#all but impossible to find even in images

[lostfracturess]

traces of yesterday's scars — satoru gojo

they say the strongest sorcerer can't be broken. but as your fingers trace the scar that once split him in two, you find that even satoru gojo has his sensitive spots.

You still dream about the moment Satoru was cut in half, the memory haunting you even now—that clean, horizontal slice that had split him perfectly in two, tearing your world apart just as surely as it had torn through him.

Sometimes you wake gasping, the image still vivid behind your eyes.

Now, months later, you lay with your head on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. Your fingers trace the scar that runs across his abdomen, the raised line a constant reminder of how close you came to losing him.

The skin here feels different, rough and uneven and so unlike his other scars. Because this scar tells a different story—one of how death had almost claimed him, how he had nearly been taken from you for good.

You feel him tense slightly as your fingers brush over it, catching the small sharp intake of breath he tries to hide.

"Still hurts?" you ask softly.

"Not hurt exactly," he says, trying to play it casual despite the way his muscles twitch under your fingertips. "More like... muscle memory. Like my body hasn't forgotten what it felt like to be in two pieces."

You follow the scar's path across his abdomen, perfectly straight like a ruler's edge. The mark extends to both sides, wrapping around to his back—evidence of how completely he was severed. Your throat tightens at the memory.

"Hey," he catches your wrist when he notices your fingers have stilled on his scar, trembling slightly against his skin. "I'm right here. Still in one piece, see?"

He tries for levity, but you can't shake the image of him split open, of those endless seconds when everyone thought—

Before that thought can fully form, Satoru moves with that impossible speed of his. One moment you're lying on his chest, the next you're on your back, pressed into the mattress with him hovering above you.

His white hair falls forward, framing his face as he looks down at you with those striking blue eyes. The scar catches the dim light, a silver line across his torso that makes your throat tight.

"Stop that," he says softly, pinning your hands beside your head. "I can hear you thinking too hard about it."

"You were cut in half, Satoru," you say quietly. "That's not exactly an easy image to forget."

"And yet here I am," he cuts you off, pressing his forehead to yours. One hand releases your wrist to guide your palm to his chest, letting you feel the strong, steady beat of his heart. "Feel that? Still beating. Still whole. Still yours." His voice drops lower. "I could never leave you. Not even being split in half could keep me away."

He kisses you then, soft and bittersweet at first, before deepening into something more intense. His lips move against yours with a tenderness that makes your heart ache, each press and slide a promise sealed into your skin.

He kisses you like he's trying to prove something, like he's pouring all his certainty and love into this one moment until the scar becomes just another story written on his skin, not an ending but proof that he always finds his way back to you.

His hand cradles the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he draws out the kiss until you're both breathless with it.

"Besides," he murmurs against your lips, that familiar boyish glint returning to his eyes, "being cut in half just means there's twice as much of me to love now."

Before you can groan at his terrible joke, he moves again and pulls you flush against him as he rolls, and suddenly you're on top of him, straddling his waist. His hands settle on your hips, thumbs brushing the bare skin where your shirt has ridden up.

"See?" His grin is absolutely insufferable now. "Still strong enough to manhandle you around."

"You're stupid," you say, but you can't help smiling as your hands splay across his chest, feeling his laughter rumble beneath your palms.

"Stupidly in love with you," he counters, pulling you down for another kiss. His hands slide up your back, holding you close as if to prove his point about his strength remaining unchanged.

The scar moves under your touch as he breathes, but now it feels less like a reminder of what you almost lost and more like proof of what you still have—his heart beating steady and strong, his arms around you, his smile pressed against your skin.

"I love you," you say against his lips, "even when you make terrible jokes about being cut in half."

"Especially then," he says, and you can feel his smile widening. His hands grow more bold as they trail down your sides, and you can feel his breath quickening beneath you.

"You know," he murmurs against your lips, "we should probably make sure everything's still working properly—" His fingers slip under the hem of your shirt, skating across your skin. "If you're up for round two?"

In one fluid motion, he sits up, keeping you firmly in his lap as his arms wrap around your waist. His lips find your neck, trailing hot kisses along the sensitive skin there.

"Just to be thorough," you manage to say, though the words come out shakier than intended as his teeth graze over your skin. And he only pulls you closer in return.

"So thorough," he breathes against your neck, one hand sliding up your back while the other grips your hip. "Need to make sure everything's in working order." His voice drops lower, rougher, as his kisses become more heated. "Every—" Kiss. "Single—" Kiss. "Part."

Your fingers thread through his hair as he continues to map every sensitive spot he knows drives you crazy, making you arch against him. His touch erases all thoughts of scars and fears, replacing them with the burning need to be closer.

And when he finally claims you, his movements leave no doubt about how very alive he is—each deep thrust and possessive grip reminding you that he's here, he's whole, he's yours.

The scar may still tell its story of how close you came to losing him, but tonight is about proving just how completely you still have him—all of him, in every way that matters.

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.

[diamonddaze01]

second servings

pairing: mingyu x afab!reader genre: smut, fluff, a dash of humor bc im fun like that | wc: 3.7k Warnings: unprotected sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT), drinking rating: r a/n: happy thanksgiving! or as ivy (my beloved @c-oupsie ) aptly put it, dicksgiving // huge thank you to @lovetaroandtaemin for the beta!!! //MINORS DNI

It’s safe to say that this Thanksgiving has been a rousing success.

Your mother had nothing but praise for the way you pulled off her famous sweet potato casserole (even though she was hovering behind you the entire time, making "suggestions"), and your father was borderline drunk on Mingyu’s whiskey-infused turkey. Sure, he’d proudly claimed it was an old family recipe, but you’d seen him frantically Googling “best Thanksgiving turkey recipes” at 2 a.m. the night before. No harm, no foul—especially since your parents didn’t need to know about his panic or how the entire kitchen had nearly gone up in flames during the basting process.

For his part, Mingyu had charmed everyone effortlessly. Between pulling your chair out at dinner, teasing your father about how he could totally outdrink him (a dangerous game, considering how much whiskey had been consumed), and sheepishly admitting he’d practiced making pie crust for weeks, it was clear your parents were absolutely smitten with your boyfriend. By the time your mom hugged you both goodbye at the door, whispering that you’d “picked a good one,” you thought your heart might burst with pride.

But now, the house is quiet. The only sounds are the low hum of the dishwasher and the occasional creak of the floorboards as you wander through the dining room, stacking dishes and tidying up. The scent of roasted herbs and pumpkin pie still lingers in the air, but you’re already beginning to unwind.

Mingyu is... well, not unwinding. Not in the slightest. You can hear him singing—no, yelling—off-key in the kitchen as he polishes off the last of the whiskey your dad left behind. When you poke your head in to scold him for leaving you to do all the cleaning, you find him leaning against the counter, a lazy, lopsided grin lighting up his face. His tie is loose, and the top buttons of his shirt have been undone, showing off that smooth stretch of skin you always find it impossible to resist.

“You’re wasted,” you accuse, trying not to smile at how disheveled he looks.

“Wasted?” he echoes, incredulous, though the way he wobbles slightly when he stands says otherwise. “Nah, baby, I’m just... grateful. It’s Thanksgiving! And I’m thankful for you.” He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close, his nose nuzzling your temple. His voice drops, low and teasing. “And the way you look in this dress... God, how did I keep my hands to myself all night?”

You roll your eyes, even as your heart stutters in your chest. “Because my parents were right there, and you were busy trying to impress them?”

Mingyu hums, the sound reverberating against your skin. “Impressed them so much they probably think I’m an angel, huh?” His fingers press lightly against the small of your back, pulling you closer until you can feel the warmth of his breath against your ear. “Guess I shouldn’t ruin that image.”

When you laugh, the sound barely leaves your lips before he has you pinned against the nearest wall. Your shriek of surprise is muffled by Mingyu’s mouth on yours, warm and insistent, tasting faintly of whiskey and the pumpkin pie he’d wolfed down before your parents left. His hands bracket your waist, firm and steady, but there’s nothing restrained about the way he presses into you.

“Shhh,” he murmurs against your lips when you try to protest, his voice dark and teasing. “Can’t let them know their soon-to-be son-in-law isn’t the perfect golden boy they think he is.”

Your laugh bubbles up despite yourself, but you manage to shove at his chest just enough to put some space between you. “Mingyu, stop! There are dishes everywhere—”

“Don’t care,” he growls, already pulling you back toward him.

“Mingyu!”

He only grins as you slip out of his grasp, retreating into the dining room, muttering about someone needing to be responsible. But he’s not far behind. You feel his presence before you even hear him—the deliberate slowness of his footsteps, the quiet huff of his breath as he watches you stack plates.

You turn to scold him, but the words catch in your throat the moment you see his expression. His pupils are blown wide, gaze dark and intent, like he’s just barely holding himself back.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you say, a little breathless.

He takes a step closer.

“Like what?”

“Like—like you’re going to—”

Mingyu doesn’t let you finish. In one swift motion, he’s at your side, spinning you around and lifting you effortlessly onto the dining table. Plates clatter around you, some teetering dangerously close to the edge as you gasp in shock.

