#hehe thank you ladies

[wedontdeservethestars]

JOHNNY CAGE X SHORT CHUBBY READER I TELL YOU HE LOVES HIS WOMEN THICC

ANON I'M NOT EVEN GONNA SAY THIS A CORRECT OPINION BECAUSE IT'S SO CORRECT THAT IT'S A STRAIGHT-UP FACT. Johnny prefers his girls chubby change my mind!!!!!!!!!!! (Hint: you cannot)

Anyways I know I say that I never write smut but I uh. I did this time. Congrats anon you got me to come out of my shell for Our Boy

Content: reader has female genitalia, smut, fluff, body worship, overall just a Lovely Time between you two

(Pspspsps I also put this on AO3 if anyone would like the link for that teehee)

You had no idea what it was about red carpet events that made Johnny up act but, but every time he invited you out to accompany him, it was a constant fight not to let the paparazzi see his hands all over you. Not that you minded much, but hey, one of you had to have some decency. Maybe it was the stream of complementary alcohol, maybe it was seeing you all dolled up in a pretty silk dress, maybe it was the inherent nature of red carpet events essentially being an excuse to say, “Hey, look how pretty I am, look how pretty my partner is,” or maybe, just maybe, it was a combination of all three. 

Never mind, you thought as Johnny pushed you up against the front door. It’s definitely the dress. 

Just like they had been for the past few hours, his large hands were grabbing and squeezing ever part of you he could manage like a fucking kid in the pillow section at Bed, Bath & Beyond. And the more he felt each curve, the more excited he seemed to be getting, attacking your throat and shoulders and face with his mouth.

“Hey,” you chuckled breathlessly. “Easy.”

“Don’t know–” Another kiss on your neck. “What you’re talkin’ about–” This one landed on your soft jawline. “Doll–”

“Can we at least get to the couch or something before I’m fully nude this time?” you whispered, a smirk playing on your lips. Johnny looked at you very seriously and shook his head.

“No shot.” He grabbed he straps of your dress and, with a not-too-unhappy sigh, you slipped your arms out of them. Your puppy of a boyfriend knelt in front of you and slowly, teasing both you and himself, pulled the front of your dress down. He really did love how it looked on you, the tight material hugging every single rondure and roll, the deep red shimmering in each crease of the fabric. But even more than he loved you in that dress, he loved you out of that dress. 

You let out a soft sound as his hot sigh of breath tickled your skin when he saw you standing there just in your bra and panties. Without fail, he always acted as though he was seeing you for the first time whenever you were in any state of undress. 

“Fucking goddess,” he murmured, and then his lips were all over your front. He was hugging your thick thighs like they were the only thing that would save him. His mouth dragged all around your belly and chest, pausing on occasion to kiss more deliberately or nibble a piece of soft skin. Each pause earned a small gasp or sigh from you.

“Johnny,” you whispered. 

“Huhm?” He glanced up at you, midway through giving one of your love handles a hickey and not bothering to stop. 

“You’re…” Your thoughts swam madly. The only thing you could focus clearly on were the warm tingles coursing through your nerves. You could hardly put a sentence together. “I need you on top of me…”

A smirk fell upon his lips and he pulled away from your tummy, admiring his work for a moment. Then, he grabbed your ass with both hands and squeezed hard, humming. 

“I can do that.” 

In a flash, he was lifting you into his arms. You couldn’t stop a smile from coming across your lips–somehow it always surprised you when he carried you, even though you knew that he was more than strong enough to support your weight. All that time spent building up his muscles wasn’t just for show.

Your bedroom was an agonizingly long way away up a whole entire flight of stairs. Clearly, Johnny couldn’t wait that long, because he brought you to the nearest couch instead (well, technically it was a fainting couch; Johnny said he needed it for dramatics, whatever that meant). 

Johnny wasted no time in unhooking your bra and discarding it on the floor. Your panties were next. The velvet sofa felt foreign against your bare skin, but not unwelcome. He took a breath as he straddled you and began to unbutton his dress shirt. The whole while, he stared down at you. His brown doe-eyes gleamed with adoration. 

“Look at you,” his voice rumbled like distant thunder. 

“You’ve been thinking about this all night, haven’t you?”

“Ohhh, longer than that,” he chuckled. His hands were tracing you again. He couldn’t seem to help himself. “I’m always thinking about this, stardust.”

“It’s so hard to tell,” you teased, your own fingers dancing along his toned thighs. His skin felt hot, and you didn’t think it was just because of the Californian summer heat. 

“Like it’s my fault?” He leaned down and peppered kisses all along one of your breasts. Pausing before continuing on, he grinned up at you, “How’m I supposed to keep it in my pants when I have the most gorgeous girl on earth around me all the time?”

A moan slipped out of you as he pulled your nipple between his teeth and grabbed the other between his thumb and forefinger. You squirmed beneath him and tried to get a coherent response out. 

“Can–God–can you–” Your breath was short. “Need you to touch me…”

“Yes, ma’am.” Johnny gladly slid himself down, taking the time to admire and graze your belly with his mouth. You could feel how hard he was against your plush thighs, one of which he grabbed and hung up over the back of the couch while the other he spread so it swayed over the floor. 

“God damn, you’re so fucking wet already, aren’t you?” he grinned, running a finger up your folds. You felt it all the way through your spine and it made you buck your hips up. 

“Uh-huh,” you nodded, dazed.

His tongue was next, pressing hard against you and flicking expertly between your sensitive lips. A sound that you had never made in your entire life escaped your throat. It only seemed to encourage Johnny as he quickened his pace. For once, he was completely silent save for the occasional grunt or groan, and for the absolute most blissful reason possible. You wanted to praise him, tell him to keep going and that you loved him and that you were in heaven right now, but your words wouldn’t work. Fortunately, the way you were moaning was probably sending the message pretty clearly.

You grabbed a fistful of his hair, watching his head bob beneath you. From the way his own hips moved, you could tell he was rubbing his bulge against the couch as he worked on you. His hand, not to go unexercised, gripped one of your thighs–the one propped up on the backseat–and began to massage it. In turn, you yanked on his hair, making his groans vibrate against your pussy. You did it again and again, feeling your heart race. Warmth built up in your chest, and your stomach, and especially your nethers.

After a bit, you pulled his hair more gently, guiding his mouth away from you. Johnny seemed confused and hazy, like he’d just been pulled out of a dream. “I don’t wanna cum yet,” you whispered. You were too close, and too fast. You needed this to last. 

“Can do, babe.” He flashed a smile and sat up. “Gives me some time for this…”

You watched as Johnny finally pushed his slacks down and pulled his length out of his boxer-briefs. He was throbbing and hard, and as he began to stroke himself you could see his tip glistening with precum. 

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he groaned, leaning his head back as he ran his thumb over his slit. 

Suddenly, you decided that you did need to cum. Right now, in fact. You grabbed his hips and guided them forward, an eager look in your eyes. Immediately, Johnny understood.

“Yeah?” he breathed, his lips curving into a smirk.

“Please,” you nodded. Johnny spat into his hand and rubbed it along himself. He tilted your rear up a bit and positioned himself at your entrance. He paused and looked down at you. He smiled.

“What?” you breathed.

The smile, mischievous and greedy, widened. He didn’t move. You let out a whine and pouted. 

“Johnny! Don’t—don’t tease, I can’t right now—“

“Then tell me,” he murmured. “Tell me how much you want it.”

“Please?” You looked up at him with shiny eyes. “Please fuck me…”

He pushed forward—just enough to brush up against you. “I’m not convinced.”

“Please!” you cried out again. “I need it so bad, you feel so good, and—and I wanna cum, please?”

Johnny chuckled and leaned down, pressing a kiss to the center of your chest.

“Only I can make you feel like this. Right, baby?”

“Right,” you nodded quickly. “Yes. You’re fucking—amazing, and, and so hot…”

“Yeah, I am,” he whispered, and then without warning he slid right into you. You let out a whimper so loud that you clapped a hand over your mouth afterwards, your cheeks turning bright red at whatever that was. Johnny chuckled breathlessly and took your hand away, pinning it behind your head.

“No, no, babe. I gotta hear all those pretty little sounds my gorgeous goddess wants to make.”

On cue, the remark made you moan. He rewarded you with a firm thrust against your soft hips. His unoccupied hand sank into your side as he pumped over and over again.

“God—so pretty—“ he muttered. His face was growing several shades darker as he continued.

“Please, please,” you begged again, curling your fingers into fists.

“You close again?” His soft voice broke through.

“Mhmm…” You writhed for a moment before letting your body flow with his, both of you bouncing back and forth. Your eyes fluttered open every now and then. Each time you did, you saw Johnny gazing down at you, his eyes lusted over but filled to the brim with complete obsession with this. With you.

“Oh–” you whispered soon, squeezing your eyes shut. “Johnny, I–I’m gonna—”

“Go ahead, princess,” he nodded, his voice husky and low in a way that you only ever heard during times like this. It drove you over the edge. With one last cry, your legs quivered and you felt yourself close around him, causing a similar moan from him, and each nerve in your system was full of warmth and complete euphoria for a split second. Your breaths began to even out. Your muscles relaxed. Johnny pulled out as you lay there, panting, and finished the job for himself above you. A warm spray landed on your tummy as he grunted and groaned, and then it was over.

Both out of breath, both smiling like idiots, both completely satisfied. 

“Oh, babe,” Johnny sighed about nothing in particular. He sat back and let you shift into a more comfortable position. Everything felt warm and sticky, but you didn’t really mind. 

Johnny trailed a hand up your still-wet stomach and rubbed it gently across all your belly, coating the front of it with his cum. You gave him a shaky sigh at the gesture. It felt strangely nice. 

“I’d offer to clean you up, but you look so pretty like this,” he admitted, giving you a half-hearted shrug. You laughed softly as he stood up anyway and, after nearly forgetting to tug his boxers up, wandered down the hall to one of the first-floor bathrooms, leaving you to bask in the veil of after-arousal. 

You didn’t even notice he’d returned until you felt the towel touch your skin, damp with warm water and no doubt imported from some European country. Once you were all cleaned up, you reluctantly sat up and noticed the dark velvet of the couch was stained where you two had been before.

“Oops,” you chuckled, feeling a little guilty for ruining the luxury fabric but not enough to regret anything. 

“Eh, that’s what the maids are for,” Johnny shrugged, taking a seat beside you. He rested his head against your chest, sighing contentedly.

“I’m so tired now,” you mumbled. “We didn’t even do much…”

“Minus the whole night of drinking and partying?”

“I guess.” You rolled your eyes and rumpled his hair. The pomade he’d slicked it back with had come loose a few hours ago, leaving several strands hanging down in his face. It was cute.

“You’re pretty,” he said suddenly. 

“So you’ve said.” But it still made you blush.

“I know. But I mean it. You’re the prettiest…ever,” he decided on. 

“Hun,” you laughed softly. “Well, thank you.”

“I’m lucky.” He pouted for a moment as he thought. “People always say that. I get lucky breaks and lucky with auditions and lucky with all the deals…but that’s not luck. It’s charisma and talent and whatever. Lucky is, is meeting someone like you out of the blue. Finding you out of seven million people on this earth.”

“Billion.”

“Huh?”

“It’s seven billion people.”

“Whatever.” He buried his face in your chest, muffling is speech. “You get my point.”

“I do,” you whispered. You stroked his hair again and smiled as he gave you a big squeeze. You said, “I love you, too.”

[notbadforafailedvessel]

Batcina AU - Part II

Part I, Part III, Part IV

@mymommawanda: Hope you like it!

It's not your first time taking care of a wounded animal, but it's definitely the first time said animal has an attitude.

You were used to the fear, the hesitation to trust you, succumbing to their instincts when presented with tempting food, lowering their walls with patience and sincere affection towards them, finally giving way to the gratitute.

This bat had none of those. It mainly acts like you are expected to take care of it, like it was making you a favor by allowing it.

It hadn't attack you. Not by lack of trying from its part but because you had been fast enough to avoid the scratches and bites.

You had been forced to use a garden glove whenever you want to hold it still to fed it, which has proven to be quite the challenge.

You have tried with fruit first, only for the bat to turn its head to the side to avoid it. The next attempt had been with insects, which only earned you a glare with those distinctive golden eyes.

You were getting desperate because it had been two days and the bat hasn't eaten anything so far and you didn't want it to get weaker.

You were contemplating other options while preparing your food. Completely distracted by your thoughts you cut your finger.

Within seconds, before you even have the chance to react, the bat is on the countertop, licking the blood that was coming out of your wound.

It surprises you the softeness and lingerlyness of the licks. After the fierness the little creature has shown these days, you would have never imagined such gentleness and calmness could come from it.

For some reason it makes you blush and you decide to withdraw your hand, and when the bat turns to look at you, you nod. "All right, buddy. I get it now."

Any kind of truce it's over after those words and the bat it's screeching offendedly at you in the next second.

You imagine the reason why it's because you have removed its food source, which you are quick to compensate by filling a bowl with blood from your last hunt.

The bat doesn't look entirely pleased as it had looked when it was feeding from your blood but it still drinks it, which was better than the previous days.

But the next time you use the word "buddy" to address the little creature, the screeching happens again.

"So you don't like the word buddy, huh?" As you expected, the screech is your answer. "And what should I call you? You have a peculiar way of acting, like royalty. So what about: your highness?" You can't stop the sarcasm from your words.

The bat doesn't screeches but hisses. By now you know the difference from the screeches and the hisses. The first ones meant anger, the latter was a warning to treat carefully.

You snort. "Too much?" You sigh. "It would help if I knew if you are a lady or-"

The bat interrupts you, fluttering its good wing as if to catch your attention. "A lady?"

The bat preens at your words and you are convinced its- she's smirking at you, like it's getting away with something you aren't aware of.

You don't question it. It's not like you are going to get an answer anyway. But after that day, you start addressing the bat as "my Lady."

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Alcina knows that the best way to speed up her recovery process is by taking blood.

Her plan for that first night was waiting for you to fall asleep to set it into motion but you don't sleep that night, commited to take care of her and make sure there wasn't a more serious problem; and the following nights she is placed inside a birdcage when it's your time to sleep, like an animal.

Despite knowing the misunderstanding it's not entirely your fault, Alcina decides that once she's able to turn back into her human form, you would met your demise after such offense.

After a week under your care, and be fed animal blood for a few days to strengthen her but not enough to be completely healthy, Alcina starts to feel angsty.

She wonders if Mother Miranda has noticed her absence. Or even worse, if the mob continued their path and dare to make their way to the other Lord's residences and take them aback and defenseless.

She knows Mother Miranda would blame her if that happens. She was the first defense line and so far, nobody had been capable to pass through her.

So with the prospect of failing in her mind, Alcina takes a risky and stupid decision.

She ignores the soreness of her wing. At least she's capable to keep herself in the air and she's convinced she's well enough to make the trip to Mother Miranda's place, and once there she was sure her creator would offer a human to recover entirely.

One night, before she's stuck inside the birdcage for the night, Alcina takes advantage of the fact that the front door is slightly ajar, since you never noticed it hadn't close after you when you went out to do who knows what on the garden, to escape.

She knows it would be simpler if you don't notice she was gone. She doesn't want to give you the opportunity to hold her as if she was nothing and stop her from her goal.

Alcina is not aware of the dangers she could face, especially at night. Because she's not used to be a prey. So when she faces an owl, that in her current form is six times bigger than her, her first reaction is to headbutt the obstacle that is in her way.

When you are back and notice the open door, you don't worry at all because you know your winged lady is far from being recovered and you like to think she is smart enough to know it.

However, you are capable to sense the absence the moment you step inside, a sensation of dreadness immediately washing you over, which increases when you hear the familiar sound of screeching moments later.

You run like you're being chased to where the sound of commotion is coming from, not taking the moment to think to take some sort of weapon in case you need it.

For a few seconds you are frozen by the image. Despite knowing how cruel nature can be, you aren't dehumanized when you witness such things.

The owl is standing over the bat's wings, using the talons to pierce the membrane to subdue it, the little creature writhing desperately. The moonlight helping you to see the blood in the ground because you have dropped your lantern along the way in your hurry.

The screeching hasn't stopped and it's until you are able to see what's happening that you realize it's not an angry screech like the ones you were used to. This time is a screech of pain.

It's that what puts you in motion, just as the owl straightens up, fluttering its wings while opening its beak to give the last blow.

You take a fallen branch hoping the noise is enough to frighten the bird and make it go away. Though there's a part of you who envisions yourself hitting the animal with the branch just to take out your fear in some way.

You don't do it though, sticking with your plan of hitting a tree to draw the owl's attention, who shrieks threateningly looking at you without moving from its spot, almost like it was expecting you to be the one to surrender to its presence.

You keep moving towards the animals, trying to make as much noise as possible until the owl gives up, realizing that you won't do it and finally flies away.

With your heart beating wildy in your chest, you squat just like the first time. Though in this ocassion, your hands are trembling as you reach to take the bat in your hands.

"It's okay, my Lady," you whisper with a trembling voice, your eyes filling with tears that you don't shed at the feeling of the blood and see the wounds up close in your small companion. "You are safe now."

The bat looks at you, but as you bring her closer against your chest, cuddling her in reassurance, she closes her eyes tiredly, leaning her small head against you.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

After the rescue, things take a radical twist in the interactions between you and your winged lady.

