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esccpism · 26 days ago

Text

- let ruin end here [.]

it’s peak hours on the train to grand central. you and sevika share a booth.

cw: younger woman x older woman, strangers to lovers, reader is anywhere from 23+, cunnilingus, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, vaginal fingering, light dom/sub, complicated relationships with parents, reader's mother is passed, reader’s father battles alcoholism, overcoming implied suicidal ideation, undertones of grief

wc: 5.6k

a/n: i think the only thing that feels worse than making bad art is not making art at all. i really want to like this and can't. exposure therapy is posting it anyway! this is loosely edited so i apologize for any errors, and hope you enjoy x

fic inspired by this beautiful artwork by moonie_forever on twitter.

you don’t see her at first.

you’re focused in a frantic sense, eyes raking up and down over heads stuffed in phones or laptops for a leftover space to cram yourself into.

your hunt yields. you snatch the spot immediately, sliding into the last remaining seat in a six-seated booth.

not that you can afford any pickiness, not that you ever can—but it's an aisle seat. it’s maybe the worst for an hour commute. you’re forced to remember this almost instantly, punished by a careless passenger rushing past who pummels your shoulder with their suitcase.

the offense strikes against you like a match and the anger ignites quicker than you can swallow it.

you yelp under your breath, and look up with a painful hiss, ready to send daggers into the back of the offending head and instead your eyes latch onto her.

sitting diagonal from you, her gaze is on you already. there’s nothing in them, nothing you can discern, anyway. her vague curiosity seems to run out as soon as no argument erupts because she settles back into the book cracked open in her hands.

rubbing your shoulder, you try to be quick. strangers have a keen sense of who’s staring.

you don’t want your trip to get any more annoying, but you take a big gulp and sink under: thin rimmed glasses bridge her strong nose, and she’s dressed comfortably, dark hair tucked away behind her, wisps and fly-aways brushing over her eyes. impossibly long legs eagle outwards in the seat, taking up far more space than necessary, and you nearly laugh—the poor old woman next to her is sitting stock upwards, elbows tucked to death—but it fails to be funny for long, seeing how her thighs dwarf the woman entirely and easily.

the rest of her body follows the same pattern. her arms sit broadly. she’s got a pretty shade on her lips, dark as night, and—

you inhale sharply. she’s watching you watch her, again.

her brow lifts.

you fish for the quickest thing you can reach for: smile breezily and nod towards the book in her hands. tell her with a voice that comes out strong and unwavering that you picked it up a few weeks ago, too.

it isn’t a lie. you recognize the title. the sentence, by louise erdrich—it’s sitting on your shelf in your childhood bedroom, and you’d put the book down temporarily as you had done with most things recently in order to keep yourself afloat.

her eyebrow does something new that rustles inside you.

her voice does something worse. it’s low and smooth velvet, and curls around in your stomach when she offers back, “main character’s a bit of an idiot.”

“only at first,” your grin grows, and loses its performance.

“from cocaine transport and body snatching? i would hope so.”

“she was in love,” you shrug, in her defense. “a pretty woman will do that to you.”

her eyes glint, amusement or a ghost of a laugh or something else golden on the horizon, you’re not sure. she asks if you would know. you answer her, oh, yes. intimately.

there's a crease or a dip in the space between you two that fills itself with words, cradles lines like water cupped in the palm of your hands. you spill nothing even in the awkwardness of talking over the shoulders of the passengers beside you, who continue bouncing their feet in irritation. her gaze flickers to them and back to you, mid-breakdown of both of your least favorite writing sins ranked from most hated to satan couldn’t even think of this—something bridging just on amusement pulling at her mouth.

when the man seated in front of her stands to exit at his station you shift over to take his spot.

your knees crowd together and kiss—she asks you if you have enough space to sit comfortably, and you tell her not to move a muscle. her long legs, stretching outwards like a yawn, hold yours inbetween.

₊⊹

you’d gone home that night and, bored, thought of her briefly as the tall buildings flit by. you wonder and then wish you’d asked what she was doing in new york, where the city was taking her, where she was headed.

and then you move on.

wandering is no longer in your best interests. what’s important is what’s right in front of you, and if you let your attention drift for a moment too long it might crawl out from your grip and shatter to the floor.

you fantasize about it, sometimes, in the weak hours of the night. what it might feel like to let it all fall. how your lungs won’t remember what air feels like when it doesn’t burn. what it might mean if you were to stop running.

alcohol hits you first, always. the stench sobers you up.

you lean one hand against the hallway and lift your heel up behind you, slip your flats off and let them clatter to the floor. your dad doesn’t lift his eyes to greet you when you shuffle into the dark.

“hi, daddy,” you murmur, and rest a light hand on his shoulder as you pass.

he starts under your palm, lets his head roll towards you. the T.V. paints his face blue.

“hi, princess,” his voice scratches on the way out. he shifts, and a bottle rolls out of his lap and clatters onto the floor. you sink to pick it up, gathering another three with you. he grunts, rubbing his drooping eyes torturously slow, working the words out of his mouth. “how was your—uh…your internship?”

you let the bottles rest on the counter. there are about a dozen others there too, your eyes coast over them tiredly. tomorrow, you tell yourself. you said so yesterday, too, but you think you mean it this time. you’ll clear them out tomorrow.

you have nothing left, tonight.

you tell him to remember to turn the television off when he’s done, and after a long, dripping silence he makes a vague noise in his throat in response.

the house is dying.

there’s no pretty way around it, no way to clean the sentiment up. the house is dying. and it took your mother first, one quiet night, under the illusive cover of sleep. your father had first begged despairingly for it to give her back and then resolved to go in after her.

the pile of empty bottles on the kitchen table counts down the days. they increase steadily, creating an ominous figure in the dark, and you glance past them everytime you twist your keys through the lock.

the house is dying. your father wants to die with it, and you know greed when you see it—the floorboards shift and groan under your socks, just biding its time to give way and swallow you whole. it will come after him soon. he won’t have to wait long.

yet no matter how far you go, you can’t shake the feeling sinking its nails into you, trailing inside your shadow. the house is dying. you know that once it takes your father you will be next.

it’s what the city does for you. and you've considered moving countless nights, wrapped in your rainbow zebra print blanket, the one your mother gifted you when you were thirteen and the world was so big it burned.

the city cannot love you back, and so you stand to lose nothing from throwing yourself into its aching maw. you stare at the cars beneath you on the commute with a child weeping in the seat beside and a mother tiredly shushing it, and swallow down the bile that bubbles. stalk through grand central with tall boots that mouth at your knees or heels that make just a bit too much noise because you eat moments that make you feel alive, keep yourself full to keep from reaching for emptiness in worse places.

you’ll take the local to soho, man the shop while your boss goes off to do god-knows-what for hours and wander for a few blocks after your shift is up. you’ll head down to greenwich to sit at the park and catch your breath for a moment and leave before you can let empathy crawl between your tired bones and make you too vulnerable. it shows, sometimes, when you care too much. you avert your eyes from a homeless woman on the bench diagonal from you and bury the feeling away.

bum a smoke from a stranger at a bar or book a table at a restaurant for one, it doesn’t matter. come home around midnight and leave again before the sun. if the plan keeps you on your feet then it’s a good one.

but then there was her.

and wandering won’t do you any good—the snag she clipped in your routine was barely a blip and still her smile sears behind your eyelids, burning everytime you squeeze them shut.

she was funnier than you’d expect of her. though she’d seemed at first confused and then entertained by your giggling—her humor was a bit dry, and her face far too expressive for her own good. you’ve never seen eyebrows that moved so much.

you had forgotten what laughter tasted like.

you flip your phone shut, and slide it onto your desk. sink into your comforter. right foot first, then left. sleep seeps into you near instantly and you try not to flinch away, feeling its cold fingers slide down your eyelids. it stills you like death, every night like a ritual.

drowsiness renders you helpless. it helps.

you dream of your mother and her cradling hands—of big things, of running away, of flying.

₊⊹

the eight a.m. peak hours aren't even the worst it gets, and still you only manage to sink into another six seat booth, in the aisle space next to an elderly lady who gives you a weary look before shifting so your legs don’t touch, and returning to her mobile game.

her high score is shit when you steal a peek over, and you immediately feel a bit better.

flipping your bag, brown leather and well-loved, you tuck a hand inside and pull out your phone. eyes flickering across the screen, lifting to check the time—

there she is.

the words leap from you before you can catch them and smooth out the wrinkles,

oh—.

you!

it paints itself like a holy declaration, bright and a bit too loud. your seat mates and those across the aisle, as well as the woman who fills your chest up when her eyes lift over her lens to meet yours, all shift in unison. the world, the blue sky, all rushes out, all crashes back in.

the conductor enters the car with a woosh and clatter behind you, calls out reminding the lot of you to have all tickets ready, and you ignore it. to your every elation she does too.

not quite a smile, but something catches her lip a little, and a huff sounds through her nose.

“hey, you. long time no see.”

₊⊹

her name is sevika, and your schedules align more than is normal.

each time it's the same train car, the fifth one from the back—and if you can’t make it you just jump train cars until you spot her dark, fluffy hair from over the seats. she has the same book cracked open each time you wrestle into the booth.

her greetings tend to not be greetings. she peers at you and receives whatever it is you’ve brought to her to chat about. sometimes it’s more pet peeves, other times it book recommendations, and she begs you to slow down with those, or a video that had made you laugh so hard you spit that she watches blankly and tells you she doesn’t get it. you’d gotten her only once, though, caught her lip flicker, pull to a smirk—your own breath locks and then you pocket it for later. only the political memes make her crack.

her outfits change erratically, too, and you think the first day must have been a fluke. you ask her how she does it so early in the morning, all the belts and straps and buckles, and then kick her when she says with a small grin that she’s got a lot of practice.

she nods in greeting, once, when you come to fit in the spot before her. her legs are always spread out wide and yours tuck together, inbetween.

it’s all you spend the weekends doing, now, gathering what to take with you to monday. you’re forgetting the bottles on the counter. you’re forgetting to tell your father to turn off the T.V.. the world moves in slow motion, everything moves in slow motion. even your dreams sludge through your sleep like a child running through snow.

some horrific mornings every seat in the booth is already taken.

her gunpowder eyes will occasionally flit over to where you sit a row down, mirth brimming inside at your cross expression and your crossed legs. some days you bring two cups of coffee. and she surprises you—she enjoys hers sweet. she takes it bitter the first time, feeling sorry to force you to drink it, and you watch her stain your thermal jug with dark lipstick over the rim of your drink.

you both fall together like rainfall in june. your legs are forgetting what it feels like to be rid of oxygen, to burn and repair in order to burn. your muscles don’t ache when you sit, sevika makes sure. asks if there’s enough room for you. spreads out like open arms.

her progress in the book is slow. and you learn that she’s sort of cute when she gets defensive.

her cheeks puff out and her brow creases and you wish you could tip forward and sink into her and disappear inside it. she tells you she’s really busy, you know, and her time on the commute is really the only time she gets to herself where she isn’t sleeping.

sevika pauses then. looks at you thoughtfully.

“well. not so much anymore,” she says. “i guess now there’s you.”

but the next morning you do see her, she’s a bit further in than she would be at her usual pace—and you scoff, and then laugh, and she leans back and sighs. but watches, softly, as your giggles peel you apart.

₊⊹

for a few days you don’t see her.

you embarrass yourself by walking through every train car, eyes threading over the seat, legs sludging past briefcases and elbows. you know she won’t be in any of them if it isn’t the fifth car and you check anyway. and are proven right.

the remainder of the day is a bit dimmer. you try not to overdo it, you don’t know her, no matter how much you enjoy the chats you share. she doesn’t owe you anything, much less any fore notice of when she might be absent.

she might just be sick or taking a day off. or maybe your eagerness scared her away. or maybe something had happened to her and the universe decided you’d enjoyed enough hope for a lifetime and she was taken from you, too.

your dad doesn’t respond that night, when you greet him—and you nearly crumble right there.

you hold your breath as you shuffle over, your sandals light on the floor boards. coast a hand under his nose, and still the blood pumping in your veins.

his breath whistles against your thumb.

you let your arm fall back down to your thigh. stare fiercely down at him from where he’s curled into himself. smaller than you ever remember.

mother would ask you to save him were she still here, because that’s the kind of person she was. and it wouldn’t be a request, it would be your duty. she’d drape it around you like a badge, let go, and watch the weight of the metal pin you to the earth.

his death means your death. and maybe that shouldn’t be it—maybe you should simply love him, and let that be reason enough.

and your mother, she wouldn’t forgive you for failing. but she would understand.

you draw away. click off the T.V., set down the remote in his palm, and then turn on your heel.

₊⊹

sevika is there the next morning.

this time her eyes catch yours first, already staring before you find her.

you stall momentarily, caught like a deer. the passenger behind you steps on your heel and you both mutter half hearted apologies as you slide towards the booth.

it’s hard and inconvenient to get around the other passengers but you shuffle over them despite their evident discontent. you aren’t paying attention to them. sevika takes your arm and helps you over—her grip warms you from the point of contact, inching outward and webbing down your insides.

her eyes are careful and steady on yours the whole way down, and your bare legs scrape her thigh. she closes them briefly to make space for you.

as you get comfortable—adjust—she lifts the book from her lap.

“i got up to the part where her friend haunts her,” she says in greeting.

“they weren’t friends,” you return. “they were something worse.”

sevika shakes her head—her mouth quirks. “no,” she disagrees. “they were friends. sometimes there’s nothing worse.”

you could think of many worse things, but none of them find you right now. the image of her toothy smile is lodged in your chest like stone, a dull ache. summer glances off her face, when the train emerges from under the tunnel.

she’s all at once and all of a sudden too much. you want to turn and flee in the opposite direction. you want to lower yourself between her jaw and pull her mouth closed around you, let the fangs sink into your skin, like a cheetah licking the meat off a gazelle.

everything falls away. guilt sucks its teeth. you won’t flee, and you know you won’t. no one with this feeling fluttering in their chest and ramming against their ribcage can let death wrap its cold fingers around their arm and remain still.

you know you are forgetting your mother’s face, and your father will wither away and you won’t follow behind him—because you have something else to chase, now, and it’s living and breathing and smiling at you.

truthfully, the thought shudders through you. you’re even losing what her laughter sounded like. her voice when she’d tell you, silly girl. the place you’ll call home is waiting for you to make it. what’s there to fear?

her cradling hands inside your dreams, when she’d grip your wrist and then your face and tell you, the door is always open. go.

sevika is terrible at hiding it, and she tries—but you think she’d missed you too.

she had called the protagonist an idiot but she’s no better, you can see it in the way she stares at you as if to take you inside her mouth. how she tracks your every movement. watches the very saliva slide down your throat.

you think you could make a home out of wherever she’s heading.

you let your legs eagle out. her gaze lingers on the place where your naked knees press into her thighs. your skirt rustles but you don’t mind what she sees. if anything, you welcome her heady gaze, and the hot coals it rakes over your body.

“thought i’d lost our little book club,” you say. it’s so uncasual it trembles in the air between you two.

her dark rimmed glasses slip just a bit down her nose, and she shifts them. keeps her eyes on you.

“is that what this is?”

the question stretches wider than just the book in her lap.

the conductor calls out the transfer at jamaica—you’re meant to stretch out of your seat. sevika watches you cross your legs, watches the new passengers stream in, crowd and fill in the empty space.

a few stragglers jog down the stairs, legs reaching past every other stair. the doors close mercilessly, passing like time. their frustration or disappointment passes across your chest as if it were yours, the familiar, intrusive ache of sympathy. but their story isn’t yours.

sevika closes the book around her fingers.

“i know today’s your day off.”

sevika leans forward, onto her elbow. “and you came to find me anyway?”

“who knew you’d be here? you must really love the morning commute.”

her mouth pulls for a drawn out moment. she tells you she has a second job back on the island, that she would’ve had to commute anyway to come back home—but you interrupt her. because not at this hour.

you know when her second job ends because she told you her schedule back to front when you’d asked about it. offered details about her day-to-to with one pretty smile from you, ran you up and down her routine with her voice calm as the shifting sea. despite accusing you of eventually revealing yourself to be a hitman or something else ridiculous she’d relinquished anyway, admitting well, it’d be a sweet way to die.

you would’ve kissed her then, if you were smart enough.

“you end far too early.” you tell her now. stare, and she stares back. “you should’ve been back hours ago.”

“this is my routine, sweetheart.”

“i’m your routine.” your leg bounces, scrapes and traces hers on its journey. her eyes are damp in the sunlight, kerosene drenched, and they speckle sunspots onto your skin with her intensity.

you wonder if she’ll refuse you.

wonder what you’ll do then, what the train ride back will look like. how you’ll open the text you send your boss. how curt he’ll be with the one he sends back.

but then—inside her incriminating, drawn out silence—you think that maybe she needs direction just as much as you need chaos.