“Wait,” he says suddenly, holding up a hand. His gaze flicks to the plates beneath you, then back to your face. “Are these gonna break if I—”

You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep your composure. “If you what?”

He flashes you a devilish grin, and before you can stop him, he swipes an arm across the table, sending the rest of the dishes clattering to the floor.

“Mingyu!” you gasp, clutching his shirt as you gape at the mess.

“It’s fine,” he says, far too casually for someone who’s just created a potential disaster. His voice is rough, his breath coming quick as he leans in close, pressing you back against the table. “They’re not ceramic. They won’t break.”

Your protest dies on your lips as his mouth finds yours again, hands already working to undo the buttons of your dress. The table creaks beneath you as he presses his weight into you, his kisses growing more heated, more desperate with every passing second.

“You’re insane,” you murmur against his lips, though your fingers are already threading through his hair, tugging lightly just the way you know he likes.

“Maybe,” he admits, his grin unmistakable even as his lips move to your jaw, trailing kisses down the column of your neck. “But you’re stuck with me now.”

“Not if I kill you for breaking half our dishes,” you tease, though the sharp intake of breath you can’t quite suppress gives you away.

“Then you’ll have to explain to your parents why their perfect golden boy is gone,” he counters, his voice a low rumble against your skin.

"And we can't have that, can we?" you murmur, tilting your head to give him better access.

Mingyu chuckles, the sound vibrating against your throat. "Definitely not. I've worked too hard to impress them."

His hands slide down your sides, bunching up the fabric of your dress as they go. You shiver at the feeling of his fingers against your bare thighs, your skin prickling with goosebumps. Mingyu's touch is warm, his fingers leaving trails of heat in their wake.

"Speaking of impressing," you say, trying to keep your voice steady as his touch wanders higher, "I can't believe you actually learned to make pie crust."

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dancing with mischief. "Oh, that? I lied. I bought it pre-made."

You gasp in mock outrage. "You fraud!"

"Hey, your mom loves me,” Mingyu bites the junction where your shoulder meets your neck, just enough to hurt, and you whine. “You can’t call me a fraud when her love is real, baby.” His tongue carves a path back up to your mouth.

"Oh, shut up," you laugh, tugging him closer by his loosened tie.

Mingyu chuckles, the sound vibrating against your neck as he continues his trail of kisses.

"You know," he murmurs, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze, "I wasn't lying earlier. About being grateful for you."

The sincerity in his eyes catches you off guard, making your breath hitch. Even with his hair mussed and his shirt half-unbuttoned, there's an earnestness to him that makes your heart swell. But then he kneels in front of you, and your heart starts to stutter.

“And what better way to show you how…grateful I am,” he starts, fingers brushing against the wet spot on your panties, so soft it makes you gasp. “Than to kneel in front of you?”

His words make your back arch, shivers running down your spine. He hums softly, fingers brushing the edge of your panties. 

“My baby’s so pretty,” he breathes, pressing open-mouthed kisses against thighs as you shiver. 

"Mingyu," you gasp, your fingers tightening in his hair as he slowly drags your panties down your legs. The cool air hits your heated skin, making you shiver.

He looks up at you through his lashes, a wicked grin playing at his lips. "Yes, baby?"

You open your mouth to respond, but all that comes out is a breathy moan as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, dangerously close to where you need him most. Your hips buck involuntarily, seeking more contact.

Mingyu chuckles, the sound low and rough. "So eager," he murmurs against your skin. "But I want to savor this. Show you just how thankful I am."

His tongue traces lazy patterns on your thigh, inching closer and closer to your center with each pass. You squirm on the table, plates clattering softly around you as you try to press closer to his mouth. But Mingyu's hands on your hips hold you firmly in place.

"Patience," he whispers, his breath hot against your sensitive skin.

You whimper, fingers tightening in his hair. "Mingyu, please..."

He looks up at you, eyes dark with desire. "Please what?"

"Touch me," you breathe. "I need you to—"

Your words dissolve into a gasp as Mingyu finally, finally presses his mouth against you. His tongue moves in slow, deliberate strokes, teasing and exploring. You throw your head back, a low moan escaping your lips as pleasure courses through you.

Mingyu hums against you, the vibration sending shockwaves of sensation up your spine. His hands slide from your hips to your thighs, gently urging them further apart. You comply eagerly, desperate for more of his touch. Mingyu takes advantage of the new angle, his tongue delving deeper, circling your clit with practiced precision.

"God, you taste amazing," he murmurs against you, the words sending vibrations through your core. “Better than my pie, baby.”

You can't help the breathy moan that escapes you, your hips rolling against his face as you chase the building pleasure. Mingyu matches your rhythm, alternating between broad strokes of his tongue and focused attention on your sensitive clit.

"Mingyu," you gasp, tugging at his hair. "I'm close, I'm—"

Your words trail off into a strangled moan as Mingyu redoubles his efforts, his tongue working faster, more insistently against you. One of his hands leaves your thigh, and you feel his fingers teasing at your sopping entrance before slowly sliding inside. The dual sensation of his tongue on your clit and his fingers curling inside you makes you arch against the table, fingers finding purchase on the tablecloth and holding on for dear life.

"That's it, baby," Mingyu murmurs against you, his voice rough with desire. "Let go for me. Show me how good I make you feel."

His words, combined with the relentless attention of his mouth and fingers, push you over the edge. Your back arches off the table as waves of pleasure crash over you, Mingyu's name falling from your lips in a breathless cry. He works you through your orgasm, his movements slowing gradually as your body relaxes.

When the last tremors of pleasure subside, Mingyu presses a final, gentle kiss to your inner thigh before standing up. His hair is a mess from your fingers, his lips swollen and glistening. The sight of him looking so thoroughly debauched makes your heart race all over again.

"Come here," you murmur, reaching for him.

"You're beautiful," he murmurs, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and it sends a renewed spark of arousal through you. His hand finds yours, interlacing your fingers on the thoroughly christened tablecloth. You bring your joined hands to your mouth and suck on his fingers as Mingyu looks on in dazed fascination.

Mingyu groans, his eyes darkening with renewed desire. "God, you're gonna be the death of me," he murmurs, voice rough with want.

You release his fingers with a soft pop, a mischievous smile playing at your lips. "I thought you were showing me how thankful you were," you tease, running your free hand down his chest. "Seems like you might have more gratitude to express, love."

His answering grin is downright predatory. "Oh, I'm just getting started, baby," he growls, leaning in to nip at your earlobe. "I've got all night to show you exactly how thankful I am." Without warning, his fingers find your sopping cunt again, and you squeal.

Two, then three, fingers bully their way into your weeping pussy, and you groan, wanton, as Mingyu’s free hand yanks the sleeves of your dress off your shoulder.

“Don’t-” your words are cut off with a keen when Mingyu’s fingers go even deeper, back arching off the table. “Don’t rip my dress Mingyu-ah! There! Right there- don’t stop, please please-”

Mingyu chuckles darkly, his breath hot against your neck as he continues to work his fingers inside you. "Wouldn't dream of ripping this dress, baby. I love how you look in it too much." His teeth graze your collarbone, sending shivers down your spine. You're caught between the pleasure of his fingers and the slight pain of his teeth, overwhelmed by sensation.

"Fuck, baby," he groans against your skin. "You're so wet for me. So tight."

You can only whimper in response, your hips rocking against his hand as you chase another peak. The table creaks beneath you, the remaining dishes clattering with each thrust of Mingyu's fingers.

"That's it," he encourages, his voice low and husky. "Take what you need. Take it all, baby."

His thumb finds your clit, circling it in time with the thrusts of his fingers. You cry out, hips bucking off the table. Mingyu's free hand slides up to cup your breast through the fabric of your dress, his thumb brushing over your nipple.

"Oh god," you moan, your head falling back against the table, hands gripping his bicep. You’re not sure if you’re trying to push him away or pull him closer. "Mingyu, I'm gonna—"

"Come for me," he growls, curling his fingers inside you. "Let me feel you, baby."

Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body arching off the table as you cry out Mingyu's name. He works you through it, his fingers slowing but not stopping as aftershocks ripple through you.

When you finally come down, panting and boneless, Mingyu withdraws his hand and brings his glistening fingers to his mouth. He sucks them clean, his eyes locked on yours; you moan, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. Your fingers grapple helplessly with the buttons. He lets you struggle for a little, forehead pressed against yours as his deft fingers work to push your dress off of you, leaving you bare before him on the dining room table. The cool air pebbles your skin, but Mingyu's heated gaze makes you feel like you're on fire.

"You’re delicious," he murmurs, a wicked grin playing at his lips. "But I'm not done with you yet."

He decides to put you out of your misery, pushing away to roughly yank his shirt off and throw it across the room. His hands yank at his belt, and his pants and boxers follow soon after, joining his shirt god knows where. Your eyes rake over Mingyu's exposed body, drinking in the sight of his toned chest and abs. Your gaze travels lower, lingering on his erect cock, already glistening with precum. The sight makes your mouth water, and you unconsciously lick your lips.