The animal no longer behaves as if you are an enemy, as if she was expecting the slightest mistake from your part to take advantage of it.

When in the past she preferred to be away from you but without losing sight of you, as if she was spying you, now she was close to you most of the time ─ climbing your arm to take a spot on your shoulder if you were standing and doing chores, or resting on your thigh when you were sitting down, or on chest when you were lying down. Looking for a comfort that you are so happy to provide with tender petting on her head and body, and with the attention and caring to take her back to health, which provides to be easier to do now that the bat it's on your side.

Because of it, it was no longer necessary to put her in the birdcage during bedtime, letting her roam freely the whole day and cuddling on the pillow next to your head when it was time to sleep.

You can't explain how giddy this changes makes you feel.

Alcina is in complete awe of you after you saved her.

Never before someone has taken care of her, much less protect her in the way you had and are still doing.

In all the irony, within her built family Alcina has learned to be independent, to deal with things in her own and never count with anyone. She wants to stand out and being the favorite which entails to always being on guard and not showing any kind of weakness, much less depending on others.

When it comes to humans, she is used to people being afraid of her, people running in the opposite direction when they see her. And even though it's something that thrills her, your actions are able to move her in a way nobody has done it.

After a few weeks Alcina is completely recovered and even though both of you wish to prolong your time together, it's not possible.

Alcina, even though has allowed herself to take the necessary time to heal this time without feeling guilty, still has responsabilities and needs to face any possible consequence of her absence.

It only takes one look for you to understand what your Lady wants to tell you the day she looks through the window with purpose.

Even when your heart screams at you to keep the bat with you, that's something you would never do to an animal that it's meant to be free.

On the other hand, if that would happen for some crazy reason, you would want it to happen because she chooses to stay with you and not because she's forced to it.

Alcina climbs into your hand when it's presented to her, and you walk out of the cabin, smiling sadly at her once you are out and she lifts her head to look at you.

"Farewell, my Lady," you clear your throat after it cracks. You always feel affection towards the animals you take care of and the time to say goodbye it's always bittersweet. This time though, it's heartbreaking for some reason you can't understand.

Your emotions are so raw that Alcina can't feel like she's being rejected or kicked away, knowing that this is hard for you. Just as it's proving to be for her. Which staggers her ─ a few weeks ago she was desperate to leave this place and she now wants to have a reason to stay without consequences.

You kiss the small head, lingering for a few seconds before pulling back. "Please, take care of yourself. You are welcome to visit me whenever you want, no need to harm yourself to do it," you joke, forcing a smile.

You sniff when your Lady gently licks your wrist and part of your palm, giving you one last piercing look with those unique eyes before taking flight, ending it all as unexpectedly as it started.

You go back inside once you can no longer see your winged lady, not wanting to give much thought to the acute sensation that you had just missed a very important thing for you.

[book-a-bilia]

Oh. OH. Foul Heart Huntsman because Orion is Huntsman

[rogueshadeaux]

Chapter Thirty-Eight — Prognosis

I think those were the worst parts of it all; the waiting. That silence that left way too much time for the thoughts to get louder. Sitting on the stiff examination bed in a hospital gown felt more suffocating than a noose, the center of a horrible sort of attention.

4.5 k words | 15-20 min read time | TRIGGER WARNINGS: Hospital, procedures, medical events

⚠️AUTHOR'S NOTE: Another chapter, another friend! How could I not let the world's best doctor be a part of this tale, especially when the RowlandRoweWhatever family needs someone with a special set of skills they can't get at just any ol' hospital? Thank you @infamoussparks for letting me steal your girl and show off her brilliant skillset, the inaugural first outreach towards the people who make this fandom fantastic.

I sat up as the patient couch pulled out of the scan machine, pulling the earplugs out of my ears and opening my jaws to force a pop. 

Dad had nearly blown a gasket when Dr. Sims explained what they wanted to do on Monday—or, moreso, how they wanted to do the imaging for it. A dose of diluted raythium with a dye in it for tracing the conducrine and every protein it produced in the time I was in there. “You want to put that stuff in my daughter?” Dad demanded, “A day after we just figured out how dangerous this shit is?”

Dr. Sims did his best to try and placate Dad’s worry, telling him it wasn’t the same. “It’s at least not gonna cause anything bad,” he assured him, “But it’s the only way to activate the proteins in her to observe them,” 

Dad eventually relented, letting Dr. Sims whisk me away as he stayed back with Brent; he wasn’t allowed in the radiology department while I was getting an MRI just in case the magnet became too attracted to his steel. 

“You did great, Jean,” Aunt Sia assured me with a low voice as I slipped off of the patient couch, Dr. Sims wheeling in a wheelchair. They wouldn’t let me walk, and I hated it—I wasn’t crippled, just broken. 

Didn’t matter—either way, I was pushed through the hall like some spectacle. 

Dad pushed off from his place leaned against the wall when the door to the exam room opened, rushing to meet me as Aunt Sia wheeled me in. He glanced down at me, smile stressed and forced, before looking up at Dr. Sims. “Get what you need?” he asked.

Dr. Sims nodded, taking the chair back from Aunt Sia. “Yeah. I’ll be back with the specialist in a bit.”

And there we were, caught in another waiting lull. 

I think those were the worst parts of it all; the waiting. That silence that left way too much time for the thoughts to get louder. Sitting on the stiff examination bed in a hospital gown felt more suffocating than a noose, the center of a horrible sort of attention. It didn’t help that they all had quickly shifted back to treating me like broken glass; Brent was silent and blankly watching me, seeming to examine every move, Dad was still acting as if I’d drop dead any second, and Aunt Sia insisted on coming. Said she wanted to support me. And I mean, sure, I was thankful that they cared…but it was suffocating. Demeaning. Even if that’s not how they meant it, it’s how it felt. 

There was a swift knock on the door, and Dad didn’t even finish saying something about coming in before the door opened—and the sharp click of heels against the hickory floor. 

The person that walked in most definitely wasn’t Dr. Sims. Her red hair was more natural auburn than Aunt Sia’s bright red, shoved away in a messy bun that somehow looked like it took twenty minutes to set. There was one fancy silver pen sticking out of it and that somehow looked deliberate too. If someone asked me to picture a ‘confident scholar,’ it’d probably be someone like her; white blouse, black pants, eyeliner that looked sharp enough to prick my finger for a blood sample. The lab coat swayed behind her as she walked confidently into the room, Dr. Sims closing the door. 

But her smile was warm and welcoming as she looked over the room, greeting, “Hello!” She regarded me first, smiling, “I’m Dr. Hutch—you must be Jean.” 

I smiled back sheepishly as Dr. Hutch’s eyes moved to Dad, something in them registering. “You must be Mr…Rowland? Rowe?” 

Dad chuffed, “I’m not even sure, at this rate,” 

Dr. Hutch accepted his admittance with grace, offering a hand to shake. Dr. Sims turned just as Dad stood, eyes widening when he moved to share the doctor’s hand—and with a shimmering sound and a flash of blue, he was across the room in an instant, gripping Dad’s wrist and yanking it upwards away from Dr. Hutch.

“You don’t wanna do that, D,” Dr. Sims warned, looking at Dad knowingly. The realization struck me almost immediately. 

She was a Conduit. 

Brent seemed to come to the same conclusion, eyebrows shooting up as he glanced at me. “Right, sorry.” Dad said, letting his hand fall. 

Dr. Hutch smiled, “I’ll go with Rowe, then,” she said simply, her own going to rest on her hip. She looked between Dad and I, getting right down to business. “I’m a certified genetic counselor, and I’m here to run one last diagnostic on Jean before we go over your test results—and what I found out from what you sent me,” she added, looking over her shoulder at Dr. Sims. 

I looked her over; nice outfit, a lab coat, and…quite literally nothing else. She made no move to pull anything out of the pockets on her coat, either. Hadn’t we established there was nothing wrong with my DNA? Why was there a genetic counselor here? Dad seemed to think the same, because he asked, “What sort of diagnostic?”

“I want to observe her health on the cellular level,” Dr. Hutch informed him. “It would give us a better idea of what could possibly be the problem here.”

“Do you—” I hesitated, not even sure how to ask what I wanted to ask. “Do you have to draw blood?”

Yeah, that’d have to do.

Dr. Hutch smiled gently, shaking her head once. “No. I’d just need about ten seconds of your time, and your hands.” 

My brow furrowed; my hands? How was she going to examine me with those? Was she gonna palm read her way to my diagnosis? I glanced over at Dad, who looked intrigued more than confused. “Alright,” he said simply, giving consent for whatever procedure she had in mind. 

Dr. Hutch nodded, beginning to roll up her sleeves before asking, “May I see your hands please, Jean?” I hesitated, looking at the cast on my right arm, and Dr. Hutch seemed to understand my concern, placating it with, “Don’t worry—just your fingers are fine.”

She brought her own hands out in a gentle show of faith, a soft coax of her fingers convincing me to lay mine in hers. Her manicured nails clicked gently against my cast as her hands closed over mine, and I could just barely hear her hum to herself as the seconds ticked by. 

Dr. Hutch spent the first few of those ten seconds looking down at where our hands met, but once she passed five, she looked up, eyes trailing along my body as she began to look for something. It was there that I saw it; her eyes were this rich green with golden flecks around her pupil, but the longer the time passed, the brighter that yellow got. 

She was using her power on me. 

Her brow furrowed further as she went from looking at me to around me, like she was searching for something in the air. Her counting progressed further, past seven, and she began to stare at specific spots like she was deciphering hieroglyphics, trying to understand something more than any of us could fathom. 

“...ten.” She breathed. She glanced over at Dr. Sims and shook her head before letting go of the hand in a cast to gently pat the back of my other one before setting it in my lap, moving away to stand by Dr. Sims once more. 

Dr. Sims crossed his arms, looking down at the floor for a moment before saying, “Thank you, Dr. Hutch.” 

Neither of them seemed happy. 

I think everyone else caught on to the sudden shift in tone in the room as well; Aunt Sia moved a bit closer, and her hand came to my back, rubbing it gently. Dad moved two steps to close the gap between us to put his hand on my knee, and Brent’s brow furrowed as he watched them both move. 

Dr. Hutch sighed hard before looking up at Dad. “I’d like to clarify, before we begin, that my power is magnification,” Dr. Hutch began. “I can essentially narrow in on the gene structure of any person and pick apart their DNA sequence just by ten seconds of contact, much like how an electron microscope functions when examining a blood sample. I prefer hand holding as it’s comforting and easy to mask with extended handshakes for those I simply have a hunch about. As I build up to ten seconds I can see the DNA sequence clearer and with that I can determine if anything is out of place or exists when it maybe shouldn’t. I’ve yet to find an instance where I’ve been wrong.”

Jeez, with a power like that, I don’t understand why we didn’t come here to begin with.

“So you’re sure you know what’s wrong with Jean?” Brent asked, looking at Dr. Hutch. 

“We had results before bringing in Dr. Hutch, however, she’s the best second opinion you could ask for. I wanted to make sure.” Dr. Sims said. He inhaled deep, looking like he was biting down on his cheek so roughly he was going to chew a hole straight through it. He looked between Dad and I, cutting right to the chase: “I’m diagnosing Jean with conducrinopathy.”

Dad’s grip on my knee tightened and his jaw tensed, and I swear to god he looked like he was about to start breaking down walls. “What’s…” I glanced at Dad before looking back at Dr. Sims. “What’s condu…that?”

Dr. Hutch took over the explanation, beginning with, “Well, your conducrine—between your shoulder blades, right about where she’s touching right now—is what gives you power. It produces rayacitins, the proteins that change this energy into your elemental conduvergence.”

Conduvergence—that was what they called the powers, right? Using a power was conduvergence. “Okay,” I hummed, nodding. But I didn’t understand; what did this have to do with what was wrong with me?

“A typical Conduit has a set amount of rayacitin proteins in their body, and when they’re running low, that causes that pain you feel in your shoulders.” Dr. Hutch continued, trying her best to dumb this down for me. “They’re also what influences other cells to heal faster. Less proteins, less power, slower healing. More, the opposite.”

Oh, okay. “So is my condushine—”

“Conducrine.” Dr. Sims interrupted. 

“Conducrine,” I corrected, looking back at Dr. Hutch. “Is it just not making enough proteins?”

She looked to Dr. Sims, who sat on my question for a moment. “Sort of.” he agreed hesitantly, head bouncing side to side gently like he was considering which way to go with his explanation. “Conducrinopathy is when the conducrine itself begins to dysfunction. Its protein output wanes, you’re correct. That’s probably the cause of your pain, currently. But it…I suppose the best way to understand exactly what happens is to consider it…a sort of organ failure.”

All my breath left in one huff, and it felt impossible to breathe in more. “What?” I whispered. 

“Your conducrine is in a manageable state right now,” Dr. Hutch interrupted. “But as the disease progresses, it will begin to produce corrupted proteins. Your power will…will turn on you.”

“Wait, like the old forced Conduits?” Brent cut in. He looked furious, but his anger wasn’t aimed at Dr. Hutch and Dr. Sims with his question. 

Dr. Sims nodded. “That’s the main instance we’ve seen conducrinopathy, yes. The conducrine is due to turn on a Conduit if it is forced to copy artificial proteins. It’s like using the wrong blood type in a transfusion. But it has happened to two Prime Conduits. A patient here, and—”

“Mom.” I looked at Dad. “That’s what happened, isn’t it? When she started looking gray a-and sick in the pictures. Her power was killing her.”

“We can’t assume that it was killing her,” Dr. Sims interrupted as Dad’s eyes fell and he stared at the floor, face void of any emotion. “But if we had to compare how she was to the data we have now, then…yes, she more than likely had the same condition.”

My fingers went to mess with my cast, and I couldn’t think of anything to ask. What the hell was I supposed to say? Cool, doc, thanks for the Conduit cancer diagnosis! I felt on the verge of a panic attack. 

Aunt Sia rubbed my shoulder like she was trying to ease the tension out of it, and that was enough to get me to regurgitate one of the thousands of thoughts running through my mind. “Can you cure it?” I asked, looking back at Dr. Sims and his partner with pleading eyes. 

Dr. Hutch looked down at the ground as Dr. Sims appeared to try and swallow back bile. “We…there’s no known cure yet, though in your situation, this has only happened to one other prime whose progression of illness could be followed. There are noted differences between the symptoms in primes versus forced Conduits, but we’re…these are uncharted waters. We don’t know what to expect.”

“What are the differences?” Dad finally asked, voice robotic. “What can we expect?”

Dr. Sims looked like he wanted to do anything but answer Dad’s questions. Like he hated being the bearer of bad news. “The pain and tenderness between the shoulderblades is common. That will probably be the most persistent symptom. However the amount of healthy rayacitin proteins in her body will…they won’t be replaced by healthy ones. The damaged cells will spread further instead, and it’ll…her powers will start getting weaker. Maybe disappear entirely. The healing is usually the first to go.”

Dr. Sims looked at the ground and scuffed his shoe on the wood before adding, “We don’t know how her power will turn on her, either. That will change the status of her condition from manageable to severe more than anything else. And…between Fetch, and the other prime Conduit we’ve observed, decline is…faster in prime Conduits. The way a forced Conduit is already stunted in power is enough to delay it significantly more than a prime, especially when considering how much weaker they are.”

“And you’re sure it’s this?” He asked, looking between the doctors. His eyes settled on Dr. Hutch. “How can you be positive?”

Dr. Hutch was trying her best to keep her face neutral. “When using my powers, I can see this aural ring around people. I can tell if they have the gene, if they’re activated—your daughter has both signs. But there is also something wrong with the aura on her. It’s turning black. The only other times I’ve seen that is when I’ve run diagnostics for Dr. Sims upon his request.”

Dr. Sims shook off the discomfort of the moment, moving a step closer. “Delsin, I’m gonna be here every step of the way in case something happens,” he looked at me, “We’re going to make sure you’re, at minimum, comfortable.”

I hated how he phrased that. Comfortable? It didn’t sound like he was offering to just help me with pain, it sounded like there was more to the statement. A promise for there to be a comfortable end.

And I wasn’t a fool, I knew how this was going for all the old DUP agents; they were either all ill as could be, or slowly succumbing to their illness. His words sounded like he was offering me management if it came to that, too. 

Fuck. Fuck. Tears immediately began to pool in my eyes and it was hard to keep them away. No cure, no help, no idea what was going to happen. But I needed to know one thing: “Am I gonna die?” 

That was the wrong set of words to use; Brent immediately threw his hand back to hammer the side of it against the wall, the hit so hard plaster immediately caved under his fist. He pushed off and stalked away, brushing past Dr. Sims to the door and throwing it open, disappearing into the hall. 

Dad sighed, head falling. “Sia, can you—”

“‘Course,” she said, patting my shoulder gently before leaving the room, heeled combat boots echoing loudly as she jogged to catch up to him. 

The silence in the room truly was deafening, the air thick as the remaining four of us grappled with what just happened. Everything felt like it was slipping away; the color in the blue hospital gown I had on, the noise of the cars on the street outside. This was it. I really was broken. 

And there was no way to fix it. 

Dad squeezed my knee three times, and suddenly I was shot back to when I was a little girl trying to sit through the scariest moment of her life: vaccine day at the doctors. Me sitting at the end of an uncomfortable bed just like this, gripping the edge for dear life as Dad sat across from me, a hand on my knee. Three reassuring squeezes. I love you. 

