#how did it even get into that ruin in the first place

[jkwrites-m]

Daddy Kookie (2)

Pairing: idol!Jungkook x female reader

Genre: childhood lovers to exes to lovers, parents au, idol au, smut, angst, fluff

Word Count: 6.4k

Summary: After Jungkook dropped all contact, Y/N was left broken - and pregnant. Seven years later, fate brings them back together.

Warnings: MDNI, Explicit, 18+, smut, angst, abandonment, young (teenage) pregnancy, unintentional parental neglect, resentment, fighting, boundaries, guilt, burnout, anxiety, confessions, reunions, slapping, anger, heartbreak, cursing, struggle, explicit: PRAISING, kissing, missionary, tension, pillow talk, unprotected sex

A/N: here’s what was originally the ending of part one but for some reason i can’t post that many blocks 😒 so here’s the “part 2”.

MASTERPOST ♡ MASTERLIST

prev ♡ next

═══════

I found Namjoon in the hotel gym that night.

He was alone, earbuds in, pacing the far side of the room with a water bottle tucked under one arm, muttering rehearsal notes to himself like he always did before a show. I stood in the doorway for a solid minute before I said anything.

He saw me in the mirror first.

Pulled out one earbud.

“You alright?” he asked.

“No.”

He nodded once and didn’t press me.

Just set down his bottle and motioned toward the bench press like, sit.

I sat.

And for a while, neither of us said a word.

“I met with her this morning,” I said finally, my voice rough from not speaking since the show.

Namjoon didn’t ask who.

He just waited.

“I asked for an hour. She gave me exactly that.”

I rubbed my hands together. My legs were bouncing, and I couldn’t stop.

“I thought I was ready to see her. But I wasn’t.”

Still, Namjoon said nothing.

“She has a daughter.”

His brows lifted just slightly, but he didn’t interrupt.

“She’s mine,” I added. “Her name is Eun Ae.”

That got him.

Namjoon blinked slowly and sat down on the bench across from me. “You’re a dad?”

I nodded. “I didn’t know. I- God, hyung, I blocked her. She tried to tell me and I just… I disappeared.”

He sighed but didn’t scold me.

I think that made it worse.

“She raised her alone,” I said. “Worked. Went to school. Everything. No help. And I was here, living my dream while she was raising my kid and barely surviving.”

“You didn’t know,” Namjoon said carefully.

“I should’ve.”

“That’s true.”

I buried my face in my hands. “She’s giving me one chance. Tomorrow. At the zoo. I get to meet her - meet my daughter - for the first time and I don’t even know how to breathe around the thought of it.”

He let me sit in the silence for a beat.

Then: “What are you most scared of?”

“That she’ll hate me.”

Namjoon’s gaze softened.

“That she’ll ask me where I’ve been,” I whispered, “and I won’t know how to answer.”

“You don’t have to have all the answers,” he said. “You just have to show up. That’s what matters now.”

“I want to be in her life,” I said. “I want to earn it. I want to be someone she can count on. Not someone she has to recover from.”

Namjoon nodded slowly. “That’s a good place to start.”

“And Y/N…” My voice cracked. “I still love her.”

“I know.”

“I don’t expect her to forgive me. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But I want her to see that I’m not the same kid who left.”

“You’re not,” he said.

I looked up at him. “What if I ruin it again?”

“Then you don’t,” Namjoon said. “You show up. You listen. You apologize. You be present. And if they don’t let you in, you keep showing up until they do- or until they tell you to stop. Either way, you stay honest.”

I nodded, swallowing hard.

“Thanks, hyung.”

He gave a tired smile. “Get some sleep. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

I didn’t sleep much.

But I dreamed of a little girl with my eyes.

And Y/N beside her.

═══════

It was her idea to wear her tiger hoodie.

“Because we’re going to the zoo,” she said, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.

I tied her shoelaces twice- her feet wouldn’t stop bouncing- then stood up and stared at her for a moment too long.

“Mama?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you nervous?”

A pause.

“No,” I said. “I’m just thinking.”

It wasn’t a lie. I was thinking. About everything.

About how I swore he’d never meet her. About how easily I’d broken that rule yesterday. About how I’d watched his hands tremble when I said the word daughter.

He didn’t cry, not fully.

But he looked like someone who had finally understood what it meant to break something that couldn’t be fixed.

I kept that image close as I buckled her into her booster seat and drove to the zoo.

He was already waiting by the entrance.

Sunglasses. Mask. Hoodie. Head tucked down.

It should’ve made him look anonymous.

It didn’t.

Even behind all that, he looked unmistakably like him.

And when Eun Ae saw him, she didn’t pause.

She ran.

Full-speed. Straight up to him like she’d known him her whole life.

“Hi!” she chirped. “I’m Eun Ae. Are you the friend Mama said we’re meeting?”

He knelt down slowly.

I watched his fingers shake as he pulled the mask down from his face.

“Yeah,” he said, voice cracking. “I’m… I’m Jungkook.”

“That’s a funny name,” she giggled. “Can I call you Mr. Kookie?”

He let out a short, stunned laugh.

“Sure,” he said, clearing his throat. “You can call me that.”

She grabbed his hand like it was nothing. Like it was normal.

Like this hadn’t been six years coming.

I followed a few steps behind them, unsure what to do with my arms, my heart, my breath.

They moved together easily.

Too easily.

He matched her pace. Let her pick which exhibits to visit. Lifted her onto his shoulders to see the giraffes. Bought her a pretzel and wiped the cheese off her face without hesitation. They laughed at the same things. Tilted their heads the same way when they were curious. Chewed the straw of their drinks when they were thinking.

They were mirrors.

And I was the frame- holding it all together, barely.

At the tiger enclosure, Eun Ae pressed her palms to the glass and gasped.

“They’re so cool!” she shouted. “I want one!”

“They’re a little big for a pet,” Jungkook said, crouching next to her.

“I’d teach it tricks.”

“I bet you would.”

There was a pause. Then she asked the question I’d been dreading.

“Did you know my mom when she was my age?”

Jungkook blinked.

I tensed.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I did.”

“Was she weird like me?”

“She was perfect,” he said. “Exactly like you.”

She grinned. “So… super weird?”

He laughed, and I heard something in it that sounded like mourning.

Later, while she climbed a small jungle gym near the café, I sat beside him on the bench.

He didn’t speak at first.

Just watched her, eyes full of things I didn’t want to name.

“She’s incredible,” he whispered.

“I know.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“You already said that.”

“I’ll say it again,” he said. “As many times as you need.”

We sat in silence for a long time.

Then I heard my voice say something I hadn’t planned.

“You’re good with her.”

He turned to me, surprised.

“She doesn’t know who you are,” I added. “But she likes you.”

“I’m glad.”

“She’s never had… that. A male figure. Anyone to play like that with.”

He looked away. “That’s my fault.”

I didn’t correct him.

He reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled something out.

A little stuffed tiger.

“I bought this on the way here,” he said, holding it up. “I didn’t know if I’d get to give it to her.”

She ran back to us just then, sweaty and smiling.

Jungkook knelt again and held out the tiger.

“For you.”

Her eyes lit up.

“Thanks, Mr. Kookie!”

She hugged him. No hesitation.

He closed his eyes like the moment hurt in a way he needed.

═══════

That night, after Eun Ae was tucked into bed, I sat on the couch with a blanket around my shoulders and my phone pressed to my ear.

The apartment was quiet.

Too quiet.

Like the kind of quiet that presses in on your skin and makes your thoughts louder than they should be.

“She hugged him,” I whispered.

My best friend on the other end of the line didn’t speak. She waited. She always did.

“She hugged him like she’d known him her whole life. Like he hadn’t missed anything. Like he hadn’t disappeared.”

I wiped under my eyes with the edge of my sleeve.

“And he was… good with her. Gentle. Patient. Funny. Like he’d been waiting his whole life to meet her. Like he already loved her.”

“You sound surprised,” my friend said.

“I am,” I confessed. “I don’t want to be. But I am.”

There was a pause.

“You still love him,” she said.

I closed my eyes.

“Don’t,” I said softly. “Please.”

“Y/N-”

“I can’t afford to love him,” I whispered. “Not again. Not after what he did.”

The words came out raw and wet and cracked.

“I spent years hating him,” I said. “Years trying to forget the way he looked at me, the way he kissed me, the way he made me believe in things that never came true. And today, I watched him hold our daughter’s hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, and I…This could’ve been real. This life. This moment. All of it. If he had just… stayed.”

I swallowed the sob that threatened.

“I didn’t feel anger. I didn’t feel hate. I felt… sad. And full. And furious. And terrified. All at once.”

“You’re allowed to feel all of that.”

“I know. But it doesn’t make it easier.”

She didn’t say anything for a while.

Then: “Do you think he still loves you?”

I laughed. Quiet and bitter. “He says he does.”

“And do you believe him?”

I looked out the window. The city lights blinked back like stars caught in a snow globe.

“I believe he thinks he does,” I said. “But I don’t know if he loves me- who I am now. Not the girl he left behind.”

“You don’t have to decide anything now.”

“I don’t want to decide anything,” I said. “I just want to breathe again.”

I hung up after that.

Tucked my phone under the blanket and rested my head on the arm of the couch. My eyes closed. My chest ached. I felt heavy and hollow and full of fire all at the same time.

And then I heard it.

A shuffle.

A creak of the hallway floorboard.

I turned.

Jungkook stood there, just outside the door frame, his hand against the wall like he needed it to hold himself up.

He hadn’t knocked.

He hadn’t said a word.

He just looked at me like he’d walked straight into the center of a storm he hadn’t seen coming.

“You heard all that,” I said, my voice flat.

He didn’t deny it.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

“I didn’t mean to,” he said quietly. “I was bringing back the little drawing she made. She left it in my jacket pocket. I was going to knock. I just… heard you.”

I sat up slowly.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know.”

He didn’t budge.

“Y/N,” he said softly, voice shaking. “I love you. Not just the girl I left. Not some idea. You. Right now. All of it.”

And then he crossed the room.

Without another word, he bent down and kissed me.

Soft and sure and shaking all at once.

And for one second - just one - I kissed him back.

It was like breathing again for the first time in years. Like lightning. Like a heartbeat I didn’t know I missed.

But then I pulled back.

And I slapped him.

Hard.

He didn’t even flinch.

“You can’t just do that,” I said, my voice rising. “You don’t get to walk in here, say I love you, and kiss me like it erases what you did.”

“I know,” he said, eyes shining. “I know it doesn’t fix anything. I just needed you to know it’s real.”

A long silence stretched between us.

He finally set the folded piece of paper on the table.

It was a crayon drawing. Stick figures. A tiger. The word “KOOKIE” spelled backwards across the top.

“I’ll go,” he said, stepping back. “But… thank you. For today.”

He turned and walked out before I could say a word.

And I sat there, hands shaking, heart a mess, trying not to chase after him.

Because no matter how much I wanted to…

I didn’t know if I could survive loving him again.

═══════

I didn’t mean to kiss her.

I meant to leave.

I meant to say those words and walk away like a man who’d learned his lesson. Who knew better now.

But when I looked at her- sitting on that couch, eyes full of grief and strength- I forgot what I was supposed to do.

And when her lips touched mine back… for that brief, burning second, I thought maybe I wasn’t too late.

But then she slapped me.

And she was right to.

I walked out shortly after. The drawing Eun Ae made was still on the table. The door shut behind me like punctuation on a sentence I’d rewritten too many times in my head.

I didn’t go to my room.

I went to Namjoon’s.

He was still up, writing in a leather-bound notebook like always. When he opened the door and saw my face, he didn’t ask. Just moved aside to let me in.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my hands gripping the hem of my hoodie.

“She still hates me,” I said.

Namjoon didn’t reply. Just waited.

“I heard her talking to someone. On the phone. After the zoo.” I exhaled shakily. “She said it could’ve been real. The life. The moment. If I had just stayed.”

My voice cracked.

“She’s right,” I said. “It could’ve been. I destroyed everything.”

Namjoon sat in the chair across from me, elbows on his knees. “You didn’t destroy everything.”

“I kissed her,” I admitted.

That got a raised eyebrow.

“She kissed me back. For a second. Then she slapped me.”

Namjoon didn’t flinch. “You probably deserved it.”

“I definitely deserved it.”

I leaned forward, elbows on my thighs, head in my hands.

“She thinks I’m just showing up now because of Eun Ae. But it’s not that. I was going to try before I even knew. I swear. I just… I still love her. That never went away.”

“I know,” Namjoon said. “We all do.”

“She said she doesn’t know if I love who she is now. Not the girl I left behind.”

“Do you?”

“Yes,” I said immediately. “She’s stronger. Sharper. She’s everything I wish I’d grown up fast enough to deserve.”

Namjoon nodded slowly.

“Then show her,” he said. “Not with words. You’ve said enough. Do something.”

“Like what?”

“Think,” he said. “What did she love? What mattered to her?”

I blinked.

“Wildflowers,” I said. “She always picked the ugly ones growing out of sidewalk cracks. Said they were survivors.”

Namjoon smiled. “Then that’s where you start.”

I nodded, a lump forming in my throat.

“I’m going to show up,” I said. “Every day. Until she tells me not to. Or until she believes me.”

“Good,” Namjoon said. “And Jungkook?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not a piece of shit. You were a scared kid who made a selfish mistake. Now you’re a man who has to own it.”

I nodded again.

I wasn’t running anymore.

Tomorrow, I’d bring her flowers.

Not roses.

Not something expensive or flashy.

Just wildflowers.

The ones that survive.

═══════

He didn’t text the next morning.

Didn’t call.

Didn’t knock.

But when I opened the door to take out the trash, there was a bouquet of wildflowers on the step.

No note.

No explanation.

Just color.

Simple and honest.

I stared at them for a long time before I brought them inside.

I didn’t put them in a vase.

Not yet.

Eun Ae noticed them instantly.

“Oooh, are those for you?”

“Yeah,” I said, almost under my breath.

“From Mr. Kookie?”

I froze.

She giggled. “He smells like sunshine.”

I blinked. “What?”

“His hoodie. It smelled like sunshine. And gum.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

She took one of the smaller stems from the bouquet and tucked it behind my ear before skipping off to play.

═══════

The next day, he didn’t bring flowers.

He brought her a book.

One of those thick picture books with a glittery cover and a dragon on the front. She shrieked like she’d won the lottery. He handed it to her without a word and let her read to him, even though she kept skipping pages and making up half the story.

He didn’t flinch.

Didn’t correct her.

He just smiled like it was the best thing he’d ever heard.

I watched from the kitchen, trying not to feel anything.

Trying to stay steady.

Trying not to remember the way his hand had felt on my cheek when he kissed me.

And the sting of my own palm after.

═══════

The third day, he showed up with both- flowers for me, a new stuffed animal (a bunny this time) for her, and takeout from my favorite noodle place.

He didn’t ask to stay.

Just handed it over, bowed, and walked away.

I didn’t stop him.

But I didn’t close the door right away either.

═══════

The fourth day, he didn’t come.

And I hated how I noticed.

How the absence felt like a missing rhythm in my day. A skipped beat.

I told myself it was good. Smart. Necessary.

That space was healthy.

But then he texted.

Jungkook: Didn’t want to crowd you today. Just… wanted you to know I’m here.

I didn’t reply.

But I stared at that message for a long time.

═══════

The fifth day, he came by again. This time he asked if we wanted to go for ice cream.

Eun Ae screamed like he’d asked her to Disneyland.

I tried to say no.

I did.

But my mouth betrayed me.

“Okay,” I said. “Just an hour.”

He didn’t smile like he won.

He smiled like it hurt to be that grateful.

We walked to the corner shop with her bouncing between us. He let her pick his flavor. She made him get bubblegum. He pretended to like it. I knew he didn’t.

He caught me watching him.

And didn’t look away.

That night, after she was in bed, I sat on the same couch, stared at the same wall, and whispered into the dark:

“I don’t know if I’m ready.”

And I meant it.

I wasn’t ready.

Not yet.

But I also wasn’t closing the door anymore.

Not all the way.

═══════

I should’ve known it was too good to last.

The morning started perfect.

Too perfect.

Jungkook showed up with matching zoo t-shirts he found online. One for him, one for Eun Ae. Hers said “Mini Tiger.” His said “Big Tiger.”

She laughed for five straight minutes and made him wear it out in public.

I rolled my eyes and told him he was shameless.

He just grinned and handed me a coffee with two extra espresso shots- exactly the way I liked it.

“Trying to bribe me?” I asked.

“Maybe.”

I didn’t smile.

But my fingers brushed his on accident when I took the cup.

And I didn’t pull away.