Mingyu catches the gesture and smirks. "See something you like, baby?"

You nod, unable to form words as he steps closer, his hands running up your thighs. He positions himself between your legs, the tip of his cock brushing against your sensitive folds. You whimper at the contact, your hips jerking involuntarily.

"Tell me what you want," Mingyu murmurs, his voice low and husky. He rocks his hips slightly, teasing you with just the barest hint of pressure.

"You," you breathe, reaching for him. "I want you, Mingyu. Don’t make me beg.”

"Never, baby," he growls, voice rough with desire. "I want you too much."

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "Then take me," you breathe, nails raking down his back.

Mingyu doesn't need to be told twice. With one smooth thrust, he buries himself inside you, both of you groaning at the sensation. He stills for a moment, forehead pressed against yours as you adjust to his size.

"Fuck, baby," he pants, his arms trembling slightly as he holds himself above you. "You feel so good."

You roll your hips experimentally, drawing a strangled moan from Mingyu. "Move," you urge. Mingyu obeys, pulling out almost entirely before slamming back in. The force of his thrust sends a few more plates clattering to the floor, but neither of you pay them any mind. Your focus narrows to the feeling of Mingyu moving inside you, the delicious friction as he sets a punishing pace.

"God, yes," you moan, your nails digging into his shoulders. "Just like that, Mingyu."

He grunts in response, his hips snapping against yours with increasing urgency. One hand grips your hip, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, while the other braces against the table. The wood creaks beneath you with each thrust, but you can barely hear it over the sound of skin slapping against skin and your mingled moans. He whines, burying his face in your neck as he drives into you relentlessly.

"You're so fucking tight," Mingyu groans, his voice strained. "So perfect for me, baby. Only for me."

His words send a fresh wave of heat through you, your walls clenching around him. Mingyu groans, his hips stuttering for a moment before he redoubles his efforts. He shifts slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts, and suddenly he's hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars. He lifts his head to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans as he drives into you.

"Oh god," you cry out, your back arching off the table. "Right there, Mingyu. Don't stop!"

"Fuck," he grunts, his movements becoming more erratic. "I'm close, baby. So close."

You can feel your own orgasm building, a coiling tension in your lower belly. "Me too," you pant, your fingers tangling in his hair. "Mingyu, please."

Mingyu knows you like the back of his hand, knows exactly what you need to send you over the edge - his hand leaves your hip, sliding between your bodies to rub rough circles against your clit with his thumb. Mingyu shifts slightly, hitting that spot that convinces you that you’re in heaven - your mouth drops open in a low whine, and he savors every reaction you give him.

Your entire body tenses as the pleasure makes spots dance in your vision. Mingyu's movements grow more frantic, his breathing ragged against your neck.

"Come for me," he growls, his thumb pressing harder against your clit. "Let go, baby. I've got you."

His words are the final push you need. Your orgasm crashes over you in waves, your back arching off the table as you cry out Mingyu's name. Your walls clench around him, pulling him deeper.

The sensation of you pulsing around him pushes Mingyu over the edge. He buries himself deep inside you with a final thrust, groaning your name as he comes.

For a long moment, you both stay like that, panting and trembling in the aftermath. The table creaks again, as Mingyu presses loving kisses against your lips, hands rubbing gentle circles on your sides.

“I love you,” he whispers, equal parts adoring and reverent. “I’m so grateful to have you in my life.”

He sounds so genuine, so lovelorn, that it almost brings tears to your eyes. “I love you too,” you breathe, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him close. “I’ll never stop thanking fate for bringing you to me.”

“It wasn’t fate,” he grumbles half-heartedly. “It was your shitty cocktails that almost gave me alcohol poisoning at Jeonghan’s graduation party.”

You sigh, pulling back enough to stick your tongue out at him. “And just when I was starting to wax poetic about you, Kim Mingyu.”

“Oh, by all means, continue-”

The table decides then that it has had enough of the both of you, and the leg gives out with a deafening splinter. The sudden tilt of the table sends you both sliding towards the floor in an undignified heap. Mingyu manages to catch you, cushioning your fall with his body as you land on top of him with a soft "oof." For a moment, you both lie there in stunned silence, the broken table leg jutting out at an awkward angle beside you.

Then, almost simultaneously, you burst into laughter.

Mingyu joins in, his body shaking with mirth against yours. "Oh my god," he wheezes, lifting himself up on his elbows to look at you. "Are you okay?"

You nod, still giggling. "I'm fine. You?"

"Never better," he grins, pressing a quick kiss to your nose. "Although I think we might need a new dining table."

You groan, finally taking in the full extent of the damage. Plates litter the floor, and your poor tablecloth lies in a heap near Mingyu’s feet.

"Oh no," you moan, burying your face in Mingyu's chest. "My parents gave us that table as a housewarming gift."

Mingyu winces, his hand coming up to stroke your hair soothingly. "We'll figure something out. Maybe we can fix it?"

You lift your head to give him a skeptical look. "Fix it? Mingyu, the leg is completely broken off."

He shrugs, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Hey, I managed to convince your parents I'm a master pie baker. I'm sure I can convince them I'm an expert carpenter too."

You can't help but laugh, swatting his chest playfully. "You're ridiculous."

"But you love me," he grins, pulling you down for a kiss.

"God help me, I do," you murmur against his lips.

[ladies-of-fortune]

Becoming "that girl" and the trap of materialism

Work on your inner self before making any external changes.

It's easy to believe that the next new thing you acquire, whether that be clothes, beauty procedures etc will be the thing to solve all your problems in life. But, it probably won't. All it will be is a drain on your resources and you will still be insecure, just with more stuff. This is not to say you can't buy those things, but to be mindful of the reason why you're buying them. Do you actually want it? Or have you been led to believe you want it, by marketing, social media or what other people are doing?

Even if you don't necessarily like what you see in the mirror, it's important to have love for yourself regardless. At the end of the day, all our bodies are is a vessel for us to inhabit. Despite our best efforts, we are not always going to be looking 100% because life constantly throws stuff at us. There will be times we are so busy we don't eat as well as we should, or stress may impact our appearance through weight gain, acne or bloating. If we go seeking validation for this vessel from the outer world, we make ourselves vulnerable to attracting bad people/energy into our lives. If we are mentally in tune with ourselves, this reflects into our outer appearance and we cannot be shaken by external influences.

You can love yourself and think you'd look objectively better with a certain procedure or a different weight. You can love yourself and want to be different than the person you are currently. A desire for improvement that stems from your love of self is stable and patient. This is important because real change doesn't happen overnight. If you lack this self love, you cannot be objective about yourself and will end up in a never-ending series of 'quick-fix' changes in the impossible pursuit of perfection that will leave you worse off in the long run.

Things you can do to develop your inner state:

Shadow work - Your unresolved tensions from past events will repeat themselves until you address them.

Read/listen to podcasts about things that interest you - Don't you love seeing the way a person's face lights up when they talk about something they find fascinating?

Reducing your social media time - Social media is fake, everyone is just projecting the image they want to project and you have no clue what's truly going on in their lives. Take part but be mindful of this.

Practice gratitude and kindness everyday - To yourself and others. Thing about the simple routines in your daily life, how lucky are you to be able to partake in them? Someone's being a bit rude to you? It's nothing to do with you and everything to do with how they show up in the world, so don't take it personally. A bad personality makes a person look ugly, no matter how attractive their appearance is.

Exercise - It does wonders for mental health. Start small and work your way up. It can be as simple as taking a walk outside or following a YouTube video. Even if you give up halfway, you still showed up and gave something. Something is always better than zero.

Change your diet - Our mental state is impacted by the things we choose to put inside ourselves. If you're eating ultra processed foods like McDonalds, Doritos etc on the daily you could probably feel better than you currently do. You don't have to go crazy and cut everything cold turkey (you'll more than likely relapse), work on making small swaps for healthier versions of the things you like for a sustainable, long-term approach.