Took me far too long to realize he’d do it when the needle went in and I’d miss the scariest part of the whole event. 

Now he was trying to reassure me yet again, forcing a deep breath into his chest as he lifted his head, looking at Dr. Sims. “This didn’t start happening to Jean till that fight with Augustine,” he began. “Conducrinopathy doesn’t happen to just anyone. Something caused this.” 

Dr. Sims sighed. “Delsin, her powers just manifested. We truly don’t know if this can be an inheritable condition or not.” 

“Well,” Dr. Hutch held up a finger. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say that yet, either.” 

Both Dad and Dr. Sims shot her a confused look. Dr. Hutch didn’t bother waiting for one of them to interrogate her, instead digging into the pocket of her lab coat and pulling out three blood collection tubes full of anything but blood. “I analyzed the two samples you sent, Eugene. And your friend downstairs passed a third to me earlier this morning.” 

Dad immediately bristled. “We don’t have another friend here,” he said, guarded. 

Dr. Hutch cocked her head to the side, concern on her face. “You don’t?” 

“What did they look like?” Dr. Sims interrupted. Dad’s hand tensed on my knee. 

“Short, wide set. Wore sunglasses inside for some reason which I’m…” she drew off. “Now I’m worried was to disguise himself.” 

I knew someone that matched that description exactly, but it wasn’t someone with a hidden agenda. “That’s Zeke,” I forced myself to murmur. My voice didn’t sound like mine. It didn’t even feel like I was talking. Was this what dissociation felt like? Feeling like I was witnessing the room from outside the window to the right? 

Dad scowled…but something in his expression shifted. “He brought you something to analyze?” He asked Dr. Hutch, surprised Zeke even cared. 

“He did,” she confirmed, holding up a collection vial that had black liquid in it that turned iridescent with a deep green where light hit it. I knew that liquid—that’s what Zeke took from the First Sons’ base in New Marais. “Said he hoped it would help me find answers for Jean.” 

Dr. Sims looked at Dad, who almost looked remorseful in a way before blinking a few times, inhaling. “And what did you find?” he asked. 

“Well, from what I understand, these two samples were acquired in New Marais,” Dr. Hutch said, shifting the samples in her hands so she could hold a pair up to the light. “I examined their properties and their aural signatures, and they’re certainly interesting. To save you the technical terms, these two samples almost replicate poison in a way. This one—” she pointed to the black and dark green liquid, “—the poison itself while this contained the cells it was affecting. However instead of killing the cells, they seemed to mutate them. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Dad went on to tell Dr. Hutch what we saw when underground, and how we found files that suggested the creepy crawlies in the First Sons’ basement were Conduits turned creatures. She reacted with horror in the right parts of the tale, but her eyes were alight with a curiosity that she couldn’t hide well at all. “I didn’t know that was possible,” she said. “I knew there were instances of monsters in New Marais but never really followed up on why.” 

“We were worried, with it corrupting Conduits, that it could be what happened to Jean,” Dad finished. 

Dr. Hutch shook her head. “I don’t think that’s the case. Where these two are similar, the one from Salmon Bay is completely different.” She stored away the two vials in her lab coat and held the one full of tar to Dr. Sims, who took it without hesitation. “It matches the signature of every case of conducrinopathy I’ve seen—including Jean’s. It has the same…darkness to it, but at a strength that made it nearly impossible to read without feeling ill after.” She glanced between Dad and I. “It’s like it’s emitting something far more dangerous than a regular Conduit can handle.”

Dad stood, hand leaving my knee to step forward and take the vial from Dr. Sims’ outstretched hand. “So this tar is what caused Jean’s sickness?”

“She was injected with it, correct?” Dr. Hutch asked. 

Dad motioned to my leg hanging over the edge of the bed. “Augustine’s concrete had this tar on it when she managed to pierce Jean’s leg,” he informed her.

The scarring and spider veins on my left leg hadn’t faded at all in the last week. The raised scars were still an angry red and brown, the veins alight like they were lightning with how bright the blue was against my legs. Dr. Sims took a few steps forward, motioning for me to bring my leg up and hooking his hand behind my calf so he could examine it closer. “I need to get this and the break checked on, next,” I could hear him mutter to himself like he was making a checklist. 

Dr. Hutch joined Dr. Sims, looking at my injury from over his shoulder. “It looks like it attempted healing,” she observed. 

“If you’re right, and that tar caused her sickness, could this be when the conducrinopathy started happening?” Dad asked, pointing to my scars. “They’re healed wrong because it was running out of time?” 

Dr. Sims’ brow furrowed. “The results did come back abnormal,” he muttered. He turned my shin lightly and then looked up. “Knowing the tar is practically the same as the illness, I wouldn’t be surprised if so.”

Dad stared at my scarring for a long time, long enough for Dr. Hutch to clear her throat awkwardly and say, “I’m sorry for bringing bad news. If there’s anything I can do to help…”

Dr. Sims sighed. “We’ll be visiting palliative care later today for the patient, if you’d be willing to meet us there.”

“Of course.” 

Dr. Hutch gave me a nod before turning on her heels and leaving the room, the sound of the door as it latched shut behind her feeling like a gavel strike of a death sentence. Dad, still staring at my leg, shook his head and brought a hand up to rub against his face. “Someone did this.” He said. 

“Del—”

“If that tar matches what’s wrong with Jean, then Augustine caused this. I don’t know if it’s because she got a new power, or somehow fucked with her old one—”

“Delsin—”

“But her power caused organ failure.” Dad finished with a stressed voice, and I wasn’t sure if it was to talk over Dr. Sims or simply because he was stressed. “We need to find out how she got the ability.” 

Dr. Sims shifted on his feet, thinking. “We can’t be sure that it’s not something that Augustine simply developed,” he warned. 

Dad shook his head. “I don’t believe that. Archangel helped Augustine. They tried finishing what she couldn’t do! She had to have gotten this power from somewhere.”

“I understand that, but you have to realize—this is the first time we’ve seen a situation like this with its cause. The forced Conduits develop conducrinopathy naturally, and we don’t know how the other two instances of this happened in primes—“ 

“But we know it’s not normal.” Dad retorted. “What happened to Abbs? What’s happening to Jean? Shouldn’t be a thing.” 

There were three sharp raps on the door and Aunt Sia returned, looking between Dad and Dr. Sims as the latter refused to let his gaze wander. “Archangel did something to make this happen, it was probably the plan the entire time—just for me. But this is some sort of power, right?”

“I’m not sure—“ Dr. Sims tried saying as Dad rambled on.

“—so we just need the power to fix it. Only way it’s coming out is the same way it went in.” 

“Delsin, this isn’t like then. We don’t know where the power came from or if it’s something new at all.” Dr. Sims finally put enough power into his voice to interrupt. “This is the only time it’s happened like this. For all we know, with the old DUP soldiers? It could simply be because Augustine was involved.” 

Dad opened his mouth to say something else when Aunt Sia cleared her throat loudly and pointedly, looking at Dad. “Delsin, I think you should go talk to Brent.” 

Dad blinked. “But—“ 

“Just a small talk, then we’ll finish what we came here for.” Aunt Sia turned to Dr. Sims. “Is there anything else we need to do for Jean? She still has some stitches, do they need to be removed?”

Dr. Sims looked confused and yet thankful for the topic change. “Yeah I-I want to get a general check up on her, but we’d need a more qualified doctor.” 

“Alright, then why don’t you go see who you can find while Delsin talks to Brent?” Aunt Sia asked the men, looking at them expectantly. 

They muttered some sort of agreement as Aunt Sia herded around their attention, the two eventually leaving me alone in the room with her. She stepped up to the edge of the exam table I was sitting on, right between my legs, and moved to cup my face, her expression solemn. “Oh Jean,” she murmured, “I’m sorry.” 

She pulled me into a hug and it was like everything snapped back to my center like a rubber band ball; I was no longer witnessing this from the outside, but fully trapped within the body betraying me, the ache in my back reminding me of the diagnosis. “I’m scared,” I admitted to her, voice cracking. 

“I know,” she replied almost immediately. “This has to be so scary for you. But you heard how quick your father was to begin trying to think of solutions,” she pulled away to look at me. She was right: Dad was always the problem solver. I wasn’t sure if this was something he could fix, though. “We’ll take this a day at a time, but you won’t be alone.”

Want more of Dr. Hutch? Check out Feth’s inFAMOUS: Sparks!

Set 7 years after the good karma ending of inFAMOUS: Second Son, join friends new and old as they navigate what it really means to be a part of the Second Age.

A perfect blend of OC and OG, Feth knows all things inFAMOUS like the back of her hand—for good reason ;). I’m a sucker for a good after story, for the butterfly effect of every choice made in canon to change something in their future, and Feth captures that perfect (and realistic) after. Rosa is one of many amazing new friends the original trio make as they take on foes old and new.

[popponn]

i do not know where this going but im omw fulfilling my dream: sae angst.

[rainyyday-box]

Aren’t you an interesting thing? You look like that loud, unbearable, green playgrounder.. but… not. You are FAR more bluer and seem to have a completely different outfit… what.. are you?

oh heyyy!! ive seen you around before! you seem very uhm. scary. i would say.

and to answer your question iiii am A Rainbox. hi :]

[mackmp3]

do you have a favourite flower?

i do! it's lavender - i like how it smells & how it dries & purple is a great colour & also its kinda a wlw symbol which i like too hehe. there used to be some growing in my backyard years ago i should really plant some more i love it so much. and it's good for bees!!

[ilaliya]

@graviconscientia

advoca! i would love to get manicures with you sometime :)

[avernine]

What to do when It has gotten through your defences: please find our info-brochure on Our Website for helpful hints on Keeping It Out the best way to prevent it from Getting Through, is to Fortify your Defences

Would you like to be redirected to the virtual Fortification Helpline?

You have said "nauUAGFHG"

is that right?

you have said "no"

Would you like to be redirected to an evacuation specialist for low-risk areas?

you have said "PLEASE GOD IT'S HERE IT GOT HER SHE'S GONE PLEASE SOMEONE ANYONE"

I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that

You have said "

-

no"

You are being redirected to one of our emergency advisors Please note, the line is very busy

the average wait time for out emergency advisors yesterday was 20 minutes

your call is very important to us

On average, when you have reached our emergency team, your Process takes up to twelve hours

more than 50% of call which reach our emergency team aren't actually emergencies - the bio sign scanners on the client side of the phone detect 0% vitality in 60% of cases

we ask you not to leave your phone while on hold, our emergency team is very busy trying to help you and other survivors

~Mr Brightside by The Killers starts playing-

Thank you for waiting

Just so you know, there is a lot of information on our website about Keeping it Out

Please continue to Hold

[sleepy-benadryl-guy]

I am a high school student, today I went to a Walgreens and bought some stuff and left. On the way out I felt a rock in my shoe so I sat on the side walk to get it out. To be clear I was wearing mismatched shoes, a beanie, pajama pants and a sweater, (this is important.) I got my shoe back on and this woman comes up to me, shoves a five dollar bill into my hand, and told me “Life will get better, I promise.” And then left before I could even say anything in return.

…

SHE THOUGHT I WAS HOMELESS.

[thedeadthree]

back in your inbox again sorry lovely but 🖊🖊🖊 + illyria PEAS i rlly love her name 👁

HII AJ DEAR you are always more than welcome to pop into my inbox <3 WAHH ty ty her story, name and concept and design and everything of her means the world to mee!!!! ty ty for the ask!

SEND ME A 🖊 + I'LL GUSH ABOUT MY OCS

🖊 - oh the daughter of destiny my dear girl. her blood can be traced back to the time of the great empire of the dawn, as she is the descendant of the bloodstone emperor. the one who in belief was the bringer of the long night. so not absolutely not unas mother (and iovannas mother had foretold of her as well hehe <3) had seen of the birth of the child of prophecy, the eye of blood and the dragon of death, alluding to of course her heterochromia with one eye being a scarlet red matching her dragon ahzidal’s. And ahzidal having a dragons breath that was not of fire.... but a death miasma hence one of his names being the soulsiphon? her birth marked the summoning of the long winter, the death of the dragons.. and her and her descendants bearing the eye of blood will bring either salvation or ruin when the long night arrives.

🖊 - her mother iseul was the descendant of a scarlet emperor of the golden empire, who in the time of the valyrian freehold married a woman of an unknown house (that gives me IDEAS hehe <3 more ocs <3) and this is likely where illy had the natural inclination to be a dragonrider. her mom thwarted court life as long as possible taking to the seas under an assumed identity, which is where she would meet valarr. in seeing a prophecy, the same una and iovannas mothers foresaw, but with a sense it would be him to be the harbringer the father of this daughter of destiny. he uh..... annulled his marriage and left his wife and three children with a fourth on the way to fulfill the prophetic vision. for power or for reverence of prophecy or both who can say. after illy was born on lys, iseul sailed on her ship to vilemyr to the tower of myrwatch. the isle and seat of house ilmestys to hold a wedding for them (they had a wedding in lys but wished for one in westeros as well). UNFOORTUNATELY and much so, assassins attack the ship and she is fatally wounded. the ship is stranded outside of asshai by the shadow, and with her last breath she leaves the girl by the shore. illyria is found by nurellia and keeps a watchful eye on the girl until her mothers sworn protector, irus of norvos, finds the girl as this was her mothers dying wish. illy from there to age four would reside by the shadow. and strangely enough, not a soul bothered the girl! she would be found by irus at the side of her dragon ahzidal who would keep a watchful eye when the girl ventured into the corpse city. and that is how illy's origins began!

🖊 - following her harrowing-ish childhood, she was brought to vilemyr where she would be raised by irus and his wife (and valarr's older sister) vergelle. valarr was not to be revealed as the illy's dad for reasons reserved to be known by valarr alone ig nsakjns. and she was also brought to kings landing when vergelle was requested to teach the princess helaena how to understand dragon dreams (as she and her niece urgelle are both dragon dreamers!). she was childhood friends with aemond! illyria would leave westeros again at age six on the back of ahzidal. it is presumed that she sought out the three eyed raven if there was a three eyed raven that did exist in this time. when she returned to westeros in 129 ac she expected aemond to not remember her at all, and was surprised to learn he never did and in fact asked irus of her all the time when he and vergelle visited. they have been inseparable since. blah blah red string of fate blah blah twin flames and setting the world on fire for each other etc etc <3

[icedflora]

"A very happy holiday!" Camilla handed the icy maid a blue cashmere scarf. "I realize you may not need one but I thought you would enjoy it regardless. Even if you don't wear it you could use it as a table runner or something."

"Lady Camilla!" Flora takes the gift with a stunned expression, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. The material is so soft and delicate in her hands, and the fact that one of her former charges is even giving her a gift, to begin with, has Flora's throat tightening and grey eyes stinging with the threat of tears. She quickly swallows it all back and smiles brightly at Camilla. "I will treasure it, Lady Camilla. I couldn't possibly imagine using it for anything besides its intended purpose, and it will keep me nice and warm, especially if I am to go visit home again. The ice tribe is... well, you know how it is." She chuckles and immediately wraps the scarf around her neck, then curtsies politely. "I apologize for not having anything in return for you, but please, let us get tea together soon. We ought to catch up, and it would delight me to have your company."

[hoshigray]

𝐂𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐓𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | s. gojō + s. ryōmen

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Three powerful empires, two childhood companions, and one you. What is supposed to be a peaceful alliance is slowly turning into a rocky relationship between royal friends...Is there any way you can save it?

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Gojo + true form! Sukuna x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - royal-like + fantasy AU! - porn with plot - Gojo + reader is age 28 + Sukuna is older; mid-30s - mutual pining + confessions - size differences - threesome - double penetration; anal & vaginal - virginity loss - fingering (f! receiving) - back-to-chest + cowgirl dp positions - clitoral play - cerfix-fucking - overstimulation - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up, or get tf up) - pet names (baby, cutie, dove, human, little one, pet, sweetie) - marriage proposals - cameos: Utahime and Miwa - Gojo and Sukuna can't stand each other, obvi - humor + drama - mention of drool, blood, spit and tears - will be proofread later.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 15.4k words (BRUH, i hate it here.)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: aight, after 10 whole months, it's FINALLY dropped! this took foreverrrr, ughhhh. anyways, sorry for the long wait, hope you enjoy this one, and thanks again for 11.2k starlings, ilysmmm!! ☆☆

“…”

“—y Lady…My Lady!”

“Huh?” You blink and face the door where the voice is coming from. “Oh, I’m sorry, Utahime. You can come in.”

“Jeez, I was knocking for a whole minute.” Your lady-in-waiting, Utahime, closes the door behind her when entering your chambers, walking up to where you were sitting by the mirror. “And I thought I told you to refer to me by my last name, my Lady.”

You smile at the reflection of the other coming behind you, kneeling and readying the iron basin filled with warm water and rose petals. Her hand and the washcloth swish the surface for the floral scents to enter your nostrils. “Well, we’ve been friends for how long? I’ve referred to you by your first name for all my life, even before you became my handmaiden.”

“Hmph, even then,” Utahime scoffs before taking your feet and dipping them in the warm water. “You don’t see me dare call the sole, precious child of this empire’s greatest warrior by their given name.”

“No, but I always tell you I don’t mind. Besides, you usually do it when we’re alone, and that’s enough for me.”

“If that’s what makes my Lady hap—“

“It does.” You look at her with a pleasant aura, and the dark-haired one snickers before straining the washcloth. 

