#but he would be shocked about his marriage

[strwberri-milk]

Hello, I hope you’re having a wonderful day/night! request a Diluc and Tartaglia with a S/O that finds the engagement ring before he could proposal, which results in him him finding out that they were going to propose to him as well?

I just think this idea is so adorable! Makes me swoon every time I think about it!!! 🥰

Diluc would walk in on you after you found the ring. He was going to ask you what you wanted for dinner that evening, eyes going from the small box in your hands to the shocked look on your face. He happens to just look at you owlishly, eyes wide as his mouth falls open in hopes of figuring out what he can say to recover this moment.

You just stare at him as you're trying to figure out if his reaction is the confirmation you need. You offer him the ring wordlessly, Diluc taking it and putting it in his pocket as he sighs. He doesn't usually pout but you don't know what else to call the disappointed expression on his face.

His eyes meet yours again as he softly asks you to ignore the fact that you found the ring and the surprise is ruined. You knew that this was coming one day since the two of you have discussed marriage before - just not at this moment in time. You nod, shakily agreeing as you go about your day, grinning to yourself as you mull over what your wedding might look like.

Tartaglia just laughs at you sheepishly when you confront him about the ring. He doesn't confirm nor deny the fact that he's going to propose, acting too nonchalant as you start to interrogate him. Unfortunately for you, he won't crack as he simply plays dumb, swiping the box out of your hands.

You can kick and scream as much as you want but he won't admit to the very obvious plans, simply smiling at you and telling you not to worry too much about what he was hiding. He can't help but laugh at your pathetic attempts, kissing your cheek and telling you to focus your energy on something else.

He is a little upset that his plans are ruined but he doesn't mind too much. Just because you're going to expect him to pop the question doesn't mean you know how he's going to do it. He'll make sure the proposal is something you remember forever, and definitely something that overshadows the fact that you spoiled the surprise.

[ilysungho]

hiii what do you think about the boynextdoor members + sad sex?? maybe they're aware you two are going to break up soon or know there is something wrong with the relationship (i honestly love angst)

i actually have some ideas but itd be great to hear yours too since you write amazingly

thank you so much for your compliments love! this is so different from all the other asks i've had, thank you for asking me this! i'd love to hear your thoughts too so please feel free to leave them any time, and let me know what you think of mine as well~ i wrote short scenarios for each of the members as i thought that was the best way to express the emotions. they aren’t as focused on the sex, but rather the emotions. leehan’s is inspired by this post!

contains: a lot of angst and sadness and tears, sad sex, husband!sungho x wife!reader, situationship!leehan x fem!reader, everyone else is in an established relationship (bf/gf), sungho/riwoo live with reader, lowercase intended

sungho - fixing a breaking marriage

there would be a lot of tears from both you and him, though not a lot of words are being exchanged as he holds you so impossibly close, yet still pulling you closer. bruised lips would show how much one means to the other as he gives you slow, deep strokes. eventually, he would be the first to break the silence, his words cutting through the sadness as he utters three simple words: i love you. and at that, you’d be crying harder than you already were, nodding while repeating those words back to him. he’d crack a small smile at you, relieved to know that you still care for him, at least enough to say the sentence back to him. you both know that both of you messed up somewhere along the line, but neither of you were ready to admit it. and as days went on, it felt like both of you were walking on eggshells around each other despite being married for 2 years, together for 5. his strong arms held you close as he started to be more vocal, asking you how it all feels so he can be better, not only at the moment but also as your life partner. he wanted nothing more than to stay as your husband, and he knows you reciprocate those feelings. so you tell him everything, through actions and words, for better, but not for worse.

riwoo - words that should've been left unsaid

"let's just break up then!" riwoo's voice echoes through the room as he stood up to leave. it was pretty normal for the two of you to have disagreements over small and meaningless things, the occasional arguments making way. yet it had never been as big as the current one you were both having. a little nagging turned into a course of reasons why he isn't being a very good helper around the house, which then turned into a screaming match between the two of you. neither of you knew why the argument became this extreme. he roamed around the park nearby as you sat on your shared bed in shock. you processed your pain and anger, ultimately deciding to take a leave for a couple days to really think things through, getting up to pack a light suitcase. about ten minutes after you began, riwoo comes back and is standing by the door frame with his eyebrows arching high. "babe i didn't actually mean it." he'd say as he tries to get you stop, only getting you to do so when he pulls you to him. "you're not going anywhere, you got that?" you're glaring at him the entire time, anger through the sky at the thought of that sentence slipping out of his tongue. he notices your expression at him not faltering, leaning in then to kiss you, apologizing to you continuously as he laid you down to properly convey his sorrys by giving you unforgettable pleasure.

jaehyun - closing the distance

he'd be very sad, hearing you say some things he never thought would come out of your mouth. jaehyun knew his schedule was too busy, yet he always tries to make time for you. days turned into hours, hours turned into minutes, and minutes turned into nothing. the distance between the two of you grew exponentially as he tried to juggle so many things at once. when you said that you were thinking of potentially breaking up with him because of how the relationship didn't even feel like what it's supposed to be anymore, he's on the verge of breaking down. it wasn't until you were at the door, questions with unanswered motives hanging over the two of you when he hugged you from behind, sobbing into your shoulder. jaehyun didn't want to let go of you, pleading you to stay with him as you tried to get his hands to loosen up. you turned around to face him, giving him a hard kiss full of requited pain and emotions. he'd kiss you through the tears, following your movements into his room as the kiss turned into more. you both hadn't been so close in a long while, but it felt like the right place to be in as he showed you his undying love for you in any way he could for the rest of the night.

taesan - instincts on point

if a relationship with you was something he didn't want to keep anymore, then he would've made it very clear. you know he would've told you that he can't be with you while also juggling all other aspects of his life. you know that, yet you still find yourself begging him to spend more time with you, to give you more attention, to properly communicate with you even. and the worst part of it all is that taesan knows it all. he knows it and that is why, the second before you could hit the send button asking him to break up with you, he's standing outside your main door, drenched in the rainwater and breathless. as soon as you open the door, he comes in and slams the door shut, kissing you hungrily against it before you could utter a word. he's pulling you in with him as he discards his wet clothes along with your nightwear. as you both reach the main bedroom, he's pinning you against the mattress as he says how he could feel something was wrong and came to ask you himself. you'd be shocked to see how strong his senses are, not saying anything as you pulled his face to your own to kiss him through your tears that finally spilled out, turning you both over so that now you are straddling him. "let me do this please," you say with a breaking voice, inserting his length into you while he pulled you down to kiss you again, unable to keep himself apart from you for too long.

leehan - end of an era

leehan held onto your figure, hugging your shoulders as the faint sound of the tv reverberated through the room. “let’s not meet anymore. this should be the last time we do.” well, those were the exact words leehan expected yet didn’t want to hear. he was… stunned to say the least, absolutely quiet as you looked at him to see any reaction he’d put on his face. being in a situationship was the hardest thing for you, especially when it was with someone like leehan who was practically perfect, yet far from it at the same time. “ok… i understand.” those weren’t the words he wanted to utter, yet he was afraid of fighting for you. he knew that if he stayed, it would all end up going wrong eventually. he had convinced himself of it and doesn’t even want to try to salvage what’s left of it. he knows he fucked up, he always does, but you are only doing what’s best for you and he respects your decision. he’s too in love with you for you to not choose what’s best for you. he’d hold your body close as you both share such intimate moments for the last time, kissing and letting sounds of painful love show through instead of direct words signifying the end of an era. an end of an era because of his denial of needing you, tears falling as he holds you one last time before letting go of all traces of you.

[nanamineedstherapy]

Third Wheeling Your Own Marriage

F!Non-Sorceress CEO Reader X Gojo Satoru X Nanami Kento

Summary: You should be overjoyed that Gojo Satoru & Nanami Kento are your husbands. But you feel your skin crawl as you become the third wheel in your own marriage.

A/N: Welcome to my descent into brain rot! What started as a simple “What if?” has spiraled into something much deeper. If you love dark romance, eldritch horror, and toxic men struggling with redemption, you’re in the right place. And if you’ve ever thought, “Wow, Haibara would be terrifying if he came back wrong,” get ready to see that idea come to life. This chapter is not soft; it’s filled with horror, angst, and moral ambiguity. Most importantly, it’s a cautionary tale about the dangers of ignoring your wife for months while the world turns against her. While this is a Gojo/Nanami redemption story, be prepared to suffer first. And yes, Megumi and Haibara are moving in—not because you asked, but because they insisted. If you were on the fence about loving Haibara before, congratulations—you now have brain rot. Enjoy the chaos!

Previous Chapter 13(alt ending 2.4) - Burn the Mother of Three (Tumblr/Ao3)

Chapter 14 (alt ending 2.5) - He's Eldritch

The hands came again, grabbing at your arms, your legs, your coat—until suddenly, they stopped.

A deafening crack split the air, sharp and unnatural, like a whip snapping against the fabric of reality itself.

The ground trembled beneath you.

Then came the light.

It wasn’t blinding—it was cold and clinical, casting long, jagged shadows as a faint shimmer rippled outward from where you lay.

The hands recoiled as if burned, the mob stumbling back in confusion.

Blood sprayed into the air, deep cuts appearing on the skin of those closest to you. Cries of pain and fear erupted as they clutched their wounds, their bravado dissolving into confusion.

And then he appeared.

Nanami stood between you and the crowd, ratio blades shimmering aggressively around him like a celestial executioner’s halo. They hovered, impossibly precise, cutting the air around him with a quiet hum that promised suffering. His face was carved from stone, his expression colder than the grave.

He didn’t look human. He looked like death.

The mob froze. Their rage faltered under the weight of his presence.

Someone opened their mouth to speak, but their words withered and died when Gojo’s sharp, cerulean eyes locked onto them.

He stepped through the stunned onlookers like a storm personified, his hoodie sleeves rolled up, his knuckles already bloodied. The air around him crackled with raw power.

“Touch her again,” Gojo said, his voice a challenge. “I dare you.”

The crowd shifted uneasily, their earlier confidence unraveling into fear.

Nanami didn’t speak.

He raised a hand.

Gojo crouched beside you, his presence both terrifying and tender. With careful grace, he slid his arms beneath you, lifting you effortlessly as if you were a precious enigma he couldn’t bear to lose. You clung to his hoodie, seeking refuge in his warmth, your breath still shaky. The raccoon kit nestled in your coat let out a tiny squeak, burrowing deeper into the folds of fabric, but all you could focus on was the way Gojo’s intense gaze locked onto yours, six eyes checking your wounds, his jaw tight.

The air around Nanami crackled violently as he released his technique that was already dying to end the existence of the critines who'd dared to touch you. The ground beneath him began to tremble, a low rumble that quickly escalated into a violent quake.

As the earth shook, cracks spiderwebbed across the pavement, sending debris flying and causing people to stumble back in shock. The once-stable ground transformed into a breaking landscape, a physical manifestation of his rage—to protect you. Dust swirled around him, and the air was thick with the scent of fear and adrenaline.

Then, with a thunderous roar that echoed through the night, the ground split apart, creating a massive crater the size of a building where the mob had once stood. The earth convulsed violently, sending shockwaves rippling outward as dust and debris filled the air, obscuring. Screams pierced the darkness, a cacophony of terror as some were swallowed whole by the gaping chasm, while others scrambled for safety, desperately clinging to pipes and broken pavement like cockroaches scurrying from a light.

Nanami stood resolute above the scattered remnants of the mob. His technique had transformed the ground into a treacherous pit, a potent warning to anyone who dared to threaten what was his. The ratio blades hovered around him, shimmering with a deadly promise like silent sentinels ready to assail.

His gaze swept over the cowering figures with a wave of disgust. They were nothing but a pack of wolves, emboldened by their numbers, but now they were reduced to trembling shadows of rats. The fear in their eyes only fueled his resolve.

Every breath he took was heavy with the weight of his emotions—anger, protectiveness, and an unwavering determination to shield you from harm. He could feel your presence behind him in Gojo’s arms—the love he fought for—and it kept him from snapping amidst the turmoil. In that moment, he was not just a man; he was a guardian willing to hollow the earth to keep you safe.

“Will you go after them?” Gojo asked, his tone light but laced with menace. “Or should we make a hunt out of it?”

“Later,” Nanami said, his voice low and deadly. “Once she’s safe.”

You barely registered their words. The world around you felt distant and surreal. Your mind was a tangle of fear, humiliation, and disbelief. You weren’t crying. You weren’t even breathing properly.

“You’re safe now,” Gojo said softly, his voice grounding.

Nanami walked to you, his hand hovering uncertainly before settling on your shoulder. His touch was firm but gentle, an anchor in the storm. “No one will hurt you again,” he said, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

But his words didn’t penetrate the haze.

“I… told… you,” you whispered, your voice shaking. “They won’t… let me live…. They… won’t let… me…the babies… live, Ken.” You kept repeating it like a broken mantra, lost in the haze.

Your body trembled violently, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.

“Breathe,” Gojo said, his tone calm but insistent. “Baby, you need to breathe.”

“I told... you,” you repeated, your voice rising into a choked, hysterical sob, but no tears came. “They’ll… kill us.”

Nanami rubbed your shoulders comfortingly. “You’re safe,” he murmured, his voice a steady hum against your panic. “We’re here. You’re safe.”

But you couldn’t hear him. The fear, the disgrace, the raw disgust—it all came crashing down, suffocating you.

You were shaking so hard it felt like your body might tear itself apart, your mind unraveling under the weight of what had just happened.

The raccoon kit nestled closer against your chest, its tiny warm purring the only thing tethering you to reality. You could feel its heart beating.

The remaining mob had scattered, their courage shattered by the sheer force of the destruction left in Nanami and Gojo’s wake. But their hateful words still echoed in your mind, corrosive and relentless.

The sound of Maserati M20 filled the air, and moments later, Megumi and Haibara rushed onto the area, flanked by armed guards in gear.

Megumi’s lightning eyes swept over the scene—the crater, the bloodied pavement, the faint scorch marks on the ground. His gaze landed on you, cradled in Gojo’s arms.

“What the hell were you thinking? Leaving without security? Do you have any idea—” Megumi snapped, striding toward you. His voice was curt, laced with anger, but his steps faltered as he took in your state—your coat torn and stained, face colorless, tear-streaked, hollow, and a canvas of bruises.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.

Your defenses crumbled. Without thinking, you got down from Gojo’s arms and reached for him, clinging to his sweater.

“They’ll… wanted kill m..e,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, trembling. “The..y hate… me so… much... Maybe… they’re ri…ght. Maybe I’m unnatural... Maybe…I..  I shoul…dn’t exist.”

Megumi stiffened, his arms tightening around you. “No,” he said firmly.

“I thought… I was doing the…. right thing, b..ut I wasn’t… I froze… I just… wanted KitKats… the twins… are they alive…?” Your voice cracked, and then the dam broke. Tears streamed down your face, each one carrying the weight of fear, humiliation, and self-loathing.

A sudden kick from within your belly startled you.

They were alive.

But it was so strong against your ribs that your knees buckled, though Megumi didn’t let you fall, and neither did Gojo who you just realized was still holding you. The sensation was visceral; it felt wrong—unnatural.

You could almost hear the whispers of something lurking beneath the surface—dark energies that pulsed in time with the kicks. It was as if the very essence of what you carried was fighting to break free, clawing at your insides, demanding to be acknowledged.

You could sense the weight of everyone’s gaze, as if the walls themselves were watching, waiting for the moment when you would no longer be able to contain what was within.

“Are you okay?” Megumi’s voice broke through the haze, but it felt distant, muffled by the pounding in your chest.

You nodded, though uncertainty gnawed at you. The lives inside were a paradox—both a miracle and a horror, a symbol of the fragility of existence. 

You could feel the tension in the air, thick and electric, as if something was about to unravel.

Gojo’s grip tightened, grounding you, but the unease lingered. You were not just carrying twins; you were harboring something that felt alive in a way that transcended any ordinary pregnancy, something that could change everything.

And as another kick reverberated through you, a chill ran down your spine. You couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever was growing inside was not just a part of you or their fathers—whichever one it was, though you guessed probably Gojo because of all the sweets you craved. No, this was something entirely else. It was a force of its own, pulsating with a dark energy.

It was hungry.

The sensation was unsettling, a primal instinct clawing at your insides as if it were reaching out, yearning for something beyond mere sustenance. Each kick felt like a warning, not just a blessing but a harbinger of something more sinister. You could almost hear its whispers, echoing in the recesses of your mind, promising power and chaos.

Sensing their cursed energy still strong, although rattled, Megumi spoke. “They’re okay,” his voice more softer now, almost a whisper. “You’re okay.”

Haibara stood nearby, his hands clenched into fists. He didn’t look up at Gojo and Nanami but spoke to them, his expression unreadable. “We’ll handle the fallout,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with steel. “No one’s touching her again.”

“I just… want…ed some… KitK..ats,” you mumbled, your voice cracking.

“And you got them?” Haibara said softly.

You looked at the crater where your bag of chocolates had probably disappeared too, forever lost.

Haibara’s voice was uncharacteristically serious when he spoke, “Next time, tell us. We’ll clear the store for you.”

“I’ll get more delivered at home. As many as you want.” Gojo breathed.

You nodded to them both, too exhausted to keep up pretenses when your ribs felt like they’d tear themselves apart from either the punishing baby kicks or the panic attack that didn’t seem to let you breathe anytime soon.

The raccoon kit stirred, poking its tiny head out from the folds of your coat. Haibara’s eyes narrowed slightly, curiosity mingling with concern. He reached out, brushing a finger over its soft fur. “Who’s this little guy?” he asked lightly, his voice a gentle balm against the rising tension.

Your voice trembled, barely above a whisper. “I… I found… it. I couldn’t leave it.” The weight of your words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken fears. The innocent baby could have died with you moments ago.

Haibara’s gaze softened, understanding flickering in his eyes. “Of course you couldn’t.”

Another kick shot up inside you, and you slumped against Gojo’s chest, one hand clutching his arm while the other instinctively rubbed soothing circles over your stomach.

Nanami’s voice cut through the moment, clipped but urgent. “We need to get her to Shoko,” he insisted.

“That generic medic NPC?” Haibara replied, a hint of sarcasm lacing his words. He wasn’t trying to undermine the gravity of the situation; he just wanted to keep you grounded enough to prevent the shock from overwhelming you.

Nanami hesitated, his brow furrowing as he weighed his words. “She’s… specialized. A sorcerer doctor. She’s not a gynecologist, but she’s the closest we have right now who can handle something like this.”