[acupofinkedblood]

Medkit x reader

TW: Mention of blood

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

• When Medkit left Blackrock, the one thing on his mind in that moment was to survive. Purely just that. The adrenaline rush had gotten the best of him, granted him the ability to run across the merciless snow of Blackrock without feeling tired. His emotions were drowned in determination to flee this place for once and for all. Blood from his empty eye socket kept dripping down, yet Medkit refused to live any trails behind as he covered it up by his hand

• The rest was a blurry mess. He couldn’t remember how far he had run or where did he end up at. The next thing he knows when he wakes up, Medkit immediately get rid of his uniform and deal with that empty socket of his by the only way in his mind: Sew it up. Please don’t ask where did he find the needle and thread, it’s not something pleasant to hear

• And the rest is history. He flees Blackrock and never looks back. Tired of living with a target on his skull, just in time as the Broker finds him and introduces him to the Family in exchange of protection, Medkit starts to do whatever it takes to survive

• Yet sometimes, his memory shifts elsewhere when he is alone with nothing but his cigarette to occupy his mind. In this case, it’s you

• The co-worker he has been pining over for quite a while, it’s you. Aside from a certain bastard that never failed to make him grimace ever now and then with high possibility of having his day ruined, you’re like a fresh air that shoo away all of the toxins around him. Your calm attitude makes his shoulder less tensed as he finds himself relaxed around you

• As much as he’d love to spend more times with you, his workload made it impossible for him to take a breather. Not to mention whenever he had his times to look for you, Subspace had already dragged you away to entertain his endless narcissistic rambling again. Medkit wouldn’t lie, he was jealous before. Yet he couldn’t really do anything

• He decided to savor the moment with you at any given chance to make up for the lack of time you two spent together. But he felt like his feelings were one-sided. Even when you didn’t say anything obvious about it, the bubble of insecurity when it came to you just exist inside him

• Medkit just hopelessly wished that you will understand his feelings one day. Or at the very least, he wanted to be by your side more often

• Yet when he ran away from Blackrock, his determination to escape has completely blocked out your image. Whenever Medkit thinks about it, he silently curses himself. He knows that he was selfish in that moment, he just can’t help it. But is leaving you back is a wise decision? Definitely not. Medkit is worried about your well-being

• His mind is disturbed with every single possibilities of ‘what if’ - What happens if he takes you with him? What happens if he finds you first instead of running away? He misses you. He knows he doesn’t have the audacity to do so anymore after he has left you because of his cowardice, yet he just can’t help it

• If he is given a chance to see you again, he will take it as long as he figures that he can come back in one piece

• And the day comes to him faster than he expected. But it’s not him meeting you, but it’s you meeting him in a pretty odd situation

• Scythe claims that she has found you lurking in the corner while she was harvesting. And since she partly recognizes you because of the picture Medkit keeps looking at, she decides to bring you back as a ‘surprise’ for Medkit before deals with you later

• Seeing you again eases Medkit’s worries somewhat, yet your current state makes him reconsider his thoughts. You were exhausted, both mentally and physically. What happened while he was gone to the point that you became like this? He works up his courage to ask you about it. And you just shakes your head, saying that ever since he leaves, Subspace has became such a mess and it’s your responsibility to care for him

• Because that’s your lover. And you are doing Mekdit a favor by cleaning up his mess. Even when your words are calm, it feels as cold as a knife pushing into his heart. That piece of information is not what he looks forward to hear at all. Like always, he has been too late. You and Subspace together, bases on how you look at that moment, seems like a self-destructive combination. His heart aches at the sight, yet he can’t get any words out of his mouth. His mind is such a mess at the moment

• You tell him that since you still value his company before anything happens, you will keep this meeting a secret from Subspace

• Before anyone can understand what you mean by that, a Biograft just breaks in. Something that Subspace has gifted you with certain modifications, but it was under your command and follow your orders. So instead of attacking anyone in the room, it just drags you to run away within a blink of an eye as you wish

• Medkit is pretty much numb at that point. He can only look at you for the very last time without doing anything, like how he used to leave you back and fun for his life. He is aware that he is indirectly responsible for the current you

• You have changed. And it is partly his fault for it. If only he has brought you to run away with him, things wouldn’t go this way. Guilt overflows his mind as his heart sinks to the pit of his stomach. Scythe has to smack some senses into him

• Scythe doesn’t seem to mind much, it’s not like the little you can do anything, so she leaves Medkit alone

• Later in that night, Medkit can’t focus on anything at all. He reaches out his cigarette, lightens it up and takes a drag to clear up his mind. His hand is shaking as he remembers that soulless look on your face. Medkit finds himself burying his face in the palms of his hands, overwhelming guilt keeps torturing him at this vulnerable moment

• As his tear finally escapes after being bottled up for so long, he only has one question spoken clear in his head

• Why does thing have to go this way?

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

Note: Yup, this is connected to the previous Subspace green tea post

Note 2: I was about to sleep when I decided to write this what the heck did I just write

[ivan-fyodorovich-k]

this compass

what is it

[banqanas]

anyway. :)))

this is banan binch who is so desperate to see the BOT illustrations with her own eyes and at this point does not care about duplicates and will be getting uh.

3 copies of the same Keito, Sota, Yusei

2 copies Horinacchan, Sawanatsu, Leiya

[samuraisharkie]

*homer simpson voice* Marge I think I have brain damage

[sparkleyiff]

Not sure if I'll be doing anything more for artfight this year I am. suffering. sorry :(

[faradaykay]

there needs to be more images of hamuko and mitsuru together. actually

[hazeism]

hi!! wanted to ask if you have any favorite books, either that you've read recently or of all time. Your prose is insane and I need to broaden my own vocabulary so if you have any book recs, fiction or nonfiction, I'd love to know :')

Hii :D ! ahaha, what a well-timed question; lately I've become the kind of guy who just really wants to talk about what people are reading, or are planning to read, and responding in kind, so thanks for giving me an opportunity to indulge that, haha. What a wicked invention the printing press was!!! (Also--thank you!! I'm glad my prose is to your taste. I'm happy !💕)

If you don't mind, I'll put a cut on this right away, because I know I'm very talkative, but let me put a TLDR above for all the novels/authors I mention here. Disclaimer also that I am kind of a dunce (I think you know this) so I like silly shit a lot of times . please be nice to me adfhbjkdg. :D

(No nonfiction also because I'm a frivolous and unworldly little sprite or something but if you want straight philosophy [which counts] come back and I'll do my Top Ten Epic Platonic Dialogues Compilation for you .)

TLDR: Read any UKLG you get your hands on, Cain by Jose Saramago, or any Saramago (though maybe not Skylight, which is not a good introduction to Saramago), very much enjoyed Sartre's The Age of Reason recently, Shadow & Claw or The Fifth Head of Cerberus by Gene Wolfe. If you feel like it, come off anon and tell me what you like, so I can give more tailored recommendations!!

Now if you're asking for favorites, like just the particular and arbitrary objects of my partiality, that stir my stupid little heart, the true answer is probably UKLG's The Farthest Shore, just because it is very special to me. I can't, of course, in good conscience, recommend the third novel of a six-novel fantasy series to someone (but of course read Le Guin, everyone should be reading Le Guin, it's dire for universal soteriology that we all read Le Guin; You'll probably get told to start with Left Hand of Darkness, and that's pretty solid. I liked The Lathe of Heaven as well. And if you read any Le Guin it doesn't hurt to pick up a copy of the Tao. I love the Tao man.)

Some friendlier recommendations, though:

José Saramago is someone I really consider peerless; There's no way to pick up a Saramago and not know who's written it. Cain is a bit drier, a bit more abrasive (almost accusatory, in that particular way you'll find in a Buddhist parable) and bleak than some other Saramagos, but it's one I like (perhaps for the trite reason that I like bucolic atmospheres and Classical antiquity as a setting) so it's the one I'll put forward.

Uhh, I've also been enjoying Sartre's Roads to Freedom lately, starting with The Age Of Reason. I'm partway through the second novel and umm... despite all the other things you could say about Sartre, lmfao, let it not be said that he is not a serious literary force. Serious is maybe the only word for it. Dire, too. I keep a commonplace book, so usually I take excerpts, but this was the first time in memory that I felt compelled to commit entire pages, ahah (I just took pictures though, fuck copying all that).

If you're itching for esoteric language, Shadow of the Torturer (as usually collected with Claw of the Conciliator in a single omnibus edition titled Shadow & Claw; the first of the give-or-take five volume Urth series) by Gene Wolfe will scratch you BLOODY. If you're particularly fussy, you might be irritated by your compulsion to Google, but I find it really makes the experience when you type in a word and the only results are "what the fuck did Gene Wolfe mean by this?" hahaha; Honestly, though, those kinds of complaints are borne from a lack of immersion, but you'll notice pretty quickly that the verbiage is a pretty crucial vehicle OF the immersion.

It may or may not become a commitment, though, if you like Urth enough to want to read through, so if you want Wolfe without the strings--though less of the exciting vocabulary, which is pretty necessarily constrained to Urth--I'd really highly recommend The Fifth Head of Cerberus (the novella OR the novel, I mean the former is volumized in the latter so just start it and if you feel like stopping then stop, haha). Mr. Terminal E is incredible but I scrape enough time out of my daily life to gush about his crazy literary density so I won't do it again here (you should ask my coworker, lmfao, who one time went "stop, hold on, hold on." because my face started getting really red while I was explaining to him some Wolfean gesture). If you read any Wolfe, and I mean ANY Wolfe, because his permatypes and his manipulations of them are endlessly interesting, feel free to come back and chat with me over it!!!

I guess I have to disclaim that my habit is mostly to pick through an author's corpus over a course of, usually, a couple years, and then sometimes I'll read things that will inform my understanding of the genre conventions or currents that the author is writing in (been enjoying Golden Age sci-fi recently)--it's not really as deliberate of a process as it sounds, but I think if you were to map my habits, that's the landscape of it. This means, though, that my reading is actually pretty narrow in scope, and I am not very well read or very knowledgeable in general (who is, in this economy) but it does mean that of the authors I do like, I can probably find the novel that'll work best for your taste.