“alright,” she relents. her voice is quiet but her hands aren’t. they flatten along your knee, thumb tracing up and down. fingers nipping just under your skirt, resting there, warming. “but don’t start whining at me when you lose that dream job of yours.”

“i don’t whine.”

sevika retracts and leans back into her seat, as the train rushes forward and thrusts itself into darkness, rumbling underground. the station is four minutes away now, and the conductor’s voice crackles over the speaker.

“we’ll see.”

₊⊹

you’re the compass that points eastward.

sevika stabilizes you with a heavy hand on your waist, but she doesn’t anchor you down to the earth. you float as her heavy boots thud along the cement behind you. moves you out of the way of pedestrians, steps in front when a biker whizzes past.

it’s her apartment you’re both headed to but you’re the one leading.

but her presence weighs, and the velvet of her voice keeps you holding hands with gravity. you tell her your story, and she tells you hers.

she’s a senior consultant, and it’s a demanding job. what she says is that it can be draining. what she means is that she gets paid by big boss men and CEO’s to have someone to blame when things go to shit.

her overnight job is easier on her sore skin. she mans a gas station, and spends the shift exchanging stories with the regulars and insomniacs, and chasing away creeps that come to bother her girls.

got yourself a little community, you say, squeezing her knee, and the comment makes her pause. you watch a few things flit across her face, before she grunts, and settles on one.

…i guess i do.

on the subway her hand rests on your thigh, massaging the flesh near imperceptibly. your legs are crossed and you squeeze after squirming too long—she feels you grinding into the rolling, loose coil of pleasure from the shuddering train and she tuts you under your breath. you nearly lose your common sense, a shaky breath escaping thinly through your nose.

you don’t have to ask why she doesn’t let go of you.

you’ve seen it, anyway—she was always fidgeting, shifting her weight, wrapping fingers around a page, an unlit cigarette, or around your thigh as it bounced anxiously, over and over against her knee.

and in the dark of her apartment in the three hour layover between her different shifts, instead of a book it’s a sparkly rocks glass, or an untouched bottle. the place is neat otherwise, almost clinically clean—empty as if she weren’t it’s habitant. as if no one were.

the drinks, she doesn’t consume them. they sit there, just in case. an assembly that doesn’t speak and company that cannot warm.

you survey it wordlessly and she watches you without offering any explanation or defense.

she takes your silence a way you hadn’t meant it—stoops and begins shuffling things around, but you stop her with a hand on her arm, tugging her back up to her full height.

“there’s time for that,” you say, “later. we have so much time.”

her face flickers—tightens.

there are no tears, no emotional eruption, nothing so melodramatic. but she gathers you into her with the force of an ocean that swallows with a hungry mouth. she tastes how she looks. she moves like something inside is dying, being replaced or beckoned out by something newer, some new life she can only find on your tongue.

you give her everything you’ve got.

it’s not much. you aren’t an answer—you’re empty as a tin can most days. if she minds you can’t tell—she sucks in a breath when you stand naked before her, dripping and squeezing your thighs together.

“come here, sweetheart,” she beckons you closer, patting her thighs.

you’re guided onto her lap by a rough hand, one that squeezes and kneads but doesn’t go searching.

“spread for me.”

you whine lowly. she’s clothed still and her eyes are glued to you and it’s rustling at the sediment in your stomach, the fabric of her pants delicious on your cunt.

she taps your thighs, voice lowering, “spread your legs, baby.”

slowly, you let your knees fall wayside, and the scent of your arousal washes forward immediately. she nudges you backwards, lowering you until your back thumps onto the bed. your hips are peaked in the air towards here, dripping cunt open wide for her to see, and you exhale shakily at the new angle, embarrassment crawling over your skin.

sevika stares, slow and methodical, eyes touching every crease and corner of you as you start squirm under the heat of it, begging her to do something, before your throat caves into itself.

“so restless, baby,” she says, a small smile crawling its way on her face.

you feel like cursing, like clawing at her to move. you don’t realize you’re rolling into nothing until she rests hands on your hips and guides the movement, fingers pressing dents into your skin.

the humiliation couldn't get worse, and your pride withers as you mumble, “are you going to touch me or what?”

“i can’t savor the view?”

“sevika,” you lament, and when she laughs you feel her stomach jump against your thighs. you suck in a breath, wet with want or something bigger, you aren’t sure and won’t reach out for it. it’s enough having her this close. she’s warm every place her skin makes contact with you, the cool surface of her prosthetic fingers rooting you back to earth with every squeeze.

she doesn’t tease for long. her thumbs extends and presses down on you, and all your breath gets trapped in your throat. she rubs your clit softly, tracing little circles, matching the whimpers you make with low hums of her own. you hips lift and roll against her touch, arching off her lap.

“feel good?” she coos. “when i rub your clit like this?”

you try to tell her you need more, but her maddening pace is making your brain muddy and your words slurred and nonsensical. but she’s never needed much from you in order to understand.

sevika’s fingers dips to find where you’re most promising, wet and writhing as she taunts the worst of yourself out of you.

she sinks inside and carves out the cave of your cunt, curling her fingers until your hips arch off her lap. she takes the invitation and readjusts, shifting until she’s supporting your hips in the air, and tucks her face into your thighs. bites and nips and searches the skin, leaves behind proof of herself in little tugs of teeth and wet kisses—and she’ll find nothing inside but your climbing greed, humping her mouth and whining sinfully, begging her to take you for all you’re worth.

she drinks, feverishly. as if your greed were the best thing she’s ever placed on her tongue.

sevika groans inside you, kisses and laps your cunt sweetly. your hand finds her hair, sinking your fingers inside. you tug harshly as her tongue begins to work faster and she makes a low, rough noise in response. her name warbles off your mouth, rolling your hips up off the bed to meet her. her tongue flickers back and forth and up and down, sinking and sucking. your begging begins to sound more like babbling, and her hand comes to rest on your stomach as she drags your body in closer.

you’ve lost comprehension—your mind is hazy and you’re slipping, reaching out for something, just on the horizon.

your thighs clamp around her head when your orgasm whispers against you, swelling tightly—

she murmurs into you, there you go, baby, give it to me, and that completes your search. with her tongue she presses you back into yourself, and you wail outwards as the crash overtakes you, seizes your body and squeezes till you’re shaking and shuddering.

you collapse. your limbs are jelly, twitching at her touch—

and she hasn't pulled away. your body cringes away from her tongue, still gently kissing and rolling your clit.

“sevika, wait,” you pant, as discomfort and pleasure swirl together. “too sensitive.”

“sevika, it’s too…” your head tips back, rolling into her mouth again. she supports your hips with her arms wrapped underneath—rises to peer up at you, the beginnings of a shit-eating grin flitting at the corners of her mouth.

“hmm?” she asks, a question she already has the answer to, as your glistening cunt reaches towards her.

“no, dont—don’t stop.”

“thought it was too sensitive?”

“sev, fuck,” you reach down, leafing fingers through her hair, guiding her back down, “please.”

her lips curl against you—a private smile, just for the two of you, and it guides the pleasure back as she sinks inside.

she takes until you’ve got nothing left to offer. your body is heavy and spent, and when you kiss her and cup her face in your hands she holds your wrist, tender, soothing your back with her thumb.

wrestling her clothes off takes little convincing and a little laughter, and you reach down and let your fingers play at her pants zipper, slip your hand beneath as she watches you, lids low. her brows pull and she intakes a breath when your fingers brush her fuzzy lips, spreading to feel the pool that’s amounted there.

you glide your fingers along her. she just barely ruts forward into your hand, eyes disastrous, grip on your waist tight. “you’re this wet just from getting me off?”

sevika makes a small, breathy noise, and her voice comes out tainted. “what can i say. the sounds you make are something else.”

“‘cause you make me feel good,” you murmur, slipping a finger inside. her eyes flutter shut, lips pressing together, before parting to pant.

“that right?”

“don’t swallow it,” you say, watching her face contort when you pick up your pace, when you slip in another finger. “you sound beautiful. can i hear you, too?”

₊⊹

you pick sevika’s glasses up from her bedside, and push them onto her nose. she asks if you have work tomorrow—promises to walk you there, and you wave her off.

butterscotch invades your senses when you rest your cheek on her chest. it’s all over you, too, she’d scrubbed you down and warned you that you’d smell like it for maybe the next three days. you couldn’t imagine a better predicament if you tried.

“i want to be haunted,” you push the words into the quiet, when her breathing has evened out to a near stalemate. she shifts, the only indication she gives that she’s listening. “i want to tell all the people i’ve ever loved that i hope they haunt me. but i waited too long. they won’t know that i wouldn’t mind.”

“i think they know,” sevika turns her head to peer at you. “you should hear yourself. i think they’re doing a fine job.”

“do you enjoy it? being haunted?”

she’s quiet. her brows lower, she works her mouth.

“sometimes,” she admits, quiet so as to not disturb the unretrievable. “when it gets bad enough it’s like they never left.”

you tip onto your stomach, sprawled across her. reach over and spread her fingers out, slide forward the length of your hand until they seal together. the angle is awkward but the effort is earnest. she’s warm, like a living thing. it’s all that matters.

when her eyes glance upon you, shiny gloss in the dark, you don’t think you’d mind being a compass.

you tug, and point eastward, outside the bedroom. leaving is the first step.

“come.”

the door is always open. go.

“come. let’s go clean up your ghosts.”

you plant your feet on the cold hardwood, right first, shiver against it, resist retreat; and then settle the left. push off the bed, and trust sevika is following behind.

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nonasuch · 5 months ago

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Miss Universe National Costume 2024, Part 2!

Splitting this off into a new post so I'm not clogging up everyone's dash quite as much.

Miss Malta is some sort of environmental protection Sailor Scout. I think the giant bow would look better on the back of the skirt but otherwise this is solid.

It has just come to my attention that I skipped over Miss Albania and several other A/B countries, back at the beginning. I sincerely apologize! She went to all this trouble putting together a Fifth Element cruise ship passenger costume, and I nearly missed it.

Miss Armenia, in what even I have to admit would be a legit Princess Leia fit.

Miss Bahrain, adding some green to her Gold And Vaguely Historical look, along with what is either a comically large prop chalice or an upside-down lamp.

Miss Bangladesh appears to believe that adding two plush tigers from the toy store around the corner from the pageant venue will conceal the fact that she is just wearing a tiger-print evening dress. Miss Bangladesh is incorrect.

Miss Belgium. Girl. No.

Miss Belize let the seventh-grade art class do her whole costume, which was a bold choice.

Okay, I think that's everyone I missed! Back to alphabetical order. And I should have to rely less on shitty screenshots, now. Some countries were benefiting from the low resolution, tbh.

Kind of feel like Miss Maldives had a luggage mishap and she's just wearing the outfit she packed for a slightly dressy dinner.

Miss Martinique's costume would honestly have looked better in the shitty screencap version. The construction is... bad. It's bad.

Feel like we're in a little bit of slump here. Miss Mauritius did not stick enough butterfly appliqués to her gown to conceal that it is, in fact, just a regular evening gown.

Slump officially over! We are so back. Everyone say thank you, Miss Mexico.

I would like this better if it had just committed to the giant skirt and not felt the need to make it a Sexy Miniskirt look. Sorry, Miss Moldova.

Miss Mongolia wanted to stand out from all the other gold armor on stage, so she decided to a) wear cooler armor and b) bring a bow and arrow instead of a sword. Great work, Miss Mongolia.

Starting to feel like I'm picking on the smaller countries that probably don't have a huge pageant culture or the budget for really elaborate costumes, but on the other hand Miss Montenegro's costume is super low-effort AND the fabrics look cheap, so what am I supposed to do?

Okay, this looks like a pretty standard Miss Universe Sexy Bird, yes? Well, THIS is how Miss Myanmar entered the stage:

She had to fight her way out of that thing! God only knows what the visibility was like in there.

I think the hat is doing most of the heavy lifting to keep Miss Namibia's costume from being Just An Evening Dress, sadly.

Oh, yikes. It's more obvious in motion but Miss Nepal's bodice looks like it's made of craft foam and it fits real weird. The rest of it looks a little like she got together with Miss Cyprus and a pile of tablecloths for a sewing bee last night, I'm sorry to say.

Miss Netherlands has chosen a Tribute to Delft. I think if I were in charge of this costume I would do a much fuller skirt that falls from the waist, instead of the weird trumpet-skirt-with-hoop we've got here. And, obviously, I would make the windmill on the bodice actually spin.

It looks like she's having some issues keeping the wings and peplum in place, but I really like Miss New Zealand's costume from a design perspective. It at least slightly resembles the bird it's supposed to be (New Zealand fantail) and I think the feather pattern is meant to be in a Maori art style.

Miss Nicaragua is a Sexy Cathedral, which I think might be a Miss Universe first and is definitely a big old step closer to drag.

Okay, pausing here to get the next batch ready.

#miss universe national costume

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cheswirls · 2 years ago

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i started this ml sketch back in 2021 and have successively redone it so many times since and i think..... fingers crossed!!!!!! that i like this version from last night enough to maybe color or do something past sketching at least

#god this was part of the ml set i did back in the fall semester when i did those poni canyon studies #mind you this was also back when evolutions was airing and i was obsessed w ml again #one of those was a ship meme that i did lineless headshots for instead of inserting old art #i only did moon but maybe ill finish lillie so it's “completed” or smth #the other i think were the fullbody refs and maybe one of them was colored neither lined tho #anyway it's all old art so i doubt itll see the light of day but maybe i can retouch n drop a new ml set here #if i post this recent one it won't be alone plus ive been waiting to post abt the fks until i had a set done #god if i get this theoretical intro ml set done i could post sm old art **that i actually still like #im rly adverse to throwing fks into the parents ship tag on their own these days but ive had an old sk #of lillie + the kids for so long that i could use bc the intro set was gonna have /smth/ w both of them #together w either moon or lillie #the problem is i say ill post a bunch of art at once then get impatient n do one by one #or n e v e r finish the full set and nothing gets posted #haha at my pmshi set w the fullbody fk refs ive had done for literal yrs now that will never get posted ever anymore #anyway i rly do love ml so much it's honestly my fav gameverse ship now and i rly need more #content on here made by me so everyone else knows im down bad for them #the fks were never supposed to be a secret per se i am jus rly bad at completing full sets #anyway!!!! point is maybe future incoming ml art on here i am slowly making progress

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nights-at-crystarium · 3 months ago

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Okay the number of new followers reaches critical mass, which makes me anxious to show around, what's this place, what I'm doing here. Hi and welcome to the gay gremlin zone o/

My main thing is Fragments, a wolgraha/wolemet comic that takes its sweet time. Launched in 2022, it has enough script to last for a good decade. It updates every other friday. It's written first and drawn second, meaning that I pay great attention to pacing, themes, characters etc. It's not a 1:1 msq retelling, the canon divergence grows over time. My fresh approach and the dialogue quality start to slowly gain critical acclaim if you ask around.

Also I'm an edgelord, therefore the soft and silly scenes sit next to dark and angsty ones.

I'm mainly writing this because my recent Alisaie art brought in a veritable crowd, she's a major character in Fragments too! She starts out wrestling with a crush that only causes problems to everyone, eventually gets over Vivi, grows into a proper friend and finds a woman she likes. That can't happen overnight, and it's a mere subplot, so I suggest enjoying it as a part of the course instead of expecting it to be the main dish.

Fragments is a work for a mature reader capable of thinking for themselves. The thing I cherish the most in ShB is moral ambiguity, and I'm further expanding upon it by showing every mc's pov and refraining from making judgements.

If that sounds fun to you, take a seat and watch this local elf hurt everyone including himself.

Read Fragments on tumblr or webtoon!

The stuff I post aside from the comic is random art, when I take a break from drawing The Big Thing by drawing something else, I strive to reset my brain and do something different, like painting or animation. I also yap and shitpost to my heart's content.

There's always someone who missed the thing I posted a week or a year ago, so I self-reblog a lot. I encourage and appreciate it when people take the initiative and interact with my old posts!! Feel free to binge-like or reblog EVERYTHING. Here are a few fun tags to start: wolgraha | wolemet | feo ul | alisaie

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porcelana-r0ta · 2 years ago

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let the mourners come

Title: let the mourners come

Ao3 Link: Only available to Ao3 users

Word Count: 3045

Summary:

It started, as most things do with Danny Fenton, as a joke.

It ended, as most things do with Jazz Fenton, with things better than they were before.

xxXxx

When Danny finally gets a Twitter, it’s during Elon Musk’s shit show takeover. He’s able to secure a good Twitter handle thanks to people leaving en masse and fleeing to Tumblr. He knows about things that happen outside of Amity Park (he is terminally online rather than chronically, after all), but he still doesn’t think anything of using @TheJoker as his handle, even knowing about Gotham City’s clown troubles. It’s just going to be a shitpost account, anyway, one that dances in the chaos of Elon’s electronic graveyard. Nothing will come about him using @TheJoker when he’s merely posting things like, “Just grew a new row of teeth!!! very pointy but can’t go to the dentist anymore bc they might turn me in to the giw.”