Haibara smirked faintly, though the humor didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Of course, you have a witch doctor on speed dial. Where is she?”

Nanami gestured toward Gojo, whose expression darkened as he stared at the redness blooming on your cheek. The sting of the slap had grown angrier, a harsh contrast to your normal complexion.

“I’ll teleport us there. Nanami, hold her,” Gojo said—an instruction wrapped in urgency.

Nanami shifted, pulling you against him. His arms, solid and unmoving, encased you like a shield. The sharp line of his jaw, the way his fingers flexed against your back—his rage was a living thing, barely leashed.

“Don’t pick me up.” Your voice barely rose above a whisper as you gripped his arm, your other hand pressing against the dull throb in your stomach. “Just hold me.”

He obeyed, pressing you closer, his warmth seeping into your bones. His thumb traced slow circles against your spine, grounding you.

“I’ll come, too,” Haibara announced, forcing lightness into the thick, oppressive air. “Megumi, you in? In case the doctor needs moral support?”

Megumi didn’t glance up. “Hmm.” His voice held no inflection, but his eyes, flat and cold, followed the guards as they disappeared into the dark. The lynch mob had minutes left of freedom. Maybe less.

Gojo nodded, crouching as he carved sigils into the bloodstained earth, his movements methodical. The air around him buzzed with restrained power.

Haibara leaned next to you, his hands careful as he wiped the sweat from your brow. “So.” His voice was too casual, the humor a flimsy barrier against something rawer. “Tell me about the raccoon.”

You blinked, thrown. “I… I found it. In that alley. It was alone. Scared. Its mom was dead. It had… plastic stuck to its neck, couldn’t breathe… I couldn’t leave it.”

Haibara studied you, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly nodded. “Brave little guy. Must’ve been terrifying, not knowing if you’d give it rabies.”

You frowned at Haibara in annoyance, then looked down at the kit, its tiny form curled against your chest.

You felt a flicker of something other than fear.

Care.

“Don’t talk much, just breathe,” Gojo said softly, standing up and glancing back at you. “You’re safe now. We’ll take you to the doctor.”

Nanami’s hands gripped you tighter, his knuckles white. “She’s nice; you’ll like her.”

Well, beggers couldn't be choosers anyway, and your body hurt really bad.

The moment Gojo clapped his hands, you turned into Nanami’s chest, squeezing your eyes shut. You’d either throw up or pass out if you watched. Maybe both.

Then, disorientation.

The world twisted, and when you opened your eyes, you were inside a dimly lit infirmary.

A woman in a lab coat slept in the corner on a chair, slumped against a stretcher.

Next to her—a whole-ass dead body.

You jerked back into Nanami, your breath hitching. Haibara and Megumi clutched their stomachs, nearly buckling—not from the corpse, but from Gojo’s warped teleportation.

Gojo rubbed the back of his neck, offering a sheepish grin. “Nanamin, do your thing.”

Nanami glared. “What?”

“I got us here fast. Now you wake her up.”

“And why won’t you?” Nanami’s arms tightened around you.

Gojo scoffed. “Did you forget she tried to prescribe me cyanide two days ago?”

Nanami exhaled sharply, patience thinning. “Be brave for your wife.”

“Oh, now she’s MY wife?!” Gojo replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

“I killed people to keep her safe,” Nanami muttered, like this was a contest.

Gojo smirked. “Then why are you scared?”

Nanami didn’t want to wake her up. But for you, he would. Just as he was about to speak, Haibara—who’d recovered by now—loudly cleared his throat.

No reaction.

Megumi, also recovered, poked her with a newspaper.

She merely snorted and adjusted herself in her sleep.

Gojo sidled up beside her, mouthing amateurs at Haibara and Megumi, who looked ready to exterminate him. Then, without hesitation, he bent down and blew a loud raspberry into Shoko’s ear.

She woke up slowly, then turned even slower. Expression flat.

Gojo barely had time to put up Infinity before she lunged, scalpel in hand, aiming straight for his six eyes.

You cleared your throat, trying not to look at the body, before she had the chance to make you half a widow today. “Um. Excuse me?”

She froze and blinked like she was just realizing you were there. Then, rubbing her eyes, she took you in—messy, bruised, barely standing.

“The hell happened?” She asked, already moving toward you.

Nanami answered. “There was a physical altercation with a lynch mob. Could’ve been worse, Shoko.”

Shoko nodded, gesturing for you to follow her into the next room. Disinfecting, she put on gloves. “Take off your coat and sit on that stretcher.”

She had wanted to kick everyone out, but remembering the last time, she didn’t.

You obeyed, and Megumi stepped forward, taking the raccoon kit from your arms. Shoko finally noticed him and Haibara—then stopped cold. 

Haibara wasn’t looking at her. He was staring at your stomach.

Not like a healer. Not like a friend. Like he wasn’t even in the room anymore. Like he was miles away, hands clenched, jaw locked, contemplating something.

Shoko opened her mouth to say something to him—then caught Nanami’s warning look. A slow, deliberate slicing motion against his palm, unseen by Haibara.

She said nothing. For now, you were the priority.

She exhaled as she peeled back the layers of fabric, exposing the deep blue and purple bruises blotting your skin like ink spreading through water. Some were already darkening, blood pooling beneath the surface, tissue crushed by blunt force trauma. Others were fresh—raw red, still swelling, still screaming.

“How long ago?” she asked.

“Ten minutes,” the room echoed, all voices perfectly in sync. Almost rehearsed.

You ignored it.

Your gaze flickered over Shoko, guarded. You didn’t trust her, not fully, but she didn’t flinch at your husbands. That was worth something, and you didn’t have the luxury of choosing who helped you right now.

Shoko ran her fingers near your ribs—not touching, just observing the way your body tensed, the sharp catch in your breath. "I need to run some tests. Can I sedate you?"

You froze. The word made your pulse stutter. You looked between Nanami and Gojo, then Megumi and Haibara. Your throat felt tight.

Nanami moved to pat your shoulder, firm but reassuring. "It's fine. She won't hurt you. Or them." He added the last bit uncomfortably.

Megumi met your eyes, something breaking in his expression. His nod was almost imperceptible. Haibara, standing just behind him, had that same unreadable stare. They won’t let anything happen to you.

You exhaled shakily. “Okay.”

"You'll wake up in about thirty minutes if everything's fine." Shoko's voice was steady, clinical.

"I'm thirsty," you murmured. "Can I have water before?"

"Not before the test," she replied. "Messes with the results. I’ll give you something after."

Her expression didn’t change, but there was something close to amusement in her eyes. You didn’t know why. You didn’t have the energy to care.

She helped you lay down. The cold prick of the anesthetic needle slid into your vein, sharp for only a second before the numbness spread. The world tilted. You barely made it to count three before everything went black.

//

Then, the air snapped.

A pressure crushed the room, oppressive. The walls groaned. Instruments rattled.

Shoko sighed. “Not again.”

Too many massive Ratio blades hovered an inch from Nanami’s face and neck, vibrating in place, waiting to carve. Gojo’s Infinity wasn’t holding—it was folding, pressing in on itself so tightly that his breath came sharp and uneven, like his own technique was suffocating him.

“What?” Megumi barked, stepping forward instinctively as the raccoon kit let out tiny squeels.

Shoko barely glanced at Gojo. “Do you have chocolate? Something sweet?”

Gojo fumbled in his hoodie, smearing more blood from his knuckles over it, his fingers searching through the depths. He finally pulled out a random toffee and handed it to her without hesitation, still trying to not suffocate.

Shoko snatched the candy from his hand and frowned when she read the label. “Chocolate, you idiot.”

She began rummaging through his hoodie pockets herself and found one that was chocolate.

Then unwrapping it, pried your lips apart, and slid it to the side of your mouth, careful not to choke you. The sugar would dissolve on your tongue and hit your bloodstream in minutes.

“The hell is going on?” Megumi yelled again, more demanding.

Shoko popped her neck. “The fetuses. They’re very murderous.”

Haibara finally spoke. “Is she okay?”

Shoko stilled.

The voice that was supposed to be dead. The voice she had stopped expecting to hear years ago.

Then she inhaled. “Look at her wounds.”

The bruises, the abrasions—the places where your skin had been battered and broken—they were healing. Rapidly. Veins shifted beneath the surface, knitting themselves back together.

Gojo breathed, his blued face returning to its normal color as infinity stopped suffocating him. Nanami exhaled slowly, staring down at the blades dissolving near his skin. "They protected her before. Why not today?"

Shoko observed you, thinking aloud. “I think it’s her mind. As long as she’s conscious, they don’t have control. But when she’s passed the fuck out—” She gestured vaguely at the disaster unfolding around them.

Megumi’s fists clenched. His nails dug into his palms, but he barely felt it.

Haibara wasn’t looking at you anymore. His stare was fixed on Nanami and Gojo.

The silence was suffocating.

Shoko broke it first. “I should get a fetal monitor.”

No one stopped her.

“So that means they only hate you two!” Haibara laughed out of nowhere.

Realization dawned, and Megumi smirked.

Nanami sighed, and Gojo scowled.

Shoko prepped the monitor in silence, her movements careful. She worked quickly, careful not to expose too much of your bruised body under the harsh fluorescent light or not to accidentally flash your body. The four men in the room, dangerous and desperate in their own ways, hovered too close. Overbearing. Watchful.

The moment the heartbeat filled the silence—fast, strong, unnatural.

No one spoke.

It was steady. No, they were steady. The rhythm was almost too perfect, like something engineered, something other.

Shoko adjusted the probe, eyes scanning the screen, her lips pressing into a thin line as she made her observations. “They’re doing well. It seems we don’t need to have that abortion we talked about.”

Silence.

Then, realization hit her for what she’d just said out loud.

Shoko’s mouth parted slightly, breath-catching as the weight of her words sank in. She turned too late.

Haibara moved first. He tackled Nanami in a throat lock so fast and vicious it sent them both crashing into the cabinets. Instruments clattered to the ground, glass shattering.

Megumi wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his hand—his own, or Gojo’s, it didn’t matter—before lunging again. Gojo barely dodged the hit, then Megumi’s fist grazed his jaw. Luckily, he’d placed the raccoon kit on a table nearby before.

“How dare you?” Megumi snarled, circling Gojo.

“This is your last day,” Haibara growled, his eyes alight with something close to murder as Nanami wrenched free and drove a fist into his ribs, loosening his grip.

“We don’t want to hurt you.” Nanami slammed Haibara down, pinning him to the ground with his full weight. “Listen to me.”

Megumi didn’t stop. “Did she know? Did she agree?”

Gojo wiped his chin, spitting blood to the side. “She didn’t know,” he admitted. “We didn’t get a chance because you both kept dragging her away—”

“You didn’t get a chance?” Haibara barked out a laugh, something unhinged. His voice dipped—darker, lethal. “Or you didn’t want her to know?” He shifted his weight, trying to break free. “Because if she knew, she would’ve despised you two more than she already does.”

Gojo’s expression flickered. He knew it was true.

Megumi wasn’t done. “And you wonder why they hate you.”

Shoko had enough.

“Stop fucking fighting,” she snapped.

No one listened.

Until the air shifted.

Five Ratio blades hovered right beside her head, sharp, waiting. They weren’t hers. They weren’t Nanami’s.

Shoko exhaled. “I will personally let the murder spawn handle this if you four don’t get your shit together.”

All four men turned at once, barely suppressing a shudder.

The blades didn’t move. They waited.

Megumi let go first.

Nanami, still straddling Haibara, exhaled sharply before shoving off.

Gojo rolled his shoulders back, wiping his split lip, but he didn’t say a word.

Then Shoko sighed. “They’re fine now. Whatever it was, it fixed itself.” She hesitated. “Only the tentacles remain.”

That got a reaction.

Gojo exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “Shit.”

Nanami didn’t curse, but the way his fingers pressed into his temples spoke volumes. He was barely holding it together.

Megumi ran a hand through his hair, his brow furrowing. “What?” His voice was tight, but he wasn’t looking at Gojo or Nanami—he was looking at the monitor, at them.

Haibara just stared.

Shoko crossed her arms. “Yeah, they’re supernatural anomalies. Nothing in medical science accounts for this kind of regeneration, let alone the... extras.” She exhaled through her nose. “We’ll monitor it. If things stay stable, it should be fine. But she needs to stay completely stress-free in the meantime.”

No one responded.

She rolled her eyes. “That means no media, no public spaces, no unnecessary outside contact. Not after what happened today.”

They nodded in agreement, grim-faced.

“And,” she continued, more pointedly this time, “there is zero reason to tell her about the... other discussion.”

Gojo and Nanami both stiffened, then Gojo responded. “We weren’t going to.”

Haibara scoffed. “Of course you weren’t.”

Shoko ignored them. “I’ll still track down that midwife, just in case.”

Silence stretched for a moment.

Then—behind her—you stirred.

Your breath hitched as consciousness settled back into your bones. Your body should have been aching, bruised, screaming in pain. But when you blinked blearily, everything felt… fine. You looked down.

No bruises. No pain.

You swallowed, voice hoarse. “Is it done?”

Shoko studied you for a beat before tapping your forehead lightly. “Yeah. But we need to talk.”

Before you could respond, the steady thump-thump of the fetal monitor filled the room. Your head turned instinctively toward the screen, heartbeats pounding in sync—too fast, too strong.

You stared, captivated.

Megumi’s phone buzzed. He pulled it from his pocket, glanced at the screen, then slid it away. He exchanged a look with Haibara.

Your gaze flickered between them. “You both can go. I feel a lot better.” You gestured vaguely to yourself, still half-dazed. Maybe this was Shoko’s technique, you thought to yourself.

“No.” Megumi’s voice came, flat.

You frowned. “I’m fine. Go. You can check on me tomorrow.”

Haibara smirked. “I’ll stay.”

You narrowed your eyes. “No, you won’t.”

Haibara sighed, exasperated, but before he could argue, Megumi stepped in. “I’ll take the raccoon kit. Get it vaccinated. You need to rest tonight.”

You blinked. That… was actually helpful.

Then, without another word, he grabbed Haibara by the collar and dragged him out.

Shoko barely waited for the door to shut before she turned to the remaining men. “Out.”

Nanami sighed but didn’t argue. Gojo muttered something under his breath but followed him out.

Finally, Shoko turned back to you.

“You’re under a lot of stress.” Shoko handed you a glass of water and helped you sit up.

You gulped it down, sighing as the cool liquid soothed your dry throat.

“I’d have never come back if I were you,” she said bluntly, watching you. “But I get it. You didn’t have a say, did you.”

You sighed again, heavier this time.

“They’ve always been too stubborn,” Shoko continued, stretching her neck like the mere thought of Gojo and Nanami exhausted her. “Gojo? Expected. Man’s got a single brain cell, and it just says bonk first, ask questions later. But Nanami?” She shook her head. “Extreamly weird.”

You blinked. “You work together, I presume?”

“Yeah. We were even students here at Jujutsu High together.”

Realization dawned on you. “Ah.”

You opened your mouth to introduce yourself properly, but Shoko waved you off. “I already know. I was the one who ran your tests before. Also beat their asses a little on your behalf.”

Your lips twitched. “Are you stronger than them?”

“Nah.” She smirked. “I just don’t tolerate their bullshit.”

You didn’t quite understand what she meant, but you smiled anyway.

Shoko tilted her head at you. “But back to the main question—why the hell aren’t you on maternity leave yet?”

“Too much shit has happened,” you admitted. “If I leave now, I might lose my position.”

She hummed in thought. “And those two?” She gestured vaguely. “Your friends. I presume they can’t handle it?”

“Megumi could if I guided him, but he has his own company to look after, and besides, this isn’t his industry. But Haibara?” You exhaled sharply. “He’s never worked for corporate. And he’s also... a menace.”

Shoko snorted. “Then cut back your days. Let Megumi and your fellow C-suites handle things for a few months. The stress is not good for the babies.”

You nodded slowly. “I’ll see what I can delegate and what I can fix fast so I can take time off.”

“Glad you understand.” She stretched her arms over her head. “Oh, and before I forget—what happened to Haibara?”

You froze, confused.

Shoko caught it immediately. “He used to go here. He was in Nanami’s class—mine and Gojo’s junior. Nanami only tolerated him out of all of us. Then he left Jujutsu sorcery for a long while when Haibara died.”

Your stomach twisted. “...What?”

Shoko frowned. “He was dead. At least, that’s what we were told.”

Your mouth was dry again, despite the water. “He just... showed up one day. Injured. No memory.” You exhaled, shaking your head. “And as far as we know, he doesn’t care to remember.”

Shoko went quiet, unreadable. Then, finally—

“Alright.” She continued to stretch her arms behind her back, rolling her shoulders. “If he doesn’t want to know, I won’t bring it up. Thanks for the heads up.”

Relief sagged in your posture.

Shoko grabbed her prescription from the table. “I’ll bring a spare hoodie. Your coat’s trashed.”

You smiled genuinely. “Thanks.”

She waved it off. “Don’t get soft on me now.” Then she left.

//

Shoko barely waited for the door to shut before she spun on her heel and gestured sharply for Gojo and Nanami to follow her.

They obeyed, trailing after her.

The moment they were out of earshot, she turned and spoke so fast they almost missed it.

“Listen. I’m doing you both a final favor. Again. I just told her to take maternity leave early because this stress is destroying her.”

Gojo opened his mouth to question—

She raised a single finger.

He shut up.

“How do you idiots not realize it? Those two—her friends—are in love with her. And if you don’t fix this, Haibara will replace you.”

Nanami flinched. Gojo actually stopped breathing for a second.

“No shame,” Shoko added, stone-faced. “He’ll do it happily. He's not the Haibara who roamed around us like a dumb little sunflower. He fits the profile of a sociopath now.”

The color drained from Nanami’s face.

Gojo exhaled slowly. “She wouldn’t—”

Shoko cut him off with a deadpan stare. “She can. She will. And if you don’t get your shit together, she might not even let you see the kids legally.”

Gojo paled. “She can’t do that.”

“System favors the mother, and she wouldn’t even need to try. With her financial resources, getting custody would be a breeze for her. You can’t win this, particularly not after the whole terrorist fiasco,” Shoko pointed out.

Both men looked at each other, the same thought hitting them at the same time.

Shoko grinned. “Oh, now you’re worried?”

Gojo turned to Nanami. “We should—”

“No,” Nanami muttered.

Gojo frowned. “What do you mean, no? We should do something.”

Nanami exhaled sharply. “I mean, no, we should not let her know that we’re panicking.”

Shoko crossed her arms. “Great strategy. Just keep gaslighting yourselves.”

