#he loves it there sm it feels like home

[breezypunk]

out and about in pacifica, one of his all time favorite places :3

[sunsetsandsunshine]

~ 𝙰 𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚝 ~

̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙵𝙰𝙽𝙳𝙾𝙼 𝙸𝚂 𝙱𝙰𝚂𝙸𝙲𝙰𝙻𝙻𝚈 𝙰 𝙶𝚁𝙰𝚅𝙴𝚈𝙰𝚁𝙳 𝚁𝙽 𝙱𝚄𝚃 𝙸 𝙳𝙾𝙽’𝚃 𝙲𝙰𝚁𝙴!!! 𝚃𝙰𝙺𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙵𝙻𝚄𝙵𝙵𝙻𝚈 𝙱𝙵𝙵 𝙵𝙸𝙲 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙰𝙰𝙷𝙷𝙳𝙷𝙳𝙷!!!˚*• ̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊·̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟷,𝟹𝟺𝟾

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚎 ⚾️💛

𝙻𝚎𝚛: 𝙻𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚜 🎃❤️

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚎 𝙱𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚘 𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙻𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐; 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚊 𝚝𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚢 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝…

(𝙰/𝙽: 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚂𝙴 𝚃𝚆𝙾 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚂 𝙰𝚁𝙴 𝙺𝙸𝙳𝚂; 𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙾𝚁𝚂. 𝙳𝙾 𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝙼𝙰𝙺𝙴 𝙸𝚃 𝚆𝙴𝙸𝚁𝙳 𝙿𝙻𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝙽𝙺𝚂!!!)

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚂𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 😚💞

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚🕺🏾𝙴𝙽𝙹𝙾𝚈🫶🏾𝙴𝙽𝙹𝙾𝚈🕺🏾𝙴𝙽𝙹𝙾𝙾𝚈𝚈𝚈𝚈𝚈🫶🏾˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

It was a nice, cool and collected October afternoon.

The air smelled like October…the tree’s looked like October…

…And everything just felt…October-ish in a way; if that makes any sense…

It was the end of the school day; and just like any intelligent and studious student…you would assume doing your homework as soon as you got home would be the best bet, right?

Well…not for Linus Van Pelt and Charlie Brown. 

The two best friends have been playing video games for the past…two hours; give or take? 

And their homework would most likely not be finished until…probably…midnight…

…But the two had priorities. Very good ones in fact!

And one of the main priorities they had as of right now was finishing their video game. 

(A wonderful priority if you ask me).

And to make it even better, Charlie was surprisingly…winning! 

Which…was something in his life that didn’t happen…much, if, not at all. 

Linus looked at the small TV screen in slight disbelief as his best friend managed to score yet another point in Mario Kart.

The brunette chuckled at the action, a mix of surprise and amusement in his voice, “Wow…I didn't know you were such a video game expert, Char. You’re destroying me, here.”

Charlie giggled, “I guess I am, aren’t I?”

The younger boy shook his head, feigning an offended tone, “You 'guess', huh?” The red cladded preteen snickered as he put the controller to the side, “Don’t let it get to your head. You're supposed to be letting me win, after all."

“You wouldn’t win even if I let you.” The other chuckled. 

“Wha— exCUSE me?!” Linus gasped dramatically. 

“You’re excused...” Charlie said cheekily as the TV roared with champion music, displaying the results of the leader board as the yellow cladded preteen was shown as the winner. 

“…Looks like I win.” The older grinned.

“That’s not faaaaair!!!” The younger one whined, pointing his finger accusingly at his best friend, “You cheated!”

Charlie Brown let out a small huff of laughter, raising an amused brow as he crossed his arms, “Hohow dihid I cheat? Yohou watched me plahay!” 

The red cladded preteen rolled his eyes, looking away from his friend as he sulked, “Whatever...”

Charlie rested his head on his friend’s shoulder whilst teasingly poking his cheek, “It’s okay to lose, Li. We all have to at some point.”

“You lose all the time in…like…w-well, everything!” The shorter teen retorted.

“But I’m not losing right now, am I?” The honey brown eyed preteen grinned smugly, going out to poke the other’s cheek one more time but was stopped as Linus grabbed his wrists, pinning his arms above his head with one hand as he sat on his friend’s thighs.

Charlie’s eyes widened, kicking his legs underneath Linus as he tried to get out of the hold.

…Good…grief.

The one in red used his free hand to tickle the other’s side, dancing his fingers diligently and effortlessly which caused Charlie to absolutely shriek, shaking his head as he stomped his feet on the carpeted floor. 

Linus chuckled, enjoying the lightheartedness of the moment and the adorable sound of his friend’s shriek as he tickled his sides.

The brown eyed preteen was barely even tickling him!

…In fact, Linus was barely getting started.

The younger smiled slyly, “Huh...who would’ve known? The great video game champion is ticklish…”

“N-Nohohohoh!!” The other kid giggled helplessly. 

“'No?' You seem pretty ticklish to me, Char.“ The brunette haired preteen mused. 

“I-Ihihi’m nahahat!” The older cried. 

Linus rolled his eyes fondly as he doubled down on the tickling, his grin stretching wider. He released his friend’s wrists and he pinched his hips, chuckling at the giggly denial the other was sputtering through his laughs.

I mean, come on now. Linus knew Charlie Brown since…kindergarten. 

…The two were only in fifth grade…but still! His point still boldly stands!!!

“Oho, you're not, huh? Then how come you're giggling and squirming around so much?“

“I-Ihihi’m nahahat!” The honey brown eyed kid desperately denied which Linus to only laughed out loud in result, his fingers still dancing over his best friend’s sides. 

He looked at the taller boy with mock seriousness, still smiling widely as the other wriggled and writhed. 

“Oho really? Because your giggling is telling me a veeeeery different story~!” The red cladded preteen smiled smugly as he started to knead the other’s hips, “Just say you’re ticklish…'cuz I know you know you are…no matter how much you deny it. 

Charlie Brown just snorted, hugging his middles and kicking his legs slightly as Linus continued with his tickling onslaught, making sure to leave the other boy in utter stitches.

“Cohome on, Char! Admit it! Just say, your ticklish and this can aaaaaall be over~! You know you want to~!” The hazel eyed teen said as he tickled his best friend’s stomach swiftly.

And in result, the yellow cladded preteen genuinely screamed in a result to the new sensation on his tummy, grabbing the other’s wrists but not quite pushing them away. 

Linus just grinned, enjoying the silliness of the situation, “Pff— how about now, Char~? Are you still 'not ticklish~?'” He teased as he continued to tickle the taller oh-so casually, “Y'know…the more you deny it, the more I'm tempted to keep going~!” 

The honey brown eyed preteen’s whole face turned to a bright red as he tugged on his best friend’s hands, “NAHAHAHAH— snrk LIHINUHUS!!”

The younger boy found his best friend’s giggling both adorable yet hilarious at the same time; continuing to tickle the other on his stomach and not showing the slightest sign of stopping anytime soon.

“D'aww~! Your little snorts nehever get old…” The younger smiled fondly, “Come on, Char, just say it! I won't stop until you do~!”

“LIHI— snrk!! PLEHEASE NAHAHOH!!” Charlie Brown cackled.

“But all you have to do is admit it, Char-Char~! Just say you’re soooo ticklish and the tickling will stop!” The hazel eyed preteen casually said.

The slightly taller kid snorted, flapping his hands on his friend’s arms. Linus glanced at his best friend's happy stims and smiled, pausing his tickling torment for juuuuust a moment.

“Your happy stimming is so. freaking. cute!” The younger gushed, “But~! We're not done here; not until you say those two magic words..." He said as he resumed the tummy tickling with a smirk.

Charlie snorted, “LIHI LIHIHI!! PLEHEHEASE!!!”

“Awe…is that a 'please' I hear? Sounds like someone's starting to give in…”

“I’M TICKLISH!! IHIHIHI’M TIHICKLIHISH!!!” The yellow cladded preteen cackled despretley 

“Those aren’t the magic words, Charlie Brooown~!” Linus grinned evilly, leaning down and blowing a raspberry on his best friend’s stomach. 

The older let out an embarrisngly loud squeal at the sensation on his said stomach, covering his face with his arms as he laughed hysterically. 

“Oho gosh…I forgot how sensitive your tummy is...” Linus giggled in between breaths.

“IHIHITS SNRK NAHAHAT!!” The other denied.

“It’s not? Are you sure? 'Cuz this seems like a goldmine for your giggles, Charlie..” The younger said matter-of-factly as he lightly scribbled his nails around the elder’s bellybutton as he raspberried his sides. 

The elder in question howled, arching his back and cackling madly, “GAHAHASH NOHOH! HIC! WHYHYHY THAHAHAT?!”

“Because you loooove it~!”

“PLEHEASE!! LIHIHI NOHOHAH— SNRK! STAHAHAP!!!”

“But this cute little giggle spot is so yummy, Char! I just need to...” And with that, Linus blew the most freaking ticklish raspberry Charlie Brown’s ever felt directly on his bellybutton. 

Happy tears ran down the older’s face, lying limp on the carpet as he laughed like The Joker, “LINUS IHI’M SOSOHO TICKLISH!!! IHI’M TICKLISH JUHUHUST PLEEHEHEASE!!!”

The red cladded preteen stopped immediatley, getting off and lying down next his best friend as his best friend in question tried to catch his breath. 

“Ihihi’m gohohonna gehehet yohou back…”

“I’m sure you will, Char.” Linus snickered, sitting back against the couch as he grabbed his and Charlie’s playstations and waving them around teasingly, “Best out of three?”

“Oho you’re ohon.” The older grinned, snatching back the gaming device as they placed video games throughout the night.

…Perhaps that homework could wait until tomorrow…

[sandycookie]

fellas the book 7 update…. *crying*

(refer to the tags for my rambling, just to minimize ppl accidentally spoiling themselves)

[themyscirah]

WE GOTTEM BOYS

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

ppl in the house and I’m too intimidated to walk to my room so I’m throwing Jeremiah excerpts like bread ends to ducks:

It’s October in 2005 which means it’s cold in Maryland and still warm in Las Vegas. Jeremiah’s been watching the weather channel more frequently lately as a form of pure entertainment which seems like a strange thing to do, probably because it is but also more likely because the weatherman’s got a Colgate smile and hair like Keanu Reeves’ in My Own Private Idaho. He’s named after a flower or something of the like—Prim, Basil, Aster, Sage. Really, Jeremiah should know because he’s invested enough to know the man has a subtle lisp and a birthmark above his right eyebrow, but maybe the problem is that he’s paying too much attention to the man’s subtle lisp and birthmark. Still, he finds himself thinking of the man when he sits on the balcony with a mug of Ovaltine, the weather channel muffled through the closed door. When did he decide to become a weatherman? And is the job rewarding?

Sometimes the reality that he’s dreaming about a weatherman who doesn’t know he exists hits him so hard he goes back inside and turns the TV off right away

[crenna]

rereading the shatter me series and i can’t even count how many times i cried during defy me it was sooo much better the second time !!!

[killerqueenhetfield]

I WANNA BE DOG PARENTS WITH JAMES RN!

[lucygraysboy]

“and i missed bein’ your cowboy prince. it feels like coming home.” it amazes him how the universe works, almost as if someone has been pulling on invisible strings this whole time to bring them back together. “right? when i saw you last night, up on that stage, i went back in time and felt as if i was watching one of those shows that you used to put on just for me and our teddy bears. and catchin’ up after… when i’m holdin’ you like this, it’s like i’ve never left.” there’s a long road ahead of them, but he’ll do his best to never let her down again. “thank you.” for not undermining his masculinity just because he’s shown his emotions and shed some tears, for helping him accept the fact that true strength goes hand in hand with vulnerability. 

“who do you take me for? i ain’t no snitch,” billy huffs in response, but it’s quickly followed by a laugh. he would have to be completely out of his mind to tell mrs. baird that they’d been drinking and almost had sex, but she’s always had a way of seeing right through him — that’s what scares him. “what if she hears hesitation in my voice? you know how she is. remember when we were little? it felt like she could read my mind, knew when i was lyin’ or hidin’ somethin’. that one time i skipped school with jesse? she knew the second she looked at me.” as irrational as it seems, billy’s almost completely certain that mama bird already knows what exactly happened to them last night. still, he’ll try to sound convincing. besides, it’s not an outright lie, right? after all, he and lucy gray did talk a lot. “that sounds reasonable, yeah, okay… oh, thanks.” laughing at how quickly she unlocks the phone, he easily finds her mama’s number in her recents but hesitates for a second. the pad of his thumb hovering over the screen. 

“i understand that. it’s a very valid feeling, but you need to know that i’ve never loved anyone else. my heart’s always been yours. only yours. you’re my world, lucy gray,” he murmurs into the space between them, leaning in to bump their noses when she rolls over to face him. it’s his greatest regret in life, trying to move on and forget her. if he could turn back time, he would just fight for her instead. “the kiss that we shared last night,” he knows that they were both under the influence of alcohol and very strong emotions, but it doesn’t matter, “it meant more to me than… whatever happened in the past.” he knows that overcoming these feelings of betrayal, even if they might seem ridiculous, won’t be easy but he’s determined to assist her in any way possible. “alright, let’s leave it as it is. doesn’t bother me either.” maybe they’ll play bon jovi. “thank you. and i love yours. you looked beautiful even with shorter hair, of course, but i’m happy to have my rapunzel back,” he says softly, kissing her forehead as her fingers slip into his mane. his eyes close briefly as he basks in the pleasant sensations, warmth spreading throughout his entire body. he missed her so much and this feeling of pure love and comfort that comes with her touch.

"i missed bein' your rainbow princess." saying sadly, but a smile softly curling her lips upwards as her eyes open again, watching his fingers brush against her stuffed spirit's mane. "i feel that way, too. like everything just goes back to normal. like not a day has went by." it felt like they were still just very much those children who never left each other's sight, every time they met again. "of course. but now you know, you always can." or rather, learning he can. which is something she didn't think he'd ever come around to doing so maybe this is a good sign. that's not something she'd ever judge him for, she wants him to know this is a trait she very much admires in a person. when they can be emotional and vulnerable.

"exactly. don't you dare utter a word of us drinkin' or whatever else psychotic things we were doin'. she'll personally come down here and grab us by our necks." her mama was a sweet woman and kind to everybody, but she also had a temper when it came to two things. intolerance of bullshit and her child getting up to things that could be a risk to her health or well being. her mama always wanted one more child, or even two more. but when lucy gray ended up being her only one, because she couldn't have them with her real dad who she's never met and sharing children with her stepdad was not an option, it made her into an even more extra mama bear over her only nestling. her only bear cub. alcohol was a sensitive subject to her mother as well, so she'd definitely be having a melt down over her becoming an alcoholic just because she had one drink last night. "just say that, basically what you said. after the show, we had dinner, patched things up and spent the whole night talkin' that i forgot to send her a goodnight message because it got too late." she nods, a tiny smile of amusement trying to pull at the corners of her mouth.

"i just unlock it with face recognition or whatever it is." hand folds over his holding her phone to redirect it closer to her face, holding it up and the screen quickly comes available for him. "that's what i was goin' to say... because i love you so much," shyly speaking the words, "so i don't like it." living inside her head where she knows he's been with other people. makes her angry because why did he have to go off and do that shortly after he left home the first time? if she was really his, he wouldn't made some other girl his. "i like the music videos playin', it doesn't bug me. but you can always change it if you want to. and like i always used to say when i wanted to nap extra longer... you can keep talkin' but don't be mad at me if i fall asleep." she curls back up on her side, this time facing him at least with spirit under her arm. there's a pause, a minute that drifts by, before doe eyes open again and peer up at him. "i do love your curls, though. seein' them again." then closes her eyes again, somehow managing not to reach up and experimentally touch. except, another second passes and hand blindly reaches up to rake her fingers through his hair cause the impulse is too strong. not even realizing she already told him this last night and her touchy hands must be apart of her sober counterpart, after all. or drunk lucy gray lives on.

[tonycries]

Corpse Groom - G.S.

Synopsis. Till déath do you part…or does it when a déathly error leads your newly-wedded husband to be from beyond the gráve?

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, CÓRPSE BRIDE!AU, arranged marriages, period-typical mísogyny, Naoya is awful, accidental marriage, ángst, major character(s) déath, HAPPY ENDING, talks of déath, kníves, poíson, reíncarnation, Gojo YEARNS, he loves you sm I cried, hándjobs, fíngering, spítting, cúmplay, BRÉEDING, creampíes, mentions of having kids, pússydrúnk Gojo, overstím, oraI (fem rec.), pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 12.7k (ohoho)

A/N. K!nktober isn’t over until I had to make a rewrite of my favorite Halloween movie mhm <3

“Mother, I refuse-”

“Nonsense, child!”

That sharp snap! of your mother’s feathered fan is loud enough that the whole carriage rattles on its hinges, creaking you noisily to what seemed like your very doom. 

You gulp when she’s tilting her head down as far as her best, high-collared gown would allow, eyes narrowing. “The Zenin’s are the only nobles left in this wretched town, and I will not have my daughter marrying some commoner.”

