Ranking Types Of Hugs He'd Be Comfortable With Another Guy Giving His Gf! A Gojo Satoru Fic/drabble

“Why did Mommy eat me?!”- yuji's last word

The yard was a picture of peace and beauty—sunlight filtering through the cherry blossom trees, petals drifting lazily on the wind, and little Yuji sitting on your lap, kicking his legs. Sukuna, in his full, massive form, lounged nearby against the trunk of a tree, his hulking figure looking both menacing and oddly relaxed. One of his four arms was tossing a piece of fruit in the air, while the other three rested lazily on his lap.

You were gently combing through Yuji’s soft pink hair as he stared up at you with his big, curious eyes. The boy had been unusually quiet for a few minutes, which was always a red flag. He tilted his head at you, his face a mix of innocent curiosity and confusion.

“Mommy,” Yuji began, “where did I come from?”

You smiled softly, brushing a petal off his cheek. “You came from me, sweetheart. You grew in my tummy before you were born.”

Yuji’s little mouth fell open in shock. He pressed his tiny hands to your stomach, eyes wide with disbelief. “In your tummy?” he repeated, as though you had just revealed the greatest secret of all time.

“Mm-hmm,” you nodded, your tone light and warm.

Yuji sat there, stunned, his mind clearly working overtime to process this revelation. Then, his lips quivered, his eyes welled up, and before you could react, he bolted up and sprinted straight to Sukuna, tears streaming down his little face.

“Daddy!” Yuji wailed, throwing himself against Sukuna’s massive arm like it was a fortress. “Why did Mommy eat me?!”

Sukuna froze for a second, his four crimson eyes blinking in disbelief. Then, a deep, rumbling laugh erupted from his chest, so loud it seemed to shake the entire yard. His sharp teeth glinted as he threw his head back, laughing uncontrollably.

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Yuji, that’s not what I meant!” you called, trying not to laugh yourself.

But Yuji clung to Sukuna like his life depended on it. “Daddy, is that why she’s always telling me to eat my food? Because she ate me first?!”

Sukuna was now laughing so hard that tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. “Oh, this is wonderful!” he bellowed, patting Yuji’s back with one massive hand while the others held his stomach. “You’ve truly outdone yourself this time, woman.”

“Don’t encourage him!” you hissed, trying to grab Yuji back, but the little boy was having none of it.

“Don’t let her eat me again, Daddy!” Yuji sobbed, clutching Sukuna’s arm with all the strength his little hands could muster.

Sukuna smirked, his laughter dying down into a devilish grin. “Relax, brat. I’d never let her eat you again. You’re far too noisy to digest properly.”

“HEY!” You protested, throwing a cherry blossom petal at him, which, unsurprisingly, didn’t faze him at all.

Yuji sniffled, his big eyes looking up at Sukuna. “Really?”

“Of course,” Sukuna said, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. “You’re too much trouble. But don’t get any ideas—just because I won’t eat you doesn’t mean I won’t roast you over a fire if you keep crying like this.”

Yuji’s sniffles turned into giggles, his tears drying instantly as he started poking at Sukuna’s arm. “You’d never roast me, Daddy! Mommy says I’m too sweet for that!”

Sukuna rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the tiny smirk tugging at his lips. “Sweet, huh? Must take after your mother, then.”

You finally managed to scoop Yuji back into your lap, shaking your head but smiling. “You’re impossible, both of you.”

Yuji grinned up at you, his earlier distress completely forgotten. “Mommy, next time, can I grow in Daddy’s tummy? He’s bigger!”

Sukuna choked on a laugh, while you just sighed dramatically, pressing a kiss to Yuji’s forehead.

As the peaceful evening resumed, Sukuna leaned back against the tree again, still chuckling under his breath. “You’ve got a weird kid, woman,” he muttered, but the glint of pride in his crimson eyes gave him away.

<><><>

i freaking love baby yuji so much 😭🥹

Mark Grayson 💕 kissing somewhere other than lips

send a heart - 💕 kissing somewhere other than lips

[sort of a part ii to this request x]

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After your workout and a quick shower in the locker room, you were finally done for the day and allowed to go home. You sigh as you heard the automatic doors open & shut for the last barrier to your freedom. This new training Cecil and his team had you on was murder.

You smile despite your sore muscles as you see Mark waiting for you in the hallway. Dressed in his casuals as well. No longer Invincible but Mark Grayson who was going to walk you home. Maybe stay and watch a movie. Maybe do some other stuff…..

“Good work today you two.” You turn to look over your shoulder just as you link your fingers with Mark to see Cecil behind you. How did the man always seem to appear like that? “Stats like that and we’ll be ready for the Super Bowl in no time.” You weren’t sure what the Super Bowl was in this scenario, but Cecil seemed certain it was going to come. “[Y/N], a word?”

Though it was phrased as a question, you knew as well as anyone that it wasn’t. You growl in your throat and squeeze Mark’s hand. “I’ll be back.”

“I’ll be outside.” He promised. Squeezing your hand back before he went out the doors.

You smile wistfully at your sweet boyfriend, before you clear it from your face and turn to Cecil. “Yes?”

“How is the new training going for you?” You arch a brow at Cecil’s question. He knew how it was going. You went over the stats report with the science guys personally with him in the room. So why the question?

“Fine.” You answer cautiously. “Why?”

“I just want to make sure my top players have the resources they need.” There was a pause as you and the older man stare at each other. Finally he added, “how’s Mark doing?”

‘Aahhh’ You thought as you realize you had come to the crux of this line of questioning. This wasn’t about you. It was about Mark. “Mark is fine.”

“You sure about that?” You arch your brow again. Was he questioning how well you knew your boyfriend? “Mark’s been through a lot. His dad tried to kill him, along with half the planet. He had to get his bones and skin stitched back together. People depending on him to save the world.”

“If you’re so worried he can’t handle it, then why don’t you take a little off Mark’s plate so he can.”

Cecil’s frown let you know that he did not like that suggestion. “I’m not saying Mark can’t handle it. I’m saying that I want us to be vigilant in case the boy wonder starts to crack.” It felt like there was another show about to drop. You don’t remember Cecil being this soft or altruistic with the rest of you. “I know you and Mark are close. I’m asking that you help him if he starts to buckle. And, let us know so we can manage it.”

You were shocked. “You want me to spy on Mark.” That’s what all of this was about.

“I’m not asking you to spy on him, [Y/N]. I’m just asking you to keep an eye on him and report back if you notice anything.”

“You literally just said the definition of spying.” You grit your teeth. Disgusted at the mere suggestion you would betray Mark’s trust. “I’ve done a lot of things ‘for the cause’ Cecil. But I’m not doing that.”

“So you would rather get blindsided again like the last time if Mark ever cracks?” Cecil argued. “I’m not asking for State Secrets on him here [Y/N]. I’m just asking for a head up on his mental state.”

“Get him a shrink then if you’re so worried. But I’m not doing it!” This conversation was over as far as you were concerned, so you turned to leave and meet back up with Mark.

“Everything ok?” Mark asked when he saw you. Immediately noticing your annoyed and angry expression.

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine.” You tell him. Quickly schooling your features into something softer. “Just some new thing Cecil wanted me to do for training. And I was like ‘agh…oh my god…enough already…I yield’.” Mark laughed at your joke and kissed your cheek as he re-linked up your hands.

Your smile back to him was a little jilted as you debated on telling Mark what actually happened. It would hurt his feelings to know that the people he was working so hard for him didn’t trust him. That, in the end, despite everything he had done, they still thought he was like his father. But didn’t he deserve to know that the people he was working for didn’t trust him? You weren’t sure what the right answer was.

In the end, you left it alone for now. You weren’t sure if it was the right answer or not, but you just didn’t want to deal with it. You weren’t going to spy on Mark, so what else could they do?

and also an x reader

How it feels going to bed after reading some words

It was angst

EVERY UNIVERSE — viltrumite! mark grayson x reader

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: character death, death in childbirth, grief, delusion, kidnapping, obsession, forced role play, forced marriage, talks of having children, oral sex (fem receiving), sexual assault

MINORS DNI

Mark had fought wars. Conquered planets. Crushed civilizations beneath his fists.

But none of that had ever made his heart pound like this.

He knelt beside the bed, his fingers tightly interlocked with hers as she screamed through another contraction. His free hand pushed damp hair from her forehead, his chest aching at the sight of her tears, the strain in her face.

“You’re doing amazing,” he whispered, his voice barely steady. “Just a little more, okay?”

She didn’t answer, only squeezed his hand tighter. Hard enough that, if he were human, she might have broken something. But he wasn’t. And he wished more than anything that he could take her pain, bear it for her.

Another scream—then the sound of a baby’s first cry split the air.

Mark’s breath hitched.

The doctors moved quickly, cleaning the infant, wrapping him in soft cloth before carefully placing him in Mark’s arms. His son. His beautiful son.

His heart swelled, his chest so full he thought it might burst. He turned immediately, eager to share this moment with her. But then he saw her. Too still. Too pale. His smile faded. “Y/N?”

She blinked slowly, exhaustion weighing heavy on her. But then, she gave him the smallest, softest smile. “Remember,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, “I’ll love you in every universe.”

The monitors shrieked.

“Her heart rate’s dropping!”

“We’re losing her!”

“No—no, no, no—” Mark clutched her hand tighter, desperate, pleading. “Stay with me. Stay with me, please.”

Her fingers, so warm, so full of life just moments ago, slowly went limp. Mark watched helplessly as the light faded from her eyes. As her breath hitched, then stopped. A sound tore from his throat. A broken, wounded thing.

The doctors moved around him, shouting, working. But he already knew. She was gone. His love. His heart. His one weakness. Gone. The baby in his arms whimpered softly, unaware.

Mark barely breathed as he pressed his forehead to hers, his grip on her hand unrelenting, as if he could keep her here by sheer will alone. He had conquered galaxies. But he couldn’t save her. And something inside him shattered.

The nights were always the hardest. Mark sat in the dimly lit nursery, cradling his son against his chest. The baby had finally fallen asleep, his tiny fingers curled into the fabric of Mark’s shirt, his breath warm and steady.

Mark exhaled, pressing a soft kiss to his son’s forehead. “You look like her,” he whispered.

It had been months. Months of waking up to an empty bed. Months of staring at the space beside him, hoping—praying—that maybe it had all been a nightmare. That she’d be there, smiling at him, telling him he was just being dramatic. But she wasn’t. She never would be. A knock at the window broke his thoughts.

Mark turned, already knowing who it was before he even saw him. Nolan. His father hovered just outside, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Mark sighed, carefully laying his son in his crib before stepping onto the balcony.

The cold night air bit at his skin, but he barely felt it. Nolan wasted no time. “You can’t keep doing this.” Mark stiffened. “Doing what?”

“Wasting away here,” his father said, gesturing toward the nursery. “I know you’re grieving. But you’re still Viltrumite. You have responsibilities.” Mark’s jaw clenched. “My responsibility is to my son.”

“Your responsibility is to your empire,” Nolan corrected. “Earth is filled with beautiful women, Mark. You could find someone new. Move on.”

Move on?

Mark’s hands curled into fists, his rage simmering beneath the surface. His father’s words shouldn’t have surprised him, but they did. “There is no moving on,” Mark said coldly.

Nolan shook his head, sighing like he was dealing with a stubborn child. “One of your duties is to repopulate the Viltrum Empire. You know that.” Mark’s stomach turned.

His father made it sound so… mechanical. Like love didn’t matter. Like she didn’t matter. Mark took a step forward, voice dangerously low. “Get out.” Nolan studied him for a long moment before nodding. “You can’t run from your duty forever.”

And with that, he was gone. Mark stood there for a long time, staring into the empty sky before finally going back inside.

His son stirred slightly as Mark sat beside the crib, brushing soft curls from his tiny face. Mark exhaled shakily, leaning down to press a kiss to his son’s forehead.

“I would never replace your mother,” he whispered. “She was one of a kind.” His voice broke on the last word, but he didn’t care. Because it was the truth.

The blood wouldn’t wash off. Mark stood in the ruins of another battlefield, his breathing ragged, his hands trembling at his sides. The bodies of fallen rebels littered the ground, their broken forms barely recognizable.

They had fought back. Resisted his rule. They were gone now. It was becoming easier.

The rage came quicker, burned hotter. The grief never left—it only morphed into something sharper, something ruthless. A blade he wielded without hesitation.

He used to be better than this. But she had made him better. And now she was gone.

“Sir?” A Viltrumite soldier approached cautiously, as if sensing the storm beneath his skin. “The planet is secure.”

Mark didn’t answer at first. He flexed his fingers, still slick with blood, before finally nodding. “Good.” That was it. No mercy. No remorse. Just another victory. Another hollow, meaningless victory.

⸻

He barely slept. When he did, it was worse.

The nightmares were relentless. He saw her face—smiling, laughing, whispering his name—only to watch it twist in pain, her body growing cold in his arms again and again.

Mark would wake up gasping, drenched in sweat, reaching for her—only to find the bed empty.

Always empty. His son was the only thing keeping him tethered.

The boy was growing fast, his mother’s eyes staring up at him with innocent curiosity. But Mark could see it, the way the nannies and caretakers whispered, the way the guards stiffened when he passed.

They were afraid. Of him. And maybe they should be. He wasn’t the same man anymore. He was a weapon with nothing left to lose. And without her, he was slipping. Falling. And soon, he knew, there wouldn’t be anything left to save.

Mark sat alone in his war room, staring at the holographic projections of his conquered territories. Planets bent to his will. Armies at his command. An empire expanding without resistance.

And yet, none of it mattered. It was all meaningless. His fingers tapped against the table, his mind drifting, drowning in memories he couldn’t escape—until a voice interrupted.

“Well, well. You look even worse than I expected.”

Mark’s eyes snapped up. Angstrom Levy stood before him, his usual smug expression in place. The air around him crackled with residual energy from whatever dimension he had just stepped through.

Mark’s body tensed immediately. “You have five seconds to tell me why you’re here before I rip your head off.” Angstrom merely chuckled, unbothered. “I wouldn’t be so hasty. I have something you want.”

Mark’s glare darkened. “There’s nothing you could offer me.”

Angstrom’s smile widened. “Oh, I think there is.”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “What if I told you… you could have her back?”

Mark’s breath caught. His heart—cold and empty for so long—lurched violently in his chest.

Angstrom’s grin grew at his reaction. “There’s a universe out there where she’s alive. Whole. Untouched by tragedy. You could see her again, hold her again.”

Mark’s jaw clenched. “…What’s the catch?”

Angstrom tilted his head, feigning innocence. “That universe—it’s a problem for me. I need it gone. And you… well, you’ve never had an issue destroying things, have you?”

Mark didn’t hesitate. “I’ll do it.” The words left him almost too fast, his desperation barely contained. Angstrom chuckled. “No second thoughts? No moral dilemma?”

Mark’s hands curled into fists. “I don’t care what happens to that universe. I don’t care about anything except her.”

Angstrom nodded approvingly. “Then we have a deal.” He reached out a hand, and without hesitation, Mark took it. A deal with the devil. A promise of salvation. And the only thing standing between him and his wife—was the destruction of an entire world.

Mark stood over his son’s crib, watching as the small child blinked up at him with wide, curious eyes. For a moment, just a moment, the weight of what he was about to do pressed against his chest. He reached down, brushing soft curls from the boy’s forehead, memorizing every detail—his tiny hands, his mother’s nose, the way he reached for his father without hesitation.

Innocent. Oblivious. Mark exhaled sharply. He couldn’t waver now. “I’ll be back,” he whispered, voice firm. “And I’ll bring your mother with me.”

The child let out a small babble, reaching up. Mark allowed himself a single moment of hesitation before pressing a kiss to his son’s forehead.

Then he stepped back, handing him off to the waiting caretaker. The woman held the child close, but her eyes were nervous, wary. She should be.

Mark turned without another word, his cape billowing behind him as he left the nursery. Angstrom was waiting, a smug expression on his face. “Touching.”

Mark didn’t acknowledge the comment. He didn’t care what Angstrom thought. All that mattered was the portal crackling before him, swirling with unstable energy. A gateway to another world.

A world where she was alive. Without hesitation, without fear, Mark flew forward. And as the portal swallowed him whole, only one thought consumed him. Finding her.

Scorched Earth

The sky burned.

Buildings crumbled beneath his fists, entire cities reduced to nothing but dust and ruin. Screams echoed through the streets, but Mark barely heard them.

He moved like a force of nature—unstoppable, unrelenting. This world didn’t matter. These people didn’t matter. Only she did.

Somewhere in this universe, she was alive, breathing, unaware that he was tearing apart her world just to reach her.

Angstrom had delivered on his promise. The coordinates, the exact places where she might be. But Mark wasn’t going to waste time searching quietly.

He would burn this entire planet to the ground if it meant finding her faster.

A hero—a version of someone he might have once called an ally—flew at him, fists glowing with energy. Mark caught his arm mid-strike, crushing bone with barely any effort before throwing the man through a collapsing skyscraper.

A woman in a high-tech suit fired at him, shouting something about surrender.

Mark punched clean through her chest, barely sparing her a glance as her body hit the ground. None of it mattered. None of them mattered.

He flew through the smoke-choked air, eyes scanning the ruins below. The scent of fire and blood filled his lungs.

Then—he saw her. Or rather, a version of her. Standing in the middle of a shattered street, staring at him with wide, terrified eyes. Mark’s heart pounded.

He landed hard enough to crack the pavement, stepping forward, fists still bloodied, eyes wild. Her lips parted, confusion flickering across her face. “…Mark?”

A broken breath left him. It was her. It was really her. For the first time in years, his heart felt like it was beating again.

His muscles loosened, his breath shaky as he took another step forward, reaching out— But she took a step back. And the look in her eyes wasn’t love. It was fear. Mark’s fingers twitched. His mind screamed at him that it didn’t matter, that she would understand, that she would see soon enough that he was doing this for her.

A tremor ran through the ground as another explosion shook the city. Smoke curled in the air between them. Mark clenched his jaw.

No matter what she thought now—no matter how much she resisted—he had already decided. He had come too far. She wasn’t going to slip away from him again. She took another step back.

Mark’s stomach twisted. He could hear her heartbeat, the sharp, uneven rhythm of it. Not with love, not with relief— With fear. “No,” he said, almost pleading. He took a step forward, closing the space she was so desperately trying to create between them. “It’s me.”

She didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Her eyes darted to the bodies, the fire, the shattered remains of her city.

He followed her gaze, and for the first time, he saw what she saw. Not a lover. Not a husband. A monster. Mark swallowed hard. “I did this for you.” She flinched.

His hands clenched into fists. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She was supposed to run to him, throw her arms around him, tell him she’d been waiting. That she’d missed him as much as he missed her.

Instead, she was trembling.

“Stay away from me,” she whispered.

Mark froze.

She didn’t mean that. She couldn’t.

Not her.

Not after everything he had done—everything he sacrificed—just to see her again.

The ground trembled as another explosion rocked the city. Her gaze flickered to the destruction, then back to him. And she ran. Mark stood there for half a second, stunned, before instinct kicked in. It didn’t matter. She could run. He was faster.

Before she could take three steps, he was on her, an iron grip closing around her wrist. He barely registered her gasp of fear as he spun her toward him, crushing her against his chest.

“Let me go!” she screamed, thrashing, but he didn’t. He couldn’t.

He buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply, his entire body trembling.

“I lost you once,” he murmured. “I’m not losing you again.”

She shoved at his chest, panic lacing her every movement. “You’re not my Mark—”

His grip tightened.

“This universe tried to take you from me,” he said, his voice dangerously calm. “I won’t let it.”

She whimpered, twisting in his grasp, her struggles growing weaker against his impossible strength.

He pressed his lips to her temple. “No matter what happens,” he whispered, “you’re coming home with me.”

She was so still in his arms.

Mark barely heard the others as he landed in front of the house—Debbie’s house. Or at least, the version that existed in this universe. His mother wasn’t here, not really. None of these people mattered.

But she did.

Her unconscious body was warm against his chest, her face relaxed in a way he hadn’t seen in years. He held her just a little closer.

The other Marks were already gathered, watching him with varying expressions. Some amused, some indifferent.

“Why the hell did you bring her?” One of them, sporting a yellow and black suit, frowned. Mark didn’t even look up. “She was part of my deal.”

Mohawk! Mark scoffed, smirking. “Look at this guy—so pussy whipped he traveled across dimensions!”

A few of them chuckled, but he didn’t react. Viltrumite Mark growing annoyed with the Mohawk variant, spoke. “Where is Angstrom?”

The others shrugged, murmuring amongst themselves. Then, as if on cue, a green portal cracked open before them.

Viltrumite! Mark barely paid attention to the conversation that followed. He knew the drill—Angstrom would send them all home, back to their respective worlds, back to the wars and chaos and bloodshed that defined them.

But for once, Mark wasn’t thinking about any of that. His attention remained on the woman in his arms, his fingers absently brushing against her back. He’d spent so long fighting, so long clawing his way through blood and ash, just for this moment.

For her.

The portals to their dimensions flickered to life. The others began stepping through, disappearing one by one.

Mark adjusted his grip on her, cradling her closer as he moved toward his own portal.

And then—he was home. His warships still filled the sky. His empire still stood, unshaken. The weight of responsibility loomed overhead, but none of it felt as heavy anymore. Not now. Not with her back in his arms.

He gazed down at her peaceful face, brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek. “Welcome home, my beloved,” he whispered.

She stirred in his arms. Mark felt it instantly—the faint movement, the shift in her breathing. His grip on her tightened instinctively. She was waking up. Good. He wanted her to see.

Mark flew straight to the palace, the grand structure carved into the remains of a conquered world. It loomed over the city, a symbol of power and absolute rule. His soldiers bowed as he passed, their gazes flickering to the unconscious woman in his arms, but none dared to question him.

Inside, the halls were cold and vast, built for a king, not a man. The walls were adorned with war banners, artifacts of his victories. He had everything—an empire, an army, a legacy that stretched across the stars.

And now, he had her.

He entered his private chambers, stepping past the balcony that overlooked the city. With careful hands, he laid her down on the large, ornate bed, adjusting her so she rested comfortably against the soft fabric.

Mark sat beside her, watching, waiting. A soft sound escaped her lips. Then, slowly, her eyelashes fluttered, and her breathing hitched. She was awake.

Her eyes met his, and for a brief second, there was nothing but confusion—until it all came rushing back. The invasion. The destruction. Him. Her body tensed, her breathing sharp and uneven. Mark reached out, brushing his fingers against her cheek. She flinched. His expression darkened. “Don’t look at me like that,” he murmured.

She shoved at his chest, scrambling backward. “What did you do?” Her voice trembled, her gaze darting around the unfamiliar room, realization sinking in. “Where am I?” Mark caught her wrist before she could move any further. He pulled her close, forcing her to face him.

“You’re home,” he said simply.

Her breath hitched. “No—no, this isn’t—” Mark shushed her, pressing his forehead against hers. “I know it’s overwhelming,” he whispered. “But you’ll see. This is where you belong.”

She trembled in his grasp. “You killed all those people—”

“I had to.” His voice was firm, resolute. “I did it for you.”

Tears welled in her eyes, but Mark only held her closer, his thumb tracing gentle circles against her wrist. “You’ll understand soon enough,” he murmured. He wouldn’t let her go. Not this time.

Mark sat on the throne, fingers drumming idly against the armrest, his gaze locked on her.

She sat on the edge of the massive bed, stiff and silent, her hands gripping the sheets as if they were the only thing grounding her. She hadn’t spoken since he’d told her she was home. She was still processing. That was fine. She had time.

The heavy doors creaked open. Mark didn’t look away from her as his father stepped into the room, his presence as commanding as ever. Nolan was one of the few people who could enter without permission, but even he hesitated at the sight before him.

Mark finally turned, watching as his father’s eyes landed on her. Nolan stilled. His brows furrowed. He took a slow step forward, then another, his expression unreadable.

“I don’t know how you managed to do that…” Nolan muttered, eyes flickering between Mark and the woman sitting frozen on the bed. Then, to Mark’s satisfaction, his father’s lips curled into something almost approving. “…But good job, son.”

Mark’s chest swelled at the praise. Nolan looked at her again, studying her face—the same face that belonged to a woman who had died years ago. He exhaled, shaking his head slightly.

“Interesting.” His gaze turned to Mark. “And she remembers you?”

“She will,” Mark said simply. She let out a shaky breath, looking between the two Viltrumites towering over her. “You—you can’t just keep me here—”

Nolan huffed a quiet laugh. “She’s feisty.” Mark smirked. “She was always like that.”

Nolan clapped a hand on his son’s shoulder. “She’ll learn. Just like the rest.” Mark nodded. He already knew that. She would understand. In time, she’d accept her place. She had to.

She shivered under his touch. Mark’s hands lingered, tracing the curves of her waist as he helped her adjust the fabric of the Viltrumite clothing. The white and gray fit her perfectly, the gold accents catching the dim light of the room. It was a queen’s attire—his queen. He slid his palms over her arms, up to her shoulders, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss against the curve of her neck.

“I missed you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her skin.

She tensed but didn’t pull away. He took that as progress. His fingers interlaced with hers, his grip firm yet careful. “Come,” he said, leading her toward the door. “It’s time you met your son.” She halted mid-step.

Mark turned, watching the shock ripple across her face. Her son. A sharp breath left her lips. “You’re lying.” Mark’s expression softened—just slightly. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

She stared at him, searching for deception, for some cruel trick. But there was none. Slowly, cautiously, she allowed him to lead her forward.

As they walked through the towering halls of the palace, her hand still in his, she realized there was no escaping this. No waking up from whatever nightmare she had been pulled into. Because this wasn’t a nightmare to him. To Mark—this was a dream fulfilled.

Her breath caught in her throat.

The nursery was warm, quiet, bathed in soft golden light. And there—nestled in the crib—was him. Her baby boy.

She froze in the doorway, unable to move, unable to breathe. He was so small, so perfect. He had her nose, her eyes, tiny fingers curling in excitement as he saw her. Then—he babbled, reaching out. Her legs felt weak.

“He recognizes you,” Mark murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. His hand found her waist, warm and possessive, gently pushing her forward. “His mother.” Tears welled in her eyes.

She wanted to run to him, to scoop him up, to hold him close and never let go. But fear held her in place. This wasn’t her world. Wasn’t her baby. And yet—when he let out a tiny whimper, his arms still reaching—her body moved before her mind could stop it.

She stepped forward, hesitantly, and carefully lifted him into her arms. He cooed, tiny hands grabbing at her clothes, his warmth pressing against her chest.

A sob threatened to escape her lips. Mark’s arms wrapped around her from behind, his chin resting on her shoulder as he watched the scene unfold. “See?” he whispered, his breath warm against her ear. “This is where you belong.”

Days passed in a blur. She barely spoke. Barely slept.

Her son—Mark’s son—never left her arms for long. Every time she tried to distance herself, the child would fuss and cry, his tiny hands gripping onto her as if he knew, deep down, that she wasn’t supposed to leave. And Mark… Mark was always there. Watching. Guiding. Touching.

His hands were never far, resting on her back when she carried their son through the halls, brushing against her waist when he led her to meals, tilting her chin up when he demanded her attention.

He never forced her, never raised his voice. But his presence was suffocating. And yet—she couldn’t bring herself to fight him. Not when he looked at her like that. Like she was his entire world.

Not when their son—her son—clung to her, trusting, innocent, unaware of the war raging in her heart.

The palace was beautiful, grand and open, yet it felt like a cage. She could roam wherever she wanted, but there were always eyes on her. Viltrumite soldiers nodded as she passed, but there was no mistaking their purpose. They were guards. Watchers.

Mark didn’t treat her like a prisoner. But she was one. And the worst part? The longer she stayed, the more the thought of leaving terrified her.

Dinner was quiet. It always was.

Mark sat across from her at the long, polished table, their son nestled in her lap, babbling happily as he played with a small golden trinket. She barely touched her food, only picking at it while Mark ate with a steady, satisfied ease.

Then, casually—like it was the most natural thing in the world—he said it. “We should have more children.” Her hands froze. More? Her breath hitched, her chest tightening as she processed his words.

She hadn’t even had one child—not really. Not in this life. This wasn’t her son, not the way Mark believed. And yet, he spoke as if she had been his wife all along, as if nothing had changed.

Like she hadn’t changed. She swallowed hard, her fingers curling around the fabric of her dress. His wife’s dress. The realization hit her like a blow. The way he dressed her, in fine silks and intricate embroidery—his wife’s clothes. The way he touched her, lingering, reverent—as if she had always been his.

The way he guided her, suggested how she should wear her hair, what jewelry suited her best—the way his wife had worn it. He was trying to replace her. No—not replace. To bring her back. Her lips parted, her throat dry. Mark watched her expectantly, his gaze warm, unwavering.

“Y/N?” His voice was soft, affectionate, like they were having an ordinary conversation between husband and wife. “What do you think?” She forced herself to breathe.

Her son—not hers, not really—giggled in her lap, blissfully unaware of the tension thickening in the air. Her pulse pounded in her ears. What did she think? She thought she was drowning. She couldn’t answer.

Her throat tightened as she stared at him, at the quiet expectation in his eyes. He meant it. Every word. More children. A future. A life she had never lived, but one he had already decided belonged to her.

Her fingers trembled against the fabric of her dress. Mark’s hand reached across the table, covering hers, grounding, steady.

“You’re quiet,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly. “Is something wrong?” Everything. Everything was wrong. But she couldn’t say that.

Not when his grip was so gentle, yet so firm. Not when his thumb traced slow circles against her skin, comforting, possessive. Not when their—his—son looked up at her with bright, adoring eyes, completely unaware of the storm raging inside her.

She swallowed hard. “I just… wasn’t expecting that.”

Mark chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “I know it’s a lot to consider.” His gaze softened, his fingers still trailing against hers. “But we’ve lost enough time already.”

Her stomach twisted. Lost time. To him, she had always been his wife. His love. The mother of his child.

And now, he wanted more. More memories that weren’t hers. More children she had never carried. More years stolen from a life she had never lived. Her silence stretched too long. Mark’s smile faltered, just slightly. His fingers tightened, just barely.

“…Y/N?” His voice was still soft, but there was something else now. A quiet warning. She forced herself to meet his gaze. Lying to him would be dangerous. But the truth—her truth—wasn’t an option.

So she did the only thing she could. She nodded. Mark exhaled, his smile returning in full force, his grip on her hand loosening just enough to feel like reassurance.

“I knew you’d understand,” he murmured. She forced herself to smile back. And inside, she screamed.

She lay in bed, stiff as a board, her body refusing to relax even as Mark’s arms encircled her.

The weight of his presence was suffocating, his warmth pressing against her side. She kept her breathing steady, eyes fixed on the ceiling, trying to will herself into some form of calm.

But Mark noticed. Of course, he did.

He shifted, rolling on top of her in one fluid motion. The air in her lungs stilled.

His bare chest pressed against her, his warmth inescapable. He was only wearing his pants, his body solid and strong, caging her in beneath him.

His fingers traced the line of her jaw, his touch feather-light, almost tender.

“I was broken without you,” he murmured.

She sucked in a breath as his lips brushed against her neck, slow and lingering, his hot breath fanning over her skin.

“I’m so glad to have you back.” His voice was full of raw emotion, of something aching.She squeezed her eyes shut. This wasn’t right.

She wasn’t who he thought she was. But he believed it. With every touch, every kiss, every word, he believed it. And if she told him the truth— Would he even listen?

She shouldn’t feel this way. Her body shouldn’t be trembling beneath his touch, her breath shouldn’t be coming out in soft, uneven gasps. She shouldn’t want this.

Mark’s hands roamed her skin with slow, deliberate purpose, his lips dragging over her neck, her collarbone, lower. Every touch was practiced, familiar, like he had done this a thousand times before. Because he had. Just—not with her. Not really. But her body didn’t know the difference. Her body responded to him as if it did.

His fingers found the sensitive spots she didn’t even realize she had, his touch coaxing heat from her skin, his mouth whispering promises against her throat—mine, always mine, never leaving me again.

She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, trying to hold back the traitorous sounds building in her chest. She hated him. She hated him.

He was a monster. He stole her from her life, tore her from her world, forced her into a role that was never meant to be hers. He was selfish, obsessive, violent.

But his hands were gentle. His voice was soft. His lips worshiped her as if she was something precious, something irreplaceable. And the worst part? Some part of her liked it.

Guilt twisted in her stomach, hot and suffocating, but it wasn’t enough to stop the shudder that racked her body as his fingers slid lower, as his voice murmured praises against her skin, as he played her like he had done this a thousand times before. Like he knew her.

Like she had always belonged to him. Her mind screamed at her to fight, to push him away, to remind herself who he really was. But her body betrayed her. And Mark knew it.

“Please” she begged, her hands shaking as she holds onto his shoulders. He kissed her mouth silencing her weak protests, she couldn’t even fight back. He pulled up her nightgown pulling down her panties. He tossed them aside, pulling her night gown over her head, he kisses down her chest, to her stomach, and finally to rest in between her legs. He moves her legs on his shoulders as he licks up her slit, using her fingers to open her folds, inserting two and thrusting. She quickly grew wet at his actions, her body acting on instinct, as he sucked on her clit, circling around the sensitive bud. Her legs clenched on his head but he paid no mind.

Continuing to eat her out like a starving man. She threw her head back, moaning helplessly. She wasn’t a virgin, nor was inexperienced in oral sex in any means— yet all her past relationships never made her feel this good.

Her breath hitched as his fingers worked her apart, his touch agonizingly slow, purposeful. Every stroke, every brush of his lips against her skin, was meant to unravel her. And it was. Her body responded before her mind could fight it, hips shifting, breath catching, a soft, humiliating whimper slipping past her lips.

Her nails dug into the sheets, and she pulled his face closer to her warmth, she felt him smile against her. She squirmed and panted, “wait— I’m gonna” she cut herself off with a moan, and he added another finger, her walls stretched around him. She whimpered, feeling herself get close. He didn’t stop, if anything he worked harder. And soon she came, he licked her up, slupping up her juices. As he pulled away from her pussy, thin strings of cum connected his face. He just wiped it with his hand.

Mark chuckled against her throat, low and pleased. “See?” he murmured, dragging his tongue along her pulse. “Your body remembers me.” She clenched her fists, shame burning through her even as heat pooled in her core. No. No, it doesn’t. This wasn’t hers to remember.

But the way he touched her—like he knew her inside and out—made her question everything. This was how he touched her. His wife. The woman he had lost. The woman she wasn’t. Her mind screamed at her to shove him away, to fight, to remind him—remind herself—that this wasn’t real.

But her body betrayed her. Mark lifted his head, watching her with heavy-lidded eyes, drinking in her trembling form. His fingers teased, coaxing more from her, more reactions she didn’t want to give, more proof that he had already won.

She felt her resolve slipping, her body giving in, her mind clouded by pleasure and something far, far worse—acceptance. He leaned in, capturing her lips in a deep, claiming kiss. “You were made for me,” he whispered against her mouth. And God help her—some part of her believed it.

Mark held her close, his arms wrapped around her as if he were afraid she might vanish if he let go. His grip was firm but not suffocating, his warmth engulfing her, steady and unyielding.

Her breath was slow, steady against his chest, her body slack in sleep. He brushed a hand over her hair, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her head. Good. She was adjusting.

It had been difficult at first. She had been quiet, withdrawn, hesitant—but now? Now she was soft in his arms, pliant beneath his touch. She was his again. Mark closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, satisfaction settling in his chest. Things were finally falling into place. She had fought it—he had expected her to—but she was coming back to him.

She was coming back to herself. He just had to be patient. She loved him once. She would love him again. He would make sure of it.

What he didn’t know—what he couldn’t see—was the war raging beneath the surface. Because she wasn’t asleep. Not really. She lay still, eyes shut, body curled against his, pretending, forcing herself to stay limp in his hold.

Because if she moved, she would break. She hated him. She had hated him from the moment he took her, from the moment he looked at her with that kind of love, from the moment he touched her and convinced her body to betray her.

But now—now she didn’t just hate him. She hated herself. For letting this happen. For not fighting harder.

For letting herself feel anything other than disgust when he kissed her, when he touched her, when he made her his. For that one, fleeting moment where she almost—almost—wanted it. Tears burned behind her eyelids, but she refused to let them fall.

Not here. Not where he could feel them, where he could comfort her, where he could twist her pain into something else. So she lay still. Silent. Hating him. Hating herself. And worst of all—hating the part of her that was terrified of the day she stopped hating it.

jason headbutts you- not aggressively, but like a cat who’s requesting affection. youll just be laying in bed with him and he just bumps his head against yours.

“yeah, baby?” you hum, smiling at your dork of a boyfriend. “don’t make me say it.” he mutters against your cheek. “c’mon big guy, use your words.” jason rolls his eyes and pulls you close to him, kissing your nose. “can you play with my hair, please?” you tap your chin in mock thought, and he pokes your side. of course you give in, look at him. his eyes flutter shut when your hands finally comb through his hair, head resting against your chest. “can y’just read my mind next time?”

who did it?

warnings: short drabble, are u guys surprised these are coming out of my brain, hehe, fluff

“Who did it?” Yaga asks, sat before you on his chair as the 4 of you sat on your legs kneeled before him on the ground, both arms raised in the air in punishment.

Silence.

Shoko is avoiding eye contact, choosing to stay out of trouble, eyes pinned to the floor as she throws accusatory glances to the boys next to her.

Satoru is pouting, sunglasses tilted downwards as he sits in the direct middle along with Suguru. Shameless, looking in all directions excluding his teacher’s gaze.

He’s not gonna admit it.

Suguru is as void of shame as his counterpart, blowing his strand of hair out of the way as he listens to Yaga-sensei’s tapping.

He’s not gonna admit it either.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. The insistent knocks of the rolled of sheets of paper hit against the homeroom teacher’s palm. Patient. Waiting.

“Who blew the hole in the gym wall?”

Silence still.

Yaga persists.

“Admit it now and the consequences will be less dire.”

You sit there, legs feeling dead from the position. The soreness of having to spar one on one with Geto the previous day starting to kick in, your arms trembling as you try desperately to hold them up. You don’t think you can.

Suguru notices first, subtly shifting closer to you and positioning his elbow out enough to help support one of your trembling arms, taking tension off of it as he holds your sore arm up with his own.

Yaga doesn’t notice even when you flash your slightly teary gaze of gratitude towards Suguru, smiling lightly.

You speak up.

“Y-yaga-sensei, I-“

“No, (last name). It’s not you.”

You gulp nervously, keeping your mouth shut.

Yaga decides on an ultimatum.

“You all have 3 seconds to confess.”

“Three.” Suguru’s still keeping your arm up.

“Two.” Satoru wants this to be over sooner.

“On-“

“Sensei~” Shoko drawls out. “Suguru and Satoru had a fight.”

“Traitor!”

“Shoko…!”

“Gojo and Geto stay back. (last name) and Ieiri. You are dismissed.”

As the door is shut behind you, you can’t help but worriedly grasp onto Shoko’s arm.

“Well, not our problem anymore.” She pauses, thinking for a second.

“Shall we go to the vending machine together?”

masterlist

Notes:

You ended up drinking chocolate milk together with Shoko by the vending machines.

Satoru and Suguru came out soon after with large, swollen lumps atop their heads.

Shoko had her stationary disappear and reappear out of midair for a day straight.

A day, because you kept offering to share with her and giving her reason to push her desk closer to yours. Sharing textbooks, pencils, erasers… Oh, you’re blushing at how scandalous it is.

The perpetrators did not like that.

random messages w bf!yuta

pairing: yuta okkotsu x fem!reader

warnings: crack, fluff, mentions of sewerslide, suggestive (not really), and etc!

authors notes: hay yawl i just missed making smau’s lol, feel free to recommend anything, my asks are always open! (as long as it follows my rules, check my pinned post to find them). but enjoy ml’s, ily all please take care of yourselves <3

©rissouu 2024 (the frank ocean line yum yum yum)

WHEN YOU KNOW, YOU KNOW — Toji Fushiguro

dad!toji x mom!reader

summary : celebrating baby megumi's first birthday as toji remembers the day he fell in love with you.

content warning: fluff, fluff, fluff! toji being a big softy for reader, megumi being a cute baby, mentions of foster care, reader knowing her worth.

word count: 2.3k

notes: I saw this video of a mom celebrating her daughter's first birthday like this and it made my heart absolutely melt. also, my obsession with toji is growing, especially soft dad toji like UGH GIVE HIM TO ME. i also think about the fact that he did change and the reason being a woman who showed what life could be like. my true roman empire fr. but to add a little more to the context of this fic, i chose the title because firstly the song, 'margaret' by lana del rey is about finding your person and the feeling of finding them. so i sggest listening to the sone while reading! anyways, enjoy!!!

It was currently 6 a.m. and both your husband and baby were fast asleep still. You on the other hand were wide awake putting together a special surprise for your baby, Megumi, who was turning one.

You felt yourself get emotional as you get flashbacks of when he was just a tiny little thing. He still is your tiny little baby but he’s growing so fast it makes you wanna cry.

As you’re tying the ballon’s up to his crib, you hear him stir in his sleep. Your heart jumps for a second but then see his little eyes flutter open. Your gaze softens even more and a smile spreads across your face, “Good morning, baby,” You coo at him sweetly, and he smiles immediately recognizing his momma. His hands reach up wanting you to hold him and of course you could not say no to him.

You lift him up in your arms and hold him close to your chest. You press a kiss against his cheek, closing your eyes and swaying back and forth with him in your arms.

Toji groans as he feels himself wake up from his deep slumber. He rolls around in bed and reaches for something that isn’t there. His eyes quickly shoot open and he sees that you’re not in bed. *Did the baby start crying?* No because he would’ve heard it.

He then gets up leaving his room and making his way towards the babies room. He noticed the door is already open and when he peaks inside he sees you holding your baby swaying back and forth with him in your arms. His eyes then scan the room and notices the balloons above the crib along with the birthday decorations.