Gojo grabbed Nanami’s shoulders. “I will not be replaced by an MI6 dropout with amnesia.”

Nanami stared at him. “That is your takeaway from this?”

Shoko handed them the new prescription. “I’ll send you the divorce papers template soon. Just in case.” Then she walked off, leaving them to bicker.

//

Shoko returned with a sweatshirt and handed it to you.

You pulled it on, feeling the warmth settle over your skin, then hopped off the infirmary table with her help.

She steadied you, then opened the door and yelled down the hall. “Come pick her up, you lazy bastards.”

Nanami and Gojo appeared within seconds, moving in sync.

Shoko helped you outside, slipping a small note into your hoodie pocket as she did.

“For when they inevitably piss you off again,” she murmured.

Before you could reply, Gojo grabbed your wrist.

The next thing you knew, you were home with your husbands.

You sighed, making your way to your room. You quickly shed your clothes and stepped into the shower.

The water was scalding, but you didn’t turn it down. The steam curled around you as you braced your hands against the tiled wall, your breath coming out in slow, controlled exhales.

Three months. Three months of silence. Three months since you had walked out of this house and never looked back. And now you were here—not because you forgave them, not because you wanted to be, but because they had saved you today from a problem they caused.

Your fingers brushed over your stomach, feeling the reassuring presence of your babies. They were still here. Still breathing. Unlike the people who had tried to kill you. The thought didn’t bring relief or satisfaction; it just sat there, heavy and made you feel nothing.

You shut off the water and stepped out, wrapping a towel around yourself. When you emerged, the room was quiet, except for a small box sitting on the nightstand. You recognized the packaging instantly—KitKats. You stared at it for a moment before picking it up.

There was a note tucked underneath, written in Gojo’s familiar, messy scrawl: "Took a while to track down. (The store owner was mean, but I am stronger.)"

You scoffed, tossing the note aside. There was no outright apology, but you knew what it meant. You weren’t stupid.

You left the chocolates unopened, put on some soft clothes, and walked out. The smell of food hit you before you even reached the kitchen. Nanami was there, wearing a clean sweater with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. He looked up the moment he heard your footsteps. “Come sit,” he said, his voice calm and hopeful.

You hesitated, not because you weren’t hungry, but because this was what they should have been doing all along. Now, when it was too late and the damage had already been done, they were finally doing everything right.

Your stomach growled, loud enough for him to hear. Great.

Nanami took that as agreement and set a bowl down in front of you—warm, familiar, and easy to eat.

You sat, ate, and didn’t speak. Neither did he.

Then, Gojo showed up, freshly showered and wearing a clean Digimon hoodie—the one you’d gifted him a long time ago. He began drying your hair, and you let him do it because the sound of the dryer against your damp strands helped distract you from your thoughts.

Once he was finished, he took his time brushing your hair, being more careful than you’d ever seen him. Normally, he would unintentionally tug at it, but this time, his movements were gentle and deliberate.

When you finished eating, you stood without a word and left, the guest bedroom door clicking shut behind you.

You took some pregnancy-safe sleeping medication and got under the covers. It wasn’t what you would have done, but it was necessary to escape the nightmares. And before you knew it, you had fallen asleep.

You found yourself alone in a narrow street that stretched on forever under a sickly, jaundiced light. The pavement was slick with something dark and viscous—blood, you realized with dawning horror—as if the ground itself had absorbed the remnants of violence. Every step you took echoed in your ears like a countdown, and behind you, a ragged chorus of angry voices grew louder, closer.

A man’s distorted call broke through the clamor, his voice dripping with vitriol. You turned, but the faces were shrouded in shadow—only the glint of hatred in their eyes was visible.

Their words slurred, vicious accusations that twisted in your mind: you were tainted, a harbinger of chaos, unworthy of the lives you tried so desperately to protect. They hurled insults that felt like physical blows, each syllable striking your already raw flesh.

Before you could move, a rough hand clamped down on your scarf, wrenching it away. The sudden chill of exposed skin and air sent a jolt of terror through you. In that frozen moment, you saw flashes—snatches of faces contorted in fury, phones raised to capture every moment, and a tide of jeers rising like a dark wave. The sound of cracking glass and the shattering of a phone mingled with the screams, forming a discordant symphony of cruelty.

You tried to retreat, your legs uncoordinated under the weight of panic. But the crowd surged forward with the relentless force of a tide. Their shouting transformed into a cacophony of blame and disgust. One voice, feral and unhinged, ordered you to “burn,” while another mocked you for daring to exist. The swarm’s words merged with the sound of fists colliding with flesh. You felt a searing slap across your cheek, a blow that left your vision swimming with hot, red pain.

In the midst of this terror, you clutched your belly, desperate to shield the two tiny hearts pounding in time with your own erratic rhythm. The sensation was both a comfort and a cruel reminder of what was at stake.

Somewhere in the melee, you heard the sickening crunch of bones and the squelching sound of flesh tearing, as if your body was betraying you in slow motion. You tried to scream, but the sound was lost beneath the roar of the mob.

Shadows twisted at the edges of your vision, morphing into monstrous shapes that seemed to leer at your vulnerability. A jagged piece of broken glass skittered across the pavement, slicing through a stray lock of hair and landing like a shard of reality in your dream. You tried to run, but your limbs felt leaden, paralyzed by an unseen force. Every time you lifted a foot, the ground seemed to pull you back, a magnetic grip of despair.

A chilling whisper echoed in your ear, a voice not entirely human, promising pain and isolation. The surrounding figures, their faces a blur of rage and malice, closed in on you. One rough hand grabbed your arm, its grip burning as if ignited by acid, while another ripped at your coat, exposing your bare skin to the elements—and to their relentless abuse. You felt the sting of every lash as if it were etched into your memory, each blow an indelible mark of their collective hatred.

In the climax of this horrific vision, your world collapsed into a maelstrom of sound and fury: a blend of anguished cries, the heavy thud of falling bodies, and the unsettling, almost ritualistic chant of those who had lost their humanity. As you teetered on the brink of collapse, the final image seared itself into your mind—a monstrous silhouette looming over you, its eyes hollow and seemed to assault you, as if to remind you that in this nightmare, mercy was a forgotten word.

And then, as abruptly as it began, the nightmare receded into a void of darkness, leaving you gasping for breath, heart pounding in your ears. The terror lingered—a visceral reminder of the night.

You woke up to warmth—not the comforting kind, but the kind that meant someone was too close. Your eyes cracked open to find Gojo and Nanami on the bed sleeping near you, not touching you, but there—too close. You exhaled through your nose, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle over you.

Slowly, carefully, you slipped out of bed, dragging the blanket with you as you padded to the long couch. The second you lay down, exhaustion took over again, and the nightmare came fast—the hate, the shouting, the hands.

You woke up sometime later again, with a deep gasp and realized you weren’t alone. Gojo’s arm was around your stomach, and Nanami’s hand rested against your back, holding you. They had moved to you again. Your body sagged before your mind caught up. For a brief moment, you leaned in, feeling the familiar warmth.

But then you remembered. You stiffened and shoved them off. They woke up startled as you turned your back to them, pulling the blanket over yourself. Silence filled the room, and then Gojo’s voice, still rough with sleep, broke the quiet. “...Yeah. Okay. That’s fair.”

You said nothing. Nanami exhaled quietly, the weight of their presence still heavy in the air. But neither of them tried to touch you again. You closed your eyes, and it took a long time to fall back asleep.

---

On the other side of the city, a dilapidated warehouse loomed over the docks.

Inside, the last of the lynch mob huddled together—along with a handful of online trolls who had thought they were untouchable and a few stubborn business investors who had already been scheduled for execution.

The rusted steel doors creaked open.

Haibara walked in first, flanked by Megumi and their men. “This reminds me of that time,” he mused, stepping over a broken pallet.

Megumi rolled his shoulders, stretching his neck with a slow crack. “The time we wiped out her family?”

Haibara smirked, “Of course, that was the best hunt. How they begged. I still dream of their cries and smile to myself in sleep.”

“It was hard tracking you down back then,” Megumi said, eyes scanning the room. “But I wasn’t about to break our little promise.”

Haibara laughed. “I love how you’re a sentimental murderer.”

Megumi ignored him.

“Although,” Haibara went on, “how’d you get the list? She never used to tell anyone.”

“Dad figured it out long ago.” Megumi’s voice was casual, almost bored. “It was delivered to me when I turned twenty. He had contingencies in case something happened to him. After that, I started my company. And the first thing I did—or more accurately, we did—was eliminate them all.”

Haibara whistled. “Ahh. Ol’ Fushiguro had some sense after all.” He grinned. “Good. Good. I had a lot of fun making that promise with your fourteen-year-old self.”

Megumi tensed.

Haibara mused, unbothered. “You had seen her crying over some bruises to your mom, ran to me, and asked if I’d help you kill them. Not to be mean, but I’m glad Toji was already dead. Otherwise, you would’ve gone to him instead, and that would’ve been boring.” He shrugged off his coat. “You were scary back then, though. Real serial killer child vibes.”

Megumi cracked his knuckles. “Shut up and tell me how we’re doing this.”

“Same as last time.”

Their men nodded and slammed the warehouse doors shut behind them as they walked out, leaving Megumi and Haibara alone with the people. The lock clicked, final. No one was getting out.

Someone whimpered.

"Please... save us,” a man begged, voice raw.

Megumi tilted his head. His smile wasn’t kind. “They want us to save them.” He looked at Haibara. “Should we?”

“PlEAsE sAVe Us!” Haibara mimicked the man’s voice, distorting it with an airy, unnatural lilt. He let out a sharp, delighted laugh, his teeth bared.

A shiver passed through the warehouse.

Megumi sighed, pulling on his gloves. “Keep the exits sealed.”

The emerging shadows obeyed.

The room darkened.

Ink spilled across the concrete floor, creeping up the walls, stretching like living veins. Mahoraga flickered behind Megumi, its eight eyes unblinking. In the distance, something wet and heavy moved. Agito's maw opened with a hollow snap.

Megumi lifted a hand. “Give them a head start.”

Haibara smiled. “How generous.”

Then he twitched.

And the world changed.

It wasn’t an explosion; it wasn’t a shift in gravity. It was subtle—something just slightly… off. A nauseating wrongness slithered under the skin. The air became thick, syrupy, too still. The walls breathed. The shadows didn’t stretch like normal—they lagged, following movement like broken reflections.

Someone gagged, clutching their stomach.

Another let out a choked scream.

Haibara exhaled sharply. His voice echoed even though he hadn't moved closer.

“Run.”

The mob scattered.

A woman sprinted, high heels clacking against the concrete—

She took three steps before her knees folded backward with a sickening crunch. She hit the ground, twitching like a broken marionette.

A man reached for the exit, but the moment his hands touched the door, his fingers spread. Not his palm—his fingers. They stretched too long, bones splitting at unnatural angles, flesh webbing together like something not meant for this world.

He screamed.

Another tried to run—

His skin turned translucent. The veins underneath shifted, moving in a way veins shouldn’t. They didn’t pulse; they writhed. Words formed in the blood beneath his skin. A message not meant to be read by human eyes.

He looked down at his arms and understood.

He tore at his own flesh, screaming.

Haibara’s technique wasn’t like Megumi’s. It wasn’t like Sukuna’s raw brutality.

It was eldritch.

It didn’t just kill. It changed.

The kind of curse that burrowed into the body and made itself home. That twisted people into shapes they weren’t meant to take. That let them see things they were never meant to understand, forced to experience things they weren’t meant to see.

A man fell to his knees, clawing at his throat. His own voice was escaping his mouth, curling into the air like black smoke. The words whispered back to him in reverse, echoing secrets even he hadn’t known he was keeping.

One woman was still standing. She wasn’t screaming. She wasn’t running.

She was staring.

At something.

Her pupils had dilated so wide her irises were gone. Her mouth hung open, jaw slack. Silent. Unblinking.

Whatever she was seeing—

She wasn’t coming back.

Haibara stepped toward her, tilting his head and smirked. “Interesting.”

Megumi’s shadows shifted, impatient. Mahoraga’s tail flicked, and Agito’s massive jaw unhinged.

Megumi glanced at Haibara. “Done playing?”

Haibara grinned, eyes bright. “Yeah.”

The screaming didn’t stop.

Some of them were still alive.

Not for long.

Megumi didn’t waste time. He moved like a specter—silent, meticulous. Shadows coiled around his arms, slithering toward the last few stragglers. They twisted through rib cages, laced around throats, and tightened.

A man gasped, his breath cut off mid-sound. Another gurgled, twitching as something inside him folded wrong.

Haibara, meanwhile, laughed. He wasn’t even touching them.

The ones in front of him convulsed on the ground, writhing. Their bodies contorted like broken marionettes, pulled by strings no one else could see. Their mouths opened, but no screams came out—only wet, rattling exhales, their vocal cords stolen.

The man who had tried to run—one of the investors, judging by his expensive watch—was now on his knees, his shinbone jutting through his skin.

Mahoraga’s massive form loomed behind him, its eight eyes burning with cold patience.

Megumi didn’t react, only flicked his wrist. The shadows obeyed.

A blur of silver and shadow shot forward, its skeletal jaws snapping down—tearing through flesh, through ribs, through the core of a man who didn’t even get to finish gasping.

Agito’s claws burst from the floorboards, wrapping around another man's throat, dragging him under like a fish hooked beneath the surface. The gurgling stopped before he fully vanished.

Mahoraga moved and the ceiling buckled under its presence, the air warping like space itself was rejecting the creature’s existence.

Someone launched a rusty metal rod.

The rod never made it.

Mahoraga’s wheel spun.

The rod froze mid-air, vibrating violently before reversing its trajectory. It buried itself into the shooter’s own forehead, and he dropped, his blood spattering backward.

Megumi sighed, rolling his shoulders. Toji’s raw physicality in a body with his own technique—fully mastered and awakened—made everything so easy.

“Want me to finish them off, or should I let them keep running?” He cracked his knuckles.

Haibara hummed, twirling a knife between his fingers. “Let’s give them hope. It’s funnier that way.”

So they let them run.

For a little while.

Megumi moved first.

One blink, he was in the center of the warehouse. The next, he was in front of a man who had almost reached a window.

If he’d made it out, there were snipers outside. Megumi was always prepared.

The man stopped—no, he was stopped.

Megumi’s fingers were inside his stomach, gripping his liver like it was a plaything.

The man’s eyes were wide and his mouth opening and closing in silent, animal panic.

Megumi yanked his hand back, and blood splattered across the concrete.

The liver landed with a wet thud.

Megumi didn’t even watch him fall. He turned, piercing eyes already locked onto the next one.

Agito, meanwhile, moved with too many teeth, mouth stretching far beyond what anything in nature should allow.

A woman tripped.

But she never hit the ground.

One second, she was there. The next, Agito’s jaw clamped shut, and there was nothing left.

No bones. No blood. Just absence.

Megumi barely paid attention. He flicked his eyes, watching Mahoraga advance.

It stepped through the wreckage, shadows twisting at its feet. Towards a man, sobbing, scrambling backward against the wall. “No—no, please, I’ll give you whatever you want, I can pay, I—”

Mahoraga raised its massive clawed hand—and crushed him.

Bone and blood splattered around.

The rest tried to run faster, but Haibara’s technique didn’t let them.

One by one, they collapsed, their bodies warping, twisting, and breaking in ways the human form wasn’t meant to withstand.

A woman clawed at her own face, nails digging into flesh like she was trying to rip something out.

Her mouth moved. No sound came.

Her lips shaped a word.

Please.

Haibara leaned down, watching her with bright, fascinated eyes. “You’re still thinking?” He clicked his tongue. “That must be exhausting.”

He tapped her forehead.

She stopped.

Not dead. Not unconscious.

Just gone.

Her eyes were still open, still wide, still locked on something none of them could see. Her chest rose and fell mechanically, as if she was only breathing out of habit.

Then the last breath left the warehouse.

The air was still, thick with the scent of iron and rot.

All around them, bodies lay in unnatural shapes—bent backwards, sprawled, hollowed out. Some had collapsed mid-movement, faces frozen in unreadable expressions.

Others were missing things. Voices. Thoughts. Pieces of their minds scooped clean out.

No one was left to beg. No one was left to run.

Megumi exhaled, flicking his hands clean of the mess. His gloves were ruined. He pulled them off, tossing them onto a corpse.

Agito’s eyes gleamed through the darkness.

Mahoraga’s wheel slowed, the eight eyes blinking once before fading.

Haibara knocked on the door. Twice.

Megumi stepped over a mangled hand, heading for the exit.

The warehouse door creaked open.

Outside, the night air was cool. The moon was high. All unbothered.

As Megumi stepped into the dockyard, one of his employees—a specialist in discreetly gathering people—approached him, holding something small and dark in her hands. It wriggled, extending its tiny paws toward him. The raccoon kit, its fur now softer after a recent visit to the vet and groomer, sniffed curiously at his hands.

He gently scratched the creature between its ears, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Then he took it over and put it in his pocket and started walking.

Haibara fell into step beside him.

Neither of them spoke as they got in the backseat of the car.

The streetlights buzzed overhead as they made their way to the only place that mattered.

Home.

Which would be a few floors below in your building from today.

---

“How the hell have you not been able to decrypt a single phone yet, Choso?” Sukuna growled, frustration evident in his voice.

“It’s not a skill issue, you dumbass; it’s encrypted!” Choso shot back, then abruptly cut himself off. “Bingo!”

Sukuna leaped off the couch and strode over to him, curiosity piqued.

Choso opened the gallery on the phone, revealing a series of images.

“Hey, isn’t that the guy from that terrorist attack? Nanami Kento, I think? It’s all over social media from many days,” Yuji muttered as he strolled by, chewing on sour candy.

“And you’re telling me this now?!” Sukuna barked, his irritation boiling over.

“How the hell was I supposed to know you were looking for their wife? We thought you made her up!” Yuji retorted unfazed by Sukuna’s anger.

Choso stepped in to intervene before Sukuna could strangle Yuji, but Yuji simply walked over to the fridge for some soda. “You really should check social media from time to time,” he added nonchalantly.

“Where does she live?” Sukuna asked Choso, giving up on the unwinnable battle against Yuji.