The unsteady cobblestone pathway jostles you in your cushioned seat ever-so-slightly, a pertinent little reminder of that fact.

In the deafening silence, your father pipes up - ever-the-pacifist, “Now now, why don’t we all calm down, especially before such a glorious wedding.” But his words wither out into nothing but a whisper in the simmering tension. “Like your mother said, dear, the Zenin’s are a good family, with a uh-” Coughing nervously, “-good son. We just want you to be taken care of.”

As if that was the only thing.

But there was no use arguing. 

Facing back to the gray window with a sigh, and you can only whisper. “I’d rather die than marry Naoya Zenin.”

---

“With this hand-”

“Louder.”

“With this-”

“More passionate.”

“With this damn hand-”

“Not a threat.” The older woman in front of you wrings her satin gloves, turning towards your fuming parents with a tone that matches their expression. “Honestly, I know that you new money people find it hard to adjust but this is our special tradition! My poor baby Naoya is going to be heartbroken tomorrow.”

Dutchess Zenin had a cruel sort of beauty to her, high cheekbones, and cutting eyes that picked apart every fray at your dress - the spitting image of her son.

And her “poor baby Naoya” was currently finding it impossible to hide his smirk. Swiping away invisible dust from the velvety-clad shoulder of his overpriced suit, he sets down his wine bottle from the vows.

“Don’t be too harsh, mother.” Naoya’s smooth voice comes out in a dangerous purr, and you jolt when one of his strong arms slither around your waist. Possessive. “After all, it’s this one’s face that’s what’s important.” 

God, if it weren’t for your parents’ pointed looks you would have shoved this overly-perfumed bastard away from you and bolted through those high doors faster than you could say “I do.” 

The Naoya Estate was as beautiful as its occupants could never be, brutal, looming architecture intended to make you feel smaller than you were. All those high cemented pillars, plush furniture, and gleaming chandeliers spoke of exactly what your parents wanted - power. 

It wasn’t the sort of home you’d like to call your own, but then again, you didn’t have any choice in the matter. 

“My deepest apologies on behalf of my daughter, madam-” your mother’s gritting out the words, painted lips curling ever-so-slightly towards the end with a bitter taste. “-or should I say, co-mother-in-law? Ah, come now, we might as well be family already, right?”

“Sure.” Dutchess Naoya turns, arching a needle brow. “Might as well, thanks to your family assets- if your daughter doesn’t make a joke of the vows, that is.”

The wisened officiary standing at the altar nods solemnly towards you. “Do you even want to get married tomorrow, young lady?” No, you want to answer, but bite back. “Zenin house traditions dictate that the mark of a good wife is one to follow the vows to its every syllable.”

You wince - and your features sting where they’d been perfectly stretched into a plastic smile. Your next words come out small, strangled in a way that makes your future husband smile. “I apologize, I know how important these vows are, and I’ll- I’ll do better next time.”

“Good.”

With a click of Dutchess Zenin’s fingers, a hushed, swirling piano melody fills the hall once more. 

Your wedding ballad. 

Something that Naoya had prattled on and on about being an esteemed tradition in the Zenin household, a tender tune to accompany their sacred vows. Modeled after the long-lost royalty of this kingdom, and this was the closest you’d get to a taste of it. 

It was your one initiation into power - saying those sweet, special promises - and the one thing you found impossible to get right.

“-for I will be your wine.”

Shit.

You didn’t even realize that Naoya had polished off his own vows, before you jolt at the hefty weight of wine being poured into your cup. 

And you could practically feel the burning stare of every eye in the room. Watching. Waiting. 

You’re fighting against your intricate corset to gulp in a deep inhale of the stale, thickening air. Clearing your throat ever-so-slightly, you raise the hand holding onto his wedding ring. “With this hand, I will lift your sorrows. Y-your cup will never empty-” Fingers tightening around the silver goblet in your other, your breath hitches at the bile rising to your throat already. “-for I will be your- your uh- wine.” 

In the corner of your vision, you could spot Naoya’s smug smirk already. You could hear his tiny “As if you have any other choice.”

You knew what he was thinking.

That whisper is enough to make your jaw grind, your hand clench in a way you’d been taught by your mother not to - in a way that she’d unfortunately forgotten to tell you was for the cup’s sake, rather than your own.

Because it only takes one harsh squeeze before it just bursts.

Red, red wine trickling all down your wrist, splattering onto the gauzy curve of your gown - but more importantly, onto Naoya’s crisp suit. 

It bleeds through the velvet in thick smears, seeping into the fabric as if catching on fire. Only staining further and further with each second he’s flailing frantically to wipe it off. 

“Shit- My apologies- oh, shit-” you’re gasping, but there’s no one paying enough attention to tell you off for your unlady-like profanity right now. Body moving before your mind, you snatch some of the officiary’s papers from him, “Wait, it will only get worse- let me-”

Only to forget what was in your hands.

Honestly, if this was any other time you would have laughed watching the rest of the wine nestled safely in your cup come gushing down onto whatever was left of his unmarred suit - every single inch. 

It’s chaos.

Then it’s silence. 

Every single breathing being in the room can only watch as the last few crimson droplets drip! drip! drip! onto Naoya Zenin’s lapels.

Wordlessly, you look to the aghast officiary, your stony-faced parents, and finally, your gaping fiancé. You’re the first to speak - to hold back your chuckles, more like. “I- I cannot apologize enough…”

“You- you witch! This was on purpose, wasn’t it? Do you know how much this custom suit cost? How it was worn by the late highness himself.” Naoya’s screeching, voice shrill. Pointing a finger accusingly at you, it would be menacing if it wasn’t for the big, fat droplets of red dripping from his angry features. More of a drenched cat than the gentleman he pretends to be. “Remember that I’m doing you a favor by marrying you-”

You cross your arms, struggling to keep composure. “I shall reimburse-”

“-and acting all haughty as if you were from the royal family itself.” he’s frantic, mouth running a mile a minute. Tugging at his wet strands, “And my hair, oh my beautiful beautiful hair-”

“I shall reimburse the emotional damages, too!”

Dutchess Zenin tackles her son into a soothing embrace you find almost comical, granting you with a venomous glare that you were sure if looks could kill, she’d be lowering you into your grave and waltzing over it with Naoya already.

Simpering, “It’s quite alright my poor boy, this wedding cannot take place! We can find another-”

“No no no- no, I still want to marry her-” His greedy eyes sweep your trembling figure up and down, “Doesn’t matter if she’s an unfit wife, I’ll fix her up-” You’re quirking a brow, “Swear I’ll marry her and fix her up into-”

THUD!

You’re throwing the cup remaining in your hand as hard as you can, hitting Naoya right in the bullseye of his chest. And as soon as the air leaves his lungs, they leave yours too - in a stubborn, infuriated hiss, “Well, I’d never marry a spoiled, pompous brat like you.”

And with a flick of the stray beads of wine on your fingers at his face for good measure, you lift your heavy skirts as scandalously far as they’d travel to dart out of the door.

Out of the winding corridors. 

Out of the Zenin Estate. 

Ignoring every call of your name, every arm reaching out for you - urgently following your feet wherever they took you. Honestly, you’re so busy gasping in deep lungfuls of the cool, fall air embracing you that you’re half-surprised you only crash into a few people on the streets. 

Again. And again. And again and again, yet never stopping. Afraid of being followed by Naoya. Or even worse - your parents.

You barely even slow down until your tailored shoes crunch against gray snow, eyes taking in lines upon lines of towering trees in front of you. Tall, towering. Weaving their branches with the sky - ominous, almost, against the steadily darkening night creeping its way in.

The forest, you’re realizing with a gasp. Have you really come this far? 

Taking a glimpse over your shoulder at the twinkling lights of the town in the distance, you think of the vows that were waiting for you, and the town rumors you’d definitely sparked. Well, a walk to cool off wouldn’t hurt…

And despite wanting to relax, your thoughts only churn with each step. Replaying the scenes from earlier over and over and-

“And your cup will always- fuck- they probably think I’m such a fool.” you’re spitting, kicking at a pile of snow. “Fuck Naoya and his vows, fuck that stupid wine, should’ve shoved it up his-” 

Just then, a sudden gust of fall air puffs up against your ear, sending goosebumps careening down every bit of your exposed skin. You shudder sharply, hands shovelling for warmth inside your gown’s pockets, “Ugh, today’s such a horrible-” Only to cut yourself off with a gasp- “This is…”

You feel for that metallic cold again, hastily pulling out that solid, silvery ring. Meant for Naoya Zenin.

Admittedly gorgeous, an intricate band with a delicate sapphire embedded in its middle. Your mother had spent months tracking down the best jeweler in the country to forge a ring that even the Zenin’s would be impressed with. 

Fit for a king.

You scoff, “An unfit wife, my ass. It’s not even that difficult.”

Still feeling highly insulted, and only slightly embarrassed for it, you clear your throat. Speaking clearly into the stiff air, “With this hand, I will lift your sorrows.” Determinedly you stride your way into the middle of a slight clearing, “Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine.”

Grasping a stray branch, you mock lighting the altar candles. “With this candle, I will light your way in the darkness.”

Before setting down on one knee - customary for the groom, yet feeling so right when you gaze down at a tree root sticking up from the blanket of snow. Poised like the prettiest of fingers at the foot of a towering oak.

“With this ring,” You’re sliding it down easily as you would have to onto the man you hated the most. “I ask you to be mine.”

.

.

.

You don’t expect the sudden shift. 

You don’t expect the wind to pick up, you don’t expect for a murder of crows to materialize from the midnight darkness and crowd on a tree right behind you. Letting the tree root slip from your fingers, you whirl around - what- a storm?

But before you can think of any answers, that withered branch shoots further out of the ground. Barely giving you a split-second to jump backwards before cupping your cheek, gently. 

And you could’ve sworn that one twig glides across your cheek - just the way one’s thumb would have. Like the softest of lovers. 

Gasping in fear, you fall backwards, splaying out into the uncomfortably bone-chilling snow below.

You can only watch as the tree root twitches once. Twice. And your ears thunder with the high-pitched howls of the wind, and a sudden, booming bang! bang! bang!

Shit. 

Your eyes widen, it was coming from under the ground. 

The ground that was splitting open before your very eyes. 

Wider. And wider. Like something was baring itself before you. Something was clawing all the way from hell, that tree root only surging up, up, upwards in a long, limb-like fashion. Branching out into five fingers that dig their way into the ground. Hard. 

And if you didn’t think you were about to faint from just this - you were definitely on the verge of it when the fingers lead their way into a forearm, a shoulder. Miles upon miles of skin - a person, towering above you, silhouetted by moonlight.

He looks at you with sapphire eyes. Close. 

A man.

Beautiful. 

Whispering, “I do.” Nose to cold nose, thick white lashes fluttering shut. “You may now kiss the groom.”

---

You’re barely half-awake when you realize that that was probably the strangest dream you’ve had in your life. 

Groaning, you rub blearily at your eyes - yet, through the bursts of stars and pounding flashes of headaches, all you can think about is him and his chilling lips on yours.

Soft, like a leaving lover.  

Even in your most feverish of dreams, you’d never conjured up anyone so ethereal. Tall, powerful despite the almost-sickly air about him, and the deep circles underneath his gleaming eyes. 

But so gorgeous - sorrowfully so. 

The image burned permanently into your mind, like your most favorite of memories. Every tiny detail down from the almost-blinding reflection of the moon against his cloudy hair, to how that illuminated his soft smile - that tiny dimple at the corner of his pert, pretty mouth. 

You remember how he wore a wedding suit, the kind that nobles these days wouldn’t dare touch with a six foot sword with how it looked centuries out of fashion. Stark white, with fine silver detailing down the velvety fabric for you to admire.

How ironic, somehow, the thought made you sad.

But most of all, you especially remember the way he looked at you.

Just like he was right now.

“Ah!”

“Now that’s not usually the reaction I- fuck!”

He was real. So painfully real.

And clutching his face where you’d claimed a swat at one of high cheekbones.

“Ouch, my wife has a real good arm on her, huh?” Blinking back the haziness in your eyes, you catch sight of that same summer blue gaze, eyes crinkled slightly at the ends. Tender, despite being attacked by you less than a minute after gaining consciousness. “Though, I love a strong woman.”

“New arrival! Looks like we got ourselves a breather-”

“Looks like she fainted, is she alright? You know we can’t keep her long-”

“Can I touch her? Looks so soft~”

White - white fills your vision, too-late are you realizing that you’re being pressed into the soft coat of his chest. Inching you away from a hulking, four-armed creature, he mutters, “She’s my wife, you curse.”

“What-” It takes you a few more seconds to finally find your voice. In those moments you look up to take in his boyishly pretty features - about your age. Human, had it not been for that otherworldly faint blue pallor. “Is this a joke? Where am-”

Choking on your words as you take a sweeping look around the - tavern? Realm? It looked like the very same one in your own town, except bright. Musical. Everything that your home wasn’t. Finding faces you could never imagine looking at you - some beautiful, some mere skeletons, all taken out of your wildest dreams. 

And all dead, it hits you with a jolt. 

Yet, somehow, you’ve never felt safer in his arms. 

“Something wrong, my love?”

You pinch yourself, “I need questions- now.”

“You mean answers.” One from the pub crowd scoffs - a towering man, handsome. He’d look ever-so-ordinary if it wasn’t for the completely skeletal arm on his left side. And of course, that same death-like serenity. “Honestly, Gojo, you picked an airhead or what?”

The man that still held you - Gojo, you assume - whines in protest, “Shut up, Toji. I’d always love her regardless- and she said her vows so perfectly.”

“I did…” you breathe.

Shit. 

Shit shit shit- you did.

Cocking your head, you ask. “Who are you?” 

He’s rolling his eyes, gifting you a crooked grin of pearly whites. “Your husband, obviously?”

And before you can pinch yourself again to make sure you weren’t dreaming, and that last time was a fluke - or perhaps smack him again - Gojo shows off one slender hand. Naoya Zenin’s ring adorned proudly across his ring finger. Your ring. With your vows. 

“So…” you let out a giggle of still disbelief. “You’re the tree-”

“Not quite but-”

“Oh! I love this story- could make a skeleton cry.”

“Heh, yeah yeah sing it, king of curses.”

“Please don’t.”

“You see, welcome to the Land of the Dead, doll.” A man with pink hair sets down his drink to throw one of his four arms around your shoulder, much to Gojo’s chagrin. Words dripping with taunt,  “N’ lemme tell you the story of our lovely corpse groom.”

You’re dragged along through the crowded, eerily lit tavern, everyone jostling each other to better get a look at you. Poking and prodding, some even gasping at the feeling of your thundering pulse. 

He hums, “Here we have a pompous prince known miles around-” And you could tell him and Gojo had already known each other long, with how he was toying with the other man. “-fell hard and fast for a cute lil’ peasant girl much like yourself-”

“Sukuna, stop it.” Gojo grits, jaw clenched. 

“-but, alas. When dear ol’ dad the king said ‘no’, he jus’ couldn’t cope. So our dear lovers came up with a plan to elope-”

You’re thrust into the arms of an attractive blond man, almost half of his entire face held together with stitches and bone. Heaving out a sigh in a way you could very much feel akin to, “Meeting up late at night is always a stupid plan, even with all the wine and riches for the road. You might not need much when you have love, but you never know what’s lurking. And, well, on that dark night, our prince here paid the price.” When you look back at the white-haired man his eyes seemed significantly softer, if that was even possible. 

Toji’s the one by your side this time, “Poof! Dropped dead as dust waiting for his dear girl, no evidence, no body, no bride. What a crybaby he was when he arrived. Didn’t even want to stay here-”

“-because then he made a promise to wait upstairs.” Another man - with such gorgeous, long hair makes himself known this time. Forehead littered in strange stitches, as if it’d been opened and fixed many, many times. “And waited and waited asleep for one hundred years to this day until out of the blue, you came along, sweetness. The lovely bride, to our corpse groom.”

You. 

And Gojo looks at you like he can’t look away.

Lone, standing there with his arms open as the story tapers out. Waiting. 

Until you came along.

---

“HERE YE, HERE YE…FUTURE BRIDE OF ZENIN HOUSE SEEN LURKING IN THE FOREST WITH A MYSTERY MAN– now for the weather…” 

“What?” your mother hisses at the bellows of the local newsman, well, rumor-spreader, more like. But he’s never been more useful than now. Sneaking an urgent glance at the stunned Dutchess Zenin by her side, she elbows your father, “We come outside to search for our daughter only to hear this? How could we let this-”

“Maybe it’s a ah- slow news day?”

They’re interrupted by a sudden, sharp clearing of one’s throat - dripping with the distinct tone of condescension that only a member of the Zenin family could possess. “We are one bride short for the wedding tomorrow. What a scandal!” 

“Ah!” she’s gasping. Waving her hands frantically, “W-we promise we’ll find her before the wedding-”

“You better.”

“No.” Naoya Zenin’s voice was brimming with something dangerous, an eerie, steady lilt of determination to it. But he’s not even looking at anyone in the group, eyes trained firmly on the woody entrance to the forest in the distance. “I’ll be the one to find her.”

