G: Angst - Tumblr Posts

I love you slowwwww much!

Author note: In case If you’re wondering. Yes, the sloth hybrid JK idea comes from the ’run bts’ episode when they dubbed Zootopia. I like writing about unusual hybrid breeds so I wanted to give this a go I hope you guys will like it as well!

Pairing ‹sloth hybrid! jeongguk x reader›

Genre ‹hybrid, fluff, smut, angst, strangers to lovers›

Summary ‹Your roommate’s hybrid always nags you about a playmate while your roommate complains about you being alone all the time in your room so you kill two birds with one stone and get a companion.›

Warnings ‹exotic/rare hybrid, inexperienced owner! reader, hybrid stereotypes, adoption centre and adoption of an adult hybrid, roommate and best friend Namjoon and snake hybrid hoseok, smut, sub! jeongguk + soft dom! reader, foreplay, oral (f, m), unprotected sex (always be safe guys!), you do all the work honey, finger and cock riding, dirty talk, praising, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, blowjob, lots of cum, jk is a pillow prince, manhandling, face sitting›

Words ‹8.8k›

Do I have the urge to climb a tree and hang upside down from it? Absolutely yes but do you see me actually doing it? I don’t think so.

Your left eye cracks open when you hear a pan loudly hitting the kitchen floor and then silence. The perpetrator in the house probably tries to figure out if he frightened you awake yet or not by listening intently for any sign of noise in the form of a frustrated groan or a not so friendly curse word that usually follows once your clumsy roommate prepares his breakfast before work, 6 o’clock at sharp every damn morning on weekdays.

The apartment’s walls are thin but in turn, it was cheaper for you two to rent it, you didn’t think it was an issue before you learnt what it means to live with a clumsy Kim Namjoon as your flatmate. You never hated his office job more than these few days that you’re seriously deprived of sleep. You like to sleep till ten or twelve normally the hour depends on when you went to bed that day.

Your working hours are miles apart from each other that’s why you two make attempts to be considerate when the other tries to get a good night of sleep. Living with Namjoon is not bad, he’s not a messy person and remembers dates better than you that saved your life more than once in the past five years of living together. On the other hand, he’s a disaster walking on legs when it comes to anything else, especially in the kitchen.

You hear a low snicker that undoubtedly comes from Hoseok, your roommate’s hybrid. You could picture the frightened look in Namjoon’s dark eyes without having to see it for yourself. You can be a real bitch if you’re up before your alarm and it’s not to their advantage that you haven’t had your morning coffee either that comes to the second revelation Namjoon learnt from living with you for so long is that you’re not a person before your daily dose of caffeine. Unfortunately for him now you’re wide awake as you roll out of the human-sized blanket burrito.

Keep reading

I read through this in one night and let me tell you... I fucking loved it! Oh my God there were so many emotions (imagining me crying at 2 am) lol. There were times where I wanted to strangle the life out of jungkook and Eunwoo... I wanted to murder him but yeah! geez this was an amazing read! ❣️ instant fav🥰

Thank you for writing this masterpiece!❤️‍🔥

SOMEWHERE ONLY WE KNOW ’S MASTERLIST

— loving him was red | (m)

must read in order to understand the plot, especially in running out of time and let’s fix this!

I. the beginning of the end | (m)

3,000+

angst, smut

II. let’s fix this | (m)

4,500+

angst, smut

III. running out of time | (m)

9,999+

angst, fluff, smut

author’s note i finally compiled somewhere only we know’s three installments plus it’s prequel into one post. thank me later, hehe.

the ghost of you ; myg

pairing; human!yoongi x ghost!reader

genre; angst , supernatural au , lovers au , ghost au

tw; description of death and accidents, death mentioned throughout, heavy descriptions of grief and loss.

wc; 2.96k

playlist; too much to ask - niall horan

m.list

Forty-three. Forty-four. Forty-five. And counting. His shoulder must’ve ached by now - there’s no way it couldn’t have done. Why was nobody helping him? Nevermind. If I knew Yoongi, I knew he wouldn’t want to give anybody else the hassle. It hadn’t been that long. Such a prominent trait of his wouldn’t have withered away so soon.

He’d hardly ever ask me for a favour when I was alive. Now that I’m dead, isolation was his only company.

I watched from the balcony landing on the upper floor of his new apartment. Slowly, it had begun to dawn on me that I was nothing more than a phantom - an unfamiliar spirit that haunted his hallways. I wasn’t expecting to leave Yoongi as soon as I did; the guilt hadn’t quite drained from my blood. On the first night, I sat opposite him in the dimly lit living room. A single whisky glass, still coated with the third refill of the night, hugged the black coaster on the coffee table. The phone screen glowed with condolence and devastation, and his cheeks glowed with the numbing sting of grief and alcohol. There was a pizza box too. It still steamed with the anticipation of being eaten - I’m not sure whether he ever did or not.

I sobbed with him. Uncontrollable, I was. He was. He couldn’t hear me - nobody could. It was for the better, I could wallow in my own grief without being disturbed. But I could hear him. God, could I hear him.

“Why her? Why me? It should’ve been me. I need her.”

Vulnerability was far from Yoongi’s regular state. Seldom did I see him so emotionally honest. I’ve had time to reflect. Actually, all I’ve done is reflect - there isn’t much else for me to do. Watching him cry out into the echoes of a now apartment for one reminded me of the times where my echoes were met by his soothing presence; supportive and caring words which may have only been so effective since Yoongi was the one delivering them.

I wondered if he knew I was here. Who am I kidding? Yoongi doesn’t believe in ghosts. Spirits, phantoms - none of it. Why would I be here? Why would I want to stay with him? “Heaven is a better place for her, she belongs in a better place,” is what he reminded himself, verbally, leaning against the bathroom counter. He couldn’t even look himself in the eyes.

Keep reading

i promise.

summary:  running into your ex-boyfriend, namjoon, stirs a lot of feelings inside of you, moving you to give your husband, yoongi, the full reason why that relationship ended pairing: (past) kim namjoon x reader | min yoongi x reader genre: exes reunion, angst, bit of fluff rating: PG word count: 5.1k tags/warnings: mentions infertility, heavy conversations surrounding infertility, heavy angst, a lot of crying, a slip of the tongue that could be triggering, sfw intimacy that alludes to but does not describe anything physical, there is fluff i promise but if any of these topics are triggering for you, please dni

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafted fics for quite some time. for the sake of story progression, the italicized conversation between reader and namjoon could be considered a general plot hole. it is very emotional but i really love this fic. i know i don’t need to explain my writing process but i remember when i wrote the emotion into this story and how much it eased my pain back then, so i hope if nothing else, it can just feel like a hug of sorts. please be sure to read warnings before proceeding.

The toe of your shoes crease when you stretch upwards, fully extending your fingers and singing a silent victory song when the tips of your fingers touch the box. You pull it forward three times but to no avail.

“I don’t understand why they put things so high up,” a male’s deep voice suddenly appears next to you followed with it is a long arm, his hand grabbing the box with ease before bringing it down for you, “here you go-“

You laugh, ease finding its way back into your body before looking up at the kind Samaritan, “thank you-“

But it isn’t long before you tense up again at first sight of the man.

“Namjoon-“ your breath escapes you and with it goes the box tumbling from your Gumby-like hands, “oh my gosh-“

Both tumble forward to save the item before it can connect with the ground. Ultimately it lands in his hands, though he is just as shaken as you.

“Namjoon-“ you repeat his name followed with a suffocating breath, all of it lodging in your throat.

“H-hello,” he finally blinks, clenching the box between his hands as your name tumbles out of his mouth.

At the sound of your name you scan the narrow aisle for any onlookers, your mind taunting you that everyone is aware you’ve unexpectedly run into your ex-boyfriend.

You move your cart to the side to allow another shopper to pass through the aisle. An awkward exchange is made between the two who are no longer mere strangers, finally securing the item in your basket.

“Thank you a-again,” you stutter, keeping one hand on the cart handle and wringing it around, “I’m so sorry-“ a breathy laugh manages to slip through your lips.

Namjoon scurries for a topic noting your nervousness while trying to keep his at bay.

“I suppose this isn’t the scenario you saw yourself in if we ever did see each other again-” he curses at himself, “not that I imagined this either.“

You struggle to find his eyes, choosing a place next to his head when you finally gather yourself enough to form a coherent sentence, “no-no it certainly isn’t.”

Continuar lendo

Nefarious : Yandere!Taekook

Nefarious meaning: wicked or criminal

Summary: You’ve been being followed for months and you decide to take matters into your own hands. What you get is not what you expect: not one, but two men have been following you. And although you’d once seen your phantom protector as maybe a gentleman just making sure you get home every night, you realize that this fantasy couldn’t be farther from the truth. the men who follow you are dangerous, and now you’ve invited them in.

Word Count: 7.4k

Pairing: Yandere!Tae x sub!reader x Yandere!Jungkook

Genre/Rating: 18+, smut, Yandere

Warnings: threesome, double penetration, oral m/f receiving/giving, fingering, overstim, insinuation of murder, marking, biting, choking, gagging, breath play, semi-knife play, spanking, jealousy, obsession, rough sex, cumplay, dirty talk, slight degradation/praising, stalking, Dom!Tae, Dom!Jungkook, Sub!reader. 

A/N: This is a work of fiction, it describes Tae and JK being very obsessive and has Yandere themes such as stalking. Please read at your own risk, this has been a warning.

**********************

You’d caught glimpses of the man a few times: his reflection in a store window as he mirrored you on the other side of the street, staying back a few steps as opposed to parallel with you. You’d seen his lean frame as he moved through the crowd of your university cafeteria, close but not too close. 

At first, you’d hardly noticed him, until one night when you’d been walking home and you’d heard him close behind you, closer than ever before. It had been a cold night, and you hadn’t been in the best part of town. His closeness had made you walk faster, and he’d matched your speed, but as you turned onto your street, your apartment in view, he’d suddenly disappeared like some sort of phantom.

That night, still buzzing from the near encounter, something inside of you had told you he didn’t want to hurt you. He almost gave off a vibe that felt protective, and you’d convinced yourself that he’d been walking closer precisely because it had been a dangerous part of town and dark out. 

After that, you’d kept your eye out for him. And any time you knew he was near, something inside of you felt a little bit warmer. He usually wore a mask, the black fabric covering at least two-thirds of his face, and it had taken you two months to even figure out that’s what was on his face from the brief glimpses you’d had of him.

You wondered when he’d approach you. Wondered if he ever would. Or maybe, he’d just stop, leaving as suddenly as he had appeared. 

After a study session with a friend, you were walking home when she grabbed your arm, “I think someone’s following us.” she whispered in your ear.

“Oh it’s just-” you began to explain, when you realized how odd it would sound. ‘Yeah, that’s just my stalker, he’s been following me for a few months, but I don’t think he’ll hurt us.’ 

Keep reading

fragments | jimin x reader [01]

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED | felicitywrites on tumblr (2021) NO reposts, translations, or any type of distribution allowed.

synopsis: your heart sank to your stomach as you stepped out of your room, and right there in your kitchen was the last person you ever wanted to see again. he acted as though he still lived there with you, knew each and every corner like the back of his hand and you blinked harshly trying to convince yourself you were dreaming.

impossible. this is impossible.

what was park jimin doing in your apartment, in your own loose bathrobe, pouring you a cup of coffee as he greeted you with that stupid smile on his face, when three years ago, you were certain he was out of your life forever as he left you here on your own and run into the arms of someone else?

this should be a dream, you repeated.

until you figured out it actually wasn't -- because this was that day, the one before you confronted him about his affair.

unfortunately, you were about to relive the same day over and over again, and you had absolutely no idea as to why.

pairing: professor!jimin x author!reader

genre: 70% angst, 20% smut, 10% fluff

warnings: an emotional rollercoaster, INFIDELITY, betrayal, stress, heavy alcohol consumption, anxiety, sleep deprivation, toxic relationships between reader and her family, reader and jimin obviously, jimin is a lying, manipulative, two-faced asshole, self-blaming, gaslighting, angry sex, a very sad and heartbreaking sex.

i think that's it??? let me know if i forgot anything x

status: ONGOING

word count: 5.9k

song recs: milk & honey - billie marten (alt version) | the butterfly effect - before you exit | who - lauv ft. bts

[TEASER] [01] [02] [03] +++

"Honey, you alright?"

Oh damn, you muttered under your breath as you straightened your back. You're never the kind of person to talk to strangers, let alone those who stand by you at the bus stop at such a time.

Deciding to trace the uneven lines on the tiles below your feet, you took in a sharp breath and hoped whoever asked you would simply let it go.

But they didn't. And your heart nearly jumped out of your chest when the said stranger inched closer to you and handed you something.

"Take this, and you're sweating. How about we find you a bottle of water or anything to drink? Hm?"

It was a woman, seemingly in her mid-forties and she was clad in the same generic office uniform as you were, but less elegant, due to the lack of accessories or jewelries attached other than a ring on her finger.

Must be married, you thought, and you watched as she smiled in your way and for a moment, you felt as though the warmth spreading on your face was because her presence reminded you of someone.

She didn't take your silence as anything but a yes to her suggestion, so you found yourself behind her while she dragged you out of the crowded bus stop and towards the nearest convenience store she could see.

By the time you arrived there, the woman guided you to a table outside before she scurried inside to buy some drinks for you, and also for her.

She returned still with the smile she'd been wearing since you first caught a glance of her face and as she sat down across from you, she was already finishing the bottle.

"Monday sucks, yeah? Must be hard even for youngsters like you.."

Taking your time to pop open the bottle, you couldn't help but notice the way the woman was staring you up and down, and you began to feel a bit queasy.

Yet you chose to leave it, and instead focus on the water that flowed right through your throat and the coolness of it made you relax.

She was right, the wicked Mondays sucked, and it had been that way for a while now. Though you should be used to it by now, there were just times when for unexplainable reasons, you couldn't.

“Isn’t it like it for everybody, regardless of age?” you asked her, because you knew that you were never alone to hate on Mondays.

And she paused, shoving the now empty bottle into her bag and sank in her seat, cross-legged. You could tell she was trying to read your mind.

She grinned, meeting your rather flustered face for the lack of willingness to hide the hidden meaning behind your words.

You sat upright, almost ready to defend yourself before running away but the woman nodded, figuring you out and you were stunned as the response fell from her lips.

“A terrible thing happened on a Monday, perhaps, it had something to do with that ring finger of yours? Apologies for being nosy but it’s not every day I get to the bus stop and see someone nearly fainting like you did. And I have a daughter of my own.”

You hated being questioned on the little habits and quirks you had, especially when strangers pointed it out to you as if they knew you personally.

Again, the woman was right -- and you nibbled at your bottom lip, unable to form any reply anymore as you stared blankly ahead.

There was an annoying, ugly permanent mark on your finger, a proof that you were once sentimental to things you were given, or at least to things you knew were yours.

It’s funny how in three years of hiding away that immeasurable pain of a past you had, that woman right there flipped you open and was able to bring it out for the world to see.