We took Eun Ae to the botanical gardens. Let her feed koi fish and run across wooden bridges with her stuffed tiger tucked under one arm. Jungkook stayed close the entire time. Carrying her backpack, tying her shoe when it came undone, wiping ice cream off her face.

It almost looked like a family. 

Almost.

We sat on the grass to rest before lunch, and she ran over to the koi pond like it was a different world.

“She’s so comfortable with you,” I said, trying not to let it sound like an accusation.

“I’m glad,” he said. “I want her to be.”

There was a quiet pause.

Then he looked at me and said something that should’ve been sweet.

But it wasn’t.

“She’s just like you, you know.”

I blinked.

“She’s strong and stubborn and always needs to be right. She even talks with her hands like you do- ”

“Don’t,” I said, sharper than I meant to.

He froze. “What?”

“Don’t compare us like that.”

“I wasn’t- I meant it as a good thing-”

“She’s not a mirror, Jungkook,” I snapped. “She’s a person. Her own person.”

“I know that,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean it like- ”

“You weren’t around. You don’t know what she’s like. You’ve seen her for what? A week? You don’t get to analyze her like you raised her.”

His mouth opened. Then closed.

And I saw something shift in his eyes.

Something small and hurt.

Then a tiny voice interrupted us.

“I’m sorry,” Eun Ae whispered.

We both turned.

She was standing by the fish pond again, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“I didn’t mean to make you mad,” she sniffled. “I’ll be good.”

“No,” I said quickly, moving toward her. “Baby, no. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

She clung to me like her little heart might explode.

I scooped her up and pressed her to my chest.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, voice thick. “I’m not mad at you. I promise. You didn’t do anything.”

She looked over my shoulder at Jungkook. “Are you mad too?”

He shook his head, eyes glassy. “No, sweetheart. Never.”

“I just wanted to have a nice day,” she mumbled.

My throat tightened.

“I know,” I whispered.

We sat on the bench together for a long time after that.

No one said much.

═══════

Eun Ae fell asleep in the car on the way home, and Jungkook carried her inside like muscle memory. He tucked her into bed without needing directions, covered her with her favorite blanket, and kissed the crown of her head before stepping back like it hurt to walk away.

Neither of us said much after that.

He left for the venue early that night to prep for their final concert.

I stood in the hallway after he left, hand pressed against the door, heart aching like it was made of split seams and bad timing.

I didn’t cry.

But I wanted to.

Because I knew this was what I did.

Push away before I could be left again.

═══════

The stadium vibrated under my feet.

Screams rolled like thunder across the roof, and I could feel the beat of the music reverberating through the concrete backstage walls.

It was the final night of BTS’s residency.

Everything was fire.

Everything was electric.

Everything was right- except me.

I stood at the main comms table with a headset snug against my ears, spitting rapid-fire cues to the light techs, the camera ops, and the runners, my voice a metronome of control.

“Camera C, pan stage right. Cue smoke burst. Light rig alpha, wait two seconds on drop- no, two seconds, not four-”

My tone was clipped. My spine straight.

On the outside, I looked like I had it together.

But I could feel it.

The crack behind my ribs. The pulse behind my eyes. The way I flinched every time his voice cut through the speakers.

Every note he sang.

Every lyric he poured his soul into.

It hurt.

I told myself I didn’t care.

I told myself I was over it.

But every time the lights shifted and his silhouette appeared, I remembered the way he’d looked when he kissed me and the way he’d stayed when I slapped him.

I remembered how his voice broke when he said, “I love you. Right now. All of it.”

I remembered the way he meant it.

And I remembered how much that terrified me.

“Y/N?” someone called in my ear. “Spotlight three needs confirmation. We’re doing the slow solo bridge in thirty.”

I blinked, the fog in my head thick.

“Copy that,” I said quickly. “Cue in thirty. Confirm on bridge.”

I watched the monitors as he stepped up to the center of the stage.

Alone.

Golden lights haloed around him. Fans screamed his name from every direction.

And he sang.

Not just to them.

I knew that voice.

I knew when it was for the crowd…

…and when it was for me.

My hands curled into fists at my sides.

Stop it.

Don’t romanticize this.

Don’t soften.

But I did.

I always did.

Every time his voice cracked. Every time he hit a note like it cost him a piece of himself.

He looked straight into the lens during the final chorus- the one that streamed to every screen in the arena.

It was almost too direct.

Too intentional.

And in that moment, I knew.

He wasn’t singing to a sea of strangers.

He was singing to me.

The cue ended. The screen faded to black. Lights cut. Screams exploded.

My heart thudded harder than the bass.

I turned away from the monitor and pulled off my headset.

I needed air.

The crew backstage was already preparing for encore. The guys were offstage hydrating, catching their breath, prepping for the last two songs.

I slipped through a side door and stepped out into the shadowed corridor by the loading dock. It was cold. Quiet. The noise of the crowd muffled by thick walls.

I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes.

I didn’t want this to hurt.

But it did.

I didn’t want to care.

But I did.

And worst of all?

I didn’t want to want him.

But God, I did.

═══════

The cheers were still echoing in my bones.

My shirt clung to my back, soaked through with sweat. My hair was dripping. My lungs were still catching up.

But all I could think about was her.

I didn’t see her once during the show. Not backstage. Not in the wings. Not even in the flashes of tech crew darting through shadows.

But I felt her.

Like gravity.

Like silence.

Like a missing beat in the rhythm I couldn’t get right.

I sat alone in the dressing room while the rest of the guys laughed and recapped their favorite fan chants. Jimin had his feet on the table, Taehyung was dancing shirtless with a can of soda, and Jin was complaining about the confetti in his hair.

But I couldn’t join them.

I couldn’t even smile.

My hands trembled as I unlaced my boots. My knees bounced restlessly. My throat was dry, but I couldn’t drink anything.

Because all I could hear was her voice.

“You don’t know what she’s like.”

“You weren’t around.”

“You don’t get to analyze her like you raised her.”

She was right.

Every word.

I’d tried so hard to connect, I didn’t realize I was stepping on landmines she’d spent years trying to bury.

I messed it up.

Again.

“Yo,” Namjoon said, stepping into the room and tossing me a towel. “You good?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“You’re lying.”

I sighed. “I know.”

He sat down across from me, cracking open a bottle of water and sliding one my way.

“She didn’t talk to me tonight,” I said.

“You talk to her?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then maybe she’s waiting.”

“Or maybe she’s done.”

Namjoon didn’t say anything to that. He just leaned back and looked at me with those eyes that saw way too much.

“Do you regret it?” he asked.

I blinked. “Regret what?”

“Kissing her.”

I hesitated.

“No,” I said. “Not for a second.”

“She kissed you back.”

“Just for a second.”

“But she did,” he said. “And that means something.”

“Does it?”

He nodded. “It means she hasn’t closed the door. She’s just scared to open it.”

I stared at the floor.

“I don’t want to scare her,” I whispered. “I just want to show her that I’m not that kid anymore. That I’m not running. That I’m here. I’m here.”

Namjoon leaned forward. “Then tell her. Really tell her. Not to fix things. Not to beg. Just to say it. Say what you didn’t back then.”

I nodded slowly.

“We’re leaving tomorrow,” I said. 

“Then tonight’s your last chance.”

“I don’t know if she’ll open the door.”

“Then knock anyway.”

I looked up.

“I’m scared,” I admitted. “If she sends me away, I don’t know if I’ll recover.”

“She won’t send you away,” he said. “Not if you’re honest. Not if you’re real.”

I took a deep breath.

I was real.

I was terrified.

But I was real.

═══════

I didn’t ask what he was doing here.

I didn’t ask why he looked like he hadn’t slept in days or why his fingers were twitching at his sides like they didn’t know how to be still.

I just watched as he stepped inside my apartment, slowly, like the floor might vanish beneath him and closed the door behind him with a soft click.

He stood there for a long time.

Like he couldn’t find the words.

Like if he said the wrong thing, I’d vanish.

I leaned against the wall and waited.

He finally looked up.

“I didn’t know how to leave this city without seeing you again.”

I didn’t reply.

“I’m not asking for anything,” he said. “Not your forgiveness. Not a second chance. Not some happy ending I don’t deserve. I just… I need you to know.”

His voice cracked.

“I need you to know that I never stopped loving you.”

My breath caught.

“I didn’t leave because I stopped. I left because I was scared. And young. And stupid. And then I was ashamed. So ashamed I couldn’t even look at myself. So I blocked you. I shut you out. Because every time I thought of you, I remembered what I threw away.”

My throat burned.

“You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known,” he said. “And you raised our daughter without me. You built a life, a home, a future- and I wasn’t there. I missed her first words. Her first steps. Her birthdays. I missed everything.”

Tears welled in his eyes.

“I don’t deserve to be her dad. I don’t deserve to even stand in this hallway. But I’m here. And if there’s even the smallest piece of you that believes I could be more than what I was-”

He stopped.

Swallowed hard.

“-then I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it.”

The silence that followed felt like thunder.

And then I whispered, “You don’t get to walk back in and say the right thing and expect it to fix the past.”

“I know,” he said, hoarse.

“But…”

He looked up.

“But you said the right thing anyway.”

And then I stepped toward him.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t even breathe.

Until I reached for him.

And he broke.

His hands cupped my face like I was something fragile, like I was glass, like he wasn’t sure if I’d let him keep holding me.

And when he kissed me- this time- I didn’t slap him.

I kissed him back.

Hard. Messy. Real.

It wasn’t slow.

It wasn’t soft.

It was years of ache and regret and longing that had nowhere else to go.

His hoodie came off, tossed aside like it was nothing, and mine followed, sliding to the floor in a forgotten heap.

Hands found skin like they were remembering. His fingers traced the curve of my waist, the dip of my spine, like he was mapping me again, reclaiming territory he’d lost. 

My back hit the hallway wall, the cold plaster a stark contrast to the heat of his body pressing against mine. He kissed down my neck, his breath hot and ragged, and whispered, 

“I missed you so much. I missed this. I missed you.”

I moaned into his mouth, my hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. We stumbled toward the bedroom, shedding layers like they were shackles, breathless and desperate. 

The bed creaked beneath us as he lowered me onto it, his weight hovering above me, his eyes searching mine like he needed permission.

“This okay?” he asked, barely above a whisper, his voice raw with need and uncertainty. I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest, but he needed more. 

“Say it.”

“Yes,” I whispered.

He didn’t hesitate. His lips found mine again, hungry and demanding, but his hands were gentle, reverent, like he was worshipping me. He kissed his way down my body, pausing at my breasts, his tongue tracing the curve of my nipples, his lips murmuring praises against my skin. 

“God, I missed these. So fucking beautiful.”

I arched into his touch, my breath hitching as his hands slid down my thighs, his fingers brushing the edge of my panties. He hooked them with a single finger, pulling them down slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. 

“You’re so perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “Always were.”

He kissed his way back up, his lips brushing mine before trailing down my neck, his hands roaming over my body like he was memorizing every inch. 

“I’ve thought about this every day,” he confessed, his breath hot against my ear. “Every. Fucking. Day.”

I reached for him, my hands tracing the lean muscles of his back, the ink of his tattoo sleeve, the piercings that glinted under the dim light. He was solid and real, and I couldn’t stop touching him, like I needed to prove he was here, that this was real.

He shifted above me, his eyes dark with need, and I felt him, hard and insistent against my thigh. 

“I need you,” he growled, his voice rough, his hands gripping my hips. “Now.”

I nodded, my heart racing, my body aching for him. He didn’t waste another second. He entered me slowly, his eyes locked on mine, his breath catching as he filled me completely. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, his forehead resting against mine. “You feel so good.”

He began to move, slow and deliberate, his hips rocking into mine, his hands gripping my thighs like he was anchoring himself to me. 

“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice low and demanding, and I obeyed, my eyes meeting his, holding his gaze as he thrust deeper, harder.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his lips brushing mine with each movement. “So perfect.”

His words sent shivers down my spine, his praise fueling the fire burning between us. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him closer, meeting his thrusts with my own, our bodies moving in perfect sync. 

“Jungkook,” I gasped, my nails digging into his back, my voice breaking as pleasure coiled tight in my core.

He growled, his pace quickening, his hands gripping my hips tighter, his control slipping. “Cum for me, baby. Let me feel it.”

His words were my undoing. My walls clenched around him, my body trembling as my orgasm crashed over me, waves of pleasure washing through me, my breath catching in a sharp cry. “Jungkook!”

He whispered into my neck, his lips brushing my skin, his voice hoarse and desperate. “I love you. I love you so much.”

His words were a balm, a salve to wounds I didn’t realize were still raw. I clung to him, my fingers digging into his back, my body still trembling as he followed me over the edge, his thrusts becoming frantic, his breath ragged against my skin. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his voice breaking as he came, his body shuddering above me, his release a sharp, primal sound.

He collapsed onto me, his weight heavy but comforting, his breath hot against my neck. For a moment, we just lay there, our hearts pounding in unison, our bodies still joined, the silence thick with unspoken emotions.

He brushed my hair back and kissed my forehead.

“I’m not going anywhere this time,” he said, voice trembling.

I didn’t answer.

But I didn’t ask him to leave either.

And that was enough.

For now.

═══════

I woke up to the sound of his breathing.

Slow. Steady.

It filled the room like the soft hum of a song I hadn’t heard in years.

For a moment, I didn’t open my eyes.

I just listened.

Soaked in the weight of him next to me. The warmth of his arm draped around my waist. The rise and fall of his chest behind my back. His hand, large and gentle, resting against my ribs like he was afraid I’d disappear if he let go.

The light was pale through the blinds. Morning had barely begun.

But the ache in my chest already knew it was time.

I turned over slowly.

He was already awake.

Watching me.

Not smiling. Not saying anything.

Just looking.

Like this was the first morning of his life that made sense.

I searched his face for hesitation.

There wasn’t any.

Just quiet awe.

And something softer than I knew what to do with.

“You didn’t sleep,” I whispered.

“Didn’t want to.”

I blinked. “Why not?”

He reached up and brushed a strand of hair from my cheek.

“Didn’t want to miss this.”

My throat tightened.

I looked away.

“You’re leaving today.”

It wasn’t a question.

He nodded. “My flight’s in four hours.”

I swallowed.

“Will you tell her?”

He nodded again. “I want to. When you’re ready.”

“I don’t know when that’ll be.”

“I’ll wait.”

I looked back at him.

He meant it.

“I don’t know what this is,” I said softly.

“Me neither,” he replied. “But I want to find out.”

Silence stretched between us like thread.

“Can I see you before I go?” he asked.

“You’re seeing me now.”

He smiled. Just barely. “After I pack. Before the airport.”

I didn’t say yes.

But I didn’t say no.

He leaned in and kissed me once- just once- like he didn’t want to ask for more than I could give.

Then he pulled back, exhaled, and whispered:

“I’m so in love with you.”

I didn’t say it back.

But I didn’t need to.

Because he pressed his forehead to mine, closed his eyes, and stayed there for a long time.

And when he finally pulled away, when he slipped out of bed and gathered his things, I watched him with something heavy and quiet in my chest.

Not fear.

Not anger.

Something like hope.

And when Eun Ae woke an hour later and asked where Mr. Kookie was, I smiled, just a little, and said:

“He’s not gone. Not really.”

Because for the first time in years…

I believed it.

═══════

Post A/N: dont hate me 😭 there’s still so much to their story

prev ♡ next

MASTERPOST ♡ MASTERLIST

♡ requests are welcome ♡ taglist ♡

These characters are fictional and do not represent any real-life individuals. Their likeness is used solely for visual inspiration and does not reflect the actual person or their story.

═══════

Posted: 06/24/2025

Taglist: @mar-lo-pap @lovingkoalaface @whoa-jo @kiliskywalker666 @sucker4jeon @annpeachy-blog @kaiparkerwifes @nikkinikj @elithenium @asyr97 @heyinwluv85s @jjkluver7 @bammbi-jeon127 @kookoo-kachoo @angelsdecalcomania @kayswatanabe @granataepfelchen @kelsyx33 @tatamicc @blubird592 @llallaaa @chromietriestowrite @k1ll1ngcl0wns @jahnaviii @mfsitscho @traumaanatomy @mellyyyyyyx @yu-justme @bangtaniess @xmiaacxio @emmie2308 @magicalnachocreator @suker4angst @dragonflygurl4 @taetaecatboy @somehowukook @iiamnotsure @lavender2ari @busanbby-jjk @prilnextdoor23 @ecomidnight @cuntessaiii @jungshaking @nbjch05 @baechugff @jakiki94 @songbyeonkim

[pixie-felix]

O V U L A T I N G

So this drabble has been coming up a lot in my notifications recently so I thought I'd try and write a proper fic for it :) unfortunately I kinda got carried away with the crack, so when it came to the Chan smut the tonal shift was pretty jarring. I got bored trying to make it work and then I got sick of looking at it, so I figured I'd stop stressing about it and just post it in two parts 💁‍♀️

Thank you @a-jazzy-bitch for reading through this and convincing me to keep in the notes I wrote when I was half asleep.

wc: 1.7k genre: cracksmut summary: poly!ot8 x fem!reader lore with condoms galore. so much safe sex. Channie would be proud if he wasn't so pissed at Seungmin. explicit warnings under the cut (they're mostly silly).

explicit warnings: mentions of han’s freaky rodent libido, jeongin being a (literal) sneaky fucker, [redacted] bottoming for the maknae, felix x you x seungmin spitroast, flavoured condoms, ovulating makes you crazy horny.