“As you wish…Y/n.” You puff your chest with satisfaction; however, your handmaiden isn’t done talking, “But I know the matter of my name isn’t something that’s having you lost in your thoughts.” Her observation takes you slightly aback, and her brown orbs peer up to capture your attention. “Would you like to tell me what’s corrupting your mind?”

With a heavy sigh, your back touches the chair as you slouch. Your eyes glance to the open window as the blinds drift gently with the calm wind. The swaying motions of the curtains almost convince your stress to wither away along with the quietness. Almost.

“Utahime,” you begin with her name, still facing the window. “…What do you think about Lord Satoru Gojo?”

“Tch,” you didn’t have to turn to know that the woman had the most disgusted expression, the click of her teeth was telling. “What is there to think?”

“Hehe, well, we’ve known each other since we could walk—“

“Yeah, and — pardon me, my Lady — but that bastard is such a nuisance, even if he just became the crowned heir of the Gojo bloodline and the holder of the Six Eyes.” The dark-haired woman scrubs your feet with vigor, but you don’t say anything, containing your laughter. “That man–ugh! Every time he visits the palace, he will never stop teasing me for deciding to leave my family and become your lady-in-waiting. Who does he think he is!”

The laugh you try to hinder seeps out in hushed giggles. “Well—ahem—what about Lord Ryomen?”

Utagime stops her hand and washcloth between your toes, her face in your direction. Both brows trenched with a thin line of her mouth. “……As of recent…Scary–no, intimidating would be an understatement...my Lady, perhaps the visit and stay of the two lords is what have you down?”

Another heavy sigh, “I guess that would be the case…”

You reside in the founding empire of the great continent. In the ancient past, it is said that the Great Saint Tengen came from the heavens and blessed this world with miracles, living in the country that you’re standing in right now. It was said that Tengen was the benevolent child of Gods and the Parent of Beings who graced everyone – both human and non – with compassion, kindness, and love through their sorcery. When they disappeared, the world fell into a divide, their people sticking amongst themselves while following the teachings and words of Saint Tengen.

As the centuries came following this tale, the countries of this world have maintained a relatively peaceful union. However, the main continent – your continent – is home to three major empires: the North, the East, and the West. As mentioned before, you live in the founding Western nation, also known as the homeland of Tengen. 

You are a royal of this land and the sole heir to the throne right after your father, a mighty war soldier and sorcerer respected by his people and allies. As the crowned king of the Western capital, your father has done his job in using his strong leadership to maintain a functional structure for the people, using his wisdom to tread on matters with a tranquil mind, and making decisions that would not only benefit his own people but also his allies. Sometimes, you forget that such a great man could be your father. Yet his undying love for you, his sole child and princess, proves how lucky you are.

In the Northern Lands above are known as the land of Sorcery. Your father may be a powerful sorcerer, but the empire he rules does not harbor the majority of the population who practice sorcery (or lack thereof). That would go to the snowy Northern Empire, a land where many of Tengen’s scholars and practitioners have come from and implemented their teachings. The current head of this nation is bestowed to the affluent House Gojo, who recently crowned their heir after the death of its late king. Satoru Gojo, the first royal after a century gifted with two of the most intense abilities made by Saint Tengen – the Six Eyes and Limitless – sits on the Northern throne. And is also a dear family friend.

To the East lies a country mostly comprised of harsh deserts and dangerous forests, filled with creatures that aren’t of the human imagination. Once referred to as the land of “Tengen’s True Children,” the eastern empire is known worldwide as the Demon Country. Creatures reside in this part, beings that can easily overpower the average human – or worse, kill. They are ruled by the King of Demons, Sukuna Ryomen. As the scariest, cold-hearted, and violent beast of the empire, Sukuna is regarded as Tengen’s “Fallen Star,” a soul that embodies the precise opposite nature of the saint. And yet, this brutal master is also a cherished companion in the company of you and your father.

“What about their visits seems to make you upset?” Utahime lifts the bottom of your nightgown to scrub further up, the warm, damp towel scraping the skin of your left femur. 

“I don’t know…I suppose it’s because things are different than a decade and a half ago.” It was one way of speaking the truth.

“Why, of course, things would be different now. You expect I’d be looking after a tiny heir all my life?” She giggles. “Although, that would be quite nice.”

“Oh, to be young forever would be a treat, wouldn’t it?” You add on to her humor. “Yet, that’s not what I meant. It’s been so long since the three of us been in this palace together – let alone in any space together. The War of the Blood and Magic has been ongoing for years now. Whenever my father wishes to speak with them about an issue, one must be here while the other is in their respective territory.“ 

“Mmm, I have observed that…But still, even with this war going on, it shouldn’t negate the fact that you three have been friends for so long. I still remember the day young Gojo came to the garden where you and I were making flower crowns.“

You smile at the memory. “I remember how upset you were when he grabbed my hand one day and took us to his guest room to show his Limitless.”

You try your hardest to keep in your laughter when she glares up at you – not at you, but at the recollection instead. “That fool, even as a child, knows nothing of boundaries. He was a bright boy — still is, I’ll give him that. But my Gods, the way he would do everything in his power to impress you was so cocky of a young lord, especially in the presence of the next heir to the continent. The nerve of him…And then! The time he had the nerve to question me when I told you I wanted to be your handmaiden. That little blue-eyed weasel said, ‘You? The daughter of a mediocre house, as the princess’ personal maid? You should try and aim lower or marry someone who’d tolerate your un-ladylike attitude.’ I was too stunned to speak…I should’ve choked his ass out!” 

“—Pfffthahaha, stop, you’re scrubbing too hard!” You halt your lady-in-waiting with stiffened giggles, the poor woman sighing for displaying such aggression unbefitting for her title. “You could never stand him, and to think I thought you had a crush on him.” 

“Please, my Lady, never say that aloud, or else my father would try to make my worst nightmare become reality.” She shakes her head, putting your left leg into the basin and switching to the right. 

“And the day I introduced you as my maid to him, you had the smugest smirk that couldn’t be wiped off that night.”

“You’re goddamn right, my Lady!” That coarse remark had the both of you in a fit of cackles, water damn near splashing out as you wiggle your legs. “Ahhhh, but those were the days. I believe Lord Ryomen came into the picture after that. I remember the first day your father accepted the young demon king’s wish to seek an audience; he was a bit shorter than his current eight-foot-tall stature. Four arms were tiny like a teenager, and his,” she waves a hand up and down over the left side of her face. “This was distinguishable.”

You hum along with the description of the once young teenage demon king. “His human mother died during childbirth, and his father a demon who was exorcised for impregnating the poor woman. He was the first hybrid sorcerer of his time to utilize sorcery with the dark techniques of demon arts, becoming the most powerful and making a name for himself in the Eastern empire. He was alongside my father during the Great Demon War, using his powers to take down opposing cursed forces from outside nations. The two earned each other’s respect – more on my father’s part.”

“That, he was…truly a hard one to read, outside of always looking like he’d cut something out of boredom. I worried for the day he’d catch sight of me looking at him the wrong way and slice my throat,” the mere thought of the deadly being’s scowl was enough to send goosebumps up Utahime’s way. “Even the spars he had with your father and Gojo, I’m amazed to see this palace still standing in one piece.”

“Hehe, imagine how I felt when he’d catch me watching and then pull me aside to train with him — not asking, demanding that he teaches me how to wield a weapon.”

“Ohhh, my Lady, my nerves were never calm whenever he instructed you. Fearing for your life was my biggest sport. He couldn’t stand the fact that the sole heir of the greatest warrior didn’t have the drive to wield and charge.” She places your other leg down, rinsing the washcloth with more water before asking for your right arm. “It’s not like your father ever dared to entertain the thought of you entering battle anyway! That man, truly a scary thing…”

You throw your head back, resting it on the rail of the chair. “For my eighteenth year, he gifted me my own sword — handmade and light for my hands.”

“Men.” Utahime shakes her head once again. “Yet, despite how odd he and Gojo are, they seemed at ease whenever you were around. Whether it be visits from them to discuss with the King or attending events here at the palace, those two acted a lot more…calm.” 

Her observations stuck with you, closing your eyes to think more. “I only wonder if we could revert to those days when we were close. Unfortunately, with this current war between the two, this vision is impossible to imagine….”

You and the two lords have been friends for years – decades, even. And you were no fool; it was apparent that this relationship would dwell into something less familiar once the two become distant. And the war between the two empires proves this statement true…

It was your twenty-fourth year when you heard the news of the War of Blood and Magic. A year prior, an incident in the northern empire occurred where a sorcerer and his company were butchered by invading demons. Enraged, many men would go down to the demon continent to pillage and exorcise demon villages and towns as a form of justice. However, it only sparked the increasing tension between the factions into a conflict past the phase of talk and civilized words. 

Taking matters into his own hands, Sukuna found the men responsible for the rampage and had their bodies sliced within seconds, sending their bloody, severed heads back to the North as his declaration of war. In the coming years after that, there was nothing but ongoing bloodshed between the two; every battle and atrocity shared with your father made you squeamish – not just because of the brutality, but also the loss of Sukuna and Gojo’s relationship with every passing day.  

It made you feel sick — powerless in wanting the two to remember their merciful ways and talk like men. But you knew that was child's play — the time for miracles and fairy tales vanished with Tengen. And now, as the fourth year of this constant battle between humans and demons of this continent shows no signs of stopping, your worrying nature is on edge more than ever. 

“It may seem impossible to imagine, but it doesn’t mean it’s not worth the execution,” Utahime’s voice rings you back to the present, alternating to your left arm to wipe before dismissing herself from the night. “I’m sure your father believes that as well; otherwise, he wouldn’t have invited the two here for the first time in four years. I think he and all the people of this empire grow worrisome for the fate of this continent if all that’ll be left is a clash between two factions.”

“That may be true,” yet your tone was somber. “But if he can’t convince his two trusted allies to cease this fight, then I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do but see who comes out victorious. And I’d hate to see one stand and the other down in a pool of their blood…”

Utahime hums and lets the silence take over for a few seconds. And then she speaks again, “….Maybe, if not your father, then you should be the one to bring the two together.”  

Me? “Me?”

“Yes, my Lady. You may be the princess of the greatest warrior, but you are also the dear friend of his allies. Your word means law to them — they trust your input when asked and see you as a perfect successor in line.”  

“But that’s just based on titles and old conversations that don’t hold up to the now…Out of the three of us, I was the one who stayed put in this castle while the others played dirty, severing limbs and creating craters on this sacred continent. We are not children anymore, yet I feel like the one who’s still a naive babe with hands clean.” 

“Now that is not true, my Lady!” Fierce brown eyes bore to you. “Just because you don’t have blood on your hands doesn’t make you unfit as a leader. You are the sole child of the King of the Western Empire, the land that Tengen once slept and walked on. That makes you the one next in line after your father.”

“That is my stated birthright—“

“And so!” You held your tongue; she was not done yet. “You have proven that birthright true from what you’ve done so far. I can count on my hands and toes all the times your father came to you for advice on a matter that didn’t sit right with him, knowing that your wisdom and compassion aid your judgment. And let’s not forget how you’ve kept a neutral stance on this issue thus far, knowing it’s the best and safest option for your father and his people. You are his child, after all…What I’m saying is that people change. And that goes the same for you; you’ve become a face I can trust and depend on, and I’m glad to have the right to watch over you until you see fit.” 

You knew she meant every word, so you kept silent for her to finish.

“So, I say this with all the genuineness in my heart. I believe you can smack some sense up those two’s minds. You are the princess, but you are a friend above all else. Lord Gojo had just arrived today, leaving Lord Ryomen on his way in three days' time. Express to them how you feel, that you wish for nothing but an end to this bloodshed and to restore whatever’s left to rebuild their past alliance.”

There was nothing wrong with her words; everything was well-spoken with a perspicuous style and valid points. She was your closest friend – no one knew you better than she did. So, there’s no reason to try and find whatever flawed construct that was in her argument. 

Finally, after she was done dapping your arm with the washcloth and drying your feet after taking them out of the metal basin, you smiled. “Perhaps you’re right.”

“Of course, I’m right; I’m your best friend!” Utahime stands with a puffed chest filled with pride, picking up the basin by the handles. “And as the right one, I reckon you should turn in for the night. Leave this matter for tomorrow so the solution you’re looking for will be easier to find.”

“Mmm, your advice is well-received like always.” You stand from the chair, stretching your limbs. When she approaches your door, you bid your handmaiden farewell for the night, “See you in the morning, Utahime.” 

With a wink, she parts before shutting the door, “Sleep well and tight, my Lady.”

The warm presence of your friend is missed now that you’re alone in your room. The candles around your chambers exhibit a warm glow that should make you feel safe, but that wasn’t the case today. Even after your night routine, the cold still resided in your skin. You sigh again through your nostrils; the invisible weight on your shoulders makes it impossible to lift them.

You turn back to your mirror – your reflection brings up the conversation with your best friend minutes ago. Examining your features, placing your hand on your cheek to sense your skin, alone with your thoughts. Did I really change that much? Your face tilts to the side, but the different angle doesn’t seem to help give a proper answer. Hmm…Perhaps it’s something I’m not supposed to see. 

With a yawn, you stand straight again, deciding to take up Utahime’s advice and retire for the night. You face your queen-sized bed, anticipating your figure sinking into the soft, comfortable mattress. 

What you didn’t anticipate was releasing a big gasp when turning to your bedding, your body going rigid, and your blood stopping circulation. 

“Hey.”

Something was sitting on your bed. No, someone was on your bed. And judging by the deep, guttural timbre of their voice, you are familiar with this person. 

You turned to your left once you heard a word. A figure was coming into the lighted room from the dark of the balcony – a giant, no, ginormous figure. Based on the height, he was inches from touching the entrance frame, way taller than any royal you’ve ever met — or, at least, any human royal you’ve ever seen.  

The body was broad and could engulf you even from ten steps away. Four burly arms protrude from the torso, and black nails that resemble claws match the black tattoos painted on his shoulders, biceps and triceps, wrists, back, and chest. The markings also reside on the right of his face that’s morphed with another, which holds four red eyes instead of two, along with earrings that stretch his big earlobes. Aside from his bloody orbs, one thing that contrasts his appearance is the rusty salmon color of his hair. And that was the first thing you saw — the first thing that had your mind recollect him.

“Lord Ryomen.” His name didn’t feel proper to say. It’s been almost a year since you last saw him, but he was still the same brutal man you’ve heard about all this time…yet a companion of yours nonetheless. “Father told me you would be here in two days. How did you—“

“You know I’m not one to wait.” He crossed his lower arms, the upper ones covered by a black robe that matched the black hakama pants he wore. “Especially when it comes to visiting this place.”

“And of Uraume?” The mention of the demon king’s trusted adviser quirks his brow. “Is it okay to leave them alone without you to watch over?”

“You think I’m weak on my own?”

“N–No, of course not!” You were quick to refute — you had to be when it came to him. “It’s just that I would feel bad; they’d worry about where you are.”

“And here you are worrying about them worrying about me. Hmph, humans,” he scoffs, and the mouth on his stomach grins. “Uraume knows to look after the ship when I’m gone or be my eyes when I’m not around. I’m not a child that needs protecting.”

You bow to him. “Of course you aren’t, my Lord. Forgive me for having you think as such.”

He hums, tilting his head while examining you. “Good. Lift your head.” You do as you’re told, watching him take a few steps closer to you. “It’s cold; why is your fire not set?”

You look at what he’s referring to, seeing that your fireplace harbored no flame. “I told my maids that I would be fine tonight without it, the heavy blankets will do—“

Your eyes travel back to Sukuna, only to see he isn’t where he stood. He vanished, nowhere in your room to be found. You turned behind, but he wasn’t there either. But once you heard heavy feet thunder on your floor again, you spun around to see the beast carrying four logs, one in each hand. You were marveled; you only heard talk of his speed, now it was a little scary seeing the real deal.

Sukuna bends down in front of your fireplace, setting the logs down perfectly. “Ignoring the cold’s existence is an ignorant game. A princess should be warm during this time of night.” Once the logs are set, he makes a sign with his upper right hand, bringing his thumb and forefinger together to his mouth. He blows, and a string of fire spits out to the logs. The sound of crackling bark from the flames confirms his work. “You are not me; you should fear the cold.”

You nod to his lesson. “Thank you, Lord Ryomen.” 

“There’s no one here. You have the right to refer to me by my first name.” Sukuna straightens himself up. The light from the fire has his face aglow, and the crimson in his eyes flicker while they hook onto you.

You don’t know why — maybe it was because of the instant heat touching your neck instead of the sudden allurement you’ve noted from the demon king. Regardless, you avert your gaze downward. “Yes, Lord Sukuna.”

“Hmm.” He croons, walking towards you to prompt your chin up with a hand. Your eyes widen at his action; this is the first time in forever since he’s laid a hand on you. Talks of those he touches die shortly after spark in your mind. “You still have the sword.”

It wasn’t a question – an observation. He noticed the weapon lodged above the fireplace, like a memento meant to be honored rather than used. You smile, “Yes, I make sure it’s nice and clean from dust.” 

Sukuna scoffs. “I give you a present, and you treat it like a trophy.” 

“It would be wise to treat a gift from the demon king like a treasure. It wouldn’t sit right with me knowing I used or damaged a present given to me by someone I care about.” 