And when your vision started to blurry at the tears pooling around your eyes, the woman’s hand rubbed the rough skin atop your own, before she let out a heavy sigh and a remark that you were sure would keep you up at night after work.

“The first step to transform your Mondays is to just practice a new routine as soon as you start your day... Like, instead of running to the bus stop, why not take the train? And make sure you’ve had breakfast before you leave the house, or grab one along the way and spare yourself ten minutes to finish it at work? Anything, really.”

You swallowed, looking down at your hand disappearing from her own large ones.

“My daughter took two years to get over it and when she finally did, she replaced that ring into something she herself picked and then things just shifted. I’m pretty sure you can do it, sweetie. It’s never too late.”

Did she think I was married? I wonder.

“I wasn’t - it’s not because I was married. Actually it’s….” she cut you short and shrugged her shoulders. “Married or not, it still hurts the same, yeah? It doesn’t matter which is the truth because it’s not about the situation but more of the person involved with you.”

“Well,” you bit your inner cheek and pulled back, clenching your fist so as to let her touch linger. You haven’t had any physical contact with anyone for three years.

Three goddamn years and you were nothing but a lonely vessel walking around, just trying to live.

That’s it, a face flashed when the woman smiled again, and you cursed mentally for ever confirming it. It was your mother.

She reminded you of your own mother, whom you hadn’t been in contact with for three years, along with your father and both of their new families.

God, it took this long for you to realize how pathetic you have been.

Gladly, you thanked the woman for the insight, though uninvited - still, it helped you work out your thoughts and somehow, it eased your early Monday morning mood swing.

You parted ways a couple minutes later, telling her you had an urgent meeting in less than an hour which was a lie, and she slipped her business card in your bag when you gave her a hug, which you fished out and kept in your wallet in case you would need it someday.

The office lobby as per usual was swarming with people, employees and guests in three different companies located in several floors in the rest of the tall skyscraper right in the heart of the city.

And you remembered feeling sick and suffocated in the first five minutes you stood waiting for the elevator. Now, you were immune to the overlapping voices and the clamoring ringing over your head.

Tapping your heels on the marbled floor, a deep, husky voice startled you and you whirled around quickly, and you winced as laughter welcomed you.

“Oh please, it’s just me. Good morning, princess.”

“Namjoon, ugh stop calling me that.”

“Oops, sorry but it’s Mr. Kim now that we’re here as professionals…”

You scoffed and Namjoon rolled his eyes, moving closer to your side as he held on to his briefcase. The atmosphere changed a bit once you saw him, a familiar face enough to make you comfortable.

The elevator door dinged and it opened, then the two of you entered in no time as the line behind you went forward.

A momentary silence filled in the small but cramped space and if not for Namjoon’s subtle touch on your skin with his fingers, you could have choked for air.

Smiling more to yourself than to him, you waited until you reached your floor and you walked out fast, turning around to nod at him as his office is another floor away from yours.

You hurried to your desk and the first thing you saw was a basket of pink rose petals and the teasing grin from your coworker.

You honestly didn’t mind that despite your position in the publishing company having a perk to choose a huge personal office on the higher floor, you hated being anywhere near Namjoon at all times so you reckoned it was better to stay within the proximity of your close work peers like Sooyoung.

“He just never gives up, it’s insane,” she shook her head, swiveling in her chair to face you as you sat on your own and inspected yet another gift from a certain someone.

You sighed, bringing the basket to your chest and rested your back against the chair.

“I think I’m starting to like it, though. Baskets of rose petals every Monday from the same person, for three years… Think I might decide to marry him one of these days.”

Your words stung, of course. You felt it even before it came out and Sooyoung gave you a disbelieving look, as though you were foolish to say it.

“Jeez, Y/N, come on. We all know the guy isn’t your type. And three years is a long time to pursue someone like you.”

You frowned, offended at the tone of her voice and at the implication of her words but you just laughed it off, thinking no one would ever understand you other than yourself.

“You’re absolutely right. Anyways, about the survey, who’s doing it?” you switched subjects, and Sooyoung caught on it fast as her face lightened up.

“Hm, Mrs. Choi wanted you to do it but I think Mr. Kim proposed it’s someone else instead? Why do you ask?”

You placed the basket back on the side of your desk before you pressed on your work schedule in your computer, clicking on the week that’s coming.

“I’ll do it, could you email Mr. Kim about it? Tell him I’m volunteering, no need to ask someone. Besides, I know people from that university who can help.”

Sooyoung blinked in confusion, wondering how the hell did you suddenly agree on the survey when it’s not even in your description anymore.

You were supposed to be writing again, and it’s been six months since your last release, though it was a bestselling hit, you were aware of the clause in your informal contract with Namjoon about publishing another book before the attention from your first dies down.

You had to comply with the end of the bargain however, the survey intrigued you more.

No. Honestly, the survey was just an excuse. You wanted to go there, where the survey should be executed at.

Jung University - where someone you very well know worked at.

Someone you haven’t seen in three years, and you had sworn you’d never call again but here you were, ticking the box in your schedule that read as the survey date before Sooyoung could even send that email to your editor, Namjoon.

“Are you kidding me? No, Y/N, you’re not doing the survey..”

Namjoon was frantically skipping over to you as you stomped off to the entrance. You were smirking in victory at ruining his mood and his voice echoed around the empty lobby.

You stopped at the doors, peered over to witness the scowl on his face and you chuckled at how his work facade had long diminished.

“Did Sooyoung even send you an email? I bet she didn’t.”

He groaned, hand pulling at your wrist to completely stop you from leaving.

“No, but she called for christ’s sake. Really, Y/N? You wanted to do it? Or do you just want to get there and see him? Because if it is, then it’s not like you.”

“Wait, what? What isn't like me? To make amends with someone from the past and maybe then I could start moving forward?”

It didn’t make sense. You knew it. You fumbled with your words and thoughts and Namjoon could tell you were making excuses.

Making amends wasn’t you. You hated confrontations, hated facing the truth with your head held up high because what you always were was a coward.

Namjoon knew you like that. He was there to see you crumble when you had to explain a mistake over something at work when you were still a copywriter.

He was there when you avoided talking to higher ups at company dinners and ultimately refusing to befriend coworkers.

Sooyoung and him were the only ones you allowed in your personal life.

Three years ago, your life was everything but who you are now.

You were different in many ways unimaginable. You were strong, head fucking strong to scream at the world, yell out your frustrations and your fears.

You were open to sharing what made you uneasy and distant, what you thought was wrong about anything and you were living a life without a script to memorize or a routine to follow.

You were spontaneous, at least that was what he used to call you when people asked him about you.

But was that really who you were?

Because after that you found yourself back to how you were prior to meeting him. When you were a lifeless little girl with parents who hated each other to death and a house without knives or scissors or anything sharp as your grandfather thought better.

Three years after Park Jimin was out of your life, you were returning to your old self, that spiteful, young menace who wanted nothing out of her own bubble.

The one you hated the most next to your parents and their marriage that broke you apart.

And meeting that old woman that morning woke you into a reality where you could no longer hold everything in. You had to let it spill and fall through the cracks of your being.

You wanted to spring free from your dull, clouded mind with regrets and what-ifs because it wasn’t just Mondays that sucked for you.

Everything fucking sucked and you desperately wished one thing wouldn’t feel as such.

If seeing him again means you will find the right track you lost then, and maybe that’s better than living a life like that unfinished manuscript of yours months before you met him.

“You don’t need that, listen - Jimin is far beyond what you can reach now. He’s not even my friend anymore, but you are, Y/N. And I want you to get over that prick and I’ve been saying this for three years, goddamn it. I told you to move out of that apartment and help me find you someplace else, and Sooyoung clearly said you can come to her too. Doing the survey wouldn’t give you what you want. It isn’t the way…”

You pursed your lips, eyes darting from one to another and you felt dizzy as your chest tightened. It’s like you couldn’t breathe.

The tears that were left that morning made its way back around and Namjoon heaved, pulling you in for an embrace as he couldn’t see you wither away again.

You stayed like that for God knew how long until the lights from the lobby turned off, and you were met with darkness. Namjoon rubbed your back as your silent sobs vibrated against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” was all you could say at that point. And you meant it well. The last thing you ever wanted was to keep worrying him after everything you put him through.

He nodded and smiled though you couldn’t see it, watching his own reflection from the glass doors waiting for you to walk in and out of the office.

Namjoon regretfully recounted the day you called him to meet so you could tell him about what happened. After all, Jimin was his friend before he was yours.

They stood for years, tracing back in college where they shared rooms until they graduated and though they took different career paths, they remained friends, and even more so when Namjoon let him meet his junior trainee and his so-called secretary back then, you.

He was the reason you knew Jimin. Through him, you met the man whom you spent the best days of your life with, the most beautiful years you’ve ever lived.

You were grateful for Kim Namjoon, though you felt it was you who was indebted and not him because he lost his good friend too.

And you blame yourself for that.

And for your own connection with Park Jimin that dwindled along with the time you were supposed to live in without the memories of your scarred and strained relationship with your family which you ran away from.

“Come on, let me drive you home. Think about the survey tomorrow, okay? If you want to, I can be your company. I just don’t want to send you on your own.”

You sniffled, stepping back to look at him dead serious in the eyes and it turned into crescents as he smiled softly down at you, arms still wrapped around your own.

“Oh, okay. Thank you, Namjoon, I really mean it.”

He nodded, hand lifting up to ruffle your hair, “I know, I know…”

You tossed and turned in bed, the yellow lighting in your room didn’t change the heaviness you continued to feel as soon as Namjoon dropped you off your apartment.

You told him not to worry, faked a perfect smile to lessen his stress over you and when you were sure it worked, you waved him goodbye and let yourself succumb into your own again, as always.

Your apartment had stopped feeling like home three years ago, though it’s fairly clean as all you did on weekends was either clean or watch movies all day long in your room.

Nothing was left from the person who lived there other than the sound of his voice and his scent that seemed to have stayed with you, and you tend to force yourself to listen to music with your earpods to keep it out and spray on different brands across the house to cover the scent itself.

It’s stupid to think something like that could stay for three years but hell, they did. And you wanted to cry each time you encountered them.

The bed you once shared was the one thing that’s changed because there came a time when you thought to get rid of it so you won’t remember the nights you were tangled up in sheets with him.

Those nights that lasted quite like a lifetime, as if they were endless, and in the next morning you were sure to wake up still in his loving arms.

You didn’t take pleasure remembering happy memories with him, as it only brought tears just as much as it did when you tried recalling the sad ones.

So, you got up and switched on the lights fully, ridding yourself of the covers and walked out to grab a can of beer from your fridge.

Your phone dinged on the counter as you downed the drink straight, and you peeked at it before shoving the beer into the trash can.

[Sooyoung]: namjoon asked me to check on you

[Sooyoung]: still up?

[Sooyoung]: btw, the university replied back, saying they’re looking forward to meeting you, that is if you still would like to push through with the survey task

[Sooyoung]: i think you should, Y/N - park wouldn’t even be there that week anyway.

[You]: Why not?

[Sooyoung]: wow is that a least bit of your concern right now? well, he’s got an urgent business to do, whatever that is..

You sighed, disappointed in your features as you laid your back against the counter. Oh God, you really wanted to see him.

Shaking your head abruptly, you stood straight and inhaled a breath, holding it for a second and exhaled then clutched your chest for good measure.

You can’t be thinking about him right now when you’ve just burdened Namjoon yet again that night. You had to get your shit together.

If he’s not there it should be fine, right? That’s not going to help you anyway if you were to see him while you had work to finish.

Walking back to your room and to bed, you had one goal in mind, thanks to that beer you could think better than you did the rest of the day.

I gotta take the fucking train tomorrow and buy myself something to rid this mark on my finger, you mumbled to yourself as you crawled underneath the sheets.

And you’ve felt a little light-headed, slowly clearing off of whatever filled your mind.

You woke up slightly disheveled yet calm, no, you felt so much better than yesterday. Seven hours of sleep was foreign to you and you giggled to yourself as you basked in the sunlight through the blinds of your window.

There was warmth and coziness in that particular morning, and your immediate thought was to brew yourself a cup of coffee which you hadn’t done in a while.

Tuesdays used to feel crazy good, when Jimin was around. It was the day when he’s not in classrooms scooped up with students.

Either he’s at the house in his office which was now the empty, cold, dusty spare room you dared not to go in for fear of ghosts, whoever they might be, or at a random coffee shop nearby grading papers or writing lessons as he waited for you to get off work and he’d pick you up.

After that, you’d have dinner outside at some restaurant and talk about work and weather, laugh at the misfortunes of other people, whom you now know to be your own self.

Your misfortunes were the ones you and Jimin used to make fun of and you wanted to throw up in your bathroom as you got ready for the day.

How ironic.

Nevertheless, Tuesdays could also be good for you, you know it is good now that your phone kept buzzing from your nightstand and you knew it was Namjoon just flooding you with nonsense.

Or Sooyoung and her recent work gossip.

You sighed in relief, heart fluttering as the water trickled down your skin in the shower, causing you to shut your eyes in the feeling.

Once finished, you put on another basic work uniform and you failed to notice another pair next to it on the ottoman, spreaded out and ironed nicely.

You also failed to notice all the other stuff placed around the room as you made your way out to make yourself coffee.

You were like floating when you strode into the hallway leading to the kitchen, but the sound of your coffee machine whirring caught your undivided attention.

Stopping on your tracks, your eyebrows furrowed, and you couldn’t make out the faint, muffled humming of someone not too far from you.

Someone’s here? You wondered, but you remembered you changed the locks and only one person had access to the pin code, Namjoon.

Should it be him?

You scratched the back of your neck as you hesitated to check if it was him. An intruder or a stalker wasn’t anywhere near your conscious mind as of that moment, so you decided to make a run back to your room to instead check your phone.

As soon as you leaned over to pick it, your foot hit something next to the bed, and your eyes gawked at a left Chelsea boot lying on the carpet.

What? You only wore boots when it’s the fall or winter, and leather? You weren’t a fan of it much either. Your head spun at your name being called outside to the voice you easily can recognize anywhere you go.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you gripped on your phone, refusing to turn around to the door slightly opened.

You thought it was a dream, one of those haunting dreams you very so often encountered when you tried to sleep for more than five hours, or when your body cooperated with you and let you doze off for longer than usual.

But your phone dinged again, and you looked at it with trembling hands, your knees buckling and your head feeling like a ton of bricks were being stacked upon it.

[Namjoon]: Y/N, tell Jimin to forget about date night just for today. I have to borrow you for my mock presentation at six. Sorry for the late notice.

[Namjoon]: also could you please ask him NICELY to respond when i text him? Remind him we made a pact not to fall in love with the same person so there’s no way i’ll steal you away from him when i ask his permission to let you help me with work BECAUSE YOU’RE MY SECRETARY AND MY FRIEND AS WELL.

Fuck. What the actual fuck. You were certain this must be another dream, now you’re not sure because your body reacted faster than your brain did and you found yourself running out towards the kitchen.