If you want to come off anon, or I guess just leave another message, haha, (or if someone else wants to, idgaf, we're all friends here at tumblr user hazeism) describing the things you like or look for in a novel I can probably give you a more relevant recommendation. I've been dosing people up a lot lately tbh, it's like a parlor trick I've been doing; I have a conversation with someone and afterwards they'll have a PDF with a relevant Asimov story in their messages, hahaha. I can't help myself sometimes.

Come back anyway, though, if you read anything I talked about, okay? I want to hear about it 🥺

And alsooo (turning to face the audience) if anyone ever wants to put recs in my inbox (or my dms : ) slow replies though sorry I'm a hermit) I'd be happy to take 'em down. Can't guarantee I'll read them in a timely manner, or that you'll ever find out if/when I do, but it's good for me to leave my comfort zone.

[tonycries]

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.

[simonbrain]

getting the biggest, scariest bastard at the pub in your bed must have been one of your greatest achievements, especially after watching the way he turned down a few girls prior to you.

he glanced at you each time, disregarding the way the poor things scuttled off in embarrassment; their confidence dampened. it's like he was preening under your attention, and even underneath that silly balaclava of his, you picked up on the way he seemed to flush. his shoulders became more square, and his chest seemed to puff out more. the air around him became more charged with his cockiness rather than the pointless attempts at hiding himself from the other patrons. surely he's aware that he's the centre of the room, no matter which one.

he only grew more bold until he was right at your side, and you held his gaze the entire time.

now, he rewards you with the greatest dicking-down of your life, his fat cock stretching you impossibly thin, the thick girth bullying its way into you over and over again. he fucks you like a man starved, touches you as if he's trying to sink his hands beneath your soft skin and stroke your bones.

although nothing could have prepared you for how fucking filthy his mouth is. his voice holds the right amount of grittiness, the kind that makes your eyes roll back as he whispers the nastiest things in your ear, his accent adding to the thrill his words send down your spine. each moan that fell from his mouth, each promise of ruining you for anyone else after him, each pet name he called you had you going brainless on his cock, your sensitive bundle of nerves twitching under the pads of his fingers as he follows through with his promise. maybe if you were any more lucid, you might have realised it sounded more like a threat rather than just plain dirty talk.

the next morning, you woke up to an aching body, a bottle of water and a box of tylenol on your bedside table, and no stranger in your bed. this may be the greatest one-night stand you've ever had.

well, it was until you realised a couple of weeks later that you're still getting off to the image of him blanketing you and that damn voice of his purring low in your ear. your fingers circle your clit, your eyes unfocused as you imagine him on top of you, taking you deep right where he belongs, and when you think about how he growled at you to soak his cock like a good girl, you come all over your fingers with a humiliatingly loud whine.

it only gets worse from there. you can no longer come to porn unless the person in the video resembles the big boy who rearranged your guts, and even that is a feat of its own. you can't find anyone who has similar tattoos, similar scars, or even a similar voice. reading smut can only get you so far, and some nights, you go to bed feeling defeated because you just couldn't orgasm.

you get so desperate you start searching for those dirty little audios people post online, and for a while, you manage to make yourself come (maybe not as hard, but at this point, you'll take anything). the voices that rumble through your headphones aren't as husky as your mystery man, and their accents aren't exactly close to his, but it holds you off... until it doesn't. and now you're desperate to find him again, but he's probably long gone now.

you can't believe it; the fucker really did ruin you.

it's not until a few months later that you hear that familiar voice again, and your knees almost give out in the middle of the damn store.

(they actually do when simon, he tells you through hungry kisses, bends you in half in the dreadful alleyway, your poor cunt taking each brutal fill of that cock you've been craving so badly.

"she's fuckin' squeezin' me, sweet'art. missed me tha' much?" he chuckles hoarsely in your ear, and you would have fallen over if not for his firm hold keeping you upright.

yep, he can fuck right off again. you'll get your lick back. just as soon as your legs stop shaking and you're not seeing double.)

[pixiesholloworld]

put 'em on the glass .ᐟ

╰┈➤ synopsis: me putting my your fav jjk men in car shmex scenarios

cw: f!reader established relationships w/ sukuna, geto, nanami,, fwb!gojo, hook up w/ toji, fear play? w/nanami agoraphilia (obviously), slight exhibitionism? fingering, hand jobs, oral (f!receiving), riding, pet names (like baby, honey, sugar), degradation (toji calls you a whore/brat/bitch/slut), high sex w/toji, spanking, missionary, backsh!ts, the whole 9 yards. [✿] is meant to be y/n

a/n: idk how much im gonna clean this up or proofread it but i hope you guys like

sukuna - [attachment 5 images] you'd never seen someone drive so fast before in your life, you watched as the little blip on your phone struggles to keep up with sukuna’s actual speed, updating only every few seconds until you see that he's around the corner. you put on the last few sprits of perfume and run outside to greet him, he quickly pushes the door open for you so you can hop in and before you can even get in good

"think its fun to tease me all day, huh? sending pictures of you bent over like that.." his voice, rough and consumed with desire. you felt all giddy after having successfully worked him up sending him picture after picture, of you in the skirt he bought you not too long ago— teasing him, you could feel your cunt begging to be relieved from this aching feeling, excitement smearing your thighs as he pulls into an empty parking garage.

you watch as his big veiny hands turn the wheel with finesse until he stops perfectly into a parking spot on the 3rd floor, the floor baren, the lights dim and flicker above the car as he reclines your seat and positions himself over you, "fuuck this," he seethes, "i'm not waitin' another minute to touch you". your hands reach over his shoulders and bring him in for a sultry kiss, you feel his breath shake as his lips press into yours again and again.

his hands wonder over your body, cupping your cheeks, and slowly moving down to unzip your jacket, knowing nothing lies under there but your hardened nipples. you feel his index and thumb squeeze and pull at them, beckoning small whimpers to leave your lips between kisses. you feel his lips curl against yours

"mmm, i like the sound of that" he moves one of his hands down to your legs, lightly grazing your thigh and following the heat to your puffed folds. the feeling sends a rush of electricity through your veins as his fingertips kiss at your folds and spread them, smearing the slick all over, "no panties?"

his thumb finds your soddened bulb and pushes against it slightly, you feel that same ticklish feeling start around your thighs and stomach, your brows furrow as your sweet moans fill his mouth. he moves his other hand from your nipple to your neck and squeezes slightly hearing how your voice cracks at the sudden pressure.

his finger moves at a quicker pace and you find it harder to keep up with his mouth but eventually you give up, letting him move his lips all over your face, your hips rhythmically jitter against his thumb. his hand grows tighter around your neck as your moans become louder

"k-kuna" you croak out, "more, kuna", your hands reach down to his and you guide two of his fingers inside. he lets you and releases his hand from around your neck, placing it beside your head, his thrusts are slow at first, watching as your body becomes more undone to his touch.

his lips slowly trail from the corner of your mouth, kissing at your jaw and slowly going down until he reaches your neck, his sharp teeth graze your neck as he leaves wet open kisses that turn into bites, biting you lovingly of course. he feels you clutching around his digits and thrusts faster feeling you lose yourself all over him

"kunaaa" you whine, fingers wildly massaging his tufts of hair, your body felt so heavy, you knew it was impossible but you felt like his fingers were so deep, feeling how they dove in and out so steadily, his palm kiss up against your clit every so often. it all gave you a feeling that was just a step up higher than euphoria

you could barley say anything other than his name when he started to sneak his lips over to your ear, kissing and licking all over it like a starved animal, shushing you while moving one of his hands over your mouth

he wanted this feeling to last as much as you did, but that single action ended it all, you two were so lucky that it was so far into the night that no one could possibly hear you.. at least no one outside the parking lot

even with all the windows rolled up and his hand over your mouth sukuna was sure your screams could be heard. "such a loud mouthed brat" he teases, removing his hand from both your mouth and weeping cunt, he instead forces his cream coated digits into your mouth so you can clean it off

"sorry" you muffle out, as your tongue languidly rolls between his thick fingers. your half lidded eyes stare into his deep crimsons as if you were trying to telepathically tell him what you wanted, feeling his length grow on your thigh

he looks at you with a fiendish grin and starts unbuckling his belt

gojo - rear service

you had no idea where your taste in men came from

as the oldest sibling it was only natural for you to be drawn to only children or younger siblings

and for some reason you chose to be fwb with the most annoying one you could find, though you suppose he was annoying in a charming way

when saturo invited you out you thought you’d be getting your pussy ate, not sitting in the middle of the beach parking lot watching all of the digimon movies in order. counting grains of sand could be more interesting than this shit

but at least he made it comfortable for you, you were in his custom made baby blue tesla, the 2 front seats were put all the way down and you were huddled up next to him under a blanket as the screen played in front of the both of you

you tried to stay focused, so so so hard, but the longer the movie went on the more you felt like leaving, it didn't make it any better that every few minutes he'd drop a fun fact about one of the characters, like you really gave a fuck

something needed to give and fast, you slyly move your hand over to his stomach and casually start toying with his pajama pant drawstring, thinking you were doing it so sneakily too, playing it off as an attempt to caress his smooth skin

but then all so abruptly you feel his hand run over yours and glide it into his pants and boy was he hard. feeling him take control so suddenly when you thought he was distracted caught you by surprise