Once upon a time, Chan would have been embarrassed about buying sixteen boxes of condoms at once. He’d tried to get away with just eight before: one for each member.

One box each seemed reasonable, right? 

But then Han’s freaky rodent libido had kicked in, and he’d gotten through his box so fast he started stealing condoms from the other guys. Chaos had ensued. Arguments about fairness, accusations of favouritism. Tempers had flared, fists had been raised. 

Moms had been mentioned. 

And the whole time you were a needy, horny little mess, whimpering and whining for someone to just shut up and fuck you. Begging like you’d been cock starved for fifty years.

Chan was almost proud of Jeongin, the way he used the argument to his advantage. Quietly sliding over to you and gently lifting you up so he could dress his cock with your cunt, while the others almost came to blows. The way he rolled his hips gently, murmuring no donut filth into your ear while you tried to stay quiet. 

You've always been bad at keeping quiet. Especially with Jeongin. Chan understands, he bottomed for the maknae once. He might not be Catholic, but there's no denying it: that cock was sculpted by God.

Thank fuck Jeongin decided not to be a priest. Dick that good should always be deep in someone's guts. 

It was actually the lack of sound that gave you two away. When Minho stopped to take a breath after a full two minutes of cussing out Jisung and he noticed you were no longer mewling for attention. 

A quick glance over to the bed revealed the reason– the way you were holding one of Jeongin’s hands over your mouth with both of yours. His other arm was wrapped around your waist to keep you still as he ground into you slowly.The seething jealousy stirring in Minho’s gut was quickly stifled by the big boba eyes you gave him, silently promising him a turn too. 

The ultimate hyung-but-one had always been a patient man, and was more than happy to watch until it’s his turn. Especially when the view was that good.

Han was less gracious when he saw what was happening. Cue the cries of betrayal, the whining, the pouting, the begging for his turn. Completely disregarding how it was him and his ridiculous libido AND lightspeed recovery rate that caused the whole kerfuffle in the first place. 

It was Seungmin who snapped, whacking his hyung over the head with a rolled up newspaper and telling him to wait his damn turn. 

Han shut up, pouting those cute quokka cheeks so hard he gave himself muscle cramps. Even then he would not stop. Not even when Felix started peppering his stupid sulky face with tons of teeny tiny kisses, trying to make him giggle and smile and generally cheer the fuck up.

But Hannie sulks as hard as he smiles, in the end being banished to his room and only let out for snacks and bathroom breaks, to stop him from ruining the mood. Not that you would’ve been able to notice, being caught up in a seven way tag team and all…

You did find him later, raiding the cupboards for snacks and hoarding all of the emergency heartbreak ice cream from the freezer– his heart was broken after all. 

On the plus side, he’d written two new songs in his exile– both with the kind of heart wrenching lyrics that’d make you think he’d gone through three divorces, eight jobs, and watched everyone he loved perish in an 18th century shipwreck. Possibly involving a kraken or two.

Two excellent songs, sure to stir the emotions of any Stay. Though the second one–the one about the cure for his heartbreak being your thighs around his head and his tongue deep in your cunt…

Yeah, that definitely wasn’t going on the album.

He gave you his best kicked puppy eyes when you cornered him in the kitchen, clutching his high calorie loot to his chest, holding it like it was his first born child.

Which he promptly dropped, nay, threw to the floor when you shyly asked if he’d come back to your apartment and keep you company for the night.

His face lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree, bidding a fond farewell to his junk food child as he scooped you up and princess-carried you to his room. Mumble-babbling something to the tune of yes yes 110% yes please yes yes I would love to come and spend the night at yours but I need to fuck you right now before I actually explode.

It wasn’t until the next morning that Chan realised Han had somehow stolen all of the condoms, including the emergency one he kept in his back pocket.

So, two boxes each it is. Plus one extra box, bought in secret and hidden at the back of Chan’s wardrobe. For emergencies. Right next to the extra emergency first aid kit, in case some overenthusiastic riding ends up with another painful penis incident…

Chan had been worried about the checkout girl taking too long, about one of the others taking his turn and having to wait another rotation before getting inside you. 

Rotation? Explanation:

You might be willing to jump on anyone’s dick in your estrogen-induced haze, but after the Great Condom Theft of 2024, Chan and Minho worked out a strict schedule: keeping your days full of dick appointments while making sure none of the members felt left out.

It worked, mostly. Until unexpected events. Like the checkout girl taking too. damn. long.

But when Chan finally walked back into the dorm (in a cool and dignified manner, he definitely didn’t sprint up the stairs because the elevator was taking too long) the scene awaiting him in the living room was not what he was expecting.

Because instead of Hyunjin having his turn, or even Han sneaking a quick one in… it’s still Seungmin fucking you.

He’d had you in a mating press on the floor when Chan left, (which Chan was 100% not jealous about because that’s definitely not his trademarked move), but now Seungmin's got you on the couch, pounding you from the back while you moan around Felix’s dick. 

You must’ve sucked the blond raw by now, but if the gentle way Felix’s cupping your head and smiling at you is anything to go by, the way he’s brushing the hair off your forehead so he can look you deep in the eyes even as your nails leave little red scratches over his thighs… yeah, he doesn’t seem to mind. Felix has always been into a little bit of pain anyway.

Han is jerking off to the side, because of course he is. 

And Seungmin's designated box of condoms lying on the floor next to the couch, empty. There had been two left when Chan left, and he was only gone for 30 minutes. Chan’s not sure if he’s impressed, relieved, or frustrated. Probably a healthy mix of all three. 

Damn these young ‘uns and their ridiculous recovery rates.

Seungmin doesn’t look up when Chan shuts the door behind him, too busy concentrating on not nutting until he’s fucked you through at lease one more orgasm. But you do. 

You moan something that might’ve been his name, the vibrations finally pushing Felix over the edge and into filling his pretty pink condom. Watermelon flavoured of course, Lixxie always buys you sweet flavours when he wants head. So considerate.

As Felix slips from your mouth, your face lights up into an almost-exhausted-but-radiant smile as you murmur “Channie~” in a tone that makes Chan’s heart melt to mush… and his dick as hard as a diamond.

Seungmin definitely heard that, and there’s no way he misses the way you reach for Chan, but he chooses to ignore it. 

“Minnie.” Chan warns the younger man, who doesn't even spare him a glance and just starts to pound you harder instead. Pressing your face down into the cushions a little more, getting you to arch your back so he can hit it just right, making you cry out in that special way that means you’re about to cum… 

And as he fucks you through it? That’s when Seungmin finally acknowledges Chan, smirking up at him through his sweat-slick bangs as he taunts his hyung:

“Wait your turn, old man.”

“Bad pup.” Chan growls, ready to rip him off you and silently regretting not taking up Minho on his offer to hide strategically placed spray bottles around the door for “when the dog needs to be trained.” 

Before Chan can go and grab a water bottle from the fridge, a quiet whimper interrupts his thoughts.

“Minnie… please. Need Channie.” Your voice is soft. Needy. Irresistible. You must be exhausted at this point, but you’re practically glowing, looking at Chan with that special soft smile you save just for him.

Seungmin groans in protest, fingers digging into your hips as he thrusts just a little harder before remembering consent is key and reluctantly pulling out. But his attitude melts instantly when you lean back and kiss him, your neck twisting enough for Chan to see the mosaic of love bites and hickeys adorning your skin. 

Someone completely forgot the no marking up rule. Or just straight up ignored it.

Chan makes a note to give Seungmin extra dance practice. Not as a punishment of course, that would be petty. The almost-maknae’s hip thrusts just need a little more work. They’re getting sloppy.

The way you whimper when Seungmin strokes your neck brings him back to reality, his eyes snapping open as he feels over the little bruises. He quickly kisses over each one, whispering something sweet in your ear and making you giggle. 

Then he shoots his hyung a grin that says “worth it” and makes himself scarce, taking Chan’s stress levels with him and leaving you lax and boneless on the couch. The way you giggle when he scoops you up makes his heart flutter, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as he carries you to his bedroom.

While absolutely not against living room sex (sharing is caring after all, and it’s not like there’s room for embarrassment in a nine-way poly relationship) but right now Chan wants you all to himself.

He even takes the time to lock the door after kicking it shut, balancing your entire weight between his chest and one arm as he flips the handle.

No more interruptions.

part two?

Taglist: @sthaay @bluesungology @chrizzztopherbang @avnche @kemkem33 @mikaelless @lvrgrl-xo @eevenus @furioussheepluminary @sheerfreesia007 @aasthamoon @amazinglystay @delulustardust @galaxy4489 @lil-bear08 @abby-loves-aphrodite @a-jazzy-bitch @incognitoinstigator @minhooofr

[indecisive-capricorn]

Tranquility in Marriage — Gojo Satoru x Reader

WARNINGS: MDNI, heavy implications and talks of sexism, gender inequality because its in a more traditional setting, fluff, arranged marriage, quiet love, slowburn, distrust at first, elders acting like shit

SUMMARY: Getting into an arranged marriage with you was the only order Gojo Satoru had ever obeyed from the Elders and it was certainly not one he regretted.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This fic is heavily inspired on a slow love song I found and it's like a part one of the background of a mini-series for the arranged marriage au.

MASTERLIST & REQUESTS: Before you go, have a glass of wine or better yet, recommend a good bottle. any kind of message is always a delight.

You looked in front of the mirror with cold, empty eyes that practically screamed for you to get out of there. The beautiful white gown fit your body perfectly, the painted lips left not a single smudge around it, the curled hair flowed down elegantly—every detail in place, every inch seen and carefully given attention to, an evident of your family's perfectionism. But it felt nothing like you, almost as if you were in someone else's skin or more precisely, a nightmare that could been ended with a single pinch.

However, no matter how many times you tried to dig your sharp nails into the flesh of your elbow, desperately attempting to wake yourself, you were instead met with a sting from the pinch and the bitter realization that this was indeed real. All of it was your reality now and you didn't have a say in it anymore.

Growing up in a traditional and strict clan meant that you had been taught lessons that you would never have learnt if you had been born in a normal family, your childhood no longer becoming your own as the adults around you took control.

While other little girls learnt how to tie their shoelaces and sing the alphabets during their childhood, your mother and the ladies of the clan homeschooled you and taught you the ways of how marriage works early on in your childhood. They tried to drill the idea of being a perfect wife in your head, becoming obsessed over time to turn you into a bargaining doll- a perfect bride to be sold of to another clan for power and fame.

In your childhood, you became lonely and isolated, cut off from the rest of the world the high walls your clan built around you. The women of your clan would frequently tell you horror stories, meant to keep you afraid, obedient and most importantly, loyal. They told you all about the cruel men who would sell you for money, how shame and ruin will only follow you beyond the clan's protection, and how staying within tradition is important to preserve your dignity.

"None of us would become anything without tradition," Your father lamented during supper, while your mother poured more tea into his cup, "Each of us have duties to be fulfilled with the roles given to us. You must do the same."

"But I do not know him, Father," you spoke up, voice steady as ever, causing several figures around you to stiffen, including your mother whose hand froze around the teapot handle. "How can I marry someone I do not know? I don't even know what he looks like. I've only heard from the whispers of others. "

Even with the suffocating pressure of tradition, you had always clung to your freedom. Long before you ever learned about the outside world, before you secretly discovered what life was like beyond the clan walls, you had already felt the longing of freedom in your heart. You wanted to live without fear and discover the world for yourself. You wanted to become more than what you were destined for.

And once you did learn and saw how different things could be for women outside of the clan's high walls, you couldn't erase it from your thoughts.

You began to question it. At first, your rebellion came in sharp bursts during your teenage years, which consisted of loud arguments, slammed doors, sleepless nights. But over time, you learned to wield your defiance more carefully. Quietly. Strategically.

You learned how to maintain your peace while still discovering pieces of yourself that they will never reach. You found freedom in stolen books, brief conversations with outsiders, and long moments spent in your gardens where no one could hear you think.

But no amount of rebellion could stop the letter that arrived from the Gojo clan.

And now, sitting at the table during supper, you could feel that old, familiar burn in your chest. The ache of a future chosen for you, wrapped in duty and a name far more powerful than your own.

Your mother's face slowly turned red with fury, lips tightening, ready to yell at you, "You ungrateful brat—"

"You will know him soon enough, flower," your father interjected gently but firmly, shooting a warning glare to your mother. She fell silent with a click of her tongue.

Your father turned back to you, eyes softening with understanding and sorrow. "And you will do your duty," he said, not as a command but rather as a reminder. "As I have. As your mother has. As every soul at this table has for generations, and many more to come."

There was no malice in your father's words. There never had been.

You were his only child. His only daughter.

Out of everyone in the clan, he had dreaded this day the most. He had postponed your marriage as long as he could, always making excuses to the elders that there wasn't a suitable match for you yet, allowing you to have more time with your freedom. He had ensured you had everything your heart desired growing up, whether it'd be bookshelves filled with books to private gardens for you to wander alone, away from the suffocating clan members.

He had given you everything he could and he was the one to raise you as you are now, but even he was bound. "I would keep you forever here if I could," your father had said quietly to you in private when the announcement was first made. "However, I am unable to postpone this. The Gojo clan had been asking for your hand for quite some time now."

And just like that, your heart broke into pieces.

The Gojo clan, the most powerful and ancient family within the Jujutsu Society, had proposed a marriage between you and their only heir, Gojo Satoru. A name that's known in every household as he was known to hold the most powerful gift ever known, appearing only once in a hundred of years.

The Strongest, the Chosen One and now, your soon-to-be husband.

That was why your clan paid no mind to expenses. The wedding preparations was meant to become a spectacle to guests to dazzle. They wanted the whole world to know that their bloodline would be bound to the most exclusive and the most powerful clan in all the Jujutsu Society. And one day, their bloodline would be the one to have heirs of the Six Eyes and Limitless.

They paraded you around like a crowned jewel. A daughter. A symbol. A transaction for power.

Your father tried his best to comfort you throughout the whole process and even told you of how kind and polite the young Gojo was, but you still felt dread crawling up your chest every time you were reminded of the wedding.

Eventually, your father arranged a formal supper, hosting an official meeting between the two clans. A chance for you and your betrothed to meet face to face.

The Gojo clan would be arriving that evening.

You had never seen him before. Not even a glimpse. But the rumors painted him vividly. The piercing, otherworldly blue eyes that marked him as the wielder of the Six Eyes. Eyes said to see through everything and everyone. Eyes that couldn’t be lied to. Eyes that made people tremble at the mere sight of them.

You didn't know him. Not really. And that made him unpredictable.

And in your perspective, unpredictability was dangerous.

It didn't help that during the rare times you were allowed to leave the estate—escorted by maids who watches you closely—you still managed to hear the whispers and gossips from others. And when you snuck out on your own, hidden beneath a dark cloak as you always are, the whispers grew louder.

Some said he was mad. That he laughed too easily, smiled too widely. That he was far too powerful to be stable. Others whispered that he was dangerous—that behind that charming mask was a storm waiting to unravel. Some pitied you.

"Poor girl," they said. "She’ll be the one to face his gift when he loses control."

You couldn’t help but wonder who was right or perhaps, if all of them were and it depends on who he was with.

And still, you would have to sit beside him. Smile. Bow. Be the bride everyone expected you to be. Even if your hands trembled beneath the silk sleeves of your gown from fear and anxiety.

In the middle of the dining room, the air was thick with tension as servants rushed back and forth, arms full of trays and porcelain. Your aunts barked orders, your uncles corrected the seating arrangements for the fifth time, and your mother hovered over the flower arrangements like the wrong color petal might ruin the whole evening. You breath caught in your throat again. It had been happening all day. It was like a ticking time bomb and the explosion was getting closer with each breath you took.

And yet, no matter how many times they spoke of your betrothed, he remained nothing more than a blur in your mind. Unpredictable. Possibly destructive.

So, you did what you always did when the walls began to close in. You ran.