The coffee machine had stopped whirring, and the sound you heard was more than enough to make you stop dead in your tracks but with your heart constricting in your chest.

You swallowed a lump rising from your throat as your stomach twisted, causing you to clutch on it as if shielding yourself for another attack, that is, if there’s actually something punching you in the gut.

“What is going on,” was all you could mutter, staring at the person you thought you wanted to see again, but his presence less than a feet away made you want to shrink.

Park Jimin - in his glory, working his way around the kitchen you owned, the place you found yourself in whenever the horrors of the apartment came creeping in.

He was humming to a song unfamiliar to you, dancing and swaying as he prepared breakfast not just for him as he often did but for you as well.

You knew it because he was taking your mug from the cupboard, turning to you to grin and his eyes lit up meeting your quivering ones.

You didn’t stop the tears willing its way back to your eyes and down your cheeks as it began to dawn on you that he was there.

It was him and not some fragment of your memory you longed to forget.

Not a figment of your imagination but his actual self pouring you your morning coffee with a permanent grin on his glorious face.

He was shining - glowing like an angel paying you a visit, the one your mother would call your guardian angel keeping you safe.

It’s outright ridiculous how the night before, you swore you didn’t need to see him again and right then and there you were yearning to touch him.

And the fact that he was wearing your favorite grey bathrobe, loose and worn out which you had kept hidden away in the deepest of your wardrobe as it smelled like him;

It awakened and stirred something inside of you that you definitely locked within.

He placed the mug on the table, on the coaster as you saw the plates on top of the other coasters which you used to scold him about.

Jimin was a different man at home. On the surface, he was calculative, reserved and a bit cold but when he’s with you, he’s messy and all over the place.

The little things like using coasters and the actual teaspoons for coffee, or cleaning up the counter before he started arranging the utensils and plates for the meal;

He was not the best person to trust with it.

Yet the way he was gazing up at you to hear a praise, a compliment from you over his hard work interrupted your raging thoughts.

“Hey, love. Good morning!”

Shit shit shit. You panicked on the inside, hearing his voice laced with sweetness like honey and a hint of sultriness in it was the last straw.

You were about to lose your mind and it hasn’t even been ten minutes of seeing him.

“Oh, are you okay? Don’t like pancakes? I thought we agreed--”

You cut him, “That Tuesdays are for blueberry pancakes and two shots of espresso..” and his lips curved up in a smile you considered way prettier than his usual grin.

It was the smile he gave you on the first night you met, and you have had it imprinted in your mind since. You loved it so much.

“Yes, but if you don’t feel like eating them today I can just wrap them up, Mr. Ahn likes it. I think we could give them to him instead.”

Mr. Ahn, your lovely neighbor who used to spend his mornings walking up and down the fire exit stairs as his daily exercise. Jimin was fond of the old man, a widower without any children and had been living out of his wife’s will who was an accountant for many years.

He had cats and Jimin loved playing with them every morning after his jog, and whenever he came home he’d bring them treats.

You remembered when you told him to adopt a cat despite your allergy but then he confessed he himself had an allergy too.

It was then you realized there were still a lot of things about Jimin which he never told you about - at least not yet, but then he was already gone before you could even ask him more of those.

That’s it. He’s gone. He’s not in your life anymore.

You froze, your own words pulling you back from your reverie. Jimin wasn’t yours anymore.

But why was he there?

What was he doing there as though he never even left?

“What are you doing here?” you’ve had enough of this. Sure, it was one hell of a dream, but you had nothing to do, you had to wake up soon.

“Love,” he whispered, and your blood began to boil at the term he used. Love? This asshole--

“Stop,” you said, walking over to him to steal the spatula from his hand. “You can’t be here.. Just - go, please.”

“Excuse me?” brow raised, he stiffened at the tone of your voice and the feeling when your skin met his. It was cold.

When you took a careful step backwards, he frowned, narrowing his eyes and shooting daggers into your soul and it was that moment when you were sure it was the Jimin you had last known.

Cold, so cold, unnerving, harsh, strict - not the sweet, romantic guy you spent the last two years with before everything crumbled.

That Jimin was someone who resembled your father - the same man you despised more than you did with your mother.

His next words didn’t come as a surprise to you though, leaning forward on the counter to tilt his head as if mocking you.

Licking his lips, Jimin scoffed, eating you out with his changing demeanor as he composed himself to appear unfazed by your rejection.

“You want me to leave? Really, Y/N? Don’t tell me you’re being like this because of the fucking pancakes. Are you? I am trying to make it work.. As I’m sure as hell you are not interested in doing it anyway.”

“Whoa, wait. What? You’re trying to do what? Make it work? Make what work? What do we even have that needs some fixing? Clearly, I have nothing to think of because it’s you who’s fooling around to need it.”

Your entire body’s shivering at your own retort, eyes hooded in fury as Jimin remained still, unaffected by you or the fact that he’s facing the person he ever so willingly left to rot in her own misery three years ago.

However, his action spoke louder than words could ever be, and it was the sign you needed to figure out what was happening and why the hell was he there.

Running a hand through his hair, he paced around the kitchen, fists clenched and you were beginning to find the whole thing oddly familiar.

It was as if the situation had happened before, like a deja vu. You blinked over and over watching him move as he sunk within himself.

And then there’s his phone blaring in the deafening silence, making your heart jump.

He stopped, head lifting to glance at the device sitting on the fruit bowl with nothing but apples that he loved, before he turned to you.

You didn’t know why, but his face that was void of any warmth and familiarity to you suddenly felt terrifying.

It seemed like he was more of a stranger than someone once dear to your heart.

And the faster he rushed to pick up his phone, the quicker you almost fell to your knees when you finally recognized what was unfolding before your eyes.

Holding onto the table behind you for support, you heard the voice from the call in his phone. The same voice that rang in your ear for months since you first heard it.

“Min Yoojin,” you said in barely above a whisper as you stumbled back, gasping for air as you choked out the tears bubbling in the pit of your throat.

Jimin had the phone in his ear, and his body spun to face you, the expression which was rough on him softening at the sight of you on the brink of falling apart.

It was that day, you said wholeheartedly. That day when you were about to tell him you knew everything between him and Yoojin.

His first love, who reappeared in his life, in your lives when she started working at the university as Jimin, who’s been a professor there even before you two met.

Namjoon used to tell you that back in their college years, Jimin was everything to Yoojin, and so she was.

Their relationship was one would call a fairytale romance, as Yoojin came from a family of businessmen and academicians, professors, educators who had been around for decades, eventually building schools and colleges and succeeding.

The influence they had in the industry was known and thanked for by the government, as they helped strengthen the education sector in the rest of the country.

And as for Jimin, he was from a rather humble family of the same profession who looked up to the Mins a lot as his parents’ inspiration.

He was bound to be with her, having met her in one of his classes, Jimin knew Yoojin will always be a part of him. They were meant for greater heights.

And you? Where were you when they found the chance to rekindle the flame, the connection that was long buried when Jimin made you a promise he would stay with you no matter what it takes.

He always said you were the smartest woman he’d ever met, the brightest, and your words captured his heart as soon as you let him skim into your manuscript when you met.

But you didn’t realize that the word smart differed from intelligent, because Namjoon then told you Jimin fell in love with her because she was intelligent.

Despite them being synonymous to each other, you knew the meaning was different for Jimin. You were smart, but you can never be as intelligent as Yoojin.

And that tripled the pain when you saw tears in his eyes as he looked at you, almost apologetic though it was clear he didn’t regret doing it.

After all, she’s all he ever wanted. Even though she left him broken in fragments and you came to put the pieces together years later.

You knew then that it was that day you were about to confront him, to hear his explanation if there’s any.

And much to your dismay, it wasn’t a dream - it was a reality you’re yet to relive for how many times your fate would want you to.

You were about to witness your own self, three years ago - and you were there to lose him all over again.

Masterlist

The ties that bind us still.

© pjmaparty. All rights reserved.

All posted works are mine, please do not repost, copy or translate without explicit permission. (I do not own the pictures used in the moodboard.)

- Teaser

- Part I

- Part II

- Part III

- a lovely banner that stole my heart

[ main m.list ]

Wifey has done it again! I’ve been reading this while she writes and let me tell you! Y’all are not ready for what’s to come! Ahhh I’ve been so excited for the rest of this story! *muah* love you!!

Irresistible⤞ pt. 1

⤞ Pairing: Hybrid Maknae line x reader ⤞ Genre: Hybrid!au, Smut, 18+ M, 3k words ⤞ Summary: You weren’t supposed to be theirs, and they weren’t supposed to find you so irresistible. ⤞ Warnings: mentions of heat, mentions of blood, mentions of abuse, future smut ⤞ A/N: This fic will contain future smut and is 18+ M. Thank you once again to my wifey @outromoni​ for her ridiculous talent. All credit goes to her for the banner. 

The words spoken by the employee at the center fell deaf on Jungkook’s small, but cute bunny ears. The rules were simple; no one could own a human without going through the proper procedures. The problem was, the moment Jungkook set his eyes on you, he knew he had to have you. For weeks he visited the center, always seeking you out in hopes that you weren’t gone. He must’ve walked by your display window a thousand times. Each and every encounter, although only through glass, was unforgettable. Sometimes he’d simply watch you sit in a corner looking forlorn and quiet, and other times, he would see you attempt to interact with the other humans inside of the shared enclosure. But what really killed him, was when you looked right into his soul, your pretty eyes begging to be set free. He couldn’t just leave you there to rot.

Keep reading

Chapters: 7/7 Fandom: 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Jeon Jungkook/Reader, Kim Taehyung | V/Park Jimin, Jeon Jungkook/You, Jeon Jungkook/Original Character(s), Jeon Jungkook/Kim Namjoon | RM Characters: Jeon Jungkook, Reader, Park Jimin (BTS), Kim Taehyung | V, Kim Namjoon | RM, Jung Hoseok | J-Hope, Min Yoongi | Suga, Kim Seokjin | Jin Additional Tags: BDSM, Alternate Universe - BDSM, BDSM Scene, Heavy BDSM, Sadism, Masochism, Sub Jeon Jungkook, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, Idiots in Love, Bondage, Whipping, Jeon Jungkook is Whipped, Jeon Jungkook is a Brat, Bisexuality, Queer Themes, S&M, Romance, Eventual Smut, Caning, Bruises, Oral Sex, Sex, Vaginal Sex, Sex Toys, Shameless Smut, Impact Play, Temperature Play, Spanking, domme reader, Dominatrix, Dungeon, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Alice in Wonderland References, indecent wine usage, Flogging, Consensual Sex, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Fisting, Vaginal Fingering, Double Penetration, Threesome, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, rigging, Suspension, Shibari, Tattoos, Tattoo Artist Min Yoongi | Suga Series: Part 2 of Wonderland Chronicles Summary:

Jungkook leaves a long relationship, doubting himself over issues that he can’t seem to control up until his best friends drag him down into Wonderland, a secret and vast BDSM community, the place where he meets and falls for you.

Fragmented Glass

Chapter 1

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x reader 

Warnings: This story deals with a miscarriage. Eventual Smut. Mentions of death. Dubious consent (not in this chapter) 

Word Count: 4,919

Genre: Angst, Smut, Enemies to Lovers. 

Summary: You had the choice of an arranged marriage, upon meeting Namjoon he acted as if he actually cared for you but as time passed you realize that this would not be a fairy tale.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading, if any of the topics above make you uncomfortable please don’t read. 

The small cafe was bustling with customers. You rushed from one table to the next to take care of the customers. You were tired to say the least, you had been up on your feet since early in the morning and already you felt the soles of your shoes on fire.

“Excuse me!” a whiny voice yelled from one of the tables.

You approached with an apologetic look, “How can I help you?”

The woman scoffed, “I have been here for almost twenty minutes and no one has taken my order.”

You took your small pad and pen out. “We apologize for any inconvenience but we are short staffed today -”

“Spare the sob story for someone who cares, let me get a caramel latte with two extra caramel pumps, not one!, two.”

Keep reading

Tell you no lies.

Yandere ! Jungkook x College student OC

Lawyer Jungkook.

Summary : You’re just staying at your mother’s apartment for your first year of college to save some money. Jungkook is your stepfather who is too intriguing to ignore.

Warnings : Yandere themes, non con, manipulation, pseudo incest, daddy kink, age difference. 

Word Count : 4,100. 

Part 1

——————–

Jeon Jungkook is your step father,. an intriguing figure in your life, almost twenty years older than you and yet so far from ‘old’.   Even at 38 he’s a handsome man , tall and strapping and with a well kept body. He never misses a workout, up at the crack of dawn, sipping his protein shake and dressed in short and a tank top with his bag slung over his neck. 

Jungkook works extra hard to look good and and you don’t blame him. Your own mother is a beautiful lady five years younger than Jungkook but she looks like she could be your older sister.

And because she had you at 15 , she’s always been more of a sister anyway. You love your mother, although you don’t have a typical mother daughter relationship. 

You grew up with your grandparents , back in your hometown in Daegu. Your mother had always been a city girl. You don’t dislike her, you just don’t understand her and her lifestyle, having always been attracted to the quiet solitude of home and family rather than the pull of the night. 

Keep reading

fuck me better (m) | jjk, kth

pairing: jungkook x reader ft. taehyung x reader

summary: jungkook isn’t happy when he finds out he’s eating someone else’s cum out of you // taehyung is tired of seeing you fall for jungkook’s games

genre: smut, pwp, oneshot, slight angst, fwb!au, f2l!au, fuckboy!jungkook, bestfriend!jungkook,  fuckbuddy!taehyung college!au

wordcount: 3.1k

warnings: explicit smut, unprotected sex, coercion, manipulation, jealous!jungkook, possessive themes, sloppy seconds, jungkook eats you out but taehyung came inside you first so idk is that cum play, rough sex, major degradation, spanking, choking, jungkook spits on you, breast play, oral, toxic relationship!!!, hate sex kinda, needy!jungkook, dom!jungkook, sweet!taehyung, bigdick!taehyung, praise, taehyungs HANDS. sorry. ehm. sex while intoxicated, mentions of alcohol 

a/n: this is a ~drabble~ from the fuck me forever au. it can be read as a standalone, but makes more sense if you read that so you can understand this jungkook. he’s…something. s/o to this anon for the idea, hope you like it ;)

“Baby…ohh fuck” Tilting your head back, you watched Taehyung’s beautiful, slender hands travel over your trembling chest. His touch was scalding, delicately wrapping his fingers around your throat. Thumbs pressing against your jaw as he looked at you, eyes dark with desire. Sweat painted his forehead as he flipped his hair back, before lowering back to you. Eyelashes brushing against your forehead as his nose nudged against yours.

The room was filled with surreal sighs, desperate moans and the intoxicating scent of sex. The roll of his hips, slow and deep. Your legs snug around his torso, hands combing through his hair, letting him know how much you adored every move he made. 