A/N: So, how does it feel to know that Haibara isn’t dead, but he also has the moral alignment of an eldritch horror? Did you have fun? Do you feel unsafe? Good. And how much did we miss Sukuna? Also, I wrote another fic of this version of Haibara since y’all seem to love him so much, except this time, he’s a soft (but still terrifying) yandere with Nanago: 🤓 The Symphony of Spite 🤓 [Tumblr/Ao3] Ryomen Sukuna x GN!Therapist Reader x Nanami Kento Crybaby!Gojo Satoru x ..... (he's after one of your manz) And for no one but my shower thoughts: 🦴 Ooga Booga Battle Royale 🐯 [Tumblr/Ao3] F!Reader x Pre-Historic Neanderthal JJK daddies (Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Geto Suguru, Zenin Toji & Ryomen Sukuna) Like. Comment. Give me your first borns or just send me asks about your mental state. I’ll be waiting.

Next chapter will be out on idk :P

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[zablife]

@peakyswritings What an incredible finale, Reb! You should be so proud of every word you've written over the past year bc this is a masterpiece. (And it's only the first act! Squealing with glee that we're getting more after this!)

I can't believe we've come to Tommy x Nina's wedding day already! Tho they're forced to marry under less than ideal circumstances, their union feels deeply satisfying. The way Nina finds reassurance by staring into Tommy's blue eyes made me melt 🫠 I love that he makes her feel safe with him. However, I also appreciated how you explored all her emotions surrounding the marriage. Her fear of losing her dreams is wonderfully realistic.

As for her family's reactions, I can understand the bitterness of their disappointment and I'm hoping their opinion changes over time. (Obv that hinges on how Tommy treats her. Don't fuck this up, Tommy!!) Ngl her father's cold silence stung. I'm trying to remind myself that he's prob still in shock tho, not to mention melancholic over sending away his only daughter. In the end he did give his blessing and will face fall out with his brother which is an enormous sacrifice.

Hooray for Pietro being the voice of reason! His strategy proves he'll make a successful and compassionate leader one day. I'm so happy he was the one to tell her about the decision. I love the fact that he acknowledges her ambitions and encourages her to do everything she's dreamed of. He makes me so hopeful for the future generations of the Ferrante family!

I wasn't sure how Salvatore would react, but I had the biggest grin on my face when I realized he would support her. Gifting her the family knife is such a lovely gesture and def not something I would have expected from him. I think Nina is right, if not for the war, he would have been a v diff person and he's attempting to show that side of himself here. (In many ways I feel he's much like Arthur which makes me curious to see how she'll handle her brother-in-law with his fits of temper.)

I'm anxiously awaiting the next part to learn how Nina acclimates to her new home (and family)! Poor girl has no clue about the chaos she's walking into 😆

Heart, Body and Soul || Tommy Shelby x OC

CHAPTER 14 - EPILOGUE OF PART ONE

Summary: All hell has broken loose in the Ferrante household. There’s a choice to be made, and too little time to hesitate.

Warnings: time-typical misogyny, arranged marriage, mentions of forced marriage, mentions of killing, mentions of violence, mention of beatings, a bit of an age-gap (Tommy’s 30, Nina is in her early 20s). This is set between season 1 and 2. English is not my first language.

A/N: nothing for now, but I left a note at the end of the chapter. I got quite sentimental and rambled a bit, so I decided that it would be best to leave it there.

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“According to tradition, they should get married at dawn, before word spreads,” Pietro paced around his father’s office, arms crossed, brain striving to find a solution to the predicament the family had found itself in. “But it’s too late for that.”

He snorted, wiping his face. The lack of sleep was starting to get to him. He hadn’t gone to bed after talking to Nina, he couldn’t imagine trying to sleep while the household threatened to collapse and implode. Moreover, he knew he would find his father awake as well, and he had been waiting for the chance to speak to him alone all evening. The meeting had been nothing but a mess. Everybody was too angry to think or act clearly, and they had accomplished nothing.

“Your uncle Mario has spoken against it,” his father shook his head. “And I can’t blame him. Shelby humiliated Agnese by…” he paused, grimacing. “Engaging with your sister. He wants him dead.”

“Uncle Mario has no head for business. We can’t afford to act out on revenge, not right now. If we listen to him, we’re fucked, you know it too.” Stopping in front of his father’s desk, Pietro rested with his left palm upon the wooden surface, slightly leaning in. “Imagine what would happen. We kill Shelby, we lose our ally against Sabini. And on top of that, we’ll have that mad brother of his seeking revenge,” he said, punctuating his speech with his finger.

“But if we give Nina to Stefano, we’ll seal our alliance with the Spinietta family.”

Pietro scoffed, raising his eyebrows. “The Spinietta family would betray us without a second thought, if that granted them the chance to rise, family or not. You forget Giuseppe Spinietta killed his own brother to take charge of the business. I wouldn’t be surprised if Stefano and Vito followed his example, someday.”

His father tapped his fingers on the desk, squinting his eyes. “So what do you suggest that we do?”

“We get Nina and Shelby married tomorrow, in secret,” he straightened his back. “During the night, or at dawn. Then we put them on the first boat to England.”

His father got up in an abrupt movement, taking a few steps away from his desk. He rubbed his mouth with his palm, pondering. “You want me to turn my back on my own brother?”

“It’s the only way.”

“He’ll never forgive me.”

“He will, when Shelby’s men help us in our war against Sabini.” Pietro crossed the room with long strides, until he was standing in front of him. “If uncle Antonio was here, he’d tell you the same thing.”

“But he’s not here, is he? And I don’t know how happy he’ll be when he finds out we made a decision without consulting him too.”

“Dad, this isn’t about us getting all along,” he said lowly. “This is about us averting a war we don’t need.”

The silence Pietro got in return told him he was finally getting through to him, and it spurred him to go on. He placed his hands on his father’s shoulders, looking him right in the eyes. “I can tell you’re not just worried about uncle Mario. You’re worried about Nina, about sending her away overnight. I am too. But right now, this is the best thing we can do for her. I don’t trust aunt Rita to stay quiet about what happened. If word spreads, she’s ruined.”

His father’s eyes traveled across his face as he took in his words, his expression indecipherable. At that point, Pietro could only hope they’d have the desired effect. Saying more was hazardous, and he had already pushed his luck by talking to him that way.

Long moments passed before his father nodded, more to himself than to him, a bitter smile making its way on his face. Then he affectionately patted him on the cheek. “One day, it’ll be you taking my place. I guess I should start letting you make decisions.”

Nina watched as the first rays of the sun filtered through the lace curtains, hues of amber and violet lightening the dark room. She hadn’t been able to sleep all night, tormented by thoughts of helplessness and guilt. What up until a few hours before had been nothing but a haze had finally taken shape in her mind, forcing her to face the mess she had made. Yet, there was still a missing piece, a doubt that nagged at her brain, a question she just couldn’t find an answer to.

How did it happen? Was there a turning point that had caused the unfolding of that unrelenting chain of events? Or was it a result of something so gradual she didn’t even notice it until it was too late?

Useless musings, she was aware of it. It had happened, no matter when, no matter how. Somewhere along the way, she grew to care for Tommy, and it made her reckless. It made her careless. So careless that she would leave her home, her family, everything she had ever known for the man who her cousin was supposed to marry. She felt like a terrible person for it. God, she was a terrible person. The vicious things she had said to Agnese that afternoon still haunted her. Agnese, who all her life had shown her nothing but kindness. She had ruined everything. For her cousin, for her family, for herself. And the worst thing was, despite the mess, despite the danger, and the risks, and the pain, - she did not regret it. She did not regret him. Because she had never felt more alive than she did with Tommy. When everything was dull and hopeless, he had lit a spark inside her, and that spark had bursted into a flame, and that flame had set her soul on fire. How could she ever regret something like that?

A soft knock on the door cut through her thoughts. Winston promptly raised his little head from his spot next to her, his yellow eyes snapping toward the source of the noise.

“Come in,” she said faintly, so faintly she suspected whoever had knocked couldn’t even hear her. But the door opened, revealing Pietro’s tall frame in the semi-darkness.

“I have just finished speaking to dad,” he said gravely, taking a few steps inside the room. He was still dressed as the previous night, and from the tired look on his face, Nina could tell he hadn’t closed an eye, just like her.

She anxiously scanned his features in search for a shift, a clue she could read to get her answer. But his expression was cold as stone. “And?” she enquired, fidgeting with her own fingers.

Pietro exhaled deeply through his nostrils, placing his hands on his hips. “He agreed,” he nodded, fixing his gaze on a point straight in front of him. “You’re marrying Shelby.” There was no inflection in his voice, nothing that could betray whatever emotion he might be feeling.

Nina’s breath caught in her throat. She blinked, letting his words hang in the air, afraid that it was only a trick or her own imagination, a counterfeit reflection of her hopes. “Are you serious?”

Her brother shifted his dark eyes on her, giving her a single nod. “Yes.”

Yes. Her father had said yes. A wave of relief washed over her, and she felt like she had been given back the air taken from her a few hours before. Tommy was safe. He’d be fine. They’d both be fine. She rubbed her eyes with her hand, holding back the sudden tears that had gathered. She hated feeling so emotional, so weak, but she couldn’t help it. And as the realisation sank in, something else came to the surface. Fear. Until that moment, marriage had been nothing more than a distant hypothesis, a possibility, a chance. Now it was awfully real, with all its implications, and risks, and consequences. Because it didn’t matter how strong her feelings for Tommy were, she had no certainties. She was jumping into the void not knowing where she’d land.

The mattress sank beside her, and a warm hand rested on her shoulder. “Chi fai, chianci?” Pietro taunted her, his tone softer, but still bearing a hint of reproach. (What are you doing, you’re crying?)

“No,” she sniffled, swallowing the lump in her throat.

Letting his hand fall, he leaned with his back against the wall, his shoulder brushing against hers. For a while, neither of them spoke. There wasn’t much to say. She had brought trouble upon the whole family, she knew that, he knew that. Nothing they could say could undo what she had done, no amount of anger and resentment could make them go back and change it. And Nina had already paid enough. The split lip their father’s heavy hand had left her with was proof of that.

It was Pietro who broke the silence. “If two months ago someone had told me you’d offer to marry a man just to save him I wouldn’t have believed them.”

Nina shook her head, the shadow of a smirk playing on her face. “Me neither.”

“You were supposed to do something more.”

Those words came like a stab. There was no malice in them, just pure, painful truth. A truth everyone around her had forced her to forswear, to lock away in a drawer as yet another hopeless dream. In her heart, she had always known she was meant for something more, that she would never be able to find her happiness in marriage and family, but the reality of things had hit her too hard way too many times.

Nina clenched her jaw, her mouth going dry. “I tried.”

“And you will try again,” Pietro murmured, like a statement of fact. “Because this is who you are.” A shadow of melancholy darkened his eyes. He let out a sigh, dropping his gaze to his hands. “I’m sorry I abandoned you after I came back from the war. I should’ve done more for you, I should’ve forced dad to see what I saw. Maybe things would’ve been different. Maybe-”

“You did enough,” she interrupted him, but there was no harshness in her voice. “Dad only sees what he wants to see.”

Their father was a stubborn man, and he had his own beliefs, beliefs he had already betrayed by allowing Nina way more than any other father allowed his daughter. Asking him more meant asking him the impossible.

“And…” she pondered her next words, playing with the hem of her nightgown. “This is not a sacrifice. Not completely, at least.”

She didn’t need to look at him to know that Pietro was scrutinising her, waiting for her to go on. For the bomb to drop.

“I care about Tommy,” she revealed. “I might not know what my life would’ve been like had things been different, or what my life will be like a year from now, but I know that I care about him. And that’s enough, for now.”

Her words sounded foreign to her own ears. She had never dared to say it out loud before, and yet there it went, coming out of her mouth as the simplest of truths. She felt lighter, as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Because finally she could admit it to herself. Tommy Shelby had bursted into her life and made her question everything she thought she knew. He had made her feel things she never thought she’d be able to feel for anyone, he had taught her to see him. To love him, without neither of them realising it. And now that she knew how it felt to see and be seen, she wasn’t sure she could just let it go.

When she glanced at Pietro, a small smile tugged at his lips. Her eyebrows knitted in a confused frown. She could swear he was disappointed in her up until a few minutes before. But again, what went through her brother’s mind would always be a mystery to her.

“You’ve always done as you pleased,” he said. “You wanted to finish school, you finished school. You didn’t want to marry Spinietta, you didn’t marry Spinietta. Now you have decided you want to be with Shelby. God knows what you’ll do when we won’t be there to keep an eye on you.”

Despite his attempt at a joke, his voice bore a sadness that pierced right through her, and that she immediately recognised as her own, too.

We won’t be there to keep an eye on you.

That would be the last day she spent at home, with her family. She wouldn’t wake up to her mother’s rants anymore, or to her brothers’ fighting. She wouldn’t sneak into her father’s office to read when she’d need some peace, or cover up Winston’s shenanigans to prevent her mum from throwing him out the house. There was no telling when they’d get to see each other again. She pursed her lips, forcing herself to smile. “I guess you’ll find out.”

“I hope so,” he whispered. He turner to look at her, and when he spoke again, his tone was deadly serious. “You can still do what you want to do. This doesn’t have to be the end.”

She hoped he was right. She desperately wanted to believe he was. But that was the kind of thing only time could tell. She nodded, her eyes travelling to her window. The sun was rising above the horizon.

“Pietro, I need to talk to Tommy.”

She felt him stiffen beside her.

“You’ll have plenty of time to talk after you’re married,” he said dryly.

“Please.“

He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Alright. But there are men watching, and they don’t know why Shelby’s confined there. They can’t see you. I can distract them, but you’ll have to be quick.”

Nina nodded frantically. “I’ll be quick,” she promised. “I just need a minute with him.”

“Fuck!”

Tommy’s voice resounded in the small room as he angrily kicked the door. He had been locked in there for hours, like a lion in a cage, waiting to be freed or put down. He had been brought to some kind of shack in the middle of the Sicilian fields, and left there to go insane. From the considerable number of pits he had caught a glimpse of before they pushed him inside, he could tell that was the place where the Ferrante family made people disappear.

Chances were, someone was digging a fresh one for him that very moment.

It was quite the exit, killed miles away from home, then thrown in a shallow grave where no one would ever look for him. All because he had fallen for the wrong woman. Again.

He sat on the edge of the small, uncomfortable bed, and dropped his head in his hands. That was not how it was supposed to go. Things had taken such an unpredictable turn in such a short span of time he could hardly believe it. Some part of him expected to wake up in his bed, in his house in Small Heath, and find out that all of that had been nothing more than a strange dream. He wondered when and how his family would receive the news. If they’d receive the news, or they’d be left to come to their own conclusions. If they’d grieve him, or only grieve the things he wouldn’t be get to give them anymore.

How foolish had been of him, to think he could have a chance at happiness. To think he could find someone whose mere presence seemed to heal the most wounded parts of his soul and keep them. Maybe what Campbell had said to him a few months before was true. Men like him weren’t meant to be loved.

The sound of keys hitting the lock startled him from his musings. His head snapped towards the door, heart racing. He was unarmed, but he could still fight. He was a soldier, for fuck’s sake. And a gangster. He had cheated death more times than he could count, what was one more?

He jumped to his feet, waiting. And it took him more than a moment to realise it wasn’t death who had come for him. It was Nina.

“Nina…”

Before he could say anything, she closed the door behind her and threw herself into his arms, holding him with a strength he had never imagined she could possess. He promptly wrapped his arms around her, burying his nose into her hair, her scent soothing his frayed nerves. She was there. She had come for him. He tightened his grip around her, scared that she was only a figment of his imagination, that she would slip away and disappear at any moment.

“Are you alright?” she asked, pulling away just enough to check. She cradled his face in her hands, frowning as she got a glimpse of the cut above his eyebrow.

“I’m fine, love,” he reassured her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, lowering her gaze. “I’m so sorry, this is all my fault.”

Tommy’s heart clenched in his chest. “Hey, look at me,” he said hoarsely, running his fingers through her raven hair away to move it away from her face. He gently took ahold of her chin, his thumb ghosting over her split lip. “Look at me. I don’t regret anything. You hear me? No regrets. You have nothing to be sorry about.”

Nina put her hand on his, then brought it to her lips to place a tender kiss on it. “We need to talk,” she murmured, and sent a quick glance towards the door. “But we need to be quick.”

Tommy swallowed hard, feeling the muscles in his back growing tense. He had to remind himself that yes, Nina was there, but that didn’t mean they were safe, not yet. “Go on.”

“The peace will stand. My father and Pietro are planning to make us get married in secret,” she explained, a hint of nervousness in her voice. “Then they’ll send us away. By the time my uncle finds out, it’ll be too late.”

He nodded, taking in her words. He should’ve felt relieved - and he did, to some extent -, but there was a doubt, a fear that stung at the back of his mind like a thorn by his side. Was it what she wanted? He wanted it, he knew it, and he had told her more than once. But she had never expressed the same wish. Not openly, at least.

She must’ve noticed the way he had wavered, because something changed in her expression. “If…” she paused, uncertainty flashing across her face. “If that’s what you want.”

Tommy quirked an eyebrow, tilting his head. “Well, it’s marriage or death, eh?”

Nina inhaled deeply, averting her gaze.

“Nothing has changed for me, Nina,” he said softly. “I’m just worried that this might not be what you want.”

She jerked her head up, shooting him a disbelieving look. “What part of ‘I’m yours’ did you not get?” she reminded him of what she had said to him the previous morning.

Tommy couldn’t help the grin growing on his face, a warmth he only felt with her spreading in his chest. Leaning in, he pressed a kiss on her lips. God, he had been wanting to do that since she had walked through that door.

“Tommy, wait,” she stuttered, gently pushing him away.

He looked at her in confusion. What, now?

“There’s something I need to tell you before we go through with this,” she said, taking a step back. “I mean, it’s not like we have much choice at this point, but still...” She sighed, searching for the right words. “You… you need to know. I don’t want you to jump into-”

“Nina, just speak,” he said firmly, putting an end to her rant.

“I don’t want children,” she blurted out. “I mean, I don’t want them now. Maybe that will change, maybe it won’t. But there’s a chance it won’t change, and you need to know.”

Tommy blinked, a frown making its way on his face. That was what worried her that much? He already knew. She had never put it in those words, but from the things she had said to him in the past, he had imagined it. And it wasn’t that big of a deal, for him. “It’s alright. We can wait until you’re ready.”

“What if it’s never?”

“Then we won’t have them, we’ll be careful,” he assured her. He let out a sigh, putting his hands on her shoulders. “Nina I want you. Fuck the rest. I love you. You don’t have to say it back, but I want you to know.”

Something unreadable flashed across her eyes, and he wondered whether he had made a mistake, by telling her. But he couldn’t keep it to himself anymore, he had to say it, cause had been eating at him for days. And she needed to know that what they were about to do wasn’t for nothing.