Finally, something that seems to appease the huffing matriarch.

Only leaving her sullen son with a nod of approval, “And Naoya…” She makes sure the other two bothers were out of earshot, greedily scurrying back to the warmth of the Zenin household. “Remember, the ah- family funds are drying up. Hurry.”

---

Gojo Satoru, you learn, was as nervous about this marriage as you were.

“This is where I always visited after first dying.” he muses, ice-cold fingers wrapped snugly with yours as he guides you gently through various crooked stairs and skeletons of town. “The view takes my breath away- well, if I could breathe, that is.”

You’re startling out a laugh that has both of you surprised, and he turns to you with such breathless awe. 

“Beautiful.”

“What-” your eyes widen - and you don’t know whether it’s from his sudden little compliment, or from where you two had finally stopped walking. 

A steep cliff, overlooking the entire, vast town of multi-color lights. The rigid structure from where you came could never compare. Complete chaos. But as pretty as those paintings you read about in books, views you never thought you’d see. 

You rest your hands atop the spindly barrier surrounding the very edge, marveling. “It is beautiful…”

“It is.” Gojo’s tone is rich, and his eyes never stray from you despite all else there is to drink in. It takes you a few moments of counting all the bustling figures in the distance before you finally mount up the courage to meet his hypnotic gaze. 

Gojo jolts when you look his way, as if he wasn’t expecting it. Hastily, he flusters to pat down the sides of his suit - tattered at places, patchy as if once-pristine but ruined with age. He’s smiling once he ruffles through his breast pocket, pulling out something glinting.

You’re letting out a tiny gasp when he shows off a silver, heart-shaped locket. Intricate, obviously custom-tailored - you’d never quite seen anything like it. Positively beaming with all the shine that the rest of him had lost. 

Treasured. 

“It’s for you.”

“What?” Your jaw falls slack in shock, pushing away Gojo’s held-out hands. But he was ever-persistent. “Please- I can’t, that- that looks like it should be for someone precious.” 

“And it is.” 

This was the firmest you’d heard his sing-song voice, and at your slightest split-second of faltering, he snatches the opportunity to circle his hands around your neck. Deftly clasping it from behind, Gojo only smiles, soft pads of his fingers lingering at your nape. “I’ve had it for years.” You wanted to know exactly how many years that meant. “Consider it a wedding gift~”

Your own dust over the cool metal pendant, heart lurching. “If only you let me know about our wedding in advance, I would’ve gifted you something, too.”

“Heh, you don’t have to.”

“Do too”

“Do not.”

“Do too.” You cross your arms, boring your eyes into his. “I’m not going to be an unfit wife.”

There’s a second of silence. 

One.

Two.

And at this point, you half-expected your parents and Naoya’s to just burst from behind the nearby stairway to tell you this was all some elaborate test - before Gojo just explodes in peels of cackles. 

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry I- hah!” he’s barely able to wheeze out, wiping away stray tears of joy. “You never change, huh-” 

It takes the embarrassed tapping of your feet for Gojo to finally straighten back up to his tall figure, muttering out a few more indiscernible phrases underneath his breath. Clearing his throat, “Now who said you’d ever be an ‘unfit wife’, sweetheart- Y’know I really didn’t believe Toji’s airhead comment but- oh-”

You land a half-hearted punch solidly in his stomach - and usually, you’d think twice, thrice before acting this familiar with anyone. Even then, you wouldn’t follow through underneath your mother’s watchful eye. 

Ah, but you’ve never smiled harder when you claim. “I think I won our first argument as a married couple.”

“Oh, can you do this f’me when I have an argument with Sukuna, next?” Gojo chuckles, wiggling his brows. 

He has to dodge your playful hand a few more times - well, he would have had to. But he’s taking them all gladly, pulling you by the wrist to press you flush against his chest. “But fine, you win. Maybe as a wedding gift we can consumm- I’m kidding I’m kidding- follow me, I have the perfect idea.”

And you couldn’t not come with him, with the way that Gojo was eagerly dragging you through the town plaza and back into the now-empty tavern, where you’d remembered had a grand piano nestled away.

Gojo’s pulling out the seat for you, before promptly taking his own flush beside you. Nudging you with one of his shoulders, he starts up a beautifully haunting few lower notes. Delicate. “You don’t have to play, you can listen if you’d like-”

“Hey, I know this one.” you’re gasping, eyes lighting up with the recognition of that familiar somber from the Zenin house. But something about it this time felt so right. 

Before you know it, your hands are moving faster than you can hold them back, joining Gojo in his sweeping melody on the higher notes. It rings in the air around you two, jostling your body up against his. 

“You know it.” he breathes, such a brilliant grin making way onto his pretty features when you two continue your little duet. And you swear you could hear him suck in a sharp inhale before playing even harder on the keys - a challenge.

And you were never one to back down. 

“Heh, you’re not half bad-” But his own little boast gets cut off by Gojo’s half-skeletal wrist snapping off, twiddling up, up, up the grand piano and on its merry way around your shoulder. “Pardon my enthusiasm, my love.”

You help him reattach it back, an interesting quirk of being half-dead, you suppose. “I like your enthusiasm.”

There’s a slow, stuttering silence that echoes afterwards, and you’re shivering from the slightly cold bite of the underground. Gojo wraps his full arm around your shoulder this time, and you don’t have the heart to tell him that he was still bone-cold. 

“How…” he gulps, barely meeting your eyes. “How did you know that song?”

But you couldn’t tear yours away from him, “Oh? That song? Well- before I uh- married you, I was actually engaged-”

His pretty lips fall slack, “Oh…”

You’re not sure why you hasten to explain yourself, “B-but he was a prick- and I threw a wine cup at him just before coming here.”

“That’s my girl.” Gojo winks, and you’re feeling your skin heat up.

“Anyway, this song was to be played at the wedding. So my mother made me memorize every single note- she failed to tell me it was a duet, however.”

“It was.”

Something about those two words comes out breathless, barely hanging on. And you’re biting your bottom lip ragged before the question escapes you, “You were engaged, as well? Before- as a prince- I mean- oh, forget-”

To your surprise, Gojo only chuckles - deep voice breaking ever-so-slightly at the very end. His fingers glide across the piano with a familiar sadness that you can’t quite pinpoint. Chest rumbling, “Well, it’s just as the others said. We were meant to run away together, but your dear ol’ husband here died just before we could.” 

You’re swallowing the lead that’d seemed to piled up heavily in your throat, still afraid to push too far. “And the- the bride? What happened to her?”

“I…don’t know…she probably saw I wasn’t there and went back, had a happier life with a more deserving husband- children, even.” He looks towards the perpetual night sky, Adam’s apple bobbing heftily. “It’s funny- today’s a hundred years since that day.”

Something hurt. And your chest churned at the thought of him waiting and waiting in the darkness for years. For someone.

“You loved her?”

He looks at you - really looks at you - and then down at the gleaming locket. “I love her. And I made a promise, I wait for her - in life and death.”

Something really hurt - and it wasn’t just that hollow, aching burn in your chest. No, your head was now throbbing with such a splitting pain that you can’t help but grab your temple with a yelp. Eyes scrunching shut with tears, trying to down out that drilling thrum. 

“Shit-” you’re hearing, foggy, like it was in the distance. “Shit shit shit-” Big arms wrap around you, “Are you alright? Shit-”

The swinging pub doors slam-

“What happened?”

“The bride from upstairs-”

“She’s still here?! She already dead or what?”

More and more voices are joining in - and you’re not sure if you’re thankful that they drown out that harrowing thunder of blood in your ears or angry that they’re making it ache more deafeningly in response. 

“Please- space.” Gojo’s stern command rings across the plaza, for a moment of clarity you’re thinking that he’d make the perfect leader of sorts. The perfect prince. “My wife needs space, and you all will leave-”

Nanami’s strict tremor was distinguishable anywhere. “What she needs is to go back upstairs, Gojo.” Another pair of rough hands grasp your shoulders, and you hear a growl from above you. “With fresh air, with her kind. I don’t know what fantasy you’re playing out but she needs to be back with the breathers, down here isn’t good for her.”

“But-”

Just at that unfortunate moment, your head wracks with another painful burst, making you cry out. Clinging onto Gojo’s soft jacket for dear life. 

“But she’s my wife.”

Everyone goes quiet. 

You were sure he was crying now, and oh how badly you wanted to reach out and comfort him. But, instead, Gojo’s the one soothing a hand down your back, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. He breathes in deep, grounding gasps by the chain of your locket, “N-nanamin’s right- we- I have to get you back.”

Your eyes shoot open, “What- no-”

“It’s for your own good.” Pressing a slow kiss to your forehead, “Trust me.”

“But-”

“Please?”

---

Gojo Satoru had spent so long in the darkness, that he’d almost forgotten how beautiful the moonlight is.

Even more so when you were by his side. 

“Oh…” And despite not having a beating heart, he swears he could feel it racing at the crisp scrunch! of freshly fallen snow underneath his polished shoes. Arms immediately wrapping around your waist, twirling you to him, “How I missed the beautiful upstairs.”

You’re giggling, batting your lashes up at him. “Well, you’re not doing much sightseeing right now, are you, Gojo?”

“Please.” He rests his icy forehead against yours, waltzing you slowly around the clearing. Your first dance. “Call me Satoru, I would like to part ways having heard my name on your tongue once, than not at all.” 

And ah, it hurt him more than that dull, spreading pain of death to simply see your expression crumble. Lower lip wobbling when you whisper, “Do we have to?”

It’s as if that tiny tremble in your voice jolts him back to his senses, and he’s letting go of you as if you burned. Turning his back so that you won’t see him swipe underneath his dampening eyes, “We do.” he nods solemnly. Still gazing out through the barren trees, the snow breaking in. “But I would…if you’d like- I would really like you to say my name just once.”

Nothing - not one of your quipping insults, not even one of your sweet, sweet giggles. Gojo could barely even hear that shallow breathing of yours. 

“My love?”

Nothing.

Gojo whirls around, “My love?”

Nothing. 

---

“Let me go let me- go-” you spit, voice dripping with a deadly growl that should decidedly not be used in front of your future in-laws. But you didn’t give a fuck right now. “I will never- ah-”

Unceremoniously, you’re thrown like a mere debris in front of Dutchess Zenin’s gold-tipped boots, hands splaying out against the cool marble to dredge up some ounce of balance. You look up into her burning glare, hissing, “I will never marry your son.” 

But it’s like you’d never spoken at all.

She’s turning to Naoya, stood proudly behind you, holding back his snickers. “Ah, my son-” Reaching her arms around to brush off the soft pattering of snow down his coat. “-I see you’ve brought your wife back.”

“Of course, mother.” he’s humming. “Had to walk all throughout that crummy forest until I saw her-” At this, he’s turning towards your parents, who could only watch from the sidelines. “-with another man no less- well, can’t quite call him that if he didn’t even see his woman being dragged off into the dark.”

Dutchess Zenin cackles,and the sound makes you grit your teeth. “That other man is my husband-”

“What?” 

It’s your own mother speaking this time - eyes widened. Fuming. She comes up to you in a few urgent, sharp strides, grabbing at the now-torn and frayed edges of your gown. “What nonsense are you speaking-” Sneaking a glance at your father, “Our daughter seems to have lost her mind, dear.”

He’s just a bit more gentle - cautious, almost. As if confronting a cornered wildcat when he ruffles through your pockets for the ring. Finding none. 

You’re wrenching yourself away, “I’m fine- but father, listen- I was practicing my vows in the forest-” Every eye was on you know, and oh you’ve never felt more of a spectacle. “-and I put that wedding ring on a tree root- and it- it came alive and oh- he was a groom. A beautiful corpse groom-”

“That trip to the forest must have bogged up her mind- yes yes, she must be imagining things.”

“Of course, but the wedding…poor dear-”

“The only thing she’s good for is the money.” Dutchess Zenin gruffs, tired of hiding her disdain. “And maybe a free trip to the hospi-”

“The wedding will take place.” Naoya cuts in gruffly, snapping his fingers at a nearby attendant and pointing at you. “Call the officiary, and as for my future bride, I don’t care if you must force her into that wedding dress, I don’t care if you have to drag her here - she will marry me one way or the other. Now.”

It’s like you’re a puppet - their puppet. Being rapidly walked and bathed about, dolled-up in a white, silken wedding dress that you could never see yourself standing in next to him. 

It fits you like a glove, attuned to your body as if it was made for you - and you almost hated how beautiful it was, adorned with tiny silver inklings and the most delicate of lace. Made with too much love to be borne out of this dreary household, but when you turned to ask your jittery handmaiden about it, she’d only cryptically answered about “the dress being with this family for a long, long time.”

No one here seems to give you answers.

Or grace.

Or anything but locked windows that you crack a nail or two attempting to open and flee and a long, decorated aisle to walk down to your future husband. Naoya. 

Your throat tightens when you’re stepping back into that hallway - now flourishing with bouquets of blue, blue baby’s breath, and twinkling candles. It was almost colorful, for this town, at least.

You shudder out a teary sigh when the tender piano starts up again - the exact same tune you’d played with Gojo. But cold. And suddenly, you’re realizing that you never asked him how he knew the song.

“Pssst! Walk!” Your mother’s high-pitched hiss is enough to snap you out of your little reverie, glassy eyes snapping up to look at her urgent signal to hurry up.

And so you walk, but not to the one man you wanted to.

Naoya’s smirk lies as smugly as ever when you take your place beside him at the altar, poised, and perfect in his pressed suit, his glinting sword. Whispering snidely from the corner of his mouth. “Smile a little, it’s a wedding after all.”

You keep your gaze trained firmly on the officiary starting his speech, “Perhaps in disappointment, we are perfectly matched.”

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join this man and this bride in holy matrimony-” Gesturing a wrinkled hand at Naoya, “You may begin first.”

He raises his hand in a solemn oath, razor eyes boring relentlessly into yours. Voice dangerous, humming. “With this hand, I will lift your sorrows.” This time, he was pointedly the one to pick up that cup on the altar table - a steady, unbreakable metal this time. “Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine.” 

Your trembly fingers wrap around the bottle of wine, starting to slowly pour. “With this hand, I will lift your sorrows. Your cup will never be empty for I- I will be…”

Shit.

Shit, you can’t do it. 

Your words struggle to come out, and you could burn in the sheer anger already wafting from Naoya. 

“I will- I will be-”

“How scandalous to marry an already-married woman~!”

The gasp that echoes throughout the hall is almost as deafening as the booming crash! of those towering, mahogany doors being swung open. Clattering against the walls so hard that your teeth chatter with vibration - but you didn’t care. Didn’t even feel it because you’re too awe-struck by what was standing in front of you.

Or more accurately, who. 

“Satoru!” The tears are falling hotly down your cheeks, you barely have the patience to lift up your layers upon layers of gauzy skirts before stumbling your way into his arms at the very end of the aisle. Ready. Ever-loving. Catching you easily like he’d been waiting a hundred years for this very moment. 

“I thought you left me waiting.” he breathes.

“I would never- and- and you’re here.” 

“Mhm–”

You can’t help but let out a laugh, “How did you even know where to find me?”

“Our duet- there would be no other but this house that would know it-” He wraps his arms even more snugly around your waist, white locks tickling your nose. “And you did promise to lift my sorrows, what type of husband would I be if I didn’t do the same?”

“You. You- What- what is the meaning of this?” Dutchess Zenin’s squawk tears through your little moment, she’s whirling into a furious stand, fists clenched. “Married woman- husband? You’re dead!”

Gojo remains calm, sapphire eyes narrowing, “I am.”

But the ever-composed woman you’d feared for so long was now running her mouth a mile a minute, half-ripping out chunks of hair in frustration as the officiary held her back from storming her way towards the two of you. 

“You’re dead you’re dead you’re dead-” she screeches, and even Naoya could only watch with his mouth fallen. “You’re dead- my family made sure of that-”

She stops short, mouth opening and closing in a gasp until you breathe, “M-made sure?”

“Yes-” She’s fighting against the hold, still muttering to herself maniacally. “Shit- we made sure to- oh god why- do we have to kill you all over again! Your wretched Gojo royal family is wiped out- I still- I still have the power, the riches- All because we left you-”

“For dead.” he whispers. You’re too shocked to gasp - to do anything but look up at his reaction. “But she came back to me.”

“Her? This one- Once more you found that insignificant little-”

And at this very moment, Naoya just bellows in a guttural scream, everything his mother was restrained from doing with how he’d closed the gap between you two in a few urgent seconds. One hand wrapped roughly around yours, “I don’t care- You forget she was engaged to me first.”

“She’s still my wife.” Gojo spits. 

“Not if you’re-” Naoya’s unsheathing his sword haphazardly. Swinging. “Dead!”

Schwing–!

It would have been sure to hit you. 

Would have been sure to gravely injure your side - if Gojo hadn’t deftly moved himself squarely in front of you, that is. The sharp blade slicing right through his ribs - yet, he still smiles. “You forget I already am.” In one, fluid motion tackling the sword to holt at its bejeweled hilt - pointed right at Naoya’s chest. “Let go of me and my wife, before you join me.”

It’s silence.