“You like that?” He growled, baritone voice vibrating against you as he gave a tight thrust, causing the bed beneath you to creak. You loved the feeling of him inside you, his large size was painful but stretched you out so good. You wanted to feel him deeper—wanted him to tear you apart.

“Y-you’re so big” You gasped, words flying out of your mouth before you could stop them. Your mind was numb. Hounded by the pleasure that overwhelmed your every nerve. Taehyung nuzzled into your neck, chuckling slightly at your comment.

“Yeah baby?” The hint of cockiness in his voice made you surge with wetness. He pressed his lips behind your shoulder, a sweet spot for you, causing you to sigh loudly in bliss. He was so incredibly close, but still wanted to feel you even closer. He wanted to be consumed by you—your scent, your body, your everything. 

“You can take it can’t you? So good for me” He sighed, moving his lips behind your ear, kissing you softly as he picked up his pace, chasing a high he was trying so badly to suppress. “You’re gorgeous. So fucking beautiful”

He meant every word, and you could tell. You pursed your lips, holding back the desperate scream you wanted to let out, suffocated by his praise as he fucked into you hard. Your breath hitching every time he pushed you closer and closer to the head of your bed. Making sure you could feel every inch he had to give as he came inside you, filling you to the brim.

Your lips found one another, eyes falling shut as you shared an intimate kiss. Taehyung stilled, pulling away to admire your face “Y/n” He whispered, a small smile on his face. It was still unreal to him. The fact you of all people were beneath him like this. His friends would kill to be in his situation—a fact he was well aware of. Even so, he had no intention to kiss & tell, content with wrapping his arms around you and holding you close.

You had been straight with him, you had no intention of starting a relationship. And Taehyung knew exactly why—because you were hung up on a certain good for nothing, insecure fuckboy who you claimed to be your best friend. Jeon Jungkook. He hoped over time he could show you that you deserved so much more. It’s for this reason he fucked you like a lover, despite knowing deep down that to you, he would never be one.

“I-I just can’t even fucking believe that you’re—“

Taehyung’s confession was interrupted by a loud BANG on the door. “Y/n!” Taehyung hissed, rolling his eyes at the sound of Jungkook’s whiny voice cutting clean through the beautiful tension that had formed between the two of you. “Y/n please open up!”

Taehyung could see the guilt in your eyes as you pushed him off of you, pressing a finger to your lips “Shit. Taehyung, I’m so sorry. Do you mind hiding for a bit? I’ll get him to leave but if he sees you here…” Taehyung wanted to scowl. If he sees me here then what?

“Y/nnn pleaseeee” The banging persisted, and the slur in Jungkook’s voice confirmed Taehyung’s suspicions. The boy was drunk. Of course. “I’m so sorry. You know I am. Please let me in…I love you baby please” Quickly you guided Taehyung into your closet, where he grabbed your wrist, yanking you into his chest so he could leave you with a chaste kiss.

“Don’t” He urged you, hoping—wishing you would just give up on him. “Don’t answer” 

But he knew his request was in vain. “I can’t just leave him there” You threw on an oversized shirt, barely covering your ass before sliding the closet door shut. Your legs trembled, sore still as you made your way to let Jungkook in.

Keep reading

Superstitions

summary: There is a superstitious belief where one can never go directly to one's home after attending a funeral unless they head elsewhere before doing so. Why? To avoid a lost soul from following you home.

pairing: ghost!jimin x fem!reader genre: spooky szn au lol, sad and fluff

warning: mentions of death

You were never one to believe in superstition or fortune telling. You always thought these were barriers set to limit an individual from doing the barest of all bare activities. You plotted it to the government trying to stop the traffic flow in the streets when officials were in a rush to attend whatever function they had to be at even if it wasn’t of any importance or simply the elders trying to control teenagers from doing bizarre shit that could embarrass the whole family.

Tonight, you’re here in a memorial home to extend your condolences to your best friend who lost her cousin to a bad brawl that didn’t really concern him in the first place. It was a matter of the wrong person in the wrong situation. Sitting there beside her wailing figure, you guessed she had missed a number of days with sleep yet she never ran out of tears to cry. Apparently she was very close with him growing up. Unfortunately the two of you were never introduced to each other but here you are paying your respects.

“He had so much going on for him. He was always good at everything,” you friend utters as she wiped away her tears.

“I’m sure he’s in a good place now with no pain,” you tried to reassure her.

She sighs deeply and shakes her head, “I just..I wish it wasn’t him. It shouldn’t have been him in the first place. They got the wrong person, Y/N”

You didn’t exactly know her pain but you understood it having dealt with losses in your life as well. When she asked you if you wanted to come forward to the casket to have a glimpse, you politely declined. There were two things you were scared of – looking at caskets and ghosts. The fallacy of unfounded beliefs never scared you except for ghosts. No matter how crazy it is to explain how they’re not real you just can’t seem to get over that fact. It still scares you shitless.

“I’m heading home now. Let me know if you need anything and I’ll come back here, alright?” You gave your friend a tight hug.

“Okay, but go have coffee somewhere before going home”

“Why?”

“You know, so spirits don’t follow you,” she rubs at her arm knowing you wouldn’t buy it.

“I know you don’t believe in any of those things but just do it to be sure,” you nodded and made your leave.

Of course you didn’t follow her advice. You were too tired from work and only went straight here because you wanted to be there for her and her family and right now, beliefs have no space in your mind let alone energy to kill time you didn’t have for the day. As soon as you got home, you went straight to your bed and called it a day. Too sleepy to be bothered with taking a shower first. You had insomnia and found that exhausting yourself usually does the trick to catch on sleep.

You woke up earlier than your alarm clock so you decided to make yourself a cup of coffee to drink while you made your way to your condo’s balcony. Your peripheral vision caught on your new neighbor who was taking in the view with a smile.

‘So that’s what my neighbor looks like’ you thought.

He turns his head towards you, almost shocked that you were also staring at him. He nods coyly at you which you returned.

“Good morning,” you greeted him.

“Oh uh yeah, hi. Good morning,” he looked like he was stunned, his face painted a lot of emotions but mostly confusion.

“I’ve never seen you come out to your balcony,” you couldn’t help but say it. In your defense, you were kind of curious.

“I’m always outside, just not here,” he shrugs.

“I’m Jimin by the way”

“Y/N. Good to finally see you, neighbor,” you raise your cup of coffee at him.

You don’t know what was happening but ever since your small interaction with him, it became so frequent that it was almost as if part of your routine. On nights when your insomnia came to visit you again, you spent long hours talking to Jimin on the balcony. The space between your railings didn’t bother the both of you. It felt nice to have sensible conversations with a stranger. It’s also a plus that Jimin was funny. Tonight was one of those nights.

“Can’t sleep?” His voice catches your attention.

“Mmm, just insomnia things,” he chuckles at your response.

“I think you should see a sleep doctor for that”

“There’s no such thing as a sleep doctor, Jimin,” you laughed but he shrugs.

“Whatever they call it, you need to see one. Missing out on sleep is bad for your health”

“It’s fine I don’t plan on living forever anyways,” he frowns.

“Hey don’t say that. A lot of people still want to live, you know?”

You didn’t mean to make it sound so dark like that but you remembered your friend’s cousin who died tragically. Suddenly, you felt guilty with what you said.

“No, like, I meant living up to 60 years old or something”

“60 is a good number,” Jimin smiles at you.

“How about you?”

He didn’t answer quickly, he just stayed silent and looked sad. “I don’t really know where life takes me but I wish not too soon,” his voice was laced with sadness and uncertainty. “There are a lot of things I still wanna do.”

“Like what?” He hesitated to answer but you were all ears. “Come on, I’ve got plenty of time to listen if you wanna go through all of it one by one”

He sighs deeply, “I still want to travel with my friends or maybe go camping with them, I wanna have my own cafe, maybe get to know you even more if time permits”

You blushed at the last sentence, “We’ve got plenty of time, Jimin.”

Jimin just smiled at you, cherishing the memories of all the nights you both spent by the balcony. He was grateful that for once in his life he met someone as amazing as you. He even thought you’d make the perfect girlfriend if only things weren’t as complicated as they were.

“Good night, Y/N. It was lovely talking to you,” he smiles at you with sad eyes. “I’m gonna miss you when I move out.”

You frowned, “You’re moving out? When? Where?”

“I’m moving in there tomorrow. I found this new place but it's not as great as this one, there’s no talkative neighbors like you there,” he bitterly chuckles.

You wanted to cry because you had grown attached to him and all the conversations you’ve shared for the last four years. Not having Jimin waiting outside by his balcony to have another late night talk about the dumbest of things would feel like a huge shift in your everyday life.

“O-oh, okay. I hope you’ll like it there,” your lips trembled but quickly turned into shock when Jimin climbed up the railings to cross over to your side.

“Jimin–”

“Hi,” he flashes a boyish grin. He cups your face with both hands, his thumbs wiping away the tears that stained your cheeks. “Thank you for talking to me, Y/N. I’m gonna miss you”

You meet his gaze with eyes still glinting, “I..I’m gonna miss you too, Jimin.”

You wrapped your arms around his waist and held him tightly. Not once have you ever shook hands with him when you greeted him the first time or the rest of the nights where all you both did were raise glasses at each other, sometimes watching each other through squinted eyes as both of you danced like a bunch of goofs on a prom night – all your interactions with him were in a distance, within arms reach yet it still seemed too fat away from each other.

This is the first time you and Jimin have finally touched each other with no space in between the two of you. You pulled him closer, taking in his scent and warmth. Strangers come and go but Jimin was the only one who made a mark in your life. He wraps his arms around your waist and squeezes you, making you giggle.

“This feels nice,” he says almost in a whisper. He looks into your eyes once more, “I always knew your eyes were a different shade of hazel”

“A different shade?”

“Yeah, when the sun hits it’s golden. When the moon kisses your face, it’s coffee with a hint of milk,” you giggled.

“A hint of w-what...the fuck?” You both laughed, still not breaking the embrace. “Uhh Jimin?”

“Mmm?”

“Would you like to stay over for the night? We could, uhm, cuddle?”

There was a long pause before he replied. He thought about it carefully before giving his answer, “Sure, why not? But I’ll have to leave early tomorrow so I won’t wake you up anymore.”

‘Well that’s sad,’ you mentally sighed but nodded nonetheless.

You curled up in his arms on the couch all through the night, surfing through countless movies from a certain ‘Best Films of All Time’ list you found online but only ending up watching three at most before you dozed off in the middle of the third movie. Jimin watched your sleeping figure, tucking away the stray hairs that curtained your face. He kissed your forehead for the last time before he slowly pulled himself away. Before he makes his exit, he makes sure to leave a sticky note by your fridge for you to read so you wouldn’t be too sad when you wake up without any sight of him.

You woke up to the sound of shuffling from the Jimin’s unit, ‘They’re probably moving all his things out now’

You slowly made your way to your door to take a peek. Your curiosity turned to surprise when you saw your best friend standing outside Jimin’s unit’s doorway, “Hey, Are we neighbors now?”

It was a relief to have a friend living next door again. You cheekily grinned at your friend but it quickly faltered when she gave you a confused look.

“I wish we were but I’m just getting my cousin’s stuff,” you cocked a brow.

“Cousin?”

“Yeah, my cousin who died four years ago. The funeral you attended.”

You were still not getting it. All you knew was Jimin was moving out to settle in his new place he says is nicer than this one.

“This is my cousin Jimin’s unit. I’m just here to help pack away his things because his parents are putting it up for sale.”

You stood there frozen, still unable to digest the information you just heard. Jimin was the cousin your friend mourned. Jimin was your neighbor who held you close last night. Jimin’s dead and it’s been for four years but you could’ve sworn you spent the last four years sharing drinks and stories with him every single night.

“I– I’m sorry, I’ll head back inside for a bit.”

Legs wobbled as you took long strides back inside your unit. Your hand covered your mouth in utter disbelief. How can he be dead when he spent the night with you here? On top of that, he didn’t even feel like he was dead. He felt like any regular person would; warm and cuddly. Your hands held onto your fridge for support only to slip, making a note fall off.

You crouched down slowly to pick up the yellow sticky note to read what was on it. Written in black ink were: Hey Y/N, I’m sorry if I’m leaving so soon. I didn’t want to see you sad again before I go. Take care alright? Love you :) - J

You couldn’t help it anymore. You bawled your eyes out at a loss that was never yours. A loss that was an open ended ending for the both of you. Your best friend hears your cries and rushes to your door, knocking profusely.

“Y/N? It’s me! Open up!”

You got up and tried to wipe your tears but to no avail; your tears were like raindrops, constantly raining down on your face. With bloodshot eyes and heaving breath, you opened the door and quickly hugged your best friend tightly.

“What’s wrong?”

“Jimin he’s–” your friend looks at you worriedly until it finally hits her.

“Y/N?”

“Y-yes?” You sniffed.

“Have you been seeing ghosts again?” you shook your head.

There were two things you were scared of – looking at caskets and ghosts. The fallacy of unfounded beliefs never scared you except for ghosts. You were born with an open third eye and interacted with them as if they were amongst the living going on with their roundabouts like they did when they were still alive. You didn’t exactly know your friend’s pain when she lost a loved one but you understood the feeling of losing people; the ghosts you’ve been friends with.

When a lost spirit marks its fourth year anniversary of wandering the world of the living, their spirit just vanishes seemingly like another death. Out of all the lost souls that were once strangers to you but you befriended – all of them came and went by their fourth year – Jimin was the only one who made a mark in your life. Ghosts aren’t so bad especially when they’re the only friends you have left when everyone else is busy with their own lives but departing from them for good is what scares you constantly.

The day you tell anyone again you still see spirits will be the last time you’re seeing one ever again.

throne of a sinner

pairing : yandere king! jungkook x servant! reader

summary : The people of the palace have been waiting for the king to choose his ideal queen. However, the fact that you approved of this as much as the others perplexed and angered him. So he proved how much he desired you to be his queen; no one would refuse you the throne, right? with your stomach growing with his child.

warnings : yandere themes, explicit smut, non con/dub con, infidelity?, innocent! reader, reader can’t speak due to child trauma, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, impregnation, slight age gap, manipulation, mention of murder and blood, somnophilia, drugging, pregnancy symptoms.

word count : 8k

The sun lowering, heralding the advent of darkness. stealing the light from you, your shaky arms almost giving up from the constant hard work of doing the laundry.  When the sun had softly slipped away, you’d always fasten your work. The night isn’t for you. 

You aren’t terrified of the darkness nor the creepy aura it exudes. When you were a kid, it was always enthralling and comforting to you. The birds noisily chirping, the stars dancing in the sky—it was all beautiful, until it was tarnished. 

Keep reading

exile (ksj)

Summary- When Seokjin sees you with your new boyfriend, all he wants is to get you back. Based on the song exile by Taylor Swift.

So step right out, there’s no amount of crying that I can do for you.

word count- 2.8k

pairing- ex!Seokjin x Reader, Namjoon x Reader

rating- PG-13

genre- angst, breakup au, exes au

warnings- none

a.n- so I was listening to exile in the forest and somehow, somewhere it turned into this short fic. enjoy the angst! :) 

special s/o to @oftenderweapons for beta reading this and screaming at me and with me for seokjins petty ass. love that about us lol Also, @kithtaehyung​ for encouraging me every time I write Seokjin.