You slipped past your family members, past the servants busy with arrangements, past the elder who tried to stop you with a half-hearted call of your name. Your slippers barely made a sound on the wooden floors. You knew every corner, spending your whole life memorizing it to escape from everyone without getting noticed. You pushed a hidden door open to your garden.

The only place that ever felt like yours.

The only place you could freely be yourself with no eyes around.

No one was allowed here. Not the elders. Not the servants. Not even your mother dared to enter without invitation, which she can never get. Your father had made sure of that. It was your sanctuary and on days like this, it was the only thing that kept you breathing.

"It's just a stupid man," you tried to assure yourself, breathing deeply. You should consider yourself fortunate for not having Naoya Zenin as your betrothed. He was close to becoming your betrothed but your father refused to after sensing something terrible within the Zenin, which caused your mother to frequently complain to her sisters about since besides the Gojo clan, the Zenin clan is quite powerful as well. However, you heard that he was terrible behind doors towards his own staff and that your father had indeed saved you from a cruel destiny with him.

Perhaps Gojo Satoru isn't as bad as they say? You heard that he was a teacher as well to a school in Tokyo and becoming a teacher certainly teaches one patience and understanding.

Your whole body became alert when you felt someone open the door.

"Didn't think you'd be the type to bolt," came a voice from the doorway.

You froze.

The voice was low and teasing but calm as if he'd been waiting.

Your head snapped toward the sound, eyes locking onto a tall figure. His white hair caught the silver of the moonlight, and a pair of dark-tinted glasses covered his eyes. He didn’t look dressed for a formal dinner, though he wore the same colors as your clan's celebration garb, only looser, more relaxed, as if tradition didn't sit tightly on his skin the way it did on yours.

Gojo Satoru.

You didn’t need to ask.

You just knew.

"I had a feeling you might be here. Your garden looks lovely," he remarked with a smile, stepping casually onto the stone path but he made sure to keep a distance between you to keep you comfortable. "Though I have to admit, I expected you to climb the back wall and disappear completely. Not take a detour through your rose bushes."

You stared at him in disbelief, both at how relaxed he was and how annoying he was. "How do you know this is my garden?"

He tapped his ear. "I listen. Your maids gossip a lot."

You narrowed your eyes. "And how did you get here if you only listened? Did you follow me here?"

"I wandered," he said with an exaggerated shrug. "And stumbled into your sanctuary entirely by accident."

He looked at you. "Lucky me. If I hadn't, I wouldn't have seen such beauty."

You weren't sure if he meant the garden or you.

Silence stretched between the two of you.

He didn’t look dangerous. He didn’t look insane. If anything, he looked as if he was trying to figure out what to do or even say to you in the situation you are in. You two are meant to be married soon after all. His posture was relaxed, his voice soft and unassuming. The famous Gojo Satoru, who wielded the Six Eyes and Limitless, who could obliterate entire clans with a flick of his hand, stood there looking more like a polite yet awkward houseguest than the strongest sorcerer alive.

And then, just as your heart started to calm, he reached into his sleeve and pulled something out. Your eyes widened in surprise at the sugar bun he brought out, neatly wrapped in a pale paper.

He held it out to you, completely deadpan. "Peace offering."

Your brows furrowed. "…For what?"

He shrugged one shoulder, a lazy motion that somehow still managed to carry elegance. "For crashing your very exclusive garden party. And, you know, the whole arranged marriage thing."

You blinked, taken aback by the casualness in his tone.

He tilted his head and added, "I’m aware I don't exactly have a peaceful reputation, but I heard you liked sweets and I thought you would find flowers boring."

You stared at the sugar bun. Then back at him. Then back at the sugar bun. You did like sugar buns and you did favor snacks over flowers any day, but how could he have known that?

"…You’ve been spying on me?"

"Research," he said, one hand dramatically placed on his chest. "Basic recon. You’d be amazed what I can find out from your maids in just a few minutes."

"But even so, how did you manage to get the sugar bun on time? Your family couldn't have been here for that long," you pointed out, suspicion creeping into your voice.

Gojo grinned, the kind of grin that belonged to someone far too pleased with himself.

"Teleportation," he said simply, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

You blinked. "Teleportation," you repeated in disbelief.

"Yep. Technically, it’s a manipulation of space, but that’s boring talk." He gave the sugar bun a slight wave in front of your face. "What matters is that one moment I’m sweet-talking your maids, next moment I’m popping into my favorite bakery with the most delicious sugar bun that I know of in Tokyo, and then boom, I’m back here with the gift in hand."

"I didn’t want to show up empty-handed," he said with a casual shrug. "First impressions matter, and I didn’t think you'd be impressed by the usual fancy clan offerings. The elders suggested gold, pearls, cursed weapons-- they're all quite a bore."

You almost smiled.

The absurdity of it. The sincerity behind that sugar bun.

"And besides," he added, stepping a little closer and holding out the sugar bun again, "I wanted to give you something you would actually like and enjoy."

That made you pause.

It was true that you expected gifts from him not because you wanted it but rather that it was obligatory for the bride and groom to gift something in their first meeting. It had always been mandatory.

But this? A sugar bun from Tokyo, delivered through a manipulation of time and space, because he thought you would like it?

You took it from his hand, your fingers brushing his for the briefest second.

"Thank you," you murmured with a sincere smile.

He smiled so gently that it made you wondered for a moment--just for a moment--why you had been so guarded before.

"Anytime," he said.

—

"Where have you been?" Your mother whispered harshly the moment you stepped into the living room where the two families waited. Her eyes scanned you from head to toe with thinly hidden irritation.

You had told Gojo not to follow you, knowing very well that his presence beside you would raise several eyebrows, especially with the more traditional members like the elders at present. He understood though. He always seemed to understand, even when you didn't mind his company. It was something that needed to be done.

Before you could explain yourself, her eyes dropped to the sugar bun still in your hand. Her face turned furious and without missing a beat, she snatched the bun from your hand and shoved it to a nearby servant who got startled by the sudden presence of the snack in her hand.

"You are already spoiled enough," she hissed under her breath, as though your existence was a stain on a fine porcelain, disgust evident in her eyes. "But hiding away from your own engagement to eat sweets? Have you no shame?"

She aggressively smoothed out the front of your attire.

"Look at the mess you’ve made of yourself," she muttered, deeply annoyed. "If anyone knows better, they would have thought you passed through a storm to get here."

Aunts materialized around you like a daily routine, fixing your hair and adjusting stray threads from your attire with careful fingers and disapproving silence. They were less vocal about it, thinking that your mother's constant criticism would be enough for you to learn a lesson. You barely had the time to breathe through your mother's little makeover before you were presented—more like, pushed—to the heads of the Gojo clan.

Gojo Naoyuki and Gojo Sayaka.

Your future-in-laws.

Maintaining a steady posture, you bowed to them with grace as a formal greeting that was ingrained since childhood and one that. You had wondered what they might be like because unlike Satoru, there were barely any conversations surrounding them. One might even thought Satoru didn't any at all, given how rarely they were mentioned. Gojo Naoyuki held a great resemblance to his son—sharp jawline, striking white hair, the same proud nose—but he had none of Satoru's charms or even the twinkle in Satoru's eyes. Instead, his gaze was heavy and rather restricted, a large contrast with Satoru's own personality.

In some ways, he reminded you of your father—bounded by tradition, but he seemed to have experienced it far greater than your father had, tradition carved deeper into the lines of his every expression.

Gojo Sayaka, by contrast, was as beautiful as the whispers did claim, ever so graceful and composed, features refined like porcelain. There was an effortless elegance to her, the kind not taught but inherited. And yet, she had said very little since the moment you entered. Her silence was not absent though, it was calculation. Her poised eyes had followed your every movement the moment you stepped into the room, unlike her husband, whose focus had remained locked in conversation with your father.

Her gaze wasn't cruel, nor was it warm. It was observant. Formal. Dutiful. The way a queen might pay attention to her court; nothing personal and only done with a purpose.

While Satoru’s presence made you feel seen, Sayaka’s made you feel studied, like a judge almost.

However, you were used to judging eyes as well. You had been your whole life with the way the women in your clan, especially your mother, have berated you all these years and insulted you as well for every little thing you do. Yet, here you are, having to marry a family that's far better than the one your mother had married into. If it wasn't an arranged marriage, you would have been prideful of it sooner but after knowing your future husband, you were more at peace and only made your formalities. At the very least you will make sure to not tarnish the Gojo name.

Your father stepped forward first, bowing with practiced grace. “Gojo-dono. It is our honor to welcome you into our home.”

Naoyuki inclined his head. “The honor is mutual.” His voice was deep and calm, but carried the weight of a man who measured every word. “We have long observed your clan’s reputation for discipline. We are pleased to see it was not exaggerated.”

Your father offered a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “We strive to uphold what was passed down.”

Naoyuki gave a single approving nod before his eyes shifted toward you. They swept over you—not in scrutiny, not even judgment—but in the way one might inspect a weapon, a seal, an heirloom. “You carry yourself well," he remarked smoothly but lacked in warmth. "As expected of your clan. Daughters are often the reflection of a clan's discipline."

You bowed again. “Thank you, Gojo-dono.”

“It is not praise," he said evenly, “It is the standard.”

Silence hung for a moment too long and your aunts braced themselves for the bite that you usually do, but instead you just smiled politely. "Of course, I was raised well by my family and I will continue to honour the Gojo family with everything I was taught."

The room remained still for a heartbeat longer. Your mother’s eyes twitched ever so slightly, unsure whether to feel pride or suspicion. Your aunts exchanged brief glances, perhaps uncertain if your response was a surrender or a warning wrapped around in silk.

Naoyuki studied you, and while his expression didn’t change, there was a shift in the air, the slightest pause before he nodded once. Accepting. For now.

"Very well." He said. "You'll come to understand that more intimately once you take your place in the Gojo clan."

Murmurs of agreement followed afterwards, mostly from your aunts and other members of the Gojo clan. As for Sayaka, she only blinked slowly. A small tilt of her head. Nothing more, but you could see that it was a sign of approval from her.

You dipped your head politely, not submitting, but choosing not to engage with the provocation. You’d been raised to survive this kind of game. But from the corner of your eye, you saw Satoru relax slightly at your composure, his shoulders loosening as if to say, You did well.

Naoyuki gave a small nod of approval. Not of warmth—that was never his style—but of recognition. You had not faltered.

But you knew this wouldn’t be the last time you'd be expected to endure someone else’s standards. You watched as your father continued to converse with Naoyuki, but you could still feel a gentle gaze on you.

[harrypotterheretic]

This might be a controversial headcanon I have about Merope and Tom Riddle Snr, because - although Merope is talked about with pity in the HP series - outside of it, within the fandom, she is very much a villain and Tom Riddle Snr her victim.

And I understand why - because she, according to Dumbledore's best guess, gave a love potion to (roofied) Tom Riddle snr and got him to marry and sleep with her against his will. In doing so she not only violated his body and mind but destroyed his actual relationship with the muggle girl, Celia, and created scandal in his hometown, making him a subject of mockery - when he was very much a victim.

And its distasteful (at best) to victim blame.

But... I think about how Dumbledore wasn't there and is only guessing, and how he is a man and sees the world through men's eyes, and I think about what the world (and men) are really like.

When Tom Riddle snr returns to Little Hangleton, he talks about having been "hoodwinked" and the people of the village assume Merope lied to him about being pregnant in order to get him to marry her.

Which means the people of the village are happy to accept that Tom Riddle snr was sleeping with Merope before they ran away together. They certainly don't think he was in love with her (hence why he was hoodwinked) but they accept without question that he had engaged in a sexual relationship with her.

And I don't think that's unlikely.

Maybe even before Morfin and Marvolo were arrested, but definitely afterwards. I just don't think it's unlikely - men being as they are, and sorry to be crude - that a man like Tom Riddle snr wasn't perfectly happy to use Merope as a warm hole to get his dick wet.

I don't think he loved her, or was even attracted to her.

But would he have sex with her?

Yes!

Especially if Celia is holding out for her wedding night.

Higher class man having sexual relationships with lower class women, which mean nothing to them, and not caring one jot how this can ruin the lower class woman's life is as old as time.

Merope is "in love" with him, she is unprotected by people who will look out for her, she has no friends, no education and little experience of the world. She is unloved and desperate for kindness.

She is a sitting duck for a callous man who wants to get his end away.

The problem for Tom Riddle snr is that she is not, actually, as powerless as other lower class girls. She has magic.

And when poor, silly, in love Merope tells Tom she is pregnant and he tries to cast her aside, unlike her muggle sisters she is able to do something about it. When he refuses to do "the honourable thing" as she believed he would (because she believed he loved her), she uses magic to get him to marry her.

Dumbledore says he thinks Merope must have somehow found a way to trick Tom Riddle snr into drinking a love potion; that she got him to stop his horse by her house on a hot day and offered him water. That she eventually stopped giving him the love potions because she thought he might have really fallen in love with her by this point, or would stay for the baby, or just didn't want to lie anymore. But he is only guessing. That is, in fact, his headcanon.

Mine is that Tom Riddle snr was using Merope for sex, that she was already pregnant when they ran away (like the villagers thought), and that she only used magic to ensnare him after he rejected her when she told him about the baby. I think she did grab her wand and confund him, as she was reacting to his rejection - and had not been planning to kidnap him before this moment. I think it makes more sense than Dumbledore's explanation for why Tom regains his own mind and leaves, that Tom began to fight a confundus charm applied by an inexpert witch and broke free. And, if it was Merope who stopped using magic on Tom, I think it makes more sense than Dumbledore's theory for her to do so if she had a concrete reason to believe that he had ever loved her in the first place (no matter how misguided that belief was and how much the concrete was actually sand). Whichever version is true, I think Dumbledore's explanations are vague and patchy at best.

I also think it makes the pain of his leaving her more real, than if it was all a fantasy she cooked up in her head, and explains better why she just gave up after he left. She was not only desperate and alone and genuinely heartbroken, because she had been part of an actual relationship (if under false pretences on his side) but was also having to come to terms with the fact that she had been tricked and made a fool of and not only did Tom not love her, the Tom she loved never existed and the real Tom thought she was so worthless he was happy to use her, discard her and didn't care if she lived or died.

I just think that - using a sex class analysis of behaviour - my headcanon is far more realistic than Dumbledore's, because men really are that awful.

Now, the fact that they were sleeping together and Tom was doing so under false pretences doesn't stop Merope's using magic on him from being wrong. But it does even things out between them a bit, Tom is no longer a hapless victim of Merope's, but his being enchanted somehow is a consequence of his own poor behaviour. It is arguably deserved. And I see why that is a controversial take because it removes Tom from being a totally innocent victim of Merope's while making Merope a victim of his and finding an excuse for her bad behaviour. It is - arguably - victim blaming.

But I'm afraid the whole story just makes more sense if Tom and Merope were sleeping together before they eloped.

[seungsoftly]

why so shy?

꒰੭ lee heeseung x fem. reader ꒰੭ genre: shortfic/fluff ꒰੭ wc: 1.07k ꒰੭ contains mentions of being anxious, light kissing

livi's note ✿ thank you guys so much for over a 150 notes on my first drabble and over 250 notes on my first request, not to mention for 30 followers! you guys have no idea how much that means to me, it just warms my heart that y'all enjoyed it! this is sort of inspired by heeseung in my drabble as sort of a continuation a couple of months later and for my moot @obseeung so i hope you shy hee enthusiasts enjoy!

divider credits to @toastray

in the short few months that your relationship had gone on for, heeseung had been nothing but the perfect gentleman.

every week, he’d ask you on a date somewhere new. sometimes it was a restaurant, sometimes it was just a walk somewhere, and most recently it had been to an arcade.

the both of you had played games to your heart’s content, and when you ran out of tokens, heeseung didn’t hesitate to offer you some of his so you could keep playing. it was so sweet of him. you’d never truly felt entirely touched by something that your ex had done for you, and here heeseung was, drawing all kinds of feelings from you when your relationship had just started.

and not to mention the fact that when you two were done and went to redeem your tickets, heeseung gave you all of his and whispered in your ear, “pick whatever you want sweetheart. i already got the pleasure of your company tonight.”

heeseung was just so perfect and sweet, but it was only at the end of these little dates, occasionally when he’d gather up the courage to say something romantic like that to you.

he just got so shy and so anxious about what you thought of him and that he might be making a fool of himself with every single word that came out of his mouth. god he just got so nervous that he was going to do something wrong and entirely screw up in front of you and absolutely ruin your relationship.

that was his never ending nightmare. him doing something that hurt you when he didn’t mean to and making you hate him for the rest of his life. 

this was probably the best relationship that heeseung had ever been in. you were just perfect and beautiful and so sweet, and he never wanted to let you go. you were so out of his league, and he was just amazed that you had said yes to him in the first place.