Silence and the smell of fear. Sour, and saturated when Naoya’s stepping away, one unsteady foot after the other-

“I will ruin you as my ancestors have, Gojo brat-”

Dutchess Zenin.

Your body moves before your mind - before any form of thinking, as if on instinct. Yet, you already knew what was coming. 

And soon enough, you’re standing in front of a stunned Gojo, face splattered with the red, red wine in her silvery cup. Drip! drip! dripping down your stained lips and onto the marbled floors. 

But something about it tasted bitter. 

Different.

.

.

.

And all of a sudden - you see dark.

“Poison! By gods, the wine was poisoned!”

“How will the wedding go on?”

“No- no no no I just wanted to her sick- to get her will–shit-”

“My love---listen----hear--me?” 

In the foggy distance, you could hear girlish, high-pitched screams that sounded strangely like Naoya’s, and the familiarly dark chuckle of- Sukuna? Sounding ready to pounce on fresh meat. “Heheh, new arrival - and some unfinished business, huh?”

“S’Toru–” you’re whispering, eyes blearily. Heart cold. Suddenly, everything about you was cold. And the only thing you could register right now is the fact that you were still in his arms - always was. “Toru- am I- where am I?”

“You’re here, sweetheart.” he gasps, big fat tears splattering onto your face. The only sense of warmth that you could feel, other than the one in your no-longer-beating heart. And you can’t help but wonder - can a heart be broken even when it stops beating? Because he was living two deaths now - his own - laying there poisoned with wine so long ago on the forest floor, with only the Zenin’s to watch, and you to wait for him much later - and most importantly, yours. “You’re- you’re here, with me.” He places a sweet, sweet kiss onto your lips. “Rest now, I’ll wait for you. I promise- I promise.” 

And through your hazy vision, the only thing that you could quite see was that silver locket you’d never thought to look through, out of fear - sprung open. Baring two grainy, clouded portraits - as good as a photo. 

Of him 

And…you. 

“I’ll always wait for you, in life and death.”

---

“Hey- Toru–” your voice rings out in Gojo’s favorite song, peering curiously at the boyishly grinning prince. “Do you think I’ll be an unfit wife?”

He throws his head back with a cackle, peering through his long lashes from where he was resting his head in your lap. “What- no? Whatever makes you think that, silly girl?”

You’re settling yourself further down the young oak - your favorite little hiding spot ever since you’d introduced your secret lover to it. Grumbling half-jokingly, you thread your fingers through his soft, snow-white hair. “Well perhaps because someone refuses to help me do anything in preparation for tonight-”

“Shhh!” Gojo’s bringing a finger to his lips, glancing around over-dramatically. “You never know when my father will be jumping from behind the bushes.” At your amused laughter, “N’ besides, doesn’t matter if we’re going to elope, I’m not letting my wife pick up a thing.”

“What- no-”

“I’ll snag my wedding suit- and that specially-made dress for you heh- and get the attendants to sneak out some leftovers from the banquet. The Zenin family has just gifted some wine I know you’ll love.” 

Craning his head to press a slow kiss to your forehead, “We’ll drink, we’ll say our vows- you better have memorized them this time-” And another on your nose, “Then I’ll have you drunk in another way~ ow! Okay okay- don’t hit royalty–! And run away to our happily ever after.” Then, finally, lingeringly on your mouth,“Trust me.”

“But-”

“Please?”

You’re fiddling with the chain around your hefty, heart-shaped locket with a huff, finally caving in. “Fine- but then-” Deftly unclasping it, “-you have the responsibility of keeping this safe, too, I have to teach piano to the little ones in town again today, and if anyone catches me with a piece like this I’ll be hanged for thievery before ever getting married.”

“Our duet?”

“Our duet.”

He twirls that delicate pendant around his fingers, brows scrunching in half-seriousness. “I’ll protect it with my life-” Almost flinging it towards the end of the clearing in his haste to salute you, “Ah- pardon my enthusiasm, my love.”

“I like your enthusiasm, dummy.” you’re rolling your eyes at his antics. “But what if I’m late? The music lessons always take so long…”

“Just meet me here at our place - promise I’ll wait for you, of course. In life and death.”

You never did find out if Gojo Satoru waited for you.

You never found him that night - running late to the clearing, only to be met with no sign of him. Not that night. Not the night after. Night after night, you waited for him - watched as the Gojo royal family fell and the Zenin’s raided their palace, as the town started to grow and you stayed the very same.

With stray hope, even in your final ages, waiting for him and the marriage that won’t take place.

Not for a hundred years.

---

You’re waking up remembering the feeling of those cold, cold lips on yours. 

Finally, remembering.

“Sa-Toru-” you’re gasping, gulping in heavy lungfuls of air before you realize - you don’t need it anymore. Eyes startling open, you wince at the even the dim, heady lighting overhead. “I’m…”

“Dead.”

His words are gentle - just above a whisper, as if anything else will scare you off. But his words have the complete opposite reaction, in fact, you’re reeling him in so close by the silvery lapels of his weathered jacket. Wedding suit meeting your wedding dress.

You feel over his broad chest, and then over yours. Breathing out in awe, “I- I really am dead.”

Gojo’s wincing, running the soft pads of his fingers down your scalp. Massaging, “How- how do you feel, my love?”

Too-late you’re realizing that you’re splayed out on what seems like a plush, engulfing bed. Blankets upon blankets of velvety fabrics covering the surface, like someone had tried their very best to replicate warmth. 

“I think I feel…” you’re muttering, the very corners of your painted lips turning upwards at the way that Gojo was hanging onto your every word. Pretty mouth dropped into a soft oh! eyes wide and true. You just can’t help but drag him into the tightest embrace your joints could possibly handle. “-that I haven’t spent enough alone-time with my husband.”

He laughs - he laughs and laughs like he hasn’t before, like it’d been bubbling up in his throat for years and finally set free. 

“Oh, my love.” Gojo reveres, pressing a trail of hot kisses down the side of your face. Lingering in a languid lick where big, salty tears of yours were welling up. “We have all the time in the world- I just- just- do you remember?”

You’re pretending to think, leaving him careening at all your minute expressions. Finally cracking, “Of course, I remember- all of it, dummy-” Swatting his chest, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He’s gulping heavily, “I always knew that- that it was you the moment I saw your face- you look exactly as you did. Exactly as beautiful as the day I lost you, after all.” Cupping your cheek, “And oh, sweetheart, what a blessing it would be to marry you. But how could I ever tell you when you didn’t even remember me? How could I so selfishly ask you to throw away something so dear as life for me? Even for a promise?”

“I would have done it.” you’re pouting, brows scrunching. 

“Exactly.” 

“I waited for you, y’know. For years, until my death. No ‘deserving husband’, and no children.”

He gasps a tiny, meaningful gasp. And for all how Gojo loved to run his mouth, right now he only presses a sultry kiss to your forehead, “But in this life, or the last, or whatever comes next-” On your nose now, “-I’ll wait for you. Always have, always will.” Finally - yearningly - on your mouth, “In life and in death.”

Gojo kisses you like he’s been waiting a hundred years for it - and would wait a hundred more before he can again. 

Pressing one, two. Three steamingly hot, open-mouthed on your spit-glossed lips before moving to trail them down the underside of your jaw. Dragging his raw lips in a messy glide, he’s tittering when all it takes is one sudden bite at the soft spot on your neck to get you to jump. 

“Heh- you never change-” he murmurs into your heated skin, licking down the sting with a slow spread of his tongue. 

“T-Toru–” you’re managing to gasp out despite his relentless attack on your mouth. Making him wrench out such a pained grunt when you pull his face back ever-so-slightly to look into Gojo’s eyes. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Gojo can only cock his head in confusion, gaze still half-lidded and locked on your lips. 

“You’re forgetting your promise from all those years ago–” you’re dragging out in a honeyed-tone, giggling at the way his hulking body squirms impatiently. “-to consummate our marriage.”

And oh.

Oh, Gojo Satoru feels he’s dying six times over already. 

He feels like his bleary head is about to go into overdrive - as was the sudden tightening in his pants. 

“W-well then…” he’s rasping out, voice so ragged, dipping into a husky baritone that for a second you almost don’t recognize it. Two of his long fingers cup your face once more - rougher this time, making your lips squeeze together into an almost-embarrassing oh! “Open that mouth f’me, my love.”

You barely even realize it when you do - not until Gojo’s spitting a thick, translucent wad of his syrupy saliva right onto your lolling tongue. 

Nodding smugly when you’re taking him all, he’s swiping the curve of his thick thumb down that purposeful splatter on the corner of your lips. Because you knew the prince of a nation should have perfect aim, you knew he just liked seeing your dewy eyes flutter. 

Whispering hoarsely against your lips, “I ask you to be mine.”

“Yes-” you’re whining, your hands scrambling down the decadent fabrics of his suit. “Yes yes yes- please- n-need more, Toru-”

And the sound of that cute lil’ nickname you’d made for him in that sweetened tone makes Gojo’s entire body wrack with a violent shudder. Head throwing back, white lashes flickering shut- “O-oh, shit- shit you’re gonna be the death of me-”

But whatever little joke playing on your tongue just dissipates when Gojo’s shedding his outer coat off slowly. Bloodied, silken jacket hitting the ground- bloodied? You’ll have to ask about that later.

And then his mouth is on yours again - teeth clashing, tasting metal, his pretty lips wrapping around your hot tongue to just suck. Lazily, like his favorite candy. 

“So beautiful-” his words puff out in a feverish pant. Chest huffing - no, heaving - you can only keen when you feel something so hard and massive nudge up in a gentle kiss against your high. “So perfect–” The sodden curve of his achy tip dragging in a wet smear down your leg. “So mine.”

As soon as you’re blinking your dazed eyes back open, you’re hit with what looked like miles upon miles of Gojo Satoru. Curving muscles sitting prettily and casting shadow in the low lighting - it made you just drool. 

Shit, when did he even take his shirt off?

“Heh, already so needy, sweetheart?” He kisses up the glossy trickle, groaning into your mouth, “So cute–”

But, of course, you weren’t exactly one to be pushed around, either.

With a low purr, you cup that bulging tent right in-between his muscled thighs. Fingers skimming over inches upon inches of his girthy, solid shaft - he just gasps. “O-oh, you little minx- do you enjoy p-playing with my hngh- sanity?”

With a snicker, it doesn’t take you long to smudge the pads of your digits at that thickly spreading pool of precum. Glossing a thin sheen all the way down to your wrists with how fucking greedily he was throbbing at your touch. 

“F-fuck-” he’s hastily clearing his throat as soon as it breaks off into a pathetic whine. Hips bucking forwards in mindless, staggering gyrations into your hand like Gojo didn’t even realize what he was doing right now. “Fuck fuck fuck- honey, I-”

The neediest little grunts spill from his puffed-up lips, and he’s moving urgently - hastily, when sitting upright to all but rip that bejeweled belt off of his slender waist. Tugging his white pants down, down, down and-

Oh. 

“Fuck, Toru.”

Gojo was so unfairly pretty - all of him.

Even every single inch of his long, thick shaft, smeared with glistening precum sobbing out from his fat, round head. Blushed darker than the rest of him - matching his innocent cheeks right now. So hard it looked painful. 

Twitching over and over in saturated gushes coating his prominently throbbing veins, his tight balls. Your fingers. 

Wrapping tight around his flushed base, he was so incredibly big that you’re worried your fingers wouldn’t even close. Scratching up against those drenched tufts of cloudy white at his toned pelvis, the sight is enough to make you gulp. 

“Yes-” Gojo’s rasping, head thrown back because shit did it feel good to have your pretty lil’ fingers all wrapped around him. Hips stuttering up, up, up- “Yes yes yes- c’mon- c-c’mon my wife-”

Shit, those words spilling from his lips are enough to steer into such a loud moan, and he’s letting his jaw fall unhinged. Jaw-droppingly powerful back muscles flexing when he falls into a hunch, kissing wetly at your lips. 

“Tighter- squeeze ah, squeeze me at my tip-” Gojo’s babbling, drunken eyes so thoroughly locked on where you were pumping your fist back and forth. “Y-yeah hngh- and glide your thumb over just—”

You’re swiping the very tip of your thumb underneath that sensitive slit of his, the slightest touch enough to make him bawl out in a dripping sheen of precum. Reddening even more, his hefty girth in your hand jolts sensitively. 

“S-s’this–” you stagger out, wrist aching when you’re moving it faster. And faster. Ears ringing with the sloppy fap! fap! fap! of your fingers clenching around his thick, circular girth, the splatters of precum it’s forcing from him. Kissing gently down his burning shoulder, “S’this good, Toru?”

And god, how dare you even ask that?

With a sudden groan, he crashes his lips into yours again. Addicted. Growling against your whiny mouth, you’re flinching at the nip of his sharp canines. 

“Oh, yer perfect-” he’s blinking back big, fat tears from behind those glassy eyes. And the soft plane of his palms dance ravenously down your body - all your curves, your dips where your wedding dress was hiking up. But most importantly at your sopping wet cunt. “-so so- p-perfect- any harder n’ m’gonna make ya a pretty momma right now, right here.”

His words come out a burst - a beg. 

In that very heady moment he’s just bullying his thick digits past your soaked pussy - absolutely useless with how fucking translucent it was. Sticking to your sopping wet folds like a second skin that he wanted to rip off. 

“S-so oh!” Sucking in a sharp gasp at the sight of that tiny lace wrapped around his fingers, “Such a pretty cunt, wearin’ such a dirty lil’ thing, naughty girl- who was this for?”

And you couldn’t dare bear to wrench your lips open, to meet that dark glint in Gojo’s gaze. Hooded, such a slow, leering grin growing all over his face when the seconds tumble by. When your softened fingers falter around his length.

“Who was this for?” he’s echoing. “N’ no lying to your h-husband.”

“Toru-”

“Tell me, my pretty wife.”

“It was-” you’re mewling out, choking on your tiny confession when he slides his index solidly down the drippingly wet purse of your swollen pussy lips. Puffed-up and sensitive against where he was rubbing that cool metal ring against them. “-w-was for ngh- N-Naoya- but it was Dutchess Zenin that made me-”

Oh, but fuck - it didn’t matter who made you wear those sinful panties. 

Because it’s only taking Gojo Satoru a split-second to crane his hot mouth downwards and bite down on the very hem of your saturated panties. Biting the edge of your skin only slightly - before just tearing the fabric off with his very teeth. 

He takes a few seconds with his greedy gaze boring into yours, crazed. Canines bared glintingly around that tender lace, he just groans. 

Eyes rolling to the back of his head before spitting it out - and kissing you like you’ve never been kissed before. 

“H-hngh, Toru–” you’re moaning, your fingers half-cramping up with the way they were turning around his swollen cock. Swiveling around the heated bumps of his sensitive spots, the drag of your nails gently down his veins make him shiver. “Feels so- ah!”

And ah, for how much Gojo loved those saccharine sweet moans in your ear, how much he loved teasing you - he was hungry. 

Shoveling all the way into your gummy channel, until your puffy pussy lips were kissing his very knuckles, gushing out in spurts of wet slick down his wrist. Twirling those cold digits, so stark against how toasty you were inside. 

It made Gojo’s thickened tip twitch in your fingers, huffing out a humorless laugh when he was easily knocking against that bulbous bullseye of your g-spot. Pressing down. Hard. 

“Mhm—” he’s purring, nosing down the tender crook of your neck. “Tell me how it feels- hngh- gotta tell me- fuck oh fuck don’ squeeze me like that- ah-”

He’s just wrenching out the most dripping squelches with each rummaging pump into your melty cunt, your walls were just molding around his digits. Sucking him back in like you’re trying to milk out something delicious- fuck, how he wished this was his achy cock right now, instead.

Gojo’s biting down hard at that magical spot on your neck, sending shocks of electricity down your sluttily arched spine. “Can’t- hah- can’t take it anymore- shit- needa be inside you soon. Needa fill ya up soon.”

And he didn’t even have to tell you - you could feel it. 

Building up and up with every relentless such of his glistening fingers. Glossy. 

“Need to make you mine-” he’s gasping, heatedly. Tone cracking on almost a bawl, his hips are fucking into your hand like his little cocksleeve, up all the way from weepy head down to thwack into his pulsing base. Fingers bumping messily into his taut, twitchy balls - making Gojo’s mouth water. “Need to- hngh- need to make you cum! Please-”

Tears crinkling at the very ends of his doe eyes, after every single crash along your sweet spot. Thorough wet glides. “Please please please-”

And it’s whispered over and over like a mantra when you’re cumming - again and again, so hard that you didn’t even realize you’re reaching your high before your tight pussy clamps around his fingers. 

“Yeah- yeah yeah, cum all over my fingers.” He’s thrusting his fingers in and out so rabidly, hitting all your forbidden spots. Free hand pushing apart your quivering thighs even further, “Spread wide- heheh, yeahhh–”

Those sudden slurps sounded so thunderous in your ears, and your maw sags open deliriously in a higher-pitched ah! ah! ah! Grinding your hips down over and over in needy swivels, using him. Music to his ears, making his staggering erection just weep so dangerously- but he can’t cum. 