"god, i was saving the fun part for later" he moves your hand down further so your grasping it now, "is the movie really that boring?"

you flash a smile at him, holding his length and slowly stroking it, "yeah, reallly fucking boring" you pull it out from his boxers and move your lips to meet with his. while kissing was cool and all you felt yourself growing more impatient by the minute

you find yourself moving lower on the seat, letting him hover right over you. you could feel the beads of pre drip onto your clothes, his breathing becoming more shallow as his wet, pink, lips force your mouth open to let his tongue in

he's rutting into your hand at this point, whenever he gets like this he starts whining and rambling, "sorry f'borin' you to death, let me make it up to you, yeah? come on, pretty" he starts pawing at your shorts, smiling against your swollen, spit colored lips,"let me eat it for you, or better yet let me fuck you, yeahh, could fuck you real good night now"

maybe this was why you happened to get with men that were an only child, always so eager to please, or maybe it was just him, either way you weren't complaining. gojo loved when you took control, so when you told him if he wanted the privilege of fucking you again he needed to prove he deserved it first, he did exactly that

it was such a pretty sight to see, his white locs of hair draping over your sprawled out legs feeling how hungrily he lapped up your juices. his tongue running swirls around your hardened bulb, sending shocks throughout your body, you could feel him nibbling and sucking on your clit all in an effort to hear your sweet sweet moans

“mmm, just like that ‘toru” you could tell he was losing himself in your taste, your scent, your moans, the feeling of your thighs threating to squeeze his head open if he kept going at this pace, he didn't care though he'd just pry them open again like he always does

he looks up at you so innocently too, knowing something vile is going on inside of that head of his. he didn't have to say it but you knew that would be your last time trying to stop him from getting what he wanted, feeling how his sinewy arms held your legs down while gripping the fat of your thigh, groaning into your cunt like he was the one being eaten out

the nerves in your stomach built up, and up, and up, not only from how his tongue quickly lapped at your folds but there was an added thrill doing this outside on public property… fact that you two could get caught at any moment added to the pleasure

your hand reached for his head trying to pull him in deeper, saturo loved getting his hair pulled and usually welcomed your gentle tugs but this time he took your hand away from his head and held onto it, looking you deep in the eyes as the hardened tip of his tongue bullied your clit

your body felt so limp and your legs shook like crazy at every movement he made begging to close up just to suppress your climax. you squeezed his hand, trying to keep yourself grounded as he groaned into your clit, licking and sucking at it until you were drowning in pleasure, your breaths becoming more exasperated

“ah, i-i’m gonna, ‘toru i- ahh!”, you moaned, arching your back as he held your legs open, hungrily sucking at your sensitive bundle of nerves. he lived for your taste, loving how your voice cracks when you’ve had too much for his sinful tongue for one night, most of all though he loved holding you in place while you squirmed into his arms, bucking your hips straight into his mouth so you could ride out your nut

saturo lifts his head up, admiring the sticky mess between your thighs as he works his way up, his dick poking right at your mound

“now for the fun part”

geto - no license

suguru loved, loved, loved, loved making you hit high notes, you promised to ride him one of these days but you were failing miserably, you weren’t making all the pretty noises you usually do

so naturally he took matters into his own hands—literally—by fucking up into you, guiding your hips up and down to match his movements. you could feel your legs juddering from having your legs in one position for so long, nearly ready to give out as you buried your face into his neck, clawing into the leather behind him

he was unrelenting, he probably wasn’t gonna be satisfied until he’s made you cum more times than you can count, to make matters worse though you were fucking in his car in front of a church, not only was it humiliating to know the car was definitely moving in the dark of night but in front of a church made thing so much worse

you’ve always wanted to have car sex and leave it to suguru to make it a night worth remembering with the stakes so high. he told you you had no need to worry since a church is the last place the cops will think of checking on you two, and with every thrust you slowly started to worry less and less

or was that your brain turning into mush? you didn’t even notice suguru was talking to you until you felt a mean smack on your ass, “you hear me talkin’ to you?” you yelp in response struggling to find words as he slams you down harder on his girth

“m-mmhm”

“my poor dumb baby, you’re all fucked out already?” he grabs a fist full of your hair and forces you to look into those fanciable purple irises of his, he hums contently admiring what a mess you’ve made of yourself. your make up that you worked so hard on smeared all over your face and the drool splayed all across your cheek, you were oh so cute like this

another mean smack snaps you out of your daze, dragging a more high pitched yelp out of you than before, “answer” he demands, can’t he tell? the answer was so obvious, your delayed speech and mindless babbling, the way your body would lurch forward in an attempt to impede the next thrust, the tears threatening to fall from those cute little puppy eyes suguru adored so much

“y-you’re being— fuh, s’mean— ngh”

“oh? am i? s’your fault you’re in this mess y’know. making me get my own nut off”

“don’t mean to” you say behind half gritted teeth, your eyes shut in an attempt to deny the inevitable but his hand smacks your ass twice in response

“open those pretty eyes f’me, wanna see that look you give me when you cum”

suguru knew you loved his voice, it was so deep yet soothing, everything about him was so tantalizing, the longer you looked into his eyes the hotter you started to feel. you were practically naked in his car having only your socks and shirt on, he had teased you for hours before your promise to ride him fell through and those hours were starting to catch up to you

“think you can ride all by yourself now?” his hand smacking your ass again just to hear you scream

“y-yes!”

“go on, don’t disappoint me”

you adjust yourself and hold on to the headrest bouncing in the same rhythm he had you going at, his curve hitting that same spot over and over it was driving you fucking crazy. you felt hot all over and the stinging from his constant smacks weren’t going away anytime soon, the inside of your knees started feeling sweaty and slowly but surely you started to wind down

he wouldn’t let that go unpunished though

smacking your ass again and placing his hands on your hips to fix your speed, “you were doin’ so good, what happened huh?”, he gifts you another smack before letting go of your hips, “don’t let it happen again, ok?”, you heard a hint of irritation in his voice, he meant big business

so now with sudden newfound inspiration you go at the exact pace he wants you to go, clutching around his girth every few thrusts, feeling his dick pummel through you so quickly made you so wet and his breathy moans made everything so much wetter until, pop

his dick slipped out, “uh oh,” he lifts you up by your waist and eases it back in, grabbing your hips and slamming you right back down into his balls again, “pussy’s so wet baby, you feel so fuckin good”, then all at once his hands roam up to your waist and he slumps back making you fall against him, thrusting right into you while hitting that g-spot

“who’s pussy is this?”

“ah! ah! yours! ngh”

he smacks your ass really fucking hard this time, forcing you to correct yourself

“ahh fuck! yours suguru, it’s yours!”

then another, smack,

your screaming moans could probably be heard from outside the car but you didn’t care and neither did he all he cared about was hearing those broken pornographic moans scream his name

“that’s more like it, keep going baby, yeahh just like that. here, take that shirt off too”,

he slides your shirt off with ease then cups your breast and places it in his mouth, letting it fall out every now and again to fuck you and then placing it back. near growls leave his mouth as you feel his balls crash into you over and over, making the most lewd papping sounds you’ve ever heard. all this added stimulation started to make you feel lightheaded

his hands were glued to the sides of your hips forcing you to take every inch he could offer and then some, he could feel how your walls would clutch around his dick so tightly, it made him chuckle a little, thinking you might actually break it off. he slows down his pace a little, his hands roaming up to your face, keeping steady eye contact with you, "you take it so well, sweetheart, wanna keep going like this?"

you nod your head rapidly, not knowing what suguru had planned for you next

"use those words of yours" he teases

"y-yes" you exhale, feeling his hands roam back down to your hips lifting them up once more

"come on then, put your arms over me"

nanami - murder road

when you told your husband you wanted to try something different you did not have this in mind

when he first brought up going to a murder road you were curious and excited, thinking it was something similar to halloween horror nights, but when you got into his car and started to see the city lights slowly disappear you grew a little concerned not really knowing what the road ahead had in store for you

"honey, where are we going?"

"you'll see"

the road ahead twisted and the pit in your stomach grew into an abyss, you looked up what a murder road was on your phone since he wasn't coughing up any answers but all that came up was this stupid book and then your service went out!

you knew kento had no alterative plans for you like murder per say... but you didn’t feel entirely comfortable driving into a literal black hole either. as if things couldn’t get weirder you stop at a cliff, its dark as shit out here, you’re cold and you want to go home

you feel sudden warmth on you leg and look down to see your husband's hand he’s looking at you with those same loving eyes he always gives you looking as though he's impressed with himself

“kento— dear, where the fuck are we?”

“this is the murder road i was telling you about”

“yeah but… what are we doing here.. this place is giving me the creeps”

his hand creeps up your thigh, fingers brushing against where your clit would be, “you said you wanted to try something different didn’t you?”

it all started coming together now, the secrecy, the long car ride, all building up to this moment, you’d be lying if his seriousness and dedication to his role didn’t turn you on a little bit, you felt a little more at ease

still freaked out that your husband decided to fuck you in the middle of nowhere but relieved that you won’t end up on the news tomorrow. you both climb in the backseat staring at each other hungrily until you make the first move, taking his tie off of him slowly and sensually, before moving to his button down

“[✿], what were you so afraid of?” a bit of concern tainting his tone

“hm? i just wanted to know where we were going”

“does not knowing things scare you?”

“i guess so”

he then unexpectedly took his tie from you and held it in his hands, "you wanted to try something new, right?"

your hands move away from his button down, his chest was exposed down the middle, his eyes were focused directly on you, unwavering

"y-yeah?"

"you mind if a blind fold you?"

blind folding? what the fuck

was it not enough that you two were surrounded by darkness?

"you've got nothing to be afraid of, no one can see us out here"

it’s not being caught that scared you it’s not knocking whatever coming next that did, then, a familiar feeling started to pull at your stomach again, it was like when you were on your way up here, or when you'd be left in the dark as a child— you were scared, but for some reason this time it felt good. you let him tie the tie around your head, it completely covered your vision and you could only feel kento's warmth in front of you at this point

"tell me if its too tight"

"so'kay"

"you ready?"

"yes"

your body felt so tense but it was all so exciting at the same time, you could hear kento taking off his clothes, the clinking of his belt, the ruffling of his shirt and pants. the anticipation was dreadful, until you felt his hand on your thigh, "can i take these off for you?" he pulls at the loop attached to your jeans

"mmhm"

he unbuttons your jeans first, and then slides them over your hips, you lift yourself up a little to make it easier for him and then he moves over to your long sleeve, only leaving on your bra and panties. your tummy was doing backflips by this point, not knowing what you looked like or what he looked like, just knowing that he was in front of you and that the inevitable was coming soon

"you look so lovely" he professes, guiding you to lie down on your back, you couldn't even fathom that this was happening right now, you felt so many different sensations now that your sight was gone, you felt how strong he was, muscles daring to burst from his smooth, taut skin. his body heat was so strong and it felt almost as if the heat was carrying his scent

you felt something coming closer to your face until you felt his warm lips press against yours, you just now noticed how plump they were, your hands roamed around his body moving up to his back and pulling him in closer, wanting more of his warmth

you could feel his teeth gently clash against yours beckoning you to open your mouth wider to let his tongue in, the texture is rough but wet, you felt one of his hands tuck under your back, bringing you closer to him as his dick nestles between your legs, slowly rutting against your laced panties

his lips would diverge from loving kisses to bites so suddenly, biting your lower lip and slightly sucking on it before sticking his tongue back in your mouth, the unpredictability and lewdness of it all made you throb, the wet sounds your mouths made, hearing how his breath would hitch and his hips would jitter after every whimper that fell from your lips

it must've been so hard from him to hold back because the second you ask for him to put it in you can feel him racing to take your panties off, you can feel the heat radiating from his tip and coming closer, feeling as though its about to burst

he teases the entrance a little covering your clit with the mixture of pre and slick before sinking himself in, shaky moans pour out as your hands try to reach up for him and he comes to you immediately letting you feel his warmth as he kisses your lips

"that's alright honey, ive got you"

toji - put 'em on the glass, girl!

you both knew you were dead wrong, you more than him though, what would the other club members think if they saw you like this? you were part of a very very well known car club, you weren't only apart of it but YOURE THE HEAD of the club

you had it all, the money, the cars, the attention, so what were you doing here? face pressed against the glass of the rival club leader's car with his dick balls deep in your guts?

the only reason you got into this situation was because you decided to match, not only was toji in a car club but he also sold weed and you like to test your products before you buy..

"fuck- toji! ughmygod!"

"somethin' wrong doll?"

"more, more please, more"

"more? awh, must really like me, huh?"

"shutupand fuckme" you say behind gritted teeth, you grab his hand and start throwing it back faster, what can you say? you were gonna get your nut off one way or another

you felt the car bouncing beneath you two, it shook so viciously especially when he started going deeper, it felt like he was pushing your cervix farther back. he grabbed the back of your head, pushing it more into the glass just to watch your breath fog up the mirror, like it wasn't hot enough in here already

you could see his smug grin from the corner of your eye as he pummeled into you, you used to despise that shit eating grin. he'd always show up to takeovers in the flashiest cars that were wayyy out of his tax bracket, there's no way he could afford them, he was definitely a theft waiting to be caught.. but all of that started to fade from your mind when he took his hand off your head and put it between your thighs

you had to let go of him and hang onto the car door to keep your balance by this point, your legs started to buckle and tremble, you could hear him let out a dark chuckle, his fingers spreading your slick covered folds to find thatt spot, the added stimulation was driving you crazy

you can see his face coming closer, stopping just short of your ear, "that feel good? like when i play with your clit like this?"

"uh-huh- yes! don't stop!"

"you gonna cum soon?" he cooed, you weren't even listening to his voice with your ears anymore but your drooling cunt, "i can see your cream on my dick, you nasty whore"

“shutuptoji”

“such a mouthy little bitch, dont’chu know who the fuck y’er talkin’ to?"

all you could do was moan in response as his hips thrusted deeper and harder just to feel you grip onto him tighter, you both knew you were gonna cum soon and it was gonna be messy

“nothin’ to say back huh? who knew that all i needed to fix that mouth of yours was stick my dick in ya”

“just- ngh, fuck— ah, me”

“awh 'm sorry princess, not goin’ fast enough for you?”

then almost instantly his hips started pumping faster, he pulled your head off of the glass and placed it up to look at him, he had moved his hand from between your thighs by now, slowly moved his hands down your waist to your ass, a hand on each cheek, gripping the fat and pushing it together, spanking it, groaning at each thrust loving how he could hear the sound of your ass falling back against him, fucking you so good you started to lose your arch

“t-toji, slow down! ah, ah!”

“hm?" smack! "why the fuck would i?" smack! "s’only one way to shut nasty fuckin’ brats like you up— nghfuck, you’re so wet—", smack! "you run that fuckin' mouth all day n' all i wanna hear is —mmm shiitt baby, fix that fuckin’ back, yeahh"

toji went on and on about how nasty you were fucking him out in public like this, how loud you were being, how much your body loved being on him, all while fucking you the way you deserved to be

"such a needy little bitch, huh? you need my dick? mmhm, fuck— sound like you need it," smack! "mmm, you want it dont you?" smack! "need it huh, dollface?"

a familiar feeling pulled at your womb, filling your insides from how good you felt, your hands scrapped against the fogged glass in an attempt to get away from him, but he holds you down against the glass again forcing you to take it

"fuck are you goin’? we’re not done yet"

[burntoutdaydreamer]

Things That May Be Causing Your Writer's Block- and How to Beat Them

I don't like the term 'Writer's Block' - not because it isn't real, but because the term is so vague that it's useless. Hundreds of issues all get lumped together under this one umbrella, making writer's block seem like this all-powerful boogeyman that's impossible to beat. Worse yet, it leaves people giving and receiving advice that is completely ineffective because people often don't realize they're talking about entirely different issues.

In my experience, the key to beating writer's block is figuring out what the block even is, so I put together a list of Actual Reasons why you may be struggling to write:

(note that any case of writer's block is usually a mix of two or more)

Perfectionism (most common)

What it looks like:

You write one sentence and spend the next hour googling "synonyms for ___"

Write. Erase. Write. Rewrite. Erase.

Should I even start writing this scene when I haven't figured out this one specific detail yet?

I hate everything I write

Cringing while writing

My first draft must be perfect, or else I'm a terrible writer

Things that can help:

Give yourself permission to suck

Keep in mind that nothing you write is going to be perfect, especially your first draft

Think of writing your first/early drafts not as writing, but sketching out a loose foundation to build upon later

People write multiple drafts for a reason: write now, edit later

Stop googling synonyms and save that for editing

Write with a pen to reduce temptation to erase

Embrace leaving blank spaces in your writing when you can't think of the right word, name, or detail

It's okay if your writing sucks. We all suck at some point. Embrace the growth mindset, and focus on getting words on a page

Lack of inspiration (easiest to fix)

What it looks like:

Head empty, no ideas

What do I even write about???

I don't have a plot, I just have an image

Want to write but no story to write

Things that can help:

Google writing prompts

If writing prompts aren't your thing, instead try thinking about what kind of tropes/genres/story elements you would like to try out

Instead of thinking about the story you would like to write, think about the story you would like to read, and write that

It's okay if you don't have a fully fleshed out story idea. Even if it's just an image or a line of dialogue, it's okay to write that. A story may or may not come out of it, but at least you got the creative juices flowing

Stop writing. Step away from your desk and let yourself naturally get inspired. Go for a walk, read a book, travel, play video games, research history, etc. Don't force ideas, but do open up your mind to them

If you're like me, world-building may come more naturally than plotting. Design the world first and let the story come later

Boredom/Understimulation (lost the flow)

What it looks like:

I know I should be writing but uugggghhhh I just can'tttttt

Writing words feels like pulling teeth

I started writing, but then I got bored/distracted

I enjoy the idea of writing, but the actual process makes me want to throw my laptop out the window

Things that can help:

Introduce stimulation: snacks, beverages, gum, music such as lo-fi, blankets, decorate your writing space, get a clickity-clackity keyboard, etc.