So Danny honestly never foresaw The Actual Real Joker breaking out of Arkham Asylum all the way in Gotham City, New Jersey, and deciding to get a Twitter account to terrorize people online as well as offline. And he definitely never foresaw The Joker @’ing him on Twitter, demanding that Danny change his Twitter handle. But, well. Here he was.

[Image Description: A screenshot of a Twitter reply chain, starting with the real Joker @'ing Danny's Twitter account, which uses TheJoker as his Twitter handle. The Joker, who has a verified account, demands that Danny "change your handle", and Danny replies with a simple "no" followed by red heart emoji. The Joker Tweets, "Kid you don't know who you're fucking with," to which Danny replies, "Ye I do ur some dude w/ poor fashion sense and lame jokes. Maybe try badjokesbyjeff bc originality is ugly on u" followed by a shrugging emoticon. The Joker responds, "Check your DMs." Danny then responds, "Perf [happy emoji surrounded by hearts] I've sent you a time and place. Can't wait to beat the shit out of another disgrace of a clown." Someone with the username "Gregg rulz ok" responds to Danny's last Tweet, "Bro is absolutely RATIOING the joker but the clown keeps responding [three skull emojis] embarrassing frfr too bad he's gonna die for realsies".

End ID]

Danny is quick to respond and then makes even quicker work of roasting The Joker. This soon results in The Joker DMing him his IP Address and a creative threat. Still, Danny isn’t about to cow to a clown with no respect for the art of clowning. He replies to the DM:

Cool, meet me at the Nasty Burger parking lot in Amity Park IL on tuesday at 2am

The response from The Joker is quick:

Fourteen year olds are too confident these days

Danny rolls his eyes and ignores the influx of notifications from Twitter, and instead makes another Tweet.

Imagine beefing with someone over a Twitter handle lol acc so embarrassing for him

He blackens his screen and stretches in bed, letting his spine pop more than what is humanly possible. He runs his tongue over that second row of teeth, his lips curling into a grin.

xxXxx

Gothamite Twitter is blowing up over The Joker’s social media beef with a faceless shitposting account. Jason, upon finding out about it, has a series of reactions: first, he looks up the shitposter and follows them. Then, he finds the actual chain between the poster and The Joker, and his vision goes vibrant green when he sees that The Joker’s profile picture is of the second Robin, beaten and swollen in an abandoned building in Ethiopia.

When his vision clears and he can breathe without wanting to kill, he likes the shitposter’s replies, and he calls the Replacement to see if the other Bats know already.

“We know,” Tim says in lieu of a hello when the ringing cuts out. “We’re working on it.”

“What, you think anything’s gonna come of it?” But even as Jason asks, he already knows the answer. The Joker is unhinged and once he’s threatened something, he’ll follow up unless he comes up with a “funnier” option.

Tim’s breath hitches, and he says, “I’ve hacked their DMs. Joker knows the kid’s IP address and sent it to him. He knows everything from that address alone.”

He pauses in the middle of suiting up, “Kid?”

He hears Tim swallow, “Yes, kid. He’s fifteen. And he gave The Joker a specific time and place to meet up to fight. In his own hometown.”

“Are— are you fucking kidding me?”

“No. B is already calling Nightwing. We’re taking the Batwing to Illinois.”

“Jesus fuck. I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Hood, I—”

“Shut up, I’m already in my gear.” He hangs up without waiting for a response.

He refreshes the Twitter feed and barks a laugh at the newest Tweet:

Jason Todd votes, and the Red Hood leaves his safe house.

xxXxx

A commercial flight to Illinois takes around two and a half hours. In the Batwing, they get there in an hour, and don’t even have to worry about the drive from Chicago to a small speck of a town like Amity Park. They spend the quick flight learning everything they can about Daniel James Fenton, the owner of the Twitter account, and they can all sense the growing tension from (and between) Bruce and Jason.

But, well. Jason doesn’t care. Let them be uncomfortable. It doesn’t compare to being ripped back into life and finding out his dad didn’t even get justice for his death.

When they reach town, it doesn’t take long to find the Fentons’ home. This is in part because Amity Park is a very navigable town, and because of the giant neon sign proclaiming FentonWorks on the side of the building.

“Is that a blimp?” Dick asks. “Why don’t we have a blimp?”

“Where would we keep it?” the Demon Brat counters practically. “Goliath takes up all of the Cave’s extra space.”

Jason rolls his eyes and knows veins would be popping out of Bruce’s forehead if it weren’t for the cowl.

“Let’s go,” Bruce says instead, and they all make their way to the house.

Nightwing, predictably, goes for the front door approach. Jason rolls his eyes as he takes one of the second-story windows and finds his way downstairs.

He gets down at the same time that a redheaded girl answers the door and nearly slams it in Dick’s face. Jason has to suppress snickers at the sight.

“Wait, wait, wait, are you Jazz Fenton? We need to talk to your brother!”

“...We?” she asks, then tenses and turns around to see the rest of the Bats in the hall behind her. Dick takes the opportunity to step in completely, closing the door behind him. “Wha— what’s going on?”

“Where are your parents, Jazz?” Bruce makes every question sound like a demand. Jason rolls his eyes from behind his mask—way to put the teenager at ease, B.

“Why do you need to know?” Her voice has a defensive edge to it. “What do you want with Danny?”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Nightwing comforts. “He didn’t do anything too bad, just said some dumb things online. It’s not his fault.”

This relaxes her, and her shoulders begin un-hunching. “Oh, s-so what’d he do?”

“He foolishly challenged The Joker to a battle in a ‘Nasty Burger’ parking lot tonight.”

“You could’ve had some more tact, Robin,” Nightwing scolds. But the Demon Spawn just crosses his arms.

“He did what?” Jazz shrieks. “Like, The Joker from Gotham? That Joker?”

“Are there others?” Red Hood comments dryly.

Her face goes through several different emotions—disbelief, rage, fear, and then rage again, “DANIEL JAMES FENTON! GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!”

There’s a thumping noise, and then frantic footsteps down the stairs.

“Wha? Who died?” asks the figure of a tiny fifteen-year-old, smaller than even Jason had been when he was alone with The Joker. He’s tiny and lanky. Zero muscle definition. Eye bags to rival the Replacement’s. Something ripples in the Pit, deep and distinct, but he can’t name what causes it.

Oh, this kid is so dead.

“Danny,” says Jazz calmly while Danny blinks uncomprehendingly at the heroes in their hallway. She is solemn when she says, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to kill you now.”

“What did I do?”

She stares at him, “Why have you scheduled a fight with The Joker?”

“Oh, that.” He rubs the back of his neck, “Is he taking that seriously?”

“Of course he is, Danny! It’s The Joker! That’s what he does! He can’t differentiate between a joke and reality! He would tear off his own face for the bit!”

“Oof,” is all Danny can muster. He digs his phone out and starts typing before Jazz yanks it out his hand.

“You’re fucking TWEETING about this?” Jazz asks incredulously, and Hood’s hackles rise. She even reads the Tweet aloud, “‘Just found out @TheJ0ker is being fr about fighting me. Sad but i can take a clown.’”

“I was gonna add ‘i’ve done it b4,’ but like the letter and the number four. But yeah.”

“You’re grounded forever.” Danny opens his mouth to protest, but the look Jazz cuts at him is so scathing that he shuts his mouth. Hood is reluctantly impressed—she had what could be cultivated into a fantastic Batglare. She pockets the phone, “You’re never getting this phone back. Taunting The Joker to Amity? Have you any brain cells? What if he brings Joker gas with him, huh? Or any of his goons? What if he starts hurting other people? Have you thought any of this through?”

Danny’s face goes from tired to chastised, his lips drawing into a frown, especially at the mention of other people.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t think that he’d take it so seriously.”

“He sent you your IP Address.”

“I thought that was just a random string of numbers?”

“Oh my god,” Jazz despairs. “Oh my god. Grounded forever. See, I know you're lying to me. I know you're lying because Tucker, the nerdiest tech nerd to have ever been born, is your best friend.”

He rubs the back of his neck, “I tune him out?”

“You’re still lying to me?” Jazz scoffs and turns to Batman, “Do whatever you want with him. I’m not going to defend him from this.”

“Hey!” complained her brother, but Batman just continued on, “Where are your parents?”

“They’re in Sweden for a science convention,” Jazz answers. “They left this morning.”

Damn, Jason curses to himself.

“Jazz, seriously. You’re not gonna let Batman kill me, right?”

“Do you want to be cremated or buried, Danny?” Jazz asks blasély, and Danny gulps, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes.

“It’s my Twitter handle,” he mutters petulantly, and Jason can’t believe the gall of this kid. Or maybe stupidity. Audacity’s a good one, too. “If he wanted it, he should’ve gotten it first. And he gives clowns a bad name.”

“Not the clown thing again.” Jazz digs her palms into her eyes, sighs, then turns to the heroes. “He has a whole clown thing ever since Circus Gothica came to town and robbed a bunch of jewelry stores.”

Danny gestures wildly with his hands, as if demonizing clowns was the real problem and not the egomaniacal mass murderer who wanted to murder him for his Twitter handle, “Clowning is an art form, Jazz, and people like Freakshow and The Joker make a mockery of the very serious societal statements that clowns make!”

All of the Bats very carefully Did Not look at Nightwing, who has made very similar rants on quiet patrols.

“You are never leaving this house again,” she says serenely. “And I’m unplugging the wifi router.”

“You would punish even yourself?”

“Oh, little brother. I would watch the world burn if it meant knocking sense into your thick skull.”

“Okay, Christ,” Red Hood finally interrupted the siblings’ melodrama. An unyielding redheaded girl and a mouthy black-haired, blue-eyed boy? They’d fit in a little too well back at the Manor, so Jason needs to cut this shit out before Bruce’s bat-doption instincts start tingling. “Stop. Just… Christ. Stop. Is this how you always interact with each other?”

“Sometimes there’s explosions,” Danny pipes up, a cheeky grin on his face.

Jazz doesn’t dispute it.

Fucking hell. God damn it. I can’t. I just can’t.

Batman doesn’t give anything away, “Robin and Red Robin will be staying here with you until Nightwing, Hood, and I apprehend The Joker. First, we’re going to check the perimeter.”

“Oooh, I get to give the lab tour!”

Lab?

“No lab. You’re grounded. You’ll only be in there for cleaning duty now.”

“Wh– hey! No fair!”

“What’s this lab you two are talking about?” Red Robin asks before Jazz can rip into her brother again.

She sighs, “Our parents’ lab. I’ll show you, but someone needs to stay with Danny.”

“You act like I’m gonna run off and start World War III….”

“I wonder why,” she says sarcastically.

Batman nods to Robin, who nods back, and the rest of them follow Jazz out of the living room to a metal reinforced door. She types in a code—Jason catches the numbers 03-14-99. There’s an assenting beep, and she opens the door, flicking on the lights and leading them down into what is apparently a basement lab.

A stone settles in Red Hood’s stomach, cold and heavy.

The basement is large, likely the floor size of the entire building. There are several work tables, filled with miscellaneous blueprints and spare parts and weapons and tools. Against the farthest wall is another armored door, but what draws Hood’s—and the entire Batclan’s—attention is the south wall, where a circular hole in the wall was glowing a toxic Pit green.

The stone shattered in his stomach, splintering into his body. Is it harder or easier to breathe? Jason can’t tell.

“Wow,” says Nightwing. His voice is cheerful, but Jason can feel the stress beneath it. “Do I even want to know?”

Wasn’t this supposed to just be typical Joker bullshit?

“Our parents are ectobiologists,” Jazz explains nonchalantly, walking further into the lab. “As in, ghost biologists.” She pauses at one of the work tables, picking up a green and white thermos. Pretty boring, considering the rest of their surroundings.

“Ghosts.” Red Robin’s voice is carefully neutral.

“Ghosts,” Jazz reaffirms. “I know. I thought they were crazy at first, too. But I can prove it, if you like.” Then, without waiting for a yes or no, she untwists the thermos, and there’s a bright flash of white, and a whole entire body sprouting out of it.

“WHOO! I’M FREE!” cries the…being, pale and floating and lanky and entirely too big to have fit into a fucking thermos, of all the fucking things. “....And not in the Realms? Wait.” He stops stretching, descending to rest closer to the ground, but still hovering a few inches from the floor. He’s got green eyes and lifeless (ha) blond hair. He’s wearing a trenchcoat and a green skull necklace. Overall, he looks like the type of thug he’d arrest in the Bowery.

“Hello, Johnny.” The man’s—ghost’s?—eyes flicker around each person in the room, his gaze becoming more and more confused and panicked as he takes in each Bat, before settling on Jazz Fenton.

“Why are the fucking Bats here?”

“The Joker’s coming to Amity,” she says. The ghost’s eyes widen. Jazz tilts her head, “How many ghosts would you say passed away in Gotham, Johnny?”

As Jason and the Bats tense, this Johnny guy lets out a wicked laugh, “Oh, Doll, you have the best surprises. Why did we break up?”

“You did try to have my body possessed. That ruins any good relationship.”

“Man, but Kitty’ll love this. Thanks for letting me out of Soup Time, Doll.” He floats higher, “Any advice?”

She throws him the phone she’d confiscated from Danny and he catches it easily, “Everything’s on here. Have fun.”

“What exactly are you planning?” Batman scowls.

Johnny laughs, “Aww, don’t worry, Bats. Peace and love on Planet Earth, or whatever. We’ll make it quick.” Then, as the Bats leap into action as one, Johnny turns invisible, the Batarangs passing harmlessly through where he’d once been floating.

“Where did he go?” Batman turns his scowl, angrier than ever, to Jazmin Fenton, who stares back unflinchingly. “He’s going to solve the problem.”

“You mean he’s going to kill The Joker.”

She shakes her head, “Oh, no. That’d just be asking for him to come back as a ghost. Could you imagine a Joker with powers like invisibility, intangibility, flight, and more? Johnny can be impulsive, but he’s smart. None of them will kill The Joker.”

“Then what are they going to do?” Red Robin asks.

“My parents are ectobiologists,” Jazz repeats from earlier. “But I am more of an anthro-ectopologist. I am concerned with the study of ectoplasmic beings’ societies and cultures. And while it is very ancient, there is protocol in the Infinite Realms—that is, where you go when you die, should you remain after death—to prosecute living criminals who have killed a certain number of Realms citizens. So you don’t have to worry about your moral code, Batman. The Joker will be tried by a much fairer court than Gotham can ever hope to have. No offense.”

Jason stares at Jazz Fenton, who he’d pegged as the sane sibling. He’s not so sure now, but he can’t say he hates it.

“And how do we know it’s a fair trial?” Nightwing asks.

She waves her hand, “Oh, as Gotham’s Knights, you’re key witnesses. I’m sure you’ll be summoned to testify. You will see then. And don’t worry about your secret identities—the dead don’t care much for that sort of thing.”

“So if this is a ‘fair’ trial or whatever, The Joker’s going to be locked up forever?” Jason asks. “I mean, that’s the only option for shit like him.”

Batman sends him a look, but he ignores it.

“Well, there are several different punishments that could be deemed appropriate, but he’ll never be able to set foot in the mortal world again, yes.”

Jason Todd grins, “Oh, I’m glad your brother’s stupid, kid.”

She sighs, long-suffering, “Well, that makes one of us. Still, there’s more important things we should discuss now that you’re here.”

“More important than The Joker trying to kill your brother over a Twitter handle?” Red Robin asks doubtfully.

Jazz smiles, sharp and dangerous, and asks, ”Have you ever heard of the Anti-Ecto Acts?”

xxXxx

Several months later when Danny is finally un-grounded, he Tweets his last three Tweets before Twitter can become the foolishly named X:

Imagine bullying the Joker so hard that it not only lands the Joker in ghost prison BUT it also leads to major law reform in the US lmao someone make the domino effect meme about this pls

Y’allre replying to me with thanks like i did anything other than be an internet troll. My sister literally manipulated local, federal, and interdimensional law so you should be thanking her.

i just a babie 🥺🥺🥺

xxXxx

Thanks for reading! This is the whole fic, so pls do not ask for tags! Thank you :)

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #danny phantom #danny fenton #jazz fenton #jason todd #batman #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #the joker #johnny 13 #severely ooc

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so-i-did-this-thing · 3 months ago

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im sorry this might not be the place to ask for advice/help but im doomscrolling about the news and the soon to be president and im seeing so much to be scared shitless about, invasions, removal of vaccines, cost of living increases, revoking of trans rights and how it might make it all the more impossible to get the surgeries i wanted... its just too fucking scary to breathe right now what do i do with myself

Hey, Anon. I'm here. A lot of us are here right with you.

It's scary, to be sure. And I'm not going to sugarcoat the possibilities of things going south very quickly. So, let's jump into some survival tactics.