Won’t cum just yet. 

Not until he’s fucked you through each and every one of your peaks, not until your convulses are tapering out into nothing but tiny tingles. 

And then he’s dragging out his ruined fingers from your sodden cunt - out, out, out. Snapping delicate strings of the mess he’s made of your poor pussy, before pushing them through his lips rawly. 

“M-mmm-” he’s rumbling from the very depths of his broad chest, pecs heaving. And through your half-lucid gaze, you’re spying a silvery dribble of drool down the side of his lips. Moaning at the sweet, sweet taste. “Shit- shit, sweetheart-”

You can’t even react before he’s then spitting a steady stream of wispy saliva down to your sloppy hole, swirling it around with one of his thumbs. 

“Better let her know m’coming back for seconds later.”

You whine all brattily, your hips arching into the perfect buck upwards - which only makes him grin. “Heh- my greedy girl, if I waited one hundred years ya can wait a few seconds.”

It’s so admonishing - and Gojo has never told a bigger lie. 

Because he’s the one that’s so painfully impatient right now, angry cock spewing out a few more velvety waves of precum down your gleaming palm. A low string of profanity rips from his throat, and he’s just diving his hands around every inch of your body he could reach.

Deftly untangling those tedious ties at the back, “Damn these little- forgot how many ribbons I fuckin’- ordered-”

In split-seconds, you’re being flipped over with one fluid push of Gojo’s biceps, sinking your front into the royally soft mattress. You felt like you were in heaven.

“Toru–” you’re whirling your head over your shoulder to admire just how much his biceps flex. Twitching with each eager rip down your bodice. Shaky fingers tightening on the silken sheets, “H-hurry up-”

“Easy there, my love.”

It’s ragged, breathed hotly against your ear, and suddenly Gojo’s resting every bit of his body weight on top of yours to pin you down helplessly onto the bed. Holding your squirming hips captive onto one rough hand attached to them, “Arch jus’ a bite more- please- fuuuck like that yeah-”

He’s taking the opportunity to fling your wedding dress down easily, bunching it somewhere towards the corner of the bedroom - right alongside your bra and inner layers. 

You’re gasping - stunned. 

“Don’t l-look at me like that, I’ve had one hundred hah- years to practice this exact moment with my hand n’ imagination-” 

And then Gojo’s gasping, he’s snapping his eyes open, he’s heaving out the most whiny call of your name when you push your hips back in a wet slide against his painfully hard cock. 

Your folds smacking wetly against his shaft, dragging in a dripping trail along his veins - and shit, Gojo really underestimated how fucking hot you’d feel against his cock. How readily awaiting when his slender hips rut down in a furious push and pull. “This is long overdue.”

“Hey!” you jut your spit-sheen lower lip out when he’s rudely smacking away your hand from the clasp of your locket. “Wha’s that for?”

“Keep it on.” Gojo nips at your earlobe.

And then he’s spitting you open - he’s pushing in. 

Inch by fucking inch of his swelteringly hot cock being shovelled into your gooey cunt, stretching out your snug walls to their limits. Pulled taut. Barely giving an apologetic kiss to the side of your head before Gojo’s circling one big beefy arm around your hips, easily tilting your entire body upwards for him to surge his hips even deeper. 

He gasps, he shudders at the faintest of your wet clenches. “C’mon-c’mon c’mon c’mon- a-ah- you can take it please- please take it f’me.” 

How could you not?

Because every one of his tiny, shallow grinds just to fit in have your mouth dropping further and further open cockdrunkenly. 

“Please-” your hands fist at the plushy pillows, the headboards, craning behind at Gojo’s neck. “Fuck me h-harder, Toru- I can-”

“Ohhh- you play a hah- dangerous game.” He swipes away the stray hairs on your forehead, kissing at your sweat-slicked forehead. “My beautiful bride- my beautiful, beautiful bride - ah- almost makes me wanna m-make you more.”

Just that split-second of sultry shock is enough for Gojo to push in fully - all the way until your thighs sting with the sudden thwack! of his hefty, cum-filled balls, your folds kissing up against his thickened base.

He’s hissing when his achy, rounded tip recoils ever-so-slightly against the spongy mess of your cervix, hitting it relentlessly in harsh jackhammer. Spearheading his fat cock to massage up against all your sensitive spots in a more dizzying way than even his fingers could. 

“Wh-what do you m-mean-” They’re falling from your mouth as hastily as Gojo can pump you stuffed full of his cock. Not even easing into it, starting up a sloppy cadence. “-b-by–”

“Awww, don’ hngh- p-push yourself, my love–” he’s simpering out. But oh his hips were speaking a completely different language from how soothing your husband’s tone was, one hand curling deftly around your throat to reel you in even harsher in sudden swats against his ever-pushing hips. Twirling around the chain of your locket, “What I mean is…”

Both of your half-lidded gazes are downturned to where he feels for that tiny nudge at about halfway down your stomach. Drawing an imaginary line about halfway through, before splaying down all five digits. Hard. “-that m’gonna make ya a pretty momma as well as my pretty wife.”

This little confession is followed by a particularly hard slam! from Gojo’s end, and you dart your hand out to grasp desperately onto the wooden headboard. 

Crying out, “Is- is that even possible, Toru?”

But the only actual response that Gojo can give - that he thinks himself capable of giving right now, with how mind-numbingly your pretty pussy was milking any rationality out of him - is a breathless chuckle. His head throwing back with a whimper, brows knitting together. “I don’t know hah! Haven’t got a fuckin’ clue- but that doesn’t mean m’not gonna fucking try–”

And he was fucking you into the mattress just like it, well and fully intent on breeding your tight cunt. Jostling the locket at your chest with rough, reckless abandon. Every sodden drag down your slobbery walls having those dreams from a lifetime ago about your happily every after playing through his mind.

You, with your drooling pussy painted all white with his potent cum, making such a mess of him that he just has to do it all over again, of course. 

You, all round and glowing - full of him, his heir. 

You, looking up at him with those gorgeous eyes - another, tinier set held delicately in your hands. His hair, and your smile. Everything that he’s ever wanted in life and death. 

Stupidly. Pussydrunkenly. 

“Oh oh-” Gojo’s groaning, the sudden bump of your fingers against the sensitive curve of his balls making him jolt back into his reality. His heavenly, heavenly reality. “Aww, have I b-been neglecting you, my love?”

No, you want to scream - but you can’t. 

Because he’s only hiking up a powerful thigh to pressurize his harrowing rams with even more power, and you could feel every flex and ripple of his washboard abs. The spatter of pearlescent beads of sweat setting in with fatigue. 

But Gojo wouldn’t listen in the first place, couldn’t even think of anything that didn’t stem from his achy cock pummeling into you. 

Messily, he’s swiping at those fingers of yours that were currently reaching for your angrily puffy clit, aching for more more more- 

Giving a mean little smack onto where your sensitive nub was drenched in all your sweetened juices, it sends bolts of electricity all over your body. Clinging your gummy walls around his girth so tight. 

“This what y-you wanted?” he rasps by your ear, drawing slow, determined circles on the very peak of your clit. And when that doesn’t have you crying out all prettily for him the way he wanted - Gojo just tugs. Unapologetically. “Tell me- ngh- tell me how it feels, fuck- can feel this cunt gettin’ so soaked-”

“Yes-” you’re sobbing out. Hips now aching with the burn of pushing back into his unrelenting hips - it hurts almost. The sting of his skin against you, the hard collision of his fat head against your cervix. But you want more. “Y-yes feels so good, Toru- need more hngh- need you t-to…”

“What?” he’s spitting. Wild. “Tell me, sweetheart- please- please-”

And, hell, Gojo Satoru wanted to hear so badly that he’s just slowing his hips down every so slightly to let you catch your breath. To answer. 

But what he was actually blessed with was another one of your long, drawn-out whines. Grumbling ever-so-slightly as you jolt your hips back with every one of the thorough swivels of his fingers on your clit. Toying. 

Fucking back harder than ever into his rock-hard dick, the locket just slams it’s cool branding onto the heated skin of your chest-

“Need you to f-fill me up-” you mutter wetly, nothing more than a few gurgles wrenched out when his clashing head French-kisses your g-spot. Drawing wet glides of his steamy precum down it. “-make me a hngh- m-momma, Toru-”

Oh, this might just be his third death ever. 

Because the bed creaks riotously with every one of his ragged rams, in a way that made you glad for the ever-present music of this town. 

Over and over.

“Yeah- shit, gonna make you a p-pretty momma-” he’s babbling away, a mile a minute. So sloppy that you’re barely able to understand what Gojo was saying. “Fill you- up- ngh- so they’ll look at you and see me. All me- all pretty and r-round- me me me- oh—”

Right now, Gojo didn’t give a fuck if his little dream was even possible. He didn’t give a fuck if his moans were turning into whimper, staggering thrusts trudging into the sloppiest of grinds. The neediest. 

Because right now you were cumming. 

That rapid throb of your clit increasing twofold when you’re finally plummeting into your high, wave after wave of pleasure that he fucks you through with heavy pound after pound. 

Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, toes curling, flashes of white flitting behind your firmly shut eyes. Fuck, it felt so good. 

And your fingers clench hard around where they were still firmly stationed on the headboard to keep at least an ounce of your sanity. Intertwining with- Gojo’s when he slams his hand down hard enough that the entire bed shudders. 

Or maybe that was just him - because so was he. 

“F-finally-” Gojo’s hiccuping, angling his head just right to be able to catch your pretty lips in what could barely be considered a kiss. Just a sloppy suck of your tongue while he pumps you snugly full of sloshing loads of his cum. “Wan’ed this for- so long- finally hngh- consummate- you- most beautiful ah momma-”

His whines were nonsensical at this point, only growing more and more so with each velvety ribbon of cum being poured around into your tight pussy. You could feel it swashing about your soft walls with every one of your hard, convulsing clenches, painting your insides over and over again in a second, sticky skin of his seed. 

“Yeah- fuck fuck fuck, yeah Toru- hah- m-more-”

And just when Gojo thought the almost-painful clenches of his heavy balls were coming to a close, just when he thought his thick streams of voluminous cum were stretching out into thinner wisps - you have to go and say those syrupy sweet words. 

Fuck. 

He’s gasping, locking his finger with yours even harder on the headboard, “Gonna- ngh- gonna be the death of me I s-swear–”

Oh, and then you looked at him with that fucked-out smile of yours. A sight he’s gifted to see. Humming, “In life and in death, r-remember?”

Bang! 

The headboard crashes down onto the floor. Your back is hitting the now utterly drenched sheet below you before the realization hits you. 

In nothing but a split-second, Gojo pulls out his dangerously twitching cock to manhandle you flatly onto your back. Swiftly, he throws your legs over the curvaceous deltoids of his sculpted shoulder, easily bending you down, down, down into half.

Into the meanest mating press possible.

Dredges of thick, hot cum just ooze down your sopping slit, spreading in a milky circle underneath you. And slobbering down Gojo’s swollen hilt as soon as he plugs himself back in - immediately.

The very divot at the end of his cock quivering - for only a split-second before bursting out in streams of more and more cum. Overflowing. Overspilling out of you.

And he can’t help but glide an open palm over that tiny inflation beginning to form where he’d drawn a line just earlier. One hand pressing down on it hard, the other tweaking at your clit to make your walls clench. 

“Oh f-fuck yeah–” Gojo stutters at the glossy coating of his own seed all around him. Reveling in the toasty feeling again and again until his poor, overworked cock can only sputter out wispy strings of nothing. Shooting blanks. “Gonna breed ya- make ya all round and and- ngh full until you c-can’t take anymore. Until we hahh- have that happy ending y-you wanted.”

You mewl when he’s licking away those glistening tears rolling down your cheeks, “-happy ending w-we wanted hngh- Toru–”

“Yeah-” he chuckles. Pecking at your lips with that salty sweet taste on his tongue, “We wanted. It’s why I didn’t reincarnate like you, my love, unfinished hngh- business here s’to spend a long, long and happy marriage with you, y’know?”

You bat your lashes in sweet disbelief, “That’s- that’s mine, too.”

Ah, he reels you in even closer into his arms. Snug. Ever-loving. Seemingly like he’d never let you go ever again - couldn’t bear to. 

He nuzzles against that now-open locket, eyes peering down at those bleary paintings of you two, as loving as if they were taken just today. And in the back of his fried mind, he makes a note to take newer photos for later. Fingers tracing their familiar pathway to press down on the outer edges of the metal - in only the way he knew how, in the way that you should have been taught all those years ago, but was never able to. 

“Then-” His eyes light up as they always did whenever it came to you, when the tiny mechanisms on the locket open up to reveal a delicate, gorgeous ring. Strangely matching his own. Gojo doesn’t think he’s done anything easier in his life when he slides that ring onto your finger, fitting so perfectly. Not even when he was waiting for you, not even when he’d taken care of Naoya in a way that left his coat spattered and stained with red. “-we’re both lucky.”

It’s only after a few soft, lingering kisses that Gojo finally pulls away - like it hurt to.

And it did, sensitive shockwaves erupting down his overwhelmed length. But none of that shows above his drunken grin when Gojo’s shuffling down the bed, all the way until his hot breath was puffing up feverishly against your sloppy cunt. 

Messy. Drooling.

Making such an utter mess on his tongue when he lets it loll out, swiping up the gushing creamy dredges with a long lick. It was so filthy, dribbling down the sides of his mouth, onto his pinkish tongue-

Just a tease for more. 

“Because I keep my promises, my wife.” his murmur wraps all around your thrumming clit. Tongue swirling a milky gloss all over his pert, raw lips. Only wanting more. Waiting. “In life and in death.”

A/N. THIS- THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE N’ GOT ME IN MY FEELSSSS. Hope y’all have a lovely lovely week <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

[sleepdeprivedfrfr]

obsessedbf!toji who loves when it’s cold outside because he knows you won’t try and push him away for being too clingy because he’s so so so sooo warm.

obsessedbf!toji who loves when you curl up to him or wrap yourself around him at night in the middle of your sleep, he thinks it’s so adorable.

obsessedbf!toji who doesn’t go to bed until you do, even if it means he’ll wake up grumpy the next morning for work.

obsessedbf!toji who complains to you one night about your sleeping schedule, “Why the fuck are you still up?”

“I’m watching asmr.”

“Turn that shit off and c’mere.”

“Shh this is a good part.”

He snatched your phone out of your hands and turned it off, “Toji what the fu-”

“Pay attention to me ma, not the fucking phone.” He whispered in a gruff sleepy voice as he pulled you to his chest and engulfing you completely. You huffed into his chest. "Stop acting like you don't love this," Toji grumbled lowly, you could hear the smirk in his words.

"Your tits are suffocating me Toji. No complaints though."

"Fucking freak."

He couldn't help but smile though after hearing your sweet little giggles.

obsessedbf!toji who picks up extra missions just so that he can spoil you, he literally refuses to let you work and truly believes that he should be the sole provider while you don't lift a finger. Also having you care for him when he comes home exhausted is a plus :3

obsessedbf!toji who lets you do skincare on him when he comes back home, he claims he hates it but he loves how relaxing it is and how much attention you put on him while doing it.

obsessedbf!toji who constantly teases you for watching asmr but slowly starts getting into it once you do it to him.

You were propped up against the pillows on the bed, while Toji walked out of the bathroom. He was moody from being at work all day, only to come home to you already showered, leaving him to have to shower alone. "C'mere baby," you patted your lap signaling for your big grumpy boyfriend to lay in it.

He let out a soft grunt and quickly placed himself into your embrace, his head on your lower stomach and hands resting on your hips while his body between your legs. You began tracing patterns up and down his back with your nails, and up and down his large biceps.

"Fuck that feels good ma." he whispered, causing you to let out a soft giggle.

"You still mad at me you big baby?" Your hands moved up to his scalp.

"Tch, whatever. Jus' keep doin’ what yer doin'." Was all he said while his thumbs lightly brushed back and fourth over your hips. His breathing began to slow and he let out soft snores.

obsessedbf!toji who surprising plans really romantic dates for you two, but as soon as you walk out of the bedroom all dressed up his hands are all over you, making you guys late to whatever reservation he booked.

"Babe we're gonna be late."

"Fuck you look so good mama, I can't help it." He says between kisses. Safe to say y'all were definitely going to be late again, that is if you even left the house.

another toji drabble/oneshot bc y'all loved the last one sm, might do an nsfw ver soon so yuh. Also thank you guys so much for 500 followers, I know im behind on a lot of stories rn so js bear with me pls 😭

also I’m so tired of seeing people canon toji as a bad husband/bf bc like y r we acting like he didn’t take his wife’s name?!? Like sure he may be broke in the show but that’s js bc his ass was gambling all his money away, anyways hope u enjoyed ;3

Likes, comments, and rebloggs appreciated!!

divider creds: @cafekitsune

[stunie]

i just WOKE UP !!?????!!!!!!

2024.07.15 — dinner date with Ume. ♡

(hands up if you know where the reference photo’s froooommmmm!!!! >:3 aju nice.)

[saaturrn4]

.MDNI !

| Twitter Links pt.2 ── .✦ JJK MEN

⭑

- KENTO NANAMI

On your honeymoon ^~^

Nice and slowwww thrusts for you

Using your throat like a fleshlight🥴

Morning sex with husband!Nanami🤍

He loves it when your skin glows from the morning sun ☀️

- TOJI FUSHIGURO

He loves coming home to his sweet girl wanting his cock to ruin her insides🖤

He loves slurping up your mess <3

Morning sex in the kitchen :3

Pulling you away from the party and into a bathroom so he could fuck you ^_^

Sending this to your shitty ex boyfriend to show him what a perfect pussy he is missing out on :)

- SUGURU GETO

Fucking you before you go out with your friends^~^

He loves it when you bounce on his cock ;)

Letting Satoru record you and Suguru🩵

Putting a leash on you to know who you belong to💘

Fucking you dumb 🎀

- SATORU GOJO

Fucking you in just 1 out of dozens of homes he owns🫶🏼

Punishing you for being a naughty little brat :(

He looovvess your body sm:33

Letting roommate!Gojo use you after being dumped by your boyfriend

He loves it when your tits bounce <_>

- CHOSO KAMO

Choso letting you ride him after a long day of being away from him :p

Always save water 💦

Letting him fuck you while your best friend Yuki watches ;)

He couldn’t wait to go inside so he fucks you outside your house🤍

He loves your tits so much 💘

- SUKUNA RYOMEN

Letting his anger and frustration out on you🥴

Such a slut for him.

He loves your pussy so much

You love his cock

The size differenceeeee

- HIROMI HIGURUMA

Fucking you in a hotel🩵

His cock is so big in your hands🫶🏼

This is how he fingers you after being away from you a whole week

You love it when he rubs your clit while he fucks you

You love the feeling of his nose bumping against your clit, you just can’t get enough of it🖤

- SUGURU AND SATORU

Sharing is caring 🎀

[cheetabites]

☆彡 age ain’t nothing but a number ˳༄꠶

characters: park gyeong seok (player 246), kang dae ho (player 388), and hwang in ho (player 001 / the frontman)

˳༄꠶ summary: headcannons i have regarding if you - their partner - were younger than them (fem intended! reader, and all legal babes 💋)

park gyeong seok (player 246)

★ he works as a portrait painter near an amusement park, he’s been approached by many younger woman. they usually directly express their interest in him by flirting but he usually brushes it off with a smile and a timid shake of his head. regarding this, i don’t think it would’ve been a problem if he’d gotten into a relationship with a younger woman; he is a the type of older man to get really shy about it though

★ despite the hierarchy in korea where juniors are supposed to automatically respect their elders, gyeong seok doesn’t really push it too much. he treats you as an equal with a bit of extra pampering - he does believe that since he’s the older one in the relationship, he should carry most of the responsibilities, whether that be household chores, bringing money home, or just caring for you and his daughter

★ he isn’t too sensitive to other’s opinions on your relationship, but there are some times where he worries about the age gap. it’s mostly out of worry for you though; i mean he’s nearing closer to finally turning forty and he has a young daughter. he just wants you to be happy. although if you talk it out with him and ease his worries, then i think thoughts like those will eventually dissipate

★ sex with him wouldn’t be any different even if you were younger, he’d still have the same kinks. although he would treat you more gently just to make sure he doesn’t “hurt” you

★ his daughter doesn’t mind the age gap either. you’re sweet, thoughtful and you make her dad happy. the only way she’d ever question the age difference would be from an external factor like whispers from other parents that she overhears or if one her classmates says something about it. if this does happen though, you and gyeong seok would obviously clear stuff up for her

kang dae ho (player 388)

★ to be honest, when he first met you he didn’t even think that you were younger than him. it was only when you clarified your age that he realized that he was older than you. he still pursued you despite it though, because you were both legal adults and he found himself captivated with you; he does tend to get with older women though, more often than he does with younger women

★ he’s another one that gets a bit shy about the fact that he’s dating a younger woman. you and his friends love to tease him about it too, just so you can hear him stutter as he tries to figure out a comeback; if one of his friends make a bad comment about your relationship though, he’ll post tf up. but make sure to drag him away, he’s not really good in physical fights

★ he’s more shy when he subs for you. something about you being younger than him yet having all this power over him makes him red in the face (and rock hard in his slacks)

★ i feel like he’d try to coddle you, but you’d hit him with the “i had you crying and begging for me last night, i can take care of myself.” he’d pout when you’d brushed off his advances, but would eventually get over it; he just loves you sm

★ with you, he honestly acts like a himbo. don’t get me wrong, he’s not unintelligent, but it��s like he’s so starstruck with your presence that it kinda short circuits his brain; it makes him all the more lovable though!

hwang in ho / 001 / the frontman

★ this man does not give one flying fuck that you’re younger than him. in fact, it boosts his ego that he was able to bag such a beautiful young baddie like you; just know you’re gonna be as spoiled as hell

★ he’s so detached from people’s opinions that he could not give less of a rats ass about their opinion on your relationship. if it does somehow tick him off though, then he’ll just put a bullet in them

★ if you’re his significant other, there isn’t much of an opportunity to return back to society. he doesn’t want to risk you interacting with other people - especially if you were a previous player; you disappeared without a trace and then suddenly returned to society? it would cause more problems than solutions. he makes sure to make it up to you in other ways though, he doesn’t want you to be unhappy

★ he tries to hide your relationship from the guards, but since you can’t leave he eventually just lets it be. there isn’t much to do at the facility / where the games are held so the guards are constantly exposed to you trailing after him wherever he goes, curious as ever - you often ask him random questions and he regularly indulges in you to keep you satiated. i can just picture you trampling around the halls doing whatever you want in the most fabulous outfit that he gifted you - obviously breaking the rules - and the guards just give eachother a look, kinda saying “damn, if we did that boss would fire - a bullet at - us.”

★ sex with him is relatively the same. but with a younger partner, i believe things like thigh riding and a daddy kink will appear sometime after you get intimate together

the end! I hope you enjoyed <3!

© cheetabites. don’t translate, claim or repost my works on any platform. jan 4 2025.

[gyaruhana]

Hi Xae, have a good new year, I wanted to ask you if you could write about Kang Dae-ho (player 388) from Squid Game 2, where the reader joins Gihun's team and even though it's only been a few hours, she and Dae-ho already have chemistry and Dae-ho tells Gihun's friend how pretty the reader is, making him a little angry and calling him a fool in love, ty ❤!

-🦊

Kang Dae-Ho/Player 388 - Fool in love

Synopsis: You and Dae-ho get along within the first second you meet - maybe it's meant to be?

A/N: Finally dropping this !! Dae-ho is so cutie and I love him sm

Warning: none !!

A game where death is lurking right around the corner is enough to send a chill down anyone’s spine. Especially yours. You only came here because you needed the money but you weren't confident that you'd be willing to die for it. The idea that you might die soon made you utterly afraid. You had a family that you'd most definitely like to go home to but most of the other players seemed far too keen to stay in this hell and it meant you were stuck there with them too.

On a more fortunate note, there seemed to be a previous winner amidst the hundreds of other players and you'd be damned if you didn't rely on someone who knew what he was doing. If he really was a winner, then he could predict the games. Maybe then you'd actually have a chance of getting out alive and with a lot of money.

“Hi. You're the guy from earlier who said that he played this before, right?” You ask as you stand in front of player 456. You thought maybe being his ally would make you feel better but, with the way he looked up at you, he was actually kind of scary. It's like his face had been frozen into a hard glare. Though, to be fair, he was apparently the sole survivor of the game he played so he must have suffered plenty of losses. You suppose you'd look that unhappy too if you lost people you cared about.

He gives you a nod as the other people sitting around look at you too. They looked a lot less terrifying than him which made you feel a bit better. “I was wondering if maybe I could stick with you guys? I don't really want to be on my own and, since you've played these games before, you can help, right?” you ask with a hopeful look. You were really hoping that they'd be welcoming to you. 

“Mm? Who are you?” Someone suddenly speaks and, when you look towards the voice, you see a boy with food stuffed in his mouth peeking out from around the corner. His eyes briefly widen when he sees you properly before he quickly puts his food down and jumps off the bed. ���Of course, you can stick with us,” he says rather eagerly as the three men behind him give him a strange look.

“Ah, really? Thank you,” you say with a nervous grin as he practically pushes you to sit down. You honestly didn't expect to be welcomed with such open arms. Actually, maybe that wasn't really a team decision but you didn't complain because now you had a team who could protect you and that you could hopefully trust. 

“So, who are you?” He asks as he grabs his food from the bed before he sits down beside you with his legs crossed. He looked genuinely interested to know everything about you and it made your heartbeat a little faster. He was cute. That was for sure. So to have his eyes on you was certainly making you slightly nervous. You cleared your throat before introducing yourself as you tried to maintain eye contact with him.

He repeats your name as if testing out how it sounds when said from his own mouth. After a slight pause, he gives a slight nod of approval before speaking up again. “I'm Dae-ho. Kang Dae-ho,” he says with a smile. In all honesty, he had never seen someone as pretty as you. You really captivated his attention. He felt like he couldn't take his eyes off you.

“Kang Dae-ho,” you repeat quietly as you engrave the name into your mind. “That's a nice name,” you say with a small smile and he smiles too. “It's supposed to mean big tiger. Kang means big and Dae-ho means tiger,” he explains before taking a bite of his food. 

“Big tiger? You don't look very big,” you say with a small smile, teasing him slightly. He swallowed down his food before responding to your comment. “Wha-? I'm big! I was a marine,” he says with a proud smirk. You look at him and down and raise an eyebrow to send a clear message that you didn't believe him one bit.

“No, I'm serious!” He says before pulling his sleeve up to reveal his tattoo. “See?” He says as he makes sure you get a good look at it. “C'mon, anyone could get that tattooed on their arm,” you say and he immediately shakes his head in denial. 

“You still don't believe me? Maybe I need to show you my strength then,” he says with a small smile before throwing some gentle punches at you. You laugh at his actions as you two play fight - something that captures the attention of the other three that were sitting around. They look at you two before exchanging a glance between each other then looking away and trying to act as if you and Dae-ho aren't clearly forming some sort of chemistry right now.

The next few hours you had spent exclusively with Dae-ho talking about every little thing. You opened up to him about why you were in these games and what you had gone through and he listened so intently, it made your heart race. You swear your brain would short circuit when he looked at you with that look. When his head was tilted and his eyes said all the words he wanted to say with his mouth.

You couldn't believe you were crushing on a guy you just met. Sure, he was a good listener, funny, strong, nice, and everything else that makes someone perfect but you couldn't just fall in love with him. Hell, you're both in a game of death! One of you could die tomorrow so you really shouldn't be letting your heart race at 100 miles per hour just because he's cute.

Before the both of you knew it, there was already five minutes until lights out and you'd all have to go to sleep to have energy for tomorrow’s game. You looked over at Dae-ho before speaking up. “Dae-ho, I'll be back. I'm just going to use the restroom,” you say with a small smile. When he nods his head, you wave before walking off quickly towards the door. He watched as you knocked on it before having it opened by a guard and then promptly disappearing round the corner. 

He let out a sigh before turning around and walking over to Jung-bae. You were so pretty. He honestly couldn't believe you were real. Maybe his brain had made you up as a coping mechanism? You were just so perfect in his eyes. Everything he could possibly want. God, he'd love to take you to dinner sometime when both of you get out of this place so he can give you the love and attention you deserve. He just wished that he could cover your face in kisses for hours on end and hold your hand while taking a walk together. He didn't care if it was cliche. It didn't matter because it was for you.

He finally made it to Jung-Bae and took a seat next to him quietly. He shifted slightly to rest his chin on his hand and waited for Jung-Bae to ask what was on his mind. It was quiet for a few moments as Jung-bae chose to pretend like Dae-ho definitely didn’t have anything to say about you so Dae-ho made the quick decision to let out another sigh- this time much louder to catch Jung-bae’s attention and force him to ask what's on his mind.

Jung-bae turns to look at him with slight annoyance. “What? Don't just sit there and sigh. What is it?” Jung-bae asks as Dae-ho turns to look at him with a shy smile. “She’s so pretty,” he says with his face flushed slightly red, embarrassed that he was fawning over you like this. “Huh?” Jung-bae responds, confused about what he was talking about. 

“Her. She’s so pretty. She has the most amazing laugh and the cutest smile and-” Dae-ho begins to speak before receiving a smack over the back of his head making him shut up. The smile on his face drops as he looks at Jung-bae like a confused puppy.

“You're such a fool. You just met her a few hours ago,” he says as he shakes his head in disapproval. Dae-ho laughs nervously as he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “I guess.. but still. She's so perfect,” he says in poor defense. 

He hears the door open and his head snaps towards it immediately. He was hoping it was you because he already missed talking to you, even if it's only been a few minutes since you left for the bathrooms. When he sees you, he quickly smiles and, if he was a dog, anyone would see his tail wagging back and forth. Jung-bae let out a sigh and shook his head like some father who was disappointed in his son.

“You're planning to ask her out, aren't you?” He says only to get an immediate response.

“absolutely,”

[fics-lovebot]

jungkook fic recs pt. 2

main masterlist - jungkook fic recs pt. 1 - jungkook fic recs pt. 3

· · ♡ · · tysm to the amazing creative minds of the writers for giving me sevaral moments of joy reading your creations

pls remember to reblog if you like any of my recs❤️

fuck buddies - ( @angelguk ) smut, angst, non-idol, fwb au, jk wished you were more than just fwb

decalcomania - ( @floralseokjin ) angst, cheating trope, NOW THIS!!! if you´re an angst loving hoe like me tHIS will do it, its a whole 2019 banger fr, it has it ALLL, and also? no hea, periodddd. i love it SO MUCH

his name - ( @jimlingss ) angst, fluff, multiple personality!au. this absolute 8 piece MASTERPIECE was posted 7 years ago,,2017- can you believe it? i was so happy to read this again. fuck "after" tHIS is the one that should be on netflix, i have never read anything similar on here, the whole plot is INSANE, i love it

squirting - ( @lavishedinjimin ) smut, pwp. anon had a vvvery specfic request and we love her for that

written in the stars - (@jcwriting ) anggst, fflluufff, smut. soulmate au, werewolf!jk, human!reader. one of my faves out there for rreealllll, it´s an all-rounder and, ofc, a 2021 banger

this kingdom - ( @whatifyoulivelikethat ) smut, fluff, crack, au series, one sided E2L, softsub gamer!jk, power bottom gamer noona!reader, reader is thiccc and jungkook is an ass man fosho. ANOTHER ONEEE, this time from 2020, this is fucking AMAZING ok??, the seggs, the banter, the chemestry, EVERYTHING, it´s so good omg

pretty girl - ( @bts-trash-blog ) smut, tattoo artist!jk, chubby reader, THIS IS ITTTTT, he´s tall, dark and handsome, flirty af too, "pretty girl" stFUUUU, they both want to fuck so he shoots his shot at the tattoo appointment

easy - ( @itsamejin ) angsty, fuckboy jk, bet!trope, jk plays you so he can get his rent paid, i read this one a lawwngg time ago and decided i was an angst loving hoe

Inevitable - ( @ahundredtimesover ) angst, fluff, smut, lovers to exes to lovers, baseball player!jk, dad!jk, parents au, you break up with jk years ago after you got pregnant bc you wanted him to follow his dreams and now he´s back home just to find out there´s a boy who looks just like him.. this is a masterpiece, honestly one of THEE best jk series out there, it has it all fr, the angst is angsty and the fluff is FLUFFY, i love it sm i´ve read it 3 times and never get tired of it

finish line - ( @bonny-kookoo ) fluff, nerdy!jk, racer!jki loooooveee itttttt, so cute, so fluffy, this blurb uGHHHHH, just read the whole thing pls

ungodly hour - ( @explicit-tae ) crack, smut, fluff, college au, broke college student!reader, lowkey slutty!reader, jk is thirsstttyyyyy, simping atp, "who´s dick do i have to suck for a hulu account?" this series is honestly so funny ksjakskjs

disney + and bust - ( @1kook ) angst, fluff, smut. yall already know i love to see man crying and begging for forgiveness :p, so kook is ur succesfull "app developer" bf and he says some very hurtfull things to you out of anger

rattled - ( @gukslut ) complete series, single dad au, angst, smut. honestly? one of the best fics out there. I read this a long time ago and i´m still in awe. The way this is written makes you feel every word. also, the plot is so so unique. i love it.

pu$$y fairy - ( @angelguk) smut, college au, non-idol, fuckboy!jk, virgin!reader, this is a 2020 old but gold, i read this a long time ago and still love it to this day

sweeter than strawberries - ( @cinnaminsvga ) shy baker!jk, college student!reader, noona!reader ??, s2l, mutual pining, cute cute cuteeee, another 2020 banger, i love how lenghty they used to be

you wrote jk a confession letter but he didn’t see it - ( @angelguk ) fluff, small brain big heart!jk, college au, non-idol, LMAOOOO this was funny asl, 2020 did it again, i loved this

frost impressions - ( @fortunexkookie ) soccer coach!jk, teacher!reader, gamer au, work au, idiots to lovers, one sided pining at first, it´s a longggg one. another 2020 masterpiece, one of my favorite fics out there, he´s so disgustingly smitten with his new coworker that he ends up making a terrible first impression. so so so entertaining and fun to read, jk is silly af lmao, can´t stop putting his foot in his mouth, theres a bunch of cute second hand embarrasment situations

Over The Odds | The Confession - ( @jungk0oksthighs ) ceo jk, sugardaddy jk, jealous bf jk, sugar baby reader, he gets mad and yells bc he is lowkey insecure of her ex but reader is equaly in love. this is a series

wrong time - ( @spideyjimin ) smut, angst, dilf!jk, ceo!jk, exes to lovers, workaholic as a scape mechanism, the one that got away type of stuff but she broke things up first for valid reasons, big big heartache but she´s still the love of his life

don´t blame me - ( @ctrlsht ) sugar daddy!jk, ceo!jk, soft yan!jk, obsessive!jk, student!reader, unhealthy behavior on his part, manipulative behavior on her part, jealousy on both parts, he goes a lil too far but reader is bitchy and annoying, he lit gives her everythinggg she asks for, the man is..creazy about her in a very unhealthy way and she takes advantage of that, toxicc

failed quickie - ( @vminizzle ) cowerker jk, suggestive, they´re about to fucc on an elevator but shit happens, he likes his hair pulled!!1!

someone older - ( @bonny-kookoo ) smut, ceo jk, divorced jk, 30 something yo jk, taehyung has a kid, younger oc, its a nice read, would do it again

night after night - ( @brown-bi-beautiful ) smut, angst, crack, fluff, semi-retired fuckboy jk, red flag jk, stalker jk, break up au, lovers to exes to lovers, he fucked around and found out so he is FREAKING ouT, also he is beggING okk.. we love that, he also has a Harley bc he is bad boy™, they make up anyways bc he is pussy whipped.. or in love, whatevs you wanna call it

seven plus one - ( @jvngkoos ) smut, angst, they break up for like a week and that shit got him SIMPING fr, standing under the rain begging and stuff, the man is obsessed, we love it

you good?? - ( @mono-moonchilds ) drabble, smut, "what if you gave jungkook head?" is righT bc i´ve been thinking about it for a min!!! he is mean ok yall know he is a brat buT, the head is too good to do all that, the man was shaKINg for godssakeee, so good he had to answer with a thumbs up bc reader drained him fr, left him so brain dead he couldn´t even speak

[swordgrace]

❝ 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬. ❞

┊ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: betrothed to cregan stark, you seek respite in his chambers, unaccustomed to the blistering chill of the north. feelings become reality.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: cregan stark x jace’s sister reader.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.2K.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut (mdni), inexperienced reader, there was only one bed, getting warm gone sexual, heavy kissing, groping, mild hand kink, cregan calls the reader “princess” a lot, body worship, breast play/sucking, biting/light marking, thigh riding, dry humping/grinding, fingering (fem!rec), spooning.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this was a random idea I cooked up but I actually got so wound up when writing this no joke 🧍 I love cregan so much, he’s husband !! as always, I hope you all enjoy reading, thank you sm! ❤️

TALES OF THE UNRELENTING NORTH OFTEN SPILLED FROM THE LIPS OF SOUTHERN NURSEMAIDS — WHISPERS OF SNOWFALLS PILED AS HIGH AS TOWERS, HOWLING GALES THAT CARRIED THE STING OF ICE WITH IT, TEMPERATURES THAT WOULD FREEZE MEN ALIVE.

If only you knew the truth of the matter, you might’ve recalled such stories and used them to your benefit.

Dragonstone was oftentimes tepid, a rocky island surrounded by saltwater tides and the kiss of summertime, where heat was a common commodity. Coming here, to Winterfell, you had experienced a rather dramatic shift in atmosphere.

From the moonlit gloom of your bedchambers, you watched a blizzard rage on, wisps of white whipping past your window. Gooseflesh clung to your skin like that of a plague, and you felt yourself being tormented by an incessant cold.

Glacial are the wreaths of snow-furled gales that blanket Winterfell in their pale callousness — it even seeps into your bones, bones forged of fire and blood. It makes you yearn for the South, for the kiss of heat, the lapping of the waves.

Unaccustomed to the biting weather of the North, you had come ill-prepared, thin shift doing little to shield you from the gnaw of ice. It was the hour of the ghost, too late to summon servants and too late to disturb the castle with your whims.

Cregan Stark, your betrothed, was the only one that you could think of who might still be awake at this ungodly hour.

This union formed between Starks and Targaryens was an arrangement of convenience, unlikely allies on the precipice of a tumultuous civil conflict. It was your willingness that had made this all possible — a scion of Rhaenyra, sent away to the blistering North.

Much to your own bewilderment, you did not dislike your current arrangement. Cregan’s stoicism and stalwart demeanor did not chafe at you as it did with others, and his alliance in this matter was of grave importance.

He was a grizzled man, his exterior rough, but you were no stranger to such behavior.

From what you had gleaned of him thus far, he was resolute and rugged, with a penchant for justice and honor — similar to most of the Starks. In the spirit of transparency, he was aesthetically pleasing to gaze upon, and you did plenty of it when time permitted.

A shiver ran down your spine as you tightened a furred robe around your body, and even that did not serve you well. Seizing a candlestick from atop the dead hearth’s mantle, you made your way from your quarters, greeted by a swell of silence.

The ghastly howl of the wintertime squall surged outside, like the shrill cry of a spectre. It did little to ease your nerves, body rattling like a leaf from the ceaseless chill.

The candle’s lick of warmth danced across your wrist, and it made you yearn for more, breath emerging in warm wisps as you made your way to Cregan’s chambers. It was inappropriate of you to disrupt him like this, but sleep evaded you — between missing home and the cold, you doubted that rest would find you.

Standing before the imposing doors of the Lord of Winterfell, your knuckles rapped timidly against the rough wood, drawing your robe around you once more. Waiting with bated breath, your shoulders straightened at the sound of movement from the other side of the door.

As ancient wood groaned in protest, Cregan’s massive form encapsulated much of the doorway, dark brows furrowed together. “My Lady,” His rumbling timbre often filled you with pangs of excitement. “Are you well?”

Concern laced itself into his cadence, fearing that something might’ve happened to you, or you’d received some sort of news. Storm-laden hues picked you apart in observance, noticing the way your body constantly trembled.

The desire for warmth had clouded everything else; you did not register his lack of clothing upon first glance. Cregan’s musculature was openly displayed, save for the trousers that clung to his hips.

“I am,” Your grip tightened around the base of the candlestick. “Forgive me, my Lord, I — the hearth has died in my chambers and it is much too late to rouse any of the servants. I am unaccustomed to this sort of climate.”

Cregan did not protest to your presence, stepping aside to invite you into his chambers. “You are welcome to warm yourself, my Lady.” Gesturing for you to enter, you were greeted by a roaring fire, gripped by an immediate relief.

A sigh of subdued joy slipped past your lips as you moved towards the crackling flames, feeling heat lick across your flesh. Cregan noticed how poorly dressed you were for such weather — a thin shift and one layer of fur would not do.

Admittedly, it might’ve been untoward for you to be here, not yet wed, in the chambers of your intended. You did not want to besmirch Cregan’s honor, nor lead anyone to believe that you’d gone to him with malicious intent.

“I apologize if this is a disturbance, I … I did not know where else to go,” A pang of realization rippled through you, then. “I do not want you to think that I’ve come here with any foul notions.”

A brief huff spread throughout his chest as the Northern lord moved to sit atop the fur-laden footlocker at the end of his bed. “I do not believe your plight of warmth to be dishonorable,” A hint of amusement lingered within his tone. “This is not the South.”

Allowing yourself to relax, you seemed to abandon your coiled posture, placing the candlestick along the mantle above the hearth. “It is not.” Something forlorn saturated your voice, a wistful longing to return to Dragonstone, to your mother.

Cregan could discern the twinge of melancholy within your tone, enough to garner some concern. He knew that this was all unfamiliar to you — and he did not want you to feel unwelcome.

“What troubles you?” His inquiry was born of sympathy, a desire to understand you better. This betrothal was an unexpected thing, but he had no intention of making either of you miserable.

As firelight danced across your features, Cregan fought against baser instincts, crass thoughts of lesser men; and he was not above them. Your beauty was renowned, taking after the features of your Highborn mother, some remnants of your father still present.

An amalgamation of true adoration, no less.

Captivating was a mere understatement, not worthy enough of your appearance, bathed in an orange glow. As grey hues subtly admired your countenance, he realized that your gaze seemed to do the very same, a mutual exchange.

Lips parted, words turning to ash upon your tongue as you clamored for an appropriate response, not wanting to burden him with your lamenting of home. A soft stirring resonated from your throat. “I miss home — my Mother, most of all.”

The softness of your confession was not lost upon him, a sentiment that Cregan could certainly understand. “You are not a prisoner here, my Lady,” He murmured, brows gathering together. “You are permitted to return to Dragonstone and visit, if it pleases you.”

“Duty is sacrifice,” You lamented, a threadbare smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “With conflict on the horizon, it is best if I stay here — it doesn’t lessen the sting, but I know what is expected of me.”

Cregan found it admirable, your acknowledgment of your pledge here, the very root of your betrothal; even then, he would not begrudge you for returning to your family. He was half a stranger, someone that you were growing accustomed to.

“I admire you for it,” Gray hues like that of a swirling snowstorm hadn’t left you, drinking in your features as if you were some magnificent piece of artwork. He grew quiet, noticing the occasional shudder that coursed throughout your body. “Here.”

Lifting a bundle of thick bearskin, Cregan invited you to sit beside him, if you chose. Lacking your typical shrewdness, you stepped forward, joining him atop the footlocker as he shrouded you in the furry hide.

Sinking into the furs, you exhaled, feeling warmth return to your bones as you basked within the dancing firelight. Nestled beside your betrothed, you exuded plentiful restraint, tearing your gaze away from the bare muscle that brushed against you.

There was some grizzled perfection about him — rough, like uneven leather; as mountainous as the Wall itself. Yet, beneath this hardened exterior, he was endlessly soft, a notion that enticed you. He never made you feel an ounce of discomfort.

“Thank you for this,” A sigh floated from your lips, stare trained upon the hearth’s soothing glow as you warmed yourself at his side. “I have felt so alone in coming here, but you have made me feel as if I do have someone.”

Admittedly, he had his doubts about your betrothal — House Targaryen was as infamous and mystical as they claimed, the blood of dragons. Within your graciousness and tender heart, Cregan found himself wanting you, beyond all bounds of propriety, of decency.

Gray hues flickered over your visage, his appreciation of you not entirely subtle, as if he were screaming his praise through gaze alone. Firelight encapsulated your flesh, the glow surrounding you picturesque.

“I shall not waver in my duty as your husband, Princess — you can be sure of that,” Cregan uttered, able to feel the brief brush of your body against his own, a tantalizing thing. It was swift, fleeting; yet it incited the deepest of yearning. “I will remain here, by your side.”

Princess; as the simple title spilled from his lips, warped with his Northern timbre, you felt a peculiar heat wash over your insides. It was untoward of you to feel the tendrils of desire, especially before being wed. You felt like some craven, thinking this way.

It was his moral compass and staunch sense of duty that had enticed you, the way in which he carried himself with an effortless strength. For a man as young as he, one-and-twenty, his wisdom seemed to stretch on for several moons his senior.

The heaviness of sleep had not yet found you, still rather alert as you remained by his side, hues occasionally stealing glances at his musculature. Absentmindedly, your fingers kneaded into the bearskin, something idle to relieve the spark of tension.

“I should hope that I grow accustomed to this chill, with time,” A flicker of amusement danced within your tone, a shiver gripping your body as you shrank into the furs. “I fear that I am not as resilient to this insufferable snow as I thought.”

A short chuckle escaped Cregan, the sound brief; yet it warmed you more than any simmering flame. An unassuming smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, dissipating as soon as it had appeared. “You will become tolerant with time, princess. I shall see about getting you warmer hides.”

Unable to suppress your smile, a burst of ebullient laughter peeled from your lips, like the chime of bells to the Northern lord’s ears. “You have my gratitude, my Lord. Thank you.”

“Cregan,” His insistence was disarmingly gentle, brows knitting together for only a moment. “We do not have to continue to uphold such formalities.” It seemed to dissolve whatever awkward barrier had rested between you; betrothals were never easy.

“Cregan,” As you repeated his name, he savored the way it rolled from your tongue, wrapped in inklings of a growing fondness. He was practical, a man of the present, but he could imagine himself enjoying his union with you. “It is only right if you do the same.”

The bulk of his musculature softly rattled with a brief huff. “Of course, princess.” He mused, tone betraying the hint of amusement that flickered across his features. The hour had grown exceedingly late, and yet, he did not feel the sting of exhaustion.

Such an innocuous remark had effectively stoked a fire within you, tendrils of a starving flame coiling around your insides. Gooseflesh cascaded along your spine, bringing with it a dull ache. A sliver of your being wanted to stay with Cregan, but it was entirely untoward.

In the spirit of transparency, Cregan shared your unspoken sentiment. To lay with one’s betrothed was not inherently a sin; the gnaw of desire grew within, and he feared what it might twist into.

“I wish to stay here this eve, if you are agreeable,” The suddenness of your inquiry had ensnared his attention, bewildering him to no end. He hadn’t expected you to want to stay — let alone share his bed. “I understand how it might seem …”

“I would not condemn you to further suffer in the cold, my Lady.” Cregan’s reply had made your bones lurch, heart fluttering within your breast like the beating of dragon’s wings.

A gale of fire churned ceaselessly within the pit of your stomach, a sensation not often quelled. You had let it burn, as a stark reminder of the sensations he brought to you. As you mulled over his response, the wolfish lord quietly gestured toward the sprawling bed behind you.

Layered in an endless ocean of hides, from bearskin to that of stags, your feet fell atop the cold stone, feather-light as you made your way into the sanctuary of his mattress. It was fit for a man of his bulk, you’d realized, with plenty of room to spare.

Even the mere presence of a companion had brought a sense of ease to your startled nerves, basking beneath the furs and blankets. As warmth settled into your bones, Cregan joined you, keeping a comfortable distance within his own space.

Sprawled upon your back, you cast your restless gaze to the ceiling — an unremarkable labyrinth of ancient stone. To your right, his musculature lay wedged beneath the furs, an arm tucked beneath his head, a gap of silence present.

“You will be an excellent husband,” The genuine conviction within your tone was enough to cause his head to turn, storm-laden hues finding your pleasant profile. “I no longer fear this union as I once had, and I have you to thank for it.”

Cregan steeled himself, honor hanging by a mere thread; you, curled up within his bed, speaking of him in ways that he had not dreamed of. “Your words are both honorable and humbling, princess. I should hope to protect you, and keep you happy.”

Gods, his voice; a timbre akin to the rolling of thunder, harboring a thinly-veiled gentleness that you so desperately craved. No man compared to him, and it made you want him more, and such a notion was strong already.

Despite the berth of distance residing between bodies, he felt closer than ever, within arm’s reach of touching you. A smile found its way onto your face, as warm as a midsummer’s eve, gaze glittering with a peculiar tenderness.

Whatever ghastly chill had once assailed your bones had been quelled by Cregan’s warmth, a fondness displayed through stare alone. Gray hues traced the contours of your visage, toward the plane of your collarbone, slipping beneath fabric.

Huddling beneath the furs, you rolled over, curled up on your side as your gaze found Cregan’s own with a wordless gratitude. A tension began to brew, the first inklings of a pleasant storm that you had no desire to flee from.

A shiver gripped your spine, claws of a gnawing ice momentarily raking themselves across your flesh. With time, you hoped that you would become accustomed to the Northern climate — it was brutal and unforgiving enough as it stood.

“Still cold, princess?” Cregan felt a twinge of sympathy for you, this hotblooded maiden, brought to heel by the wrath of a snowstorm. He felt the desire to safeguard you, shield you from harm, a deluge included.

A fib nearly tumbled from your lips, and you silenced yourself before it could blossom to fruition. Fingers flexed into the furs, seeking relief; you longed to find your relief in him. “Terribly,” Sinking further into the mattress, you happened to smile. “You might not have a wife when this is over.”

In a futile attempt at lightheartedness, Cregan did not see it that way, growing concerned at the incessant chattering of your teeth, the rise of gooseflesh permeating your skin.

Wordlessly, the young wolf gestured to the space at his side, inviting you to take refuge against the biting chill, if you so desired. He did not seem perturbed, but the doe-like glint within your gaze screamed otherwise.

“You do not …” The shrewd cadence of your tone seemed to ooze with embarrassment, a peculiar heat clinging to your visage. Smitten, you watched as Cregan grunted, head bobbing in a brief shake as he coaxed you closer.

“I would prefer it if you did not wither away.” Such a gentle baritone had struck a match within you, turning your insides to molten liquid. With bated breath, you sluggishly crawled towards him, fingers sheepishly hovering above his abdomen.

Cregan’s thick arm encircled you, as innocuous as he could possibly be, ensuring that he did not cause you any discomfort. Nevertheless, he reveled in the sensation of your body pressing against him, kissed by winter’s chill.

Heat bled from his flesh as if he were his own flame, radiating with bodily warmth as he let you seek such respite. The cold plane of your cheek nestled atop his collarbone, the saccharine scent of you wafting from your downy crown.

Many might’ve considered such behavior scandalous, improper, considering that the two of you had not yet wed. For Cregan, he cared little for labels of impropriety or deviance, preferring to put your own wellbeing above any damning accusations.

The erratic beating of your heart nearly leapt into your throat, fingertips absentmindedly dancing across the impressive bulk of his chest. His stature was immense when placed beside you, and yet you remained captivated by it, soaking in any droplet of warmth that he provided.

It was agonizing, being so close; you wanted to curse restraint, damn dignity, beseech your future husband for a kiss. His jaw tensed when you began to stir, writhing against him in an involuntary attempt to become comfortable.

A sharp inhale punctured his lungs, restraint so threadbare that it nearly ripped into two, hand accidentally brushing across your backside. It wasn’t intentional, but your incessant squirming had made this increasingly difficult.

A familiar stirring roused within his trousers, cock twitching as the curve of your breasts happened to ghost beside his ribcage. Cregan wanted to grab you, force you to remain still, if such a thing were even possible.

“You must stop moving.” Through gritted teeth, his warning was sternly spoken, but not one of anger. As his words assailed your senses, you immediately ceased, breath hitching as his hand firmly pressed against your hips.

Before you could sputter some bewildered apology, your gaze sheepishly flickered toward him, his countenance one of thinly-veiled frustration. This frustration was of a different sort, as if he were holding some unseen weight upon his shoulders.

Realization hit with a sudden force as you swallowed the growing lump within your throat. Cregan’s stare met yours, and you seemed to reach some unspoken understanding as to why your constant moving had vexed him.

Impulsivity gripped you then, prompting you to careen forward, soft lips pressing themselves to his. A ripple of startlement consumed Cregan, who did not act until your palm had settled atop his muscled abdomen. He reciprocated your kiss, pulling away with perplexity.

“I am sorry,” Through a hasty, rushed apology, you felt shameful, cursing yourself for behaving in such an uncouth manner. However, to your surprise, Cregan did not appear offended in the slightest. “I … We are not yet wed.”

Wedlock had little to do with this brewing desire, one that he was aching to act upon. Arbitrary rules often dictated that pleasure without the bonds of marriage was some unsightly sin — it couldn’t have been further from the truth.

Cregan wanted you; he did not desire your titles, position, or your dragon — it was your heart he sought, something worth coveting, worth cherishing. Whatever pact was struck to ensure your marriage, he became grateful for it.

“I would not dare discomfort you, princess,” A shudder rolled throughout your body, able to feel his palm knead into your waist. “You have my word.” A ripple of understanding found you, then. A sliver of your being knew that it might’ve been wrong, but you found yourself dismissing the notion.

With a nod, you happened to shift closer, noticing the way in which he’d begun to angle himself towards you. “I wish for your warmth.” The lingering, lascivious implication hung heavy within your words, enough for Cregan to urge you closer.

Flush against him, he quieted, steely glower piercing through you like the tip of an arrow, hand continuing to caress along your spine. Somewhat shy, you elected to sever your tangle of nerves, lips seeking his once more.

Cregan’s mouth crawled against yours, disarmingly gentle, intended to savor you instead of rushing headfirst into the fire. He smelled of leather and the woodlands, carrying a rustic scent upon his flesh, brow creased in concentration.

Sluggishly, your body shifted against him once more, feeling the muscle of his thigh press between your thighs. The sudden intrusion made you gasp, lips torn asunder as he broke your kiss, caging you against the hot expanse of his chest.

“Is that what you wish for?” Cregan’s low utterance made your stomach erupt with butterflies, able to feel the tantalizing shift of his thigh, allowing you to rock yourself into him.

Inexperience was scrawled into your features, confidence effectively extinguished then and there. It was your brazenness that had catapulted all of this into motion, and now, you were strangled by your own lack of knowledge.

“Yes, I — I’ve never …” As you attempted to vocalize your lack of physicality, Cregan soothed you with a kiss to your brow. “I do not wish to fully consummate — not yet.” With a strong sense of understanding, your betrothed nodded, digits idly caressing along your side.

“Then we are in agreement.” A sense of comfort flooded through you then, knowing that Cregan did not wish to cross such a boundary on this night. However, he had a plethora of fantasies to supplement your shared desires.

Bridging the gap between you once more, lips sealed themselves together, his palm moving to cup your jaw. It was inherently tender, the purpose of it ensuring your comfort with such acts, thigh continuing to teasingly brush against your core.

A gnawing ache continues to eat away at you, manifesting as arousal that begins to coalesce between your legs. As if acting upon instinct, you continue to grind yourself into his thigh, a soft moan catching within your throat.

Cregan’s palm begins to drift lower, from the plush curve of your waist to your backside, gingerly kneading into the pliant flesh. He is cautious, painstakingly gentle as he lavishes kiss after kiss to your wanting lips.

There is little space between you, replaced with a heated friction that seeps into your bones. No longer tormented by the plague of the Northern chill, your betrothed is eager to take the cold away. His chest bumps into yours, peaks of your breasts snug against the plane of muscle.

Crackling firelight paints the room in a feverish glow, embers beginning to wane like that of a fading sun. It is in your kiss that he finds a semblance of peace, hunger continuing to grow until it becomes some ravenous bite.

A soft gasp inhabits your lungs, sharp like the prick of a knife as you grind against his thigh once more, feeling it brush over a particular spot. Pleasure rippled through you, a foreign sensation that leaves you raw, yearning for more.

The ruffled collar of your shift begins to slip, sagging above your bosom, soft flesh unraveled to the ogling gaze of your betrothed. Mouths ceaselessly collide, wet and fervent, prompting you to reach for his bicep in order to anchor yourself.

Entangled beneath the furs, whatever bitter chill that once grasped your bones had dissipated entirely. Wandering fingers found their way to the nape of his neck, tangling around the chestnut tresses there. Each kiss made you feel delirious, dizzy with a wanton desire.

It was then that Cregan’s large hand smoothed across your body, from the dainty curve of your jaw to your stomach, and then up once more. The sluggish drag of his caress made you shiver, hips continuing to rock against his muscled thigh.

Calloused digits find the ties of your evening shift, his grip like that of hardened steel, not daring to unravel you, not yet. With another bruising kiss, you feel him withdraw, gray hues roving across your visage, drinking you in; enamored.

Wisps of hot, labored sighs drift between the both of you, wrought with exhilaration. Slowly, Cregan’s hand wanders, gathering against your thigh, bunched into the silk. “I wish to see more of you, princess.” He rumbled, brows furrowing together.

Fingertips trace along the nape of his neck, caressing along sinewy muscle. His throat bobs momentarily, a fleeting gesture; a needy hum tears past your lips as you nod. “Please.” It is all you can manage, words turning to ash upon your tongue.

Admittedly, he cared little for himself, staunchly devoted to your own pleasure and exploration, storm-laden gaze tinged with tenderness. The hand that had so fiercely grasped at the ties of your shift gives the silk a brief pull, loosening the fabrics altogether.

Beneath his incendiary stare, your heart begins to race, slamming beneath your breast as he gingerly tugs the collar downward. There is an indiscernible devotion within his eyes, a certain protectiveness that puts you at-ease.

Warm, roughened digits gingerly pry at your garment, easing the ruffled silks along your chest, unveiling the soft peaks of your breasts to him. A low grunt of approval stirred within his throat, reveling in the sensation of your lips against his jaw.

Everything about him exuded strength, an honorable stoicism that oozed from every pore. Without pause, you continued to plant kisses against his throat, body seizing with a punctuated gasp as he cupped your breast.

Flicking the pad of his thumb over your nipple, Cregan watched as your countenance contorted into an expression of bliss, lips beginning to part. He was disarmingly tender, kneading at the soft, pliant flesh of your chest, lips pressing against your cheek.

Any sliver of distance that had existed before had been squashed, forms molded to one another, hips begging for a scrap of friction. As you urged yourself against him, you felt the growing tent within Cregan’s trousers, feeling a tendril of warmth slither across your body.

Rough lips pressed a passionate trail of kisses along your neck, nose inhaling lungfuls of your saccharine scent. A pleading moan slipped past your lips, careening into the embrace of his hand.

“Cregan,” With a breathy sigh, your back arched slightly, as if strings tethered you to him, pulling you forward. His mouth hungrily explored your throat, traveling toward the silky plane of your collarbone. “Do not stop.” You whined.

It was all the encouragement he truly needed, bolstered by the tranquil hum of your voice. Lower, and lower still; until his mouth sank between your breasts, still kneading at one, thumb circling your nipple. Your body responded with a visceral glee, continuing to grind against him.

Beyond the archaic stone of Winterfell, the blizzard raged on with its howling gales — and yet, you had never been warmer.

Continuing to palm at your breast, Cregan’s mouth began to lavish the unattended peak in a myriad of kisses, worshiping you in the way that you rightfully deserved. A string of whines left you, gown-clad core brushing over his pelvis once more.

Taking one nipple into his maw, he kissed and sucked at the sensitive bud, a low grunt reverberating throughout his chest. His hips softly collided with yours, the friction driving him to the brink of madness.

Each kiss sent dizzying waves of bliss throughout your body, wisps of air stolen from your lungs as you clung to him, legs parted by the bulk of his thigh. Your shift had hitched higher, gathered towards your knees.

Gently rolling your hardened peak betwixt his fingers, Cregan did not relent, lavishing your breasts in kisses. In the midst of his alternation, his unoccupied hand graced your haunch, caressing into your backside, toying with the hem of your nightgown.

His burly musculature nearly swallowed you whole, wafting with a warmth that you had grown addicted to, longing for his heat as you would gusts of crisp air. Delicate fingertips idly traced along his broad shoulders, hips brushing against his own.

Calloused pads began to drift beneath your shift, crawling along your leg, akin to leather ghosting against velvet. Cregan suckled at your breast, assailing your sweet flesh in a barrage of kisses. Throaty moans signaled your approval of his actions.

Caressing along your inner thigh, his thumb drew circles into the supple skin there, lingering dangerously close to your aching core. Looming above you, his mouth pressed a gentle trail toward your throat, leaving a searing fire in his wake.

Seeking the coalescing warmth between your legs, you nearly choked upon a strangled gasp as Cregan’s digits ghosted along your petals. Arousal had gathered there, akin to the sticky sweetness of honey, prompting you to shiver beneath him.

Gray hues sought yours, boring into you with a burning intensity, enough to elicit a wave of gooseflesh, one that crawled along your spine. He exuded immeasurable restraint, fixated upon your own pleasure, upon your comfort. Wordlessly, he pushed deeper still, fingers pressing into your core.

A sharp exhale pierced your lungs, ripping through your diaphragm as you gripped his bicep, nails leaving behind crimson crescents. Cregan remained unperturbed, concentrating on his new charge, digits dragging in a sluggish rhythm.

Bliss unfurled from your features, a pleasure that blossomed throughout as your hips jolted forward of their own accord. “Cregan.” A breathy whine escaped you, lips clamoring for him once more. The kiss was intimate, a flurry of devotion and desire, now entangled.

“Easy, princess,” Cregan’s husky cadence had lulled you into subservience, able to feel his hot breath fan out across your skin. “Slowly.” He uttered, mouth returning to yours with a thinly-veiled rapture.

It became difficult to stifle your movements, kiss-swollen lips delighted to find him again. Each kiss was accompanied by a swipe of his digits, exploring your nethers with an obvious gentleness.

Between fervent exchanges, his gaze never once strayed from you, steely hues drinking in the weight of pleasure that permeated your visage. Beginning to increase his pace, he stroked along your aching cunt, thumb finding your pearl.

Tracing around the sensitive bud in slow, tantalizing circles, you could do little to smother your moans, hips occasionally lurching forward. The friction that festered between you was intoxicating, something that Cregan found himself savoring.

His lips returned to the hollow of your shoulder, the velvety dip between that and your throat. A string of kisses manifested there, digits continuing to caress over your slit. This rhythm was agonizing, your body screaming with ecstasy.

Chestnut tresses brushed against your neck as he began to suck at your supple flesh, enough to create a mark that would flourish with time. “Lay with your back to me.” Cregan rumbled, watching the flicker of excitement crawl across your features.

In silent subservience, you obeyed, slowly rolling over until your back was nestled snugly against the hot expanse of his chest. He was all indomitable muscle and oozing with strength, the swell of his cock grinding into your backside.

Thick digits returned to you, burly arm looped over your front, taut with impressive muscle. They became fervent in their ministrations, a finger beginning to trace over your entrance.

Caged against him, you used his bicep as leverage, digging into his rugged flesh as he kissed across your shoulder. “Gods, you are perfect.” As the husked roll of his voice echoed within your ear, you moaned, feeling his thumb continue to play with your clit.

Cregan’s other arm had looped beneath you, caressing your collarbone as he gently eased one digit inside of you, the sensation foreign yet exhilarating. It was unexpected, and yet you craved all of it, as much as he was willing to provide.

You squirmed, cunt aching for him in every way imaginable, hips jolting into the sensation of his practiced digits. As his thumb toyed with your pearl, he eased a finger in and out of you at a rhythmic pace, allowing you to grow accustomed to it.

Kisses lavished your soft flesh, seemingly endless, and you felt your bones scream for release. He touched you with such fervent passion, mouth clamoring for yours, lips unable to tear themselves away.

Despite the awkward angle of your head, you reciprocated his kiss as best as you could, needy moans swallowed by his maw. It was then that a second finger accompanied the first, sluggishly stretching you in a way that you didn’t think possible.

He was gentle yet vigorous, digits deliberately rocking themselves in and out of your tight cunt, thumb providing a burst of stimulation against your clit. Your warm, sweet breath fanned over him, mouth agape as a series of excitable pants escaped you.

Arousal clung to your flesh, the intensity of it only magnified, body assailed by sensations on all sides. As Cregan’s fingers pumped themselves in and out of your nethers, you felt your cunt clench pathetically around him.

“Cregan, I — I’m close,” A wanton huff tumbled from your lips, emerging as a moan against his mouth. He kissed you fervently, mouth wandering in the column of your throat, lavishing you in another barrage of kisses. “There.”

A furnace raged within you, a chasm of yearning soon to be quelled, tempered. Heat lapped at your flesh, burning with a smoldering temperature as desire washed over you. His dexterous fingers continued to circle around your pearl, causing you to stifle a moan.

Between the constant assault of lips, teeth, and fingers, you are barely able to register the white-hot rush of your pinnacle, writhing into Cregan’s hand. Thick digits stretch you still, rocking in and out of your snug cunt at a rhythmic pace.

It nearly blinds you, choking upon the cry that turns to ash within your throat. The visceral response of your body is one that Cregan longs to become intimately acquainted with, feeling you pulse around him as you reach your peak.

“That’s it, princess. I have you.” Soothing utterances slip beside your ear, bridge of his nose nuzzling your cheek, heat oozing from him like that of an open hearth. Caressing your stomach with one hand, the other works you through your release.

Through the tepid haze of your release, you begin to find your composure, sinking into his grasp as his hand begins to slow. Thighs tremble in the wake of such ecstasy, and you begin to turn back into Cregan, lips seizing his own in a soft kiss.

Unable to refuse you, the wolf indulges, reciprocating your kiss with such blistering passion that it nearly elicits a moan from you.

As you withdraw, flesh still stinging with an intense heat, you move enough to adjust your shift back into place, peering at him through your lashes. Before your palm can tend to the growing tent within his trousers, he stops you.

“Another night,” Cregan rumbled, moving to lay upon his back, allowing you to curl next to him, his arm finding its purchase around your hips. The other sprawls outward, allowing you to soak everything in. “Are you well?”

“I am,” Sitting up enough to perch your chin atop his chest, your palms draw delicate circles against his abdomen. He nearly smiles, grabbing one of them with a furrowed brow — your flesh is still cold. “Thank you, Cregan.”

A brief huff escaped him, warm palm caressing your own, attempting to provide some relief. “If you are agreeable, I would prefer it if you stay.” Cregan thoroughly enjoyed your presence, more than he ever thought he would.

A tender smile spread across your visage, a soft expression that beguiled him so, roused feelings of devotion from within. Even he seemed to blush, countenance muddied with a scarlet pallor as he caressed along your spine.

“I wish to stay, but what if something is said …” The last thing that you wanted was to besmirch the honor of an already honorable man. A twinge of amusement swirled within his gray hues, and he seemed dismissive of your worries.

“Let them gossip, princess,” Cregan reassured you, one brow quirking just enough to ensnare your attention. “After all, you are here to warm yourself.” His jest made you unbelievably flustered, and yet, he only coaxed you closer, tugging the furs around your bodies.

Heat persists where the chill does not, gone entirely; he is your warmth, and you willingly chase after him.