A soft knock on the door interrupted them. Nina glanced behind her. “I need to go,” she whispered, giving him a quick peck on the lips. A bitter disappointment filled his heart. He didn’t want her to go just yet. And a part of him had truly hoped she’d say it back to him.

When Nina walked away from him, she brought with her the warmth that had engulfed him, and he was left feeling almost cold, despite being in the middle of the summer. Before she walked out the door, she turned to face him, as if she had just remembered something. “Winston’s coming with us,” she stated in a tone that brooked no argument.

A throaty chuckle escaped his lips. “Yeah, Winston’s coming with us.”

She smiled in satisfaction, moving to walk out. Then she stopped again, turning to him one last time. “And Tommy?”

“What?”

“I love you too.”

Having placed the last of her bags in the hallway, Nina took one last look around her bedroom. It had been left almost completely untouched, she didn’t have the time nor the space to take all of her stuff with her. Her desk was still scattered with papers and notebooks, her favourite candle was still resting on the bedside table, her dresser was still full of books. Only her diaries had been safely packed in one of her suitcases. Her eyes trailed over all the things her grandmother had hand-painted for her when she was little: the little flowers on the closet, the bluebird on a corner above the door, the ivy on the side of the dresser. She couldn’t believe she was about to leave it all behind. The place that had watched her grow up, play, fight. The place that she had hated, cursed, that she had so desperately wanted to flee from. The place that would always have a part of her soul, despite everything.

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to turn the light off and walk out the door. It was past midnight. It was almost time.

The door of Salvatore’s bedroom was open. They hadn’t talked since the previous night. He had been avoiding her on purpose, ignoring her questions, pretending not to see her, changing room whenever she walked in. She didn’t even know if he’d attend the wedding.

Gathering her courage, she peered into his room. He was facing the window, adding cufflinks to his pristine white shirt. From the way his back stiffened, she could tell he knew she was there, but he didn’t turn around, nor did he utter a single word.

After a moment of hesitation, she spoke. “Are you coming to the church?”

No answer.

She cleared her throat, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Is that a no, or…” she trailed off, fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve.

Again, no answer.

“You’re still so angry with me you won’t even say goodbye?”

Salvatore’s movements came to a halt. He slightly turned his head, looking at her from the corner of his eye, and a muscle twitched in his jaw. For a moment, Nina thought her words might’ve gotten through him. But he didn’t face her. Instead, he walked over to a jacket laying on the chair in front of the desk, and started fumbling in one of the pockets. She frowned, watching as he took something she couldn’t see out of it. As he then approached her with slow steps, she couldn’t help but tense.

Salvatore had become unpredictable, over the past couple of years. He had always had a temper, but the war seemed to have taken it to the extreme, turning his anger into a dormant beast, ready to bite and devour at the slightest trigger. A part of her felt guilty for even thinking that he could ever do something to her. But she hadn’t forgotten the way he had tried to hit her the day before, and the spiteful look in his eyes as he dug his fingers in her arm.

However, there was nothing menacing in his demeanour when he stopped in front of her. He stood tall, proud as usual, but there was a hint of sorrow on his scarred face.

“I know you stole a knife from me a few years ago, and I know you always carry it with you,” he revealed, his lips curving in a grin. “But I thought you should have something more…”, he paused, searching for the right word. “…suitable.”

Nina immediately recognised the switchblade. She knew well the intricate design of its bone handle, the roses painted on it. The family knife. All the men of the family had it. Her father, her brothers, her uncles, her cousins. She carefully grabbed it, turning it in her hand. Its lightness was impressive. She flicked it open in one swift motion, pleased by how easy it was to handle. She read the incisions on the blade. Che la mia ferita sia mortale on one side (May my wound be lethal). Ferrante on the other.

“You don’t forget who you are,” he said, his tone grave. “In less than twenty-four hours you’ll have his surname, but you’ll always be a Ferrante.”

Nina closed the knife, raising her gaze on her brother. For a split second, she got a glimpse of the boy he used to be. The loud boy who bothered her, who pushed her around, who found many different ways to make her angry. And she could swear his eyes were glistening with unshed tears.

Suddenly, he pulled her to him in a harsh, tight hug, and at first she had no idea how to respond. Her family, including herself, had never been too physical, and they often felt awkward when it came to displaying affection. Yet, it didn’t take her long to warm up. She wrapped her arms around him, hiding her face in his shirt. They’d never gotten particularly along, they’d had a considerable number of fights and disagreements, but he was still her brother, and she would miss him. She would miss him so much.

He placed a kiss on the top of her head. “Si ti tratta mali, iu vegnu e cci rumpu li gammi.” (If he hurts you, I’ll come break his legs.)

The small church smelled of incense, wood and stale beeswax. The pale, timid rays of dawn filtered though the stained glass, eerily falling on the crucifix statue at the rear of the altar. Christ’s tortured face was the only thing Nina could focus on as the priest’s voice reverberated through the stone walls. From where she was kneeling next to Tommy, he seemed to be staring right into her soul.

Her family was standing on the side, and by the looks on their faces, the function looked more like a funeral rather than a marriage. Her father’s expression was a mixture of pain and shame, her brothers were stoic, and as for her mother, she didn’t have the slightest intention to make an effort to hide her discontent. Maria had always wished for her daughter a beautiful wedding gown, a church full of flowers and candles, solemn music. Instead, she got nothing but a short, hurried ceremony. No readings, no elaborate vows. Just a quick ‘yes’, the bare minimum to fix her situation. Then she’d be gone.

Vincenzo Ferrante had taken care of everything. He had instructed the priest on what was to be done, and made sure the language barrier wouldn’t be a problem. Tommy would just have to express his consent. Then, after the ceremony, a car would bring them to the dock.

Nothing had gone as expected. And the Ferrante family could’ve never imagined that after Tommy Shelby’s arrival, they would never be the same.

As the priest spoke, Nina couldn’t make herself listen to him. The crushing weight of an unknown future was slowly descending on her shoulders, growing heavier with each second that passed, trapping her in its dark, icy grip. Fear had taken root inside her, and it was gradually draining her of every ounce of courage she had left, turning it into a poisonous lymph than ran through her veins, to her heart.

In all that darkness, she found herself praying. Praying that things would turn out fine. Praying that she hadn’t been a fool, by following her heart. Praying that she wasn’t making the biggest mistake of her life. Never before had she so strongly hoped that there was a God listening. Lacking the blind faith of the believer, she didn’t often pray. Yet, right now it was the only thing she could do. But it wasn’t a Father she was turning to. No. She had always thought that if there was a God, it must’ve been a woman. No Father could love so unconditionally, no Father would ever die for his ungrateful children’s sins. It was the kind of sacrifice only a Mother would make. And the act of creation had never belonged to men. So she prayed that good, nurturing Goddess she desperately wanted to believe in to welcome her plea and protect her like a loving mother.

As if sensing her agitation, Tommy subtly brushed his pinky finger against hers. It’ll be alright, he seemed to say. That fleeting contact was enough to bring her back to her senses, but it hardly calmed her rising panic.

When the priest started to ask the questions, her heart began to race. Tommy shifted his gaze on her, but she couldn’t bring herself to do the same. She was afraid that one look in her eyes would be enough for him to know what thoughts were poisoning her mind.

“Thomas Michael Shelby, vuoi accogliere Anna Ferrante come tua sposa nel Signore, promettendo di esserle fedele sempre, nella gioia e nel dolore…” (“Thomas Michael Shelby, do you take Anna Ferrante to be your wife? Do you promise to be faithful to her in good times and in bad…”)

She took a deep breath, trying to escape the fog gathering inside her head.

“Nella salute e nella malattia…” (“In sickness and in health…”)

Marriage. An unbreakable vow. An arrow that, once shot, could never be retreated.

“Di amarla e onorarla tutti i giorni della tua vita?” (“To love her and to honor her all the days of your life?”)

“Sì,” Tommy’s deep voice resounded through the high walls.

She froze, her fears finally gaining the upper hand. Was it what she truly wanted, or just what she thought she wanted? Was she doing the right thing? Would she regret her choice? Was she betraying herself?

“Nina,” Pietro hissed, snapping her out of that whirlwind of thoughts.

Without her even noticing, the priest had asked her the question, and was now waiting for her answer. Everybody was. She gulped, turning to look at Tommy, whose features were now full of apprehension. But she didn’t find the unknown that had scared her so much, in his blue eyes. She found the safety he had made her feel, the love he had shown her through every glance, every word, every touch. Slowly, she let her doubts drift away. She wasn’t scared because she didn’t trust him. She was scared because she had never thought of herself like someone who could be loved, and it felt foreign, and hard to believe.

The words her brother had said to her echoed in her mind. This doesn’t have to be the end.

She bit the inside of her cheek, gathering her courage. It was Tommy, just Tommy. He loved her. She loved him. She could still do the things she wanted to do.

So she said yes.

The land slowly faded into a dark silhouette as the ship sailed farther and farther away. Nina’s eyes strove to hold on to it, refusing to move until it became a black dot, and then disappeared into the distance.

Her heart felt astoundingly lighter.

She leaned against the railing, watching as the light reflected off the crystal water, sparks dancing across the blue expanse of the sea. She had ripped off her roots, mercilessly severing them one by one, and found herself surprised to acknowledge how easy leaving was once she had eradicated herself.

There was just one thing weighing her down. She would never forget the look in her father’s eyes when they said goodbye, or his silence when she asked him if would ever forgive her. In her heart, she knew he’d never be able to look at her the same. Although kept secret, the stain of shame had dried all over her name, and it could never be washed away.

Shame. That word had been following her like a shadow ever since she was a child. She became scared of it before she even knew what it meant. It hung over her head, carrying the terrifying promise of a wretched fate. A four-headed monster whose dreadful eyes watched her every step, waiting for her to fall.

It would have to wait a while longer. Because there were lots of things to be ashamed of, but love was not one of them.

She glanced at Tommy, standing next to her against the railing. Smartly dressed, with his peaky cap on and his gun poking out of his jacket, he looked just like the first time she saw him. She couldn’t notice it in the church, too overwhelmed by her own thoughts. He rubbed a cigarette between his lips, then placed it in his mouth, his gaze lost in thought. Like her, he was probably just processing everything that happened. She wished she could enter inside his mind, only for a moment, to know what was going through it. If, now that they had taken that step, there was any kind of regret taking shape inside it. But when he shifted his blue eyes on her and gave her a playful wink, her worries started to fade. His look was still as full of love as it was in the church.

“You’ve survived my family,” she said, lightly nudging him with her elbow. “Now it’s my turn.”

A wide grin grew on his face, which he concealed by lighting the cigarette. “I think you’ll fit in just fine,” he murmured.

Nina shook her head, her own lips curving in a smile. She wasn’t that scared anymore. The unknown opening in front of her felt more like a chance, rather than a threat, and she was ready to step into it. But there was still a needle digging into her brain, one it would take time for her to get rid of.

“Tommy,” she grabbed his attention, her tone dead serious.

He turned to look at her, his eyebrows twitching slightly as he waited for her to go on.

“I’m trusting you. Don’t make me regret it.”

A/N: We’ve come to the Epilogue of Part 1, and I still can’t believe that over the course of almost one year and a half it became what it became. I wanted to take a moment to thank all of you who have followed Nina’s journey up until now, and those who will continue to follow it in the next parts. To those who have left comments, and asks, and engaged constantly with it. I may often be late with my replies, but I can assure you I remember each one of you. The loved you have showed to this story has been so important for me. A special thanks also goes to my wonderful mutuals, who have joined this mess and shown endless support. And for those of you who will continue to read this, be ready, cause this is far from the ending. I’m so excited to move forward, and I hope you will be, too🤍

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Tommy Shelby tag list

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[deans-baby-momma]

Chapter 5

Summary: When Jensen admits to going home with someone else, will his and Y/N's marriage survive?

Warnings: Angst, heartbreak, smut, language

Y/N rushes out of the bistro, feeling as though she is going to puke. After hearing Athena's side of the story, and knowing the timeline Cliff had given her, it was absolutely possible that her husband was lying after all!

She drives home through the tears blurring her vision and sliding down her face. She can't believe that he would do something like that to her - to them.

But drunk Jensen, or Nesnej, as Jared Jokingly refers to him as when he's drunk, could. And it sounds like Nesnej was in control.

Y/N stumbles into the house and kicks off her shoes before throwing her purse through the room.

“Ugh!” she screams as the sobs come harder. “Lying piece of fucking shit!”

She throws herself on the sofa and lets the sobs take over her.

It is coming up on dusk when Y/N finally pulls herself together enough to get up. The sound of her phone ringing makes her look at the contents of her purse across the floor.

She can see from her spot that it's her husband calling. She lets it ring through to voicemail.

Jensen hangs up his phone and slips it back in his pocket. It wasn't like Y/N to not answer his calls, but maybe she's just busy, he thinks to himself.

He steps out of his trailer, locking the door before heading to join Cliff and Jared and heads home for the weekend.

Cliff drops Jared off first before heading to the house Jensen shares with Y/N. The ride is quiet, except for the podcast that Cliff Is listening to.

“Thanks man,” Jensen speaks up from the backseat of the SUV. “For having my back with Y/N.”

Cliff grunts. “I just told her what I knew.”

“I appreciate it,” the actor replies. “It could've been a lot worse if you hadn't covered for me.”

Cliff hums in response before he goes back to listening to the radio.

Once they pull into the driveway, Jensen becomes worried seeing the house dark, no lights on inside but Y/N's car parked right in front.

“See ya Monday,” Jensen says, exiting the backseat.

Walking inside, the first thing he does is turn the lamp on. He surveys the chaos in confusion. Y/N's purse is on the ground with its contents spilling out across the floor.

He sees her phone laying face down on the floor and picks it up to see the screen shattered, the picture of the both of them fractured into sections.

Jensen begins to worry that maybe they'd been broken into and the burglar had taken her for a ransom.

He looks around for more clues as he hastens forward to the kitchen. There he finds cabinets and drawers open, much like someone had been going through their personal space, looking for something. But what?

He hears a noise coming from the back of the house and he turns slowly, silently heading to the pantry to retrieve the aluminum baseball bat he left there.

Once the weapon is in his grip, he tightens his hold as he proceeds toward the sound.

The closer he gets to their shared bedroom, the better he can make out what he's hearing.

Y/N's crying. He stops and sets the bat down, going to enter the room but when he turns the knob, he is stopped. It's locked.

“Baby? Are you okay?”

“Go away?” She yells but it's muffled.

“What's wrong? Y/N?” Jensen inquires as he put his ear to the door but the barrier is pulled away as she flings it open.

Standing there, her eyes red and puffy with her face full of dried tear tracks and new ones falling breaks his heart.

“You lied!” she spat. “You told me you didn't fuck her but there's a baby in her. An Ackles baby!”

“Baby, I told you. I didn't fu- Y/N I thought you believed me? Jared and Cliff even backed me up.”

“Or they lied for you! You probably gave them all the juicy details about fucking a young girl and then asked them to cover for you.”

Jensen stood there in shock. He thought they had gotten through this, that Y/N believed him and was on his side.

“There was no juicy det-” he begins and then pauses with a sigh. “-How many times do I have to tell you that you're the only one for me? What brought this on?” He asked gently, trying to calm her down.

“I saw her today. Athena. She and a group of her friends came into Sylvie's. She was bragging about it. And had some very accurate descriptions for someone who had supposedly never been with you.”

“Y/N, I swear.” Jensen said, pleading. “I've only been with you.”

“Somehow, I don't believe you’” Y/N cries before turning back to the bed, where her suitcase lays open, half packed. “I'm going to Candy's for a few days. I can't be around you right now.”

Jensen seethes as he stands in the doorway. “Fine! You don't believe that I didn't fuck her? You want to think I'd throw all of this away for a cheap piece of ass? Go ahead. I am done trying to prove to you that I've been loyal since we began dating.”

He storms down the hallway and out the backdoor where he flops down on one of the Adirondack chairs overlooking the natural landscape of the territory.

He reaches into the waterproof chest and pulls out the pack of cigarettes and lighter he had stored in there.

Jensen only ever partakes of this habit when he's either really drunk -like really drunk- or when he's wound up.

He inhales and slowly blows the puff of smoke through his lips. He sits there trying to contemplate how to get through to Y/N.

His wife, his biggest supporter and best friend; the person who is supposed to have his back and stand by him is in doubt about him.

He leans back and looks up at the darkening Vancouver sky as he wishes he could go back and change everything about that night.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Whatever she said had all three of them turning to look my way.

Preview for next chapter: Walking toward her, I could tell when she realized I was heading her way. Her eyes widened and she turned to her friends, a big smile on her face.

"Hi. I'm Jensen.”

“I know who you are,” she told me, suddenly confident. “I have been a fan for years. I actually have a Radio Company album at home. Was hoping to get a signed copy but wasn't one of the lucky ones.”

“Well that just won't do,” I said to her with a smile. “Do you live far from here?”

“Close enough.”

Tagging: @spnbaby-67 @sea040561 @delightfullykrispypeach @larajadeschmidt13 @atc74 @vicariouslythruspn @squirrelnotsam   @ironreviewangel @blacktithe7 @hoboal87 @mogaruke @supraveng @lyarr24 @kazsrm67 @chriszgirl92 @deanwithscissors @raisinggray @fanfic-n-tabulous @hobby27 @stoneyggirl2 @purpleeclipseeggsland @kmc1989 @leigh70 @nancymcl @muhahaha303 @justwhisperingfantasies @jackles010378 @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @deanna45 @ozwriterchick @mandee73 @spnaquakindgdom @impala67rollingthroughtown @generalmoonpolice @1313diana @roseblue373 @palerogue1 @deansimpalababy @queen-cs

[m4ndysk4nkovich]

i just thought about season 1 ian seeing season 11 (or 4) ian and now i’m fucking sobbing i’m going to need 5 to 10 business days to recover from this

[magicpiano]

AU where Tucker Foley (Danny Phantom) and Richie Foley (Static Shock) are cousins.

[funsizedshark]

pacing around in circles muttering to myself about daniel and louis and the years between the first interview and now...... daniel telling armand "he didn't even want me in the end" after offering to get on his knees for him instead... they didn't fuck but for decades "i really thought we did" / "do you want to now?"... daniel is old and dying in a penthouse full of impossibly young beautiful immortal beings and louis still laughingly offers something that daniel thought for years he'd gotten already. and then it turns out that not only he didn't, but something in him had assumed they did have sex and never explored that further and he's gone through this entire second interview so far under that assumption because that bridge has been crossed already. except it hadn't and when louis says "do you want to now" you can see the change in his expression like for the briefest of moments he really is considering it

[whogirl42]

Is it bad that my first thought after total shock seeing that Alicole scene was man, that'll be great to use for Rhaenicent manips?