This post on burnout is a great place to start. There is a lot of overlap with burnout and the anxiety you're feeling.

Allow yourself to slow down and unplug. You are allowed to step away from the news cycle -- events out of your control will unfold regardless.

Don't feel guilty by letting yourself relax. I find it especially helpful to do activities that don't involve the internet -- I've been decorating my house, mending broken crockery, and sketching some embroidery ideas. I try to take the time to get dressed and groomed every day, to remind myself that I matter. I spend more time outdoors.

As you find the ability to relax, you'll be able to focus better on the things you can do to be resilient. Things I have been doing to improve myself and make me a better helper:

Staying on top of my medical appointments and any preventive care I can do

Working to be physically healthier overall to mitigate future medical issues

Getting all my paperwork in order, including passports

Tweaking my financial budget

Researching what estate & family documentation needs to be done to protect my relationship in case my marriage gets dissolved

Brushing up on job skills, getting new certifications to stay competitively employable

Stocking up on my medical and general emergency supplies, especially for bad weather events

Getting in the habit of mindful purchases, curbing my habit of impulse shopping

Selling things I don't want or need anymore to have a little extra money and be able to move house easier, if need be

Building a habit of fixing/maintaining my possessions instead of trashing broken things

Canceling online subscriptions and quitting social networks that make me feel in danger

Getting my personal and any queer-related files out of the cloud and onto redundant solid state drives

Downloading / printing out queer resources and buying queer art that may be banned or monitored in the future

Enjoying physical media again and hunting for old favorites

Keeping in touch with queer friends and allies and making plans in case people (even myself) need to flee

Being visible when I can and knowing when it's best to lay low

Allowing myself the luxury to dig into things Old Me would have saved for "special" events -- aka, wearing the nice clothes and eating off the fine china as an everyday thing

Shutting the fuck up, especially online, when I think my words could be used against me

In a way, I am trying to simply become a better version of myself, one who is calm & self-sufficient, mindful about his actions, and available to help those in need. It sucks that the driving factor is fear, but I intend to use that fear as a catalyst to be stronger and survive.

There is a lot to be done, but there was always going to be work, new regime or not. But please, start with that burnout article so you can jump into your own plans with new hope and energy. ❤️

#trans stuff

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sigilslvt · 6 months ago

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In Too Deep • Suguru x Reader x Satoru Fic (GOOD ENDING)

☣︎ Summary: You've known Satoru Gojo for 15 years, naturally falling in love with him and ending up in a relationship. What happens when you come home from a 4 month long mission to watch your life fall apart?

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Fem Reader x Suguru Geto

Tags: fem! reader, cheating, pregnancy, parenthood, marriage, brief attempted self mutilation, ANGST, polyamory, anal (male receiving), oral (female and male receiving), collar play, smut, p in v, rough sex, creampie

WC: 12.2k

Art: yoroz_rozx13 on Twitter!

A/N: The bad ending has another few thousand words and will be posted by the end of the week, I'm gonna let you all sit with this mushiness for a bit!

Bad ending here!

You were supposed to be home from your mission next week, but had asked the elders to cut you loose early, since you’d gotten some surprising news that meant you needed to keep yourself safe. Thankfully they said yes on account of your ever-evolving skills and usefulness, which brought you to this. Home. You’re finally so close to home after 4 months. You’ve dreamed about this moment from the second you left, just aching to be in your bed by Gojo’s side again.

You smile as you lean against the wall of the elevator, headed up to the condo. Every moment that’s led to this playing through your head. Meeting each other as snot nosed 6 year olds, becoming best friends after bonding over your strength, falling in love in high school through all you both had been through, and finally marrying him 6 months ago. The past 15 years have been a dream. Your hand rests below your navel as you smile, eyes closed pulling the memories from your mind and playing them behind your eyelids like a movie.

When the elevator doors open, you walk to your door and shove the key in only for it to push open, making you raise a brow. “Why leave the door open?” You whisper to yourself. Nudging it open slowly, you peer in, hearing music playing from far in the back. “Satoru?” You call out, getting no answer. A pout forms on your face as you lock the door behind you and walk toward your shared bedroom.

The hall is littered with his clothing, making you smile to yourself thinking about how sloppy he always is when you’re away. Finally reaching the room, you open the door, seeing him sprawled out on the bed... with a woman straddling him, marked from head to toe in love bites.

“What the fuck?” The woman exclaims, turning to you and covering her breasts. Your eyes, however, are stuck on Satoru, whose expression is that of annoyance.

“Get off and get out.” He rolls his eyes as he talks to the girl, pushing her off. He sighs and walks to the bathroom as the woman runs out of your home, clothes in hand. You blink away the shock, slamming your fist into the bathroom wall as the shower turns on, watching him get in.

“Who the fuck do you think you are!? Gojo, what the fuck were you doing!? We’re married! You cheated!” You scream, hot tears falling down your cheek. Your heart is pounding in your chest, mind replaying the moment you just lived in your head again, disbelief clear on your face.

“God, you say it like I killed a baby or somethin’.” He responds sluggishly.

Your eyes widen: he’s struck a nerve. More importantly— “You’re drunk.” You spit.

“Ding ding ding!” He shouts from the shower with a giggle that would normally make your heart swell, but instead, you feel only anger. You open the glass door and stare at him in shock.

“Satoru, why...? I thought you loved me... a-after everything we’ve been through… we’ve known each other over half our lives, h-how could you just throw it all away?” You ask, broken and confused.

“I do love you, sugar, but you were gone. Y’chose the job. You left me. Y-hic-you left.” He shrugs, but the hurt in his voice is clear. Your mind goes back to the day you left. The argument you had.

He’d been trying to convince you to stay for hours. He’d pulled out all the stops— homemade breakfast, a few fuck sessions, flowers, jewelry, and even begging on his knees. He kept saying he had a bad feeling about you leaving. Like he’d never see you again. You left anyway.

“How many times!?” You shout. He looks like he’s out of it, not understanding your question. “HOW MANY TIMES, SATORU!?” You get louder.

“Too many to count, honestly.” He lazily responds like it’s insignificant.

And that’s it. Without entertaining anything further, you turn on your heel and run. Far away from the place you once called home.

You feel like you’ve been running for days before you finally reach the front door to a familiar house. You knock hard, crying and clutching your body in your own arms as if they could keep you steady. It only takes a few moments before you get impatient and move to knock again, but the door opens and your fist is caught in the hand of someone you’ve kept yourself from for three years.

“Well, well, well... long time, no see, angel.” Suguru’s low voice sounds out. He sees the tears in your eyes and frowns before tugging you inside, slamming the door closed behind him. “What did he do?” He asks firmly, pupils already constricting, grip tightening subconsciously. You wince at the pain. “S-Sugu.” You whimper out.

He lets go, backing away immediately and you rub your wrist before looking back up at him. “He cheated... he cheated and he didn’t even care, he said he’s done it a lot...” you answer his question as you let out another sob. Geto slams his fist against the wall closest to him, breaking it.

The look on his face is nothing less than pure anger, hatred even. He can’t fathom the fact that the one girl he’s ever loved is broken in pieces in front of him because of the man he once called his best friend. “I’m going to kill that fuckin’ idiot.” He starts for the door.

“YOU CAN’T!” You shout, grabbing his jacket tightly.

“Why the hell not!?” He asks, eyes darkening.

“B-because we’re... I’m having his baby...” You confess, making his eyes widen. “I need you to help me disappear. I-I know it’ll be hard because he can sense our cursed energy, but I’ll work hard to conceal mine a-and I know you can do it, you’ve hid all this time. You’re the only one I trust… please?” You ask of him.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

Toru had gone to sleep after his shower, the world around him dizzy. When he wakes the next day, the previous night comes to him in bits and pieces. He remembers you coming home early... having sex... and a shower? He sighs and calls your name out loud. This was why he hated drinking. Black outs were no fun. Piecing together reality and imagination was annoying. The headaches? Worse.

Standing up, he makes his way to the living room, seeing your bag. “So she did come home...” he smiles, reaching for it and starting to unpack for you. A few items later, he finds a long box and opens it, seeing 3 pregnancy tests that say ‘positive’. His eyes widen and he gasps, dropping them. Everything that happened the previous night now coming back to him.

He rushes to his phone and calls you, getting your voicemail immediately. He hangs up and tries seven more times before leaving a voicemail. He wanted to say you didn’t understand, he was too drunk to explain the right way. He wanted to tell you how he felt. “In a world full of people I didn’t choose to be born different from, let alone this much stronger than, I always felt alone… and then you came along. And as long as you were around, I didn’t have to remember that lonely feeling. But then you left… you left and I… please… please just call me.” he murmurs into the phone before hanging up and crying as he grips the tests again. He ruined it all. Over one stupid night. Because of him, you must think your entire relationship has been a lie.

You listen to the voicemail while waiting for Suguru to finish with a meeting here at the temple, crying silently. The plan is to lay low after this and let Manami run things on the front end so that people would think Geto disappeared. You’ll simply stay with him in his home, disconnected from the temple entirely in case Satoru checks.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

Two years have passed since d-day. You still wonder if he looked for you at all or if he’d simply moved on. Standing at your dresser, you sigh, closing the case that held your old wedding ring before turning to see Suguru playing with the babies, making your heart flutter. Smiling widely, you walk to them and kneel down, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. Your son didn’t like that very much and smacks Suguru with one of his tiny hands, earning a giggle from you. “Mafuyu!” Sugu pouts, drawing his name out like a whiny child.

Asuka hits Mafuyu back with a stuffed animal and it makes Geto bellow out a genuine laugh. Daddy’s girl. You pick both of your sweet children up and bounce them. “Y’guys wanna go to the park?” You ask, knowing they aren’t quite old enough to answer, but they’ll enjoy it regardless. You look to Suguru and smile softly. “Go ahead and get to your meeting, we’ll be back before you.” You hum before leaving.

The trip there is painless. Not often do you go out in order to avoid Gojo, so you do your best to make the most out of it, stopping to get ice cream for your babies to let their face and hands eat more than their mouths. It’s a wonder none of it flies to the front seat with you.

You take the babies out of their car seats and walk them to the area of the park that says it’s for toddlers only, letting them loose there.

You’re smiling as Mafuyu slides down the slide and into your arms, Asuka following closely behind. Your guard isn’t as high as it once was, as you’d gone so long without an issue. You simply focus on your perfect twins in this moment. “Is it really you...?” A voice sounds out behind you. You turn to see Yaga staring directly at you and the babies and your eyes widen.

“Please leave us alone...” Your voice comes out shakily, backing up as you fumble around for the twins.

“I-are you safe?” He asks, but you turn and run, unwilling to allow even that information to get out. The second you get to the car, you strap Mafuyu and Asuka into their car seats and waste no time on putting yours on before you rush home, making sure you aren’t followed.

Back at the park, Yaga texts Satoru to meet there as soon as possible. Gojo, hungover and exhausted, teleports there, tripping and stumbling over his feet when he lands. He hiccups and reaches in his pocket, grabbing a tiny bottle of vodka out and downing it.

Things have been rough for him the last two years. He had tried to find you for over a year before breaking down, knowing you wouldn’t be found because you didn’t want to be. Knowing you likely had help. It didn’t take long to find out Geto was either protecting you or with you. But he disappeared before Satoru could get any answers, too. So he became a sad shell of who he once was. Yaga sucks his teeth and smacks the back of Satoru’s head, actually making contact with it, as the white-haired drunk had stopped bothering to use his ability all the time.

“I saw her. With twins that had bright white hair like yours... I saw her, Satoru.” Yaga says, his own voice wavering. You meant a lot to him, too, after all. You, Shoko, Geto, and Gojo were all his star pupils and now you and Geto are both gone, Geto having taken a dangerous path with you likely following him.

Satoru’s eyes widen as his world lights up before him and he tears up, all his hope returning and all his questions flitting through his mind quicker than he can process them. “T-Twins…? Where? Is she safe? Where!? WHERE, Yaga!?” He shouts, distressed and crying as he clutches Yaga’s vest. The dark purple rings around his eyes are even more apparent with how strikingly bright his cerulean orbs have gotten.

Yaga sighs, feeling a fraction of Satoru’s pain. He feels pity for the man. “They looked good. Healthy. But… she ran when I confronted her. Satoru, look... I’m not the best person to get advice from, but... I don’t think you should rush head first into trying to get her back if you find her. The priority should be your kids. Always the kids.” He tells the broken man.

“Kids. I can’t believe I-I have kids... She had them...” he murmurs to himself. This changes everything for him. No more will he sit around and drown in his misery and booze. He needs to get clean. If not for himself, then for you. For the kids.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

Geto had become overprotective since the incident with Yaga. It’s been seven months and he’s still afraid Satoru will show up and try to win you back, but even more afraid that the kids- HIS kids, will be taken, too. He loves them more than his own life, there’s no way he could continue to live without you, Mafuyu, and Asuka. Not after almost three years of pure bliss. Not after he was finally the one you chose. He’d been waiting on this since you guys met during your first year of high school. Back then, he was too late. Gojo’d already had his claws in you. He’d be a fool to make it easy for the man to rip away the woman and kids of his dreams.

“Suguru?” You snap him from his thoughts, bending over and kissing his forehead, right between his brows to smooth the wrinkles there. He smiles up at you and presses a sweet kiss to your stomach in return.

“Yeah, baby...” he hums. You pout, unsure if he’s okay. Since you’d been seen by Yaga, he’s been a ball of anxiety and a part of you knows it’s because he’s worried that he’ll be left in the dust if Gojo comes back.

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere... except for the store because I’m craving pickles and salt and vinegar chips and I’ll die without them.” You joke, earning a chuckle from him. The tension in his shoulders visibly subsides and he rolls his eyes, bringing you closer to him by your thighs.

“I love you.” He murmurs and it sounds like the sweetest song you’ve ever heard. Like he’s a siren just drawing you in with every word.

“I love you. A million times more.” You say and you know it isn’t true. You know that nobody has ever loved anyone more on this Earth as much as Sugu loves you. He knows you know it and lets you go with that.

You quickly make your way out of the house, wanting to be back before the twins wake up from their nap and give their father hell about their mommy being gone. You find yourself in the store, reaching for the pickles, but having a tough time. When you finally get them, you stand up and your stomach knocks down a few jars on the way up, causing them to shatter all over the floor. You’re embarrassed, but someone comes behind you and slightly moves you out of the way of the glass. People are staring and you’re about to bend over to start cleaning it up when the person behind you speaks up. “I’ve got it, ma’am. You can keep shopping, now.” He speaks, facing toward the people staring and not you. You freeze. Satoru.

“T-Thank you.” You whisper, trying your best to be as quiet and sound as unrecognizable as possible. You turn to leave, but before you can walk away, a hand wraps around one of your arms. It’s strong. Familiar. Facing the owner, you see Satoru’s wide piercing blue eyes, the look on his face none other than one of shock and pain.

“I... you...” he murmurs. Before you know it, he’s teleported you out of the store and up to the roof. “Sug-“ He starts to speak, but you interrupt him.

“Don’t. Call me that. Ever.” You spit. You thought the anger was gone, but seeing him, it all came rushing back. You place a hand on your bulging belly, backing up from him like being near him physically pains you.

He sighs, shaking his head and backing away. “I’m sorry...” He spoke, his voice cracking.

“Bullshit.” You respond, not missing a beat, pulling a wince from him.

“You don’t understand, I was drunk, what I said wasn’t what I meant. I meant I’d done it with her that night more times than I could count. I had never cheated on you before then, I swear to you” He explains.

A harsh judgemental scoff flees from your lips. “That’s supposed to make it better!?”

He shakes his head knowing he started off horribly. “No... but… it had been a long night. You were gone... and I just wanted you. I wanted you back and all I could think about was that you left me. That I wasn’t there to protect you. That I missed you. I was so scared I’d never see you again. At some point, I’d gotten so drunk that all I could see was you! You leaving, you not being able to speak with me for months, you possibly dying... A-And she walked in the bar and she… she looked so much like you… so much so that I stupidly fucking pretended she was. I wasn’t in my right mind, I was so fucked up with anxiety and depression and I was drunk, please tell me you understand!” he pleaded.

Your eyes tear up immediately, but you blink them away. What kind of sorry ass excuse is that? It didn’t even explain why he spoke to you the way he did, but it doesn’t even matter– this was over. “No.” You verbalize the decision you’d made long ago, beginning to walk away.

He looks at your stomach, desperation clear on his face. “And what about our kids? You have to let me see them at lea–”

“My kids. They’re my kids. And Suguru’s. You lost every right to them when you decided to be a shit excuse of a man. Is that how you want someone to treat your daughter!? How you want your son to treat women!?” You roar at him, walking up to him and pushing him again and again, not even realizing he’s not using his technique. “We’ve been just fine. Sugu stepped up and he’s been an amazing father. He’d never cheat if things got rough. Never treat me the way you did when I got home. I used to spend countless nights waiting for you to come home and you never did because you’re ‘the strongest’ and you were always needed! Did I cheat? No. It’s just an excuse for you. You didn’t even have the common decency to fucking apologize when caught, you acted like I’d stomped on your parade, you make me sick.” You spat.

Satoru is crying streams of tears now. He knows what you said is true, but he’d never thought the words would come from your mouth. He at least thought he’d be able to meet the kids. His kids. He had always imagined a life with you. Four kids, a huge house, all crazy talented sorcerers. It’s so close and yet… “I ju– I wanna see what they look like... boys? Girls? Both...? Please, su– please?” He asks, correcting himself before he uses his old pet name for you, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

You shake your head and stand your ground, though your resolve wavers seeing him like this. Remembering the love you had for each other. “Leave us alone, Satoru. Or I’ll find a way to make sure you never find us again.” You threaten, leaving him alone on the rooftop, making your way down the stairwell.

You make your way home, your pregnancy cravings long forgotten, your mind only on the wish for Sugu’s loving embrace. He greets you at the door with a kiss to your stomach. “How’s the little fighter?” He asks, large hands rubbing your bump, calming you almost immediately.

“Good...” You respond, relief clear in your voice. You decide it’s best not to tell Geto what happened for fear of pushing him into doing something that may cost him his life.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

Two months have passed since leaving Gojo on the roof. You were now in the hospital. “Come on angel, you can do it... I got you... I’m here...” Suguru reassures you as you scream loudly, holding onto his hand so hard you thought you’d break it. Your torso is hunched forward, legs spread while your doctor encourages you to keep pushing.

“I... can’t...” you pant. Your body is on fire and every muscle feels like it’s being torn to shreds. Were the twins this bad? God, you had forgotten. You push again. “One more time pretty girl, you’ve got this...” he kisses your sweaty forehead. You nod and push hard one last time before the room fills with cries. You cry joyfully at the sound of your child, Sugu cutting the cord before taking them to you.

“We’ve got a beautiful girl, angel… You gave us a pretty girl…” he coos proudly, placing the baby on your chest.

“Oh... oh my God...” you cry. Her eyes are purple, like Suguru’s. “Izumi... her name... is Izumi.” You whisper, stroking her already thick black hair. Looking up at him, your eyes widen. He... that couldn’t be possible. He’s crying. You lost your breath at the sight of something you’ve never seen before. “S-Sugu...” you whimper.

He smiles and gets down on one knee. You stare in disbelief as he takes out a ring as big and bright as the moon, practically. “Please... marry me... I’m so in love with you that I can’t imagine I could even breathe without you. Let me have the honor of becoming your husband. I swear I’ll always do right by you. Always cherish you. And I will always keep you safe.” He declares, the nurses and doctor around you letting out oohs and awws.

You nod quickly, no hesitation or doubt in your mind. “Yes… God, yes, I love you so much, baby.”

The pieces are starting to fall together, but in order for all of them to fit, a large one needs to be removed.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

You stopped hiding to get your divorce with Satoru and much to his displeasure it was all done through lawyers. No contact. He didn’t try to fight it, knowing worse things would come if he did. During that time, Geto had spent his time atoning for his offenses against humankind. It took a few months for Jujutsu Society to accept him, but in this new world with so many more curses, much of them stronger than what the world was used to, they had no choice but to welcome him again and accept his help.

Now, you’re standing in front of a mirror with a wedding gown on again, the sweet sound of giggling ringing through your ears like bells. The twins are in the room helping Izumi walk, as she’d just learned to do so. You can’t even begin to believe they’ve grown so fast. The twins are three years and ten months old and the baby is finally a year and one month old. You smile as you watch them, bending down to pat their heads, the twins looking so much like Toru when they peer up at you with their pretty blue eyes. You sigh and shake the thought away.

Before you know it, Shoko’s coming into the room and telling you it’s almost time to walk down the aisle. She picks Izumi up and brings Mafuyu and Asuka to Manami so they can bear the rings when the time comes. Music starts playing and she comes to you, looking at you with a smirk. “You ready for this?” She asks, fixing a strand of your hair back to place.

“Never been more ready.” You respond, a bright smile on your face, eyes lighting up. Shoko observes the glow on your face, her heart swelling.

“I’m happy you brought him back. I haven’t told you how thankful I am, so I guess there’s not a better time. We all were there, we were all lost for a while after he defected… I didn’t think this was possible, so truly, thank you. I’m just sorry that things happened the way they did.” Her voice is apologetic and your soft smile is a welcome response, you suppose, because with that, she walks to the big doors in front of you and grabs the flower basket. The doors open to reveal the venue being entirely full and she walks down the aisle, handing Izumi flowers to drop along the way.

Your music starts to play and your hands get clammy, your mouth going dry. You feel like the people waiting for you will see your heartbeat the second you’re within sight. That worry crosses your mind and just as you start to shift on your feet, you feel an arm loop into yours. Nanami.

“Are you thinking of chickening out? Looking for a getaway driver? That doesn’t sound like you.” He teases, smiling down at you. You release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding immediately, the relief of not being alone washing over you.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” You say, feeling strong enough to move, now. Your feet carry you forward at the pace of the piano playing and Nanami keeps you steady. The second your eyes land on Suguru’s, you feel the urge to run to him, repeatedly telling yourself not to break into a sprint.

He looks perfect. Hair tied up into a bun, two strands left out on the sides of his face deliberately. He’s wearing a dark blue suit, almost black to anyone who isn’t looking closely enough, but oh you are. His smile is full, crinkling his eyes until they’re almost shut. There’s so much love in his expression that you think you may break under the weight of it all.

And then you reach him. Nanami hands you over and Sugu immediately goes in to kiss you, forgetting the moment when Nanami stops him and shakes his head with a chuckle. Your lover sheepishly grins, embarrassment clear on his face. The pastor tells everyone to sit and the ceremony begins. When it’s time for your vows, he goes first.

“When was it that we fell in love, when we were 24 or 18, maybe 10? I don't know… I don’t know because the truth is: I can't picture a time that I wasn't in love with you. I always knew you were the one that could look into my eyes and see my soul. I don't question your commitment to us and our family and I know there's nothing we can't work through. I accept you as my partner and as my best friend above all else. It's a miracle to find the kind of peace and happiness that you've given me and in honor of that miracle, I pledge before our family and friends to love, protect, and to cherish you forever." He says… and you don’t even realize the tears that are falling from the outer corners of your eyes until he’s wiping them.

And you realize he always has. Even back in high school. Whenever you were hurt out on the field or by Gojo being insensitive or by the loss of your parents, he wiped your tears. He held you. Ever the reliable friend. You think you’ve always loved him to some extent because of that. Even while you were with Gojo. No matter how that may be perceived, it’s the truth.

You smile, sniffling and chuckling. “Well, I don’t know how I’m supposed to follow that.” And your guests all laugh, but you’re only focused on Sugu’s sweet songlike laugh. "But, I’ll start with this… I look at you and I see my best friend. Your energy and your passion inspire me in ways I never thought possible. Your inner beauty is so strong that I no longer fear being myself. I no longer fear at all. I never thought that I could find someone that I could love that would love me back unconditionally. I always thought love came with conditions and pain. Then I realized that even when we’re apart, you’re always with me. I realized that you’ve always protected me, always wiped my tears. You give me purpose when I feel I have none. Without you and our little family… my soul would be empty, my heart broken, my being incomplete. I thank God every day that you were brought into my life, and I thank you for loving me."

Now, it’s Suguru that’s crying. You can see him shaking and you know it’s because he desperately wants to kiss you right now. You almost laugh, but instead you continue to cry tears of absolute joy.

When you’re finally pronounced husband and wife, Suguru wastes no time in gripping your waist, dipping you down, and kissing you deeply. You let your bouquet dangle and your other hand grips the back of your neck to keep you steady while your lips work against his, pouring all of your love into the liplock. You never expected to feel this much love after having your heart broken, but here it is. All enveloping You broke your kiss to look through the glass windows of the church and at the moon, seeing the shape of a man high above for the briefest of seconds, but not giving it a second thought as it disappears almost instantly, you thinking it was simply a bird.

Meanwhile, Toru lands on the nearby rooftop watching you enjoy your wedding and he cries and cries and cries, screaming to the sky. He can’t do it. Not anymore. He takes out the blade he’d taken from Toji after his defeat and aims it at one of the cerulean blue eyes that have defined him for so long… and he stabs it as he lets out a blood curdling scream. The world goes black soon after…

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

He wakes within four white walls three days later, a straight jacket on him as he cries, sad to see that his eye has been healed despite him trying to rid himself of the six eyes. He knows he can escape. Knows that whoever put him here knows. But, he stays put. Too tired. Too broken. He practically goes catatonic for the next six days aside from crying.

“He’s done nothing but cry your name. We had to hook him up to an IV at one point because he’d gotten so dehydrated. He won’t eat... won’t sleep unless we sedate him. I wouldn’t normally contact you about him, but we think the only thing, the only person that can get him out of this is you. He needs you. He’s sorry for what he did, I think he’s shown it enough... this isn’t the Satoru we knew. And you won’t be the woman I’ve always thought you are if you leave him like this.” Yaga tells you sternly.

You sigh, the baby in your arms and the twins holding onto your legs tightly. You look tired and beaten. The truth is, you haven’t stopped crying since hearing what he’d done. You feel at fault, hilariously enough. You’ve been telling yourself that the least you could have done was let him see his children. Suguru stands behind you and clears his throat. “You should go... he needs you... and the kids... I’ll take Izumi.” He speaks softly while massaging your shoulders, making your eyes tear up.

You give him Izumi and pick the twins up, taking a deep breath before nodding. Yaga opens the door up and you walk in, almost collapsing at the sight before you. “Toru...” you whimper, seeing his frail body on his knees in the middle of the room, just staring at the white wall with tears coming down his cheek. This isn’t right, it isn’t him. His hair is disheveled, skin pale, lips dry and cracked, not nearly as beautiful as you’d always known him to be.

He doesn’t even raise his head when he speaks. “Could tell you were here. Can always see you so clearly even when you’re not next to me. You’re just my imagination torturing me. Again and again and again.” He croaks out before raising his head, seeing not just you, but the kids. His eyes light up and it’s like his skin brightens. “Sugar...” he smiles, his heartbeat picking up. You kneel down and cry, letting him rest his head on your chest between the twins. “I’m really here, now...” You tell him. You vow not to leave again, not ever.

“I love you... I love you, I love you, I love you...” Toru sobs. You whimper softly and press a kiss to his head.

“I know.” You respond. “Here... this is Mafuyu.” You nudge Toru so he’s sitting up. He loses his breath at the sight of your son and smiles.

“H-Hey... you look like me, kid...” Toru murmurs.

You scoff and roll your eyes with a smile. “Yeah, he’s your twin. It’s kind of annoying, actually.” You pout. Oh he’s missed that face of yours. “This is Asuka.” You smile widely. Asuka hides her face in your neck, frowning at the stranger in front of you.

“Feisty like her mother. And twice as beautiful.” Gojo compliments, earning Asuka’s smile.

“These are m-our kids... ours, Toru.” You stroke his hair. “You have to get better... for them... for yourself.” You tell him, trying to get through.

“For you.” He responds, still a shell of himself.

“N-no, Toru... not for me. Our time has passed, I’m with Sugu. We have a baby girl together. But you need to be better for you. This isn’t the man I loved that I see in front of me right now.” You sigh, crying silently.

“You’ll love me if I change?” He asks. He sounds so utterly broken. You whimper and look away for a moment. Looking back to him, you take a deep breath.

“No... I’ve always loved you, Toru. But for the last three years, it’s only been as the biological father of my children. I can’t see it any other way.” You explain.

You can see that his fractured mind can’t grasp it. Won’t. “But you love me...” he smiles.

You look down at the man you once loved more than life... the man who broke you... and you sigh, knowing he’ll latch onto any last remnant of sympathy you hold for him. “Toru... I forgive you. We all make mistakes... I did when I kept the twins from knowing their birth father. They deserve to know you... and you deserve to know them.” You put the twins down, moving to remove the straight jacket, hating to see him in it. He’s so frail now. You want to break down, but he needs you to be strong. “Mafuyu... Asuka... this is Toru. He and mommy were married before mommy and daddy were. He’s... your other papa.” You try to explain without confusing them too much. After all, they’re only three years old.

Toru’s eyes light up as the twins nod and look at him curiously. It’s like they gave him strength. He reaches out weakly. “Can I hold them...?” He asks. You nod hesitantly, looking down.

“Go on, I’m right here.” You tell them. Both, walking hand in hand, walk to Toru and he scoops them up, smiling widely at them before looking at you again.

“They’re perfect.” He murmurs. You nod and chuckle as Mafuyu tugs at his hair and Asuka observes his pale face. For a split second, your heart stops and you imagine what your life would have been with him. He would have been a good father... but you love Suguru. Even if you still love Toru so deeply it hurts, you couldn’t do that to Sugu.

Suguru walks in with Izumi and sits next to you while Toru plays with the twins. You lean your head on his shoulder. “I love you, you know that right?” He asks you. You frown at his tone and look up at him.

“Of course I do. I love you too, Sugu. Always” You reassure him. He shakes his head, rubbing the baby’s back as she sleeps.

“He and I were friends, too, you know that. Best friends. It hurts to see him like this for me, too...” he murmurs, making you sigh.

“I know.” You tell him, sadly. You hate what’s become of you all. There was once a time where you were best friends, all three of you. And then when Sugu went rogue, things changed. Satoru held you closer and Sugu loved you from afar.

“I see the way you look at him... you still love him. I don’t want to take that from you. I don’t want to lose you, either.” He speaks up again, making you frown. You don’t like how this conversation is going and you try to speak, but he hushes you. “I don’t plan on ever letting you go. But... he needs you. And you need him. Someday, the kids will need him, too. Maybe... maybe we take him home and we take care of him? Maybe we… we try to be what we used to be? A-As a start. I don’t want to see you both broken anymore. Yeah, we can be how we used to be. Before I lost my best friend and my first love. Before we all broke apart.” He finishes, now letting you speak.

Your eyes are wide and you’re crying without realizing. Speechless. After a few deep breaths, you slowly shake your head. “Sugu...”

“I’ll be fine. It’s what’s best. Besides, once upon a time, Satoru and I felt for each other the same way we feel for you. It isn’t like I’ll be sidelined.” He chuckles, trying to lighten the mood.

You choke out a strangled laugh, remembering when they had their bisexual awakenings as teens– Harry Styles. “Is that… what you want?” You ask.

He shrugs, an understanding smile on his face. “I get to be with the love of my life, get to raise perfect kids, get my best friend back, and I get to see you both happy again. Yeah, that’s what I want.” He assures you, nudging you before taking your chin into his fingers and pressing a sweet kiss to your lips before you both go back to watching Toru interact with the kids.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

It’s been a week since you took Toru home with you. He’s out of clothes and needs to grab more back at his house, he told you. He had asked for you to come with so you could talk alone and Suguru had agreed, which made it easier for you to say yes. He’s gotten less delusional, taking things slow. He knows it’ll take time. You two hadn’t spoken about your relationship or touched each other other than when you bathed him when he was weakest on the first night home. He’d bulked up, honestly, he could eat for days. And he did.

You awkwardly fit within his embrace as he teleports you with him and when you both land at a familiar door, your eyes widen. “T-Toru...” you murmured, shocked to be at the place you ran from almost four years ago, now.

He nods. “I know.” He sighs, holding your hand as he leads you inside. Everything is the same as it used to be... Tears well in your eyes, the memories you both made for the 18 years you’ve known each other playing through your mind. He looks at you and shakes his head, caressing your face as he stands in front of you. “Don’t do that, please... we’re working on it, I’m going to make it up to you.” He tries to get through to you.

You shrug him off and smack his head playfully. “I’m having happy thoughts, idiot.” You smile. He chuckles and shakes his head at you, pulling you close.

“Please tell me I can kiss you.” He hums, eyes closed while his lips just hang above yours. All is right in the world while his arms are around you. You know you’ll love him forever. And yet, you hesitate. You wonder if it’s right. If it’s too soon. He rubs his forehead against yours to smooth the wrinkles that’d formed from the worry. You start to nod and that’s all it takes for him to kiss you deeply. It’s like he was taking you all in through the action, like you fuel his very existence.

You never realized how much you missed him touching you, but in this moment, it’s all you want. You feel his hands moving to cup your face, smushing you closer to him before they move to your neck, his thumbs brushing under your jaw, making you bite his lip. He hisses in response, making your core ache.

You break away from him after what feels like forever, breathing heavily. He’s just staring into your soul through your eyes and speaking to you without needing to use his voice. You know what he wants. What he needs. You kiss him slowly this time as he hoists you up onto his waist, walking you into what was once both of you guys’ room. You caress his face gently with one hand, the other in his hair, tugging at the snowy locks and earning a groan from him. Whimpers flow into the kiss as his hand comes across your ass– hard. A giggle leaves your lips when he throws you onto the bed and crawls over you. “What a macho man now, hm?” You tease him, winking.

He flashes the most gorgeous smile at you and your heart skips a beat. “Be good f’me, yeah?” He purrs. You know he isn’t asking you, so you nod as he kisses you harder this time, wedging himself between your legs. He trails kisses from your lips to your cheek, down to your neck until he stops to mark you harshly, dark red bruises a stark contrast to your normally clean complexion. Your weeping hole clenches around nothing and you get impatient.

“Toru...” you breathe out. He simply smirks as he moves to your collarbone, reaching for your shirt to strip it from you. With each love bite he leaves, your body is lit ablaze. Once he’s stripped you from your shirt to see you’re not wearing a bra, he marvels at your breasts, taking them both into his large hands, taking one nipple in his mouth and sucking on it hungrily, tonguing it while it’s in his mouth. He repeats the action with the second nipple before releasing it with a pop. He moves lower, kissing down your tummy and your breathing hitches.

Your back arches to bring your skin firmer against his feathery lips, making him press you down. “Sugar.” He warns against your skin, nipping at it harshly. You whine and bite your bottom lip, not wanting to push him further, but wanting to feel him already. When he reaches your waist, he marks both hips before removing ridding you of your shorts with his teeth, keeping his eyes locked on yours. He eyes your sodden underwear, pausing to press a kiss to the newly exposed wet spot, making you suck in a sharp breath and shudder. He laughs lowly at you as you pout, wanting him to take them off. “Say please.” He orders with a smirk. You hate that he can still read you so well, but you immediately comply.

“Pretty please... daddy...” you smirk, knowing that word makes him feral beyond reason. In an instant, he removes your underwear, spreading your thighs wide as he nibbles on the insides of both of them, marking you even more. You whimper and whine until he finally reaches where you ache for him most.

“Real cute, sugar...” he coos against your moistened folds before spreading them with two fingers and delving his tongue into your sweet core, curling it up just to get a taste. You whimper gratefully, gripping the sheets as he sucks on your clit, making your hips buck and back arch again. He moans against your skin, the vibrations from his voice adding to your pleasure.

Seeing him like this again, you can’t help but shudder. He’s so beautiful, so ethereal. All the love you’d once felt for him had already been coming back bit by bit, but it just feels like it’s flowing into you, filling you more and more by the second. You can tell he worships you. Not just in the way that he ravishes your clit, but in the way he looks at you.

He stops spreading your puffy folds to bring two fingers to your entrance, plunging them deep into you and curling up, wanting to bring you to the point of no return before finally fucking you like the good girl you were for him. He’d fucked into his helpless pillows night after night after night thinking of your pussy and it simply didn’t compare. It never could. Now that he has it back, he’s sure to treat it right.

He takes his time on your cunt, finger fucking your hole and licking stripes between your folds. “Tell me it feels good. Please fuckin’ tell me, sugar.” He hums into your folds before moaning and sucking on your clit again, flicking his tongue on it once inside his mouth.

“Fuck, Toru!” You groan out, your head falling back against the bed as he devours and fingers you at the same time. He grips your thigh tighter as you shake from the pleasure, pressure building up up up in your stomach. He has other plans in mind, unbeknownst to you. You cry out, “I’m– I’m– I’m–” you begin to repeat yourself, unable to get the words out.

And then you’re suddenly void of his fingers and lips alike, making you whine in protest. He simply chuckles before he moves up, delivering a crushing kiss to your lips. You taste yourself on his warm, swollen, lips and it makes you fucking keen. You don’t even realize it when he’s pulling his pants down, just enough to free his cock out– red and leaking pre-cum. You feel his length sliding back and forth between your sopping wet folds before he shoves himself so deep inside of you, you think you’ll split. “Ah!” You hiss as you come undone beneath him from just that one thrust, your walls twitching around his length as you cum around him.

He grunts and places a hand beside your head and the other on your throat. “Such a good sweetheart, cumming for daddy in just one thrust.” He grins, making your orgasm even more euphoric. Not giving you a beat, he thrusts inside of you, every stroke seemingly deeper than the last as he progressively fucks harder and harder into your fluttering cunt. “Ahhh, fuck yeah, that’s a good girl. What a fucking good girl you are... still so fucking tight, baby.” He praises you, his hand tightening around your throat until your cries become tiny squeaks.

He buries his face in your neck, nipping at your earlobe. “God, I missed this pussy, baby, I missed my fucking sweetheart.” He hisses, his breath hitching in his throat. He pulls out of you and sits up, slapping his length against your folds and chuckling as you squirm beneath him, aching for more.

“Toruuu… put it back in…” You sigh out, pouting up at him. He bends down again to bite your bottom lip before sitting back up with a smirk.

“Don’t worry, ‘m’gonna give you what you want.” The promise leaves no doubt in your mind and you nod before he abruptly flips you onto your stomach and spanks you so hard it feels like your skin is rising in the shape of his hand. “Let’s make it a pair.” He growls, spanking the other cheek so hard it does the same. You yelp from the pain, your pussy clenching around nothing as it aches for him again. He positions his leaky tip against your hole again and props himself up, pushing himself inside of you slowly this time.

“Ohmyfuckinggod...” You moan, your face and chest red from all the whimpering you’ve done. He feels so good inside of you, it’s like your pussy has its own feelings for him. He reaches so deep into you that you think you’re going to split in two. Despite that, you’re still squirming trying to get down, down, down so stuff yourself more with him.

Chuckling at your reaction, he reaches around to grab your neck and turn your head up to look at him as he strokes into you. He kisses you greedily, moaning into your mouth. The sound of his skin slapping against yours bouncing off the walls and through the condo. His large hand pushes your face into the bed, going deeper and harder, but keeping the same torturously slow pace. You crane your neck just enough to watch yourself in the bedroom mirror as your orgasm starts building again and he doesn’t miss that. “Such a fucking slut... you like what you see, baby? Like watching me stuff you full?” He asks. When you don’t answer, he stops.

“Come on sweetheart, you heard what I asked.” He states firmly. You whine and simply offer him a nod, unable to form words quite yet. “Say it.” He spanks you and stops stroking, making your walls squeeze his length and you whine out for him to continue, fucking back onto his cock as much as you can.

“Yes, daddy, I love it, fuck!” You hiss out, earning a satisfied growl from him as he starts fucking into you again, quickly this time. You clench the sheets as the pleasure pools in your core and he can tell what’s coming.

“Squeezing so—ngh, fucking tight baby, I’m gonna cum inside, ‘kay? Want you to cum with me.” He grunts out. You moan an “Uh-huh!” before he starts railing you impossibly harder, snapping that rope inside you, making you cum around his length, squeezing so tight he can barely move. He puts all his weight onto you as he releases rope after rope of hot cum into you, filling you to his heart’s content.

It takes a few minutes before he’s finished and you’re both panting hard. He leans forward, pressing a kiss to the back of your head. “Fuck, I love you, sugar.” He chuckles. He’s missed seeing you under him like this, twitching inside you.

You look at him with eyes half lidded, on a high. “I love you, too.” You smile weakly, slumping forward. That’s when you look back to the mirror, this time spotting a figure in the doorframe, making you jump and shout, covering yourself. Suguru.

“Took you long enough, emo boy.” Toru grins over at him knowingly.

“I’ll make rainbow dragon eat you if you test me, dickhead.” He responds quickly, making you giggle. “It’s my turn.” He grumbles, making your eyes widen. He’s already stalking toward you like a lion zeroing in on its prey.

“T-the kids, where are the kids?” You ask, panicking at the thought of Suguru fucking you right now. You’re sore, but that’s not the issue. The issue is you know he’ll have no remorse after what he’s just seen. He’ll want to one up Toru.

Suguru smirks darkly and reaches the end of the bed, tilting your head up by your chin. “They’re with Yaga. Toru told me you’d be coming here. Invited me over. Figured he was up to something nasty. Tell me you want me, baby… y’didn’t forget about me, right?” He growls lowly against your lips before kissing you hungrily.

Toru clears his throat and shakes his head. “I invited you over for the both of us. We both get her.” He clarifies. Oh. Fuck. Suguru waves him off with a roll of his eyes and pushes you back down onto the bed, not paying any mind to Toru. The only thing on his mind is you. He grins as you cower into the pillows, his hands spreading your thighs.

“Sugu…” You hum. He simply sucks his teeth and slips his hand up to squish your cheeks, making your mouth open. You know what’s coming next, it’s something he does only when he wants to fucking ruin you.

“Wider.” He hisses and you comply, opening your mouth as much as you can with his grip on your face. You stick your tongue out, welcoming the fat glob of spit he delivers onto it with a dazed smile, pulling your tongue back into your mouth to swallow. You stick it out again, showing him you’ve swallowed with an “Ahhh~”

You hear Toru huff in the background and Sugu turns to him, nodding his head toward you. Toru needs no further convincing, moving above your head and kissing your forehead. Suguru undoes his pants, pulling his cock out and stroking it. Seeing it after just having seen and felt Satoru’s, you realize he’s much thicker and longer than Toru. Chills travel up your spine and you feel your core ache as you stare down at Suguru in all his glory.

That’s when you feel a strong hand grip your throat and you look up to see Satoru glaring at you like you’d done something wrong– he’s jealous. You’re about to laugh when you feel yourself being split in two by Sugu’s throbbing cock, your mouth getting stuck in an ‘o’ as you choke out a moan, brows knitting together in pleasure. His delectable double frenum ladder piercings sliding against your mushy walls so fucking tastefully. Satoru takes the opportunity to slip himself into your mouth, thrusting in in in all the way down your throat.

Geto gives you no time to adjust, using the cum Toru had filled you with to glide himself in and out of your mushy walls roughly, drilling into you like he was punishing you for having fun without him. You find yourself reaching out to try and place a hand on his abs and slow him down, but you’re stopped by Gojo, who grabs both of your hands and pins them to your chest with one hand. He chuckles down at you, propping himself up on his other hand and fucking into your messy mouth, a long groan drawing from his lips.

Geto chuckles out, looking to Satoru. “Gonna cum already? Can’t blame you. After all, I have been training her mouth to handle me and yo-ngh you don’t come close.” He hisses out between grit teeth, a teasing smirk on his lips. Just like when you were all in high school. Always pissing each other off about who was stronger, who was smarter, who was blah blah blah -er. His hand snakes up to your face, pressing your cheeks in for him. “Gotta hollow your cheeks more, angel, you know he’s not as thick as me. Should be easier to take him.” He huffs, his grip tight.

You prepare yourself to receive whatever Gojo gives you as punishment for Suguru’s teasing, but when you look up and blink away the fat tears in your eyes, you see him… struggling? His brows are knitted together in pleasure as if Sugu’s teasing has only made him more sensitive and it’s confirmed by the globs of precum that seep into your throat, the salty taste unmissable. You moan at the sight of the white-haired angel above you just ruined by your husband’s words and your mouth.

Geto doesn’t miss the look on Satoru’s face and he scoffs. “So easy. Go on, pretty girl, suck him harder. Harder. Need me to show you harder?” Sugu grunts, smacking your face twice before slamming himself harder and impossibly deeper into your reddened, swollen cunt. You cry out, the sound muffled by Gojo’s cock, making his hips stutter while he fucks his cock into your greedy mouth.

You do as told, hollowing your cheeks out even more around Satoru’s length, flattening your tongue so it glides along the top of his shaft. And before you know it, his heavy balls are resting against your nose while he twitches and releases thick ropes of cum deep down your throat. Sugu sees this as an opportunity, grabbing Gojo by his hair and making him look down at where he’s stuffed you full. “See this? Huh? See it?” He huffs out, tightening his grip on Toru’s strands to elicit a moan of an answer from him. “This is how you fuck her pretty little fucking pussy. How you own it.”

And then he’s moaning while his hips just smack smack smack into yours, bullying himself into you like a man starved until he, too, paints your walls with his cum the moment your fluttering hole signals that you’re cumming, too. He pulls out with a smirk, rubbing his still leaking tip against your clit to overstimulate you. Toru pulls out of your mouth and all three of you are left panting, with him falling beside you, curling up behind you, his heavy arm draping over your waist.

“”M gonna go pick up the kids. Just wanted to make sure you were fucked right at least once today, pretty girl.” Suguru speaks up, already redoing his pants. Toru pokes his tongue out at your dark-haired lover and you giggle.

“Bye baby.” You hum, earning a wink from him before he leaves.

You end up falling asleep for hours with Toru by your side. When you get home from your day with Toru, you smile, seeing Suguru with the kids. He’s always been such a beautifully perfect father. You hold your hands out and call for the twins. Mafuyu teleports half the distance before reappearing and your eyes go wide. You hear Suguru choke on his own saliva in the background. “D-did he ju-“ You start, but Toru interrupts.

“Hecks yeah! Up top, dude!” He shouts, high fiving Mafuyu and picking him up to spin him around. Asuka smacks her father’s leg and whines. She’s always been the jealous type, so this surprises no one. He picks her up too and snuggles her. Suguru leaves for a moment and comes back with Izumi in hand and you lean against the front door, taking in the sight of your beautiful children and the handsome men in front of you.

You’ve been blessed beyond belief. “I love you both more than my own life.” You smile softly. Suguru looks at you and notices the tears in your eyes, coming close to kiss your forehead.

“Give mommy a kiss, Zuzu.” He coos, letting the baby do a kissy face to you before you kiss her.

“Thank you, my love!” You giggle. You look to the back to see Toru gone, making your brows furrow. “Toru?” You call, walking into the living room. No answer. “Toru!” You shout again, going up the stairs and not finding him. Your heart begins to race and you look outside, unable to find your twins or the love of your life.

“Toru!” You scream at the top of your lungs outside as the wind whips around you.

“Mommy!” You hear from above and your eyes widen to the sight of Asuka falling from the sky.

“Oh my God!” You cry out. Before you can think, Toru teleports to her mid air and she giggles. You place your hand over your heart, trying to calm your breathing to slow its beating. “What. Are. You. DOING!?” You scream into the air, watching him laugh and joke with the kids. He comes down, nonchalantly shrugging.

“Teaching them how to teleport by putting them in a position where they have to.” He responds matter of factly. You squint at him in disbelief, smacking him upside the head.

“I’ll kill you the next time you take them without letting me know. Are you really that excited for their abilities to come, doofus!? What if Asuka doesn’t have that ability at all?” You sigh, taking the kids into both of your arms.

Toru laughs and rubs the back of his neck. “Of course, they’re my littlest sugars and they need to be trained well. We can teleport places all the time together, it’ll be so cool! Asuka almost had a bit of an accident because daddy has butterfingers, but all is fine here.” He reassures you.

You see Suguru relax and shake his head. “Airhead.” He shrugs, walking away.

“EMO BOY!” Satoru retorts, pouting before smirking at Mafuyu. “Who’s up for round 2?” He asks. You immediately step in.

“No sir! Bedtime it is.” You poke your tongue out at him.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

It’s been a year since you, Toru, and Suguru had gotten together as one. You wake and realize they were both being as possessive as ever even in their sleep, because they have your body slanted so that they can have you on top of both of them. You smirk and see Toru down cuddling your waist as he curls around your legs and Suguru has his arm around your chest, grabbing your boob and his head resting on yours. You can’t believe how touch starved they are sometimes. But this was how things are. Peaceful. Beautiful. Perfect.

“Good morning...” Suguru mumbles, scaring you. You raise a brow at how quickly he’d woken after you and he chuckles. “I felt your chest rise suddenly when you first woke up. You do it all the time. Like you’re waking up from a nightmare.” He hums, already aware of what’s on your mind.

You shake your head and smile at him. “Anything that takes me away from this life– my two men and my beautiful kids, is a nightmare. Good or bad.” You tell him. You feel Toru stir and wedge his hand between your thighs.

“Well, that’s nice to wake up to.” He grumbles, cuddling closer to you. You grin and raise your head up to kiss Suguru and his hand goes from your breast to your throat, keeping you there for a deep kiss. “No fair, emo man.” Toru pouts below you.

“Bite me, chicken legs.” Suguru retorts before moving to your neck. Toru huffs and moves his hand higher between your legs, reaching his favorite honeypot.

“Two can play at that game.” He smirks.

The morning goes by rather interestingly and you play it over and over again in your head as you drive the kids to Yaga’s. You walk into his home and are met with Megumi and Tsumiki, two kids Satoru had saved years ago and placed under Yaga’s ward. “Long time no see... I’ve missed seeing your face around here.” Megumi smiles at you. You roll your eyes, but he was right. In the last 5 years, you’d probably seen him once or twice. He’d grown up.

“Moms are busy bees, Gum Gum.” You tease, using his childhood nickname. Yaga walks in and the twins run to him, Izumi waddling behind them. “Thanks so much for taking them.” You nudge him as he picks all three of them up in his scarily large arms.

He nods and immediately takes them away, cooing and baby talking to them. You, Megumi’s, and Tsumiki’s eyes go wide at the sight before you and you slowly back out, closing the door behind you. The entire drive home, you think of ways to make fun of him for that later and when you get home, you were excited to tell Sugu and Toru how much of a softie their old teacher has become.

You unlock the door and walk in, not seeing either of your doofuses. Probably sleeping. When you walk into your guys’ shared room, however, you’re met with a view that will be burned into your memory for all time. “Uhhh...” you whisper into the air. And the world stops.

Suguru looks at you with an unreadable expression, Satoru’s head in one of his hands, pressed down into the bed, his other hand mid air about to spank Toru. And his cock? Buried to the hilt inside of your snow-headed lover. “Wh...” You try to speak, but you catch sight of Toru’s expression, his face red and his body sweaty beneath Suguru’s. You would have never thought you’d see this... never thought it’d happen.

“Cat got your tongue or something, angel?” Suguru asks as he rubs the flesh of Toru’s ass, slowly moving within him. Grinding. Teasing. You choke on your words and slowly back against the door hearing Toru whimper. Is this even real? How long have they even been doing this? Shaking your head, you start to turn around, but Toru speaks up.

“Wait, wait, wait... please don’t leave.” He whines, his voice worn and tired. You look at Suguru as he continues doing what he does best and then back down at Toru.

“Why?” You ask him, wary. He grunts and moans before speaking again.

“W-wah-wanna feel you, too.” He admits, his face becoming redder. Your breath hitches in your throat and you gulp. Suguru smirks knowingly and all you can focus on is his cocky smile and the wet sounds coming from their connected bodies.

“Come on, baby... I won’t bite. Much.” He winks at you, moving rougher. Your heart squeezes as you comply and remove your belongings. You step closer and closer, removing your last article of clothing as you reach the edge of the bed.

“Come here, sweetheart...” Toru coos. Suguru stops thrusting for a moment so that you can get under Toru. He spreads your legs so wide it feels like you’re going to be torn in half as Toru kisses at your neck, nipping to leave his mark on you. He pulls away and spits on his fingers, staring you in the eye as he moves his hand to your pussy, pleasantly surprised to feel you already wet for him. Your back arches up as he rubs your bundle of nerves slowly, wanting him to fill you up already so badly it hurts.

“Please...” you beg him, earning a chuckle from both Toru and Suguru.

“Your wish-“ he thrusts deep into you without warning and you cry out. “My command.” Toru finishes, smirking at the look of pleasure etched on your face.

You lose your breath feeling the sudden pleasure of being filled by him, the knowledge that Suguru is inside him only turning you on more. He begins licking and sucking on your perked nipples when Suguru grunts. “Brace yourself, my love.” He groans before forcing himself deeper into Toru, which pushes Toru deeper into you. Your walls clench around his cock and you moan loudly, wrapping your arms around Toru’s neck to keep you steady. Toru whimpers shakily at the feeling of being pleased on both ends, trying desperately not to cum already. You’ve never heard him sound like this before. Utterly ruined.

“Good girl...” Suguru smirks, pulling out and then forcing himself back into Toru. He spanks his ass roughly before holding your legs apart and using them as leverage to fuck into him harder, pulling you in with each thrust.

“Oh, fuck!” You choke out, Toru’s moans against your neck making this even more exhilarating. The way his dick twitches and swells even more within you makes you feel like you’ll split.

“Come on, baby, let me hear you again...” Suguru begs. Both you and Toru cry out as he fucks even harder, making Toru grind into you rougher. The feeling makes your mind go blank and you clutch the sheets, unable to keep yourself steady anymore with the way you’re fucked out.

Suguru abruptly pulls out of Toru, making Toru whine for his cock again before he slides the condom off, moving around to your head. He smirks down at you and leans forward to grab your face roughly. “Edge of the bed. Open wide, angel.” He directs.

You and Toru reposition yourselves so that your head hangs from the bed and you open your mouth. At the same time, Suguru and Satoru force themselves inside of you, Toru deep inside of your core and Sugu hitting the back of your throat. You cry out, but the sound is stifled by Suguru’s length in your throat, his hand firm on your face. “That’s a good little slut... take it.” He snarls, fucking your mouth hard.

Toru scoffs, getting on his knees and sitting up while he holds your thighs. He folds you up slightly as he begins to pound into you, making your weeping pussy tighten around him, the slick stringing between you two. His hand finds its way to one of your breasts, slapping it hard and pinching your nipple. “Scream for me, my bad girl, scream for my fucking cock. Gonna make you p-hah- pay for interrupting a good fucking.” He warns, moaning as he strokes slowly, but roughly into you, teasing you. You cry out at the pleasure of feeling him getting so fucking deep into you, trying your best to be attentive to Suguru as well.

You suck Suguru’s length hard as you close your eyes, feeling his piercings hitting deeper inside your throat, making you gag, your throat tightening around his tip. You open your eyes again to see Suguru and Satoru making out above you, making you squeeze even tighter around Toru’s cock. He pulls away from Suguru to moan. “Fuck yeah, milk me, baby, milk my cock...” he smirks. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your body shudders, your stomach tightening as you feel that oh so familiar feeling building up. You’re surprised when Suguru pulls out and grunts out moans as he cums on your chest, making you cum hard onto Toru’s dick.

“F-fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!” Toru whimpers out, spurting his cum inside of you deeply. You’re still shaking from your orgasm. Suguru backs up and moves to the drawer, pulling out his favorite accessory. Your collar and chain. You whimper seeing it and Toru smacks your face roughly. “Don’t whine, you’ve been such a good girl so far.” He warns you, pulling out of your leaking hole.

Suguru nods at Satoru, switching spots with him. He flips you on your stomach and pulls your ass up into the air before collaring you, gripping the chain roughly enough that you don’t even need to prop yourself up.. He shoves himself into you, making you scream out and clench the sheets. “Sugu!” You shout, only for Toru to use that opportunity to push himself deep into your mouth.

Satoru bends over and uses his fingers to collect the cum from your chest that Suguru had left, tasting it and making Suguru groan loudly. “So fuckin’ dirty...” he praises Toru, fucking you harder and quicker as the chain rattles with each thrust. You suck Toru’s cock deep into your throat enthusiastically, cock drunk moans vibrating through his length as you let them flow. Toru moans before holding your head steady so he can start thrusting into your mouth, kissing Suguru again.

The sight of them above you has your pussy twitching, making Suguru’s breath hitch. He begins rubbing your clit, making you continuously clench and release around his length the way he loves so fucking much. Toru moans above you and clutches your throat above the collar as he face fucks you, cutting off your airway ever so slightly. Your eyes tear up and your face turns red as you ascend to the greatest fucking plane of existence.

Toru grunts and sucks in a sharp breath. “I-I’m gonna!” He shouts before cumming into your waiting mouth. You swallow his hot cum and lick the remnants from your lips like a mindless slut when he pulls out, making him chuckle. He strokes himself trying to prolong his pleasure while watching you and Suguru, giving Suguru an idea.

He pushes your body down into the bed as he enters you again, grinding into you hard. “You watch him stroke that cock and take all of mine, babygirl, take. it. all.” He growls in your ear, pulling the chain leash tightly.

“Y-yes daddy!” You cry out, cumming hard at the sight of Satoru stroking his length. Your pussy clenches so tightly around Sugu that he cums immediately with a hiss. You’ve become a puddle of a mess and he pulls out of you to kiss your ass before spanking it. “Such a good girl, baby...” he praises you as Satoru bends down to kiss your lips, no longer stroking himself.

All you can do is smile in a daze, your body used and sore in ways you never thought possible.

And you spend God knows how many days in that same state. The rest of your life filled with love, family, and pleasure like you’ve never known.

#jjk x reader #geto suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #geto x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk fic #jjk smut #geto smut #gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto smut #satosugu x you #satosugu x reader #satosugu #satosugu x y/n

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sundew199 · 4 months ago

Text

The comfort of them

a/n: sort of a continuation of this thought, also just an excuse to write domestic/dad!zoro :)

tags: roronoa zoro x f!reader, post-canon, fluff, domestic, family dynamics, dad!zoro, family bliss, just cute stuff tbh Kōji means prosperous, peace and happiness. Kiyomi means beautiful

Gentle rustling of leaves against the wind silence the thoughts in his head, matching his slow concentrated breathing as he centers is mind, body and soul. Zoro had the rare morning off from teaching, no students causing a ruckus out in the courtyard as he attempts to refocus them to the lesson. Life had been so unnaturally slow since succeeding in his goal to become the greatest swordsman, deciding after years of adventure he was ready to settle down. And thank goodness you took him up on his offer, returning with him to Shimotsuki village so he could take over the dojo from his old master.

Over the years, the dojo earned itself a name, students from around the world clamoring to secure a spot to learn the art of the sword from the world's greatest swordsman. Despite his new title, Zoro was humble, never boasting or revealing who he was in the rarity someone didn't know. The fame wasn't what he wanted, never was, but knowing he fulfilled his lifelong goal in honor of his childhood friend made it easier to enjoy the life he was given.

The dojo wasn't the only thing that grew over the years, now instead of one Roronoa, there were few newly added additions. Shortly after taking over the dojo, Zoro asked for your hand in marriage, fulfilling another goal of his in making you his wife. He worried you would decline due to the new title bestowed upon him and the target that came with it, but you embraced it, taking on his last name and solidifying the missing piece to the other half of his heart permanently. Everything he could've ever wanted was right here, within his grasp and protection.

Peaking his one good eye open, Zoro took the stick of incense and extinguished the flame, concluding his routine meditation. The air wafting around him reminded him of his life out on sea, a familiar citrus and salty smell that kept those memories alive. He could admit that he did miss those times, the fun and the danger that came with Luffy being the captain, but he had something so much sweeter now.

Rising from the floor and grabbing his dark blue haori from the hook on the wall to drape over the plain black yukata, Zoro quietly shuffled out of the room and down the hall to check on everyone else living in the compound that connected to the dojo. Truthfully, Zoro wasn't fan of having such a large home for just him and you, but that mindset changed when a certain addition was added to the family.

Checking the room his boisterous son was supposed to be in, discovering it was empty like most mornings, Zoro let out a sigh and turned down the way he just came. Kōji was five now, born a year after he married you and took over the dojo and Jesus he was a force to reckon with at times. Koushirou constantly reminded Zoro that his son was just like him when he was that age, but Zoro didn't want to acknowledge that fact, at least not to his old teacher. Ever since Kōji turned five earlier this year, he's been begging Zoro to let him enroll in one of the classes he taught, having such an affinity for his father's swords and wanting to be just like him. You melted every time Kōji tried to find a new way to ask, but he was still a year too young to enroll and Zoro wasn't going to make an exception just for his son.

"Have you seen Kōji?" Catching one of the staff members for the dojo and asking if they've seen his son by any chance.

"Last I heard he was out by the cherry blossoms with a couple of practice swords." The man responded simply, giving a small bow to Zoro before slipping down another hall.

Zoro couldn't help but groan aloud, not that he despised the idea of his son wanting to take after him, but because he knew by the time he reached Kōji, he'd have a new bruise or scrape from trying to "practice".

Soft grunts and whistling of wood blades cutting through the air came into earshot, a strong willed figure with dark teal colored hair moving erratically like they were trying to copy someone else's movements. Zoro hung back for a moment to watch, unable to help the small smile seeing his son wield three swords exactly how he did.

Kōji lunged forward with a battlecry that was so muffled by the practice sword in his mouth, Zoro chuckled. Though the humor quickly disappeared as he watch his son trip on his feet and land face first in the grass with a whine and a small sob. Sighing rather loudly, Zoro made his way over to where Kōji now sat slumped with the three swords resting by his side and in front of him.

"Let me see."

Surprising the boy with his sudden appearance and hand on his shoulder, moving to hold under his chin to see the busted lip he earned from slipping face first with a sword in his mouth. Kōji frowned and almost scowled at Zoro trying to wipe some of the blood away, whining under his breath that he was fine and to let him get back to practice. Zoro laughed at his weak attempt of a declaration, scooping him off the ground and into his arms.

"Let me practice!"

"Not with a busted lip, your mother will kill me."

Kōji crossed his arms and pouted, glaring at Zoro while held in his arms, making his way back inside to doctor up the very noticeable split in his bottom lip. Zoro empathizes with his son and his insistence in wanting to learn and train, but he also wasn't going to bend the rules just for him. In the big picture, this served as one of the many lessons Zoro taught to his enrolled students: patience.

"Can't join the class and now you won't let me practice."

Zoro shook his head to hid the smile and chuckle at his son's irritated rambling, Koushirou may have been onto to something when comparing his younger self to Kōji.

"How about this?" Proposing to the boy as he sat him on the bench in the bathroom, watching his eyes light up with interest. "You can come with me to the afternoon classes today and watch the older students."

"Really? Okay!" Answering instantly and sitting up straighter with a smile that pulled at the wound in his bottom lip, causing a new trail of blood to run down his chin. Zoro smiled endearingly, wiped it away with his thumb and grabbed the damp warm rag to clean the split, holding the back of Kōji's neck to keep him still, knowing it would sting. He winced maybe once, trying to keep the little tears forming in the corner of his eyes from falling in front of Zoro. Something warmed his heart a little to see how much Kōji was trying to impress him when he didn't have to, his son didn't have to go to great lengths to impress him but still a little flattered that he did.

Leaving the bathroom together, Kōji took off down the hall to presumable go find you and tell you about getting the opportunity to join him for the afternoon classes, Zoro not far behind. Most days you hung out in the compound with the youngest Roronoa, his daughter who was just shy of turning six months old.

Finding you in the bedroom with the shojis open to let in the cool spring air, you smiled and opened your arms in an embrace to Kōji. The sleeves of your dark blue simple kimono that matched his haori, draped and engulfed around his son as you held him tightly to your chest to annoy him, pressing smothering kisses to the cheek that wasn't tightly pressed to your body. You had embraced the traditional clothing from Wano after coming here with him and after the discovery of Shimotsuki village's history. Even while in Wano, all those years ago, Zoro had an inkling that the name of this village and one of the clan's daimyo were connected and not just a crazy coincidence. And he was right, Koushirou revealing the history of this village and the connection it had to Wano, and even Zoro's connection to the Shimotsuki clan, and the direct line he had to Ryuma. Of course, both you and him had days where you wore regular clothing around, but most days comfort was found in the soft fabric of the kimonos and yukatas.

"Dad's going to let me come to the afternoon classes today!" Kōji excitedly exclaimed, sitting in your lap and looking so proud of himself. You were nodding absentmindedly to the statement, focused on the new injury your son had, brushing your thumb over the split in his bottom lip.

"Oh? Today?" Processing your son's words and looking up to Zoro who now cradled his daughter in his arms, pecking a couple of kisses to her forehead.

"Yea, just watching. Why?"

Deciding to join you on the floor, adjusting his hold on his daughter and faintly smiling as she further began to wake up from her nap.

"I forgot you had afternoon classes." Dividing your gaze between Kōji and your daughter Kiyomi in Zoro's arms.

"Yea, you can have a girls day or whatever with Kiyomi." Joking with a smile. Having his son with him during the class wouldn't be a big deal, the students attending today didn't need to be herded or watched like a hawk, all around thirteen-fourteen years old.

"Are you sure?"

"It's afternoon classes, baby, I can teach and watch my own son" Scooting close enough to kiss your cheek, letting out a little laugh to his own words and also to Kōji's soft sound of disgust at the display of affection between his parents.

There were still a few more hours left until the students would begin to arrive, giving Zoro some much needed uninterrupted time with his family. Kōji attempted to get Kiyomi to laugh by doing tricks that consisted of acrobatics, which had you gasping and clutching onto the sleeve of his haori. Having a son, that took after him, you were accepting the fact that he was going to get hurt and just not have as much care as you'd like, but you or Zoro were always there to comfort him when he scraped his knee or elbow, or hit his head a bit too hard.

Both of his children adored him, Kōji using him as inspiration for who he wants to be one day and Kiyomi always finding security and safety when in his arms, Zoro truly wouldn't trade any of this for the world.

After instructing his son to go change into the jumper worn by the students during class, Zoro hung out in the bedroom with Kiyomi while you changed to head out for the afternoon. She gurgled and cooed back at his whispers, smiling when Zoro would barely kiss her forehead and melting his heart. His daughter's hair was dark, but not black like either of you assumed when it started to thicken over time, Zoro swearing she had undertones of green like him and Kōji but you weren't as convinced, insisting it were closer to a brunette color more than anything. Only time would tell.

"Are you sure you're okay with having Kōji for class?"

Hearing your voice draw closer as you exited the room connected to the bedroom used to store yours and his clothing, looking up to see you dressed in loose fitting trousers and a blouse and smiling at how effortless you always looked.

"Yes baby, he'll be fine. Plus today's class isn't anything rigorous."