…

five months in, heeseung gave you a spare key to his apartment. when you’d protested, he only had one thing to say, albeit slightly mumbling it because he was still shy around you a little bit.

“if anyone could just walk into my apartment, i’d want it to be you.”

his statement made you blush, yet again touched by your romantic boyfriend. he was turning red too, ears flushed as his own thoughts were spiralling through his head, out of control. heeseung was once again shocked that you’d said yes to him.

and soon enough, this spare apartment key turned out to be a pretty good thing for your relationship…

…

the two of you had made plans for later that afternoon, and since it was only around noon, heeseung wasn’t expecting you to show up for at least a few more hours. you’d already told him a couple of days ago that you had class in the early afternoon that you couldn’t miss.

don’t get him wrong, he was very much looking forward to hanging out with you, but you still made him a little bit nervous, and that made him act much shyer than he did around his friends.

you absolutely adored how cute heeseung was when he was acting all shy around you, but you wished that he could break out of the little shell that he seemed to put himself in around you. you’d seen before how he acted around his friends, and you wished that you could have that heeseung to talk to as well as the polite gentleman that he already was around you.

so, you’d planned on catching him by surprise, coming over an hour earlier than you’d planned for your hangout at his apartment. and then it got even better. your afternoon class was surprisingly cancelled for that day, so you could head over even earlier.

soon enough, you were standing outside of heeseung’s door, sliding the key into the lock and turning the doorknob easily. and what you found beyond that door absolutely just melted your heart.

heeseung had music on, the volume quiet but still audible as he rushed around the room, picking up what seemed to be everything while muttering to himself, “i’ve got to make sure it looks nice for her.”

he hadn’t even noticed you standing in the doorway yet, and you were just frozen in place, touched in a way that nobody had ever done before. you thought he was sweet. no. he was incredible. heeseung is definitely a keeper, you thought to yourself.

“you’re so sweet hee!” the exclamation came out of your mouth before you could stop it. the only thing that was stopped was heeseung himself, frozen as he turned his head to look at you while carrying at least three blankets and two pillows as he was attempting to make his couch look slightly presentable at the least.

“oh i wasn’t…”

“i didn’t even think to call you, i’m so sorry i barged in here so early,” you chuckled nervously, hoping you really hadn’t disturbed him at a bad time.

“no, no y/n it’s okay… uh i was just tidying some things up to make the apartment better for when you came over,” heeseung mumbled, head ducked slightly out of bashfulness. he had certainly not been expecting you to come over this early.

“hee, why are you so shy around me?” you blurted out, not entirely thinking but wanting to know the answer.

his head popped up, eyes widening as he stuttered out a response.

“um, well i just want to be a good boyfriend ‘n all, and i just get nervous that i’m going to do something or say something wrong and it’s gonna mess our relationship up and hurt you…” he rambled on.

“i’m just gonna stop you right there handsome,” you smiled warmly, crossing the space between you two in a few quick steps before catching his face in your hands. “you’re just fine, and you’re not going to mess us up. just stop worrying about it, and let me see the real you. i’ve been wondering what he’s like.”

and before he could say anything in response, you closed the gap between your lips, pressing yours to his in a sweet kiss.

after a moment, you pulled away. “now how about we get rid of that shyness, shall we?”

© seungsoftly 2025 please do not copy, repost, or translate

this is a work of fiction and is not intended to depict any accurate representation of any members of enhypen. please do not take this as real.

[vm-haunts]

The world shaked apart around them as they moved further away from the hospital, debris covering their tracks and buries their way back.

It worked out alright though, in the end.

Between Ghost's help and Jason's better control, they managed well enough to keep the body alive in the chaos around them.

Ghost... isn't entirely sure why that is important when they're both ghosts, but he knows it is.

...

The people around them is... Hard to focus on.

Ghost first noticed at the hospital, with the doctors and nurses passing in and out of their room. They all feel like the cutout background crowd in a cartoon, to him at least.

Jason is getting better, slightly more aware and for longer every time he wakes up. Still, there is no way to tell how much he retains between his wakings, and communication is still hard despite his efforts.

So perhaps the reason Ghost felt like they're drifting is because the other people are all so alive, when they're both dead, and the dead isn't meant to interact with the living. Or perhaps it's because Ghost isn't anchored to anything living, and Jason who is wouldn't feel the foggy glass between him and the world at all.

Whatever the reason may be, if Jason can feel the world better than he does or not, it doesn't change the fact that they just drift through the living's world without much interaction.

Which makes it that much harder to notice, and that much more jarring too, when the living does manage to impact them.

...

Here's a secret: they remembered how to break a man's every finger before they remembered to eat every day.

Although, both realizations actually happened together when they fell over the passed out man, so it doesn't really matter anyway.

It could also be because one is an active threat to them, and the other is an... inconvenience that neither of them had to worry about for a long while.

Between the grave and the hospital, Ghost isn't even sure when was the last time Jason actually has to eat anything. His ghostly self doesn't remember eating anything, ever.

The only thing that matters is that they did remember, when they collapsed after giving the man a broken hand.

The guy has enough on him for a meal or two. It's harder to find somewhere to get said meal, and harder still to get things past their throat, but it worked.

Now they just have to remember to do it often enough the body don't shut down.

...

There's chaos everywhere, ruins and rubbles in place of buildings and streets.

Ghost isn't sure if that makes it better or worse.

On one hand, they fit right in with the miserable people camping out on the streets. No one cares if they can't respond right, not when so many others is just as unresponsive. Shock, ghost recalls, something that'll turn normal people into half living ghosts too. Metaphorically.

On the other hand, they don't know where else to go. Jason still wants to find Bruce, and as much as ghost wanted to help, he has no idea what else he can do when neither of them has a clue on where to and how.

Without a clear destination, the only thing they can do for now is stumble around blind, but Ghost doubt they can sustain it forever. Sure they are getting better at moving the body, but trying anything beyond the most basic instincts remains a struggle.

Guess they'll figure it out as things comes by.

...

There are... people, watching them.

Ghost isn't sure what they want. They aren't like the others that wants their spot to sleep, or the food they aquired. But they must want something from them, even if they can't figure out what.

Jason is wary, though Ghost doesn't feel any kind of hostility from them. They felt like the crows in the graveyard, or the shadows that lives in them. Watching because they're curious, or bored, or because they're told to.

Ghost suppose it doesn't hurt to be careful around them.

So these people watched them, from a distance, and they watched back. On and off again they caught sight of each other, as Ghost and Jason make their way around the crumpled city.

...

They walked some more.

One day they got to the seaside, where they can see the reminants of some collapsed bridges. Jason almost lost it when they did, and ghost still can't tell why.

Ghost steered them away from the ocean after that.

Another time a bunch of clowns tried to jump them outside of a park, but Ghost can clearly hear them scheming. They turned and left before the stupid clowns can start anything, and stayed away from the parks.

The people watching them disappeared for a while, and something is different when they cone back.

The chaos continues in the streets, but the scent of death is letting up. Change is on the horizon, Ghost can tell even without the crows.

...

They tried not to sleep at the same time, but sometimes they still crashes together.

They were moved again, is the first thing Ghost noticed when he wakes up. The second is that they are sitting in a room, with more people watching them.

He was wrong apparently, these people aren't like the crows and the shadows. They are speaking, he thinks, and it's clearer than any other people speaking, but the words eluded him unlike the crow's.

He has no idea if Jason even noticed they were moved. He's been out of it ever since they went to the seaside.

After a while ghost lost interest in the people watching them, when they presented no more threat nor entertainment.

When they wakes again, there is a lady with them, in green rather than black.

Lost Ghosts

[continuation of Little Prayers]

Something went wrong.

The boy woke up. The ghost knew that Jason would wake up, knew it with a surety when he doesn't know anything else. He had been waiting for that moment, for a fellow ghost to emerge ever since he felt Jason's first wobbly core speak.

But that's the problem, isn't it? He was waiting for a fellow ghost to come out of the grave, not- not for the boy to wake up back in his body, still stuck in the casket!

Soon the faint sounds of movement from beneath the grave turned into frantic scratching, and the ghost ties himself into knots with worry. What is he supposed to do? He need to get the boy out, body and all, but how? He had tried digging, but his claws are no help when it pass straight through the earth without moving a single blade of grass.

A distressed cry for help comes from beneath, and suddenly the ghost is hit with a memory. His very first memory really, of a warehouse, of sealed doors, of a freshly forming core's first cry.

Most importantly, of moving a half dead body around.

The ghost frowns at his claws and tried to think. A moment later he sinks into the grave with a reassuring hum, and the faint scratching turned into loud rakes of claws on wood.

...

Breaking through the silk and wood of a casket is a simple task, when sharp claws are involved.

Digging free through six feet of crushing dirt is much harder, but the ghost managed. It does get significantly easier after he found a way to pass through the earth again, this with the boy's body in tow.

The real challenge though, comes after they're out of the grave. Namely it comes in the form of figuring out how to walk. In a physical body. With legs.

Oh he can control the upper half just fine, his own ghostly self has similar enough bits. But legs? Tough luck. Not to mention that this body is also affected by annoying things like physics and gravity.

Even worse, he is also running out of energy, fast.

After the fifth time they land on soft muddy ground, the ghost huffed out a cold breath and laid there for a long second. Five falls in twenty yards, this really isn't going well at all. The edge of exhaustion is closing in swiftly and moving in the boy's body is getting harder by the second. At this rate they're never gonna make it out of the graveyard.

The ghost blinked, and took a moment too long to open his eyes again.

Distantly, he had the impression that someone is laughing.

[melia-an2fa]

Christ on a cracker, no one seems to be able to act normal about this SaveAFox shit. I remember even back a couple years ago, I'd heard some criticisms of how she handled things, simply agreed "Yeah that sounds a bit concerning, I won't be watching her stuff," and then moved on, maybe on occasion gave friends a heads up if they posted her stuff, but otherwise, just... moving on.

I remember getting agitated when what started as very mild criticisms started to evolve into post after post into dedicated tag for her into Google Doc Callout Post™ and just feeling deeply annoyed by this being a constant cycle, and unfollowed some folks because of it. People who remember my old blog probably remember my post talking about people on Animalblr (? is that the word) I found annoying, this was part of why.

And in a way, it's a bit... cathartic? That may not be the right word for it. The irony of it all, is that the people who were most vocal about this, I could say the same thing for them that I would've said about Mikayla, which is that they were well-intended (caring about animal welfare and having real concerns) but still irresponsible (documenting literally every thing the woman did in dedicated tags; this was bound to attract bad faith actors and concern trolls!)

I honestly hadn't thought about Mikayla for a long time until this happened today, because, again, my response was simply "Well I won't watch those videos" then moving on. I didn't keep a dedicated tag to documenting everything she did. Hearing the news was honestly devastating, because I don't care what a person did, they don't deserve to die. I never even thought of Mikayla as a bad person, just well-intended but irresponsible, even if she were a "bad person" I wouldn't think she deserved to die.

So, fuck you if you sincerely consider this a "win," if you have no regrets about anything you did. I personally now have regrets trusting the word of some of these individuals, seeing as it has now escalated to this point. And sure, Ethan said it was because of people she knew and other sanctuaries, but let's not pretend rumors don't spread. I remember when I saw the doc in particular, I was disgusted that her having an OnlyFans even came up, it just ruined the credibility of the entire doc, no matter what legitimate concerns you may have had about Mikayla's animal welfare, because her having an OF... has nothing to do with her welfare! But that being information other sanctuaries could've found out about could've still ruined her credibility with them regardless, since, y'know, people fucking hate women who have a sexuality?

I will also say, I do think some of her defenders are going way too far, and I do not approve of this. I think it's kinda ridiculous to accuse every single person who's ever mildly criticized her, especially if it was years ago, and/or came from a person who's been inactive on Tumblr for half a year, of being "murderers." I've seen people hurling slurs (mostly the R-slur), being transphobic (because Owlvid in particular is trans), making threats about doxxing people and/or raping them and their family members... what the hell is wrong with you? There is no childish "But they did it first-" here, you are engaging in the exact kind of behavior that lead to Mikayla's death, and that's disgusting, what we're learning from this shouldn't be "Let's keep up this cycle of vengeance!" or "Let's document everything someone we don't like does!" No, do not entertain the idea of the "callout post." That's how we get here in the first place. Block. Move on. Curate. That's what the people who didn't like her content should've done, too.

May Mikayla rest in peace, my heart goes out to her family, I hope Ethan can get the funds that he needs in order to take care of his daughter, and I hope the animals can, at least, be rehomed to other sanctuaries, should Ethan not receive proper funding.

There's been a lot of recent events making me rethink how quickly I and others jump the gun when it comes to animal welfare concerns, and this is one of them.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Black Light 17/End

Warnings: noncon, namecalling, violence, blood other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: Thank you for waiting! Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You cling to August’s hand, swinging his arm as you watch a bumblebee in the cup of a tulip. It’s so peaceful out here. So perfect. You don’t feel so... trapped. 

He huffs and wiggles his fingers. You tug on him and growl. “Aren’t you happy? Isn’t it so pretty out here?” 

“It’s hot. I’m supposed to be working out.” 

“Walking is working out,” you insist. 

He sighs again. You lean against his thick arm and hum. “Oh, pookie, this is such a nice day. You and me. Together.” 

He rumbles but makes no comment. You feel him stiffen, you sense his agitation. It brings yours back to the surface. 

“Auggy,” you stand straight. “I want to show you something.” 

You smile up at him. His lip curls under the line of hair there. You fight not to frown. You didn’t want him either. Why did he have to mess everything up? 

Because he thinks you’re weak. Because like everyone else always said, you’re too nice for your own good. Maybe so. 

“Whatever,” he mutters. 

You squeeze his hand and point ahead. You got a lot of your pictures for your scrapbooks down by the creek. It’s so nice down there. People don’t usually find it because the prickly milkweed and thorny brush. You never minded. 

You pull him towards the trees and he drags you back. You tug harder. 

“You’re not afraid of some leaves, are you?” You taunt. 

He huffs, “not afraid.” 

“Then come on, big boy.” 

“Don’t call me that,” he growls. 

“Oh, jeez,” you roll your eyes and pull him between the brush. “It’s not that far down. There’s tadpoles and butterflies and I saw a bunny last time.” 

He stomps over the brush and hisses. You feel him jerk behind you as he tears away from the biting thorns. You smile to think they caught on his clothes. You hope he gets at least a rip or two. 

“Down here,” you go down the two foot incline and stomp down onto the grass. “See!” 

“A pond?” He frees his hand from yours. 

“It’s so beautiful. You should look at the scrapbook I made you. I had a whole page about my dream picnic here. Me and you. Oh, and some wine. Do you like wine?” You babble over the water. 

“I like whiskey.” He sneers. 

“Oh, look! A frog.” You rush to the edge of the river and look down at the hopping amphibian. He snarls again. He has to ruin everything. “I said come look.” 

“Just a frog,” he grumbles. You cross your arms and don’t look back. He marches to the water’s edge. “Alright, I’m looking.” 

You peek over at him. He’s a big grouch. He’s so miserable, that he has to share it with everyone else. It seems It's the only thing he’s willing to give away. 

You look down again and drop your hands to your hips. What did you do but be nice to him? You didn’t ask him to save you that night? Why did he even bother? 

You back away. He stays, stirring the water with the toe of his boot. You pace around as your stomach boils. You replay last night in your head. How embarrassing. You don’t know why you thought it was a good idea to do it again. You guess you thought if you had control over it, it would make the first time easier... 

It didn’t. You think about what you did. Of how mean he’s been. He’s a rotten person. He’s rotten and he’s infecting your happy place. Why did you bring him here? 

He treads along the edge of the pond, tutting under his breath. He’s a dark spot even as the sun pours in through the leaves. He’s just a pest. He’s no better than an infestation of moths in an old linen closet. 

He doesn’t care about the butterflies or the frogs or even that chipmunk skittering up that tree. He can’t see the pretty things all around him. He doesn’t care about you either or what he did. When you even try to bring it up, he mocks you. He got off and you got nothing but pain. 

You grit your teeth as your fists ball. You don’t like anger. You don’t know how to handle it. It boils up inside you like a kettle. Then you explode and do stupid things. Like follow him home and try to give him a scrapbook. Or fuck him like some maniac. 

You extend your fingers and watch him. Your vision blurs as slowly you creep towards him. He snarls as he bows his head, examining his shirt and a smear of sap on it. He tries to rub it out as you bend your knees. You look down only as you grip the large rock. 

What are you doing? 