[13eyond13]

actually stunned by how gay The Beatles has been all this time and I just never knew

[elisedonut]

i love using soulmate aus as a way to just like force characters together that i think personality wise would work but situation wise just would never happen

because even without romance it creates an almost instant connection or at least for characters that would care about having one like Percy

and he is 90% what i think about so uh yeah

and i have also been toying in my head about the idea of finding your soulmate really young being seen as a bit of a bad omen because the world wants you to find them at like “the right time” so to speak 

normally that relating to like maturity and life experience 

but also wanting you to meet at all and stuff so finding each other extremely young or when the soulmates in question are very obviously not ready would be like a sign of death of the world going 

“oh no oh fuck you have a high chance of dying im going to push you together”

anyway this is just a starter for the idea of Percy finding his soulmate stupid young because he would be in the house with his uncles when they die and as such having a high chance of dying himself and just manages to make it 

[jrueships]

the mayor of turkey trying to get people to vote alpey for Allstar 😭😭

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ me & my husband ]❜

ft. the salesman (gong ji-cheol) x f! reader — squid game

��₊✧ you don’t need your husband to be perfect, you just want him to be honest┊3.3k words; part two (here)

contains: written before s2 came out!! probably ooc or inaccurate, angst with spots of fluff & a bittersweet ending? reader’s pov mostly, suspicions of cheating, lack of communication, mentioned age gap, random inaccurate lore for the salesman

➤ author's note: yeah, i saw the sudden uptick in notes on that gong yoo post i made and realized season 2 came out which i completely forgot about. i intend to watch it soon as possible and write fics for it as well as (probably) add new characters to my writing list, but for now, please be content with this!!

₊˚ʚ 💌₊˚✧ this fic was heavily inspired by “emotionally intoxicated” by aurasaurora!

gong ji-cheol is the poster image for the ideal husband. he’s always been like that from the moment you met him, and you can’t help but feel like you’re the luckiest woman in the world when he calls himself yours. he’s tall and handsome, someone who catches everyone’s eye despite his only being focused on you. he’s wealthy and hard-working, able to call a luxurious mansion your home, and willing to buy you anything your heart desires as long as you ask for it. he spoils you rotten with that money, gifting you expensive things even if you didn’t ask if it reminded him of you. he’s doting, always sure to smother you in affection with kisses and cuddles whenever together to make it known how much he adores you. the sex is great too, he makes you feel wanted and desirable without ever leaving you unsatisfied. 

most importantly though, you love him, and he loves you. the last two years of marriage have been so blissful, and there isn’t a single thing you would change.

at least that’s what you believe most of the time.

you like to think you know a lot about him, and in a way, you do. you know his favorite color, how he likes his coffee, what he usually orders at restaurants, the type of wine he prefers over beer, the exaggerated shocked fasces he likes to make, how his favorite chore is folding the laundry, how his least favorite is doing the dishes because he doesn’t like getting his hands dirty, the name of his childhood pet, what positions he likes to cuddle or fuck in, the names he’s thinking of giving to your child when they are finally born— there are so many little details you know about him, yet at times you feel like you don't know anything at all.

you don’t really know much about his childhood aside from a few random stories, he claims there’s nothing really notable and that it was as standard as can be. you don’t know who his parents were or what they were like because he said they died when he was young, but surely that’s an important loss which must have impacted him and made youth difficult in some way? you don’t know about his past partners if he even had any, but you doubt you were his first as he was yours with a face like his. you don’t know any of his secrets, like an embarrassing moment or something sinful he might have committed in the past. 

he knew all of these things about you and the little details of your life, so why don’t you know any of the most basic things regarding your own husband?

these periods of uncertainty are few and far, but once the icy tendrils of doubt creep in, it’s difficult to shake them off when you realize you only know these things through observations and not him actually telling you. it’s a miracle your stupidity allowed you to make it this far in falling head over heels for him, getting married, and carrying his child (not that you completely regret it, you still love him, but you wish you had given it more time).

they say there are no such things as stupid questions, yet the main question you have is exactly that as it’s something every wife should know even before the marriage. it would be impressive how long you’ve been clueless about this matter if it weren’t for how often and how skilled he is in managing to evade your curiosity and steer the conversation elsewhere. you didn’t want to press on it since he seems to shut it down every time the topic is brought up and you don’t want to fight over something you technically didn’t need to know, but it weighs on you and presses into your chest with the knowledge you were being kept in the dark. 

what did your husband do for a living, exactly?

his schedule is always unpredictably changing with little rhyme or reason and it confuses you. sometimes you’ll go an entire few days without seeing him, sensing him wake up in the morning before the sun is even up, feeling him kiss you on the cheek before getting ready, and not coming back until long after you fall asleep with no communication aside from a note on the table telling you he’ll be gone for the day along with a wad of cash for you to treat yourself while he’s gone. other times he’ll be chilling at home for an entire week, waking you up with aggressive cuddles (or morning sex), making you breakfast with the morning news on in the background, and taking you out to wherever you want to go on his card in his rare casual clothing and messy wavy hair rather than the typical fancy suits and hair styled with gel. 

as far as you’re concerned, he’s a businessman of sorts, although you don’t know what company he works for or what position he has in terms of hierarchy or how an occupation of that type allows such flexibility in hours or anything at all. 

“what if he’s having an affair?”

you paused for a second before continuing the motion of slicing the cheesecake with a fork and savoring the taste in your mouth. “that’s ridiculous,” you stated simply after swallowing. “he loves me very much, and it doesn’t explain his weird schedule either.”

today was spent with some friends you met back in high school, but honestly, you were only attending out of politeness and tradition since you honestly feel like you’ve disconnected from these girls long before the current. still, you treasure the memories shared in your more formative years and wouldn’t ever say no to them if they wanted to hang out like old times. ji-cheol doesn’t bother to hide his distaste for them, calling them a miserable lot who try to drag you down at every opportunity out of jealousy for your happiness. you laugh it off, but you know deep down he’s right and yet you’re still sitting here at the cafe with them with bright smiles like their words don’t cut deep. 

“maybe he’s dating the boss— a sexy office siren type— she gives him plenty of days off and he stays with her at her beach house at jeju island or something to keep her company, and then she gives him lots of money in exchange.”

“oh my god, could you imagine?”

“can you be realistic? it sounds like you’re just writing a plot for a new drama,” you giggled, not allowing the feeling of a twisting blade in your abdomen to show on your face or the venom to drip from your words at the mere thought of the man you loved being stolen away a faceless woman who was everything you wished you were more of: more beautiful, more wealthy, more experienced, more intelligent—

“you don’t know because he’s your first love or whatever— and you’re so lucky to have been able to marry him— but men are dogs, and i don’t see why he would be the exception.”

“but he treats me so well—”

“maybe he only treats you well because you’re pregnant— he probably just feels guilty. i mean, when i was pregnant and had my first, my husband wasn’t attracted to me anymore and demanded a divorce unless i lost the baby weight.” she shrugged like it was so simple, so common, like the notion of marriage wasn’t something so deeply important and could be thrown away so easily.

“we aren’t suggesting you get a divorce, but we’re just saying you should keep an eye on him— you know? a handsome guy like him was always bound to get a lot of attention…” her laugh was shrill and high-pitched, making goosebumps erupt on your skin.

“right… thanks guys…”

that night, you couldn’t stop twisting and turning on the large sectional couch with thoughts rushing through your head of your husband with some other woman. the jealousy from these fictional scenarios without evidence of existence plagued you. it made you want to vomit up the negative feelings and go back to the person you were a few hours ago without the images of him cheating planted in your mind, which didn’t go unnoticed by him and caused him to ask what was bothering you as it wouldn't be good for the baby.

you hesitated for a moment, “could you tell me about your exes?”

“why are you suddenly curious about that?” he chuckled, knowing damn well that it was because of those stupid snakes masquerading as people (it truly takes one to know one) running their mouths again, but still feigning obliviousness for your sake. 

“just wondering,” you muttered. “i mean, you’re the first person i’ve fallen in love with, but you’re a bit older than me so…”

“and i hope to be the only one too,” he smirked confidently, making you laugh as he plopped down on the ground and rested his head on the cushion next to yours. 

it was such a casual setting in such a vast space, bringing you back to the days in your little apartment inviting him over for chicken and beer before you knew about your immense wealth and got embarrassed over your cheap dates when he was so used to expensive restaurants. he found it very endearing though, knowing you liked him for him and not his money.

“well, if you’re so curious…” he trailed off, but you weren’t quite sure if it was because of hesitation or because he simply didn’t know where to start. you can’t remember the last time a conversation like this was held to learn more about him since it was usually about you, maybe back when you first started dating and briefly discussed his late parents.

he started with his crush when he was in middle school since that was his earliest recollection of feeling love, who didn’t really count as a girlfriend or love because nothing was established and because of their age, but she was his first kiss that he ran away from right after because of how nervous he was, and it was never addressed again. apparently it was his second girlfriend who taught him everything he knew before he met you, saying she basically “trained him like a dog” to create a gentleman out of an inexperienced boy who still wasn’t quite sure how to treat a woman like a queen. she was a bit mean though, and he didn’t realize he dodged a bullet until later after realizing she was unnecessarily cruel to him for no reason multiple times if he didn’t do things exactly her way.

you suppose you always knew your husband wasn’t always the suave charmer you know him to be, but the image of younger him being clueless on matters of romance made you burst out laughing because of how you could hardly picture it.

he reached over to pinch your cheek affectionately, “are you of all people really making fun of me when you were too scared to hold my hand for me to escort you out of my car?”

“oh my god, that was on our first date, i can’t be blamed! i was shaking like crazy on that day— you had to tell me that you didn’t bite.”

“i was actually thinking about calling off our date last minute because of an emergency at work,” he confessed, “but i’m glad i didn’t and met the love of my life instead.”

“aw, you flirt.” the memory made you smile and feel all giggly inside, all the fears you had about him possibly having an affair falling away, yet there were still some lingering at the back of your mind with the mention of his job. “what happened at work?”

“nothing that important,” he said instantly like clockwork. “just some boring business things.”

you didn’t push it, not wanting to ruin the mood, but once again, your curiosity was just itching to ask more questions about his work life even if it was truly as boring as he says. you wanted to know every mundane detail whether it was what his office looked like or what the annoying co-worker did on a daily basis, anything to satiate your need to know more about this mysterious man you had made life-long vows with.

it all came to a head one night while you were cooking dinner, you heard the doorbell ring a dozen times in quick succession and answered it to find an older man with fiery red hair that seemed to match his temper. when he addressed your husband by name and verified your relationship with him, he began spewing all kinds of insults about the blood he had on his hands by luring innocent people to their deaths and you felt your heart drop. you tried to reason with him that there must have been some sort of mistake, barely able to get your words out in a fit of confusion and surprise at the absurd accusation, but he wouldn’t hear you out and pointed a finger in your face, asking if you had any idea what gong ji-cheol was doing behind your back. 

at that very moment, he was suddenly seized by two anonymous men in all black, causing him to yell out in panic as they dragged him away and stuffed him in the back of a car before quickly driving off into the night without a trace. it all happened so fast, you just stood there with your mouth open in shock, wondering if you should call the police on what looked like an abduction. 

then your husband comes running up the steps with his locked briefcase in hand, shouting out your name, asking you if you’re okay, pulling you back inside the comfort of your shared home, and checking you all over to make sure you aren’t harmed in any way. when you ask about who that man was and what he was talking about, he simply told you he was some crazy customer who was dissatisfied with the company, was looking for someone to blame, and promised to tell you the details later. 

you didn’t tell him that you didn’t believe him, just pursed your lips and furrowed your brow for a second then let go of the topic like you always do, taking his coat off his shoulders with a peck on the lips asking how his day was. he reciprocated the kiss, said it was fine without anything special, and that he would shower before having dinner, something he didn’t really need to say since you already knew but stated anyway as per evening routine. 

as he headed up the stairs and disappeared from sight, you stared at the locked briefcase resting crookedly on the little entryway table and paused for a moment. if you did this, it would be a breach of privacy and a sign of growing distrust in your husband, but it could also answer all of the questions that never cease. 

your hands wouldn’t stop shaking involuntarily as you felt the cold black metal underneath your fingertips, marveling at the smooth material clean of any scratches or dents. fidgeting with the built-in combination lock, six number sequences started rushing through your mind as you started to hastily run through your options with a focus on dates. you were determined to only do this three times since you had no idea if an alarm would be set off or if it would close off permanently.

his birthday?

an electronic beep went off indicating you were incorrect, making you nervous.

your birthday?

wrong again, you only had one attempt left. you swallowed, shaking the accumulating sweat off your hands.

the date of your wedding?

you gasped as the locks suddenly flipped open and lightly knocked against the briefcase. it was undone, you could open it at any moment now and see it all.

and yet you still hesitated during this golden opportunity. was it the fact that the passcode to his most secret possession was the day you got married? was it guilt for going behind your husband’s back for answers instead of directly asking him? was it because you were afraid of what you would find if you discovered the red-haired man was telling the truth?

whatever it was, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and locked it again, leaving it looking untouched and went back to playing dinner.

there was a heavy tension present at the dinner table that night, the only conversation present being him interrogating you about what the red-haired man talked about word-for-word. not really interrogating since his tone of voice was still calm and gentle as he asked questions, but you could see him fidgeting with his fork and not leaving much room for any other topic until he was sure you told him everything. he then sighed and claimed the man was insane, a gambling addict who was too deep in debt to afford treatment and was trying to drag him into his misery after meeting at the subway station. 

“ji-cheol?”

he froze for a second, not used to hearing you use his real name rather than a pet name. “yes?”

“what do you do for a living, exactly?”

a pause, you watched him fidget with his chopsticks and shift the grains of rice around. “you know, business stuff— nothing you need to concern yourself about—“

“but i don’t know! that’s the thing!” you felt tears starting to well up behind your eyes, letting two years of frustration trickle through. “i know it doesn’t seem that important for me to know, but is it really so important that you leave me in the dark about it for the three years we’ve been lovers? and now some guy comes to our doorstep and tells me about how your job is playing games with people at the subway station to make them participate in death games?!” you took a deep breath, calming yourself down, “please, be honest with me, that’s all i want…”

“i-i…” that was the first time you’ve ever heard him stutter, and if the situation wasn’t so tense, you would be proud you finally got one-up on him. “i can’t say… it’s for your own safety and mine.”

“so he was right?”

he remained silent, trying to think of some way to counter what seong gi-hun had told you, but if you didn’t believe the elaborate lie he already told you and wanted to learn more, then he knew this was the end of the road. 

“i-i need some time to think…” you looked defeated and it broke his heart. “i’m going to my mom’s house tonight, i’ll be back tomorrow—“ you got up, not bothering to pack anything aside from your phone and your wallet.

he had prepared for you to start screaming and crying (not that he would blame you, i mean, who would willingly stay with a man who was complicit in mass murder), demanding a divorce and packing your things to shut the door for him never to be seen again with your unborn child. the strangely calm reaction was both a relief and extremely unsettling to him.

“i won’t be mad if you decide not to come back” he stated plainly, defeated in a state you’ve never seen him in before. “whatever choice you make, i’ll support you, just know i love you— more than anything else in this world.”

you stared at him blankly through the open doorway. perhaps your husband isn’t the perfect man you believed him to be, but he was as honest as he possibly could have been with you regarding the matter, and that’s enough. 

“i love you too, i’ll be back in the morning.” that’s how you feel at the moment, but you don’t know if you’ll feel the same way tomorrow morning when it sinks in.

[tonycries]

The Family Matter?!

Synopsis. Babyfevér - it’s never felt so good.

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

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, breéding, mentions of kids/ marriage, a LOT of creampíes, Gojo’s powers, cúmplay (like a lot), spítting, overstím, exhíbitionism (Geto’s), chokíng Nanami, pússy-slappíng, proposals, rúts (Choso), bíting, true form! Sukuna, overspill, dp, bondagé, mentions of dàddy kínk, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.9k

A/N. To the one anon that wanted this - how did you read my mind?? Hope y’all have a lovely week <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Santa, baby…

“B-but- Christmas isn’t for another few months, Toji—”

Now, Toji has to admit - that broken, honeyed-out little drag of his name is enough to crack even that tough demeanor of his - just a bit. And it’s all he can do to calm down the raging twitch of his buried cock, driving it deeper and deeper against your mushy g-spot to shut up those dangerous moans of yours. 

“B-b-but-” You’re flinching when his deep, baritone voice pitches dramatically high to mock your own, a large palm coming down to give your poor clit a branding smack! “-but, you think that’s gonna stop me, ma?”

Stupidly, you’re whirling your dazed eyes over your shoulder to catch his, only for the calloused pads of his fingers to swiftly force your face back down. 

“Not me, you don’t get to hah- look at me just yet, doll.” Toji grits out from behind you, feverish puffs of breath sending goosebumps down your spine. Down to where your puffy cunt was just bulging with all long, solid inches of his swollen, overworked cock. Sloppy. Overspilling. “Not until you’re giving me another brat by Christmas.” 

A sob wrenches out of you when Toji jostles his sharp hips against yours. Harder, until you could feel every minute smack of his still-full, sensitive balls, every slosh of his syrupy sticky cum coating your walls from earlier. 

“Look.” 

You’re shaking your head in almost-bratty protest, the fat of your ass still pushing and pulling against his rugged thrusts. You feel like you could go insane if you saw any more. Thighs twitching to a shy close, “Ngh- can’t s’too- too much.”

This only pulls out a displeased growl from your pussydrunk boyfriend, rasping out a warning. “No fuck-  don’t you fucking dare-” Big, beefy hands wrench your legs even farther apart to admire the mess he’s made, bruising where he holds them unable to escape. “Don’t you even think of it, woman.”

It’s accompanied by another harsh slap! on your puffed-up clit, this time harder than the last. Shocking you to your heated core until you’re seeing stars behind your eyes, already-ruined cunt just clenching in painful pleasure. 

He laughs - laughs, “Instead of squeezin’ the fucking soul outta me, look here at how you’re wastin’ my cum. How can I make you a momma in time like this, huh?” 

You’re blinking away those big, fat globs of tears to finally spy back down again at your drooling cunt. Swollen folds spread shamefully, gaping. Every slam of his hips makes you gush down his achy shaft with a gloss of your sweet sweet juice and his own cum. It splays in a creamy little puddle at your silken sheets, clinging to your bodies like a second, sloppy skin. “Y-you’re so filthy, Toji.”