He tilted his head again. “And when I give a weapon to someone I wish to protect,” The word caught you off guard. Protect? “I expect them to use it as it’s intended. I will allow it this time, but I won’t be too forgiving the second. Understood?”

You heard him, but your mind was still wrapped around the word. Protect? Lord Sukuna wants to protect me? What for?? You didn’t mean to say it aloud; it just slipped. “Protect?”

His mood shifts into neutral. A subtle softness is displayed in that inhuman structure of a face — or maybe you imagined it because of the late hour. Your breath hitches when you feel his lower hands pull and wrap around your right hand; the way your palm dwarfs in his hold is appalling. And then he kneels. Sukuna, the eight-foot-tall demon king, kneeling before you. This was a bizarre night, candidly. 

“Princess,” he starts with your name. It was the perfect method as he fully has your undivided attention. “You know why the King has wished to see me despite what’s occurring outside these chambers. He believes there is still room to talk, and I believe he's wasting his time because I'm close to setting the entire Northern front ablaze and nailing this score for good.” 

You knew he meant that, and it scared you because if he really could, he would. He actually possesses the mentality and the drive to do it. And yet, all three parts of the continent continue to stand. Why?

“But that would result in more problems for me. I’d have the entire world after my head for terrorism. All the leaders will not rest until I’m gone — your father would have to come put me down. And I would kill him, all of them.” His eyes were on you, dead serious. “…But that would make you upset, and it pisses me off that you'd hate me for my drive for survival.” 

“My Lord,” it was your turn to speak. “I wouldn’t hate you. Being upset would be justified. But when it comes to war, survival is the paramount destination. I only wish to avoid such significant losses – both for the people of our nations and the people I hold dear.” 

“Mmm.” He took your words. There’s no need to say anything, knowing Sukuna heard your piece is good enough. “I can see where you stand in this, stubborn and naive like your father. So, I come to you with a proposition. Something I need for you to listen before I consider seizing this battle.”

The way he spoke had you on edge, truthfully. Yet, if he’s coming to you in the middle of the night to hear your piece, who are you as a friend to push him aside? You give him a nod, “Yes, my Lord?” 

“Princess, I want to—“ he stops mid-sentence, his pink-slitted brow suddenly drew up before it furrowed at the next second. He lets go of your hand in a hurry, standing up in a flash. It had you squeak. “He’s here.”

The sudden change in tone had you blink up at the giant, startled. “Wh–Who?”

“….No, they will not be seeing you. The hour is late; they are heading for bed!”

“Oh, c’mon Utahime — an hour, give me one hour!”

“Don’t you DARE open that door—HEY!” 

You and Sukuna’s eyes dart to your chamber door, which opens with an abrupt vigor as if it was kicked open — it was kicked. The foot that was prominent at the front goes down and swings in a figure that brightens the area. Baggy white paints contrast with a black dress shirt mixed with white, intricate, and alluring designs. Subtle blue patterns map around the black collar and cuffs, dancing down the white material behind gold buttons. It’s covered by an ocean-blue shawl that drapes the figure’s left side. But the most significant detail that gave away who the person was – outside of their voice alone – was the snow-shite hair that decorated the top of his head. 

Your wide eyes take in the person before you, and a dainty smile comes to your lips when you say his name. Unlike Sukuna, who sucks his teeth with a deep scowl. “Lord Gojo, it’s—“

“PRINCESS~~!” Chipper as ever, Gojo greets you with a happy tune that is so familiar to the ears. His sky-blue eyes gleam and narrow whenever he’s in your presence, just like he’d do during your childhood years. “Glad to see that I’ll be able to see your beautiful face tonight, after all. And I thought I told you to call me by my first name, like when we were kids!”

His jest has you giggle, “And I thought I’d told you from the last visit to knock on my door before entering. You have my poor handmaiden chasing after you at this hour.” 

“I second that notion wholeheartedly, my Lady.” Utahime comes into view, approaching from Gojo’s shadow. If looks could kill, she’d stab Gojo’s throat with dual-wielding daggers. Not that the white-haired man was paying her glare any mind. She sighs heavily before bowing to you, “My apologies, my Lady. Lord Gojo caught me leaving the stairs towards your hall, figuring he’d come to speak a word with—Holy Tengen!” Your lady-in-waiting gasps when she lifts her head to see that you aren’t alone in the first place. “L-Lord Ryomen!? F-F-Forgive me for not noticing your grace before.” She quickly returns her head for a bow, hoping the trusty, short right-hand retainer and advisor, Uraume, wasn’t here to lecture her. 

But thankfully to her anxious stars, the demon king grunts, “You’ve been forgiven, human. I came here not too long ago to discuss matters with the heir.” His red eyes leave the bowing woman to look at Gojo, whose lighthearted cadence is stilled. “Alone.” The final word was all for the white-haired lord’s watch to switch to a silent, menacing tone, shaded by his bangs but perfectly seen by Sukuna. 

“Yes, my Lord, I shall leave you two to yourselves then,” Utahime replies to the salmon-haired creature, lifting her upper body ready for dismissal. But she then grabs for Gojo’s arm and tugs. “That includes you as well, Lord Gojo.” 

“Ehhhh, me? What about the giant freak across from me?” Gojo questions the woman who pulls him to the doorway. “I also have things to discuss with the princess I’ve expressed earlier for when I have the time, which is now. At least I made my appointment known. Unlike him, who came into their quarters unannounced.” 

“And here you are, barging into their room!” she almost popped a vein; you worry for the poor woman dragging the tall figure out of your room. “Kicking their door and making yourself known doesn’t modify the definition of being unannounced. Come back tomorrow – I’m sure my Lady will be available to listen to your quarrels then.” 

It was now that you finally decided to interject. “It’s all right, Utahime. Sleep still evades me for me to rest.” You look to Sukuna, his gaze already on your figure, and then to Gojo, who awaits your assertion. “…I will listen to both Lords and have them dismissed before I retire for the night. You may let Lord Gojo go now and get sleep yourself.” 

Utahime gives you a concerned look, yet she silently lets go of the man when you give her a tiny nod. “As you wish. Have a good night, my princess. Lord Sukuna. Gojo.” She slams the door at the last name she says, her stomping footsteps and grumbling curses fading into the night. 

And now here you were, alone in your room, with the two lords of two superpower empires – two childhood friends. Nevertheless, it’s back. The suffocating tension you’ve mentioned before returns and drapes over the three of you that the word “friend” feels teeny within it. You can’t lie to yourself; you’re weary to have either of them in your chambers, let alone be in the same space as you. You knew there would be a day when the two would come together; however, you were far from being prepared for said event. 

Then again, it’s better now than never, right? You three used to be the best of friends – close companions that you could depend on and trust. Close companions that you desperately wish to continue trusting and having an unbreakable bond with. If not for you, then for your father’s and respective empires’ sake. So, with a deep breath, you exhale and think of how to go about this predicament. Be the heir that your father raised you to be.

“So,” You turn to Gojo to start with. “Lord Gojo—“

“Oh, c’mooon, what did I say about using my last name?” Gojo flashes a quick smile at you. “We’re friends, no? It’s not fair you refer to Maiden Iori by her first name; you should know mine like the back of your hand!”

His little pester does help swade a bit of stress off your shoulders. “My apologies, Satoru. It’s just that I must be respectful to my royals, even if we are long-time friends.”

The white-haired man chuckles, taking steps to be closer to you. “Even so, I want my princess to call me by my name, for you are the one I trust and hold dear the most. And I don’t want our familiarity to be tarnished by titles.” 

“…If that’s what will make you happy, Satoru.” The address to the northern prince made you avert your gaze to the ground, and your cheeks dial in warmth. Who knew that he thought so deeply about a little gesture? And then there’s what he referred to you as—

“Your princess?” Sukuna’s voice snaps you back to the present situation: you and Gojo are not the only ones in your room.  

Gojo takes his eyes off you and places them on the giant behind your shape. He taunts, “Yes, my princess, as they are the fair heir of this great empire who will rule after their great father. I’d say they are as much my princess to me as the other Lords and Maidens. But I’d be lying since I see them as more than that.”

Sukuna’s quadruple eyes darken as they narrow at the man before him. “Every time I see your scrawny self, you prove you’re the biggest fool than all the other senile jokes of Lords I’ve ever dealt with.” Two steps is all he takes to be right behind you. You can practically feel his shadow on you. “The person before us is indeed a royal above many – above you. So, I find it amusing that you would be dumb enough to emphasize such a ludicrous claim. You fail to know your place when in their presence. And in mine.”

Oh, that ticked something inside Gojo. Because the prince was no longer smiling, his attention was wholly on Sukuna. Many wouldn’t dare to glower at the giant creature the way Gojo was — let alone look at him. “Hah, you sure know how to make unfunny jokes, Sukuna. Because I’d rather eat demon shit than have you think for a moment that you are above me.”

“Hmph, I’m surprised your childish behavior has gotten you this far,” you can see from the shadow on the floor that Sukuna folds his lower arms. “Don’t think that you’ll be lucky with me.”

“Oh, believe me, my childish manner has gotten its fair share of tongue lashings and trouble, but I’ve been able to talk my ass out of shit ever since I was a kid. But I guess talk is too cheap for an oversized brute like you, huh?”

“Very. I’m a being of action—“

“Action? Or destruction?” The light blue of Gojo’s eyes shifts to that of a deep, cold shade under his bangs, with no sign of backing down. “Because from all I’ve heard about you, everything can crumble beneath you with just a swipe of the fingers. Outside of your lands, who’s to say you’re worthy of ruling when your methods and policy are more forbidding than mine? Or better yet, who gave you the gall to think that such a monster like you has a right to even be amongst civil people like me and the princess? Hell, the fact that you snuck in their room as you please sickens me to the core.”

“I can say the same for you, Satoru Gojo. Your entire occupancy does worse than bore me. Standing here with the man governing the family who’s killed many of my kin and demons fills me with inextinguishable anger. You have no idea how much excitement I’ll have for the day I cut that head of yours clean off, but because of my business with the princess, your death will be pending.” 

“Not if my business is taken care of first.”

The demon growls. “Like hell, it will.” 

“My Lords, please!”

The tense atmosphere is relieved by the abruption of your voice, bringing the lords’ quarrel to a standstill to face you. You squeak when their eyes land on you, forcing yourself to turn to the fireplace and deal with the growing storm of anxiousness inside you. 

Gods, I should’ve had Utahime here with me! You curse yourself for being in this situation. Why tonight of all nights must you deal with this? It was as if your lady-in-waiting had this all planned — or worse, your father, having you treat the matter of your allies. You groan internally to your hands, letting your frustration be released.

You twirl back to face the two men before you, a deep inhale before saying, “Lord Satoru, what would you like to discuss with me at this hour?”

“Hah?” The disapproving mood of the demon king had your heart sink to the floor. “I was here first.”

“Yes, you came to my room first tonight. But Gojo was here first at the palace. He told me earlier that he wanted to speak, so I should hear him.” You could only hope your reasoning satisfied the tall being, who puffs his tattooed chest. And Gojo quickly flashed the other a vexatious look at Sukuna before you pivoted to him. “Now, Lord Go—“

“Aht aht!”

“…Lord Satoru,” He beams a big grin. “What do you wish to speak with me?”

“Well, although this is something meant for the two of us,” meant to be a stab to the other person in the room, who couldn’t care less about his presence being unwanted. “But this’ll suffice; it doesn’t hurt to have an audience.” You watch the silver-haired man take your left hand, the rough pad of his thumb rubbing on your knuckles. 

“My Lady,” he looks at you with delicate azure eyes, his gaze so captivating that it locks you in position. “I’ve known you for quite a long time. Before I met you, my life as a royal was barren. Nothing sparked joy in me. The mundane tasks to uphold as the next heir, being pampered and sheltered as the gifted member of the Gojo House. I felt trapped in a mold — a mold that I resented having as my birthright, so much so that I wished to claw my eyes out at the age of five.” 

You could tell he was speaking from the heart, his hands gripping yours tighter.

“But then, three years later, my father took me to meet the King of the western lands; at the time, it sounded like such a chore having to meet all these old, disgusting guys that I had to ‘maintain a good relationship’ with. And then, like the sun peeking through dark clouds, I saw you. I’ve met many royal kids before me, most snobby or kissing up to me for my good graces. Yet, none of them have been as alluring and breathtaking as you have been.” He pauses for a light chuckle. “I can still remember how your sweet voice addressed me when our fathers introduced us together. You stood tight to his leg, but your grace was ever present.”

“Mhmm, and I recall how angry your father was when you didn’t take a knee and instead greeted me with a handshake.” The two of you share a laugh, unaware of the disdained aura of Sukuna right next to you for a moment. “There are many things I hold close to my heart — you and our friendship being part of them.”

“I agree. I mean it when I regard you as one of my greatest treasures. This friendship we’ve had these years – decades, even – has been a blessing that I do not want to take for granted. Even with this war on my shoulders, I wish for it to be put to rest so I can finally have you by my side again. And that’s why…” 

Gojo lifts your hand to his face; the soft feeling of his pillowy lips on your fingers has you holding your breath. Just like Sukuna…

“Princess, merciful child of Tengen’s Blessed Ground, I ask for your hand in marriage.” 

It all took one second — one mere second. 

One second for your world to come to a complete standstill, the cracking of the firewood no longer poking your eardrums and the breeze from the outside no longer grazing your skin. Your body instinctively refuses to move so much as a toe to disrupt your processing.

One second for your thoughts to absolutely vanish. No words of your own occupying your brain, no guesses on where this conversation was going. There was nothing. Nothing except the last seven words Gojo said that replay in your head. Over and over and over again.

One second for you to be in a perfect state of perplexity. Right before Sukuna grabs your free hand and yanks you to his side the next. Three giant hands wrap around you while one grips your wrist tightly. 

He snarls, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Gojo sucks his teeth before straightening yourself. “Ehhhh, is your demon brain screwed on right? You don’t know what a marriage proposal is?” His question struck you more than it did the beast. Huh? A marriage proposal? Marriage!?

The fingers of Sukuna’s upper left-hand grips your shoulder, claw-like nails poking your skin as if to draw blood. “Hmph, the nerve of you humans never fails to disappoint me. Especially you, Satoru Gojo, who remains a thorn in my foot. Must I kill more of your men to keep you at your place as you did to my demonfolk?”

“Khh, don’t act like you ever cared about the lives sacrificed on your behalf. It’s gross.” Gojo takes one step, and Sukuna swiftly lifts his upper right hand at him, his fingers positioned at the same sign when he made flames for your fireplace. Your eyes widen, please, not in my room! Gojo takes a stance for battle. “Acting human doesn’t suit you at all, fuckface.” 

The roar of laughter that the demon bellows out was chilling to hear. The vibrations coursing from his body to yours rocked you to your core. “Hah! Me, human!? There’s a reason I let go of that part of myself a long time ago. It made me weak – held me back from my full potential. You are right, though; it’s beneath me to care for those below me. However, I don’t tolerate those that mess with what’s mine.” 

The word had Gojo’s eyes taper. “Let them go.”

“No. If anything, I should skin you here and now for even laying a finger on them in front of me.” You peered up at Sukuna, your anxiousness refusing to settle down during this high-stakes scenario. “Because any man that dares touch my wedded deserves to be torn and shredded by my hands alone.” 

You couldn’t hide your gasp. It snuck past you – the perfect reaction to what you heard. H–His wedded? Me? Lord Sukuna’s wedded-to-be!? No wonder he was acting like that…!

“Your wedded?” Gojo was just as taken aback as you were. “You’ve got some huge balls to declare that right after bearing witness to me proclaiming my request for their hand.” 

“Tch, bastard, why do you think I was here before you?” Sukuna flashes his big teeth, pride exuding from his form. “Did you honestly think I’d allow the princess to end up with the likes of you? Now, aren’t you too old for fairy tales?” You’re still in shock of this madness. Two marriage proposals within the same hour? Both from your childhood friends who unequivocally despise each other’s existence? Any regular person would feel as if they’re experiencing a whirlwind right now. 

Wait a minute…

“Oh, we’re talking fairy tales, you repugnant jackass.” It’s Gojo’s turn to get a kick out of this. “From what I can tell, the princess is meant to spend the rest of their life in comfort with a handsome human prince who swears to protect them and those they care for. Not a creature whose source of joy comes from killing and mayhem. You? Capable of love? Heh, be real. Not even your own dead mother was able to show you real love for her abomination of a—“

He stopped talking when he felt something warm roll down his cheek, a red fluid streaking to drop from his chin. You see a cut and blood, and a wave of dread hits you like a wall. It was Sukuna’s doing, no doubt. Your best friends were fighting in front of you, in your safe space. Your nerves have long forgotten what it meant to be in a state of calm. 

Please, wait, stop—

“I already told you your death has been postponed, you northern shit,” red eyes darken, Sukuna's tone and aura unveiling a sense of brutality that shadowed your very being. It had you trembling. “But I don’t mind severing your tongue to make a point.”

The skin around the cut on Gojo’s skin begins to morph to find each other, seaming itself back to mint condition with a blue glow. Healing magic fixed his cut and cleared his blood, but the anger boiling inside him was prevalent in those striking eyes. Wanting nothing more than a bleeding head between his hands. “I’d like to see you try, you ugly prune.” 

NO, STOP IT!!