As always feedback appreciated, a reblog and a like goes a far way. Send me an ask! 💌

-

Kim Seokjin wasn’t one to fall in love. He never thought he would feel something that was reserved for cheesy rom coms in his life. The thought that someone could invade his life and he’d let them was jarring — uncomfortable. He enjoyed his space, the fact that his apartment was something that he had created himself from scratch, his hard work manifesting as possessions that reflected him. From the leather couch he had dropped a pretty penny on to the marble coffee table he had his eye on since he was just an undergraduate student. Everything was perfect.

He hadn’t even noticed when you had invaded his home, how you had first left a purple toothbrush next to his black one, and then your clothes in his closet, and then bought colourful throw pillows that accented his bachelor pad. Every inch of his apartment had been touched by you, and he had failed to notice.

Until one day when every bit of you was gone. Without a trace. As if you hadn’t ever been there.

Keep reading

how do u think satoru would react to reader in a depressive episode, especially what do u think the kids would do

obviously, they’ve all noticed.

the past couple of weeks have not been lived through ignorantly. and you have not been acting normal.

the differences are just that, at first. tiny inconsistencies in your otherwise normal personality, your routine.

and then it becomes more than just a… change.

it starts off simple; megumi’s brows furrowing when you ask him a question—something about his teacher, or what kind of drink he wants in his lunch that day—and then forget what you’ve just said as soon as he answers.

tsumiki watching, smiling along idly, as you rub your temples, sighing with every other sentence and squeezing your eyes tight like you’ll be able to wake up if you try hard enough.

and satoru noticing when you linger in your room a bit longer, as the days pass. staring when you freeze looking at the wall in the morning, zoning out so hard that he has to shake you back to life.

just an accumulation of things that might indicate that something is up.

but as these moments—moments when you’re lost in your head, trying to conceal your entire being from all of them, and pretending that it’s all normal—increase, the three of them learn a little something about observing.

and lying to themselves, of course.

eventually, though, when megumi or tsumiki inevitably say something—usually when you’re not in the room, off hiding somewhere—satoru just shrugs.

(he’s going to lie his way through this, just like everything else, thank you).

“it’s a bad day,” he’ll say, like the two children will comprehend that. like they don’t know what a bad day means. “she’s just tired.”

he could make a million excuses for you. oh, you didn’t get enough sleep last night. oh, you’ve only had one cup of coffee today. oh, the world is a truly terrible place and it’s only natural that it runs you down.

but he leaves them with the simplest of explanations, instead. maybe it’s his subtle way of denying that there’s anything wrong. that you could be upset about something. it doesn’t matter, anyway.

and tsumiki, ever so trusting of all of you, listens to him. if satoru says that you’re okay, then so does she. she’ll draw you a picture at school or try to help you make their lunches in the morning, but you’re fine. her questions end with an answer.

megumi, on the other hand, has never believed a word that satoru has said.

so when the older man swears that you’re okay, that they don’t need to worry, megumi only begins to worry harder.

he sees that look on your face when you walk in the room, and megumi knows. maybe it’s because he’s the most attuned to you, out of everyone, in particular. maybe it’s because he’s observant, or too worrisome for his age (as you tell him).

but he knows.

and if satoru says one thing, megumi’s going to believe the other.

(plus the two of you have always had a symbiotic relationship. you worry about him, and he worries about you. you laugh at him, and he gives a little lip twitch in return).

so satoru is not surprised when megumi brings it up for the fourth time in a week.

“you want me to what, exactly?”

“you can talk to them, can’t you?” he repeats, giving satoru a bland look. something like ‘are you serious.’ “they know you.”

satoru snorts. “i don’t think my bosses will appreciate me telling them what they can or can’t do.”

megumi gives him another look.

and yeah, so satoru already does that. they still don’t appreciate it.

he sighs, smiling at the boy. anything to mess with him, really. he ruffles megumi’s hair. “kid, she’s fine. i can’t just tell them to give her a couple of weeks off. there has to be a reason. and,” he adds, cheerfully. “i’ve been told it’s impolite to speak on someone’s behalf without their input.”

“you don’t care about being polite,” megumi argues, crossing his arms.

satoru groans internally. he’s really not going to let this go.

it’s not that satoru necessarily disagrees, but anything he does to help you is going to be refuted with a “butt out,” or “leave me alone, satoru.”

“true,” he says, grinning as he mocks the boys stance. “but i do care about being yelled at. particularly by your mother.”

“she needs a break.”

satoru rolls his eyes. “she’s getting one. the next couple of days are free, and she’s taking a nap right now.”

megumi frowns, even deeper than usual, and stares satoru down until he breaks.

“megumi,” the man groans, childishly, pushing the boy out of the room. “you don’t need to worry about her. chill out. just go back to reading about rocks or whatever you were doing.”

“it’s geology.”

satoru waves a hand, indifferent.

(secretly trying to come up with a way to get you to talk to him. he can’t ask because you’ll just ignore him. he can’t force it out of you because that would get the two of you nowhere.

what other options are left, really? you’ve put satoru in a terrible position).

“then can we get something, instead?” megumi asks, almost pleading. “flowers, or… whatever girls like.”

“y/n already has flowers. i bought them.”

“buy something else.”

“who taught you to be this stubborn?”

megumi only scowls at him.

satoru sighs, scratching his head. he knows he should do something—but he’s so used to sitting around and waiting for you to fix everything.

yes, he does recognize that it’s a terrible habit, and completely unfair. he also recognizes that he is the worst person in the world.

eventually he sighs. “okay. how about i order dinner?” he asks, almost wincing. it’s the most natural response—everything can be fixed with food, in satoru’s sophisticated opinion. “that’ll be easy. want to go ask mom what she wants?”

megumi practically runs to your room, leaving satoru with no time to remind him that you’re probably asleep, knocking just briefly—from what satoru can hear—before going in.

he tip-toes up to the door, also wanting to check in.

satoru is nothing if not nosy.

and he might as well let megumi do all of the dirty work.

“um, i don’t care,” he hears you saying. “whatever you guys want.”

“it’s for you.”

there’s a pause. then, “really, megs, i’m not very hungry, so…”

megumi is frowning down at you when satoru steps in.

“good nap?” he asks, smiling and sitting at the edge of your bed.

“you don’t need to get dinner. it’s my turn.”

he waves a hand. “i feel like takeout.”

you frown, about to argue when megumi speaks up, glancing between the two of you with an almost furious expression.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, his voice soft but mad. like usual. satoru realizes that he’s been tricked into contributing to this.

“what?”

“why are you upset?”

“upset?” you repeat, eyes widening. “i’m not upset, megu—“

“are you sick?”

“no,” you say, immediately. “i’m just a little tired but it’s—“

“megumi,” satoru interrupts, trying to ignore the almost hurt look on your face—the glance you send his way, pleading and worried. he knows you hate this the most. “let’s let mom sleep some more, okay? tsumiki and you can decide what you want—“

“no.”

and neither of you can argue, or console the confused boy, before he’s climbing into your bed with a determined look on his face.

satoru tried to grab on to him, but megumi is having none of that, shaking him off before he can get a good grip. you’re looking at satoru anxiously, and this is the worst.

if satoru knows anything about you, it’s that you don’t want to be coddled. you don’t want to accept any help, even if it’s from your sweet, concerned son.

“megumi—“ you say, though, satoru notes, don’t make any attempts to move him when he struggles to get under the covers with you, or when he just sits by your side, barely touching you.

“i’m staying here.”

“really, bud, i’m okay. you don’t need to worry about me.”

“you’re sad.”

“i’m not.”

megumi looks at you, and satoru watches as you both share a glance. an internal conversation he’ll never get to be apart of.

for once in his life he’s not even jealous about it.

“it’s…” you say, but the two boys watch as your shoulders slack and your face drops. all at once, you lose color, life, and just sit there. “it’s fine.”

you say it to them, but it sounds more like a reminder to yourself.

satoru’s face falls. he has no idea what to say, what to do to help you—he’s spent so much time denying that there was anything wrong, that he could do anything to help, and now he’s got no answers.

he feels like an idiot, sitting there. megumi shouldn’t be taking more initiative, he should be the one worrying about you, the one to go to—

megumi doesn’t say anything though. he only moves closer to you, not complaining when your arm wraps around his shoulder and you hold him to you.

like a life vest. a support in all of the vastness.

he doesn’t need to say ‘it’s okay,’ or ‘i’m here for you,’ for the words to ring out across the the air.

and, satoru realizes, quickly, he’s only doing what you do for them. what you do best.

climbing in beside them and making sure they know that they’re not alone. being that support, no matter how unwanted.

megumi’s learned from the best.

“sorry,” you mutter to him. “i know im gross.”

megumi shakes his head and settles into you even further. and the boy doesn’t cuddle—or, at least, without being forced—but your face softens as he leans against you, allowing this kind of intimacy.

and, maybe, satoru thinks, that’s the problem with all of you.

no one knows quite what to say. what to do to help someone with something that they can’t understand. neither he or megumi is sure how to dig you out of this hole.

none of you are very good with words.

but, at least, satoru knows how to be good at this.

he sets his glasses on your bedside table, and he moves you both over with ease, smiling when you both grunt at his intrusion.

and then you’re a tower of people, all leaning against one another. building blocks stacked on top of each other.

you relax into satoru almost instantly and he kisses the top of your head, feeling some sort of pride—just at the fact that you’ll let him be here, with you.

maybe that’s the thing with families, he thinks. no one needs to say anything for it to be okay.

and the uneasiness sits there with all of you. the past couple of weeks—the distancing and disassociating—linger there.

there’s nothing he can say to make everything all better. he could destroy the entire world right now, save for your house, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

but this is nice. a hug might not fix everything, but it won’t make anything worse

and after a minute or two, you say: “where’s tsumiki?”

and she peeks her head out from your door, smiling at all three of you. it takes her three seconds to jump on the bed, having been waiting there the whole time, the final piece to your messed up puzzle.

"Cleaning up?" Geto asks with a curious tilt of his head, watching as you lift another framed photograph from your bedside table. You smile, turning on your heel.  

"Yeah, that and I wanted to replace a couple of the pictures," you answer, gesturing to the photo frames lying face up on your bed. Geto follows your gaze, humming thoughtfully. "Want to help me pick them out?" 

Geto smiles, closing the distance between you both and placing a sweet kiss against your forehead. Your arms wrap around his waist, holding him close to you. His eyes wander down to the photograph in your hands – it was one of you, himself, Nanako, and Mimiko.  

Nanako and Mimiko are hanging off of Geto's outstretched arms, their lips turned upward in bright smiles. You're standing just in front of Geto, hands hovering beneath the twin girls just in case either one of them were to fall.  

"Don't replace that one," Geto says suddenly, reaching a larger hand out and taking the frame from you. He smiles at it, then returning it to your hand. You chuckle breathily, stepping out of his embrace and turning to glance at the other photographs you had laid out on your bed.  

"I like that one too. But what about these?" 

You receive no answer. 

"Sugu?" You turn back to where he had been standing, tilting your head curiously. The space he occupied was empty.  

"Mama? Who are you talkin' to?" Nanako peeks her head into your bedroom, her eyebrows pinching together in confusion as she pushes your door open. You still, eyes flickering down to the frame in your hands. Your fingers tighten over it, eyes pricking with tears. "Mama?" 

"Nothin' honey," you reply tearfully, smiling shakily at her as you swipe the backs of your knuckles against your eyes.  

"It was nobody." 

“WHERE IS MY WIFE?”

♡ — 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: curses & curse users have discovered satoru’s greatest weakness, and it’s you, satoru’s sweet, ordinary housewife. after getting kidnapped by gojo’s enemies, he’ll do whatever it takes to get you back.

♡ — 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: 18+ only - mdni - slightly dark content // brief smut, fem reader, feral gojo, canon-typical violence, reader gets kidnapped, reader is wounded/has injuries, angst, fluff/comfort

♡ — 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 5K

♡ —𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: I’d count grains of sand if it meant I could spend one minute alone with feral gojo (:

As evening fell, and after a delicious dinner was eaten at the dining table downstairs, Satoru was in the mood for something else now — you.

His pretty housewife would be his dessert.

The apple pie you baked was sitting on the dark marbled counter of the kitchen island, two big slices missing — and the vanilla ice cream tub in the freezer had, of course, two hefty spherical digs in it where the cold treat was scooped out — but, even after his stomach was stuffed after a hard day of fighting curses and teaching his students, Satoru’s head was buried in between your soft thighs, satisfying his other craving.

As your husband moaned softly, his tongue danced around your aching clit. His large hand massaged your thigh. The moonlight pouring in through the big bedroom window shined upon his wedding ring, making it glisten as he rubbed your delicate skin.

“I’ll never get tired of tasting you,” Satoru smiled a bit, his warm breath patting against your wet folds.

“You were made just for me. God, I love it. I love you.”

Two long fingers sunk into your awaiting hole. He attached his soft lips to your clit, sucking on it.

One of your hands gripped at the luxurious pale-cerulean sheets, while your other hand gripped his hair, fingers getting lost in his white locks.

“Satoru!” A sharp moan escaped your dried throat.

Every little noise you made — every moan, every squeak of the thick mattress — it all boasted his desire to please you.

He didn’t stop his licking-sucking-fingering combo until your legs were trembling around his head and he was satisfied with tasting your juices.

Only after devouring your pussy like a starving man feasting on a buffet-style dinner did he rise from his position and make his way across the bed, hovering over you.

With a smile, Satoru leaned down and planted a soft kiss against your lips. But, when he pulled away, he was met with an amused look of disgust.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, furrowing his brows a bit.

“You just kissed me after eating me out,” you said with a little, playful grimace. “That’s nasty.”

“Mrs. Gojo, I mean this in the most respectful way possible, but hush.” Satoru lightly tapped your forehead. “You have swallowed plenty of my-”

“Ah, ah, ah,” shaking your head, you cut off your husband’s naughty sentence, pressing your hand against his lips.

The corners of your mouth burned as you tried to fight off a smile. His latest affectionate nickname was Mrs. Gojo — although it truly wasn’t a nickname due to it technically being your name now — and at every given opportunity, he addressed you that way.

Even after two years of marriage, he was as excited as a freshly wedded man. Your love was a never-ending honeymoon.

You stared into Satoru’s striking blue eyes. He darted his gaze across your gorgeous face, illuminated by the moonlight, and as you ran your fingers through his white hair and he ran his thumb across your cheek, both of you close enough to feel the gentle pats of each other’s breaths on your mesmerizing faces, you both fell in love with each other just a bit more — if that was even possible.

“Can I fuck you now?”

Satoru’s question made a sudden chuckle spilled out from between your lips. He couldn’t help but laugh too.

“You’re a buffoon. I’m trying to admire your beauty and that’s what you open your mouth to say?” You playfully frowned.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard a human being call another human being a buffoon out loud before.”