But Toji couldn’t bring himself to be disgusted - not one bit. In fact, he could feel the tip of his angry head growing even fatter, expanding to meld its way deep into your elastic walls.

“Filthy, huh?” he chuckles so darkly. “Got such a mouth on ya, can already tell you’re gonna be a ah- strict momma.” His fingers are prying your jaw to sag open, whispering so slow and syrupy along your open mouth, “Well, let me tell you a little secret, ma. Doesn’t matter what you call me now, because in about nine months you’ll be calling me something else.”

“And what would- mmpf!” Oh, for how much he loved your sharp mouth, he sure was well and fully intent on shutting you up. Toji’s hitting his cock at the back of your pussy, just mashing deep into your g-spot in sinful sync. Over and over. “-and what would that be?”

Another finalizing smack to your pulsing clit, so smug and messy. He tilts his head to that growing pool below you, splurging farther and farther with each decisive, feral ram. “Your baby daddy, that’s what.” 

As if on cue, you’re cumming - you can’t even remember which saccharine sweet high of the night, but all you know is Toji’s gifting your gummy cunt with a few bullying kisses on your ravaged g-spot. Rough, lingering clashes of his weepy tip on your ravaged g-spot, sending your toes curling, white-hot shocks of pleasure. Again and again and again-

“Fuck- fuuuck yeah take it.” he’s grunting out hoarsely, hips stuttering and so so feral. Barely having the sanity to pull out in his jagged half-thrusts, splitting you apart on all his weighty length to cum inside you - deep.

Painting each and every inch of your heavenly cunt that could be reached with coat after coat of velvety white - all the way from where he was gliding his fat tip across your cervix, down, down, down to your sensitive spots, your sopping wide opening. “Want- need it so bad. Need ya to make me a daddy again. So fuckin’ bad you have no idea- you’d be fuckin’ scared.”

Those mean fingers smushing your cheeks into an embarrassing pout dance down to gather the dredges of his own cum, oozing out of the corners of your slit in a milky white sheen. Still rutting into you, he suckles on them languidly like his favorite candy, “Mmpf- as sweet as ever, doll.”

“Y-you’re so fuckin’ mean, Toji-” your jaw slacks open at his lewd actions. “Our kid better not get such an- hah- an awful personality.”

That makes him pause - it makes him pull away his digits, glistening and connected with stringy ropes of the mess he’s made. Grinning for just  a split-second before shoving the entire length of his fingers into your plush mouth. 

Toji huffs cockily, the rounded tips of his fingers swirl around and around your lolling tongue, addicting you onto the slighty-salted taste. “Our daughter will be lucky to hngh- get my personality n’ your pretty looks.” And you’re barely even lucid when he’s whispering into your sweat-sheened forehead, “So you better give me good news for Christmas this year, ma.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - “Take it, like a good lil’ wife.”

Your mouth is sagging open at Nanami’s uncharacteristically gritted words. So hoarse, pained - like they were dragged out of his raggedly heaving chest with each bullying ram of his hips. 

It was barely midway into the evening, and you had no clue how you ended up like this. How those fleeting little titters during your romantic at-home dinner date about kids wound up with Nanami splayed on his broad back on the soft silken sheets. Sculpted abs curving into your back when he nuzzles your neck, plowing his furiously hard cock in his favorite mean full nelson.

“Ha- you’re being so-” you’re gasping out in a wet stutter, ass grinding back onto those neat lanes of blond at his thick base. He’s spearheading you so- “-so mean, Ken.”

“Am, I?” he’s purring, a low rumbling growl from the bottom of his chest. “Well, I might be the stricter parent, that’s right.”

Rolled-up sleeves graze against your heated skin, and you could feel every ridge of the veins along his forearms when he spreads your dangling legs even wider. Jutting his hips so deeply upwards to bow your body to the throbbing curve of his dick. “But, I apologize, darling.” Neat rows of his pearly white teeth sink down on your earlobe, “Feel free to do something- anything about it. Because m’afraid I won’t be able to stop any time soon.”

It was a promise - just the clingy feeling of your walls molding and wetting according to his very shape has him losing his mind. His sanity.

Choking back a long, drawn-out groan when two thick fingers slide down to roll over your puffy clit, “Fuuuck, my love, you’re so- hngh perfect like this.” The bed creaks in protest when his powerful thighs arch even higher upwards, all those hours at the gym paying off when every frenzied mash into the bulging treasure of your g-spot makes your mouth water. He breathes into the intimate crook of your neck, “Though, I bet you’d look even prettier as a momma, right?”

Somehow, that makes your face burn more than being split apart on his relentless cock has. 

“Oh- shit.” you whine, fucking your hips back in a sloppy little staccato. Reaching your trembly arm around his strong neck, your fingers find his favorite speckled yellow tie. Yanking until Nanami’s stern lips in a syrupy sweet kiss. “Really wan’ you to hah- breed me, Ken.”

“Fuck- Oh yeah?” he gasps. And if you didn’t know any better then you’d have said that that came out as a fucking whine. The ever-stoic Nanami Kento crumbling bit by bit with each rummaging thrust to shape your gummy walls. “Then why’d it fuck- take so long. Fuck, I’ve been dreaming of this since the ah- day I met you, my girl.”

Sharp hips dig into the plush of your ass with each pivot, it’s bouncing you back and forth along his slobbering cock. So rough. So tall and angry, you’re hit with a steaming hot gush of milky precum every time Nanami’s sliding out of you up to his thick, girthy tip. 

“Been thinking about you and I- and a little one. A few, actually. One blonde with your eyes, the other two with mine and your gorgeous smile.” That sweet little admission has your twitchy fingers subconsciously dragging at the heavy fabric of his tie. Tight around Nanami’s straining neck, making his head light and cock twitch wildly to draw little patterns on your cervix. “Fuck! Fuck no- keep pullin’ like that, darling.” 

You could feel his raw length rub against sensitive sports you never even knew felt good, in sync with that wandering free-hand of his. Now dancing upwards to glide his touchy thumb over your bouncing tits. “K-Ken, m’so close.”

“How pretty these would look all full of milk, darling.” he muses, sounding more like he’s speaking to himself than anything. Your knees are buckling now, cunt eagerly taking in every powerfully pressurized thrust of his. But Nanami hasn’t had enough of his fill, feeling a burning trail down your arching body. Down the valley of your breasts, your stomach, “And here- where m’gonna fuck-” He’s cutting himself up as his hips slam up into you like with a mind of their own, “-fill you up, make you a momma. Oh, you’d be the best momma. The best.”

He’s fucking you so rough now - so jagged that you’re white-knuckling his tie, reeling him in so close. “And you’d- fuck m’gonna-” you’re sobbing now, over those drawled-out squelches from your velvety cunt. “You’d be the best da-”

You can’t finish your sentence - you couldn’t, because with a few more practiced strokes, you’re cumming all over Nanami’s massive cock. Feeling your elastic walls try to suck him up so hard you wondered whether it didn’t hurt. 

But it didn’t - it felt so sinfully good, in fact, that it was only a matter of a few blissful seconds before you’re being filled up with thick globs of his seed. Drooling out of you with each creamy rut into you, your gaping entrance only takes more. Still pounding into you, bottoming out - yet still pushing to give you everything he had to give.

“Sh-shit.” Nanami marvels at the silky ribbons of cum being stuffed inside, the way it slews up with your honeyed slick to form a glistening gloss down both your fronts. “Wait- oh, wait.” Nanami’s trembling cock spurs out a few more overflowing shots of seed at the very thought of what he was about to do. Still stuffed in, he’s reaching over to rustle through the pockets of his dress pants scattered mere inches away from the two of your slick, convulsing bodies on the bed.

You’re jolting when you feel something cold and metallic slide around your left ring finger, “Didn’t think I’d let you be the mother of my kids without a ring, did you, my wife?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Escape?

“Gorgeous…” Geto’s sultry, slow whisper sends goosebumps running down every inch of your skin. And it’s so soothing - so gentle, and yet- “-doesn’t matter how much you tug, these things won’t let you escape, m’kay?”

A wrenching sob rips from your hoarse throat, and all you can manage to do is tug on those tight, hot-pink handcuffs around your wrists. Pulling to prop your fucked-out body against the very top of his luxurious futon, “S-Sugu, you’re so mean.” Your wide eyes scan the pristine tatami room at his shrine, “Anyone could walk in-”

“And yet you’re still being such a slut, my girl.” He flashes you a rosy red grin, so blindingly pretty that it makes your cunt throb. “Still waiting f’me to breed your pretty pussy. Which would it be? The fifth now?”

Geto doesn’t even have to finish the sentence before you’re abruptly sitting upright, bottom lip wobbling with need. Your swollen pussy is just weeping beads of his cum at this point, sobbing down where he was still buried so eagerly inside your gummy walls. Your thighs shaky in- fear? Anticipation? The need for more? 

“Ah ah-” you feel two soft little smacks to the side of your cheek. “Don’t zone out on me just yet, gorgeous. S’this hah- boring for you?” And despite all the pleading shakes of your head, he only plows on, “Aww, what a shame. Guess I just hafta spice things up-”

It’s all the warning you’re getting - barely even - before your poor, weepy cunt is back to being just split apart on his fat head. Not even being eased into it, no care or concern for those overstimulated spasms when he stuffs you full. 

“F-fuck-” your eyes are shooting open - when did they even close? - at the sound of nearby footsteps in the hallway behind those sliding doors. Very nearby. “I swear someone’s gonna catch us, Sugu-”

The only sound that rings throughout his humid, heady room is your wet gag - muffled around the pale, slender fingers of his being shoved between your kiss-bitten lips. All you can register are the soft pads of his digits pressing down on the back of your taste buds and the unforgiving little pulses of his prominent veins dragging against your gummy walls. 

Leaning down - until he’s so dangerously close, until you could count every long, dark lash on his eyelids, every flex of his muscles - slosh of his syrupy sweet inside you - as he sets a languid, lazy pace. “If someone catches us then I will hngh- jus’ keep going, do not test me, pretty girl.”

The other of his splayed out fingers are drawing methodical, dizzying circles on the very tip of your sensitive clit. Matching his teasing place, every grazing nudge of his leaky tip coating your bruising g-spot. 

“Haven’t I already told ya not to start things you c-can’t finish?” Geto’s husky voice is talking you through every clingy thrust. Falling from his pretty lips with each deep snap, fucking you into the drenched futon leisurely like some cocksleeve. “N’ what did you do, hm?”

You couldn’t answer if you wanted to - because Geto’s fingers were still firmly swiping around your tongue. Murmuring, “Exactly that. Just had to make that fuckin’ hah- stupid little joke about me not being able to handle another daughter, huh?”

“Mmpf- hngh Sugur-” you try to moan out at a low thump! outside, but he’s shushing you pliantly quiet with a ragged pump into your womb. Making you gush velvety ribbons of his previous cum.

“Heh, think this cunt actually wants to get out of this without being bred?” It was true, your painted-white walls were just clinging elastically to Geto’s shaft every time he drove into you, sucking up every bit of him like you’re trying to milk out something delicious. Again. 

“And guess what?” he’s so crazed now, eyes glowing with a dark delight. Hips pistoning into yours with fearsome accuracy to smash over and over into the bullseye of your sensitive spot. Sloppier. The shuffling outside getting louder. So unfairly good that you’re barely registering his next words, “M’jus’ gonna breed this slutty pussy until you give me another. Until everyone knows you’re my slut.”

It only takes one, two, three more drilling clashes with your g-spot for you to fall apart once more. 

Your own orgasm bursts out of you. Squirting in glistening dredges again and again until it’s just a few fatiguing shocks of pleasure that have you heaving for air, whining Geto’s name like a mantra. The overstimulation too much, his twitching cock too big - over and over-

“F-fuuuuck- squirting all over, y’made such a mess.” Geto’s moan is so pornographic when that angry divot at his flushed head explodes with spurts of thick hot cum. So addictively sweltering against your plush walls, it floods into your womb, down your thighs - to your lungs it almost feels like. “Gonna give me another daughter? Yeah?” He breathes, head thrown back while he stuffs you too-full, until he could see the seeping white on your creamy cunt in his glassy peripheral vision. And he still isn’t done cumming - thinning out to mere sticky wisps. “Gonna make you so full- so swollen. Until everyone looks at you and knows what I did- how I defiled you. They’ll look at you and see me. Me, me, me, me-”

There’s such an animalistic cadence in the way he’s rutting into you, pushing you further and further up those drenched sheets. Just dragging your body forwards with one strong arm around your handcuffs when his sheer volume gets too much that you’re trying to pathetically escape. 

Thump!

In a split-second, Geto’s grabbing at a hidden dagger from underneath his robes. Throwing - dead straight through the paper doors - only for a loud thud! to echo from outside. “Bet the scum outside don’t even need to hear the pregnancy announcement, huh?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - My strange addiction

Oh, there’s nothing you loved more than Choso losing control - around the time of year when the weather grows a little warmer, when your sweet boyfriend becomes a little more restless. Those dark, dewy eyes of his turning black with something primal, desperate. 

Ingrained in his blood to breed you. To do nothing but breed you. 

Like right now. 

“Oh?” you’re purring with a coy bat of your lashes, looking over your shoulder to where he was looming. Flushed, gulping, absolutely drunken off your heady scent. “On your rut again, Cho?”

And that makes his entire body jolt, as if zapped by a sudden wave of electricity. Large, trembly hands fist your thin shirt to pin you down like some ragdoll onto the cool kitchen counter. Breath hitching, such a pained grunt leaves him at the sound of his name leaving those pretty lips of yours. 

Almost guiltily, he’s baring a wet gasp, “Y-yes. Saw you makin’  ah- makin’ us dinner in the kitchen and-” It’s like he hasn’t even realized what he was doing, slapping his raw cock against your drooling slit with each word. Smack! Smack! Smack! “-and- I just thought about how- just needed to…”

But alas, Choso doesn’t get to finish a single thought - because you’re stepping up onto your tip-toes - ever-so-slightly. Feeding your needy cunt with just the round girth of his very tip.

“Just needed to what, Cho?” you hum, quirking a devilish brow his way, holding back a keen at the sheer stretch of him around your sopping entrance. “Or do you wanna stop?”

Fuck, Choso swears he could feel his overworked balls squeeze so painfully at the very thought. “No-”  he’s hissing, glassy gaze widening almost comically. “No no no no no- please no. please, please this is all I want.” 

With a sultry giggle, you reach behind to pull him roughly by his soft strands. Choso’s grunting out hoarsely, letting himself be dragged to clash his lips against your bruised ones in such a sloppy kiss. All tongue and teeth, he drinks you in like a man depraved. “All you ever want is to just hah- fuck me in this kitchen, Cho?”

It’s so cute the way he’s sputtering dazedly into your sagging mouth, such a sweet whiny cry of, “Yes but no- fuck, I jus’ wanna–” The slow drag of his heavy tongue coats the crook of your neck in his saliva, hammering his swollen cock upwards until he was practically lifting you off the ground with sheer inhuman force. “Jus’ wanna breed you full, baby. Breed this pretty pussy like m’meant to.”

It’s with an almost-animalistic type of worship that Choso’s just ramming the rest of his thick cock into you until he’s spearheading straight into your spongy g-spot, weighty balls - painful, and ready for breeding - smacking against your ass. Addicted. 

“O-oh, fuck–” you can’t stop your honeyed gasps. “You’re s-so big- so hard even after just this morning? What a naughty boy.” 

Just slamming you down onto the cool marble,“Fuck- fuck fuck y’know what I imagined when I hah- saw you in the kitchen?” Such throaty groans drag along with each and every plunge into your slobbering pussy, Choso was always so talkative when he was like this. Slurring out a mile a minute, “Saw my pretty wife, the pretty mother of my kids.”

And you knew what he was going to say, but that doesn’t stop you from milking him so tight, velvety walls contracting in a way that almost made it difficult to maintain his sloppy staccato. Back arching into such a slutty bow to drag even needier down his drilling length

But your beloved boyfriend still wasn’t done, kissing away hotly at the corner of your mouth. “N’ s’not jus’ the hngh- rut talking either. Fuuuuck-” All six feet of his muscled body pins you to the counter, and distinctly, you could feel him scramble desperately to buck up a knee to angle his hips even deeper. “Saw you makin’ breakfast before school, and I’m- hngh- and I’m getting the kids ready - a boy and a girl, both as gorgeous as you.”

“Y-yeah?” Is all you can breathe out, “What- hngh- what else?”

You didn’t expect his humorless chuckle - broken, and a few pitches higher than normal. “What else?” His eyes are absolutely crazed now, and he’s biting down on your pouty lower lip. “Oh what didn’t I see?” 

Bowing till you could feel every ripple of his abs against your back. Every slow tremor of his glossy head nudging past your defenses, hitting deep at the bottom of your g-spot. It takes a few more sloppy pumps for you to realize that Choso’s still speaking. 

“Saw the wedding- saw the first birth, the way I cried-” The way he was crying now, ragged, overstimulated tears dripping down his pretty cheeks. Panting out wetly, “-what a great momma you are, the best. The way I help you hngh- milk these p-pretty tits when it’s too much. But my most favorite of all-”

You don’t hear the rest - and he doesn’t tell you, because he’s too busy cumming. Cumming and cumming so much that Choso thinks he can’t stop, swollen base rummaging deep inside to plug up those thick ropes of hot seed inside. It was impossible that he hadn’t achieved his dream with this. 

It’s bloating you up, too much. Spilling out of those little gaps at the dips and ridges of his twitchy cock that your inner thighs cover in a clingy white sheen. 

Drawn on instinct, you can only scream when Choso’s sharp canines bite down on the sensitive spot at your neck. Hard enough to draw blood - and, if you two were in any better state of mind, you’d have noticed that he did draw blood. 

A thin saturation of heady red coating his devilish grin, delicate strings of spit still connect to the mating mark. “-my favorite was when we made another.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - DOUBLE STUFFED!

“One more.”

“Kuna-”

“One more.”

When all you’re getting is that leeringly dangerous grin - the very same one he gifts any weak curses just about to be killed at his feet - you know there’s no way you’re getting out of this. Either you take it - or he makes you. 

Gliding your palms across Sukuna’s bulging pecs, your trembly legs twitch atop his muscled thighs. Gingerly jutting along where your poor cunt was being split apart on his twin bulgingly hard cocks. Up and down up and down up and-

“S’too much-” you’re whining, feeling the gush of his sticky cum coat down your thighs. Oozing out of your bloated cunt with every syrupy sweet bounce of his ravaging cocks. “I- not enough space-”

Any you were about to stupidly babble out is cut off when Sukuna wraps five thick digits around your exposed neck, intentionally dipping his sharp nails to leave branding little divots right about your racing pulse. A warning. A punishment. “Did I tell ya to keep runnin’ that hah- mouth, brat?” he spits, waiting for you to shake your head deliriously “no” before grinning. “Then why am I hearing so much t-talking n’ not enough of this slutty lil’ cunt of yours taking one more? You hear that?” 

All that was ringing in your ears was the honeyed echoes of squelches from below, smacking and slapping in sync with your pathetic movement. 

“Exactly.” Sukuna’s snapping you out of your thoughts, one hand resting at the glistening plush of your hips, the other spreading your puffy pussy lips to let you just slobber down his angry, red shafts. Glossing over him all the way from those fat tips to the creamy ring around his base. “Wastin’ too much of my hngh- cum with yer talkin’, brat. How are ya gonna have time to carry my seed?”

And he’s so large - so strong. Not even breaking a sweat when he’s getting up from his decadent throne with you boneless in his arms, still stuffing your cunt full with all greedy inches of both cocks. 

“O-oh, fuck, Kuna!” you’re squealing when gravity pulls you down until you could feel the scratch of his pink happy trail against the sensitively grazed areas of your skin. The dizzying push of two matchingly massive girths stretching your gummy walls to its limits. Your nails draw jagged red line down his tan skin, trying to keep just an ounce of your sanity together, “Fuck you’re in so hngh- deep.”

“Easy on the back there.” Sukuna’s rolling his eyes, but he can’t deny the way his heart clenches at the way you’re so fucked-out and easily sliding down his cock like some pretty sex toy. Whimpering about some baby names.

Not like it mattered, anyway. He’d name the little devilspawn whatever you wanted - after fighting about it for the fun of it. Heh, he always has been soft on you, huh?

All it takes is one hand holding you up, another to toy with the sensitive nub of your clit. Rolling and teasing you even deeper into his arms while another still rests firmly around your throat. 

The remaining hand? At Sukuna’s favorite place cupping your teary cheek, gliding away those big fat tears with the cure of his soft thumb, “Shh shhh, you can take it. You’re my pretty lil’ queen, right?”

Even his mind a hot melted mess on your dripping cunt. Just fucking into you ruthlessly, up, up, up till he was bulging at the very back of your cunt. One fat tip firmly kissing your g-spot, the other gliding in a silky smooth cadence against your poor cervix.

Matching veins rubbing matching sensitive spots, rendering you so awfully dumb on his cocks. Mixing with the hypnotic splattering of his seed against the velvet of your walls, it’s impossible to not feel like you’re about to fucking burst. 

Intertwining your fingers with his much longer ones on your face, you’re dragging them to rest at that palpable little nudge along the middle of your stomach. Pressing down to make him feel where he was buried deep, hiccuping lewdly, “You’re right here, Kuna. S’gonna be- hngh! impossible to not give you an heir.”

An heir. 

And fuck he couldn’t take it anymore - if anything even fucking heard about this, they’d faint. 

Because with a shuddering gasp, the king of curses was just dragging your weight down his cocks - over and over - to gloss your insides with each new coat of the thick, syrupy cum weeping out of his angry heads. So overfilled, but still greedily swallowing everything Sukuna gives. 

“Fuck-.” With an angrily strained growl, Sukuna only speeds up his motions on your clit. Methodical. Urgent, even. Still fucking him seed deeper to smash his quivering tips at your g-spot. Both - two divots pressurizing you at the same time. “How dare you make me cum first, woman. Think you’re soo fucking funny, huh? Better give me hundreds of lil’ hellspawn to make up for it.”

“N-noo-” you croon, but that limp little curl of your lips at the abundance of seed seeping out of you gives you away. It was so unlike him - so startling to spy the blushing rouge at his ears, the way his fat balls smack and only squeeze harder when you milk every drop. So hot, and splattering right down both of your legs, forming a creamy puddle at his floor. “I didn’t-”

You don’t finish your sentence, you can’t. Because with all of his brute strength, Sukuna is just wrenching that orgasm from your grasp - fucking you over and over through your high. 

The puddle only grows wider. And there’s no warning before he spits, once. Twice. Right onto the middle of the overwhelmed taste-buds on your tongue, gently shutting your mouth with one hand. The other spreading your puffy pussy lips to let you drool a glossy coat of cum down his front. Making a mess.

“S’inauspicious, y’know. Having the momma cum first-” He’s gruffing, sure you were still crashing into wave after wave of pleasure to even hear his whines. “-so why don’t you give me one more?”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Meet the Gojos

“Toru- we’ll get caught.”

“Shut up- fuck- shut up.” Gojo’s face was ashen, grinning so dangerously at the sight of you completely and utterly bound into that obscene mating press he loved so much. Your pretty pussy at the perfect angle for him to hammer his achy cock so thoroughly into you. “S’not what this cute cunt is sayin’ though, sweetheart.”

Fuck, if you were in any better state of mind, you’d have smacked him maybe. But you knew right by the glowingly amused tinty in his blue eyes that he was waiting for that to happen - goading even. 

You’re whining hotly, fingernails digging sharply into the winding wooden desk rested cool beneath your skin. “The- the elders are about to have a- hngh! meeting in here soon and-”

Gojo’s lips curl  when your breath hitches, feeding you each and every one of his merciless inches over and over- “Well then it’s damn good that they’ve been bugging me for an heir, dontcha think~?” 

You’re letting your drooling maw fall slack in disbelief - only to create the perfect opening for your boyfriend to catch you into a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. Spitting out little profanities with each harsh push of his fat gliding tip across the slippery slopes of your walls. “Heh, always so fuuuck- cute when you’re fucked dumb on my cock.” he’s chuckling, mouth looser than usual with the way the tight channel of your cunt is sucking out every one of his honest thoughts - his soul. “But ya needa get more firm, I’m gonna be the fun parent.”

It takes another harsh snap! of those toned hips bruising against your ass for you to jump back into your heady reality. 

“T-Toru…” you’re murmuring, but it comes out so much more breathless than you wanted. Catching on to that syrupy, fucked-out tone of yours, Gojo takes the opportunity to ram his swollen length even meaner into your slobbering cunt. Wringing out your narrow hole to mold around the exact shape of his massive dick. “We- ngh! We’ve got to set an example.”

You feel the fat girth of his shaft grow two sizes even bigger at your scolding. Bulging those two prominent veins down the middle to imprint onto your gummy walls. The roaming point of his glossed-over head pressing straight onto your g-spot, making you writhe underneath him. Bucking up for more more more-

A pale, splayed-out palm slams! down onto the creaky mahogany right beside your head, and when you’re batting your dazed gaze up you see-

Oh. 

Oh fuck - forget setting an example, you were about to be made one. 

Because Gojo’s blue irises were sparking with tiny rods of lightning, teeth bared in such an amusedly feral grin that it made your cunt ache. 

“Fuck-” even his voice sounded deeper - raspier, cracking ever-so-slightly with need near the end. “Fuck, you can’t talk shit to me about ‘setting examples’ when you get so fuckin’ wet just because I play a little rough.”

Playing a little rough was an understatement - and both of you knew it. Because if Gojo was simply toying with your sanity before, then he was well and fully intent on breaking it right now. Right along with your poor pussy with those bludgeoning, harsh thrusts you were being gifted with.

The expansion of his weighty cock has you squealing with each powerful slam, “Fuck- fuck you little-”

“Hunk? Absolute catch?” he grins, voice dropping to a low husky drawl. A slick little trail of drool dips down the corner of his mouth already with every cracking beg and plea, followed by a series of lingering grinds - not even thrusts, just slow, shallow swerves to feel you tighten wetly around his hot shaft. The lights flicker above, “Father of your kids?” 

That makes you wrack in a sinful shudder, words tumbling out before your syrupy sweet brain could compute them, “You’d make a- a good daddy, Toru.”

Crack! 

It’s happening in a split-second - a stuttering gasp catches in Gojo’s throat, those baby blue eyes going wide. Glowing. In the distance, your popping ears catch the sharp shattering of that prized vase in the corner of the room. 

But right now it felt like you were the one about to break - because ribbons and ribbons of Gojo’s hot, potent seed were knocking on the door to your womb. Splurging in thick dredges to stuff you full from the inside out. 

“Fuck- fuck, you evil evil woman.” Gojo breathes out, the only thing he could seem to do at this very moment. When the tethering clenches of his balls have tapered out, he’s pulling out to smack! the length of his throbbing, red shaft on your clit. Mouth hanging open at the way just buckets of his own cum gush out of your tight hole. “Shit- m’gonna breed this cute cunt. Gonna fill her up until you’re so round and swollen.” he’s babbling, gliding pale fingers across the sloshing cum now seeping onto the desk to shove it back inside. 

“Fuuuck- m’gonna breed her till she hah- doesn’t know what it’s like to not be stuffed full. Until you’re giving me a cute lil’ blue-eyed baby.” Crackling with jujutsu energy, he’s smack down on your puffy cunt - hard! “Until m’not the strongest. Not even second- or third or fourth or fifth-” kissing your pouty lips in addicted little pecks. “-no. S’gonna be my- our kids. All ours.”

“Ngh! Toru–” you’re whining, only taking another few messy swivels on your cunt before you cum. And you swear, the lights go out at this very moment - the only thing you can see being Gojo’s flickers of purple jujutsu and his gleamingly white grin.

He smacks another hand down on that wooden meeting desk - the now broken desk, standing wearily on only three legs - and the puddle of cum seeping below you. “Think we’ll be excused from the meeting? Because m’not done with you just yet, ma.”

A/N. Yuh I had two Kendrick references I apologize (I don’t).

Plagiarism not authorized.

[nezuscribe]

(previous part)

it's been a week since you've spoken to arranged!gojo, and he feels like he's about to start going crazy.

you don't speak during your meals, not even when he addresses you in a question. sometimes you spare him a glance, but he'd still rather see your icy glare than see nothing at all.

and he knows he fucked up. he knows that you seeing him alone with anya was perhaps the worst possible place you could’ve caught him, but he's been almost begging you to listen to him, to hear his side. but every time he goes to explain you leave abruptly, leaving him alone, feeling the looks of pity from those around the two of you.

and you know you're being petty. after all, the two of you are only bound by words, nothing else. if anything, the two of you were just becoming friends, so this shouldn't hurt you as much as it does.

but you hear the whispers of the ladies, hear of their secret proposals of how gojo would surely bed them if they just asked. how miserable he must be trapped with you, how this marriage is ruining his life. and you know anya, know about her history with him. before you were his wife you were the higher echelon wallflower, listening to all the gossip, observing from afar.

you've gathered some ideas in your head as to why he might want to speak with you. perhaps he wants to gently break the news that he's found a mistress, one that he actually loves. or that maybe he's already had one and now you know why he's been so secretive.

so the more he tries to talk to you, the more you pull away. you don't know why he cares so much, why this even matters to him. if anything, you feel like he should be content with your silence.

but he's not, and gojo grows more restless by the hour.

he decides he can't live like this anymore. tonight he's going to make you listen to him, even if you want nothing to do with him.

you're holed up in your room, talking with alina as she dabs lavender oil on your neck before you go to sleep. you know she knows about your silence with gojo, but ever friend, she does nothing to bring it up.

well, she wouldn't have to if he didn't come knocking feverishly at your door.

you watch in your mirror as she peeks her head out, her gasp of surprise causing a sinking pit to form in your stomach. you can hear how she scrambles with the titles of my lord, how she explains that you're nearly about to go to sleep.

it's late, the only light is the flickering of the candles on your nightstand. he should be asleep by now.

gods, you wonder for the millionth time this week, why does he care so much?

alina finishes up, closing the door slightly as she turns to you, her eyes finding yours in the mirror.

"i'm sorry my lady," she bows her head almost apologetically, "but my lord wants to talk to you. he's requested me to leave...if you'll excuse me," she bows, quickly leaving, not giving you any time to actually excuse her. you know she can't stay any longer, but you do wish she put up more of a fight. you watch her skirt bustle away, the door being left slightly ajar.

you try to act nonchalant, continuing to dab the oil onto your wrists as you look down, even when you hear the door click shut, even when you can feel his presence several feet behind you.

you sigh through your nose, heat rising to your cheeks.

"what?" you bite out, your own voice shocking you. you want to get this over with, not too desperate to hear about how he's ready to take on a mistress and shun you away.

you can hear him take in a deep breath, your eyes briefly looking up in the mirror to catch his, the same ones that make your knees weak, and avert your gaze.

"you haven't spoken to me in over a week," he says after a beat of silence.

you shrug indifferently, despite the fact that he could probably ask you the specific amount of hours it's been since the two of you had talked and you'd give an accurate number.

"i've been busy," you murmur, taking your earrings off as you place them gently in the little glass bowl to the side.

he doesn't say anything about your blatant lie, just nods slowly, as if he understands.

"i missed hearing you talk," gojo tells you quietly, almost as if his voice had been stuck in his throat, and you wonder if any man before him had ever tried to sweet talk his wife before he told her about his new mistress.

you don't say anything, still refusing to look at him as you stand up from your seat, turning off one of the candles near you as you smooth out some of the wrinkles of your nightgown.

"is this what you really want to tell me gojo?" you say bluntly, looking to the side momentarily, getting a longer look at his bulky figure, how he tries to make himself seem smaller, "that you miss my stupid jokes and dull stories?"

"they're not stupid," he quickly cuts in, his voice a little stronger, brows furrowed, "and i like your stories."

you roll your eyes, moving around the bed, to the side where he's not, and fluff your pillows. you've never found this useful, but it gives you something to do with your hands other than fidgeting with them.

truth be told, you're reflecting. you're scared of what it is he has to say, and so you try to appear stronger, and less caring, despite the fact that it's tearing you apart.

you try not to feel self-conscious of the fact that this is his first time ever seeing your room, or the fact that it's so bland. you didn't come to this estate with many things, and so you've tried to spruce up the space as much as you can, but aside from the few flowers and paintings on the wall, you fear it looks bland compared to everything else he's seen.

"and no," gojo adds, running a hand through his already tousled white hair as his arms crossed over his chest, and you finally allow yourself to stare at him, "that's not all i wanted to say."

he paused for a second.

"i don't know why i followed her out, or why i even stayed to hear her speak, but she kept saying these things about..." he trails off, gnawing on his lips as your eyes narrow slightly.

"me?" you finish for him, and his eyes dart to yours.

gojo nods a little bit, arms bulging a little bit as if remembering what she had said.

"i'm used to people staring at me, i lived with it my entire life. but with you, people..." he struggles to find words, "people stare longer. and i don't know why."

you raise a brow.

"do you want me to explain?" you say and he looks at you briefly, almost in a brazen way.

he shakes his head as if he had steered off track.

"that's beside the point. what i wanted to tell you is that she...she was saying some nonsense and i was about to leave until she offered for me to stay at the hostelry she was at." his blue eyes are wavering, his finger itching to get closer to you. this stupid bed is in the middle of you two and he wishes it were gone.

your breathing hitches a little bit, and you hope he doesn't see the sad tilt on your lips.

"so i banished her. or, well, i guess you saw her and then i banished her, but i would've done it regardless," he explains hurriedly, "look, i'm sorry...really sorry. if you want me to-"

"you banished her?" you cut him off, voice raised slightly in confusion.

his mouth gapes open for a second, and then blinks slowly, nodding.

"of...course," he tilts his head, his gorgeous head, slightly "you know that i am married, right? to you? she was offering to-"

"i thought you were going to tell me that you slept with her. o-or i don't know! that you were going to make her your mistress or something!" you spew out, your voice raised as you pace around the floor, moving a little bit closer to him as his eyes widen.

"why would you ever think that?" gojo says in a panicked tone, nothing like the man who commanded the northern army, but more like somebody who was watching his world burn in front of him.

"why?" you exclaim, shocked, "why? are you daft? every single woman wants to sleep with you! every single time we host those dinners, o-or we go to those parties, they look at you and they look at me and they pity you. i hear the whispers of the ladies, how they wouldn't mind being the other woman."

gojo hears the way your voice wavers, how your lips tremble, and the way you try not to let your bottom lip quiver. he sees the way you try to stay strong, to keep your image unbridled, but right now he feels like he's watching you break and he doesn't know what to do.

"so? what makes you think i'd do anything with them?" gojo argues, his voice raised a little bit, not in shouting, but in genuine disbelief.

you take a moment to step back and observe his behavior, and a nagging voice in your head tells you that he's telling you the truth. that he's concerned and worried, that maybe all he came to tell you tonight was an apology.

but that can't be correct.

so you sigh, your arms crossed over your chest protectively.

"i...i don't know," you murmur, "you sleep in another wing, you're always away. i thought...maybe..." you can't meet his eyes, fidgeting with the ring on your finger.

gojo takes a step forward, lips parted, cheeks rosy and flushed.

the two of you don't say anything for a minute, his chest heaving up and down. you feel like there's a weight both removed and added onto your shoulder.

"why didn't you say anything?" he whispers, "did you think...did you think i was...?" he can't finish the sentence, the words themselves too gruesome.

he doesn't say anything as he takes another tentative step closer.

you watch him, your eyes mirroring one another.

"i made a vow to you," his voice is heavy, traveling across the spanning stone walls, going deep into your bones, "and even if you prefer me to be your friend, i'll keep to that vow till the day i die."

your eyes gloss over, lips trembling.

you don't say anything, taking a couple steps forward as you smash against his chest, face crumpling against the stone wall of his torso as you hug him tightly, hoping that he can't feel the tears that seep through his nightshirt.

never in your life has somebody made a promise to you. and never in your life has somebody kept to that promise.

"thank you," you murmur, your voice muffled as his arms wrap around your body, steady and strong.

"and anyways, i'd prefer to be married to you than those miserable women any day," he mumbles into your hair and you laugh wetly, squeezing your arms tighter.

"really?" you say, tears blurring your vision.

"really," he hums, not able to say anything because he fears what you'd say if he told you that he'd rather be your husband and your friend. but he'd keep that inside, respecting your wishes.

if only he knew you wished the same.

[miharuwrites]

This is adorable 🥰

Loki would totally show off his partner

loki: everybody lied to me when i got engaged

loki: being married is fucking great!

*drags a confused mobius into frame*

loki: there's a whole other person in my house-

mobius: good morning to you too-

loki: -and they love me!