This was all too much for a single night. This whole ordeal was far from your expectations. It was already stressful enough thinking about what would happen when the two lords were in this palace together. Now, in your quarters, you’ve never experienced a more life-and-death crisis having your friends — companions you used to laugh and engage with together — wanting to rip each other’s throats, especially for your hand in marriage. And, Tengen forbid, if you were to accept one’s proposal over the other…that would ignite a war above all wars. The bodies that fall on this mainland would all be in your undoing. The thought enough was too much to bear! 

“I accept both!!”

The hostile complexion of the room vanished into the air in the blink of an eye. The sound of burning logs and dancing flames filled the space like before; the crashing ocean waves could be heard from your balcony. Nature was speaking without noises to interrupt it. It was quiet, too quiet. 

You didn’t know what you just said until the last morphemes left your tongue. You silently remove your figure from Sukuna, covering your mouth in disbelief. And without having to see for yourself, you could tell that the two lords were just as flummoxed from your sudden sentence. What…What did I say just now?

“What did you just say?” As if he could read your mind, Sukuna relays your inner turmoil to be addressed. 

Your heart was beating at an unbearable rate, your ears ringing like they’d soon set off and bleed. The trembles get worse with every second, and wiping your face off this Earth at this exact moment is all you wish for. You were so nervous that you were mere seconds away from the brink of tears. Oh, Tengen, why did I say that? What was I thinking?!? What am I to do? What do I—

“…Express to them how you feel, that you wish for nothing but an end to this bloodshed and to restore whatever’s left to rebuild their past alliance…” 

And then, like a strange flash of an angelic tune, the words of your lady-in-waiting come back to you, instantly calming you down and reminding you who you are. You are the princess of the Western Front, the next heir after your father. This matter was bound to fall onto your lap one way or another — preferably less drastically and excitingly like this.

I am the princess, but their friend above all else…You remove your hands from your face, exhaling a shaky breath before standing tall. “….I accept both marriage proposals of my Lords.”

The men’s bewildered expressions were expected, just like the dismay in their voices. “Both of our—…! Surely you don’t mean that—” Gojo was the first to speak, silver brows screwed with confusion. 

“I do.” A deep breath before you answered him. “I will only accept the proposals of both you and Lord Sukuna.”

The demon took one thunderous step, the vibrations crawling up your bones. “And just why is that?”

You exhale through your nostrils, chewing on your bottom lip. “Understand that I am humbly flattered by your perspectives — it fills me with gladness to know I can be hospitable to my dear friends again…As you both mentioned, I, too, cherish the two of you profoundly, and my trust for you two will never be extinguished. To be asked for my hand by either of you is an honor I’ll forever appreciate….But I cannot choose one over the other.”

“Bullshit,” Sukuna folds his upper arms, the lower resting on his hips. “You can; you just choose not to.”

“No, I care for you both, and choosing one alone would have people hurt. Both between us three and the people of this continent…” You maintain eye contact with both lords while your hands fidget with your nightgown to ease yourself. “A rivalry is happening between the Eastern and Northern fronts; blood’s already been spilled and soaking Tengen’s soil. If I were to choose one proposal, I can’t be guaranteed that this onslaught of violence will cease. Or, would either of you guarantee that you wouldn’t take the life of the other?”

That question had the two royals look at each other briefly, followed by their scowls and groans. Gojo is the next to speak, “What happens between us shouldn’t concern you, my princess.”

“You’re wrong; it concerns me tremendously. It is a concern that’s been eating me alive, watching my allies – my friends – fight each other on the sidelines, refusing to pick a side with my father. Now, you two come here, bend your knees, hold my hands, and ask for my hand, silently requesting my involvement for more bodies to drop like flies under my reign?… No, I would not find rest from this night forward, knowing that more innocent lives plummet from my answer.”

“It wouldn’t be blood on your hands.”

“…But it would be blood that I paint with my very shadow.”

The response sounded foreign to him, yet you stood tall, making sure your heart didn’t falter with your stance. Silence welcomes the three figures again, an old friend that goes well with the tense atmosphere. Two pairs of red observe you, like cerulean orbs that stay on your appearance.

A few seconds go by, and Gojo screws his eyes shut. “So, that’s it, you accept both proposals.”

A curt nod. “Yes, my Lord.”

“Your final decision?”

“Correct.”

The snow-haired man nodded aimlessly, slouched with a large sigh, turned, and headed for your bed to flop face down — like it was his bed. “Haaaaaah, you are your father’s kid, all right,” you could make out his words even with his face in your sheets. “A pacifist heart.”

“Hmph, such a dumbass reason,” Sukuna huffs with absolute annoyance, and you’re amazed he hasn’t already skinned you and Gojo. “You are not a child anymore. You can’t possibly be serious about taking up two husbands for the sake of peace.”

“You’re right: I am no child, for I’ve never been as serious as I am now.” Look at you, sticking up for yourself in the presence of the demon king. Although, you know he can hear the quiver in your voice trying to crawl out. You swallow, “It’s either both of you or nothing at all.”

His left eyes squint as they examine your features, the mouth on his belly gritting its teeth. “Tsk, both or nothing…Meanwhile, you know I can’t be in the same room with him. Not even Tengen could command me to share you with this brat.”

Gojo swifts on the covers to lie on his back. “Finally, something I can agree with the devil himself. He’s right, though; there are many things in my life I would rather not share with anyone — you being the top of my list.”

You take their concerns with patience and a lifted chin. “I understand you both, but if you two can’t let the fog clear and talk with each other, how can I see myself—“

“Let the fog clear?” Sukuna repeats with furrowed eyebrows. “Sorcerers came into my land and ransacked my villages — sorcerers from this bastard’s empire!” 

“An action that validates your anger and course of action,” you remind yourself to take tiny breaths. “…However, Satoru didn’t order the attack himself; they went against procedure and stormed your country with poor judgment.”

The tall demon rolls all of his eyes and clicks his teeth. “Ridiculous.”

“No, what’s ‘ridiculous’ is how you fail to acknowledge why those sorcerers went to your zone.” Gojo’s turn to interpolate. “One of the noble sorcerers and his company died because of your demon folk invading my country without permitted passage. That noble had a family, students that followed his footsteps—“

“Are you saying my people didn’t have kin of their own to return to, Gojo Satoru?”

“Your people sure kill like they don’t—“ Another swipe of Sukuna’s fingers glid the air; this time, Gojo’s Infinity was on guard, ricocheting the cleave to mark a scratch on one of the curtains. “Hah, just like their leader.”

Sukuna flexes his knuckles to crack, black fingernails appearing sharper. “The demons who killed that sorcerer acted on their own accord. Just like the many men of your land who came to mine, whom I corrected for your lack of oversight.”

“Then allow me to fulfill my mistake,” the silver-haired man’s eyes glow. “And let me kill the demons responsible — just like you did to my men, fucking cretin.”

“Over my dead body, human trash.”

“My Lords!” The men concurrently exchange their gazes back to you. “This is why I will not be accepting either proposal solely. You come to my home to ask for my hand because you see me as of value, correct? Well, you both are people I care deeply for, and the thought of walking beside either of you for eternity is something I’d accept unmistakably under different circumstances…But, please acknowledge my position in all of this: I am the princess of an extraordinary continent and heir to the throne after my father, a man who has maintained peace and harmony all these years. Now, that peace is hanging on the brink of death and will soon be a matter I should issue alone, and the men who’ve grown with me and cherish me combating each other until one stands tall….or none stand at all.”

Word spilled after another as if a dam had broken down — fingers jitter even when clasped together. Your throat dries up after every sentence, yet your unwavering resilience pushes you to keep going.

“I’m sorry if what I’m saying or doing is selfish, and…you may be right that I’m going at it with the whims of a child. But, please,” Do not cry, do NOT cry. “Standing idly every passing day watching the men I’ve grown to—“ Love? Isn’t that too intimate of a word to assume? “…treasure kill themselves and others without doing anything wounds me enough. And if you think I can sit here in this palace and watch my intended go far and yonder to kill another person whom I cherish with no guarantee that they will return to me wholly, think twice.”

Your shoulders threaten to tremble; of course, you’re frightened beyond belief by what you’re saying. But you’re sure if she was here, Utahime would pull you in for a hug and acclaim how well you’re following her counsel.

“Please, I just…can’t bear it.”

Uncomfortable muteness gnaws you alive within the muteness of your room. You’re bound to draw blood on your bottom lip with how much you’re chewing it. If only your father were awake in this hour, his guidance at a moment like this would be beneficial, or merely observing from afar how you’re managing would give you some hope. Alas, you know he’s in deep sleep halls away. It’s just the three of you in this space — or just you versus the huge opposing auras thick enough to be slit by Sukuna’s cleaves. 

Speaking of whom, the demon king watches you the entire speech. Same with Gojo, whose blue eyes dwindle back to their typical hue. The two men don’t dare break the silence as you stand before them, mentally swimming in thoughts alone to yourself….Well, at least the northern prince wouldn’t dare to do so first because Sukuna initially ripped the stillness to shreds. He says, “And how would your father respond to this feckless plan of accepting two marriage proposals?”

A worthy question to ponder. “…I’m sure he’d come to an understanding once I explain my reasoning,” the belly of the eastern king grumbles. “I’m sure he’d be contended at the fact that his two trusted allies would want to join houses.”

Gojo sits up straight atop your bed. “Well, that sounds all nice and dandy on that front. But, the problem still lies in us acting like…a ‘real couple.’ Face it, princess; you may seem okay with being with us both, but that doesn’t mean we’d be on the same page.”

Sukuna nods curtly. “I’d rather eat every human alive than entertain the thought of someone other than me touching you.” 

The other shrugs. “Even if the world’s fate depends on it.”

The men’s grievances are valid arguments for why your plan can backfire, particularly when suggesting a relationship where two people can’t stand each other. What you’re posing is an action that has been practiced before yet isn’t entirely favored in the public eye. Nevertheless, your stance doesn’t change; you refuse to go back on your word, believing that it’s a better alternative to condone than the others. The only tricky part is convincing your childhood friends…

…Which is why what you’re about to do is indubitably unlike you. 

“…What are you doing?"

But despite that, it’s a course of action that highlights your determination.

“—Woah!! Princess?! Why are you undressing??!”

Even if it’ll go down as the most downright humiliating thing you’ve done to yourself.

Your nightgown meets the ground of your feet, the cool air wrapping your nude frame with the heat of the fireplace hovering on one side. Arms free of sleeves, nipples easily spotted now with the dismissal of clothing, the region between your lower thighs bare, and delicate skin exposed for only the men in the room to see. And even then, your face doesn’t decline the miserable hotness. Embarrassed? No doubt about it.

“My Lords,” you croak, balled fists muster to contain whatever left of dignity you can. “This form…isn’t meant for any regular eyes to see — an offering only a slim few I’d trust to witness. Tonight, I want you two to see me like this.” You slowly step forward, gradually getting closer to Sukuna’s giant size. “As your princess, I offer my whole to you both, as you are mine…and I am yours.”

Sukuna blinks at your small figure close to his; the intensity of his stare is enough to have your heart sink into a pool of regret. Until he bends to scoop you with his lower arms, you yelp at the sudden action with hands finding his sturdy shoulders to grab. Now, he is way closer than you anticipated, his very chin inches away from brushing your naked chest. Holy shit.

“You are mine, and I am yours?” he lifts his eyebrow. “Was that not true already?” You gulp thickly before answering, daring to cup his cheek with a hesitant hand. Again, you’re surprised to see it still attached, let alone see him lean to your palm. 

“You’d have to prove it true — here and now, make this ceaseless battle end by claiming me as yours…You too, Gojo.” You and the demon holding you turn to the man sitting on your bed. The pale skin of his face now harbors shades of pink that cascade across his cheeks and the dip of his ears, expression dumbfounded to what he witnessed. “Demonstrate how serious you are for my hand, or you and Sukuna can leave my room.”

Sky-blue eyes blink absentmindedly, words hard to pick and choose for the human prince in this bizarre minute. Sukuna then speaks with a huff.

“Well, are you going to start moving or what? Because whether you stay or not, your princess will become mine tonight.” He grins before leaning in to lick your skin, and you hold a whine when the mouth of his navel lightly chews on your tummy. “And on the many nights coming after.”

The beast’s words flip a switch, causing Gojo to chuckle and shake his head while unbuttoning his shirt. “Not if I have something to do about it, four-eyes…”

You drew in breath while watching Gojo undress, more of his milky skin stripped out of his clothing, revealing parts of the prince that you could only imagine in your fantasies. Heat flourishes to your ears, and another gasp is pulled out when Sukuna sneaks his free lower hand to cusp your buttcheek. He then brings an upper hand to your chin to face him and his sneer. 

“You’ve made this night a whole lot more interesting.”

And that was the last time the sound of the fire cracking caught your attention.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Mmmm…Ahh—Ahhh!!”

“Keh, sure are tight as hell; definitely a virgin.”

“Fuck, I can hear the sounds from here…Oh, fuuck…!”

The sea breeze climbs up to your terrace, crawling into your room to swing the curtains of your canopy. The candles around your room continue to flame and provide light for the room to glow. The scent of lavender and rose from your bath and lotion an hour earlier remains in the air and sticks to your skin. The midnight hour isn’t yet, but the sky is dark enough past the twilight hues. 

Expected as the former home of the Great Saint Tengen, the palace is as enormous. Harboring many rooms, halls, and floors for the company of the royal family and their subjects, the castle is unchallenging for a newcomer to get lost inside without a proper guide. Every room is catered to a specific event, person, meeting, or occasion in this place. On top of that, multiple guest chambers are meant for the guests invited under the King’s audience to rest.

…But it seems that Gojo and Sukuna are not retiring for the night anytime soon.

How could they sleep when you’re being a courteous host, letting your childhood friends spend the late hours in your room? Just like when you were young and playmates or learning to master a weapon. The only thing is that these two aren’t the same as two decades ago; they are men, branded with titles and responsibilities, blood already stained their knuckles, and duties hold them to a high expectation that you know all too well. 

And, like all men, they have a salacious curiosity only appropriate for the bedroom. An interest you knew would one day be prevalent in your life if you agreed to take either as a husband…Yet, you’re not as prepared on the chance you’d face both realities simultaneously. 

All three of you are stationed in your bed, clothes decorating your floor to leave you all bare for each other to see and marvel at — more so on your part. You lie on your back to a giant broad chest and stomach, Sukuna right behind you with his lower arms holding your feet by the back of your knees. Knees spread apart, your naked lower half is out, free for the monster to insert a single thick digit of his left upper hand into your wet chasm while the right fondles your left tit.

Never in your life did you think you were capable of producing such indecent noises. Low whimpers are embarrassing to recollect as the demon king plays with your most tender parts. His big fingers tweak your nipple, and the digit – way thicker than yours – inside your cunt is enough to stretch your opening, wiggling and scratching the inside. Fingering yourself never felt like this, your body experiencing a refreshing sensation you hadn’t known of. And to have the eastern king of all people to bestow this feeling on you brings just as much awe as humiliation.

Nonetheless, that indignity doesn’t cease. Gojo stands on his knees before you, propped between your sunder legs, while his hand strokes an erect limb. Yes, as a virgin maiden, tonight would be the very first time you ever see a living, breathing member, and the northern lord takes that honor with a lustful smile. His solid cock gets stiffer with every jerk, a left curve protruding the more your appearance excites him. To be observed and used as material as your slit is fingered? How lewd!

“Nnnn, ahaahn…” Sukuna’s finger rubs on your velvety surface, your legs wanting to squirm despite the monster’s hold. “Oh Gods…Ohhh!!”

“Damn, you look so good,” Gojo mutters under his breath, precum drizzling his fingertips. “Looks like it feels good, huh, princess?”

“Sure feels like it,” every word that Sukuna utters causes tremors to pass down his abdomen to your back, the very vibrations crawling on your skin like the tongue that licks your back to make you arch. “Hm? Tell us how you really feel, little one.”

The usage of that name causes your vaginal walls to twitch; he has never called you as such, and picking such an intimate time to do so makes your frame feel awkward and warm. “…I-I—fffmm!—don’t know…”

“Hmph, you dare lie to me,” he bends to your ear, and his deep chuckle ignites your stomach to knot itself. “Like your body doesn’t speak for itself, clenching on my finger like you want to snap it off.”

“Th-that’s not—“The graze of your upper wall cuts you off, and your hands struggle to find places to grab, gripping the skin of Sukuna’s thigh and grabbing tuffs of his apricot hair. 

The demon king snickers more when his middle finger teases your taint, pressing a kiss on your cheek before a quick bite. “Only one finger in, and you’re already wailing like a common whore; be lucky that I haven’t added another, then you’d really be prepared for me…” You feel something brush up against your back, the tips of Sukuna’s cocks reminding you of his eventual promise.

“Wooow, calling the future heir a whore; must’ve forgotten whose room we’re in.” The white-headed man had something to say about that, satisfyingly ruining the mood for the demonic being. 

“They don’t seem to mind, at least their cunt doesn’t,” uncouth cords that speak truth, your vulva squeezing his finger constantly. “Who would’ve thought the beautiful, refined, and compassionate princess,” each enunciated word has consequences that are a lick and bite to your helix. “Was, in fact, a dirty, nasty girl?”

“Holy shit,” Gojo’s hand goes faster, his dick ready with stiffness. The image of you melting under the Fallen Star’s hold is too hot for the young man to witness. “God, I wanna fuck you so bad, baby…”

Sukuna clicks his teeth. “Well, hurry the hell up and do it before I change my mind and fuck them myself.”