Standing up and balancing his daughter in one arm to wrap the other around you, bringing you in for a soft kiss. His calloused hand held the side of your face and brushed across your cheekbone, smiling at you in adoration.

"Okay." Whispering back and taking Kiyomi from him so he could grab his swords from the locked display in the bedroom. Rarely did Zoro ever find himself walking around the compound with them on his hip, proving over time to just get in the way, instead he chose to wear them to the classes he taught and when out and about. Taking all three of them and placing them on the futon, he went to fetch the holster for them and adjust the sash of yukata to hide the holster, not liking how bulky it looked.

Handling them each with care, Zoro secured his blades in order, securing wado ichimonji last. Taking Kiyomi back from you and leaving the bedroom together, neither of you bother to check if Kōji was in his room, knowing he would be patiently waiting for him out in the courtyard. And the assumption was correct, finding Kōji sitting at the top step with his hands in his lap and staring at the gate the students would come in.

"Say bye to your mom." Instructing the boy and smiling when he perked up to his feet to hug you around the legs, muttering a goodbye and accepting the kiss to the top of his head as you bent down.

Zoro stood beside his son, handing Kiyomi over to you after gently pressing a kiss to her cheek and muttering a hushed goodbye watching you leave, giving you a lingering look that read only of the three famous words constantly repeated.

"C'mon, we've got a few minutes until everyone gets here." Tipping his head back inside for Kōji to follow, leading him down to the same room he had been meditating in earlier. Zoro could tell his son was nothing but nerves and excitement, absentmindedly holding onto his fingers as they walked down the hall together. This would be the first time Kōji would be joining him for a class, having not been allowed to in the past. And not because Zoro didn't want him too, but because when he first started to show interest in swordsman ship, the students at the time required all of his attention and didn't need the distraction of his overly excited son there.

"Mom says you like to have sake before class, is that what we're doing?" Asking once in the room, a low table now placed in the center with a reasonably sized jug and a single serving cup. There was also tea, which was hardly touched by him ever, but allowed Kōji to partake in the little pre-class ritual of his without feeling left out.

"Mhm, helps me focus." Giving him a little smirk as he let go of his son's hand and sat on the opposite side of the low table. He poured the tea first for Kōji and then sake for himself. With a little nod, they downed their respective drinks, letting out similar sighs and placing the cups back down.

"Now, during class I want you to stay by me and listen. My students are here to learn and I don't want you distracting them." Letting his tone fall serious, watching his son's face do the same as he listened.

"Yes sir."

"Good, this will give you an idea of what it'll be like for you some day so make sure you're paying attention."

Kōji nodded again, only with a little smile now at the mention of him getting to join the classes his father taught. Zoro smiled softly seeing his son's smile, pouring another glass of sake and throwing it back quickly, knowing the students would be here any minute.

"Master Zoro, the students are arriving." One of the assistant teacher said, poking their head into the room. It didn't go unnoticed how their eyes widened seeing his son with him, but kept his comments to himself.

Zoro gave a nod, standing up, Kōji returned to holding tightly onto Zoro's middle and ring finger as he walked beside him, walking closer and closer to his side as they approached the courtyard once again. A few more glances at his son accompanying him were give by the staff and assistant teachers, and again none of them saying a thing on the matter.

Out in the expanse courtyard, twenty or so students around the ages of thirteen and fourteen stood in lines of fives, stiffening when Zoro walked through the open shoji door, standing in the center with a neutral expression. Kōji did his best not to cling to his father's side, standing tall and tightening his small hand around the fingers he held onto still.

"Begin with your stretches." Commanding in a sharp tone, his demeanor flipping like a switch now that he was teaching a class. Kōji stiffened at the new and unfamiliar tone used by his father, looking up at him and briefly smiling at the wink Zoro gave him, a little gesture of affection that soothed the nerves of his son.

All the students began the routine drilled into them from the very beginning of their enrollment, staying within their own space and staying mindful of the other's around them. Zoro let go of Kōji's hand to cross his arms over his chest, watching with a careful eyes to ensure there were no stupid mistakes being made with the simple instructions.

"Master Zoro, we know your wife left just a few minutes ago, would you like one of us to keep Kōji entertained?" An assistant teacher asked in a low voice, probably taking notice of the students wandering eyes and trying to firgure out who the young kid standing up by their teacher was. Zoro led a private life, people knew he had a family and was married but only ever saw you on occasion, some of the students completely unaware that their teacher had children.

"No. He's with me for the entirety of the class, and won't be an issue."

Firmly responding to the assistant teacher, who meekly bowed at the response, returning to where he stood a little behind Zoro with the second assistant teacher and watched the children out in the yard warm up their muscles before class.

Stretching concluded with the students standing tall with their hands behind their backs, waiting for further instruction. Zoro took a seat right where he was, Kōji doing the same, sitting in a criss-cross position, mirroring Zoro the best he could.

"Last class each of you were given a blade and instructed to care for it, by cleaning and polishing it for this class." Pausing as he unhooked a part of his holster and set his own three blades out in front of him. Kōji stared in amazement, never getting to see his father's blades this close before, subject to looking at them in the display. Carefully, Zoro unsheathed Sandai Kitetsu from the guard, holding it at an angle where the sun would catch the blade and bounce.

"Your blade is an extension of yourself, and must be treated as such." Straightening his arm out in front of him with Kitetsu facing horizontally towards the students. "Treating it just as a blade will never get you as far as you think, wielding it as an extension grants you a higher possibility of winning a match against an opponent."

Kōji was enraptured with his father's words, even if he couldn't quiet grasp exactly what he was saying it didn't negate the fact that Zoro was speaking with such passion and truth about the blade he now held vertical in front of him. Zoro glanced at Kōji, wide eyed and lost in the amazement, flashing him a small soft smile before speaking again.

"One by one you will present the blades to see if they match the standards that I keep mine." Proclaiming sternly, moving the other two unsheathed swords in front of him back to the side his holster was on, placing Kitetsu down in front of him. The students gave an in sync response to their teacher, grabbing their blades from the ground next to them and filing into a line to present the weapon to Zoro to inspect. The assistant teachers moved to help, until Zoro held up a hand for them to stop, wanting to conduct this all on his own, very particular on this sort of matter.

Kōji tried to sit up straighter, tried to exude the commanding presence of his father, despite being five years old. He watched the first student approach, bow at the waist and hand over the sheathed blade to his master. Zoro carefully revealed the weapon, holding it at the hilt and looking it over thoroughly.

"Good."

The one word response was give to the student, sheathing the blade again and handing it back, glancing at the next student to come forward. Kōji didn't exactly know what his dad was looking for, the first few looked shiny and clean from his point of view and wondered why Zoro spent longer than a few seconds examining it.

Student after student presented their blades, some passing the assignment, others coming close if it weren't for the few missed imperfections that were spotted. When they were spotted, Zoro would only frown and name what he saw, either it be a smudge of the smallest streak of leftover polish or dirt, and leave it at that. The student wouldn't necessarily fail, but they didn't pass either.

One of the students towards the end of line was next, proud smug expression written on his face when approaching Zoro, confidently passing over his sword. Kōji saw the way his dad's neutral expression falter to irritation for the briefest second, his curious mind wondering why it shifted for this particular student only.

Thumbing over the blades edge, turning the hilt in his hand, Zoro's frown deepened immensely, narrowing his gaze at the student.

"What is this?"

"The polished and cleaned sword Master Zoro." Increasing the effort on his end to keep the confidence present in front of his teacher.

"Who polished this?" Almost snapping at the student, causing Kōji to jump a little while watching the interaction.

"I did Mast-"

"Lie again and you'll be expelled."

Confidence completely drained from the student, swallowing the nervous lump in his throat, and managing to keep his gaze centered on Zoro who scowled angrily.

"My Father."

"Why? The assignment was for you, not your father." Rising from where he sat, sheathing the sword he loaned to his student and handing it to one of the assistant teachers.

"Because he is a swordsman like you, and wanted to show me the correct way to clean and polish a sword." Words carrying a slight tremble as he spoke, trying to resist in picking at his fingers in nerves.

"Then why are you enrolled? If my methods of teaching are incorrect then there's no reason for you to be in my class." Zoro watched as the student shrunk where he stood, realizing the depth of his actions and the consequences that were sure to follow.

"yes I-"

"You're dismissed for the day." Speaking over the student's stammering in a surprisingly calm tone. For a moment, Zoro thought he would protest further, instead bowing at the waist and grabbing the last of his things and shuffling out of the courtyard. Everyone watched with wide eyes and nerves, never witnessing such a thing before. Zoro wouldn't expel the student, but lying and not even completing the task that was assigned got him sent home from the class. There was no success in letting others do the menial and somewhat pointless tasks, the path to mastering the art of swordsmanship was all up to you.

Zoro didn't waste anymore time on what had just happened, sitting back down and waving forward the next student. She was one of the few girls in the glass, introverted but picked up on things fast. Zoro tried not to play favorites with his students, wanting to remain fair in honor of his journey and the person who set him on the path in the first place, but there obviously the students who advanced more quickly than others.

"Well done." Handing the girl her blade back, glancing at the last two students. Kōji's eyes followed her as she walked to joined the others, the girl giving him a small wave out of view of her teacher and Kōji giving one back.

Now that all the student's blade have been inspected, Zoro stands, walking down the steps, looking back at his son and holding out his hand for him to take. Together, with Kōji holding onto to the two same fingers from earlier, they walked over to where the students had gathered, awaiting further instructions.

"We'll be going over footwork first and focused, precise moves." Taking Enma out of the cover, Zoro dropped Kōji's hand to give a brief demonstration of what the students would be doing. Placing one foot behind the other, bending his knees just enough, Zoro spotted his target out of the peripheral of his good eye, inhaling deeply.

Kōji and the other students watched, some never having seen the world's greatest swordsman use his blades and some anticipating the excitement of witnessing it again.

Turning on his back foot, Zoro's waist twists in the direction of the practice dummy, Haki flowing furiously down the arm that held the Enma at the hilt, swinging his arm just enough and speaking the name of the famed blade. In an instant, the top half of the dummy was cut diagonally, top half sliding down and hitting the dirt. Nothing else besides the dummy took a damage, Zoro now possessing years of control and practice with this specific sword to center his attack on only what he wanted, a feat he worked hard to achieve.

Gasps and murmurs followed the single move, students exchanging looks with one another in pure amazement, the title of their master living up to its name.

"One person explain how I was able to achieve that" Tucking Emna back into its scabbard and returning to stand in front of his students. Kōji quietly made his way to stand closer to Zoro, shuffling his feet in the dirt and looking up at him as he waited for the answer to his question.

"You centered yourself first, then chose a target to aim for." A student answered, clutching the scabbard of his own blade to his chest.

"Good. Foot placement may not always be achievable in certain situations, but it's a way to center yourself before an attack. Throwing out unfocused and sporadic attacks could land you at the other end of the blade, which is why treating your sword as an extension of yourself and centering your being will get you results and not on the wrong end of blade."

Zoro allowed himself a small smile seeing the slow nods from his students, experience mingling into his words as he spoke and feeling confident that his students were absorbing every word.

"Find a dummy and practice some of the basic moves from previous classes. Aim for precision, center your mind, body and soul."

Immediately the students broke off from each other, following instructions and unsheathing their blades from their scabbards.

Zoro took a moment to make sure everyone was where they were suppose to be, before turning his attention to Kōji. He was awestruck still, blankly staring out where the students were and leaning into Zoro.

"Having fun?" Asking with a chuckle when his son's head popped up, a smile breaking out on his face.

"That was so cool! How did you do that? Can all of your swords do that? Will you teach me-"

"Slow down," Laughing under his breath at the influx of questions pouring from his son, the amazement and pure excitement swelling the organ in Zoro's chest. The excitement from his students just didn't feel the same as his son's excitement, the admiration Kōji held for him was so dear and special.

"All of my swords are different and used for different moves and attacks. And someday, when you're old enough, I'lll teach you, with your own."

Kōji let out a lengthy gasp, stars forming in his eyes. This was the first time his dad had ever given him an answer to his constant request for him to teach him. Zoro palmed the top of his head, brushing back some of his hair and continuing to give Kōji the promising smile.

The remainder of the class, Zoro corrected students who needed it and indulged in his son's occasional questions. He could picture doing this with Kōji, and was kind of excited to pass down his passion to his son, completely different than passing it down to students.

By the time the last student had left with their parent, Zoro could see you approaching with Kiyomi and a few additional items. Kōji was already inside getting washed up for dinner by the time you got back.

Before you could even ask how the day had gone, Zoro was taking his daughter from you and ushering you inside, to discuss about the excitement that took place while you were out. Kiyomi smiled wide now that she was carried by Zoro, gurgling as if she were saying actual words back to him as he made similar hushed noises in return.

Within the bedroom, Zoro kept Kiyomi occupied as you changed and put everything away.

“How was he?”

Hearing you ask, sauntering out of the closet in one of your more simpler kimonos, reaching for Kiyomi as if you hadn’t been with her all day. Zoro sighed, like he were defeated at his daughter being “stolen” from him, but laughed under his breath at how enamored Kiyomi was at the moment.

“He’ll be counting down the days till his birthday, the day he’ll want to enroll.”

You hummed, holding out your free hand for him to take so the two of you could grab Kōji from his room and head down for dinner.

“And I’m assuming you’ll let him?”

“Why wouldn’t I? He was so excited to just sit in on the class, a kid in a candy store sweetheart.” Shrugging as if he weren't just as excited at teaching his son the passion that's had him in a chokehold since he was Kōji's age.

The cooks had things set up in the small dining area of the compound, where the four of you would eat every night. But the setting sun and the cherry blossoms swaying in the wind made it all the more enticing to eat out in the garden. Giving a quick request to have everything moved to enjoy the nice evening, Zoro felt content run warm through his body. All those years out at sea, pondering what would become of his life after he achieved his goal now seemed so, minuscule. Look where he was now, Master of his dojo and holding the title of "greatest swordsman" and married to the woman he would stay up late at night admiring, hoping the feelings he held for you would always be reciprocated.

"I finally got to see dad use his swords in class and, and, it was so cool!"

Kōji excited exclaimed while sitting on the blanket across from you and Zoro, holding and onigiri in one of his small hands, looking at both you and Zoro with the widest eye either of you have ever seen.

"Which sword was it?" Indulging your son, adjusting your daughter on your lap as she playing with some of the food within reach.

"Um, it was...oh! Enma, right dad?" Sounding kind of confident but then second guessing himself and looking to Zoro for confirmation.

"Mhm, my most famed blade, received that one in Wano, as a gift sort of."

Kōji somehow looked even more entranced, like what Zoro was saying were that of legend and fairytale, but to be fair, Enma was a legendary blade by all standards. You leaned more into his shoulder after giving Kōji an answer, nostalgia and reminiscing coming off of you in waves at the mention of where and how he received that particular sword.

"One day, I'll be just like you dad, or better." Kōji now stood, shoving the onigiri into his mouth and reaching for a rice ball now, smiling proudly with a full mouth, making Zoro swell with pride and maybe something even greater than pride.

"We'll see, you haven't even been enrolled into classes yet." Leaning back on his palm, welcoming Kiyomi, who had now crawled from your lap to his, bringing her to his chest and kissing the top of her soft hair.

"I'm going to practice."

Breaking off from the small blanketed area to go grab his practice swords, almost tripping over his feet but catching himself before managing a repeat from earlier. Zoro could hear you sigh sweetly, feeling your body come to press against his, running a hand through the longer hair towards the back of his neck.

"God I can only imagine what you were like his age."

All Zoro could do was hum humorously, lean over and kiss the top of your head, as if he were agreeing with the statement and thoughts you hadn't voiced yet.

"Much worse baby."

Now you laughed heartily, smacking his arm and moving to lay your cheek on his chest, placing a hand on Kiyomi's back and focusing your attention to the horizon where the sun teased to dip behind. Zoro sighed again, contently, looking in the same direction you were. All his life he was zeroed in on one goal, a goal that led him to now, which he came to realize much later in his journey this is all he could've wanted. the title bestowed upon him was nice, Zoro would admit, but all those nights on the sunny where you and him were curled up in the small cabin, where he worried if once he achieved his goal and helped Luffy achieve his you would still want to be with him. The thrill part of it all is what Zoro swore is what held your love for him together, but god was he relieved to be wrong for once.

"I'm going to try to do what dad did earlier, watch." Kōji declared, now having returned to the garden with three swords, carefully placing the two he didn't need at the moment to the side, trying to mirror the stance Zoro had earlier during class.

As Zoro watched the wooden blade cut through the air with a whistle and a small excited squeal from his son, he looked down at his daughter and then to you and thanked the universe and every god out there that this was his reward for the end of his adventure, the comfort after a long journey of achieving his goals and honoring a close friends. There was nothing more he could've asked for, and Zoro wouldn't dare ask for anything else unless it was more of this.

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