Add variety: write in a new location, try a new idea/different story for a day or so, switch up how you write (pen and paper vs. computer) or try voice recording or speech-to-text

Gamify writing: create an arbitrary challenge, such as trying to see how many words you can write in a set time and try to beat your high score

Find a writing buddy or join a writer's group

Give yourself a reward for every writing milestone, even if it's just writing a paragraph

Ask yourself whether this project you're working on is something you really want to be doing, and be honest with your answer

Intimidation/Procrastination (often related to perfectionism, but not always)

What it looks like:

I was feeling really motivated to write, but then I opened my laptop

I don't even know where to start

I love writing, but I can never seem to get started

I'll write tomorrow. I mean next week. Next month? Next month, I swear (doesn't write next month)

Can't find the time or energy

Unreasonable expectations (I should be able to write 10,000 words a day, right????)

Feeling discouraged and wondering why I'm even trying

Things that can help:

Follow the 2 min rule (or the 1 paragraph rule, which works better for me): whenever you sit down to write, tell yourself that you are only going to write for 2 minutes. If you feel like continuing once the 2 mins are up, go for it! Otherwise, stop. Force yourself to start but DO NOT force yourself to continue unless you feel like it. The more often you do this, the easier it will be to get started

Make getting started as easy as possible (i.e. minimize barriers: if getting up to get a notebook is stopping you from getting started, then write in the notes app of your phone)

Commit to a routine that will work for you. Baby steps are important here. Go with something that feels reasonable: every day, every other day, once a week, twice a week, and use cues to help you remember to start. If you chose a set time to write, just make sure that it's a time that feels natural to you- i.e. don't force yourself to writing at 9am every morning if you're not a morning person

Find a friend or a writing buddy you can trust and talk it out or share a piece of work you're proud of. Sometimes we just get a bit bogged down by criticism- either internal or external- and need a few words of encouragement

The Problem's Not You, It's Your Story (or Outline (or Process))

What it looks like:

I have no problems writing other scenes, it's just this scene

I started writing, but now I have no idea where I'm going

I don't think I'm doing this right

What's an outline?

Drowning in documents

This. Doesn't. Make. Sense. How do I get from this plot point to this one?!?!?! (this ColeyDoesThings quote lives in my head rent free cause BOY have I been there)

Things That Can Help:

Go back to the drawing board. Really try to get at the root of why a scene or story isn't working

A part of growing as a writer is learning when to kill your darlings. Sometimes you're trying to force an idea or scene that just doesn't work and you need to let it go

If you don't have an outline, write one

If you have an outline and it isn't working, rewrite it, or look up different ways to structure it

You may be trying to write as a pantser when you're really a plotter or vice versa. Experiment with different writing processes and see what feels most natural

Study story structures, starting with the three act structure. Even if you don't use them, you should know them

Check out Ellen Brock on YouTube. She's a professional novel editor who has a lot of advice on writing strategies for different types of writers

Also check out Savage Books on YouTube (another professional story editor) for advice on story structure and dialogue. Seriously, I cannot recommend this guy enough

Executive Dysfunction, Usually From ADHD/Autism

What it looks like:

Everything in boredom/understimulation

Everything in intimidation/procrastination

You have been diagnosed with and/or have symptoms of ADHD/Autism

Things that can help:

If you haven't already, seek a diagnosis or professional treatment

Hire an ADHD coach or other specialist that can help you work with your brain (I use Shimmer; feel free to DM me for a referral)

Seek out neurodiverse communities for advice and support

Try body doubling! There's lot's of free online body doubling websites out there for you to try. If social anxiety is a barrier, start out with writing streams such as katecavanaughwrites on Twitch

Be aware of any sensory barriers that may be getting in the way of you writing (such as an uncomfortable desk chair, harsh lighting, bad sounds)

And Lastly, Burnout, Depression, or Other Mental Illness

What it looks like:

You have symptoms of burnout or depression

Struggling with all things, not just writing

It's more than a lack of inspiration- the spark is just dead

Things that can help:

Forget writing for now. Focus on healing first.

Seek professional help

If you feel like it, use writing as a way to explore your feelings. It can take the form of journaling, poetry, an abstract reflection of your thoughts, narrative essays, or exploring what you're feeling through your fictional characters. The last two helped me rediscover my love of writing after I thought years of depression had killed it for good. Just don't force yourself to do so, and stop if it takes you to a darker place instead of feeling cathartic

[lunaekalenda]

biker!suguru who looks pretty intimidating with that big helmet that covers his face, but will take advantage of red lights to make the children in the cars around him laugh. moving his hands, changing his seat, lying on the motorcycle; anything works when he sees them smiling and waving at him when the traffic starts again.

biker!suguru who's full of tattoos under all the riding clothes. they're tiny, like fine stickers on his body, but you could spend whole afternoons finding each one of them, and he'll gladly tell you what do they mean.

biker!suguru who refuses to let you get off the bike by yourself. if he opens the car door for you and offers a hand so you can comfortably get off, why wouldn't he do the same on the bike?

biker!suguru who accompanies you to buy clothes and equipment for riding. he has been on it for years and he knows the best brands, the best options and the more secure ones. he'll make sure to pay for them, even if they're expensive, as long as you're comfortable and protected from any injury.

biker!suguru who takes you everywhere. you have a meeting? he takes the bike. you're craving your favorite ice cream at night? you'll go quicker in the bike. why would you go walking if he loves to take you anywhere?

biker!suguru who's not bothered by the rain at all. he would ride anyway, with drops falling on his visor and sticking to his exposed neck. he would even unzip his riding jacket and let the rain wet his t-shirt. it makes him feel alive. (and later, sick.)

biker!suguru who doesn't like you sitting by yourself so makes it impossible for you, moving the bike and going back and forth, laughing and receiving your little slaps on his shoulders until you let him sit you (or he lets you sit)

biker!suguru who holds your hand when driving straight, taking it between his gloved fingers, cutely caressing and taking it to his helmet as if he was kissing it.

biker!suguru who helps you to put and take off the helmet the first times you ride, being his smile the last thing you see when closing your eyes to put it on and being his lips pressed on yours the first thing you feel when taking it off.

biker!suguru who doesn't doubt to show you how to ride when you ask him. he takes you on a couple lessons outside, quietly and calmly ordering you what to do. he trusts you enough to backpack you (but you don't trust your freshly aquired habilities with such a man behind)

biker!suguru who never arrives from a ride late. he'll always find you awake, and he doesn't want to let you go to sleep alone. he'll always make it safely on time.

biker!suguru who loves to mess with you, while riding and once done. he'll take your visor up, he'll put your hands inside his t-shirt, he'll give little taps on top of your helmet.

biker!suguru who craves shoulder massages on sunday afternoons after all the week riding and working. you'll gladly give him some, and he'll make sure to payback with cuddles (or rides.)

biker!suguru who lets all the kids try his helmet while he waits for you to exit work/uni. you'll just find the most random situations while getting closer to your boyfriend, such as a kid having trouble with the helmet's weight or another one unable to see due to puting it wrong.

biker!suguru who looks so good unzipping his riding suit and taking off the helmet you can only think of seein that exact image every evening of your life

part one here ✨

[prokopetz]

One of the pieces of feedback I'd received on the previous revision of Eat God is that the introductory text didn't clearly communicate what the game's big-picture deal is. I'm hoping this rewrite makes it clear!

(Image transcript under the cut.)

Introduction

Eat God is a game about being on the outside. It revolves around the Folk, beings who stand for every small, funny-looking creature in every game that insists small, funny-looking creatures are morally okay to kill, every goblin and kobold and imp, all reimagined here as members of the same impossibly varied, self-created people. Each player will take on the role of one of the Folk, different from any other, and navigate the world from their knee-high perspective.

Of course, player characters in Eat God aren't just any small, goblin-like critters. They're also God-eaters, practitioners of an esoteric discipline – part existential philosophy, part martial art – that comes with both fantastical abilities and big questions: namely, what does it mean to eat God?

Is “God” the systems of oppression we build to keep others down, and eating God means throwing off those chains?

Is “God” the culmination of an error in our understanding of reality, and eating God means finding another way to be?

Or is “God” just a great big tyrant in the sky, and eating God means exactly what you think it means?

As a God-eater, your journey to find out will take you from place to place, with each destination presenting potential answers, usually in the form of someone being ground under someone else's boot. Owing to your limited outsider's perspective, your interventions may not always help, at least not in the ways you intend, but they'll definitely ensure that those who benefit from the status quo are having a bad time.

Or, in less elevated terms, Eat God is a game about a bunch of gender-ambiguous muppety things with bullshit super powers wandering around causing problems on purpose. If you cause enough, you might even accomplish something.