“And have them bleeding to death because of your giant dicks on their first time? Fuck that,” He ignores the four rolled eyes as he maneuvers closer to you, Sukuna pulling his finger out of your wet slit and slithering further down to your anus. He coaxes you to relax your tense muscles, pushing his digit into your puckered hole second by second. The gasp you release once it’s added sends shivers up Gojo’s shoulders. “A princess should be treated like a pearl – tended to with the utmost care.”

“Go–jooo…” You whine as the human heir cups your cheeks to squeeze.

“What did I say about using my family name?” He scolds with a cheeky tune, gauging your reaction as he disposes his cockhead to the folds of your vagina. 

“…S-Sa—Mmmph!” The push of his pink tip is a new sensation.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” He coos, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “Relax, just focus on me.” Your eyes lock with his, distracted by the twinkle and swirl of his azure irises, like a whirlpool sinking into the darkness of his dilated pupil. “What’s my name, cutie?”

“Saaa…Sato—Ohhh!!” And just like that, the tip of his limb enters inside, bypassing your knowledge until the wince of pain snaps you out of your distraction. “…to’ruu…”

His teeth glisten under her grin. “That’s my good girl.”

Gojo keeps propelling himself inside you, gradually shoving every inch of his lengthy girth. You bite your quivering lip at the stretch of your opening, accommodating the foreign body part burrowing inside your inner channel. The left curve of his has his penis rubbing on parts of yourself you hadn’t thought possible; a graze of your G-spot causes your legs to quirk and toes to curl. 

But then, once his silverish pubes meet your outer labia, he reaches the depth of your cervix and gives it a chaste kiss. And your frame suddenly shuts down briefly, your senses running cold before you cry aloud without knowing. Your hands rush to cover your mouth, but the damage is too late.

Sukuna raises a brow. “What a shout.” He then uses your reaction to add another digit into your ass.

“Ahhhh, there it is,” Gojo swallows thickly, hips speaking for themselves as they sway. “That was cute as hell–the way you twitch feels so good…” Another poke to your cervix, and your legs can’t help but wrap around Gojo’s waist.

“Satoru, please…!” You plead with knitted eyebrows. “Pleasee, be gentle with me…”

Blue eyes narrow. “God, who told you to be so adorable?” Gojo angles down to your face, his nose mere centimeters to yours. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll treat you right tonight…Hmmm.”

The man leans in to place his lips on your forehead before his own, and the pace of his thrusts quickens to mediocrity. The rubs on your silky texture become frequent, lightly pounding his shaft into your to till his testes knock your chasm, the whimpers you try to repress boost to a louder volume. His left curve spikes up your nerves with every push and pull, easing the itching heat that permeates around your lower half. 

Hands writhe around to calm around Gojo’s cold back; you say his name in prayers. You can feel something coming, and if he keeps rutting to you like this, it’s bound to come earlier than expected. “—Nnaaa, Sat’ruuu, w-wait!! I can’t—Ahaann!!”

“—Mmmm! Yeah, just like that, princess, keep gripping on me like that…” He doesn’t listen, too lost in your warmth and wetness that he can’t stop. The flex of his abs increases, plunging into your pussylips desperately as if he can sense the eventual you fear. 

“T-Toruu, wait, go slooww!!” Words mean nothing, hips not declining in their needing cadence. Oh Gods, I can feel it; it’s coming! Nerves climb to a peak way too fast for your comprehension, nails digging into Gojo’s skin before your orgasm hits you, choked squeaks leaving puffy lips as your cunt contracts around the prince’s girth and your asshole clamping around Sukuna’s fingers.

And Gojo is right there experiencing your climax with you, moaning under his breath and pressing his forehead to yours before he completely melts under the fluttering motions of your genitalia. “—Mmfff, ffffshit, so tight…!” He can’t stop thrusting into you, moving his pelvis slowly to draw out the sensation before he sinks into a crescendo of his own. “Fuuck! Yeah, cutie, that’s right; ride it out,” he snaps an abrupt drill to your aching entrance. “Ride it out…”

Sukuna scoffs lightly before whispering in your ear. “Done already, human?” Patronizing attitude to make you fidget. “Better be ready for me still.”

“Ehhh, but I’m not done here.” The snow-haired man retorts, massaging your waist out of the quakes. 

A thread snaps in the wake of the other’s words, and Sukuna’s lack of patience drives him to push you and Gojo off of him. The two of you roughly position to where you are essentially straddling Gojo, his erection still inside your slick-coated cavern. The devilish man swiftly ends up on his knees before contorting his massive figure to dwarf both humans beneath him.

“Gahhh!! Sukuna, what the fuck w—Mmmph?!?” With the spawn of a mouth, the eastern king shuts the northern man up by slamming his upper left hand onto his mouth for an unexpected kiss. Gojo muffles under the other’s palm, the tongue shoving itself inside.

“Shut up,” Sukuna orders with annoyance. “So damn chatty…And you,” he uses his lower hands to steady your ass, and you stifle a yelp at the contact of something pressing up against the opening of your butt. “Stay still, or I can make it hurt real bad.”

His warning is enough to keep you immobile, following his instructions and stationing your breathing to a steady rhythm. Your hands-on Gojo’s chest ball to fists once Sukuna pushes his tip to your asshole, your mouth forming a permanent ‘o’ shape once he eventually gets the cockhead inside. Just when you thought this night couldn’t get any more extreme, you had forgotten about the taller individual’s well-endowed self: two hefty, girthy limbs that you NEVER, in your wildest dreams, imagine would put inside your body — not even one!

However, tonight was the night that would be put to the test, and at the very least, Sukuna compromised, using one of his members to ravage your interior while the other skims the crevice of your asscheecks. He goes excruciatingly slow; rather than just ramming the entire thing in one go, it’s better. Gods, no, you’d be shedding more tears than you already are. Every inch that’s plunged inside you pushes out shaky breaths, sobbing from the intrusion and bits of drool slowly escaping you.

“Daahhnn, ohmyG—Nnnm!!” It’s finally all in, all swallowed up by the ridge of your bottom. You call to him, “S-Sukunaa…fuull, so fuulll…”

“I bet you are.” He adds more weight, scrunching down, making it worse by caging you under his bow. Sukuna grinds his hips, which evoke sharp cries, “Hmmm, fuck, so tight…”

The salmon-haired behemoth rocks his enormous hips, the propulsion strong enough to rock you and Gojo concurrently. This time, unlike the northern man under you, Sukuna’s movements exude dominance; from his firm grip on your waist to the confident pull of his hips, everything he does is marked with a purpose. You can tell by how his big, weighty balls smack on your sexed union with Gojo.

Speaking of whom, the polar royal subsists in the kiss with Sukuna’s hand. Yet as the seconds turn to a minute, his expression morphs into a less perturbed display. Instead of fighting it, he kisses back with the palm and bucks his hips into you. The action of his cock rubbing on the sweet spots of your vagina while the one carves and churns your butthole and the other glides on your crack grinds your brain to turn into mush. Your nerves have yet to calm down from the prior orgasm, senses overloaded with constant commotion going on in your private parts.

Sukuna’s pushes become quicker and mightier, and the more he ruts, the more your clit grinds onto Gojo’s pelvis, sending shocks straight to your head. There’s no room for rest…! “—Ohhh, hooooh’Kunaaa, Kunaa, pleaseee…!”

“‘Please, please,’ please what?” He mocks you, knowing you’re powerless to reprimand him in this predicament. “Just whining and whining like a bitch in heat; have you no shame, princess?”

“Ohhh, I’m gonna—shtoooop!!” He licks your ear as you moan aloud, steamy tears striking down your hot cheeks. The pace increases, and so does the swipe of your clit and the bump of your womb. “Ohhhfuck, fuck, fuckfuuuuck…!!”

“Kehaha, look at you; the poor princess finally breaks their poised picture,” dark, pleased chuckles seep out of the demon king’s lips, biting onto your shoulder harshly to make you scream. And judging by him licking your added wound, you’re sure he drew blood. 

“Ahhsshh—ohmyGod, ohmyGod!! S’kuna, don’t!!” Desperate pleads slur out. “I’m gonna break; y’re gonna break meee…!!!”

“Good, I want you to be broken,” he sneers as his upper right arm pushes you to face him. “Break for me; think of nothing else other than being mine. Right now, your mind, body, and soul are mine to torment and tear apart. You are my little dove, small and easy to break from now till your dying breath. Am I clear, pet?”

Scared? Of course. The way his scarlet orbs bore holes into your very being had you petrified; he doesn’t need his hellish aura and brawny hands that can snap a tree in half to assimilate fear into your heart. Witnessing the true power of the King of Demons with just his stare, nothing scarier than that…And yet, your anus and chasm can’t stop squeezing like crazy.

“…Yess, my Lord,” you croak, his finger wiping the saliva on his fingertip. “I am your pet from this—nnmm!!—this moment until the…very last.”

Anxiety doesn’t diminish when he broadens a devilish smile, but it transforms into perplexity once he slams his lips onto yours—your first kiss, taken by the eastern King, along with the chastity of your rear hole. And there’s Gojo, who is the very man who has taken claim of your virginity. Two men, your childhood companions, taking your firsts! Tonight, indeed, is marked down as an eventful occasion for you. 

You sink into the passionate kiss, your tiny tongue swirling around with Sukuna’s, his fangs grazing the muscle teasingly before he nibbles on it to hear you shrill for him. All the while, his hips go erratic, motivating Gojo to increase his tempo. The feverish rhythm leaves you breathless, crying in the company of lust and rapture to the point that you’ve become numb. Your vision becomes blurry, your head foggy, and the air between you three misty. Noises of skin smacking onto each is all you hear, drowning you further into another spazz you couldn’t adequately foretell.

Gojo and Sukuna chase their climaxes together after your walls quirk and spasm uncontrollably, letting their fluids burst inside to fill your holes to the very brim. You howl in Sukuna’s mouth, who chews on your bottom lip roughly, same with Gojo’s with the palm before snatching his hand away. The snowy-headed man huffs and pants, nearly choking on spit as his midsection flexes with every jerk of his ejaculation. And the giant above you groans while rutting into your ass, not stopping until his high passes through, the free girth ejecting semen to paint across your sweaty back.

For a few seconds, it’s utterly hot and cold at the same time, your figure trembling with the acute shocks coursing through your bones. Eyes roll to the roof of your canopy, and limbs wobble and give way for you to slump after Sukuna releases you from his breathtaking kiss. Luckily, Gojo is there to catch you, the comely noble attending to you with kisses to your temple.

“Look what you did,” he spits to his left, wanting to rid his mouth of whatever remnants Sukuna left with that disgusting kiss. “You weren’t kiddin’ when you said you wanted to break them.”

“Hmph, don’t ever take me for a liar,” the demonic man stretches after withdrawing his length out of your butt, chortling at the sight of his essence sticking to you. “Oi, dove, you hear me?”

“Princess, you all right…?”

Whatever words the two were saying to you had begun to fade away despite their proximity. Your eyelids refuse to fight the urge to close, and your skin allows the cold breeze to blanket you. Everything goes black, your breathing returns to balance, and the sound of the fire cracking comes back to sing you to sleep.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“My Lady, are you sure you’re feeling all right?”

“Huh?” You snap out of being zoned out for the sixth time today. Your vision is now present with the gazebo view, the ocean glistening from the morning sun in the distance, contrasting with the beautiful greenery of your garden. Many flowers of different shapes and sizes, various colors painted on top of the veins and roots separated from the yellow brick road coursing around it.  

You sit at the gazebo for your morning tea; it’s part of your morning routine after a nice bath and Utahime helping you pick what to wear for the day. Usually, when you sit here, you admire the tranquil sounds of the outside space and the sweet taste of your hot beverage.

“—Mmmm! Yeah, just like that, princess, keep gripping on me like that…”

“Stay still, or I can make it hurt real bad…Hmmm, fuck, so tight…”

Memories from last night flash one after the other, ringing your ears with nothing but the erotic noises and voices from the night before. Your cheeks dial in warmth, recollecting the senses of having both men — your childhood friends — so intimately close to you. The hotness of their breath touching your skin, the wet, teasing licks of the tongue from Sukuna’s stomach, Gojo’s slender fingers swiping and pinching your clitoris as he sucks on your nipple, and Sukuna using one of his arms to restrain your hands behind your back as he uses two others to keep your hips still to hammer your holes with his girth. 

“Princess…” the way Gojo says your name, your stomach flips to the smooth tone of his voice. His striking blue eyes survey your expression like you’re his lost treasure. His hard body meshing together with your sweaty, soft figure is a sensation you’ll probably never forget…

“Princess…” Sukuna, with his red eyes and demonic face structure, put you in a paralysis spell, and his intimidating aura suffocates you to submit to his gaze and hold. Under his bow, you felt as though you were nothing but his and his alone. And you can’t tell if that is scary or intriguing…

“…—dy Lady….MY LADY!!”

“Y–Yes!?” Your attention swerves to reality, Utahime’s face mere inches from yours. Her brown eyes filled with worrisome confusion, scanning your expression. 

“What on Tengen’s Earth is going on with you?” She says with a sigh, “Are you sick? Did you not get enough rest last night? Tsk, it must’ve been Lord Sukuna and that blue-eyed jerk. My apologies, my Lady. I hope their intrusion didn’t keep you awake for too long.” 

You shake your head to your best friend. “No need to apologize, Utahime. And it’s all right; the Lords didn’t give me too much trouble.”

She gives a nod to your response, observing you picking up your teacup and taking a sip before setting it back down gently. “Still, I find it odd that both lords wished to see you so late at night. At the same time, too…If you don’t mind me asking, my Lady, what did they wish to speak with you?”

Again, she is your best friend, so you can trust her with the information you’re about to give. “…Apparently, both Lord Sukuna and Lord Gojo wish to have my hand in marriage—“

“MARRIAGE!!??”

“Shhhh!!” With haste, you stand from the table to cover your lady-in-waiting’s mouth from uttering another word. You swiftly survey the entire garden to see if anyone from the castle heard the shout. Luckily, it was just the two of you. “Please, Utahime, not so loud.”

The woman with her mouth covered blinks once, twice, before giving an assured mod for you to release her lips. She now speaks in whispers with you, “My apologies. But…marriage??”

“I know, it surprised me, too. It seems my father gave them his blessings to ask for my hand. It could be for the sake of our families and  relations or to strengthen the bond of our empires to maintain the powerhouse that is our continent.” 

“Mmm, those are valid reasons to consider, especially after the Great War, and that the bond of the three empires would give a good message…Or perhaps, did the Lords wish to wed you for more personal reasons?”

They did. That’s what you wanted to say. But instead, all you could do was think about their proposals from last night. The way they both stood on one knee and took two hands. Gojo’s eyes never looked so sincere and soft when looking at you, placing his soft lips on your left ring finger to gently kiss it. He looked like his princely self. But that night, he showed the caring and soothing cadence you had fallen in love with all these years. And Sukuna, oh Lord. Never did you think you’d live to witness the day this giant being before you took a knee for anyone – especially for you. Your right hand easily dwarfed in his grasp, brought to his lips that you’d only ever dream to have touch you. And those piercing eyes of his, red like blood, examining every single feature of yours as if you were the thing that made him strong yet weak. It was subtle, something only meant for your eyes to see. But most of all, it was genuine. 

“…That might be it, as well.” You mutter under your breath, your cheeks becoming warm while reminiscing the scenes to yourself. 

However, your chambermaiden was no fool at all. She could tell from your wandering gaze that something, in fact, did happen between the three royals that night. She lifted a brow at your response, “I think that is the case, seeing as though you’re trying to hide the smile from me.”

You squeak, immediately facing in her direction, seeing the foxy grin on her beautiful, scarred face. “I’m smiling?”

“Aha!” Oh no, I fell for it. “Gotcha! Oh my, it seems my Lady is having troubles with the heart. Could it be you are considering the marriage proposals?”

“W–Well…I don’t know myself,” it was an honest answer; you didn’t know the answer yourself. “The matter caught me off guard; I wasn’t expecting either of them to come to my quarters, let alone propose to me on the night of their arrival—“

“That’s not my question, my princess.” You gulp when she cuts you off, Utahime narrowing her feline eyes as she speaks. “It made you incredibly nervous that the three of you would be here at the same place, thinking those two would go at each other’s throats. Now, two Lords still stand, asking for you to be by their side, and you can barely keep a straight face. If you ask for my piece, I’m relieved they came here with the thoughts of marriage rather than spark up talk of another war in this continent.” 

You hum along to your maiden's words, taking in her reasoning. Yet she continues, “And judging by how fidgety you appear to be on this fine morning, something tells me you’re on the fence of accepting. Who will take my Lady’s hand? Lord Ryomen? Gojo? Ugh. If it’s the latter, I’ll only deal with him for your happiness. And Lord Ryomen, oh my. Being the spouse to the most powerful beast of Holy Tengen's continent , it’s something out of a fairy—“

“Utahime, calm down!” You stop the lady from her excitement bubbling into something substantial. You can tell she’s itching to plan your wedding – whenever that be – once your tea time is finished. “I…I didn’t accept their proposals, not yet.”