You lift it and make your way closer to him. He growls and tugs his shirt in exasperation. “You ruined this. I told you we shouldn’t--” 

As he turns, you hurl the stone. The weight nearly takes you off your feet. It hits him right in the brow and knocks him off his feet. He lands in the water with a grunt and a crash. 

He lays on his shoulder, blood flowing from the gash in his forehead. The stone is behind him. He has one nostril under the surface and chokes as he breathes in water. You watch him, rubbing your scraped fingertips together. 

You blink. Wake up. You’re having another nightmare. The ones that keep happening since he did what he did. 

He chokes and spasms, coughing and gurgling. It’s not a dream. None of this is. Life isn’t! You can’t just make collages and hope for the best. 

You stomp through the water and kick his shoulder. He lands on his back and hacks out a glob of water and blood. His lashes flicker and his eyes roll wildly. You bend over him and slap his cheeks. 

“Hey, Auggy! August!” You hiss. You frame his face and squat over him. You yank his hair and he groans. His eyes snap open, clouded with pain as they threaten to close gain. “Can you hear me?” 

He croaks and drones your name. It’s the first time he hasn’t called you girl or stupid. You’re even angrier, even as the blood staining his hairline scares you. 

“Good, you listen to me. If I ever see you again, I will finish this. You jerk!” You drop your hands to his neck and squeeze. You bend over him, straddling his thick torso. “I will ruin you exactly like you did me!” 

He coughs and his lips move wordlessly. You sneer down at him and push the vee of your hand down on the front of his throat. He wheezes. You reach with your other hand and splash water over his face. He spasms and you pull your grip from his neck. 

He stares up at you, shakily raising a hand to his bleeding forehead. 

“Crazy...” he utters. 

“Damn right, pookie,” you swing back and smack his across the face.

He grunts and you plant your hands on his chest. You push yourself off of him and stagger around, the water soaked through your shoes, the platforms sinking into the silt. You kick through the shallow and back onto the dirt. 

You don’t look back as you make your way to the tangle of vines and thorns. You don’t feel them as they cut into your legs. It’s not that pain that needs healing. One day, it will be. It has to be. 

You can still hope for that. 

[medi-melancholy]

meanwhile, a month ago, when i was blissfully unaware of what awaited me at the end of ARR--i started to get Really Mad at CT (and started ✨coils✨)

you're going to what. why. where did this come from

:( what about your own wishes?? what do you really genuinely want to do? what about your own individual dreams and goals and purpose you want to look for? yes you're the one living person available with allagan blood and yes doga and unei entrusted more power to you but like, you didn't sign up for any of this, you just wanted some explanation behind why your family has had the eye of allag and you wanted to explore the tower and all that, i just. wehhhhh

says who???? why does it have to be? we just lost our new friends doga and unei, and now we're gonna lose you too? that sucks, man!

maybe i don't want it to be! because this sucks! why are just letting him do this! without taking any time to possible consider alternatives or look for other solutions!!!!

man ok i don't even really care about the cat but i personally do not like how this whole story chunk was handled. it's unsatisfying when characters just end up slaves to fate or destiny stuff beyond their control and they're just chill with it or they willingly subject themselves to it and everyone around them is like yeah sure go ahead this is fine

save me, nero's tom-holland-frog-in-mouth face.... make me laugh

:/ thanks. it was. something

but NOW. we experience peak*

*unsynched peak

forever awwww'ing at how tiny the twins are.... they're baby

also i'm proud of my stubborn daughter for knowing when it's time to ask for some help!

anjyu is very actions over words, this is true

for the first half of coils, i called in pixel to carry me ♥️

ah yes. me, alisaie, the ruins of dalamud, and this random rabbit in a raincoat from another world who's been obliterating everything in sight for us

[flashbacks to the 2.0 fetch quest chain] Yes.

ooohhh ok. so that's why the not-moon hatched like an egg and bahamut came out, because he was captive in there the whole time. i am getting my questions answered!

i am also getting my ears answers'ed

us.... and also willow is here

anjyu, perpetually confused, and willow doing a jerma, in the same sparkly purple void

god don't jinx it. but yeah that's the unsynched carry mood LMAO

........uh. hold on

UH. ARE WE LIKE. SAFE HERE???

are any of these places safe?????? because this hall looks evil as fuck

great googly fucking moogly he's just right there

PEEPAW SIGHTING WAS REAL

COILS HAUNTED??????

ohhh... daughter.... 🥺

i... don't know if that's the case, though! but i'd hate to crush her dreams. i seriously think that's just like. an afterimage of some kind. because how in the hell could he still be alive

i would die for you. you are the bestest

[artificer-real]

ive started to really despise self help posts because all they do for me is illustrate just how apparently fucked i am compared to most other people

[momentokori]

I'm so tired, i think I'm gonna go back to sleep.

[dashiellqvverty]

my opinion on season 11 is that ian and mickey were all over the place from episode to episode and i ultimately wasn’t very happy with where it ended for them

[hiddenbeks]

so many thoughts abt how schewpid the jedi council is in kotor but also not sure if i should write abt any of them before i finish the game because it's entirely possible that i'm still missing some critical information,

[inkskinned]

which is fine, because love is love, and you're getting gay-married, so it would be kind of ironic if love was only sometimes love.

except The King Of Demons (his is Edmund) is always late, to everything, always. which is fair, because time doesn't work in hell, and it's not like he can just catch a bus. except that you specifically asked him not to do this, didn't you, because he's always doing things like this.

He splays out his hands, the light catching on long, ivory claw tips. god, doesn't he know not to wear white to a wedding?

so many people are screaming right now.

it's not that he's the golden child. you guys had normal parents, middle-class. your mom was kind of an "almond mom," according to your fiancée, who pursed their lips when they found out about how your mom used to wrinkle her nose any time you asked for an extra snack in your lunchbox.

you close your eyes for a moment. think of your beautiful almost-spouse. ashe. their name like a bloom inside you. how the dress looks on ashe's body, their shy little smile. how they'd walked down the aisle, and you'd both been half-laughing, half-crying. your hands had trembled when you saw them. like the whole world was pouring down your throat, golden. like you were catching a moment and casting it in amber.

ashe'd been the one to help you when your parents were pushing for you to invite edmund. god, the amount of fights you'd gotten in with your parents - the same six sentiments, over and over again.

you'd been sitting on your bed, biting your lip, your fingers hovering over the little button send. ashe'd nuzzled your neck. you used to be close, and i think that's important. but you know your relationship to him the most. i'm willing to make the effort, and i love you no matter what you choose, they'd said. we don't have to if you don't want to, though, no matter what your parents say about him.

you'd thrown yourself down, supine, arm over the eyes. he's just... we are just.... you tried to phrase that-which-is-love-and-rage.

you're the normal twin. your "big thing" was only "being a lesbian." in high school, edmund started being able to make birds die by looking at them. you came home, trying to tell your parents i kissed a girl. i think i'm - and they just kind of nodded at you. edmund was eating the bible in front of them, like a goat.

on the bed, you'd held your hands out vaguely to ashe. edmund is a just always a lot.

ashe had shrugged. don't invite him then. and it was that - that they were okay with either of your decisions - that is why he even got an invite, in the end.

and now here he is, like how you wanted (?), and your hands are red, clenched hard around your bouquet. the officiant is crying. some people are on their knees, praying. some are trying to touch your brother, like he could impart a blessing.

"i made it!" he's triumphant. "i know i'm late, i'm sorry, there was - do you know anything about right-wing politicians?"

"i'm going to fucking kill him," you say, although you're not actually sure who you're talking to, or if he can be killed.

ashe is blinking, their face in a tiny oh of surprise. you take their hand, drop their hand, take their hand again. they blink at your brother. their voice is low but steady. "there's, um. is there a dark halo around him?"

you duck your head to meet their eyes. "fuck, ashe. i'm sorry. he wasn't supposed to -"

"did i miss it?" Edmund is swinging his head around far-too-wide. his 2 sets of horns leave little red mist any time they scour through the air. "I didn't miss the kiss, right?"

the town clerk is in the audience, and she's frowning. you send her an apologetic look. she shakes her head. "as we've discussed," she manages to throw her gentle voice over the din, "the wedding isn't official if someone objects. that is the legal statute. which people tend to be understanding of." she sends a dirty look to edmund, and that makes you love her. she seems completely calm, which makes sense, because she works in the town hall, and this probably isn't even her first demon-showing-up-at-a-wedding.

he somehow hears her, holds his hands up. "i'm not objecting!" the back of the event hall catches on fire. of-fucking-course. "i'm not - don't mind me, uh, please continue." edmund sends a look to the back-of-the-room fire and it whimpers and gutters out. he flashes you a winning smile, and then puts his hand to his king's-garb chest and mouths sorry! and then cartwheels his glittering talons to say go ahead.

"i think i'm going to throw up." the officiant's voice is barely a whisper.

you watch in horror as edmund tries to awkwardly slide into a waiting line of chairs. the sound of begging follows him, people on their knees at hell's king. he pats a few of them on the head, holding up his finger in a sheepish shh! while his touch leaves a bleeding rune on their skin. his hooves click, and his footprints leave ruby-bright fireroses in his wake.

he tries to sit down, but the wooden chairs are made for people and not the lord king of demons, so he has to span his furred hindquarters over two seats. he smiles again, offers you a little wave.

the room is dead silent, minus the weeping. you look back to ashe. you ruined this. you shouldn't have invited him. you spent so much money on this event, and ashe looks so fucking handsome, and you haven't even gotten to kiss them. to make it official.

ashe looks up at you, manages a little smile. "could be worse?"

you feel yourself start to smile too, but then edmund's chairs give out, and he falls directly on the floor, and with his startled yelp, everything around him bursts into the cold whip-crease of hellflame, disintegrating everything that isn't-a-person, including the flowers and the decorations and the cake and the tables. everything you saved for months to be able to afford. the venue that you both agonized over choosing. you picked this place because it was significant to both of you and was equidistant from both your parents and had a deal with the local hotel for people coming out of town. two years of planning, literally burning down around your ears.

edmund manages to stop the fire pretty much immediately, but it's too late. the officiant faints clear away. the town clerk gives you a sympathetic look and mouths see you soon and steps neatly out of the room, taking ashe's parents with her, chatting gently. an arched flower frame collapses into dust with a loud whoomp. pretty much nobody is left in the building, and you're standing at the top of the steps, at the fucking hour of your marriage, and there is nothing left but blue-cold embers, the lights blown out in favor of the eerie hellfire glow.

you sit down, hard. after a few seconds, you feel ashe sit down next to you. you put your head between your knees so you don't puke with rage, which would be somehow more humiliating than everything else happening at the moment.

"okay, it's definitely too soon," they whisper in your ear, "but i have to admit there is something that's going to be so funny later about my name being ashe and my wedding going up in flames." they wrap their hand in yours. "i can't believe we worried about candles. we should have just gone with them instead of worrying about safety. are you okay?"

you send them a look. "am i - am i okay? this absolute bitch -" you gesture with your free hand out to where edmund is trying to piece together the cinders of his chair, "ruined my fucking wedding."

your mom is standing awkwardly in what used to be the "family" row of chairs. your father is absent, of course. she makes a noise at you. "don't call your brother a bitch."

"oh my fucking god." you have to put your head between your knees again, fighting that stupid fucking rage-puke urge. your blood pressure has obviously reached "skyrocket".

"he's here, isn't he? you're not being particularly grateful," your mother says, because of course she does.

"oh my god! ohmygod. ohmygod." you feel yourself hyperventilating, and then you start laughing, and you hate the hyena hysteria of it, the way it pitches dangerously close to a sob. "this is just - this is just like you! this is the fucking - you blow out the candles on the birthday cake! you curse the kids i'm trying to babysit! you get straight-A's on every test without studying, and get all the friends, and everyone is obsessed with you! and then when i graduate from art school, do i fucking get a party? nope! but hey, let's throw edmund a party for his 300,000th tortured soul! and his 300,001st! and fucking everything else. and fuck me, i guess! edmund gets hurt on the playground, let's burn down the playground. i got fucking bullied, and our parents don't even notice. i am fucking struggling, but we need to pay attention to edmund. he gets fucking everything. while we're at it, why don't we let him fucking ruin my wedding!"

you are dimly aware of ashe wrapping one arm around you and then the other, and then you are sobbing into their shoulder.

"oh, come on. stop with the hysterics," your mother chides you. "you had a perfectly fine childhood. all kids fight. you should have gotten the ceremony done faster. and you know i didn't approve of you spending all this money when you have student loans to -"

"respectfully," ashe's voice is cold and cutting while they rub circles on your shaking back, "and i know you're about to be my mother-in-law, but -" you hear them force a smile, "maybe you could choose this moment to leave your daughter the fuck alone?"

you are so fucking in love with ashe at that moment that it stops your weeping like you got hit by a truck. you look up at them, and want to go back to crying, just overwhelmed by the sheer fucking amount you care about them, but then you look over at your mother, and her shocked expression, and you burst out laughing.

your mother makes a few almost fish-like motions with her mouth, and then turns on her heel, stomping over cinders on her way out. and then it is just you and ashe and edmund and how you are half-crying half-laughing quietly to yourself, like a tap that won't stop dripping.

edmund has put the chair down. he is staring at his hands. he is at least 500 pounds and over 7 feet tall (he doesn't use metric, he's the devil). and somehow, right now, he just looks... small. crestfallen.

"yeah, i mean." his voice cracks. there's no boom of thunder or hellhound echo. he sounds like he did as a kid, before the strange powers and the levitating and the souls of the damned. he sounds like he did the night he accidentally melted most of the pieces in your first glass art show. he sounds - like your brother. he puts the heel of his palm against his eye. "i ruined my sister's wedding."

ashe offers him a little half-grin. "i do just want to say i love the aesthetic, by the way. but you did very much ruin my wedding too."

he points at them, finger-guns. "....ruined their wedding too." something in the attempt at humor - how his voice breaks on the words, how lonely he sounds. it makes you have to close your eyes against the sound. "....you seem cool," he says. "it's... it was nice to meet you."

you hear him come over, his hooves clacking slowly on the floor. when you open your eyes, he's sitting closer to you.

he opens his hand. inside are two little ceramic figures. wedding cake toppers. "i... i made them for you two. i figured i would try - how you make art, without magic. i... i took a class, and i made - i made them." he looks down at the little white-dressed people in his wide, calloused palm. "it's... i wanted to be ... good. i..." he looks at you, and then at ashe. "i tried, you know?"

ashe reaches up, lets him roll the figures into their palm.

he stands up. folds his hands in front of himself. "i don't. know how to be good. i know it doesn't come naturally to you, either. i saw you... choose. to be kind. you could have treated me different, too. like everybody? i was weird, and everyone knew. if you'd been ... mean? it would have been okay. but you." he shrugs. "one time you tried to kill me in the bathroom."

you don't know why you're crying. you look up at him through the cracks between your fingers. "twice," you croak. "but the second time i had a knife." you tuck your hair behind your ears. "but that was only after you pushed me down the stairs at grandma's and i broke my leg before a dance performance. you fuckin' deserved that one."

"i pushed you because you were being a wretched bitch."

"hey now," ashe says, a little edge to their voice, "that's my wife."

you squeeze their hand. "no, he's right. i had deleted his pokemon gold save file right before the elite four."

ashe drops your hand like you scalded them, showing the only horror you've seen this whole time. "you - girl, what the fuck?"

you shrug a little. "i was being a wretched bitch. and he did break my leg about it."

edmund shifts a little. "i just - you are...." his voice dies.

in your family, you don't say i love you. in your family, you don't touch each other or show affection. in your family, you just show up for each other, quietly. neither of you knows how to speak or process what needs to be said. you can see that lacking flashing over his face, literally playing out in shades of crimson. you get that weird twin-sense of something unsaid.

ashe sets the little ceramic people to the side. "she treated you like a person when everyone else treated you like a prophet."

you cut your eyes to them, and then edmund, who gives you one very short, sharp nod. "i, uh. i can. never try." he clears his throat. "i can never try hard enough. for that. i can - what you gave me. by. doing that. by ... just. i made. one thousand. wedding toppers. so it could be perfect. because - i ... it needed to be perfect." he appears to be dying of embarrassment, which does imply he might be capable of dying. oh good. in case i need to try to kill him a third time.

the thought makes a weird, wet laugh bubble out of you. "remember that one time i failed my math test and you set mr. fog's car on fire about it?"

edmund looks shyly at you, and a very small grin spreads across his face. not the dark lord - just a 30-something year old man who has just upset his one-and-only twin.

