’re strong enough to be near him that’s okay!

see its okay 😌🧘‍♀️ you’re safe now. put down your pitchfork.

[tizniz]

Tease Tidbit Tuesday 💫

Tagged by Hippo, @theotherbuckley & @bidisasterevankinard

For @hippolotamus 🩵 Hope you have the most wonderful day, my darling.

Buck's Surprise (2.4K)

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going yet?” Buck asks as he plays with Eddie’s finger, whose arm is stretched across the middle console to rest in his husband’s lap, more than content to feel Buck’s calloused fingers run along his palm. “Nope.” Eddie replies with a grin. His eyes are hidden behind his sunglasses, which means Buck doesn’t see him glance over and catch the way Buck’s nose wrinkles, “Baby, it’s worth it, I promise.” “This is cruel and mean and cruel.” Buck whines, tilting his head back against the headrest.

Eddie surprises Buck with a special trip to the zoo.

READ ON A03

NP tagging: @actualalligator, @actuallyitsellie, @perfectlysunny02, @spotsandsocks, @fortheloveofbuddie, @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove, @daffi-990, @jesuisici33, @cal-daisies-and-briars, @exhuastedpigeon, @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming, @monsterrae1, @epicbuddieficrecs, @elvensorceress, @eddiebuckley-diaz, @eddiebabygirldiaz, @wildlife4life, @evanbegins, @devirnis, @loveyouanyway, @smilingbuckley, @watchyourbuck, @loserdiaz, @excuseme-greentea, @wikiangela, @scknight05, @dangerpronebuddie, @kitteneddiediaz, @incorrect9-1-1, @underwaterninja13, @bigfootsmom, @mountedeverest