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes humorously. “We need to do our skincare routine first. We have to do it an hour before we go to bed or else we might just rub all the product off. I read that somewhere.”

“Why didn’t we do it before we got into bed in the first place?” Satoru buried his head in the crook of your neck, pouting, but taking a moment to press a little kiss onto your skin.

“Because you were acting as if you were dying of poison and eating me out was the antidote, so I forgot.” you giggled softly.

“Fine, fine,” your husband slowly rolled off of you in defeat. “Skincare routine, nothing more. Please don’t start trying to organize the bath towels.”

“I’m not making any promises,” you said, getting out of bed and following Satoru into the master bathroom.

There, you and your husband stood in front of the big mirror, cleansing and moisturizing your skin as you both chatted about his students, a movie you watched three days ago, and your breakfast plans in the morning.

And it was those sweet little moments that made Satoru’s heart skip a beat. As he flickered his eyes over to your reflection, watching your smother smooth white cream all over your face as you rambled on about a new egg recipe, he couldn’t help but think about how much he loved you.

—

6:00 A.M.

That night ended with soft sex and gentle kisses.

That morning, Satoru’s white eyelashes fluttered open to the early morning sun starting to rise, casting rays through the drawn window curtains and across his comforter.

He squinted his eyes and yawned.

Typically, he was the sort of man who would never wake up at the ungodly hour if he could help it, but the tantalizing aroma of fresh coffee and sizzling eggs had traveled from the kitchen downstairs to right underneath his nose.

Tossing on his blue houseboat, the grumpy-faced man dragged himself into the kitchen, greeting you with a slightly gruff morning voice and a messy head of hair.

“Good morning, baby,” Satoru walked around the kitchen island and loosely wrapped his arms around your waist, hugging you from behind. “How’d you sleep? I had a nightmare.”

With a spatula in one hand, you flipped the omelet in the skillet on the six-burner stove. With the other hand, you rubbed his arm, enjoying the warmth his hovering hug had brought.

“I slept alright,” you said. “Did the smell wake you up?”

“Always does,” he smiled lazily although you couldn’t see it.

“Well, your drink’s ready,” you gave a nod in the general direction of the silver espresso machine, which hummed as it brewed Satoru’s steamy beverage.

“I don’t deserve you,” Satoru’s arms hugged you tighter, and he showered the side of your head with kisses.

“Stop it,” your sweet laughter only egged him on as you clenched the spatula and leaned back against him even more. “No fooling around when we’re this close to the stove.”

Satoru eventually backed away after giving you one final kiss against your forehead temple.

“If all goes well, I should be back home tomorrow before dark, then we can check out that new restaurant. What do you say? I personally think it’s time for a date.”

The image of you and Satoru sipping on wine and as you wore your favorite dress flashed in your mind, and you smiled. A date night was certainly something to look forward to in light of Satoru’s overnight trip.

Sorcering duties had often taken him on distant work trips. Truth be told, you were lucky his departure would only last around twenty-four hours and not twenty-four days. Although you missed him whenever he would leave, you understood his choice of career. He was a hero.

You happened to be an ordinary human being. You couldn’t see curses. You couldn’t use cursed energy or cursed techniques, but you were fine with that.

“A date sounds fun! I’m excited now.” You took the omelet out of the skillet and placed it on a nearby plate. “And we’re making time to try out that new pottery class too. It sounds like such a cute date idea, don’t you think so?”

“I’m with you. I’ll make the reservations for the restaurant, you can schedule us for pottery-making.” This time, he was the one blissfully picturing you and him spinning messy clay with him sitting behind you and reaching around your body for the pottery wheel, your fingers intertwined as you both created a pot. Satoru smiled at the thought. “Anyway, now that you’re done cooking, can I kiss you?”

You nodded with a cheeky grin, and your husband pressed his lips against yours sweetly.

It was as if some part of him was frightened that he would never get the opportunity to kiss you again.

—

8:37 P.M.

The bright light far above your head flickered briefly as you stood in the pasta aisle at your local grocery store, but you hadn’t noticed it, too fixated on the different brands of spaghetti noodles lying on the shelf above you.

Shopping at night wasn’t preferable, but only after tossing together a simmering pan of sauce did you realize you hadn’t started boiling your noodles yet.

And, with your pot of simmering water ready, you opened the cabinet to see no noodles.

So, here you were, making a last-minute, unplanned trip to the grocery store.

By now, the only sort of pasta noodles left were the ones that a person of average height couldn’t reach. Every box was too high.

You turned your head to the left and to the right.

You even bothered to walk down a few aisles to search for an employee or anyone who might have been tall enough to reach your needed item, but the only other person staggering around was an older blonde-haired woman who was shorter than you were.

Frowning in frustration, you returned to the pasta aisle.

If you had to climb the shelves, so be it.

Suddenly, a kind voice spoke over the calming public-friendly background music playing softly in the store.

“Need some help?”

Whipping your head around, you saw a person — a taller person, thank goodness — who had a smile that was just as sweet as his voice.

“Yes, thank you!” You found that his grin was rather contagious, as you ended up smiling as well. “I just need the spaghetti noodles on the top shelf. Any brand will do.”

The beaming man with long, dark hair stepped forward, and you moved to the side, letting the apparent hero save your day.

He pulled down your desired spaghetti noodles with ease.

“Thanks for your help. My spaghetti sauce won’t go to waste now,” you said politely.

Your eyes darted up to the stitched scar across his forehead, then quickly, you glanced away.

“You’re welcome. Have a good night.”

The man walked down the aisle and left.

There was something familiar about him, oddly enough.

That hair . . . that smile . . .

He reminded you of an old, deceased friend of Satoru’s, one that you hadn’t ever met due to his villainous behavior before his death, but you had seen an old picture of him that he and your husband took during their second year at Jujutsu High, years ago.

As you placed the pasta noodles into your cart, making your way around different aisles to collect a few more items since you were already at the store, you decided that you’d take another look at that photograph once you arrived home, just for peace of mind.

The brown paper bag stuffed with groceries felt rather heavy as you walked down the street, which was brightened by light pouring out of the windows of local businesses that hadn’t yet closed.

You sighed softly.

The dark sky was sparkling with stars. The air was cool and comforting. Soon, you’d have pasta, and perhaps, you’d watch a few episodes of your favorite binge-worthy Netflix show.

If only Satoru was with you.

Chatting with him on the phone a few hours ago only made you miss him even more, but, at least his trip would be a quick one, and soon, you could have dinner with him and listen to his hilarious commentary as you watched television together.

After walking for around five minutes, you were no longer close to the local businesses that made you feel a sense of comfort during your evening stroll.

Now, you had to rely on the occasional streetlight to guide you home.

But that cold air was no longer comforting. It was a chilling breeze that made you clench your grocery bag a bit tighter.

Your footsteps suddenly halted — you could hear something moving in the nearby bushes.

Turning around, you were greeted with nothing but darkness and streetlights. No one else was with you. You kept walking.

However, something wasn’t right.

You might not have been a sorcerer, but you weren’t a fool.

And you had a gut-wrenching feeling that right now, as your wobbly legs guided you home, you were being watched.

You heard that noise again.

The grocery bag crinkled against your chest. You were certain that the bread you purchased was squished by now. If someone was following you, did you really want to unintentionally lead them to your home?

Where should you go? What should you do?

A tear rolled down your cheek from fear.

You were scared. You only wanted to go home, finish your pasta, and watch television.

You didn’t want to deal with such a potentially terrifying situation.

Pulling out your phone, you opened your dial screen.

Your trembling thumb hovered over the buttons, but before you could press anything, a black, disfigured curse appeared in front of you, screeching loudly enough to make you drop everything in your hands and cover your ears, more tears falling as the horrifying monster started to charge at you.

You tried to run in the other direction, but it was too late.

The last thing you saw before you were engulfed by darkness was that man from the grocery store standing on the sidewalk, that same sweet smile on his familiar face.

—

12:27 A.M.

Satoru’s eyes snapped open. He couldn’t remember falling asleep, as he had spent most of the night tossing and turning because you weren’t lying next to him. But, apparently, he did manage to catch a couple of hours of shut-eye.

When he awakened, there was a terrible ache in his heart. Dread pooled in the pit of his stomach, and beads of sweat decorated his forehead. His throat was dried to a crisp.

He was all alone in his dark hotel room.

He couldn’t hear you.

He couldn’t see you.

And yet, somehow, someway, thanks to his great power, he knew that his wife was calling for him.

—

The overwhelming scent of old, wet, musky wood and dust would never be forgotten by your memory. A lifetime of therapy would never be able to erase the paralyzing fear you felt, sitting on the cold, hard ground of an abandoned cabin with your hands bound behind your back.

Maybe the fear wasn’t completely paralyzing, though. Your body seemed to tremble with terror just fine.

The sight of it made Suguru Geto — no, Kenjaku chuckle.

He kept his eye on you for no other reason besides his entertainment, as watching you himself was pointless considering he had two frightening curses looming over you.

Once, Satoru shared a fun fact with you: regular human beings cannot see curses unless they are about to die.

That fact was certainly interesting when the two of you were strolling through the beautiful park, a red and white striped blanket in your hand and a picnic basket in his. But, now, that fact only made sweat drip off of your scarred forehead, because you could see the two, black, disfigured curses.

It was a telltale sign that you could die.

“I haven’t had the displeasure of meeting him myself,” Kenjaku suddenly spoke, relaxing in a chair he had positioned a few feet away from the corner you were trapped in. “But I have seen memories of Satoru Gojo that belonged to this body I’ve inhabited. And, I must say, I couldn’t imagine that his wife would be such a weakling. It’s truly pathetic.”

Even if you wanted to reply to him, fear had snatched away your ability to speak. It created a lump in your throat that couldn’t be swallowed down.

“My best guess is that he needs someone boring and ordinary in his life to keep house while he’s busy saving the world. You’re just the cook and maid with a ring on her finger, hm?”

“He loves me.”

Your voice was small — it was a painfully perfect reflection of how you felt on the inside. Weak and pathetic.

“Oh?” Kenjaku raised his eyebrows, smiling slightly. “Believe it or not, I hope you’re right, or else kidnapping you was a waste of time.”

Your chains rattled as you shifted in your spot on the floor, scooting as far into the corner as you could get. An ache shot up your spine from the wall pressing into your back. Pulling your knees to your chest, more tears slipped from your eyes.

“Aw, don’t cry,” he falsely cooed. “Surely you’ve wondered why the world’s strongest sorcerer would settle for someone who forgets to double-check all of their ingredients before they start cooking, haven’t you? It’s not because of love, or anything of the sort. It’s because those who are deeply insecure would do anything to please anyone who looks their way. Only an ordinary, desperate housewife with low self-esteem and no ambition would waste time caring for a man who risks his life saving strangers. What would make you think he cares for you when he spends more time with curses than his own wife? Helping strangers more than his own family? Think about it.”

Kenjaku’s hurtful words were met with silence, but he didn’t stop speaking.

“I bet you’re nothing but a burden to him. Someone like him probably hates being tied down, but marrying a fool who contributes nothing to society is the only way he can get someone else to handle his laundry while he’s busy working hard, hm? He must carry around divorce papers, ready to serve them to you the day you forget to buy detergent from the grocery store.” Kenjaku’s smile brightened. “Oh, that reminds me. You dropped your detergent and other groceries on the road earlier, by the way. Looks like you’re useless now.”

“You . . .” your teary eyes flickered from him to the hovering curses. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. None of that’s true.”

“You have to believe that I’m speaking honestly, Y/N.” Kenjaku sighed with fake sincerity. “My entire plan rests on the hope that Satoru Gojo is foolish enough to try to rescue you. You see, when you want to lure someone out, the proper way to do it is by discovering their weaknesses. When I found out about you, I was hoping that you would be his weakness. That I could use you to lure him out. Then I met you, and, well, you’re simply disappointing. Sorry to break it to you, but I have memories of the old conversations Satoru used to have with Suguru, and being tied down to a powerless housewife was certainly not how he imagined his future. But, I figured I’d try anyway, and so here you are, and he’s not here to rescue you. What a shame. I bet he’s hoping I’ll kill you so he’ll be free.”

He was lying. He had to be. Satoru loved you more than anything . . . right?

The thought had crossed your mind before; why did Satoru want to be with someone powerless? And this villain’s plan to lure out your husband relied on his hope that he’d come to rescue you out of love, so how would it benefit him to convince you Satoru didn’t love you?

Maybe he was right.

After all, if Satoru cared for you, he would have saved you by now. Where was he?

You couldn’t help but cry even harder.

“Please let me go home,” your tears clouded your vision. “Please let me go.”

“Well, you should know that I hate wasting time,” Kenjaku rested his chin in the palm of his hand, elbow pressing into the arm of the chair he sat in. “I can’t let you leave. I won’t let the effort I put into kidnapping you be a total waste.”

Kenjaku’s smile widened, and suddenly, the curses started to move towards you.

—

1:45 A.M.

The subway station was isolated. No ordinary human beings were lurking around, and Satoru was relieved. Right now, he’d kill anyone who looked at him the wrong way.

His shoes gently shuffled against the ground as he made his way into the middle of the big, bright opening, and he clenched his fists, his nails digging into the skin of his palm, hard enough to draw blood.

Two special grade cursed spirits emerged. He recognized them both from a previous fight in the woods.

Volcano head. Asparagus.

“Satoru Gojo,” Jogo suddenly said. “We didn’t think you’d be foolish enough to-”

“Where is my wife?”

When Satoru interrupted the curse, his voice was low. Dark. Startling.

Blood dripped from his palms and splattered onto the ground.

“I was drawn here, but she isn’t here, is she? Where is she? Tell me now, and I’ll kill you quickly instead of slowly.”

Jogo chuckled a bit. Satoru dug his nails into his palm even more.

“Bring us the vessel, Yuji Itadori, and we’ll return that worthless-”

The two curses didn’t have time to blink — weren’t able to register in their minds that Satoru had moved from his previous spot until Jogo was lifted off of the ground and thrown into the flickering light fixture above, shattering it and causing sparks to rain down onto the ground below, where he then fell.

Satoru stepped on Jogo’s head, squishing it underneath his black shoe.

“I remember you. You’re stubborn, right?” Satoru gritted his teeth. “Who the hell do you think you are to take her from me? Whoever you work for must want you dead if they’re stupid enough to send you on a suicide mission. You think I’ll let you leave here alive after this?”

“If you kill us, you’ll never see her again,” the other cursed spirit, Hanami, suddenly spoke up. “Bring us the vessel, and she lives.”

When Satoru suddenly stopped moving, it was only to ensure that he had heard the cursed spirit correctly.

“Did you just threaten . . .” Satoru removed his blindfold, “to kill my wife?”

It was only a matter of time before the branches attached to Hanami’s head were ripped out, and Jogo was beheaded. The subway was reduced to nothing except crumbling walls and darkness. While the cursed spirits were teetering dangerously between life and death, there wasn’t a scratch on Satoru. Instead, there was a smile.

This was simply the consequence of their actions. This was what happened to anyone who laid a hand on his girl.

Hanami’s body was on the brink of collapse as it was forced to come in contact with Satoru’s cursed technique — a blue shield-like piece of infinity that distorted and manipulated both time and space, protecting the sorcerer from attacks and rendering Hanami powerless.

Hanami’s eyes darted over to their beheaded ally — they couldn’t help him.

“I’m going to ask you one last time,” Satoru’s eyes widened. His smile grew. He slowly turned, facing Hanami, and blasted him back against the nearest wall without lifting a finger. “Where is my wife?”

—

2:39 A.M.

Kenjaku had never understood the concept of love, and, perhaps, that was why he failed.

Satoru’s love for you was his weakness, that was true, but it also turned out to be his greatest strength, and this was a fight Kenjaku couldn’t win.

Not today.

One of his curses, which had been traveling to and fro to observe what was currently taking place in the subway station and reporting it back to Kenjaku, had informed him that Jogo and Hanami were on the brink of death.

He couldn’t lose them yet. They were too powerful, and he needed their help for his future plans.

Kenjaku left the cabin, taking his curses with him.

And, without their cursed energy purposely making it difficult for Satoru to find you, he was able to pinpoint your exact location.

It appeared in his powerful mind as he was ripping Hanami apart limb by limb, and he wasn’t a fool. He didn’t know who was behind all of this, but it was clear that the mastermind had suddenly decided to let your whereabouts be tracked down in order to save Hanami and Jogo.

He didn’t want to make that deal. He wanted to kill these two, bring them back to life, and kill them over again. Their pain brought him joy, all because they took part in your capture.

But Satoru didn’t want his bloodlust to backfire. After all, if he killed the cursed spirits now, the person who held you captive could change their mind and move you someplace else and hide your location yet again, or, worse — they could kill you.

That wasn’t a chance he was willing to take.

Satoru stopped using his technique. But, as he left the subway station, he promised himself that eventually, he would kill those two. He would kill anyone and everyone involved.

But you came first.

You would always come first.

—

He found you.

When Satoru kicked open the door belonging to a raggedy, abandoned cabin, the scent of blood overwhelmed him. It dirtied his boots as he kneeled by your side. Your unconscious, bleeding body was lying there, simply left on the ground as if you were nothing.

“Y/N . . .” Satoru called out breathlessly.

He took the chains off of you instantly, his bloodshot eyes darting over every gaping wound.

It was indescribable — the anger he felt. He wanted to return to the subway and finish off those cursed spirits, to make them suffer and suffer and suffer.

But tending to you took priority right now. Satoru scooped up your broken and bruised body, holding you as softly as he could. A tear fell from his eye, splattering against your cheek.

“I’ve got you, it’s okay,” he spoke gently.

Your eyelids fluttered as you awakened. An overwhelming sense of pain slammed into you once you regained consciousness, and hot tears streamed down your cheeks. Prior to this, the only pain you had ever known was the wholesome body ache from tripping and falling while playing outside with your friends as a child. But this level of misery took away your ability to speak. Left you wondering if you were going to die.

You could make out stains of your blood on Satoru’s clothes.

Even so, you could tell based on the pained look on his face that he was suffering even more just from seeing you in such a condition.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he mumbled, slowly getting off the ground as he carried you. “This is all my fault. They did this to you because of me. I’m so sorry.”

Satoru raised you a bit, gently pressing a soft kiss against your forehead.

He’d give anything to switch places with you right now — to be the one in unspeakable pain. Why couldn’t they have kidnapped him? Tortured him? If he had the power to take away your suffering and give it to himself, he would. For you, not only would he kill, but he’d die, repeatedly and without a second thought or a moment of hesitation.

As Satoru took you to the nearest hospital, his tears spilling onto your body, he said, “We’re almost there, okay? I promise I’ll make them pay for this, and no one will ever lay a hand on you again.”

Arriving into the uncomforting white halls of the emergency room, Satoru handed you off to the nurses and doctors who rushed up to him. But, before they placed you on the nearest stretcher, Satoru kissed your forehead once again as unconsciousness claimed you, and he whispered, “I love you, Y/N.”

—

10:02 A.M.

Two days later, you awakened in a hospital bed. This time, pain didn’t greet you, but grogginess and blurred vision. The gentle beeps from the nearby machines certainly didn’t help your pounding headache.

Your sight started to clear up after blinking a few times.

Soft strands of hair tickled your arm, and when you looked to your left, you saw Satoru slumped in a chair, his head resting in his arms on the side of your bed. You reached over and ruffled his messy white hair a bit.

He shot up, startled. His blue eyes were wide with alarm, then they softened with gratefulness, but, lastly, they darted down with sorrow.

“Y/N . . . thank god, you’re awake.” Satoru croaked out in his morning voice, clearing his throat a bit. He was dehydrated — too focused on your recovery to worry about himself. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m so . . .”

Satoru got out of his chair, sat on the side of your bed, and leaned over, resting the side of his head against your chest.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeated.

“It’s not your fault,” you mumbled weakly. “It’s mine.”

Satoru pulled his head away from you, staring at you with furrowed brows and a confused gaze.

“What? No, it’s not.”

You couldn’t find the courage to look him in the eye. Kenjaku’s words replayed in your mind. They hurt just as much as getting attacked by curses.

As if reading your thoughts, Satoru cupped your chin, turning your head back in his direction.

“Look at me,” he said. “What happened wasn’t your fault. I know what you’re thinking, and I don’t care if you can’t fight curses-”

“You’re just saying that . . . because I’m kinda useful to you. But I’m easily replaceable. Speaking honestly, I’m a burden. You had to come save my life, and put yourself in danger. I’m not worth it.”

“You think I married you because you’re useful?” Hurt flashed in Satoru’s piercing eyes. “I’m in love with you, and you’ll never be a burden. I don’t care if you can’t fight curses. You’re my wife for a reason, and that’s because there’s nothing greater than seeing you get excited over finding your favorite snack at the grocery store or seeing the way you smile when your favorite scene from a show comes on, and you sit there and watch it as if you haven't seen it a thousand times. I love the way your eyes light up when you find a new activity in town for us to try, or a new book to read, or a new recipe. God, I just . . . I love you. I love you more than anything. I don’t know how you’re able to put up with someone like me. Every day I wonder how I got so lucky because I don’t deserve you. You’re too good for me, and I haven’t met anyone as loving as you are. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Do you understand me? I’d kill and die for you.”

Satoru gently wiped away the tear that fell from your eyes with his thumb.

“I love you too,” you smiled softly, leaning into his touch. “I’m sorry we missed our dinner reservations and the pottery class.”

Satoru couldn’t help but lean in and kiss your cheek.

“I’ve already rescheduled two weeks out.”

Moving away from your cheek, your husband softly kissed your lips. And while he had spent time rescheduling your date night and making sure you were receiving the excellent care you deserved while in the hospital, he was also hard at work, tracking down the monsters that dared to lay a hand on you.

He would make them suffer.

🏷️: @sad-darksoul @priv-rose @yihona-san06 @keriaonmarz @luvvmae @underworldsheiress @notgoodforlife @levisfavoriteteashop @insomniacbehaivour @preciousamethyst @kxmorrx @iwanttohitmyself @shoyosdoll @lil-apple-pie @prettypixigrl @sonarspace @averysmolbear @starstoru @starlightanyaaa @dolphin1135 @nnasv @hyunorue

I couldn't resist posting this random thought while on hiatus, but here I go.

Just imagine married man Gojo smashing he baby mother who he cheated with on his wife.

It wasn't a mistake, but at the same time, it wasn't supposed to happen that way. It was only one time, a night drunk off ecstacy and pure lust, you found yourself locked up in the arms of a man you knew you should not be mingling with. That's how you ended up with his 7 month old baby.

He's married man, with a beautiful wife and an eight year old son. He was a loving man respected by his peers, loved by his peers until he announced that he knocked up "a" girl who worked in a diner at the far side of town.

Just as mentioned, it wasn't supposed to happened but it did, and now the baby's here and every so present in the life he has with the wife. People hoped that maybe, just maybe Gojo would've come to his senses and may change for the better.

But a leapord never changes it spots. You can't teach an old dog new tricks because as soon as you gave birth or even before you gave birth to your child, Gojo was living in your home, in womb day and night, feeding you with nothing but your cravings and that includes his cock. Not that you mind, even though his peers and his wife called you a home wrecker.

You never asked for this. As a matter of fact, Gojo chased you for months before he finally got to taste what between your legs, and once you gave it up to him, he just couldn't leave your side.

Besides, how could you possibly turn down the opportunity to be a rich man's sugar baby, married or not? You loved the money, the spoils (and also his dick).

What's a rich married man without a sugar baby hm. You loved it, though you know it's not a good look for you. But who cares? It's your life.

And despite the warnings you receive about mingling in a married man's affair, you're still there ever so present with him baby at your side, his arms around your shoulders and his lips against yours, kissing you as though his wife was watching you from across the room.

Oh yes, he does that. Inviting you out to events, flaunting that new designer dress and shoes, in front of his friends and colleagues, smiling ever so happily while holding your baby, his baby on your hip, just letting them know that you're not going anywhere soon.

Especially now that you're the mother of his second child, maybe even third, considering that he's currently pounding away at your sweet little cunt. Locked up in his bedroom at the west wing of his home, the Gojo estate. You're desperately throwing your hips back at him, tits heavy and filled with milk slapping harshly against your chest with each thrust.

And you're screaming, crying, from pleasure, thanking yourself for leaving your baby to sleep in the east wing with Gojo’s grandma while Gojo fucked the shit of you in the west. So mesmerized by the sight of your leaking nipples, Gojo pulled you up by your arms, his chest glat against your back and his arms draping over your chest to keep you pressed tightly against him as he continued to dig you out the right way.

So lost in pleasure, and calling him daddy desperately begging him to fill you up with his seed. His wife came bursting through the door, eyes bloodshot, hair a tangled mess, and oh that reeking odor. Alcohol? Whatever it is, it stinks? But that didn't stop Gojo from pounding into you. I'd anything he smirked at her, slow his thrust while squeezing you milk filled breast to poke at her. And boy did he poke at her good. She was flaring...

She stood their for a while, watching as Gojo fucked you in a way he had never fucked her. I'm jealous at how well you are taking his cock deep inside your pussy. She watched you both for a while until Gojo spoke, "what wanna fuck her too wife? I know she's hot... hotter and tighter and wetter than you could ever be. Wanna know what a wet pussy is supposed to feel?"

L.O.M.L

Summary: On Late August day, you and Nanami go out to dinner, where you reveal a wonderful surprise.

Pairing: Nanami Kento x FAB!Reader

Word Count: 5,682

Warning: angst, character death, mentions of blood, pregnancy complications, Shibuya incident, angst

A/N: I am so sorry. 🥲

The normal clanking of knives against plates, the murmur of conversation around you was nearly silent as you waited. With a glance around the bakery you and Nanami often visited, you spot your fiance walking in. He was sporting his blue down top, suit jacket resting over his arm, and tie off. His typical ‘off the clock' aesthetic. Honey-brown eyes glanced through the bakery before landing on you. His smile was soft as he hurried forward, avoiding other customers before bending over and kissing your lips.

“Hello love, don't you look stunning? You're practically glowing.”

“I'm just happy to see you!” Nanami chuckled, nodding as he slid into the booth across from you. “I hope you don't mind, but I ordered a drink for you already.”

“That’s perfectly fine, you know what I like.” Nanami yawned into the back of his hand. “I was thinking that perhaps we can go for dessert after this, maybe to that ice cream parlor you like.”

“Mhmm, I think that sounds like a great idea!”

“One iced green tea.” The young waitress sat the drink down before him, giving you a wink before she walked away.

Nanami looked up from the menu to thank the waitress for bringing his drink. Something caught his eye just as he turned his head to look at her. Sitting in front of him was a glass of iced green tea. It wasn’t in a glass but a baby bottle: bright blue lid, yellow teat, and measuring lines. Your fiance blankly stared at the baby bottle, looking at it as if it were a puzzle that could not be solved. The confusion in his eyes settled into a look of annoyance.

Nanami stood up, his eyes searching the restaurant for someone. “Kento?” You asked, confusion thick in your voice. “Babe, what in the world are you doing?” With an exasperated sigh, Nanami turned to look back down at you.

“I think a certain blindfolded freak followed us here.” The veins in his neck bulged in frustration over the prospect of Gojo being there.”I had a little mishap at work today. I didn’t realize the lid to my coffee wasn't secure enough. so when I tried to take a drink, it spilled down the front of my jacket.” Trying to imagine your ordinarily prim and proper fiancé with a coffee stain down his coat was a sight you were slightly intrigued to see. “Gojo thought it was the funniest thing in the entire world. He insisted that he invest in hundreds of sippy cups until I learned how to drink properly. It's a thing to tease me at work but another to do after hours. So, if you excuse me, I need to try to find a way to get through his infinity.”

Before Nanami could begin his manhunt, you gently grabbed his wrist, ceasing his momentum. “It wasn't Gojo.” You softly said, winning a puzzled look from Kento.

“If it wasn’t Gojo, then who was it?”

Your heart felt like it would explode from how fast it was beating against your rib cage. He needed to know. Nanami watched as you reached into your bag with trembling fingers, grabbing a rectangle box and sliding it in front of him. Your throat felt so incredibly dry that you took a sip of water to ease the burning sensation as Nanami picked up the box.

The whole world seemed to freeze when Nanami opened the box lid. Inside it, a pregnancy test with the lid secure. Nanami’s eyes trail to a blue positive sign in the center of the test. His eyes lingered on that blue plus sign; it seemed like an eternity before his honey-brown orbs slowly traveled to your face. He bore an unreadable expression; you weren’t sure if that was better than him freaking out or ten times worse.

“I-I—well, I was feeling a bit nauseated this morning, and I noticed I hadn’t started my period yet.” The bustling sounds of the busy bakery turned into a muffled noise as you stared directly at the table's surface. “So I figured I should check when you left for work this morning. I thought maybe it was just a stomach bug, something I would be over in twenty-four hours; I hadn’t expected it to be positive.”

“Love—”

“I know this isn’t part of the plan. We wanted to get married first and save up some money.” Thundering heartbeats pounded inside your eardrums, muting the outside world around you. “I’m sorry; I’m the one who suggested that we mess around when we were both drunk last month.”

“Love—”

“‘M’ so sorry. I know you would prefer for things to go differently and more smoothly. I ruined that for us.”

Thoughts of that drunken passion came flooding back to you. You both had one too many drinks at a work function. There had been a lot of kissing, necking, and fondling on the elevator ride back up to your hotel room. One thing led to another, and one condom-less sex session later, you found yourself pregnant with his baby. Something neither of you intended to happen until maybe five years down the road, maybe less if things were good. You getting knocked up six months before your wedding was not in the plans.