It was Megumi’s first birthday, of course. His eyes go back to you and Megumi and his heart accelerates. The sight was beautiful, he wanted to cherish it and keep it locked up in his head forever. God, you were so beautiful and you absolutely glowed with Megumi in your arms. He never knew how love could feel so amazing and how easily it stared him in the face when it came to you.

It was never easy for Toji to love especially since he’d never felt real true love for anyone. Not his mom and certainly not his dad, he was alone for as long as he could remember.

Of course he didn’t care, he could have any woman he wanted in a matter of seconds. No women could change him and he was fully convinced of that.

But boy was he wrong when he met you, everything changed. When you met you didn’t immediately flirt with him. You just saw him as a regular guy walking into your diner because that’s what he was. You treated him normally, not throwing yourself on him like other women. It was refreshing to say the least.

But he knew why, he could tell by the way you carried yourself that you knew you deserved something special. So when he first asked you out, you immediately turned him down without explanation. At first he was a bit offended but he brushed it off telling himself he liked a challenge.

He continued to ask you out after and still was met with the same answer. He did this for 4 months until he finally sat down at the diner and asked you, “Why won’t you go out with me?” You stare at him wide-eyed as you place a cup of coffee in front of him, “Well, you’ve never actually tried having a conversation with me, nor have you tried getting to know me, you like me because I’m pretty not for who I am,” She says cleaning up the area around him then leaving him there to think about what she said.

As she comes around to serve some costumer their food he stops her, “But I want to get to know you, that’s all I’ve been wanting these past couple of months,” Your face is blank, a bit irritated that he’d step in front of you like that, “Then prove it, actions speak louder than words,” You step around him continuing to do your job.

He let your words marinate for a second before he paid for his coffee and left.

It was now the end of your shift and all you wanted to do was go to bed. You sigh as you open the back door to leave, “Hey,” You jump at the sudden noise, feeling your soul leave your body. You look over at the noise, feeling a wave of relief that it wasn’t some freak, “Toji, you scared me!”

He was leaned up against the diner’s wall. He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, “My bad,” You shake your head before taking a deep breath, “What are you doing here anyway? The diners closed,” He shrugged leaving the wall and beginning to walk over to you, “I wanted to talk,” You raise your eyebrow in confusion, “To who?”

“To you,” He has a light smile on his face which causes you to smile, “About?” He laughs as he puts his hands in the pockets on his jeans, “I want to get to know you,” You narrowed your eyes at him, “How long have you been waiting out here for me?” Your question makes him tongue tied and red with embarrassment, “I-…since I left the diner,” He mumbles, but you heard it clear.

“That was 6 hours ago…you’ve been waiting here this whole time?” He nods looking away from you, already feeling so much embarrassment, “I didn’t know when you got off, so…I waited,” You didn’t understand why but you felt your heart flutter a bit, but you quickly shook it off. He noticed you think for a bit but quickly spoke up again, “Can I walk you home?”

Your snapped out of you thought, staring up at him blankly, “Sure, why not,” you didn’t feel threatened by him at all, you felt more safe around him then anything. One thing about Toji is that the many times he’s asked you out he’s never made you uncomfortable. He’s never made weird comments about you, he was cocky when you first met him which was off putting.

But after you shot him down the way you did he wasn’t so cocky after, “Would you like me to carry your bag?” He asks, noticing how tired you look, wanting to lift a weight of your shoulder, literally, “Oh, sure,” You handed him your bag then stretched your arms over your head and yawned, “I’m tired,” You say as you begin to walk, Toji hums before he asks, “How long have you been working there?”

“Mmm since I graduated high school,” Toji’s eyes widen a bit, you’d been working there for years and he’d never seen you, “Seriously? How come I only met you 4 months ago?” Toji had been going to that diner for a while now, ever since he graduated high school, “Well I recently graduated university, like 6 months ago but it’s been hard to look for a job so I asked to start working full time.”

Toji did take you for an educated woman, as whenever you were disrespected at the diner you never took it, always standing up for yourself, “Wow, what did you study in university?”

“Social work, I want to be a social worker for foster kids,” Toji felt his heart jump out of his chest, Toji was a foster kid. After he’d left the Zenin clan, he got into trouble shop lifting which let him to get put into the system. Which he was salty and angry about at first, it was as if he was just going back to where he was in the first place.

But to his surprise he was assigned a nice family and a great social worker who looked out for him, “Really? You know I was a foster kid,” his words make your ears quirk up turning your head towards him, “seriously? Was the system good to you?” The hope in your eyes is telling, he could see that you wanted to change things that went on it the system that were awful, “Fortunately yes, it was,” I smile spread across your face that made him melt instantly, “That’s great, I’m glad.”

The rest of the walk he learned more things about you, your favorite things, what you enjoyed doing on your free time, everything he could. You were right, getting to know somebody is so much more important than whatever they’d look like. Of course you were beautiful, no doubt about it but it was just a bonus to the beautiful personality you carried within you.

You soon arrived to your apartment complex. Toji scanned the area, it wasn’t the safest part of town but he knew it was affordable, so he couldn’t judge. “So, where do you see yourself in the future? You said you’re 22 right?” You nod as you both stop in front of the complex and sit on a nearby bench, “Well, I’ve always wanted a family, small or big. An amazing husband with a baby in a small house in the suburbs or by the beach, just living happily and peacefully.”

He noticed the way your eyes sparkled when you spoke. When you continued to describe what you wanted he couldn’t help but picture it. You, him, and a baby. His heart pounded in his chest at the image, when you stopped talking you looked into his eyes as he did you. That’s when he knew, he wanted to be everything you needed. He wanted to be the man for you.

So watching the sight of you and Megumi swaying back and forth, happily as ever is a sight for sore eyes. He felt emotional, never thinking he’d get to this point in life, this happy. Even though he was partially raised well he still had his flaws but you saw those flaws and mere things willing to stay and work on them with him.

You were his angel, his peace, and his everything. He finally decided to fully enter the room, placing a hand on the small of your back making you jump slightly, “Oh my gosh, Toji! You scared me!” He lightly chuckled before placing a kiss on your lips, “You weren’t in bed so I came up to see what was up,” You hum rubbing circles on Megumi’s back.

“I was going to wake you but you seemed exhausted last night,” He looks at Megumi, placing a hand on his head and giving him a kiss on his forehead, “Thank you, honey but I’m okay. Besides, it’s our little guys birthday, I could never miss that,” boy did this man have you wrapped around his finger, you fell in love with him over and over again every single day.

“Well since you’re here, can you grab the cake and candles that are in the kitchen so we can sing him happy birthday,” He nods giving you another kiss, “Anything for you,” You giggle as you watch him walk out of the room, you look at Megumi staring up at you, “happy birthday, my sweet boy,” you bring him up pressing your cheek against his.

Toji comes back with a cake and a single candle in his hand. Little Megumi coos at his dad causing Toji to laugh, “patience little guy,” he sits down placing the cake down as well, you follow first placing Megumi down then sitting yourself next to Toji.

Toji places the candle on the cake then lights it. Little Megumi’s eyes widen as he sees the small flame but then giggles and claps. You lay your head on Toji’s shoulder watching the sight that made your heart melt.