"you're throwing us the most ostentatious, egregiously expensive wedding," you tell him. "above land."

he frowns a little. "okay, but i'm not doing anything in miami. the vibes there give me the heebie jeebies."

ashe holds up their hand. "and you'll be repaying the deposit on literally everything. oh, and replacing the cake."

you kiss their cheek and then point to him. "and you'll be on time for it."

he shrugs a little. "okay, i literally can't perform miracles, so like. set the bar lower. i can't promise i'll-"

you look down at your feet. "i'd like you to be my man of honor this time. like. by my side. so. you can't be late this time. okay? we do it the right way. finally."

"huh," ashe says, looking between the two of you. "you guys have the same smile."

edmund's grin becomes a little wider, a little easier. he raises an eyebrow at them. "okay, i get that you're cool, but you're like, very cool about this whole thing."

ashe lifts a shoulder. "used to work for the monster under the bed."

"oh shit, simon? fuck." he points to them. "remind me not to mess around with you."

you want to tell edmund i love you and i missed you, but you can't. instead, you pick up the figurines. they're not perfect, but you can tell hours of his life went into each. his hands are so big - it must have taken him so much work to make these things so small. you picture him with his back bent over a workbench, trying to get a face into a tiny clay figure. the ceramic version of you is smiling. he's given you little fangs and a unibrow. he gave ashe a tiny yellow crown. you make the two figures kiss.

snow is falling indoors, little icicles of hellfire. ashe reaches out and take edmund's hand, and then, very awkwardly, he reaches out and takes yours too.

for a moment, it's just the three of you, and the beautiful quiet of the room.

You’re standing at the altar, about to get married to your beautiful fiancée. When suddenly the king of demons bursts through the door of the room, which naturally causes panic. You tried to warn everyone that inviting your sibling to the wedding would mean trouble, but they kept insisting.

[tonycries]

BUTTER

Synopsis. First time cúmming inside = first time losing his mind.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, creampíes, PÚSSYDRÚNK JJK MEN, breéding, cúmplay, men whímpering, virgínity loss (Choso), overstím, ínnapropriate use of jujutsu, GOJO’S POWERS, proposals, full nélson, true form Sukuna, dp, spítting, p slápping, p talking, limitless, oraI (fem rec.), pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 5.9k

A/N. Hope y’all have a lovely week <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Earned it.

“I-is she really tellin’ me to hah- f-fill her up inside, doll?” Toji breathes, dazed eyes locked down at your stuffed entrance. And he can barely focus his gaze - barely even try to sound like himself right now. “I-is this real?”

Ragged rasps just about half as ruined as he feels, lilting up in pitch. In strain. Sharp intakes of breath becoming so labored when his entire hulking body wracks with a heaving shiver. 

And Toji’s scrambling his thick fingers to latch roughly onto your face, your waist - anywhere and everywhere that might help him keep an ounce of his sanity.

But it was too late.

“Heh, did I hngh- fuck the rationality outta ya? You really want me t-to-” Head throwing back, he can’t even think of finishing his sentence. Of doing anything other than curling one set of fingers around your throat. Biceps flexing when he shoves you even harder onto all fours on the silken sheets, he cranes over to place a line of pretty pecks down your teary cheeks, panting, “Well…wh-whatever my girl wants- she gets, right?”

And he meant it.

Oh, he couldn’t even believe it. Toji had your pretty pussy overfilled with all of his thick, thorough inches - slamming his hips drunkenly against yours when you’d babbled to cum inside. Fuck, it’s so real.

And that’s all it takes for him to clamor up one of his staggeringly muscular thighs up onto the plushy bed. To messily slip and slide across the saturated puddle of your sweet, sweet dripping juices and press his foot down shamelessly on your head. Like he couldn’t get enough.

The new angle nestles his hefty cock disruptively, dredges of his sweltering hot precum splat! against every inch of your clingy cunt.

“Oh yeah- th-this is the stuff.” His dark, dewy eyes veer to the very back of his head, hissing when his achy cock expands open your gummy walls. Throbbing head swelling plumper to curve even deeper, “Let me- l-let me hear ya, ma-”

Your trembly fingers rake a reddened line down his calf. Gasping for air at the way the rotund end of his angry, strawberry-pink tip kisses against your g-spot so snugly. “W-wan’ it so badly- please.”

“Want what?” Toji’s teasing tone rumbles from behind, and he’s gyrating his hips ever-so-slightly slower. Making sure to draw out those wet, translucent glides down your tight channel, “Can’t- can’t hear you-”

Honestly, he had absolutely no idea whether it was because of your honeyed tone breaking out into the cutest of whimpers, or because Toji’s ears were popping. Swatting a wet smack! at your beading clit to get you to yelp, his drawling mouth moves all by itself. “Already asked- t-tell me now unless ya want me to cum outside-”

“No! No no no-” And that was all the threat it took to have you careening unsteadily onto your elbows, fully forgetting the mean restraint of Toji’s foot on top of you. “Please- need you to cum inside please-”

“Louder.”

You’re sneakily shivering your hips down every one of his rummaging inches. “Toji-”

“Ohhhh- my bad.” With a slight snicker, his tongue glissades a wet gloss down the very edges of his scar. Leaving rounded circular bruises at your bobbing throat just how harshly Toji was jostling you with the vice-like embrace, and you can only manage out a few sniffles when he drags by one strong arm to crash the recoil into his ruthless hips. Dangerously stopping you in your tracks. Humming, “Stop fuckin’ running, I w-was talkin’ to ya pretty pussy.”

Your bleary eyes snap open, “What–”

“Shhh, doll- stop whining so much–” he’s cooing in a syrupy slow cadence. “Jus’ needa- needa hear it from her.”

Slapping down his leaky cockhead along your sloppy hole every few strokes, having you drooling a glossy sheen down his thick shaft like you were painting him. So much of it that the dripping wet noises were resounding in Toji’s ears, dancing around his melty mind like his new favorite song. 

Oh, he loved to hear it. Over and over and-

“S-so soaked.” he’s groaning out like a mantra, darkened eyes grifting together. Mouth can all but lift his drunken maw slack open at every tightening clamp of your syrupy pussy, “You want me to cum inside this badly, doll?” 

And you feel your puffed-up pussy lips get even more soaked at the utter pussydrunk look on Toji’s usually smug-features. “Because I’ve been thinking about this e-ever since the day I met ya-” He’s craning over - hunching, more like.  Baring you with his most crazed gaze, “To breed ya- to fill you up ‘ntil you think you’re gonna hah burst. To make ya a pretty momma so-” Back muscles flexing, abs aching with fatigue, lips dragging a sopping wet kiss. “-please let me cum inside.”

Ah, who was Toji Fushiguro against you?

Because as soon as your head even dares to move within the inch of that half-delirious nod you send his way, Toji’s sopping your insides sloshing wet with his cum. For the first time. In awe. Load after load being fucked up into you - white flashes behind your eyes when you feel it knock against your womb, trickling down over your cervix.

And there’s so much of it.

“Gonna have yer g-gorgeous eyes-” he slurs, crushing you with his full body weight. “-n’ your smile fuck- my love for ya-” It won’t’ stop - Toji can’t stop, can’t reel back the weepy curving divot of his head. “M’thinking four- no- five.” Still oozing out a milky gloss even when he’s dragging his fat cock out of your hole. 

Still cumming. Smearing every nook and cranny of the sheet below white as he flips you around and plants a sudden smack! on your overspilling pussy, gushing out obscenely when Toji’s urgently bringing his face down, down, down.

“Oh. Fuckin’ delicious.” His eyes droop half-lidded at the heavenly sight - shit, he could get used to this. Mouth watering, his feverish breath wafts all over your sensitive pussy. “I earned this, didn’t I, ma?”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Happy wife, happy life

“Ken-”

“...”

“Ken.”

But oh, Nanami Kento can’t even hear his pretty wife right about now. Can’t do anything but shove his greedy tongue down the ends of your sopping wet slit, pooling your syrupy juices all the way down to his throat.

In fact, the only response you’re being gifted with is a furious pull on his dangling work tie - barely even bothering to change out of it - to be able to swipe his nose down more freely in a long kiss down your puffy clit. More, more, more-

Keening, your fingers tangle into Nanami’s blond strands - tugging, dragging, but shit, he couldn’t - wont. It hurt for him to even think of pulling away. Roughened palms scissor past your folds, and he pants, “P-please- fuck- just a bit- more-”

He was addicted. Gone. 

“B-but Ken-” Couldn’t register anything past the way your voice was dipping into a whiny territory right now that made him twitch dangerously. That is, until- “Wan’ to cum w-with you- to have you ah- cum inside-”

Oh.

If you thought that Nanami was drunk on you before then you were completely unprepared for the way that singular babbling plea make him still. 

It makes him gasp, honeyed eyes widening, feverish breaths spilling out in heaving puffs of condensation - once, twice. Before your back is suddenly slamming down on the counter, legs splayed out shamefully by Nanami’s sturdy forearms, and your cunt-

Fuck, in a few split-seconds, you were being stuffed so thoroughly open. Nanami’s reddish cockhead springing down to gift a wet thwack! thwack! thwack! on your puffed-up clit, he’s swiping down the ends of your drooling lips. 

“I-inside?” he breathes, a few octaves higher than usual.

You’re nodding, your fingers twirling around his haphazard tie. “Inside.”

“Anything…” Nanami breathes, and he sounds like he doesn’t even know that he’s saying the words. Barely ripping his gaze from you to scramble for your left hand - before placing a sweet, sweet peck on that cool wedding band on your ring finger. “Anything f-for you, my love.”

You’re almost crying at that ruthless stretch of his globular tip poking at your insides, he’s caving in a way open - and even after so many years, you’ve never gotten used to how staggeringly big Nanami’s girth was. How his curved divot was steaming out a thick wad of precum that already made you feel so full.

Now, you two had discussed kids - but never acted upon it like this. This needy. This frenzied-

“Wh-whatever you want, y’know-” He’s humming depravedly into your mouth like a mantra,  thumbing past your pouty lips to spit into your mouth. And that very sight of those translucent splatters makes his hips stutter mindlessly, “Anything for you- anything for the future momma of my kids-”

Shit, you throw your head back as soon as he’s grazing two digits down the very hood of your neglected clit - only for Nanami to jostle your head over his hands.

“C-careful-” he murmurs, hand dipping down to massage your neck. Your shoulders - all while his fat cock was rummaging every nook and cranny of your insides. “-don’t wan’ you to hurt your- hah-self, darling. S’not good f-for the-”

Baby.

Nanami doesn’t think he can even bear to say that simple word right about now. 

Risking losing whatever’s left of his sanity, he’s wrapping one beefy arm around your middle to crush your body to his. And before you know it, you’re being hastily jostled off of the counter and dangled midair - all while your gentle husband barely even breaks a sweat. Utilizing the lewd properties of gravity to let you bounce down onto his long length and back upwards. His voice cracks, “-baby.”

“Ah-” your trembly hands wrap their way around his neck, giving Nanami the perfect angle to pepper peck after sultry peck onto your bouncing tits. “D-don’t hah- drop me, Ken, m’kay?”

Drop you?

Drop you?

God, he lets out a slight chuckle at the very thought. Angling to rut his inches even deeper upwards, every tiny massage of your elastic walls around his painful cock makes Nanami nod. So fervently that stray strands stick to his prespired forehead. Such a pretty mess of your sensible husband. “Mhm- w-won’t drop you, I swear- I swear-”

Hips speeding up in such a sloppy way now, but even how you’re tightening his tie won’t make Nanami stop - slow down.

“Promise?”

Slowly, his dribbling cock gushes out even in even more velvety ribbons, you’re watching in such delirious awe at the way those delicate strings of slick and spit stretch all down his pinkish shaft. 

“Promise-” he groans, feeling light-headed. Heavy balls thwacking in a sticky staccato against your ass. Fingers gliding up, up, up to where he was nudging your sensitive g-spot, bruising out his circumference on all your sensitive areas. Kiss after French kiss into your gooey heaven. He presses down. “-gonna f-fill you up right here- won’t miss. Swear I won’t m-miss-”

And he doesn’t.

God, he grows sullenly quiet to hear all those delicious squelches the very moment Nanami’s steaming hot cum is spilling into you. Warming you from the very insides- and your own orgasm has you seeing stars. 

Sloshing around in his favorite little swivels, he can’t help but let his hips gyrate slowly to feel it coat a creamy gloss down his sensitive cock. To feel your tiny whimpers and whines when his seed dredges down your womb. Drip! drip! dripping onto the kitchen tile in an echoing splatter from your slobbery slit. 

You leave a wet peck at the ends of his curled lips, “W-wan’ keep it all inside, Ken- all of it-”

God, you were going to be the death of him.

“M’gonna marry you all over again- s-swear and- and…” And just then, he shudders so violently that you fear for a split-second, legs around his toned waist tightening. “-o-oh, my love- m’gonna cum again.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - “U-use me.”

“I-I’m so close-”  Geto finds it in himself to grit his teeth, to force his jittery fingers up to pinch your plump clit. “-gonna cum- fuck, s-stop riding me, honey- unless ya want me to fill you up heh-”

It’s said so low and sultry and even through your hazy mind, you know that it’s a simple tease coming from your boyfriend. You know that he didn’t mean anything by it - but that certainly doesn’t stop the way that your hands grasp around his shoulders, knocking your heads into a messy French kiss. “But, I want you to, Sugu.”

Oh. 

Geto Suguru can’t hide the way his chest heaves with a choked-up moan, how his head throws to the very back of his silken pillowcases when his hips rut upwards into you like a fucking animal.

It’s like he was out of control. Ears ringing with the words, it takes the cult leader below you every shred of will in his entire body to groan out, “D-don’t joke like that- fuck- gonna give me a heart attack, y’know-”

“M’not joking.”

Shit, his eyes widen. Straying down to where your puffy pussy lips were bulging around his fat girth, swallowing up every greedy inch that you were being drilled with. Throat dry, every sound that comes out of him now is painfully raspy, “Y-you fuckin’ mean it? Better not be fuck- talking outta this naughty-” Swat! Coming down to kiss a punishing smack against the edges of your drooling cunt. “-pussy.”

You couldn’t fake the way that makes you glissadingingly drenched even if you wanted to. Nails raking down Geto’s curvaceous pecs to steady your stuttering hips, your bounces grow frantic. 

“Please- c-cum inside-” begging. Maybe you were cockdrunk already, pouting in a way that has his hefty, cum-filled balls squeezing. “Jus’ want you all inside-”

And when Geto thinks back to this situation, he doesn’t know how he was ever supposed to stand a chance. Because with a gasping ricochet of his fat, curved cock onto your most precious g-spot, he’s surging stringy wads of seeds that trickles down your inner thigh. Cumming and cumming so hard - it’s never felt this good - that he almost forgets it’s too early.

That is, until you’re gasping a soft “Baby, did you-”

“Sh-shut up-” And you swear your big, strong boyfriend whimpers. He’s furiously blinking away those glittery globular tears at the ends of his eyes. A tiny pout smeared across his rosy pink lips when you’re being flipped.

One hand around your throat, the other plugging back creamy dredge after dredge into your drooling cunt. Almost as if it was offensive to him to catch that syrupy drizzle, he’s making such a fucking mess. 

“Such a filthy girl- n’ a filthy cunt-” He sputters out, and Geto felt like he was burning a bright red blush all down his pretty features. Matching the angry way your hips were being slammed into his, “Think you s-sooo fuckin’ fuck- fuck fuck fuck-”

And shit, he can’t even finish his sentence before those moans are petering out into speechlessness. A singular tight squeeze of your gummy walls encircles his hot girth. And it’s enough to make him whine, “Please- fuck, how are you doing this-”

Sounding so genuinely in disbelief, you watch as Geto’s mouth drops lewdly at the way every pearlescent bead of his cum was directed towards your cunt. Seeping out through the edges of your sopping lips.

You’re giggling in a drunken way that makes him flinch, “S-something wrong, Sugu?”

“Don’t-” he bares you with a feral grin. Heavy limbs throwing apart your limp legs to jostle his hips into you even harder, and it’s like Geto was spearheading into your lungs. Swiping up translucent wet splatters of his fat head in delicious drags down your spongy cervix. Hissing that even the slightest bit of recoil had him parting from the melty depths of your pussy. “-don’t call m that ‘nless you want me to- oh-” His dewy eyes roll to the back of his head, leaving another unapologetic smack! on your peaked clit. “-t-too late. M’gonna cum- fuck fuck fuck- n’ s’all your fault-”

“Awww–” Teasingly, your fingers drag through his long curtain of hair, scratching lightly at Geto’s scalp in a way that makes him purr. “-how can I hah- make it up to you, Sugu?”