The dark-haired woman drops her jaw; how unfortunate it is for you to lie to your best friend. “What do you mean!? You didn’t? Then how come you three were discussing for such a long time? I saw Lord Gojo return to his quarters in the middle of the night, and I figured it was because you all had an in-depth discussion.” You open your mouth, but your words are caught on the back of your tongue. You couldn’t formulate a proper excuse or lie in time. Because of that hesitation, Utahime’s brows draw upward with wide eyes, her mouth changing into a small “o” shape. It was at that moment that you realized you dug yourself a grave.

“Princess,” her voice was still hushed, speaking slowly as if not to jump so hard to her assumptions. “…What exactly were you doing with Lord Satoru and Ryomen?”

“PRINCESS! PRINCESS!!”

Saved by another voice entering the fray, you and your lady-in-waiting turn around to see another person coming to the garden, running down the brick road to your destination. As they came closer, you could tell from the bright blue hair and uneven bangs that it was Utahime’s apprentice, the lower-status handmaiden Kasumi Miwa. Your lady-in-waiting was the first to correct her before getting closer, “Maiden Miwa! I’ve told you about running so freely around the castle. What if you were to bump into someone?” When Miwa is in the presence of the two of you, she’s huffing and puffing. “And stand up straight!”

“Eek! Sorry, Lady Iori, but I come bearing news for the princess!” Miwa fixes her posture and messy blue hair while trying to situate her breaths steadily. “Princess, I’m here to tell you that Lords Sukuna Ryomen and Satoru Gojo wish to speak with you!”

Huh??!! “Pardon??”

“Yes, they wish to discuss their proposals with you from last night. At least, that’s what they told me…Oh, there they are!” 

“Miwa, shhhh, don’t point!” 

You pay no mind to your chambermaid lecturing her young student because your eyes follow the brick pathway up to the castle steps where two figures stand. Sukuna and Gojo stand at the entranceway to the garden, both wearing their respective clothing. Not that it matters, though, because the memories from last night with your nude bodies being connected still haunt your senses. And now they’re here, big grins on their faces that share the same reason. They know, and they know that you know. Who knew that such a night full of unexpected passion and heat would happen to you and with your closest friends since your little years, who have grown to become such strong, handsome, and powerful men. 

Perhaps this was the union you’ve wished for — the union that could finally bring you three back together…Perhaps.

“…Tell them that I’m available to speak.”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header art by rororogi mogera + dividers by @cafekitsune.

[chuluoyi]

࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 02:33 P.M 」

based on this video. this idea has been rotting in my brain for some while :') dad gojo will always have a soft spot in my heart <3

a part of gojo's love entries

your baby’s first trip to aquarium was such a cute affair you were sure you wouldn’t forget anytime soon.

“waaa~” your baby’s eyes were gleaming with wonder as he gazed at the diverse array of colorful fishes above him, completely captivated by the view.

and your husband...

“aren’t they pretty, hmm?” satoru asked his adorable son with a grin, pecking his cheek and holding him snugly in the baby carrier against his chest, with a backpack of baby essentials strapped on his back.

he was the very vision of a domestic dad, and along with your son, who was dressed in a bear onesie, complete with two little ears, they made a really irresistible pair. even you couldn’t fault the crowd for staring at them.

“fwaa! waa~” your munchkin was squirming with joy, his tiny fingers stretching out towards the sight before him. satoru giggled, moving closer to the glass to give his baby a better view.

“look! that’s clownfish! and those wiggly flowers are anemone! and that is—”

he faltered at a fish passing in his view before deciding, “this— i don’t know, but it’s the clownfish’s friend!”

they are basically the same. your little boy and your husband, both of them clearly shared a brain cell as they happily pointed out different fishes.

“meh! hehe!” your baby babbled away, excited and incredibly happy in his father’s hold, and satoru too seemed to feel the same, as his eyes beyond that sunglasses crinkled.

“damn, my kid is so cute.”

suddenly he dived down and pretended to chew his pumpkin’s chubby cheeks, effectively making him squeal in glee.

and oh lord, the way your heart skipped a beat seeing that. it was so clear how much satoru adored your baby, and it made overwhelming warmth rush to your chest.

“he’s a good man,” an elderly lady beside you suddenly remarked, making you turn to her. “not many men do that for their kids.”

“he is…” you agreed with a shy smile.

“it’s a shame that you only have one baby,” the elderly man beside her—possibly her husband—added. “you’re still young and he is so good with them too.”

your heart swelled and would’ve already burst if it was possible. bashfully, you thanked the elderly pair as they went on their way.

and along the way, you received similar hushed comments and adoring looks—

“oh my! their baby is so cute!”

“how can such family exists?! the dad, mom, baby… all three of them are so good-looking!”

“such a hot dilf! can’t he divorce his wife and marry me instead? i’ll be his kid’s stepmother gladly!”

satoru pretended not to hear, but he clearly held back his laugh. you threw the school girl who carelessly blurted that a pointed look, making her scurry away.

and after the three of you were done walking around the aquarium, you stopped by the gift shop to get your baby his first fish pet.

your son suddenly became fussy, and satoru unclasped him from the carrier. “hmm? do you want mama?” he handed him over to you. “here, here~ mama wants to hold you too~”

as soon as your son was settled in your embrace, he giggled, and you couldn’t help but bounce him and coo. “do you have fun? you do, don’t you?”

it might not visible to others, but now satoru was staring at both of his reasons of being with literal stars in his eyes.

several years ago, he thought his life had stopped when his best friend negated his beliefs entirely, but you were there, holding his hand throughout it all. and then you married him— and then, you gave him a son to dote on.

you keep giving his life a new meaning. and he was thankful for that.

. . . meanwhile, you kept hearing whispers from a gaggle of girls in the next aisle, about how much of a dreamboat your husband in his blue shirt was and it was grating at your nerves so much that you pursed your lips into a total pout.

satoru thought you were the cutest, not even second to his baby, and he decided he wasn’t known for public decency anyway so he dived in and pecked your lips—dispelling any stray thoughts and making you flush in an instant.

“sato—!”

and before you could rebuke him, he whispered in your ear:

“so... baby number two, when?”

[emphistic]

What is Love?

Picking Yuuji up from school was not a rare occurrence. On the other hand, picking Yuuji up from school while accompanied by Sukuna was a rare occurrence.

Kids are flocking to you like birds, asking if you were Yuuji's mom, and who that creepy man next to you was — this all reminded said creepy man about why this was a rare occurrence, and how it should stay one.

The final straw for Sukuna snaps when a little boy, probably around Yuuji's age, approaches you with his hands behind his back. "Hi, you are very pretty. Can I be your boyfriend?"

You looked a bit taken aback, before remembering this was a kid talking to you, and kids could be quite . . . odd. "Um, thank you! You are very sweet, but, I already have a boyfriend."

Sukuna smirks to himself, a smug expression painted on his face.

"That's okay. I have two girlfriends; you can have two boyfriends," the kid giggled. "He doesn't have to know."

At this, Sukuna glares at the little boy, fully prepared and ready to beat him up, but he halted, as you placed a coaxing hand on his arm.

"Umm—"

"Here!" The boy shoved a daffodil into your hands, it was covered in dirt and had a few missing pedals.

"Oh! This is—"

"I picked it up from over there," he pointed a little finger across the school. "It's pretty. And you're pretty. So it's for you! Hehe, pretty flower for pretty lady."

Just then, Yuuji came running out of the school's doors — backpack aggressively shaking and threatening to fall off of his little arms — and into your arms, well . . . legs actually. But he demanded to be in your arms.

"Up! Up!"

"Okay, Yuuji." You hoisted him up and he immediately went to bury his face into your neck, calming down from his hyper-ness when he breathed in your perfume.

"How was school, baby?"

"It was so fun! I missed you though." You felt Yuuji frown in your neck.

"Aww, well I'm here now. Let's go home, kay? Then we can make up for the time you missed me, how about that?" You rubbed Yuuji's back.

"Okay!"

Unfortunately for the other boy that was still staring up at you — and now Yuuji, too — he was long forgotten by you. Your full attention now on Yuuji.

When the pink-haired kid is finally in the car, after wrestling to not be strapped down by the seatbelt, he immediately goes to working on an assignment. Strange, you thought, looking back at him through the rear-view mirror. Yuuji hates homework.

This continues when you three get back to the apartment. Yuuji immediately slips off his shoes and takes off to his bedroom, assignment and pencil pouch in hand.

You turn to looked at Sukuna, "I thought he wanted to play first?"

Sukuna shrugged, not knowing what his brother was up to, "He's a weirdo, you know that."

You frowned, "I'm bored."

"I know a way to pass the time."

An hour later, you exit your shared bedroom — planning to start on dinner — just to find notes and drawings all over the apartment. On the floor, in the potted plants, on the coffee table, shoved in crevices on the couch, everywhere.

Picking up a few piece of paper, you find yourself reading:

"Deer Y/N,

You are so nise to me.

You are very good at macking food.

I love you!"

"You are so amazing!"

"I love you so mutch!"

"Y/N is good and nise and prety."

Some drawings even depicted you and Yuuji holding hands.

While eating dinner, you decided to question a very smiley and giggling Yuuji, to find out that he had an assignment to show his appreciation to someone he loved.

Most of the notes were only directed to you, but some of the drawings had Sukuna too. The rest of the evening, Yuuji spent telling you and Sukuna how much he loved you guys. Quietly, and going unnoticed by Yuuji and you, Sukuna reciprocated his brother's affection.

A/N: loosely based on this ask — this was supposed to be wayyyy shorter, but i got a bit carried away

Taglist: @starlets-things @sad-darksoul @mochimoee @r0ckst4rjk @lillycore @deepchromatose @yinyinyinyinyinyin @fivehoneyharg @desihopelessromantic @lich1 @hannas16 @acroso

[kisses4reid]

understand? pt. 1 | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

summary - you’re a polyglot translator assigned to work for the bau in a cross-national case, and there’s a doctor who wants to impress you.

genre - fem!reader, SHE/HER r, fluff, meet cute, you know more than spencer and he’s attracted to that

warnings - you're both awkward, mentions of gross case file photos, little research about polyglots actually done so there are inaccuracies, cliffhanger for part 2.

w/c - 1.4k

a/n - thank you for the req anon!! there was multiple parts to this but i really like the first idea so that’s what this fic is about, might keep the other idea for later hehe. i did change some aspects. love you, thank you for the support <33 there will be multiple parts!!! stay tuned!!!

req - hi pia 💞💝🩷💓 how r u? i hope you’re feeling wonderful! this is my first time requesting smthg i apologize if i get something wrong! i’ve been having 2 thoughts about spencer x fem!reader, where reader is a russian translator and idk they meet cute or she has to work with the bau helping them on a case. just wanted to give these ideas to you, obviously feel free to do anything with them! i really enjoy your work and your writing is incredible! i have your notifications on so i am always reading whatever you post! have a great day pia 💝 lots n lots of kisses for u!

This was not what you expected. 

You, a woman in your late twenties that spent most of her time in a room listening to voices and decoding foreign messages, didn’t know what you expected. But this: a scary boss, an italian old man, and a skinny college kid, was not it. 

“Y/n L/n? I’m Aaron Hotchner, the unit chief, and this is Agent Rossi and Doctor Agent Reid.” 

You nodded your head, thick hair covering your top eyelashes as you glanced at the men. Agent Rossi shook your hand, and Dr Reid simply stood and gawked at you. To be honest, it made you worried. You had been warned this was a close knit team, that they trusted each other more than anything and that you shouldn’t get attached to any of them as you’d only be assisting them for one case.

Maybe they just didn’t warm up to new people. 

“I’ll do your formal introduction to the rest of the team now, if you’re settled down.” He asks cooly. You like the way his voice rasps, it’s assertive yet comforting. 

“Yes, of course. I can’t wait.” You smiled reassuringly at the unit chief, not ignoring the raised eyebrow you received from the silent young man now behind you.

Aaron Hotchner, your new boss for the next week or so, lead you to a large room with a circular table sat in the middle. There were two other women, one blonde and one raven haired, and another bald man that glanced at you immediately after you entered. They smiled at you and trailed your steps to where you stood beside the unit chief in front of a large TV screen.

“Everyone, this is Agent Y/n L/n. She’ll be assisting us with the Becker case you’ve all been informed of. She’ll mainly be our translator and interpreter, but she’ll also be useful for cultural identifiers and anything that we wouldn’t notice otherwise.” 

You nodded along, never being a fan of introductions since you moved to America as a small child. 

“This is JJ, our liaison, Agent Emily Prentiss and Agent Derek Morgan.” 

The ladies smiled at you, in fact all of them did. They were surprisingly open to the fact you would be joining them, the fact made your shoulders loosen and a breath to be let out discreetly. 

Next, you were on a long plane flight to Maine with Agents you had known for little under two hours, conversing about victim profiles and motives. The table in front of the ladies and your boss was strewn with victim files and gruesome photos. And while you weren’t a stranger to the dangers and violence the job brought, you had gotten comfortable with only hearing about it and not seeing it. So you opted to hover around the table and stay silent, you weren’t a trained profiler after all, just a translator.  

There was a wave of cologne that disrupted your senses, causing you to angle your head back, only to be greeted by the tall doctor. 

You smiled softly, assuming the closeness was due to the aeroplane's arrangement. Also because you got the vibe that Spencer didn’t like you. 

“Are you okay? You seem uneasy,” he asked. It was the first time you heard his voice. And it was as adolescent as you imagined for someone so young, but it had a sophisticated edge to it, with a honey-like undertone. Finding things in voices as if they were perfumes was something you unconsciously started to do since working as a translator.

“I’m fine.” You grinned reassuringly, turning back to focus on the team’s findings. 

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows slightly and stepped away, sitting down beside Morgan who had taken a seat at the back. Morgan squinted at his friend, noticing the rare confusion splayed on his face as he stared in your direction. 

“What’s up? Pretty girl got your tongue?” Morgan removed his headphones with a cheeky smile displayed on his handsome face.

“For someone who specialises in languages she doesn’t talk much.” 

Morgan smirked, “Maybe not to you.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong though.” Spencer ripped his gaze off the back of your head.

“You’ve been staring at her since she walked through those doors. You were so distracted you didn’t even greet her this morning.” Morgan pointed out. Spencer tilted his head confused, a small blush creeping up his neck. “I watched the whole thing from the conference room, so did JJ and Emily.” 

The tall boy slumped in his chair and forced himself to look out of the plane’s window, avoiding a reply to Morgan as he knew it would only result in more teasing. You were physically attractive, everyone could see that, but the thing that caught Spencer’s attention was your intelligence. He was no stranger to being a polyglot, he learnt languages for fun, but you were simply next level. Morgan studied Spencer’s face for a second before raising his attention to your hovering state. “Agent Y/n L/n.” Morgan called, causing Spencer to widen his eyes and immediately adjust his slumped position in his plane seat. You turned your head in surprise, slightly confused why you would be needed anywhere else than the files you had been translating for the past two minutes. Your heels were silent against the carpeted floors, but Spencer could sense your presence anyways. 

“How many languages do you speak?” The stoic man asked, his eyes darting between you and the doctor below you. You were not short, your genes didn’t allow for it, but you had noticed you were only taller than JJ and Rossi in the team and it felt foreign to not tower over everyone. “Um, I speak 8 languages fluently, and 4 languages semi-fluently.” You stated, readying to turn back to assist the team before Morgan spoke up once again

“Did you know that pretty boy can speak Spanish and German?” 

Before Spencer could help himself, he corrected the man, “And Latin and Russian,” Spencer turned his head up to you, “But I can understand more.” 

You smiled, genuinely impressed and confused on how a man that young could learn that much. But to be fair, you were in the same boat. The nickname got your attention, locking it in the back of your mind to remind yourself that the people you were working with did in fact have senses of humour, and weren’t just heartless officers. There wasn’t any reason to think that though, as you had been cared for with respect and even Prentiss made a funny remark beforehand. It sort of felt like a family dinner you were intruding on. “That’s impressive, Doctor Reid.” You reply genuinely. 

“I mean it’s nothing compared to you though,” his voice was pitched slightly higher and his hands started motioning to nothing in particular, “your brain is constantly changing from high activity to low activity when you're translating from one language to another. Your language network, the lateral frontal lobe, is constantly lighting up and dimming down depending on what language you hear, ordinary people’s language networks only turn on and off.” 

Morgan smirked and glanced up at your intrigued and surprised expression. You nodded, a small blush coating the tips of your ears as you responded, “Thank you.” You didn’t really know what else to say, which is funny for someone who understands so many languages, so you simply smiled and turned back to the table. Spencer slumped again, watching you walk away and asking himself why he would inform a pretty girl about her own brain, when she most definitely already knows about it. 

“Don’t worry too much, Reid.” Morgan called, grabbing Spencer’s attention. The boy raised a brow, not understanding. “She digs it, I can tell. But she’s just like you, knows how to speak in a million ways and still doesn’t know how to small talk.” 

You landed without any more awkward interactions, and got introduced to some sheriffs in Maine, one of them giving you a tighter handshake than the rest and a stare that could only mean unpleasant things. It wasn't something sexist or creepy that lingered in his eyes, it was more like hatred. Spencer took the sheriff's attention away from you after noticing what the whole team did, and asked him to show him the records they kept at the precinct.

Emily Prentiss came up behind you and placed a hand on your upper arm, squeezing it like she understood what you had thought you'd seen. Out of everyone else in the team, she would understand the most.

taglist (open!!): @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld