We Need That Draft. Feed Us Mother.
We need that draft. Feed us mother.
Adonis was barely a few months old, yet he was already proving to be an expert at causing chaos. No matter how closely y/n or Telemachus watched him, the moment their attention slipped, the baby would somehow vanish from where he was placed, crawling off to explore the vast palace with an alarming speed and determination.“Where’s Adonis?” She asked, her voice laced with panic as she spun around the room. The play mat they had placed him on was empty, the soft rattle he had been holding abandoned like a forgotten relic.
Telemachus sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “This kid’s going to be the death of me,” he muttered, scanning the floor for any sign of their rogue son.
“Adonis!” She called, crouching to peek under a table. “How does he keep doing this? He’s a baby! He shouldn’t be this fast!”
Telemachus crossed his arms and frowned. “You say that, but you carried him for nine months. Speed clearly runs in your side of the family.”
“Excuse me?” She shot him a look before continuing her frantic search.
A muffled giggle caught their attention. Telemachus froze and cocked his head toward the sound. “There,” he said, pointing toward the curtains billowing near the open window.
She gasped. “If he’s near that window—”
Before she could finish her sentence, Telemachus was already striding over. He yanked the curtain aside to find Adonis sitting there happily, gnawing on the edge of the fabric. “Gotcha!” Telemachus exclaimed, scooping the baby up. Adonis squealed with delight, clearly thrilled with himself for being found.
“You little troublemaker!” She said, placing her hands on her hips as she marched over. “Do you know how much you scare us when you do this?”Adonis responded by reaching up and grabbing a handful of Telemachus’s hair, yanking hard.
“By the gods, he’s strong for his size,” Telemachus grumbled, wincing as she tried to pry Adonis’s tiny fingers loose. But before they could even breathe a sigh of relief, Adonis wriggled like a slippery fish in Telemachus’s grip.
“Oh no, you’re not going anywhere,” Telemachus said, tightening his hold. But Adonis started fussing, flailing his chubby arms and legs.
“He’s going to keep doing this,” she said with a resigned sigh. “I swear, he’s going to find a way to crawl out of the palace entirely one day.”
“And then he’ll probably start a war by accidentally insulting some visiting diplomat,” Telemachus added, half joking but mostly serious. They tried to settle Adonis back onto his mat, surrounding him with toys and cushions to create a barrier. But as soon as they turned their backs for a second, they heard the telltale rustle of movement.
She groaned, spinning around to see Adonis once again halfway across the room, heading straight for an overturned vase that had yet to be cleaned up. “How does he do this?!” Telemachus exclaimed, throwing his hands up.
She dashed after Adonis and scooped him up just as he reached the vase. “You’re relentless, aren’t you?” she said, laughing despite her exasperation. Adonis looked up at her with wide, innocent eyes.
Telemachus walked over, shaking his head but smiling. “He’s got your stubbornness, that’s for sure.”
“And your talent for getting into trouble,” she shot back, adjusting Adonis on her hip. The baby, apparently satisfied with his latest adventure, yawned and rested his head on her shoulder.
“For now, he rests,” Telemachus said dramatically, “but tomorrow, the chaos resumes.”
“Tomorrow?” She raised an eyebrow. “Try five minutes.” They both laughed as they carried their little mischief maker out of the room, knowing full well this was only the beginning of Adonis’s knack for trouble.
——
The next day, Adonis was at it again, proving once more that no barrier, no distraction, and no watchful eye could stop him. Y/n had only turned away for a moment to grab a fresh tunic for him, and in that short span of time, Adonis had vanished. “Telemachus!” She called out, frantic.
Telemachus appeared in the doorway, chewing on an apple. “What now?” he asked, though he already knew.
“Adonis is gone again!” she said, her voice trembling as she paced around the room.
Telemachus groaned, tossing the apple aside. “Where could he possibly have gone this time? We’ve blocked off the stairs, locked the storage rooms, and put cushions everywhere to trap him!” As if on cue, a palace guard peeked his head through the open door, looking sheepish. “Uh… my queen, your son was spotted heading toward the dungeon.”
Both parents froze.
“The dungeon?” She repeated, horrified.
Telemachus’s face darkened. “You mean he’s down there with Antinous?”
Before the guard could stammer out a response, she was already running, her heart pounding as she raced toward the dark, cold hallways beneath the palace. Telemachus followed close behind, muttering curses under his breath. Sure enough, when they reached the dungeon, they were greeted by an unexpected sight: Adonis sitting on the filthy ground, giggling and babbling nonsensically as Antinous sat cross legged in front of him, the bars dividing them.
“What the—” Telemachus started, but she held up a hand to stop him. Antinous looked up, his usual scowl replaced by a strange mix of confusion and irritation. “Your kid,” he said flatly, nodding toward Adonis, “just crawled in here and started treating me like some kind of playmate.”
She ran forward, scooping up Adonis into her arms. “Oh, Adonis, you can’t be down here!” she scolded gently, though she was visibly relieved to find him safe.
Antinous raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the wall. “You should keep a closer eye on him, sister. He could’ve gotten himself hurt.”
Telemachus crossed his arms, glaring at Antinous. “You’re one to talk about safety. You’re the one chained in a dungeon for plotting murder.”
Antinous’s lip curled into a smirk. “And yet, somehow, I’m still more capable of watching your child than you are.”
“Don’t push me,” Telemachus growled, stepping closer.
“Telemachus, not now!” She said sharply, shifting Adonis in her arms. Adonis, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the room, reached out toward Antinous and babbled something unintelligible.
Antinous raised his eyebrows and let out a small, humorless laugh. “He’s bold, I’ll give him that. Takes after me, I suppose.”
Telemachus scoffed. “If he takes after you, I’m throwing him off a wall.”
She shot him a glare. “Telemachus!?”
“What? He shouldn’t be down here, and he definitely shouldn’t be fraternizing with the prisoner,” Telemachus shot back, gesturing toward Antinous.
Antinous rolled his eyes. “Relax, prince. It’s not like I’m going to corrupt the kid with my evil ways. He’s already crawling into trouble all on his own.”
She sighed, adjusting Adonis on her hip. “This isn’t a joke, Antinous. He’s just a baby.”
“He’s your baby,” Antinous corrected, his tone softening slightly as he looked at his nephew. “And despite who his father is, I suppose he’s… tolerable.” Telemachus bristled but said nothing, though his clenched fists spoke volumes.
, ignoring the tension, she smiled faintly at her brother. “Thank you for not… you know, yelling at him or scaring him.”
Antinous shrugged, leaning back against the wall. “He’s family, isn’t he? As much as I hate to admit it.”
Adonis reached out again, his tiny fingers grabbing hold of Antinous’s tunic. For a moment, Antinous didn’t move, simply staring down at the baby. Then, with a resigned sigh, he let Adonis pull at the fabric. “Take him back upstairs before he decides the dungeon is his new favorite playground,” Antinous muttered.
She nodded and kissed Adonis’s head. “Say goodbye to your uncle,” she said softly. Adonis responded with a loud squeal, clearly delighted with his adventure.
As they turned to leave, Telemachus lagged behind for a moment, fixing Antinous with a sharp glare. “You’re lucky he’s here, or I’d be reminding you exactly why you’re chained to that wall.” Antinous smirked, tilting his head. “And you’re lucky you’re married to my sister, or I’d have gutted you long before now.”
“Charming,” Telemachus said dryly before following her up the stairs, muttering under his breath about locking every door in the palace. Adonis, meanwhile, babbled happily in her arms, blissfully unaware of the chaos he’d left in his wake.
——
Late at night, when the palace was quiet and y/n and Telemachus were sound asleep, little Adonis was wide awake. The curious toddler had managed to wriggle out of his crib, determined to explore his favorite place—the dungeon. Somehow, his tiny legs managed to navigate the dark halls without stumbling, and before long, he found himself at the barred doorway of Antinous’s cell.
Antinous, sitting in his usual chained position against the wall, heard the soft pitter-patter of tiny feet. He raised his head, narrowing his eyes at the small figure in the faint torchlight. “Well, well. Look who’s back,” he muttered. “The little prince of trouble.” Adonis, giggling, crawled through the narrow gap in the bars and toddled over to Antinous, his chubby hands reaching for his uncle.
Antinous sighed but couldn’t suppress a faint smirk. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that. Alright, kid. You want to learn something useful?” He leaned in conspiratorially, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Repeat after me: Te-le-ma-chus is a whore.”
Adonis blinked at him, tilting his head. “Whoo-ah?” he echoed, his voice high-pitched and uncertain.
Antinous chuckled, his smirk growing. “Close enough. Let’s try again. Whore. Say it.”
“Whooo-ah!” Adonis squealed, clapping his hands.
Antinous grinned wickedly. “Good. Now, put it all together: Telemachus is a whore.”
“Te-le… ma… kooos… whoo-ah!” Adonis babbled triumphantly.
“Perfect!” Antinous said, his tone mockingly cheerful. “You’re a natural, kid. Keep it up, and you’ll be my favorite nephew for sure.”
Unbeknownst to them, y/n and Telemachus were already awake, frantically searching the palace for their runaway son. When they finally realized where he’d gone, she nearly fainted from exasperation, and Telemachus turned a dangerous shade of red. They stormed down to the dungeon together, their footsteps echoing ominously through the stone corridors. When they reached the cell, she gasped, spotting Adonis happily babbling at Antinous, who looked far too smug for someone in chains.
“Adonis!” She cried, rushing to scoop him up. “What are you doing down here?”
Antinous shrugged nonchalantly. “Having a little uncle-nephew bonding time. Nothing to worry about.”
Telemachus glared daggers at him. “What did you teach him, Antinous?”
Before Antinous could respond, Adonis clapped his tiny hands and proudly declared, “Te-le-ma-kooos whoo-ah!”
The room fell into stunned silence. Her eyes widened in horror, while Telemachus’s jaw dropped. “What… did he just say?” Telemachus asked, his voice low and dangerous.
“Te-le-ma-kooos whoo-ah!” Adonis repeated cheerfully, pointing at his father with a giggle.
Antinous burst out laughing, his head falling back against the wall as he howled with amusement. “Oh, that’s priceless! Absolutely priceless!”
She turned to Antinous, furious. “You taught my son to call his father a whore?!”
Antinous raised his shackled hands in mock innocence. “Hey, I’m just expanding his vocabulary. You should be thanking me.”
Telemachus was fuming, his face red as a ripe pomegranate. “I swear, Antinous, the moment you step out of that cell, I’m going to—”
“Whore!” Adonis interrupted, pointing at Telemachus again with a squeal of delight.
She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Adonis, no. That’s a bad word. We don’t say that.”
“Whoo-ah!” Adonis repeated stubbornly.
Telemachus glared at Antinous. “You’re lucky y/n’s here, or you’d be dead.”
Antinous smirked. “Oh, come on. He’s got your attitude, Telemachus. Be proud.”
She shook her head, holding Adonis close. “We’re leaving. Now.”
As she carried Adonis toward the stairs, Telemachus lingered for a moment, leaning into the cell bars with a deadly glare. “I hope you rot in here forever, you bastard.”
Antinous grinned lazily. “Tell your son I said ‘goodnight.’ And maybe teach him some manners next time.” Telemachus stormed after her, muttering every curse he knew under his breath. Meanwhile, Antinous leaned back against the wall, his laughter echoing through the dungeon long after they were gone.
——
As her and Telemachus made their way back up the stairs, a heavy silence hung between them. She held Adonis close, her son now blissfully unaware of the chaos he’d just caused, his tiny hands playing with the edges of her dress. Telemachus walked beside her, his steps heavy, his expression an unreadable mix of exasperation and disbelief. Finally, she broke the silence, her voice hesitant. “So… I guess we have to face it.”
“Face what?” Telemachus snapped, though he already knew the answer.
“Adonis’s first word,” she said, her voice strained with the effort to sound calm. “It was… uh… ‘whore.’”
Telemachus groaned, rubbing his temples. “Out of all the words—ALL THE WORDS—his first word had to be that! Of course, it’s that! I blame your brother.”
“You’re acting like I’m happy about it!” She shot back, her voice defensive. “I didn’t exactly want his first word to be a slur against you!”
“Well, it was,” Telemachus grumbled, crossing his arms. “And now I’m going to have to live with the fact that the first coherent thing my son ever said was an insult. Directed at me.”
She sighed, trying to balance frustration and guilt. “Maybe he won’t remember it? He’s just a baby.”
“Oh, no,” Telemachus said bitterly, throwing up his hands. “You know Antinous is going to make sure he remembers it. He’ll find a way to remind him every chance he gets. ‘Hey, Adonis, remember when you called your dad a whore?’ That’s going to be his favorite story.”
She rolled her eyes. “Look, I already told you not to let my brother get under your skin. Why are you letting him win? He’s literally in a dungeon, Telemachus.”
“That doesn’t stop him from being insufferable!” Telemachus snapped, before pausing, glancing at Adonis. The boy had been babbling nonsense under his breath, but now he was looking directly at his father, smiling brightly.
“Whoo-ah!” Adonis squealed, pointing at Telemachus with enthusiasm.
“Oh, for the love of the gods!” Telemachus groaned, throwing his head back in despair. “He’s proud of it now! He thinks it’s a game!”
She bit her lip, struggling to suppress the laugh bubbling up in her throat. “You have to admit,” she said carefully, “it’s kind of… funny?”
Telemachus glared at her. “Funny? FUNNY? Y/n, our son just insulted me with his first word. That’s not funny. That’s tragic!”
She couldn’t hold back any longer. She burst out laughing, clutching Adonis tighter to her chest. “I’m sorry, I really am,” she said between laughs. “But this is exactly the kind of thing that’s going to be hilarious years from now.”
“Years from now?!” Telemachus repeated, his voice climbing an octave. “I have to endure years of people bringing this up?! Do you realize what my father’s going to say when he finds out? Or the entire court? I’ll never live this down!”
Still giggling, she reached over to squeeze his arm. “You’re being dramatic. It’s just a word. He’s a baby, Telemachus.”
“He’s our baby,” Telemachus retorted, glowering at Adonis, who grinned innocently back at him. “And this is how he starts his life? By humiliating me?”
She leaned closer, her smile softening. “Well, at least he’s ambitious. He’s already following in your footsteps.”
Telemachus blinked, caught off guard. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She shrugged playfully. “He’s already knocking down his enemies, one word at a time. Just like you.”
For a moment, Telemachus considered that. Then, reluctantly, a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I suppose it’s better than him saying ‘Antinous.’”
“There you go,” Pandora said with a grin. “It could always be worse.” Adonis cooed again, reaching out toward his father. Telemachus hesitated, then sighed and gently took the boy into his arms. He looked down at his son’s wide, curious eyes, and despite himself, he couldn’t stay mad.
“Alright, kid,” he muttered. “But if your second word is anything else Antinous teaches you, I’m going to lock you in that crib until you’re thirty.”Adonis giggled, grabbing at Telemachus’s nose.
She wrapped an arm around Telemachus’s waist, leaning her head on his shoulder. “You’re a good dad, you know. Even if your son called you a whore.”
Telemachus snorted. “And you’re a great mom, letting him wander into a dungeon.”
She poked his side. “Hey, don’t start. It’s your fault too.” As they walked back to their chambers, Adonis babbled happily in Telemachus’s arms. Telemachus couldn’t help but glare at him one last time when the word “whore” slipped out again, but her laughter made the whole thing a little easier to bear
@simpformoonkight
More Posts from Yeli31 and Others
What Leg Is it Down .ᐟ
𝜗𝜚: satoru, suguru, nanami, choso, ino, toji,
note: asking them what leg is their dick/cock down !
warnings: cursing, sexual, kms joke in gojo’s, crack, f!reader
I BLOCK MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS
Hiii, is your Batmom stuff in order like where do I start, like I read some here and there and they're amazing so I was wondering if there's a chronological order?
Hey ! …Hum…there could be a chronological order…Ok well, I’m gonna spend my next hour giving you said order eh. On my masterlist blog, the stories are basically in the order I posted them, but I believe I can make a chronological order and a sort of timeline. Here it goes :
So there’s two kind of Batmom stories. The ones that are connected, the ones that have the same “main” Batmom, and stories unrelated with those, usually one shots. And here we go, let’s start with my “main” Batmom (also a good way to do a list of all the connected stories haha) and a somewhat chronological order :
There used to be a story where my main Batmom and Bruce met at a charity Batmom was having (she’s a writer that was starting to be famous and had a charity to give easier access to books to disadvantages population in Gotham) but hum…it got accidentally erased. I still remember the story though, so maybe one day, I’ll re-write it. Anyway. This is where it’s suppose to begin.
The first time he saw you
Making him work for it
“You’re not hard to love, Bruce”
“You made me hide under the desk” (NSFW, 18+, minors don’t interact)
“My last happy birthday was my eighth one…”
Insecurities shmunsecurities
The Break-Up part ¼
The Break-Up part 2/4
The Break-Up part 2.5/4
The Break-Up part ¾
The Break-Up part 4/4
“The art of taking care of the woman you love” (TW : periods)
Making Bruce Wayne blush
“Can the Batman get flustered ?”
Smol Dickie and Jaybird
Wedding and pop-corns
“My biggest mistake” by Jason P. Todd
The Batmom Glare
Ma Broosh !
Silly Bat’
The first time they called you mom
“You have kids ?? And…A WIFE ?”
“Hey Mrs. Wayne !”
Behind closed door (NSFW, 18+, minors don’t interact)
“Just play the damn game with me !”
Period drama with mama
Tears
“Self-care is important you IDIOT !”
Pierced
Fun Fair with the family
The Batkids watching “The Omen”
The Batkids watching “The Lion King”
How terrible it is to love something that death can touch
“Admit it, Bruce” (NSFW, 18+, minors don’t interact)
“Your wife is hot”
“Your wife is hot” part 2
“You’re…you’re Bruce’s father !”
“Mother, it’s your day”
Anonymous Hate
Never piss off a magician
“Mother has been poisoned”
Valentine’s day is a stupid holiday
Burrito Blanket Batmom
How to tame a Wayne
Wild Child
“Jigsaw is coming for me”
In which the batboys fight to know which Hogwarts’ house is the best
Oh shit, it’s father’s day !
The Last Pit (part ½)
The Last Pit (part 2/2)
My mom is better than yours
Each tattoo is a story
Short bonus convo : Bruce and Batmom gross out the Batboys
“Did this miscreant hurt you mother ?”
“Are we not gonna talk about the elephant in the room ?”
“You’re mister J’s new obsession, Sugar” (part 1/3)
“You’re mister J’s new obsession, Sugar” (part 2/3)
“You’re mister J’s new obsession, Sugar” (part 3/3)
“That’s not how you negociate !”
Death, Amnesia, and 4 coffee please
“You’re cute when you’re jealous”
“My parents are gross…ly in love"
“Where did the coffee table go ?”
“She’ll always be our mom”
“Mom, are you a drug dealer ?!”
It’s Alfred Day !
“Vacations are rare for the Waynes”
Beach Bod’
I’m not drunk, you are
The Batkids watching “The Omen”
The many times Alfred Pennyworth walked in on his master and his wife making love, and that one time his young masters wished they were blind (NSFW, 18+, minors don’t interact)
“It’s her, but it’s not her !” (part ½)
“It’s them, but it’s not them !” (part 2/2)
“Talk to my son like that again, and I will end you”
Batbrats
When you’re your husband’s biggest simp
Buttslap ?/Batslap !
Can you be friend with your husband’s ex-girlfriend ?
Early Mornings with the Bat
“Is Father…drunk ?”
A Mother’s love : Burst of Affection
Sick Day
Mama’s boys/girl
Jason Todd(ler)
Operation : retrieving the sex tape
Slice of life : cooking lessons
YOU IDIOT !
“I’m done with you, Mr. Wayne”
“I can be myself around you”
“I want a divorce !”
Alive (NSFW, 18+, minors don’t interact)
How to remove a Wayne safely
The comfort of Loving arms
#MyParentsAreLosers
“Hopefully, no one will notice” (NSFW, 18+, minors don’t interact)
“She should cut her nails” (part ½ of the League teasing the “batlovers”)
“Bruce…sucks !” (part 2/2 of the League teasing the “batlovers”).
The Talk
“BATMAN IS NEVER JEALOUS”
“You slept with Superman ?”
The List (NSFW, 18+, minors don’t interact)
The wrath of a short woman
Random convo between Batmom and Broosh
I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore… 1/3 (Marvel Crossover)
“I don’t like cats”
Odd socks
Halloween in…December ?!
I’ll always be here for you
Tickles and loss
Happy Holidays
“My last happy birthday was my eighth one…”
Short bonus convo : Batboys want a sibling
Batman doesn’t eat pie
Good Night Rituals
Baby Wayne
“I’m lost without you…”
“You’re not even my mom !”
Polichinelle
The Great Mall adventure
“Please don’t freak out, but my water just broke”
Master of Diaper
Shaky steps and bad teaching
“Go away, you’re confusing my baby”
Wild Child 2, “We want them back”
How do you make babies ?
The day he understood what Death means
“Mom got lost again”
Don’t wanna go
And when I’m gone…
My Mother’s apple orchard
After Batmom’s death
And then all the unrelated stories, and obvs those are not in any particular orders :
“Bruce, my heart, I think Alfred likes my mom !”
Catching the Bat’s heart
Sneaky Bastard (NSFW, 18+, minors don’t interact)
A chance to say goodbye
Fate is a bitch part 1/?
Fate is a bitch part 2/?
Relationship headcanons part 1/?
“You could have anyone you want !”
Behave
“I don’t wanna get married”
There is nothing left of him
“Let me get one thing straight…I’m not !”
Three parts of a whole (Batman x Reader x Superman) (NSFW, 18+, minors don’t interact)
Professor Wayne ¼ (Teacher!AU)
Professor Wayne 2/4
Professor Wayne 2.5/4 (NSFW, 18+, minors don’t interact)
Professor Wayne 3/ 4
Professor Wayne 4/4
The single rider line
“Can you be my dad’s girlfriend, please ?”
“My fake boyfriend is a billionaire ?!”
From enemies to lovers
“Life is worth it, I’ll prove it” (Battinson)
Never Again (Battinson)
Yeah wow. Most of my stories are the “main” Batmom eh…
PS : I TOTALLY meant to do it by the way, to have a timeline. It was my plan all along to create a sort of universe, with a timeline that makes sense and such. I totally knew what I was doing, definitely didn’t make that timeline up on the spot…Nop’ nop’ nop’. Always meant it. Since day one. Ahem. #whenyourealizethatyoucreatedatimelinethatmadesenseanddidn’tdoitonpurpose
The Hashira and their Children
——————————————————————————
(Gyomei is introducing his chubby newborn baby to the other Hashira)
Gyomei: This is Yusuke. Y/n just gave birth to him a few weeks ago.
Mitsuri: aww! He’s so cute!
Shinobu: he looks just like you
Gyomei: would you guys like to hold him?
(After everyone but Sanemi has held the baby)
Gyomei: Shinazugawa, would you like to hold Yusuke?
Sanemi: *holding Yusuke* you look like a lump of mochi
Baby Yusuke: *face contorts and he starts to cry*
Mitsuri: Sanemi, how could you? You made him cry
Tengen: nice going Sanemi
Sanemi: *grumbling as he hands Yusuke to Gyomei* I didn’t mean to make him cry
——————————————————————————
(Kyojuro and Y/n are trying to take a family picture but their 3 year old won’t stop crying)
Y/n: what are we going to do, they won’t stop crying?
Kyojuro: Just give them a box of raisins
Y/n: Seriously?
Kyojuro: *pulls out box of raisins and hands it to his child* there see
Three year old: *immediately stops crying and is waving the raisins around*
Y/n: I swear they get that from you
——————————————————————————
(Sanemi was left at home to look after his 4 year old and 1 year old alone. He was watching them but took a small nap. He wakes up to find his oldest has drawn all over his 1 year old in marker)
Sanemi: what did you do to your brother?
Four year old: *holding the marker* wasn’t me
1 year old: *laughing*
Sanemi: *mumbles to himself* help me clean your brother up now
——————————————————————————
(Conversation between Kyojuro, Sanemi and Tengen)
Tengen: I’m pretty sure my neighbor thinks I’m a terrible father
Sanemi: just ignore them
Kyojuro: you’re not a terrible father, what makes you say that?
Tengen: they saw me chasing my naked three year old twins around the front lawn. Again
Kyojuro: why were you chasing them
Sanemi: wait, what do you mean again
Tengen: they finished taking their bathes but refused to put clothes on
Tengen: then they unlocked the front door and began running around. As soon as I caught one, I’d start chasing the other, but the one in my hands would slip out as soon as I caught the other one. My neighbors saw the whole thing
——————————————————————————
Y/n: *walks into the bathroom where their five year old son is* oh my god! What did you do
Son: *smiles and looks at their mom*
Sanemi: *comes running in* what’s wrong? What happened?
Y/n: take a look at your son, notice anything missing
Sanemi: *stares for a minute* what happened to your eyebrows?
Son: I gets rid of them. Now daddy and I match
Y/n: *turns away snickering*
Sanemi: OI!
——————————————————————————
Kyojuro: *is asleep*
3 year old: Daddy wake up
Kyojuro: *continues to sleep*
3 year old: *grabs TV remote and proceeds to smack Kyojuro with it* Daddy up!
Kyojuro: ow! I’m up
——————————————————————————
(Giyuu, y/n and their 5 year old are in their backyard)
Y/n: and just what do you think you’re doing?
5 year old: *holding a giant Japanese salamander like it’s a stuffed animal* I found him, can we keep him?
Y/n: *looks at the salamander that’s as big as their child* where did you even find that
5 year old: in the river… so… can we keep him?
Y/n: *flabbergasted* where do you expect to put him?
5 year old: in the pond with the fish
Y/n: I’m sorry but that thing will eat the fish
Y/n: *looks at Giyuu* you want to say anything?
Giyuu: …. We could build a second pond for him
Y/n: *throws hands in the air* seriously
Giyuu: what’s his name?
5 year old: Mr. Flabbs
——————————————————————————
Y/n: honey, do you know where our daughter is?
Gyomei: I believe she is in the kitchen….
Y/n: *after walking into the kitchen* oh my god no! Spit that out!
3 year old: *runs out of the kitchen*
Y/n: Gyomei catch her!
Gyomei: *catches daughter and holds her up*
Y/n: spit that out right now!
3 year old: *spits out cockroach into Gyomei’s hand*
Gyomei: please tell me this isn’t what I think it is
Y/n: I wish I could
——————————————————————————
(Y/n, Sanemi and their 3 year old are at an appliance store)
Y/n: *looking at washing machines with Sanemi* what do you think of this…. Where’s our child?
Sanemi: they were right here
Y/n: *look’s around and is mortified* oh please no
Sanemi: what?
Three year old: *is sitting on one of the display toilets with their pants down singing while grunting*
Y/n: stay here while I get the wet wipes
Sanemi: *covers his face in shame*
Store attendant: *trying so hard not to laugh*
——————————————————————————
(Obanai, Mitsuri and y/n are giving their 2 and 3 year olds a bath in the tub)
Obanai: *leaves the bathroom to grab something real quick*
Y/n: how are the kids?
Obanai: just got them into the bath
Mitsuri: *getting the kid’s pajamas ready* they are just so cute
3 year old: *shouting* boat! A boat!
Y/n: did you put toys in the tub?
Obanai: no, we don’t even have any boat toys
Mitsuri: then what is…
Obanai, y/n and Mitsuri: *runs into the bathroom*
(They walk into the bathroom to see their 2 and 3 year olds in the tub with a turd floating around)
3 year old: look a boat!
Mitsuri: *covers her face*
Y/n: *scrambles to quickly remove the kids from the tub*
Obanai: *disgusted as he empties the tub and removes the turd* I’ll run another bath
Y/n: *looks to Mitsuri* still think they’re cute?
——————————————————————————
teacher gojo finger fucking teacher!reader in a storage closet
MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI
“shhhhh,” gojo whispers in your ear, pressing his hand harder against your mouth. you gripped his wrist that was working between your legs for leverage as he fucks his fingers inside you.
the only sound you could hear was the wet mess between your legs, the sound only getting louder the longer he went on. gojo’s chest is pressed right against your back, and you can hear just how hard he’s breathing. his chest is rising as falling as fast as yours, and you swear you can hear him let out moans of his own.
“hurry sweetie, i have a class to teach in five minutes.” he teases, kissing the side of your ear. you narrowed your eyes and tried to speak against his hand, but he refused to move it. HE was the one who dragged you into the storage closet and ambushed you like an animal in heat.
your legs squeezed around his wrist when he flicked his thumb out to rub your clit, helping you cum faster. “this is what you need, right?” he whispers, his voice so close to your ear you tilt your head away at the ticklishness. “yeah, this is what you needed. i’ll keep touching it for you.”
you leaned your head back against his chest, breathing hard through your nose as gojo gives you exactly what you needed. you can feel how hard he is behind you, but he doesn’t even so much as push his erection against you. it could be self control, or it could be him ready to burst in his pants at any moment.
when you feel it rising, you tap his arm and grip his forearm with both of your hands, hard. gojo doesn’t slow down in the slightest, and you can feel his muscles flexing under your fingers. gojo presses his chin on the top of your head and looks down at his fingers in your pants, making a loud mess between them.
he’s breathing heavily with you, his sounds louder than your own. and when he crooks his fingers inside you and hits that sweet spot, it’s over. you crumble when your orgasm washes over you. gojo holds your body tight against him, one arm wrapped around your torso to keep you up, and one knee between your legs to keep you spread for him.
“yeah, just like that.” he whispers out of breath, working you through it. “god, you’re dripping.” his voice is so heady and rough, and he doesn’t slow down his fingers until he’s milked the last drop of your orgasm out of you. gojo pulls out his fingers and spins you around, hugging you to the side of his body with one arm.
you’re unsteady on your feet, face flushed and head out of it as you place your hand on his abdomen and hug him for support. he ruffles your hair sits his chin before quickly making work of his pants. “this won’t take long.” he smiles, winking at you before returning to the buttons on his pants.
he makes quick work of them, pulling out his incredibly hard cock, it’s so wet in the dim lighting it looks like he’s already cum. his smile morphs into a euphoric expression, and your mouth opens in suprise when after three jerks of his hand, his cum is already shooting from his dick.
his abs are flexing under your hands and shaking with the intensity of it. he has to bite his lip to keep his moans at bay, at the moment he finishes he’s smiling at looking down at you with that handsome expression. “told you it wouldn’t take long.”
Corpse Groom - G.S.
Synopsis. Till déath do you part…or does it when a déathly error leads your newly-wedded husband to be from beyond the gráve?
Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, CÓRPSE BRIDE!AU, arranged marriages, period-typical mísogyny, Naoya is awful, accidental marriage, ángst, major character(s) déath, HAPPY ENDING, talks of déath, kníves, poíson, reíncarnation, Gojo YEARNS, he loves you sm I cried, hándjobs, fíngering, spítting, cúmplay, BRÉEDING, creampíes, mentions of having kids, pússydrúnk Gojo, overstím, oraI (fem rec.), pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 12.7k (ohoho)
A/N. K!nktober isn’t over until I had to make a rewrite of my favorite Halloween movie mhm <3
“Mother, I refuse-”
“Nonsense, child!”
That sharp snap! of your mother’s feathered fan is loud enough that the whole carriage rattles on its hinges, creaking you noisily to what seemed like your very doom.
You gulp when she’s tilting her head down as far as her best, high-collared gown would allow, eyes narrowing. “The Zenin’s are the only nobles left in this wretched town, and I will not have my daughter marrying some commoner.”
The unsteady cobblestone pathway jostles you in your cushioned seat ever-so-slightly, a pertinent little reminder of that fact.
In the deafening silence, your father pipes up - ever-the-pacifist, “Now now, why don’t we all calm down, especially before such a glorious wedding.” But his words wither out into nothing but a whisper in the simmering tension. “Like your mother said, dear, the Zenin’s are a good family, with a uh-” Coughing nervously, “-good son. We just want you to be taken care of.”
As if that was the only thing.
But there was no use arguing.
Facing back to the gray window with a sigh, and you can only whisper. “I’d rather die than marry Naoya Zenin.”
---
“With this hand-”
“Louder.”
“With this-”
“More passionate.”
“With this damn hand-”
“Not a threat.” The older woman in front of you wrings her satin gloves, turning towards your fuming parents with a tone that matches their expression. “Honestly, I know that you new money people find it hard to adjust but this is our special tradition! My poor baby Naoya is going to be heartbroken tomorrow.”
Dutchess Zenin had a cruel sort of beauty to her, high cheekbones, and cutting eyes that picked apart every fray at your dress - the spitting image of her son.
And her “poor baby Naoya” was currently finding it impossible to hide his smirk. Swiping away invisible dust from the velvety-clad shoulder of his overpriced suit, he sets down his wine bottle from the vows.
“Don’t be too harsh, mother.” Naoya’s smooth voice comes out in a dangerous purr, and you jolt when one of his strong arms slither around your waist. Possessive. “After all, it’s this one’s face that’s what’s important.”
God, if it weren’t for your parents’ pointed looks you would have shoved this overly-perfumed bastard away from you and bolted through those high doors faster than you could say “I do.”
The Naoya Estate was as beautiful as its occupants could never be, brutal, looming architecture intended to make you feel smaller than you were. All those high cemented pillars, plush furniture, and gleaming chandeliers spoke of exactly what your parents wanted - power.
It wasn’t the sort of home you’d like to call your own, but then again, you didn’t have any choice in the matter.
“My deepest apologies on behalf of my daughter, madam-” your mother’s gritting out the words, painted lips curling ever-so-slightly towards the end with a bitter taste. “-or should I say, co-mother-in-law? Ah, come now, we might as well be family already, right?”
“Sure.” Dutchess Naoya turns, arching a needle brow. “Might as well, thanks to your family assets- if your daughter doesn’t make a joke of the vows, that is.”
The wisened officiary standing at the altar nods solemnly towards you. “Do you even want to get married tomorrow, young lady?” No, you want to answer, but bite back. “Zenin house traditions dictate that the mark of a good wife is one to follow the vows to its every syllable.”
You wince - and your features sting where they’d been perfectly stretched into a plastic smile. Your next words come out small, strangled in a way that makes your future husband smile. “I apologize, I know how important these vows are, and I’ll- I’ll do better next time.”
“Good.”
With a click of Dutchess Zenin’s fingers, a hushed, swirling piano melody fills the hall once more.
Your wedding ballad.
Something that Naoya had prattled on and on about being an esteemed tradition in the Zenin household, a tender tune to accompany their sacred vows. Modeled after the long-lost royalty of this kingdom, and this was the closest you’d get to a taste of it.
It was your one initiation into power - saying those sweet, special promises - and the one thing you found impossible to get right.
“-for I will be your wine.”
Shit.
You didn’t even realize that Naoya had polished off his own vows, before you jolt at the hefty weight of wine being poured into your cup.
And you could practically feel the burning stare of every eye in the room. Watching. Waiting.
You’re fighting against your intricate corset to gulp in a deep inhale of the stale, thickening air. Clearing your throat ever-so-slightly, you raise the hand holding onto his wedding ring. “With this hand, I will lift your sorrows. Y-your cup will never empty-” Fingers tightening around the silver goblet in your other, your breath hitches at the bile rising to your throat already. “-for I will be your- your uh- wine.”
In the corner of your vision, you could spot Naoya’s smug smirk already. You could hear his tiny “As if you have any other choice.”
You knew what he was thinking.
That whisper is enough to make your jaw grind, your hand clench in a way you’d been taught by your mother not to - in a way that she’d unfortunately forgotten to tell you was for the cup’s sake, rather than your own.
Because it only takes one harsh squeeze before it just bursts.
Red, red wine trickling all down your wrist, splattering onto the gauzy curve of your gown - but more importantly, onto Naoya’s crisp suit.
It bleeds through the velvet in thick smears, seeping into the fabric as if catching on fire. Only staining further and further with each second he’s flailing frantically to wipe it off.
“Shit- My apologies- oh, shit-” you’re gasping, but there’s no one paying enough attention to tell you off for your unlady-like profanity right now. Body moving before your mind, you snatch some of the officiary’s papers from him, “Wait, it will only get worse- let me-”
Only to forget what was in your hands.
Honestly, if this was any other time you would have laughed watching the rest of the wine nestled safely in your cup come gushing down onto whatever was left of his unmarred suit - every single inch.
It’s chaos.
Then it’s silence.
Every single breathing being in the room can only watch as the last few crimson droplets drip! drip! drip! onto Naoya Zenin’s lapels.
Wordlessly, you look to the aghast officiary, your stony-faced parents, and finally, your gaping fiancé. You’re the first to speak - to hold back your chuckles, more like. “I- I cannot apologize enough…”
“You- you witch! This was on purpose, wasn’t it? Do you know how much this custom suit cost? How it was worn by the late highness himself.” Naoya’s screeching, voice shrill. Pointing a finger accusingly at you, it would be menacing if it wasn’t for the big, fat droplets of red dripping from his angry features. More of a drenched cat than the gentleman he pretends to be. “Remember that I’m doing you a favor by marrying you-”
You cross your arms, struggling to keep composure. “I shall reimburse-”
“-and acting all haughty as if you were from the royal family itself.” he’s frantic, mouth running a mile a minute. Tugging at his wet strands, “And my hair, oh my beautiful beautiful hair-”
“I shall reimburse the emotional damages, too!”
Dutchess Zenin tackles her son into a soothing embrace you find almost comical, granting you with a venomous glare that you were sure if looks could kill, she’d be lowering you into your grave and waltzing over it with Naoya already.
Simpering, “It’s quite alright my poor boy, this wedding cannot take place! We can find another-”
“No no no- no, I still want to marry her-” His greedy eyes sweep your trembling figure up and down, “Doesn’t matter if she’s an unfit wife, I’ll fix her up-” You’re quirking a brow, “Swear I’ll marry her and fix her up into-”
THUD!
You’re throwing the cup remaining in your hand as hard as you can, hitting Naoya right in the bullseye of his chest. And as soon as the air leaves his lungs, they leave yours too - in a stubborn, infuriated hiss, “Well, I’d never marry a spoiled, pompous brat like you.”
And with a flick of the stray beads of wine on your fingers at his face for good measure, you lift your heavy skirts as scandalously far as they’d travel to dart out of the door.
Out of the winding corridors.
Out of the Zenin Estate.
Ignoring every call of your name, every arm reaching out for you - urgently following your feet wherever they took you. Honestly, you’re so busy gasping in deep lungfuls of the cool, fall air embracing you that you’re half-surprised you only crash into a few people on the streets.
Again. And again. And again and again, yet never stopping. Afraid of being followed by Naoya. Or even worse - your parents.
You barely even slow down until your tailored shoes crunch against gray snow, eyes taking in lines upon lines of towering trees in front of you. Tall, towering. Weaving their branches with the sky - ominous, almost, against the steadily darkening night creeping its way in.
The forest, you’re realizing with a gasp. Have you really come this far?
Taking a glimpse over your shoulder at the twinkling lights of the town in the distance, you think of the vows that were waiting for you, and the town rumors you’d definitely sparked. Well, a walk to cool off wouldn’t hurt…
And despite wanting to relax, your thoughts only churn with each step. Replaying the scenes from earlier over and over and-
“And your cup will always- fuck- they probably think I’m such a fool.” you’re spitting, kicking at a pile of snow. “Fuck Naoya and his vows, fuck that stupid wine, should’ve shoved it up his-”
Just then, a sudden gust of fall air puffs up against your ear, sending goosebumps careening down every bit of your exposed skin. You shudder sharply, hands shovelling for warmth inside your gown’s pockets, “Ugh, today’s such a horrible-” Only to cut yourself off with a gasp- “This is…”
You feel for that metallic cold again, hastily pulling out that solid, silvery ring. Meant for Naoya Zenin.
Admittedly gorgeous, an intricate band with a delicate sapphire embedded in its middle. Your mother had spent months tracking down the best jeweler in the country to forge a ring that even the Zenin’s would be impressed with.
Fit for a king.
You scoff, “An unfit wife, my ass. It’s not even that difficult.”
Still feeling highly insulted, and only slightly embarrassed for it, you clear your throat. Speaking clearly into the stiff air, “With this hand, I will lift your sorrows.” Determinedly you stride your way into the middle of a slight clearing, “Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine.”
Grasping a stray branch, you mock lighting the altar candles. “With this candle, I will light your way in the darkness.”
Before setting down on one knee - customary for the groom, yet feeling so right when you gaze down at a tree root sticking up from the blanket of snow. Poised like the prettiest of fingers at the foot of a towering oak.
“With this ring,” You’re sliding it down easily as you would have to onto the man you hated the most. “I ask you to be mine.”
.
.
.
You don’t expect the sudden shift.
You don’t expect the wind to pick up, you don’t expect for a murder of crows to materialize from the midnight darkness and crowd on a tree right behind you. Letting the tree root slip from your fingers, you whirl around - what- a storm?
But before you can think of any answers, that withered branch shoots further out of the ground. Barely giving you a split-second to jump backwards before cupping your cheek, gently.
And you could’ve sworn that one twig glides across your cheek - just the way one’s thumb would have. Like the softest of lovers.
Gasping in fear, you fall backwards, splaying out into the uncomfortably bone-chilling snow below.
You can only watch as the tree root twitches once. Twice. And your ears thunder with the high-pitched howls of the wind, and a sudden, booming bang! bang! bang!
Shit.
Your eyes widen, it was coming from under the ground.
The ground that was splitting open before your very eyes.
Wider. And wider. Like something was baring itself before you. Something was clawing all the way from hell, that tree root only surging up, up, upwards in a long, limb-like fashion. Branching out into five fingers that dig their way into the ground. Hard.
And if you didn’t think you were about to faint from just this - you were definitely on the verge of it when the fingers lead their way into a forearm, a shoulder. Miles upon miles of skin - a person, towering above you, silhouetted by moonlight.
He looks at you with sapphire eyes. Close.
A man.
Beautiful.
Whispering, “I do.” Nose to cold nose, thick white lashes fluttering shut. “You may now kiss the groom.”
---
You’re barely half-awake when you realize that that was probably the strangest dream you’ve had in your life.
Groaning, you rub blearily at your eyes - yet, through the bursts of stars and pounding flashes of headaches, all you can think about is him and his chilling lips on yours.
Soft, like a leaving lover.
Even in your most feverish of dreams, you’d never conjured up anyone so ethereal. Tall, powerful despite the almost-sickly air about him, and the deep circles underneath his gleaming eyes.
But so gorgeous - sorrowfully so.
The image burned permanently into your mind, like your most favorite of memories. Every tiny detail down from the almost-blinding reflection of the moon against his cloudy hair, to how that illuminated his soft smile - that tiny dimple at the corner of his pert, pretty mouth.
You remember how he wore a wedding suit, the kind that nobles these days wouldn’t dare touch with a six foot sword with how it looked centuries out of fashion. Stark white, with fine silver detailing down the velvety fabric for you to admire.
How ironic, somehow, the thought made you sad.
But most of all, you especially remember the way he looked at you.
Just like he was right now.
“Ah!”
“Now that’s not usually the reaction I- fuck!”
He was real. So painfully real.
And clutching his face where you’d claimed a swat at one of high cheekbones.
“Ouch, my wife has a real good arm on her, huh?” Blinking back the haziness in your eyes, you catch sight of that same summer blue gaze, eyes crinkled slightly at the ends. Tender, despite being attacked by you less than a minute after gaining consciousness. “Though, I love a strong woman.”
“New arrival! Looks like we got ourselves a breather-”
“Looks like she fainted, is she alright? You know we can’t keep her long-”
“Can I touch her? Looks so soft~”
White - white fills your vision, too-late are you realizing that you’re being pressed into the soft coat of his chest. Inching you away from a hulking, four-armed creature, he mutters, “She’s my wife, you curse.”
“What-” It takes you a few more seconds to finally find your voice. In those moments you look up to take in his boyishly pretty features - about your age. Human, had it not been for that otherworldly faint blue pallor. “Is this a joke? Where am-”
Choking on your words as you take a sweeping look around the - tavern? Realm? It looked like the very same one in your own town, except bright. Musical. Everything that your home wasn’t. Finding faces you could never imagine looking at you - some beautiful, some mere skeletons, all taken out of your wildest dreams.
And all dead, it hits you with a jolt.
Yet, somehow, you’ve never felt safer in his arms.
“Something wrong, my love?”
You pinch yourself, “I need questions- now.”
“You mean answers.” One from the pub crowd scoffs - a towering man, handsome. He’d look ever-so-ordinary if it wasn’t for the completely skeletal arm on his left side. And of course, that same death-like serenity. “Honestly, Gojo, you picked an airhead or what?”
The man that still held you - Gojo, you assume - whines in protest, “Shut up, Toji. I’d always love her regardless- and she said her vows so perfectly.”
“I did…” you breathe.
Shit.
Shit shit shit- you did.
Cocking your head, you ask. “Who are you?”
He’s rolling his eyes, gifting you a crooked grin of pearly whites. “Your husband, obviously?”
And before you can pinch yourself again to make sure you weren’t dreaming, and that last time was a fluke - or perhaps smack him again - Gojo shows off one slender hand. Naoya Zenin’s ring adorned proudly across his ring finger. Your ring. With your vows.
“So…” you let out a giggle of still disbelief. “You’re the tree-”
“Not quite but-”
“Oh! I love this story- could make a skeleton cry.”
“Heh, yeah yeah sing it, king of curses.”
“Please don’t.”
“You see, welcome to the Land of the Dead, doll.” A man with pink hair sets down his drink to throw one of his four arms around your shoulder, much to Gojo’s chagrin. Words dripping with taunt, “N’ lemme tell you the story of our lovely corpse groom.”
You’re dragged along through the crowded, eerily lit tavern, everyone jostling each other to better get a look at you. Poking and prodding, some even gasping at the feeling of your thundering pulse.
He hums, “Here we have a pompous prince known miles around-” And you could tell him and Gojo had already known each other long, with how he was toying with the other man. “-fell hard and fast for a cute lil’ peasant girl much like yourself-”
“Sukuna, stop it.” Gojo grits, jaw clenched.
“-but, alas. When dear ol’ dad the king said ‘no’, he jus’ couldn’t cope. So our dear lovers came up with a plan to elope-”
You’re thrust into the arms of an attractive blond man, almost half of his entire face held together with stitches and bone. Heaving out a sigh in a way you could very much feel akin to, “Meeting up late at night is always a stupid plan, even with all the wine and riches for the road. You might not need much when you have love, but you never know what’s lurking. And, well, on that dark night, our prince here paid the price.” When you look back at the white-haired man his eyes seemed significantly softer, if that was even possible.
Toji’s the one by your side this time, “Poof! Dropped dead as dust waiting for his dear girl, no evidence, no body, no bride. What a crybaby he was when he arrived. Didn’t even want to stay here-”
“-because then he made a promise to wait upstairs.” Another man - with such gorgeous, long hair makes himself known this time. Forehead littered in strange stitches, as if it’d been opened and fixed many, many times. “And waited and waited asleep for one hundred years to this day until out of the blue, you came along, sweetness. The lovely bride, to our corpse groom.”
You.
And Gojo looks at you like he can’t look away.
Lone, standing there with his arms open as the story tapers out. Waiting.
Until you came along.
---
“HERE YE, HERE YE…FUTURE BRIDE OF ZENIN HOUSE SEEN LURKING IN THE FOREST WITH A MYSTERY MAN– now for the weather…”
“What?” your mother hisses at the bellows of the local newsman, well, rumor-spreader, more like. But he’s never been more useful than now. Sneaking an urgent glance at the stunned Dutchess Zenin by her side, she elbows your father, “We come outside to search for our daughter only to hear this? How could we let this-”
“Maybe it’s a ah- slow news day?”
They’re interrupted by a sudden, sharp clearing of one’s throat - dripping with the distinct tone of condescension that only a member of the Zenin family could possess. “We are one bride short for the wedding tomorrow. What a scandal!”
“Ah!” she’s gasping. Waving her hands frantically, “W-we promise we’ll find her before the wedding-”
“You better.”
“No.” Naoya Zenin’s voice was brimming with something dangerous, an eerie, steady lilt of determination to it. But he’s not even looking at anyone in the group, eyes trained firmly on the woody entrance to the forest in the distance. “I’ll be the one to find her.”
Finally, something that seems to appease the huffing matriarch.
Only leaving her sullen son with a nod of approval, “And Naoya…” She makes sure the other two bothers were out of earshot, greedily scurrying back to the warmth of the Zenin household. “Remember, the ah- family funds are drying up. Hurry.”
---
Gojo Satoru, you learn, was as nervous about this marriage as you were.
“This is where I always visited after first dying.” he muses, ice-cold fingers wrapped snugly with yours as he guides you gently through various crooked stairs and skeletons of town. “The view takes my breath away- well, if I could breathe, that is.”
You’re startling out a laugh that has both of you surprised, and he turns to you with such breathless awe.
“Beautiful.”
“What-” your eyes widen - and you don’t know whether it’s from his sudden little compliment, or from where you two had finally stopped walking.
A steep cliff, overlooking the entire, vast town of multi-color lights. The rigid structure from where you came could never compare. Complete chaos. But as pretty as those paintings you read about in books, views you never thought you’d see.
You rest your hands atop the spindly barrier surrounding the very edge, marveling. “It is beautiful…”
“It is.” Gojo’s tone is rich, and his eyes never stray from you despite all else there is to drink in. It takes you a few moments of counting all the bustling figures in the distance before you finally mount up the courage to meet his hypnotic gaze.
Gojo jolts when you look his way, as if he wasn’t expecting it. Hastily, he flusters to pat down the sides of his suit - tattered at places, patchy as if once-pristine but ruined with age. He’s smiling once he ruffles through his breast pocket, pulling out something glinting.
You’re letting out a tiny gasp when he shows off a silver, heart-shaped locket. Intricate, obviously custom-tailored - you’d never quite seen anything like it. Positively beaming with all the shine that the rest of him had lost.
Treasured.
“It’s for you.”
“What?” Your jaw falls slack in shock, pushing away Gojo’s held-out hands. But he was ever-persistent. “Please- I can’t, that- that looks like it should be for someone precious.”
“And it is.”
This was the firmest you’d heard his sing-song voice, and at your slightest split-second of faltering, he snatches the opportunity to circle his hands around your neck. Deftly clasping it from behind, Gojo only smiles, soft pads of his fingers lingering at your nape. “I’ve had it for years.” You wanted to know exactly how many years that meant. “Consider it a wedding gift~”
Your own dust over the cool metal pendant, heart lurching. “If only you let me know about our wedding in advance, I would’ve gifted you something, too.”
“Heh, you don’t have to.”
“Do too”
“Do not.”
“Do too.” You cross your arms, boring your eyes into his. “I’m not going to be an unfit wife.”
There’s a second of silence.
One.
Two.
And at this point, you half-expected your parents and Naoya’s to just burst from behind the nearby stairway to tell you this was all some elaborate test - before Gojo just explodes in peels of cackles.
“I’m sorry- I’m sorry I- hah!” he’s barely able to wheeze out, wiping away stray tears of joy. “You never change, huh-”
It takes the embarrassed tapping of your feet for Gojo to finally straighten back up to his tall figure, muttering out a few more indiscernible phrases underneath his breath. Clearing his throat, “Now who said you’d ever be an ‘unfit wife’, sweetheart- Y’know I really didn’t believe Toji’s airhead comment but- oh-”
You land a half-hearted punch solidly in his stomach - and usually, you’d think twice, thrice before acting this familiar with anyone. Even then, you wouldn’t follow through underneath your mother’s watchful eye.
Ah, but you’ve never smiled harder when you claim. “I think I won our first argument as a married couple.”
“Oh, can you do this f’me when I have an argument with Sukuna, next?” Gojo chuckles, wiggling his brows.
He has to dodge your playful hand a few more times - well, he would have had to. But he’s taking them all gladly, pulling you by the wrist to press you flush against his chest. “But fine, you win. Maybe as a wedding gift we can consumm- I’m kidding I’m kidding- follow me, I have the perfect idea.”
And you couldn’t not come with him, with the way that Gojo was eagerly dragging you through the town plaza and back into the now-empty tavern, where you’d remembered had a grand piano nestled away.
Gojo’s pulling out the seat for you, before promptly taking his own flush beside you. Nudging you with one of his shoulders, he starts up a beautifully haunting few lower notes. Delicate. “You don’t have to play, you can listen if you’d like-”
“Hey, I know this one.” you’re gasping, eyes lighting up with the recognition of that familiar somber from the Zenin house. But something about it this time felt so right.
Before you know it, your hands are moving faster than you can hold them back, joining Gojo in his sweeping melody on the higher notes. It rings in the air around you two, jostling your body up against his.
“You know it.” he breathes, such a brilliant grin making way onto his pretty features when you two continue your little duet. And you swear you could hear him suck in a sharp inhale before playing even harder on the keys - a challenge.
And you were never one to back down.
“Heh, you’re not half bad-” But his own little boast gets cut off by Gojo’s half-skeletal wrist snapping off, twiddling up, up, up the grand piano and on its merry way around your shoulder. “Pardon my enthusiasm, my love.”
You help him reattach it back, an interesting quirk of being half-dead, you suppose. “I like your enthusiasm.”
There’s a slow, stuttering silence that echoes afterwards, and you’re shivering from the slightly cold bite of the underground. Gojo wraps his full arm around your shoulder this time, and you don’t have the heart to tell him that he was still bone-cold.
“How…” he gulps, barely meeting your eyes. “How did you know that song?”
But you couldn’t tear yours away from him, “Oh? That song? Well- before I uh- married you, I was actually engaged-”
His pretty lips fall slack, “Oh…”
You’re not sure why you hasten to explain yourself, “B-but he was a prick- and I threw a wine cup at him just before coming here.”
“That’s my girl.” Gojo winks, and you’re feeling your skin heat up.
“Anyway, this song was to be played at the wedding. So my mother made me memorize every single note- she failed to tell me it was a duet, however.”
“It was.”
Something about those two words comes out breathless, barely hanging on. And you’re biting your bottom lip ragged before the question escapes you, “You were engaged, as well? Before- as a prince- I mean- oh, forget-”
To your surprise, Gojo only chuckles - deep voice breaking ever-so-slightly at the very end. His fingers glide across the piano with a familiar sadness that you can’t quite pinpoint. Chest rumbling, “Well, it’s just as the others said. We were meant to run away together, but your dear ol’ husband here died just before we could.”
You’re swallowing the lead that’d seemed to piled up heavily in your throat, still afraid to push too far. “And the- the bride? What happened to her?”
“I…don’t know…she probably saw I wasn’t there and went back, had a happier life with a more deserving husband- children, even.” He looks towards the perpetual night sky, Adam’s apple bobbing heftily. “It’s funny- today’s a hundred years since that day.”
Something hurt. And your chest churned at the thought of him waiting and waiting in the darkness for years. For someone.
“You loved her?”
He looks at you - really looks at you - and then down at the gleaming locket. “I love her. And I made a promise, I wait for her - in life and death.”
Something really hurt - and it wasn’t just that hollow, aching burn in your chest. No, your head was now throbbing with such a splitting pain that you can’t help but grab your temple with a yelp. Eyes scrunching shut with tears, trying to down out that drilling thrum.
“Shit-” you’re hearing, foggy, like it was in the distance. “Shit shit shit-” Big arms wrap around you, “Are you alright? Shit-”
The swinging pub doors slam-
“What happened?”
“The bride from upstairs-”
“She’s still here?! She already dead or what?”
More and more voices are joining in - and you’re not sure if you’re thankful that they drown out that harrowing thunder of blood in your ears or angry that they’re making it ache more deafeningly in response.
“Please- space.” Gojo’s stern command rings across the plaza, for a moment of clarity you’re thinking that he’d make the perfect leader of sorts. The perfect prince. “My wife needs space, and you all will leave-”
Nanami’s strict tremor was distinguishable anywhere. “What she needs is to go back upstairs, Gojo.” Another pair of rough hands grasp your shoulders, and you hear a growl from above you. “With fresh air, with her kind. I don’t know what fantasy you’re playing out but she needs to be back with the breathers, down here isn’t good for her.”
“But-”
Just at that unfortunate moment, your head wracks with another painful burst, making you cry out. Clinging onto Gojo’s soft jacket for dear life.
“But she’s my wife.”
Everyone goes quiet.
You were sure he was crying now, and oh how badly you wanted to reach out and comfort him. But, instead, Gojo’s the one soothing a hand down your back, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. He breathes in deep, grounding gasps by the chain of your locket, “N-nanamin’s right- we- I have to get you back.”
Your eyes shoot open, “What- no-”
“It’s for your own good.” Pressing a slow kiss to your forehead, “Trust me.”
“But-”
“Please?”
---
Gojo Satoru had spent so long in the darkness, that he’d almost forgotten how beautiful the moonlight is.
Even more so when you were by his side.
“Oh…” And despite not having a beating heart, he swears he could feel it racing at the crisp scrunch! of freshly fallen snow underneath his polished shoes. Arms immediately wrapping around your waist, twirling you to him, “How I missed the beautiful upstairs.”
You’re giggling, batting your lashes up at him. “Well, you’re not doing much sightseeing right now, are you, Gojo?”
“Please.” He rests his icy forehead against yours, waltzing you slowly around the clearing. Your first dance. “Call me Satoru, I would like to part ways having heard my name on your tongue once, than not at all.”
And ah, it hurt him more than that dull, spreading pain of death to simply see your expression crumble. Lower lip wobbling when you whisper, “Do we have to?”
It’s as if that tiny tremble in your voice jolts him back to his senses, and he’s letting go of you as if you burned. Turning his back so that you won’t see him swipe underneath his dampening eyes, “We do.” he nods solemnly. Still gazing out through the barren trees, the snow breaking in. “But I would…if you’d like- I would really like you to say my name just once.”
Nothing - not one of your quipping insults, not even one of your sweet, sweet giggles. Gojo could barely even hear that shallow breathing of yours.
“My love?”
Nothing.
Gojo whirls around, “My love?”
Nothing.
---
“Let me go let me- go-” you spit, voice dripping with a deadly growl that should decidedly not be used in front of your future in-laws. But you didn’t give a fuck right now. “I will never- ah-”
Unceremoniously, you’re thrown like a mere debris in front of Dutchess Zenin’s gold-tipped boots, hands splaying out against the cool marble to dredge up some ounce of balance. You look up into her burning glare, hissing, “I will never marry your son.”
But it’s like you’d never spoken at all.
She’s turning to Naoya, stood proudly behind you, holding back his snickers. “Ah, my son-” Reaching her arms around to brush off the soft pattering of snow down his coat. “-I see you’ve brought your wife back.”
“Of course, mother.” he’s humming. “Had to walk all throughout that crummy forest until I saw her-” At this, he’s turning towards your parents, who could only watch from the sidelines. “-with another man no less- well, can’t quite call him that if he didn’t even see his woman being dragged off into the dark.”
Dutchess Zenin cackles,and the sound makes you grit your teeth. “That other man is my husband-”
“What?”
It’s your own mother speaking this time - eyes widened. Fuming. She comes up to you in a few urgent, sharp strides, grabbing at the now-torn and frayed edges of your gown. “What nonsense are you speaking-” Sneaking a glance at your father, “Our daughter seems to have lost her mind, dear.”
He’s just a bit more gentle - cautious, almost. As if confronting a cornered wildcat when he ruffles through your pockets for the ring. Finding none.
You’re wrenching yourself away, “I’m fine- but father, listen- I was practicing my vows in the forest-” Every eye was on you know, and oh you’ve never felt more of a spectacle. “-and I put that wedding ring on a tree root- and it- it came alive and oh- he was a groom. A beautiful corpse groom-”
“That trip to the forest must have bogged up her mind- yes yes, she must be imagining things.”
“Of course, but the wedding…poor dear-”
“The only thing she’s good for is the money.” Dutchess Zenin gruffs, tired of hiding her disdain. “And maybe a free trip to the hospi-”
“The wedding will take place.” Naoya cuts in gruffly, snapping his fingers at a nearby attendant and pointing at you. “Call the officiary, and as for my future bride, I don’t care if you must force her into that wedding dress, I don’t care if you have to drag her here - she will marry me one way or the other. Now.”
It’s like you’re a puppet - their puppet. Being rapidly walked and bathed about, dolled-up in a white, silken wedding dress that you could never see yourself standing in next to him.
It fits you like a glove, attuned to your body as if it was made for you - and you almost hated how beautiful it was, adorned with tiny silver inklings and the most delicate of lace. Made with too much love to be borne out of this dreary household, but when you turned to ask your jittery handmaiden about it, she’d only cryptically answered about “the dress being with this family for a long, long time.”
No one here seems to give you answers.
Or grace.
Or anything but locked windows that you crack a nail or two attempting to open and flee and a long, decorated aisle to walk down to your future husband. Naoya.
Your throat tightens when you’re stepping back into that hallway - now flourishing with bouquets of blue, blue baby’s breath, and twinkling candles. It was almost colorful, for this town, at least.
You shudder out a teary sigh when the tender piano starts up again - the exact same tune you’d played with Gojo. But cold. And suddenly, you’re realizing that you never asked him how he knew the song.
“Pssst! Walk!” Your mother’s high-pitched hiss is enough to snap you out of your little reverie, glassy eyes snapping up to look at her urgent signal to hurry up.
And so you walk, but not to the one man you wanted to.
Naoya’s smirk lies as smugly as ever when you take your place beside him at the altar, poised, and perfect in his pressed suit, his glinting sword. Whispering snidely from the corner of his mouth. “Smile a little, it’s a wedding after all.”
You keep your gaze trained firmly on the officiary starting his speech, “Perhaps in disappointment, we are perfectly matched.”
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join this man and this bride in holy matrimony-” Gesturing a wrinkled hand at Naoya, “You may begin first.”
He raises his hand in a solemn oath, razor eyes boring relentlessly into yours. Voice dangerous, humming. “With this hand, I will lift your sorrows.” This time, he was pointedly the one to pick up that cup on the altar table - a steady, unbreakable metal this time. “Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine.”
Your trembly fingers wrap around the bottle of wine, starting to slowly pour. “With this hand, I will lift your sorrows. Your cup will never be empty for I- I will be…”
Shit.
Shit, you can’t do it.
Your words struggle to come out, and you could burn in the sheer anger already wafting from Naoya.
“I will- I will be-”
“How scandalous to marry an already-married woman~!”
The gasp that echoes throughout the hall is almost as deafening as the booming crash! of those towering, mahogany doors being swung open. Clattering against the walls so hard that your teeth chatter with vibration - but you didn’t care. Didn’t even feel it because you’re too awe-struck by what was standing in front of you.
Or more accurately, who.
“Satoru!” The tears are falling hotly down your cheeks, you barely have the patience to lift up your layers upon layers of gauzy skirts before stumbling your way into his arms at the very end of the aisle. Ready. Ever-loving. Catching you easily like he’d been waiting a hundred years for this very moment.
“I thought you left me waiting.” he breathes.
“I would never- and- and you’re here.”
“Mhm–”
You can’t help but let out a laugh, “How did you even know where to find me?”
“Our duet- there would be no other but this house that would know it-” He wraps his arms even more snugly around your waist, white locks tickling your nose. “And you did promise to lift my sorrows, what type of husband would I be if I didn’t do the same?”
“You. You- What- what is the meaning of this?” Dutchess Zenin’s squawk tears through your little moment, she’s whirling into a furious stand, fists clenched. “Married woman- husband? You’re dead!”
Gojo remains calm, sapphire eyes narrowing, “I am.”
But the ever-composed woman you’d feared for so long was now running her mouth a mile a minute, half-ripping out chunks of hair in frustration as the officiary held her back from storming her way towards the two of you.
“You’re dead you’re dead you’re dead-” she screeches, and even Naoya could only watch with his mouth fallen. “You’re dead- my family made sure of that-”
She stops short, mouth opening and closing in a gasp until you breathe, “M-made sure?”
“Yes-” She’s fighting against the hold, still muttering to herself maniacally. “Shit- we made sure to- oh god why- do we have to kill you all over again! Your wretched Gojo royal family is wiped out- I still- I still have the power, the riches- All because we left you-”
“For dead.” he whispers. You’re too shocked to gasp - to do anything but look up at his reaction. “But she came back to me.”
“Her? This one- Once more you found that insignificant little-”
And at this very moment, Naoya just bellows in a guttural scream, everything his mother was restrained from doing with how he’d closed the gap between you two in a few urgent seconds. One hand wrapped roughly around yours, “I don’t care- You forget she was engaged to me first.”
“She’s still my wife.” Gojo spits.
“Not if you’re-” Naoya’s unsheathing his sword haphazardly. Swinging. “Dead!”
Schwing–!
It would have been sure to hit you.
Would have been sure to gravely injure your side - if Gojo hadn’t deftly moved himself squarely in front of you, that is. The sharp blade slicing right through his ribs - yet, he still smiles. “You forget I already am.” In one, fluid motion tackling the sword to holt at its bejeweled hilt - pointed right at Naoya’s chest. “Let go of me and my wife, before you join me.”
It’s silence.
Silence and the smell of fear. Sour, and saturated when Naoya’s stepping away, one unsteady foot after the other-
“I will ruin you as my ancestors have, Gojo brat-”
Dutchess Zenin.
Your body moves before your mind - before any form of thinking, as if on instinct. Yet, you already knew what was coming.
And soon enough, you’re standing in front of a stunned Gojo, face splattered with the red, red wine in her silvery cup. Drip! drip! dripping down your stained lips and onto the marbled floors.
But something about it tasted bitter.
Different.
.
.
.
And all of a sudden - you see dark.
“Poison! By gods, the wine was poisoned!”
“How will the wedding go on?”
“No- no no no I just wanted to her sick- to get her will–shit-”
“My love---listen----hear--me?”
In the foggy distance, you could hear girlish, high-pitched screams that sounded strangely like Naoya’s, and the familiarly dark chuckle of- Sukuna? Sounding ready to pounce on fresh meat. “Heheh, new arrival - and some unfinished business, huh?”
“S’Toru–” you’re whispering, eyes blearily. Heart cold. Suddenly, everything about you was cold. And the only thing you could register right now is the fact that you were still in his arms - always was. “Toru- am I- where am I?”
“You’re here, sweetheart.” he gasps, big fat tears splattering onto your face. The only sense of warmth that you could feel, other than the one in your no-longer-beating heart. And you can’t help but wonder - can a heart be broken even when it stops beating? Because he was living two deaths now - his own - laying there poisoned with wine so long ago on the forest floor, with only the Zenin’s to watch, and you to wait for him much later - and most importantly, yours. “You’re- you’re here, with me.” He places a sweet, sweet kiss onto your lips. “Rest now, I’ll wait for you. I promise- I promise.”
And through your hazy vision, the only thing that you could quite see was that silver locket you’d never thought to look through, out of fear - sprung open. Baring two grainy, clouded portraits - as good as a photo.
Of him
And…you.
“I’ll always wait for you, in life and death.”
---
“Hey- Toru–” your voice rings out in Gojo’s favorite song, peering curiously at the boyishly grinning prince. “Do you think I’ll be an unfit wife?”
He throws his head back with a cackle, peering through his long lashes from where he was resting his head in your lap. “What- no? Whatever makes you think that, silly girl?”
You’re settling yourself further down the young oak - your favorite little hiding spot ever since you’d introduced your secret lover to it. Grumbling half-jokingly, you thread your fingers through his soft, snow-white hair. “Well perhaps because someone refuses to help me do anything in preparation for tonight-”
“Shhh!” Gojo’s bringing a finger to his lips, glancing around over-dramatically. “You never know when my father will be jumping from behind the bushes.” At your amused laughter, “N’ besides, doesn’t matter if we’re going to elope, I’m not letting my wife pick up a thing.”
“What- no-”
“I’ll snag my wedding suit- and that specially-made dress for you heh- and get the attendants to sneak out some leftovers from the banquet. The Zenin family has just gifted some wine I know you’ll love.”
Craning his head to press a slow kiss to your forehead, “We’ll drink, we’ll say our vows- you better have memorized them this time-” And another on your nose, “Then I’ll have you drunk in another way~ ow! Okay okay- don’t hit royalty–! And run away to our happily ever after.” Then, finally, lingeringly on your mouth,“Trust me.”
“But-”
“Please?”
You’re fiddling with the chain around your hefty, heart-shaped locket with a huff, finally caving in. “Fine- but then-” Deftly unclasping it, “-you have the responsibility of keeping this safe, too, I have to teach piano to the little ones in town again today, and if anyone catches me with a piece like this I’ll be hanged for thievery before ever getting married.”
“Our duet?”
“Our duet.”
He twirls that delicate pendant around his fingers, brows scrunching in half-seriousness. “I’ll protect it with my life-” Almost flinging it towards the end of the clearing in his haste to salute you, “Ah- pardon my enthusiasm, my love.”
“I like your enthusiasm, dummy.” you’re rolling your eyes at his antics. “But what if I’m late? The music lessons always take so long…”
“Just meet me here at our place - promise I’ll wait for you, of course. In life and death.”
You never did find out if Gojo Satoru waited for you.
You never found him that night - running late to the clearing, only to be met with no sign of him. Not that night. Not the night after. Night after night, you waited for him - watched as the Gojo royal family fell and the Zenin’s raided their palace, as the town started to grow and you stayed the very same.
With stray hope, even in your final ages, waiting for him and the marriage that won’t take place.
Not for a hundred years.
---
You’re waking up remembering the feeling of those cold, cold lips on yours.
Finally, remembering.
“Sa-Toru-” you’re gasping, gulping in heavy lungfuls of air before you realize - you don’t need it anymore. Eyes startling open, you wince at the even the dim, heady lighting overhead. “I’m…”
“Dead.”
His words are gentle - just above a whisper, as if anything else will scare you off. But his words have the complete opposite reaction, in fact, you’re reeling him in so close by the silvery lapels of his weathered jacket. Wedding suit meeting your wedding dress.
You feel over his broad chest, and then over yours. Breathing out in awe, “I- I really am dead.”
Gojo’s wincing, running the soft pads of his fingers down your scalp. Massaging, “How- how do you feel, my love?”
Too-late you’re realizing that you’re splayed out on what seems like a plush, engulfing bed. Blankets upon blankets of velvety fabrics covering the surface, like someone had tried their very best to replicate warmth.
“I think I feel…” you’re muttering, the very corners of your painted lips turning upwards at the way that Gojo was hanging onto your every word. Pretty mouth dropped into a soft oh! eyes wide and true. You just can’t help but drag him into the tightest embrace your joints could possibly handle. “-that I haven’t spent enough alone-time with my husband.”
He laughs - he laughs and laughs like he hasn’t before, like it’d been bubbling up in his throat for years and finally set free.
“Oh, my love.” Gojo reveres, pressing a trail of hot kisses down the side of your face. Lingering in a languid lick where big, salty tears of yours were welling up. “We have all the time in the world- I just- just- do you remember?”
You’re pretending to think, leaving him careening at all your minute expressions. Finally cracking, “Of course, I remember- all of it, dummy-” Swatting his chest, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He’s gulping heavily, “I always knew that- that it was you the moment I saw your face- you look exactly as you did. Exactly as beautiful as the day I lost you, after all.” Cupping your cheek, “And oh, sweetheart, what a blessing it would be to marry you. But how could I ever tell you when you didn’t even remember me? How could I so selfishly ask you to throw away something so dear as life for me? Even for a promise?”
“I would have done it.” you’re pouting, brows scrunching.
“Exactly.”
“I waited for you, y’know. For years, until my death. No ‘deserving husband’, and no children.”
He gasps a tiny, meaningful gasp. And for all how Gojo loved to run his mouth, right now he only presses a sultry kiss to your forehead, “But in this life, or the last, or whatever comes next-” On your nose now, “-I’ll wait for you. Always have, always will.” Finally - yearningly - on your mouth, “In life and in death.”
Gojo kisses you like he’s been waiting a hundred years for it - and would wait a hundred more before he can again.
Pressing one, two. Three steamingly hot, open-mouthed on your spit-glossed lips before moving to trail them down the underside of your jaw. Dragging his raw lips in a messy glide, he’s tittering when all it takes is one sudden bite at the soft spot on your neck to get you to jump.
“Heh- you never change-” he murmurs into your heated skin, licking down the sting with a slow spread of his tongue.
“T-Toru–” you’re managing to gasp out despite his relentless attack on your mouth. Making him wrench out such a pained grunt when you pull his face back ever-so-slightly to look into Gojo’s eyes. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
Gojo can only cock his head in confusion, gaze still half-lidded and locked on your lips.
“You’re forgetting your promise from all those years ago–” you’re dragging out in a honeyed-tone, giggling at the way his hulking body squirms impatiently. “-to consummate our marriage.”
And oh.
Oh, Gojo Satoru feels he’s dying six times over already.
He feels like his bleary head is about to go into overdrive - as was the sudden tightening in his pants.
“W-well then…” he’s rasping out, voice so ragged, dipping into a husky baritone that for a second you almost don’t recognize it. Two of his long fingers cup your face once more - rougher this time, making your lips squeeze together into an almost-embarrassing oh! “Open that mouth f’me, my love.”
You barely even realize it when you do - not until Gojo’s spitting a thick, translucent wad of his syrupy saliva right onto your lolling tongue.
Nodding smugly when you’re taking him all, he’s swiping the curve of his thick thumb down that purposeful splatter on the corner of your lips. Because you knew the prince of a nation should have perfect aim, you knew he just liked seeing your dewy eyes flutter.
Whispering hoarsely against your lips, “I ask you to be mine.”
“Yes-” you’re whining, your hands scrambling down the decadent fabrics of his suit. “Yes yes yes- please- n-need more, Toru-”
And the sound of that cute lil’ nickname you’d made for him in that sweetened tone makes Gojo’s entire body wrack with a violent shudder. Head throwing back, white lashes flickering shut- “O-oh, shit- shit you’re gonna be the death of me-”
But whatever little joke playing on your tongue just dissipates when Gojo’s shedding his outer coat off slowly. Bloodied, silken jacket hitting the ground- bloodied? You’ll have to ask about that later.
And then his mouth is on yours again - teeth clashing, tasting metal, his pretty lips wrapping around your hot tongue to just suck. Lazily, like his favorite candy.
“So beautiful-” his words puff out in a feverish pant. Chest huffing - no, heaving - you can only keen when you feel something so hard and massive nudge up in a gentle kiss against your high. “So perfect–” The sodden curve of his achy tip dragging in a wet smear down your leg. “So mine.”
As soon as you’re blinking your dazed eyes back open, you’re hit with what looked like miles upon miles of Gojo Satoru. Curving muscles sitting prettily and casting shadow in the low lighting - it made you just drool.
Shit, when did he even take his shirt off?
“Heh, already so needy, sweetheart?” He kisses up the glossy trickle, groaning into your mouth, “So cute–”
But, of course, you weren’t exactly one to be pushed around, either.
With a low purr, you cup that bulging tent right in-between his muscled thighs. Fingers skimming over inches upon inches of his girthy, solid shaft - he just gasps. “O-oh, you little minx- do you enjoy p-playing with my hngh- sanity?”
With a snicker, it doesn’t take you long to smudge the pads of your digits at that thickly spreading pool of precum. Glossing a thin sheen all the way down to your wrists with how fucking greedily he was throbbing at your touch.
“F-fuck-” he’s hastily clearing his throat as soon as it breaks off into a pathetic whine. Hips bucking forwards in mindless, staggering gyrations into your hand like Gojo didn’t even realize what he was doing right now. “Fuck fuck fuck- honey, I-”
The neediest little grunts spill from his puffed-up lips, and he’s moving urgently - hastily, when sitting upright to all but rip that bejeweled belt off of his slender waist. Tugging his white pants down, down, down and-
Oh.
“Fuck, Toru.”
Gojo was so unfairly pretty - all of him.
Even every single inch of his long, thick shaft, smeared with glistening precum sobbing out from his fat, round head. Blushed darker than the rest of him - matching his innocent cheeks right now. So hard it looked painful.
Twitching over and over in saturated gushes coating his prominently throbbing veins, his tight balls. Your fingers.
Wrapping tight around his flushed base, he was so incredibly big that you’re worried your fingers wouldn’t even close. Scratching up against those drenched tufts of cloudy white at his toned pelvis, the sight is enough to make you gulp.
“Yes-” Gojo’s rasping, head thrown back because shit did it feel good to have your pretty lil’ fingers all wrapped around him. Hips stuttering up, up, up- “Yes yes yes- c’mon- c-c’mon my wife-”
Shit, those words spilling from his lips are enough to steer into such a loud moan, and he’s letting his jaw fall unhinged. Jaw-droppingly powerful back muscles flexing when he falls into a hunch, kissing wetly at your lips.
“Tighter- squeeze ah, squeeze me at my tip-” Gojo’s babbling, drunken eyes so thoroughly locked on where you were pumping your fist back and forth. “Y-yeah hngh- and glide your thumb over just—”
You’re swiping the very tip of your thumb underneath that sensitive slit of his, the slightest touch enough to make him bawl out in a dripping sheen of precum. Reddening even more, his hefty girth in your hand jolts sensitively.
“S-s’this–” you stagger out, wrist aching when you’re moving it faster. And faster. Ears ringing with the sloppy fap! fap! fap! of your fingers clenching around his thick, circular girth, the splatters of precum it’s forcing from him. Kissing gently down his burning shoulder, “S’this good, Toru?”
And god, how dare you even ask that?
With a sudden groan, he crashes his lips into yours again. Addicted. Growling against your whiny mouth, you’re flinching at the nip of his sharp canines.
“Oh, yer perfect-” he’s blinking back big, fat tears from behind those glassy eyes. And the soft plane of his palms dance ravenously down your body - all your curves, your dips where your wedding dress was hiking up. But most importantly at your sopping wet cunt. “-so so- p-perfect- any harder n’ m’gonna make ya a pretty momma right now, right here.”
His words come out a burst - a beg.
In that very heady moment he’s just bullying his thick digits past your soaked pussy - absolutely useless with how fucking translucent it was. Sticking to your sopping wet folds like a second skin that he wanted to rip off.
“S-so oh!” Sucking in a sharp gasp at the sight of that tiny lace wrapped around his fingers, “Such a pretty cunt, wearin’ such a dirty lil’ thing, naughty girl- who was this for?”
And you couldn’t dare bear to wrench your lips open, to meet that dark glint in Gojo’s gaze. Hooded, such a slow, leering grin growing all over his face when the seconds tumble by. When your softened fingers falter around his length.
“Who was this for?” he’s echoing. “N’ no lying to your h-husband.”
“Toru-”
“Tell me, my pretty wife.”
“It was-” you’re mewling out, choking on your tiny confession when he slides his index solidly down the drippingly wet purse of your swollen pussy lips. Puffed-up and sensitive against where he was rubbing that cool metal ring against them. “-w-was for ngh- N-Naoya- but it was Dutchess Zenin that made me-”
Oh, but fuck - it didn’t matter who made you wear those sinful panties.
Because it’s only taking Gojo Satoru a split-second to crane his hot mouth downwards and bite down on the very hem of your saturated panties. Biting the edge of your skin only slightly - before just tearing the fabric off with his very teeth.
He takes a few seconds with his greedy gaze boring into yours, crazed. Canines bared glintingly around that tender lace, he just groans.
Eyes rolling to the back of his head before spitting it out - and kissing you like you’ve never been kissed before.
“H-hngh, Toru–” you’re moaning, your fingers half-cramping up with the way they were turning around his swollen cock. Swiveling around the heated bumps of his sensitive spots, the drag of your nails gently down his veins make him shiver. “Feels so- ah!”
And ah, for how much Gojo loved those saccharine sweet moans in your ear, how much he loved teasing you - he was hungry.
Shoveling all the way into your gummy channel, until your puffy pussy lips were kissing his very knuckles, gushing out in spurts of wet slick down his wrist. Twirling those cold digits, so stark against how toasty you were inside.
It made Gojo’s thickened tip twitch in your fingers, huffing out a humorless laugh when he was easily knocking against that bulbous bullseye of your g-spot. Pressing down. Hard.
“Mhm—” he’s purring, nosing down the tender crook of your neck. “Tell me how it feels- hngh- gotta tell me- fuck oh fuck don’ squeeze me like that- ah-”
He’s just wrenching out the most dripping squelches with each rummaging pump into your melty cunt, your walls were just molding around his digits. Sucking him back in like you’re trying to milk out something delicious- fuck, how he wished this was his achy cock right now, instead.
Gojo’s biting down hard at that magical spot on your neck, sending shocks of electricity down your sluttily arched spine. “Can’t- hah- can’t take it anymore- shit- needa be inside you soon. Needa fill ya up soon.”
And he didn’t even have to tell you - you could feel it.
Building up and up with every relentless such of his glistening fingers. Glossy.
“Need to make you mine-” he’s gasping, heatedly. Tone cracking on almost a bawl, his hips are fucking into your hand like his little cocksleeve, up all the way from weepy head down to thwack into his pulsing base. Fingers bumping messily into his taut, twitchy balls - making Gojo’s mouth water. “Need to- hngh- need to make you cum! Please-”
Tears crinkling at the very ends of his doe eyes, after every single crash along your sweet spot. Thorough wet glides. “Please please please-”
And it’s whispered over and over like a mantra when you’re cumming - again and again, so hard that you didn’t even realize you’re reaching your high before your tight pussy clamps around his fingers.
“Yeah- yeah yeah, cum all over my fingers.” He’s thrusting his fingers in and out so rabidly, hitting all your forbidden spots. Free hand pushing apart your quivering thighs even further, “Spread wide- heheh, yeahhh–”
Those sudden slurps sounded so thunderous in your ears, and your maw sags open deliriously in a higher-pitched ah! ah! ah! Grinding your hips down over and over in needy swivels, using him. Music to his ears, making his staggering erection just weep so dangerously- but he can’t cum.
Won’t cum just yet.
Not until he’s fucked you through each and every one of your peaks, not until your convulses are tapering out into nothing but tiny tingles.
And then he’s dragging out his ruined fingers from your sodden cunt - out, out, out. Snapping delicate strings of the mess he’s made of your poor pussy, before pushing them through his lips rawly.
“M-mmm-” he’s rumbling from the very depths of his broad chest, pecs heaving. And through your half-lucid gaze, you’re spying a silvery dribble of drool down the side of his lips. Moaning at the sweet, sweet taste. “Shit- shit, sweetheart-”
You can’t even react before he’s then spitting a steady stream of wispy saliva down to your sloppy hole, swirling it around with one of his thumbs.
“Better let her know m’coming back for seconds later.”
You whine all brattily, your hips arching into the perfect buck upwards - which only makes him grin. “Heh- my greedy girl, if I waited one hundred years ya can wait a few seconds.”
It’s so admonishing - and Gojo has never told a bigger lie.
Because he’s the one that’s so painfully impatient right now, angry cock spewing out a few more velvety waves of precum down your gleaming palm. A low string of profanity rips from his throat, and he’s just diving his hands around every inch of your body he could reach.
Deftly untangling those tedious ties at the back, “Damn these little- forgot how many ribbons I fuckin’- ordered-”
In split-seconds, you’re being flipped over with one fluid push of Gojo’s biceps, sinking your front into the royally soft mattress. You felt like you were in heaven.
“Toru–” you’re whirling your head over your shoulder to admire just how much his biceps flex. Twitching with each eager rip down your bodice. Shaky fingers tightening on the silken sheets, “H-hurry up-”
“Easy there, my love.”
It’s ragged, breathed hotly against your ear, and suddenly Gojo’s resting every bit of his body weight on top of yours to pin you down helplessly onto the bed. Holding your squirming hips captive onto one rough hand attached to them, “Arch jus’ a bite more- please- fuuuck like that yeah-”
He’s taking the opportunity to fling your wedding dress down easily, bunching it somewhere towards the corner of the bedroom - right alongside your bra and inner layers.
You’re gasping - stunned.
“Don’t l-look at me like that, I’ve had one hundred hah- years to practice this exact moment with my hand n’ imagination-”
And then Gojo’s gasping, he’s snapping his eyes open, he’s heaving out the most whiny call of your name when you push your hips back in a wet slide against his painfully hard cock.
Your folds smacking wetly against his shaft, dragging in a dripping trail along his veins - and shit, Gojo really underestimated how fucking hot you’d feel against his cock. How readily awaiting when his slender hips rut down in a furious push and pull. “This is long overdue.”
“Hey!” you jut your spit-sheen lower lip out when he’s rudely smacking away your hand from the clasp of your locket. “Wha’s that for?”
“Keep it on.” Gojo nips at your earlobe.
And then he’s spitting you open - he’s pushing in.
Inch by fucking inch of his swelteringly hot cock being shovelled into your gooey cunt, stretching out your snug walls to their limits. Pulled taut. Barely giving an apologetic kiss to the side of your head before Gojo’s circling one big beefy arm around your hips, easily tilting your entire body upwards for him to surge his hips even deeper.
He gasps, he shudders at the faintest of your wet clenches. “C’mon-c’mon c’mon c’mon- a-ah- you can take it please- please take it f’me.”
How could you not?
Because every one of his tiny, shallow grinds just to fit in have your mouth dropping further and further open cockdrunkenly.
“Please-” your hands fist at the plushy pillows, the headboards, craning behind at Gojo’s neck. “Fuck me h-harder, Toru- I can-”
“Ohhh- you play a hah- dangerous game.” He swipes away the stray hairs on your forehead, kissing at your sweat-slicked forehead. “My beautiful bride- my beautiful, beautiful bride - ah- almost makes me wanna m-make you more.”
Just that split-second of sultry shock is enough for Gojo to push in fully - all the way until your thighs sting with the sudden thwack! of his hefty, cum-filled balls, your folds kissing up against his thickened base.
He’s hissing when his achy, rounded tip recoils ever-so-slightly against the spongy mess of your cervix, hitting it relentlessly in harsh jackhammer. Spearheading his fat cock to massage up against all your sensitive spots in a more dizzying way than even his fingers could.
“Wh-what do you m-mean-” They’re falling from your mouth as hastily as Gojo can pump you stuffed full of his cock. Not even easing into it, starting up a sloppy cadence. “-b-by–”
“Awww, don’ hngh- p-push yourself, my love–” he’s simpering out. But oh his hips were speaking a completely different language from how soothing your husband’s tone was, one hand curling deftly around your throat to reel you in even harsher in sudden swats against his ever-pushing hips. Twirling around the chain of your locket, “What I mean is…”
Both of your half-lidded gazes are downturned to where he feels for that tiny nudge at about halfway down your stomach. Drawing an imaginary line about halfway through, before splaying down all five digits. Hard. “-that m’gonna make ya a pretty momma as well as my pretty wife.”
This little confession is followed by a particularly hard slam! from Gojo’s end, and you dart your hand out to grasp desperately onto the wooden headboard.
Crying out, “Is- is that even possible, Toru?”
But the only actual response that Gojo can give - that he thinks himself capable of giving right now, with how mind-numbingly your pretty pussy was milking any rationality out of him - is a breathless chuckle. His head throwing back with a whimper, brows knitting together. “I don’t know hah! Haven’t got a fuckin’ clue- but that doesn’t mean m’not gonna fucking try–”
And he was fucking you into the mattress just like it, well and fully intent on breeding your tight cunt. Jostling the locket at your chest with rough, reckless abandon. Every sodden drag down your slobbery walls having those dreams from a lifetime ago about your happily every after playing through his mind.
You, with your drooling pussy painted all white with his potent cum, making such a mess of him that he just has to do it all over again, of course.
You, all round and glowing - full of him, his heir.
You, looking up at him with those gorgeous eyes - another, tinier set held delicately in your hands. His hair, and your smile. Everything that he’s ever wanted in life and death.
Stupidly. Pussydrunkenly.
“Oh oh-” Gojo’s groaning, the sudden bump of your fingers against the sensitive curve of his balls making him jolt back into his reality. His heavenly, heavenly reality. “Aww, have I b-been neglecting you, my love?”
No, you want to scream - but you can’t.
Because he’s only hiking up a powerful thigh to pressurize his harrowing rams with even more power, and you could feel every flex and ripple of his washboard abs. The spatter of pearlescent beads of sweat setting in with fatigue.
But Gojo wouldn’t listen in the first place, couldn’t even think of anything that didn’t stem from his achy cock pummeling into you.
Messily, he’s swiping at those fingers of yours that were currently reaching for your angrily puffy clit, aching for more more more-
Giving a mean little smack onto where your sensitive nub was drenched in all your sweetened juices, it sends bolts of electricity all over your body. Clinging your gummy walls around his girth so tight.
“This what y-you wanted?” he rasps by your ear, drawing slow, determined circles on the very peak of your clit. And when that doesn’t have you crying out all prettily for him the way he wanted - Gojo just tugs. Unapologetically. “Tell me- ngh- tell me how it feels, fuck- can feel this cunt gettin’ so soaked-”
“Yes-” you’re sobbing out. Hips now aching with the burn of pushing back into his unrelenting hips - it hurts almost. The sting of his skin against you, the hard collision of his fat head against your cervix. But you want more. “Y-yes feels so good, Toru- need more hngh- need you t-to…”
“What?” he’s spitting. Wild. “Tell me, sweetheart- please- please-”
And, hell, Gojo Satoru wanted to hear so badly that he’s just slowing his hips down every so slightly to let you catch your breath. To answer.
But what he was actually blessed with was another one of your long, drawn-out whines. Grumbling ever-so-slightly as you jolt your hips back with every one of the thorough swivels of his fingers on your clit. Toying.
Fucking back harder than ever into his rock-hard dick, the locket just slams it’s cool branding onto the heated skin of your chest-
“Need you to f-fill me up-” you mutter wetly, nothing more than a few gurgles wrenched out when his clashing head French-kisses your g-spot. Drawing wet glides of his steamy precum down it. “-make me a hngh- m-momma, Toru-”
Oh, this might just be his third death ever.
Because the bed creaks riotously with every one of his ragged rams, in a way that made you glad for the ever-present music of this town.
Over and over.
“Yeah- shit, gonna make you a p-pretty momma-” he’s babbling away, a mile a minute. So sloppy that you’re barely able to understand what Gojo was saying. “Fill you- up- ngh- so they’ll look at you and see me. All me- all pretty and r-round- me me me- oh—”
Right now, Gojo didn’t give a fuck if his little dream was even possible. He didn’t give a fuck if his moans were turning into whimper, staggering thrusts trudging into the sloppiest of grinds. The neediest.
Because right now you were cumming.
That rapid throb of your clit increasing twofold when you’re finally plummeting into your high, wave after wave of pleasure that he fucks you through with heavy pound after pound.
Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, toes curling, flashes of white flitting behind your firmly shut eyes. Fuck, it felt so good.
And your fingers clench hard around where they were still firmly stationed on the headboard to keep at least an ounce of your sanity. Intertwining with- Gojo’s when he slams his hand down hard enough that the entire bed shudders.
Or maybe that was just him - because so was he.
“F-finally-” Gojo’s hiccuping, angling his head just right to be able to catch your pretty lips in what could barely be considered a kiss. Just a sloppy suck of your tongue while he pumps you snugly full of sloshing loads of his cum. “Wan’ed this for- so long- finally hngh- consummate- you- most beautiful ah momma-”
His whines were nonsensical at this point, only growing more and more so with each velvety ribbon of cum being poured around into your tight pussy. You could feel it swashing about your soft walls with every one of your hard, convulsing clenches, painting your insides over and over again in a second, sticky skin of his seed.
“Yeah- fuck fuck fuck, yeah Toru- hah- m-more-”
And just when Gojo thought the almost-painful clenches of his heavy balls were coming to a close, just when he thought his thick streams of voluminous cum were stretching out into thinner wisps - you have to go and say those syrupy sweet words.
Fuck.
He’s gasping, locking his finger with yours even harder on the headboard, “Gonna- ngh- gonna be the death of me I s-swear–”
Oh, and then you looked at him with that fucked-out smile of yours. A sight he’s gifted to see. Humming, “In life and in death, r-remember?”
Bang!
The headboard crashes down onto the floor. Your back is hitting the now utterly drenched sheet below you before the realization hits you.
In nothing but a split-second, Gojo pulls out his dangerously twitching cock to manhandle you flatly onto your back. Swiftly, he throws your legs over the curvaceous deltoids of his sculpted shoulder, easily bending you down, down, down into half.
Into the meanest mating press possible.
Dredges of thick, hot cum just ooze down your sopping slit, spreading in a milky circle underneath you. And slobbering down Gojo’s swollen hilt as soon as he plugs himself back in - immediately.
The very divot at the end of his cock quivering - for only a split-second before bursting out in streams of more and more cum. Overflowing. Overspilling out of you.
And he can’t help but glide an open palm over that tiny inflation beginning to form where he’d drawn a line just earlier. One hand pressing down on it hard, the other tweaking at your clit to make your walls clench.
“Oh f-fuck yeah–” Gojo stutters at the glossy coating of his own seed all around him. Reveling in the toasty feeling again and again until his poor, overworked cock can only sputter out wispy strings of nothing. Shooting blanks. “Gonna breed ya- make ya all round and and- ngh full until you c-can’t take anymore. Until we hahh- have that happy ending y-you wanted.”
You mewl when he’s licking away those glistening tears rolling down your cheeks, “-happy ending w-we wanted hngh- Toru–”
“Yeah-” he chuckles. Pecking at your lips with that salty sweet taste on his tongue, “We wanted. It’s why I didn’t reincarnate like you, my love, unfinished hngh- business here s’to spend a long, long and happy marriage with you, y’know?”
You bat your lashes in sweet disbelief, “That’s- that’s mine, too.”
Ah, he reels you in even closer into his arms. Snug. Ever-loving. Seemingly like he’d never let you go ever again - couldn’t bear to.
He nuzzles against that now-open locket, eyes peering down at those bleary paintings of you two, as loving as if they were taken just today. And in the back of his fried mind, he makes a note to take newer photos for later. Fingers tracing their familiar pathway to press down on the outer edges of the metal - in only the way he knew how, in the way that you should have been taught all those years ago, but was never able to.
“Then-” His eyes light up as they always did whenever it came to you, when the tiny mechanisms on the locket open up to reveal a delicate, gorgeous ring. Strangely matching his own. Gojo doesn’t think he’s done anything easier in his life when he slides that ring onto your finger, fitting so perfectly. Not even when he was waiting for you, not even when he’d taken care of Naoya in a way that left his coat spattered and stained with red. “-we’re both lucky.”
It’s only after a few soft, lingering kisses that Gojo finally pulls away - like it hurt to.
And it did, sensitive shockwaves erupting down his overwhelmed length. But none of that shows above his drunken grin when Gojo’s shuffling down the bed, all the way until his hot breath was puffing up feverishly against your sloppy cunt.
Messy. Drooling.
Making such an utter mess on his tongue when he lets it loll out, swiping up the gushing creamy dredges with a long lick. It was so filthy, dribbling down the sides of his mouth, onto his pinkish tongue-
Just a tease for more.
“Because I keep my promises, my wife.” his murmur wraps all around your thrumming clit. Tongue swirling a milky gloss all over his pert, raw lips. Only wanting more. Waiting. “In life and in death.”
A/N. THIS- THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE N’ GOT ME IN MY FEELSSSS. Hope y’all have a lovely lovely week <3
Plagiarism not authorized.
𑁤◞ it will be a double win situation for satoru, even if your child is his copy or yours like what difference does it make.
“ohh yeah, dear, now you have not one beautiful man, but two.”
or…
“i can’t believe, now i have not one beautiful girl, but two.”
mark being a big cuddle bug ugh and you cant help but give in because its honestly so worth it and he has a hand on your ass because he says “its comfy” and you hate to admit it, but it is. So with an iron grip on your cheek you both just fall asleep before a loud blaring alarm goes off
𝗝𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗹𝗲𝘁 𝗺𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀
・❥・ Mark is NOT getting that damn essay done
・❥・word count: 0.9k
・❥・warnings: so much fluff, some mentions of being a pervert, absolutely NOT beta read
・❥・Now why have none of my real life boyfriends been as cute as him??? Also love you anonnn!!!!
“I’m giving up.” Mark huffed in frustration, shutting his laptop and slumping into a small, sad, pile.
“How much do you have left?” You fought the urge to laugh at your beautiful boyfriend’s misfortune. You lay on the other side of the bed scrolling mindlessly on your phone. Despite his anguish, he looked handsome. A few strands of hair fell into his face messily and his white t-shirt suddenly seemed much tighter.
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
“Like one more page.” He dragged his hands down his face, stretching it cartoonishly. He rested his head on the headboard of his bed, his chest rose and fell as he took deep calming breaths.
“That’s not bad.” You crawl closer to him. You move the laptop off his lap, assuring it stays safely on the small bed. You cradle his face in your hands, his lips were pulled into a pout and his warm brown eyes trailed over your face like he was committing it to memory. “That’s like, home stretch.”
“No,” He whined. He was stuck between wanting to tear away from you dramatically or nuzzling himself further into your hold on his face, so he simply sighed loudly. “I ran out of things to say like five paragraphs ago. I can’t repeat everything for the third time.” You bite your lip to avoid cracking a smile at his dramatics.
“Oh no, whatever will my sweet boy do?”
“Don’t mock me! I need this to pull my grade up.” You roll your eyes. Maybe you would take him more seriously if he actually did his work when he said he would. “I’m gonna finish it.” He nods. “Get away from me, tease.” He pulls himself from your hold and grabs his laptop once again. With a shrug, you back away from him to return to your side of the bed. You barely made it an inch away before he grabbed onto your leg to keep you in place. You raise an eyebrow at his antics. He doesn’t say anything but you see him struggling to contain his smile.
You tug your leg back and curl up in your spot on the bed. For a while everything is peaceful. You scroll on your phone while Mark types away diligently. However, all good things come to an end. Before you even realized that Mark had shut his laptop he had grabbed onto you by the legs and tugged you closer to him. You yelped and curled a hand into his hair in surprise. “Mark!” You shrieked.
He wrapped his arms around your waist with a nonchalant smile, paying no mind to your hand in his hair or how your surprised yell was cut off by a fit of giggles. He pulled you into his lap and pressed you close to his chest with a heavy exhale. His warmth blanketed you and you felt yourself relax into him. You could feel the defined musculature beneath his loose shirt and it sent a pleasant shock through you.
“I thought you were finishing your essay?” You hummed, making no moves to get off of him and let him work.
“Shh, let me have this.” He whispers into your ear. He tucked his head into the crook of your neck, his warm breath fanned over your collarbone. Once again everything was peaceful, and once again Mark had to disturb the peace. His hand wandered further down your body until it rested itself on your ass.
“What are you doing?” You pull away just slightly to look at him. He shushes you again, his eyes shut.
“Sorry.” He murmured. Despite that he doesn’t move his hand an inch. If anything he tightens his grip.
“You aren’t sorry.” You huff. He nods and a small smile spreads on his face.
“I’m not. Just let me have this.” He repeats. “It’s comfy.” You narrow your eyes at him. His eyes are lidded and tired but he looks back at you with a playful expression.
“You’re a pervert.” You sigh as you lay back down on him. His muscles relax at your warm body on top of his.
“I know, I’m the worst.” He smiles into your hair. With one of his hands still gripping your cheek the other rubs soft circles into your back. You feel your breathing begin to even out as you lose yourself in the softness of the moment.
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
You weren’t sure how much time had passed since you had fallen asleep but you woke up in an entirely different position than you had fallen asleep. When your eyes opened you were on your back with Mark nuzzled into your chest. His arms were still around your waist while yours rested around his shoulders. Sunlight streamed in through the window, kissing your face and giving Mark’s almost jet-black hair a warm glow. You threaded your fingers through his hair. He had been working so hard, both as Mark Grayson and as Invincible, he needed rest.
Just as quickly as you had the thought it was interrupted. A loud, blaring alarm cut through the room, leaving you scrambling to find the source before Mark woke up. The source was, of course, Mark’s own phone.
Essay
His alarm read. You half smiled as you closed out of the alarm. Alas, it was too late.
“What was that?” He croaked.
“Your reminder to write your essay.” You laughed as you carded your fingers through his hair. He sighed loudly as he rolled off of you.
“I’m giving up.”
more fanart for @lespepsippr because ALLLL marks are yearners deep down and i love coming up with different hairstyles and hcs for their personalities with each of the readers.
i like to think mohawk mc learned which variant she was dealing with and said fuck that and dedicated her time in the invincible universe becoming an academic weapon instead (he noticed her anyway rest in peace)
Ovulation Station .ᐟ
𝜗𝜚: satoru, suguru, nanami, choso, hiromi, toji, sukuna
note: trying for a baby when you’re in your most fertile window, so you have to let them know asap! lowk went feral on toji’s…
warnings: cursing, sexual, ovulation, pregnancy, f!reader
I BLOCK MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS
YOU AND I TOGETHER, WON’T YOU HOLD ON TO ME — YUUTA OKKOTSU
cw mentions of children, pregnancy. so much of yuuta being happy and sappy :(( sorry i haven’t shutup about my little depressed lovesick boy making it out and living a full life. probably won’t anytime soon actually. satoru is alive and well in all my renditions of happily ever after and that won’t change either i fear
Yuuta talks about the future often. A future with you, and him, and your friends, and a family where you’re all together forever and he gets to love you until the end of time.
Sometimes, you think he doesn’t realize what he’s doing—dreaming about forever with you; but you can never find it in your heart to break his illusion. The boy who used to dread his next waking moment is dreaming and dreaming and dreaming, and making all of yours come true.
It’s quiet in this part of the Gojo compound. The gentle sounds of a stream running through the garden, and chirping of birds are the only noises that disrupt your daydreams.
Or, perhaps, fuel them.
“I hope our kids aren’t afraid of birds,” Yuuta muses, wide eyes looking past your face up to the tall trees, full of happily singing bluebirds, “There’s so many of them here.”
You’re gentle when you stroke his hair, taking advantage of his head in your lap to pull the longer pieces out of his eyes.
Your smile is giddy, unfiltered. “Kids? Plural?”
Yuuta hums with smile. His eyes remain on the sky, chasing a pair of birds that flitter between long branches.
“Yeah. At least two, so they don’t get lonely,” he says, “They’ll have us, and their cousins, and sensei, and our friends, but they’re going to need each other at home.”
Yuuta lets his eyes fall to you at the end of his sentence, a sparkling smile on his scarred lips.
“I see,” you smile, “At least two so they can be friends.”
“Best friends,” he revises your statement, “So they can train together, too, if they want to be sorcerers. Or not. It’s fine, either way.” He blinks, eyes warm, “I hear that four is the happy medium for a family, but I think three is going to be easier inheritance wise, if sensei is serious about making me clan head someday.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah, but if a fourth comes along, I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”
“I’m sure sensei will have made more than enough money for them by then.”
Yuuta giggles, earnestly in your arms at that. “Of course he will.”
You pause for a moment, committing his laugh to memory. His features flush slightly under your gaze, and you lean down to kiss his scarred forehead. You let your hands resume petting his hair, following in his gaze to look up at the birds.
“Tell me more about them.”
Yuuta doesn’t waste a moment, closing his eyes; letting you paint the picture in the sky for yourself as he talks.
“The gap between the oldest and youngest is six or seven years. I think five might be enough, though. So, that means our middle one is about three when our littlest comes along.”
“Unless a fourth happens.”
Yuuta hums in agreement. “Unless a fourth happens. But we’ll have time.”
You’ll have time, you nod. You have time now, you and him; all the time in the world.
“A three year old and newborn sounds like a lot of work.”
“Maybe. But we’ll also have a seven year old. He’s going to want to help with the baby, so we’ll have an extra hand,” Yuuta says, “And that’s not even counting sensei and the rest.”
“He?”
“I think he’ll be a boy, the oldest. He might look like me, but he’ll act like you, so he’s going to be Kugisaki’s favorite.”
You find yourself choking out a genuine cackle at that. When you look down, Yuuta’s got a smile wider than yours.
“He sounds wonderful. Like his father,” you confess, “But the idea of pregnancy thrice in a seven year span sounds exhausting.”
“We can use surrogates. Or adopt. Or whatever,” Yuuta tells you, “Gojo-sensei will help us figure it out if we need help.”
You have no doubt about that. And now, when you look back up to the sky, you can see vignettes of Gojo-sensei with your your seven year old on his shoulders, your middle child on his hip, and the baby gnawing at his legs.
And then Yuuji is skipping into the scene, cooing at the youngest, picking him up and consoling him effortlessly. He carries the baby over to a crib with another crying newborn that looks eerily like Megumi, whose green eyes go wide at the stranger, then smile gummy as both babies reach for each other.
Maki is there too, tapping your eldest on the shoulder with her staff and pretending not to have done it. Nobara holds up a shirt to the middle child, brassy in questioning Gojo why she told her that the baby would fit in this size that’s obviously too big, meanwhile the toddler ignores them both, fascinated with the marks on Toge’s cheeks as he plays peek-a-boo.
It’s not hard to imagine. The scenes in your head aren’t wild fantasies or unattainable dreams—not anymore.
“You want a big family.”
Yuuta nods, reaching for your hand and pulling it away from his hair, and to his lips. “We have the resources for it now. Not just financially—we have time, and lots of friends, and lots of love.”
Yuuta presses a kiss to the back of your hand, and you smile. He’s right, there’s more than enough love to go around.
-
wenameshininasama liked this · 2 months ago -
hinasxvii liked this · 2 months ago -
fastleopard1521 liked this · 2 months ago -
coffee-and-dream liked this · 2 months ago -
raspberryapplesauce liked this · 2 months ago -
hvrrican3 liked this · 2 months ago -
whynot-angel liked this · 2 months ago -
fgg2o23 liked this · 2 months ago -
chigirims liked this · 2 months ago -
telemachussbeloved liked this · 2 months ago -
sunnylyly liked this · 2 months ago -
lucathy4life liked this · 2 months ago -
kiki356456 liked this · 2 months ago -
valiantmilkshakecycle liked this · 3 months ago -
andreasaintmleux76 liked this · 3 months ago -
meeeows liked this · 3 months ago -
faltaterapia liked this · 3 months ago -
bre99 liked this · 3 months ago -
cafe-elysium liked this · 3 months ago -
thegermanlovewar reblogged this · 3 months ago -
pinkcherrytea liked this · 3 months ago -
scrappybear89 liked this · 3 months ago -
definitelyahuman15 liked this · 3 months ago -
crazymar15 liked this · 3 months ago -
angiewolf09 liked this · 3 months ago -
justheretoreadwellwrittenfanfics liked this · 3 months ago -
azriels-wifey reblogged this · 3 months ago -
brendaxau liked this · 3 months ago -
lalana3ooo liked this · 3 months ago
-
mc-the-coolest liked this · 3 months ago -
dumb-errors-blog liked this · 4 months ago -
zoeladyprincess liked this · 4 months ago
-
babybabsbbq liked this · 4 months ago -
mousedit reblogged this · 4 months ago -
lacunaanonymoused liked this · 4 months ago -
stories-and-incorrect-quotes liked this · 4 months ago -
shelbyc-72 liked this · 4 months ago -
kaizuhako liked this · 4 months ago -
itsamyrose liked this · 4 months ago -
coffeelover241 liked this · 4 months ago -
fvckcare liked this · 4 months ago -
apollo-thesun liked this · 4 months ago -
kattys-corner liked this · 4 months ago -
kei111kei liked this · 4 months ago -
endjdjssh liked this · 4 months ago -
jasmine228 liked this · 4 months ago
-
lilei18 liked this · 4 months ago -
supergeek13 liked this · 4 months ago -
raimenshko liked this · 4 months ago