The only thing he wanted right now was to cum inside you again. Once more. Twice. Thrice. Again and again and-

“Use me-” Geto gasps, and he’s careening his head down for what you assumed would be one of his favorite messy kisses - only to wrap those pinkish lips around your tongue and suck. “Use me use me- ohh please, use me- honey- make me a daddy. D-don’t even care anymore-”

And when he cums, Geto’s filling your already sloshingly drenched cunt with heavy loads of his seed. Sticky and honeyed enough that it’s next to impossible for him to pull out and sheath his rock-hard dick unforgivingly into your pussy. 

One of the biggest threats to jujutsu society - whimpering when he spews out a stream of wet swears into your open-mouth, shivering at every one of your milking clamps to drag out something delicious from him. 

He’s curling his hulking body into yours, dripping fingers glistening all the way down to Geto’s wrist with just how much of his loads he’d shoveled all the way back inside your cunt. Giving your sloppy hole a languid circle around the diameter with his slender fingers, before popping them into his mouth. 

And Geto can only see stars behind his eyes, he can only moan at the taste, “I think…” Peaking out a hazy eye at your squirming figure - where the hell did you think you were going? He’s hypnotized, dragging you back into his clutches with a hand curled prettily around your throat. “-that w-we’re not done until m’cumming b-blanks, honey.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Marry you…

One swipe - just one swipe of Choso’s fattened, blushing red tip down your slit is all that it takes for his stupidly pussydrunken eyes to run to the back of his head. For his drooling mouth to slack open with all the utter need of a virgin, “Please-”

You’re humming through your moans, arching your body just right for him to feed you more and more of his half-flaccid inches. “Tell me what you want, baby-”

Fuck, he’s winking open his eyes to peer down at you. Hands traveling their way to roughly jostle your pliant body into one of the meanest mating presses you’d never thought your dear inexperienced best friend possible.

“N-noo–” Choso’s whining, pressing wet pecks down your lips. “Don’t call me that, baby- or else m’gonna…”

Choso’s handsome cheeks burn a shameful red when his eyes drift down to the gooey splatters of cum smeared along your stomach from not too long ago. Just the prospect of being able to put it in too much for his fried brain to handle.

And you’re finding your fingers darting across the glossy sheen sticking to your skin, bringing those drippingly wet digits up, up, up for Choso to gladly wrap his lips around. Sucking. 

“But I want you to, Cho–” Watching as his eyes widen, mouth dropping into a soft oh! Your voice drops into such a hum that makes his swollen tip twitch startlingly. “Want you to c-cum inside m-”

Shit, he doesn’t hear the rest of the sentence - and he doesn’t want to. 

Not unless Choso wants to make an even bigger fool of himself in front of his pretty best friend that oh-so-kindly suggested taking away his virginity. Not like there’s anyone else he’d even dream of giving it to.

Thick, sculpted thigh hiking up, he’s slamming his hefty cockhead down until your swollen folds were kissing up in a sweet, sweet pucker against his thick hilt. Grinding in slow, sultry gyrations upwards like he still wanted to stuff you with more, more, more- 

“I-I can can cum inside?” Forehead beading with sweat, lower lip wobbling with the sheer effort that it took to merely hold back the way that his achingly hard cock was straining for release once more. Hissing at the almost sizzling drag of precum down your bulging g-spot. “For my first time? Inside? R-really inside?”

And despite the way that he was so patiently waiting for your answer, Choso couldn’t help the way the greedy curve of his thumb swipes down your peaked clit. Rolling in lazy circles - low, and slow to make your gummy walls clench in that particular way he’s slowly gotten addicted to. 

You’re nodding with a smug smile at how pretty he looked all fucked-out like this. Darkened eyes all droopy and half-lidded like he was blinking through syrup, muscles twitching mouth-wateringly, hair browner than usual with his sweat-dampened streaks. You can’t help but wring your fingers through his locks and tug, in a way that makes him hiss. In a way that makes him gasp. 

In a way that has him spurting out a thicker stream of precum into your gooey cunt - close. So close. “Mhm– let it a-all out inside, baby.”

Oh god, and then he does-

He does and Choso’s sure he sees the pearly gates of heaven right then and there, and he knows you’re his very own angel.

“Move your pretty fingers, baby– I wan’ you to t-take it all-” It’s not even mean the way he swats away one of your hands subconsciously cupping your split pussy - it’s just desperate. So that he can place pound after filthy pound to fuck you into the soaked sheets. 

Whining out, “Yeah please- fuck-”  Snapping his flexible body down until you were folded helplessly in half, every languid second is spent with such velvety ropes of cum being stuffed down to the bottom of your pussy. “Wan’ this forever- forever please-” Thick, stringy wads that stick and slide down your walls - that overspills when it’s too much for your snug channel to take. “W-want this…”

And just one look of his greedy gazy downwards And Choso’s gasping like he couldn’t even believe he could cum this much - couldn’t even believe he could stop at this point.

“Marry me-” he’s sputtering, eyes clearer with the sudden idea. As if he’s imagining it already. Hips shifting to lazy down his sloppy staccato into something more thorough. “B-be my wife- have my kids- please-” Something that has your toes curling with pleasure, branding every ridge and thumping vein down his shaft into your walls contorting around him. Hiccuping - little sobs curling at the back of his throat, “Please- please I need you to marry me-” 

It’s overspilling - adding to that little milky pool from below. He’s barely even thinking before swiping a hand through some of those creamy remnants of cum. Sucking. Taking your own - popping that ring finger of yours into his mouth.

Drool drips down the side of his sodden lips, moving to mewl softly. “D-did that really just happen?”

The words come out nothing but a whisper, strangled and strained from the very depths of his rumbling chest. And Choso’s peering down at you like you were everything - his softening cock sending sparks down his spine with every slight rub down your sopping wet folds. 

“Mhm–” your hands make their way down his pecs, rubbing over pert, pink nipples. Something that makes him let out a low shudder, reddened divot bursting in a few more wispy strings of seed. “N’ you did so hngh- good, Cho.”

“D-did I? Was I your oh- good boy?” he stutters, before letting out a keening pout. “B-but I need to have you cum, too, baby- need to have you cum-” And you’re so at his ravenous mercy when Choso swipes a wet thumb over and over down your throbbing clit. “-and then- then can we get married?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - MESS!

“What the fuck-” The king of curses breathes - he heaves - like never before, even in that human form of his right now. “Wh-what the fuck have you done to me, woman-”

And all the foes in the world had nothing against your honeyed whines. Absolutely no match for the way your elastic walls were clinging around his throbbing cock so tight. No match for your cockdrunk babbling that drove him insane.

“Such a filthy mouth you h-have-” he groans, leering over his inhumanly powerful body to bend over yours. You’re gaping when one of his big, beefy arms jostle you upwards into a headlock. Even shapeshifted from his true form, he was still so strong. Spitting, “Do you dare to- fuck- move those pretty lips of yours n’ repeat those words back to me, brat.”

As if you could do anything else. 

“I-I said-” you’re choking out, panting in feverish gasps of the heady air. “-said I want you to c-cum inside-”

Oh. 

In a split-second, you’re feeling your tautly stretched walls expand to limits you weren’t even sure were possible. The very bottom of your pussy being ravaged with two circular brandings - two. Two matching rock-hard cocks jostling around you. 

And the stretch of Sukuna’s devilishly true form opening your cunt to its very limits is so maddening that it takes you a second to realize that the rest of him had shapeshifted, too. 

Suddenly bigger, suddenly more towering, suddenly the king of curses. 

His strong forearm curls even tighter around your throat, knocking the remaining gasps out of your lungs. “Seriously? L-look where talking outta ya slutty pussy hah- got me-” Sukuna chuckles. Deep and rumbling from his bulging pecs, “-c-can’t even hold a n-normal form- you made me do this- fuck-”

He was fucking you like it was your fault.

Solid inches upon inches that were bruising. And if you thought that Sukuna’s size was staggering in whatever human form he’d conjured up for the safety of your poor pussy - it was absolutely incredible with both his twin girthy cocks. Bigger, thicker. The slightest ruts and grinds into your gushing cunt having him knocking into your lungs, painting down a hefty load of steamy precum. 

Messy.

“Messy-” you hear a primal rumble from above you. Shit, did you say that out loud? Condensed breath heady and hot against your ear, “Heheh- you think this is m-messy, lil’ human? Wait until I-I- hah-”

“Y-you’re really gonna cum inside, Kuna?” you’re batting your teary lashes up at your king, a delirious smile smearing itself all over your face. 

Wobbling when his snapping hips purposefully slow down to mere gyrating squelches, every push and pull feeding your slobbery pussy languidly. You have him hypnotized, maw slacking open with every lazy drag of his heavy cocks back and forth back and forth back and- “Mhm- gonna fill ya up. Breed ya u-until you’re begging that ya can’t take it. Until y-you’re all round n’ glowing with my heirs.”

God. He was out of control.

“I-I can take it-” Your nails rake airily down his ever-tightening forearm - nothing but mere kitten scratches to Sukuna. “Promise Kuna- I can-”

“Tch- this damn naughty m-mouth of yours.” he smirks in a sleazy way - just about all that Sukuna can do to not let his voice break out in whimpers right now. All he can do to hold back his building high, curvaceous tips of his thickened cocks spazzing out tight, voluminous globs of wispy white. He’s covering your prattling mouth with one hand, “Take it then- take it- but ya better make an equal mess f’me. Heh-”

Even through your bleary mind, you already knew what he wanted - to have you squirt all down Sukuna’s weepy cocks. To make a mess. 

Always his favorite.

“Th-think ya can do that?” He snarls down at you, twiddling a few sopping wet digits to toy with your pulsing clit. Third and fourth arms snaking around your waist to keep from your pathetic scrambling. To stop your escape when his hips jackhammer away harder. “Can you- my queen?”

Oh, he cuts himself off with a whimper.

Because all of a sudden your gushing cunt is surging out in waves of translucent slick. It sticks to his rubbing cocks - and all the way to his washboard abs -like a gloss, stars behind your eyes when Sukuna’s fucking you through your high. Praises slipping out in a way that would’ve tarnished the king’s reputation if anyone found out.

But right now, he didn’t care. 

Not when he’s all but bursting from his bawling tips - such thick rivers of cum that knock mercilessly into your gummy spots. The force of both his fat heads streaming out relentlessly is enough to leave your forbidden sweet spots all bruised and battered. 

Inflating your snug channel until Sukuna only had to slide a hand down to about halfway down your abdomen, pressing down at that nudge. “Heh, s’right at h-home-” 

And now that he’s filled your pretty pussy with seed, Ryomen Sukuna doesn’t think it’s possible to cum anywhere else. With a shuddering hiss, he’s dragging his cocks out, spying down with hooded eyes at the way your sloppy entrance was molding and constrictign around him - like you were trying to milk the fucking soul out of him.

But Sukuna had other plans - plans that included letting his second tongue loll out, rough tastebuds sweeping a long lick down your leaky slit. Creamy cum trickling down the pinkish muscle, and he could feel his mouth grinning. Something he’s been wanting to do since he moment he fucking saw you.

“H-hey-” you’re turning your head to huff back at him. 

Smack!

“Ahh, stop yer whining-” Sukuna’s smoothing one hand down over the raised bumps of all five digits on your ass, another one of his hands guiding his fat bases to drive up your sopping crease. Pooling the milky remnants on his rotund tips. “-because m’not done breeding this cunt properly yet, my queen.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Limit(less)

“This time-” Gojo’s heaving out a dragging shudder, his face burying hotly within the tender crook of your neck. Spitting - panting, “This time this time- this- time-”

Oh, it’s been just about the same thing that he’s been babbling for the past few hours now. All that he can utter after so long of his sensitively overworked cock stuffing in and out over your overspilling cunt, flickers of jujutsu bolting with every sodden drag down your melty walls.

Truly, the strongest didn’t expect to be addicted the first time he filled your drooling pussy with thick globs of his seed - it was an accident, the first trial of trying to use limitless for its…unintended purposes. 

But right now, Gojo had absolutely no clue if this was the nth trial or whether he was simply addicted to breeding your pretty cunt.

“T-Toru–” Your fingers scramble backwards to bury in his snow locks - difficult, with the way that your boyfriend was wrangling you into a tight full nelson. Feeling the push and pull of thick cursed technique in the air - inside you. “-s’not gonna work.”

God, just the sear of your grip on his scalp is enough to have Gojo’s hips rutting up in a perfect curve off the plush king-size mattress. Fucking up into your cunt so thoroughly that you gasp at the syrupy slosh of his cum from before inside you. 

His hiccups, voice cracking into a whine at the very end. “D-do you hate me, sweetheart?”

“No?” you’re breathing out in exasperation. But shit, you underestimate just how crazed this tiniest sentiment would drive him, choking back a strangled cry of your name when he’s sending a buzzing smack! down to the hood of your plump cunt. “Fuck- why would you think-”

“Th-then let me use limitless as a- hah- condom, pretty girl-” he’s whining. And you jolt at the wet splatters of a few stimulated, pearlescent tears slipping their way out of Gojo’s eyes. “It’ll work- this time- m’the strongest- s’gonna hah- w-work- a-and if not m’jus’ breedin’ my girl’s cute cunt, r-right?”

But even as he’s prattling on and on about this, you’re feeling the flickering falter of jujutsu around Gojo’s hefty girth. Molding your gummy walls taut around his fat circumference, your spine arches with electricity. 

“Heheh-” Goosebumps prickle down your spine at the high, humorless bout of laughter at your ear - and you crane your head to look at Gojo. Sure that he’s lost it. Already wondering just how high the kill count would be. “-didn’t think th-this pretty pussy of yours would have me so ruined, sweetheart.”

And truly - he sounded like it. 

He looked like it, with his rosy lips ajar, those cerulean eyes watery and half-lidded. Glowing with power and tiny shivers of lighting at every sodden kiss to the bullseye of your g-spot. Clashing over and over in a wet push and pull, Gojo thinks that he could almost feel the rotund indentations of his curved tip right on your sweetest spots. 

“Looks like y-you’re the one ruining me- Toru-” you whine. “Just look-”

Drunkenly, Gojo’s lolling his head to the sound of your voice. Not even looking, barely even thinking - that is, until he sees.

And Gojo can’t help but let out a slew of honeyed, pathetically cracking profanities at the heavenly sight below. Pale forearms stretching out your trembly thighs even more shamefully wide to get an even closer look. 

Of your quivering hole winking up at him glisteningly, coating his fat hilt a creamy ring of white from so many of his failed attempts. Your saturatedly wet pussy lips were practically gulping up all of his heavy inches, slobbering a slow trail of drool down the side of his strawberry pink shaft and onto his twitchy balls. Needy. 

And if Gojo’s limitless protection was unsteady before then-

“Shit-” Gojo takes in a shuddering gasp, slender digits falling down to plant a wet smack! on the very middle of your bulging slit - as if all of this was your fault. “Shit shit shit shit- I-I can’t- oh-” Sharp canines sinking down so hard into your skin that you think he might break through. Just about all that’s keeping Gojo tethered to reality when his limitless shatters. “Oh god. Th-think s’gonna be another b-baby…”

All the way into a zillion pieces of nothingness and-

And then he’s cumming. 

Cumming so hard that the dim lamps by the side of your bed flickers. Then explodes. 

Pouring out such steaming hot piles of his cum - once. Twice. Before his swollen, overwhelmed balls are clenching and then he’s shooting nothing but pathetic blanks. 

It takes you a second to register the sudden darkness - all across Tokyo, in fact. You’re gasping, “O-oh, Toru did you-”

“Run out-” he’s giggling. Giggling. “Fuck you m-made me- hah- really milked me dry, didn’t ya- Spread those pretty legs a bit more, pretty girl. Let me see.” All five rounded pads of his fingers are bruising on your thigh when Gojo’s splaying them out to confirm the sputtering way his cock was driving into you. “Can’t- can’t believe- no way, baby m’supposed t-to fill you up-”

Shit, he was babbling out his true intentions so stupidly. But luck was on his side, because with a final, jujutsu-sheened swat at your cunt, the buzzing power finally sends you over the edge. 

Crashing headfirst into waves upon waves of white-hot pleasure, the engulfing goodness made you squeal. And it made Gojo grit his teeth with a low whimper at the way the simple clenching convulse of your gripping walls wrapped around his cock made him twitch in another dry orgasm. Another. And another. 

God, his first - well, not quite first - time cumming inside you and he’s already so fucked out.

Yet, despite it all, Gojo could almost count it a success…almost. 

“S-sweetheart, y’know Yaga always taught us that science experiments have hah- twenty-five trials, right?”

“...”

A/N. Gojo’s so annoying I love him.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[marshadowstea]

okay word vomit to end the day :3

dont read it, this is mine >:[