You began to sing happy birthday to him and he’d never smiled more, swaying back and forth to the sound of his parents voice. Megumi’s was only one but he felt the love that radiated off of his parents and how much they loved him, “Happy birthday to you, okay baby, now blow out your candles.”

Megumi’s face tilted in confusion, causing you and Toji to chuckle, “Like this,” you said as you blew softly, he copied your movement but no air came out of his lips. Toji laughed, “Okay try again,” he whispered but instead this time Toji blew slightly causing the candle to go out, little Megumi clapped thinking he had done it. You smiled at your happy baby, then at your husband, you lifted your head off of his shoulder giving him a kiss.

“Thank you,” You whispered lovingly, “For what?” He asked confused, “For this, for it all, for giving me the life I’d always dreamed of,” His heart swells at your words causing him to shake his head, “No, thank you, you accepted me knowing I had so many flaws…and you changed me…you’re the reason I am this way. You are my reason, Y/n.”

You look over at Megumi for a second, who moved himself to crawl, “Oh Toji,” You coo, cupping his face and giving him a passionate kiss, “I love you, I love you so much,” He whispered wrapping his arms around your waist and bringing you closer, “I love you, Toji,” You nuzzle your face into his chest holding him close, but in the corner of your eye you see something.

“Toji, look,” you tap his chest and point over to Megumi, who stood up. He always did that but what you didn’t expect was for him to take a couple steps forward. You both gasped, quickly sitting up as you watch your baby make his way to you. You feel your eyes well up with tears and you begin to clap excitedly, “he’s walking!” you cheer excitedly. Little Megumi makes it all the way to his parents. Toji is quickly to scoop him up and kiss him excitedly.

You both celebrate your babies big step in growing up. Which makes you so proud but so emotional, Toji is quick to wipe your tears. He kisses you once more and smiles, down at you then at his son, “My blessings,” He whispers.

h1ghoffu - i do not allow my work to be reposted. please do not plagiarize my work or theme. reblogging and comments are welcome! much love! thank you for reading!

REMORSE

SUMMARY: He doesn't realize how valuable you are until he loses you.

Things could have been different. If he had stayed home, you would still be alive. You would still be alive…

''My love… p-please don’t go''

Gojo froze in his tracks, feeling your delicate arms wrap around his waist from behind. Despite himself, a small flicker of surprise coursed through him, momentarily halting his steps towards the door. Your trembling voice reached his ears, filled with desperation and a plea for him to stay.

"I-I will prepare a dinner for you, my love… p-please don’t go,” you whispered, your lips pressing softly against his back in a tender kiss.

For a brief moment, the gentle touch and your plea tugged at a minuscule fragment of buried empathy within him. However, he quickly squashed that flicker of compassion.

He twisted his body to face you, his expression turning cold and unyielding once again under his blindfold. He roughly pushed your arms away from his waist, forcing you to release her grip on him. The action was swift and unforgiving.

“Your feeble attempts to keep me won’t work, y/n.” he spat, his voice laced with cruel indifference. “I have no use for your pitiful displays of affection. I am leaving.”

He turned away from you, resolute in his decision. He regretted his words at the moment he saw the pain and sadness in your eyes. But he couldn’t show it, he couldn’t show any sign of weakness.

After all, he was the strongest

With a last glance, he walked towards the door and left you. As he crossed the threshold, his heart remained hardened, untouched by the anguish he left behind. 

...

He was a terrible husband. He didn’t pay any attention to you. But he wanted to change that, so he bought you a bouquet to make it up to you, and today he was going to take you out to dinner. He was going to fix everything, you were going to be happy together.

“My sweet wifey~, I thought we could have dinner today, husband and wife–”

Upon entering the house, Gojo was met with an eerie silence that sent a chill down his spine. The door wide open, the lights on – everything seemed off. As he stepped further inside, his heart raced, confusion clouding his thoughts. The scent of carnage enveloped him, the heavy air thick with tension.

Then he found you.

Lying lifeless on the floor, your limbs twitching slightly as the waning moments of your life escaped from you. Blood pooled beneath you, the crimson liquid staining the once pristine floors with its haunting presence. A profound sorrow washed over him, accompanied by a wave of guilt – a bitter taste in his mouth.

The flowers he had intended to apologize with dropped from his grasp, the vibrant colors now tainted by the horrifying scene unfolding before his eyes. He watched in horror as you struggled for your last breaths, your fragile body betrayed by the curse that sought to end her life.

The irreversibility of the situation dawned on him at that moment - her fate was already sealed, your time running thin. Tears welled up in his eyes as realizations flooded his mind; regrets of his callous behavior, anger, and neglect came racing back and consumed his conscience.

If only he had stayed... if only he had paid attention.

Gojo fell to his knees beside you, reaching out tentatively to steady her limp form. “Y/N. Stay with me,” he pleaded, a foreign word in his vocabulary. “Please, don’t go.” His tears fell in torrents, landing beside hers on the muddied ground.

“Who. Who did this to you-”

His hands shook as he cradled you close, your warm breath steadily fading in his embrace. The pain of losing you was like a dagger piercing his heart, a relentless torture he could never escape.

What was the point? What was the point of being the strongest if he couldn’t even protect his wife?

At present

Gojo stands before your grave, a solemn figure with his head bowed low. The air holds a heavy silence, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves as a gentle breeze caresses the surrounding trees. The weight of his loss rests heavily upon his shoulders, his heart burdened with a mix of grief and regret.

“Hey, it’s me again,” he murmurs, his voice choked with emotion as he addresses the earth beneath him. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but I wanted to let you know… I’m doing my best, even though it feels impossible without you here.”

His fingers trace the engraved letters of your name on the tombstone, his touch both reverent and pained. Memories of your time together flood his mind, each a bittersweet reminder of what he had lost. The weight of his remorse for not cherishing those moments to their fullest becomes evident in how his shoulders slump and his breath hitches.

“I miss you, more than words can express,” he admits, his voice breaking with raw vulnerability. “I wish I had realized sooner what you truly meant to me. I wish I had been a better husband and person for you… worthy of the love you had for me.”

His grip tightens on the flowers he brought, his knuckles turning white. He places them gently upon your grave, his gaze lingering upon the fading petals.

Tears glisten in his mismatched eyes, his voice barely more than a whisper now. “I love you, and I always will. I’m sorry I realized this so late. Wherever you are, I hope you’ve found peace. And just know… you’ll forever have a place in my heart.”

With a final, lingering look at your tombstone, he puts the bouquet on your tombstone and turns away.

He will live a lifetime with the pain of ruining the perfect future he could have had with you.

𐙚 ⋮ Aphrodites gamble sequel ꒱ ‧₊˚

୨୧┇ the amount of trigger warnings the sequel will have is too much to put on here, I’ll do it later. BUT basically, this sequel is basically the plot of the Trojan war but instead of mene and Helen, it’s Tele and pandora/y/n. This sequel doesn’t “need” to be read, so remember you can always click off if you feel uncomfortable.

୨୧┇TW: implied sa, physical abuse, violent language, suggestive jokes, sexual threats, physical threats, description of gore and dead bodies, Raphael is a warning.

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╰─ ♡ Main series:

୨୧┇Chapter one