A large hand cupped your cheek before you could start spiraling into intrusive thoughts. Lips so soft and warm pressed against yours in a gentle kiss. A strangled gasp rose in your throat as Nanami turned his head, deepening the kiss. Both of his hands cupped each side of your face. He was so gentle and kind, putting all of his love into that single kiss.

Nanami finally managed to pull himself away from you, his fingers gently caressing your face before he sat back down in front of you. His hands cradled the box that you had given him. Looking into his eyes, there was no trace of anger or frustration. There was nothing but hope and love in his iris’.

“You’ve given me everything I’ve ever wanted in a partner. you’re kind, compassionate, and so undesribilingly beautiful.” A wet tear hit the surface of the table. “You’re giving me a life I never knew I wanted until I met you. Any other man would’ve been content just that. But you're giving me something I can’t even describe.” he placed the lid back onto the box. “You’ve given me hope, unconditional love, and a future.”

“Kento—”

“Don't you dare apologize for that.” he gently scolded, placing the back so gently to the side as if it would shatter. “It may not have been in our plans, but who cares?” Large, calloused fingers gently gripped yours, holding them tight. “We’re going to be just fine, you, me, and our little one.”

Happy tears streamed down your cheeks as Nanami ran his thumb over. “You're right!” you brought his hands to your lips, peppering kisses over his larger hands. “Everything is going to be perfect.” The joy etched over Nanami’s face had your heart racing with pure excitement instead of the dread it had felt ever since you saw that positive sign.

Everything would work out as long as your fiancé was by your side. Your child may not have been planned, but that didn’t mean it would be loved any less. Things would be okay; they would be even better, not that you were expecting a little one soon.

For the first month, things were perfect aside from the morning sickness and the fatigue. You’ve also had a never-ending craving for frozen yogurt and sauerkraut. Not together, of course; your cravings hadn’t gotten that weird yet. Nanami was so perfect. He held your hair back while you vomited in the early hours of the morning, he’d bring you home frozen yogurt when you didn’t even have to ask, and he would massage your back ever so gently before his hands gently pulled out your lower abdomen.

The hands gently stroked your lower abdomen. “My sweet little bean.” he would whisper in your ear, his eyes glancing down at his hand. “I can't wait to meet you. I bet you’ll look just like your mommy.” The tenderness of his tone had you cuddling into him and sighing contently as his palms rested against you.

Moments like that were perfect.

But things took a turn so quickly it could give whiplash. It started as a typical day, nothing out of the ordinary until you were out grabbing some groceries. There was a sharp, stinging pain in your lower back. You thought nothing more of it than just a strained muscle. But when you walked into the restroom to use it, pulling your underwear down to your knees, you saw a stain of red.

Panic settled in as you began to wonder what was going on. You had done everything right. You listened to your doctors, read all the baby books, and even took your vitamins like you were supposed to. So why, why was this happening?

You immediately called Nanami. He stopped what he was doing, rushing to meet you at the doctor's office. Much like when you first told him that you were pregnant, your heart was racing against your rib cage like a hammer to a nail. Only this time, it wasn’t from excitement; it was from terror.

The dread and the panic settled in the pit of your stomach. Noticing your anxiety, Nanami gently took your hand, letting you know he was here for you no matter what. And while you knew he was trying to be kind to let you know that he was here to hold the burden of the unknown with you, that only seemed to worsen things. If something were wrong, you would not be able to live with the guilt; your fiancé had been so excited, you were excited.

Your stomach twisted as the doctor came in. “Well, let’s look and see what’s going on with your baby.” You laid back against the medical exam table. You were shuddering as he poured the cool jelly against your lower abdomen before performing an ultrasound. You knew something was wrong. Not once did the doctor turn towards you. Instead, the screen was securely in front of his face, an unable expression plaster against it. That expression must’ve taken years of practice to master. An expression that screamed he knew something was wrong, but he didn’t want to alarm his patients.

“Is everything okay with our little bean?” Nanami tentatively asked, sensing the same thing you had.

“I’m not seeing anything wrong, per se. I think it’s just a little too early for us to see your little bean right now.”

“I'm sorry, but what?” you sat up on your elbows as a doctor began wiping off the jelly. “What do you mean you can’t see them? Isn’t that a bad thing?”

The doctor and your fiancé exchange the books with one another. “Not necessarily. I checked both your fallopian tubes, and I didn’t see that it’s an ectopic pregnancy, so that’s good. It could be that your little bean is too small for us to see on the monitor.”

“Or there’s no bean at all. It’s possible that it didn’t stick right; it wasn't viable?”

“Love—” your fiancé looked at you as if you had broken his heart with your words.

“Yes, that is a possibility, too.” You felt like the whole world was about to crash down on you. Nanami, tighten this hand on yours before glancing at the doctor.

“But there’s still a chance, right?”

“Of course, like I said, it might be too early. Before you leave, I want to have some blood work drawn. That way, we know for sure.”

Several tubes of blood later and a very silent car ride home, you and Nanami walked into the apartment. You headed straight for the kitchen, pulling out pots and pans to prepare dinner, but your attempts were throttled. Nanami snatched the pots and pans away from you. Whirling around, you reached for the pans.

“Give me that back.” Your tone is sharp and short as you yank a pan back.

“Were you not listening to what the doctor told you when we left? You’re supposed to be resting in bed.”

“Why? I'm bleeding; that's never a good sign.”

Nanami pulled the pan out of your hand as you reached for it again. “You're spotting there's a difference.” A soured scoff left your mouth. “Don’t act like it's over; our little bean is strong.” he placed the pans down, hands reaching for your lower stomach, but before they could touch you, you slapped them away.

“Kento! Stop it! Please!” Tears ran down your cheeks as you choked on a sob. “Please! All day, I've been having this feeling of dread! It didn't stick!”

The tension flooded the room, which was so thick you could almost cut it with a knife. You stared down at the floor, your own hands cradling your stomach while he hovered just in front of you. Kento wanted to touch you, but you had made it clear by smacking his hands away that you didn’t want that.

But seeing you so visibly upset had Kento fighting his instincts. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you in for a hug. Smelling his cologne and feeling the warmth of his body against yours was the final straw—the reins on the emotions you have held back slipped from your grasp. You shoved your face into his chest; soft sobs rocked through you. While you were having a breakdown, Kento gently rubbed his hands up and down your back.

“It’s going to be okay.” His words were muffled as he pressed his lips against your head. “Our little bean is going to be.”

Pulling back with tear-stained cheeks, you hiccuped, taking a deep breath. “A-And what if it’s not?!” Nanami’s smile was across between sorrow and happiness.

“If that does happen, which I doubt it is, we’ll try again.”

“We will—?”

“Of course, we will.” His lips pressed against your head, pulling back to glance down at your sobbing figure. “I love you. I want to raise a family with you. We’ll get there eventually, I promise.”

His words held a sure hope in them. One that made you want to believe that he was right everything would work out for the best. But you also didn’t want to get your hopes up. For now, you will continue to do things as you were. Watching what you were eating and taking your prenatal vitamins, but not losing yourself in the serotonin that came with early pregnancy.

That could change in an instant.

“I love you too.” You whispered gently, grabbing his hands and placing them on your stomach. Nanami’s shoulders relaxed as he ran his hands over you with gentle, loving strokes.

“I love you both.” Without another word, Nanami ushered you to the bedroom, where he promptly tucked you into bed. “I’ll make us something to eat. You need to rest.”

While you wanted to help him, deep down, you knew he wouldn’t let you help. So you’ve fluffed your pillows and laid back against the headboard in defeat. You stayed like that for five minutes before you and Nanami’s phones went off.

Glancing at your screen, you stared at a summons text from Jujutsu High. You were being summoned to go to Shibuya to handle an incident. Just as you finished reading your message, Nanami walked into the bedroom. His eyes were glued to the screen before they quickly darted in your direction, taking note of your hand, which was still in your hand.

“Where did they summon you to?” He said tentatively.

“Shibuya, what about you?”

Nanami huffed out a sigh, running his hand against the back of his neck. “Shibuya.” His confirmation had you sitting up straight. “I’m going to call Yaga and let him know you won’t be joining me.” his words were sharp and cold, like an icepick to your heart.

“I can help; I may not know the reverse curse technique, but my barriers are the best in the business.”

“And our doctor put you on bed rest.” The sharpness of his tone let you know there would be no further discussion. Your fiancé was putting his foot down and would refuse to listen to any arguments you came up with. “So lay back down; I’m going to finish making your dinner before I head out.”

Watching him leave the room had you feeling all sorts of emotions: frustration, sadness, and dread. Something about this wasn’t right if you both were called in on the same mission. It had to be serious.

Different thoughts and outcomes were rolling through your head like a raging river. You had no clue what was waiting for your fiancé, leaving you feeling sick, souring the remains of your lunch. You thought you would be sick until Nanami came back into the room. He placed a piping hot mug of ginger tea on the nightstand beside you before laying a bed tray down in your lap with a bowl of steaming rice porridge.

“Oh, Kento, thank you.” Your fiancé gently kissed your cheek before kneeling next to the bed, his hand resting over the spot he’d been obsessed over.

“Daddy needs to go to work, but I’ll be home as soon as possible.” He traced a small heart over your skin. “I love you and Mommy very much, bean.” His honey-brown eyes, which you loved so much, glittered in the lamp beside you. “I love you; please get some rest; don’t hesitate to call me.”

“I love you too, Kento.”

Nanami grinned, putting on his glasses and jacket. “I’ll be home soon.” He pressed one final kiss to your lips before walking out the bedroom door.

The incident in Shibuya was worse than you had thought. Veils were brought down, there was no cell service, and you were anxiously staring at your phone's screen. Nanami texted you a few times before finally sending you two final messages.

Kento: We’re heading further in; I’ll check in with you in a little bit.

You: Please be safe. I love you.

Kento: I love you too.

That was the last message you received. Worry filled every ounce of your being as you anxiously texted everyone you knew who was at Shibuya. Between you keeping up with the updates on social media and searching for answers as to what was going on, just like everyone else, you were outside of the loop, which had your anxiety at an all-time high.

Nanami was okay; he was always okay. Before you knew it, he would walk back in with a big smile. He’d apologize for being late and complain all about the overtime he worked, and he would hold you. That’s precisely what was going to happen.

You should have known something was wrong when there was a knock on the door around noon that morning. “Did you lose your keys?” You asked as you opened the door, finding Yaga standing there, eyes hidden behind sunglasses. “Yaga?” You question, looking behind him, searching for Nanami.

“Can I come inside?”

“W-Where’s Kento?”

“Hun, please let me in—”

The dread lingering in your stomach rose to your throat as you stepped aside, allowing Yaga to walk in. He was solemn, not looking at you until you both sat at the kitchen table. Your hands felt like ice as Yaga began explaining what happened in Shibuya that he knew thus far.

Gojo had been sealed, and Itadori had been given more fingers; overall, it was a total massacre. So many died, and others were injured. Hearing all of the gory details, had you reaching for your lower stomach. In fear of what Yaga was going to tell you next.

“Is Kento okay? Is he at the hospital, or is Shoko taking care of him?” Yaga remained silent, not saying a single word leaving his lips. “Yaga.”

“Todo and Nitta Arata were called in from Kyoto. They found Itadori fighting the patch-face curse, Mahito.”

Your body went rigid as your vision blurred. Nanami had told you everything that happened with that curse. From his battle with it in the sewers, its technique, and the damage it had done. That curse nearly killed Nanami and Itadori. Hearing about a curse that could alter the shape of a soul had chills running down your spine. Your fiance had said that if he wasn’t dealt with in a timely manner, he would become too strong.

It seemed as though he was right.

“That doesn't answer my question—where’s Kento?” your former high school teacher said nothing again. “Yaga, you need to tell me what happened.”

“When they arrived, itadori was not in a very good state given the circumstances.” Of course, he would be like that. Having Sukuna take control and run a rampage through the city and having to live with that would traumatize anyone. “Mahito touched Nobara, and well—” Yaga trailed off, “we’ll see what happens with her, but Yuuji also informed Todo that Nanami—”

You didn’t wait for him to continue. You stood up, frantically searching for your keys and your jacket. “Stop, let’s go. I need to see him.” Yaga followed after you, gently grabbing your shoulders to stop you. “I need to be by his side. He would do the same for me!” Yaga tightened his grip on you, grabbing your keys and slamming them on the counter.

“Sit down, please.”

“W-Why?” Tears welled in your eyes. “W-We have to go! I need to be with him! Yaga, please!” he helped ease you into the chair before kneeling in front of you. “Yaga?” Your former teacher took his glasses off, holding them between his fingers.

“Itadori told both of them that Nanami—” he swallowed, “Nanami was killed.”

It felt as though your stomach fell out of your body, followed by your heart. You rocked back in the chair, eyes widening as Yaga grabbed your hand. Time stopped; neither you nor Yaga moved or breathed. Heavy breathing filled the silence as the tears fell from your eyes. No way, there was no way he was gone; your Kento w-wouldn't have been taken out—no, he said he would be home soon!

Your stomach churned as you shook your head. “N-No, no, he—” Looking around your apartment, which was full of memories with him, you searched for Kento like it was a bad dream. “H-He was just here—he made me food—” Yaga squeezed your hand gently. “He said he'd be home soon.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“No, no, I don't believe you.” You tried getting up, but your body remained glued to the chair as the shock settled in. “I need to see him. Take me to him, Yaga.”

“There's nothing to see; I refuse to let you see the state they found him in. I can't give you the closure you want.” More tears fell as you struggled to breathe. “We were only able to confirm that it was Nanami because we found his blunt blade and wallet.”

You were going to be sick; your hand covered your mouth as Yaga reached into his back pocket, pulling out a cloth. He gently placed it on the table next to you. Your icy, trembling fingers reached forward, picking up the fabric and unwrapping it. You discovered what was hidden underneath it. Nanami’s wallet sat there in the palm of your hand. Opening it, you choked, seeing his ID.

Yaga kept apologizing as you flipped through the contents of your fiancè’s wallet. You looked through his cards, the money he had inside, before finally landing on a picture he kept of the two of you in the back. A wallet was all that you got? This pathetic piece of leather was your goodbye?

“I know it’s not his body, but it’s still a part of him.”

Part of him? You didn't want part of him; you wanted all of him here at home with you! Where he would caress your stomach absentmindedly while reading. Where you'd cook and share a meal. The two of you would blissfully talk about the future and what it had in store for you.

The nausea settled deep in your stomach as you got up on shaking legs. “I need some air.” As you stepped forward, the room spun, and you began falling forward.

Yaga was fast catching you in his arms as he helped steady you. “Easy there, I got you, hu—” His words trailed off before his muscles clenched. “You're bleeding.” Turning to follow his gaze, you saw a bloom of red staining your chair. “Shit, I’m taking you to the hospital.” Yaga was moving, but all you felt was a numbing sensation. Your eyes stayed locked on your chair before the door slammed shut.

You just lost the love of your life. Now, this was happening? Are you honestly going to lose the one thing he left behind that was a part of both of you? No, no, this wasn't fair! You wailed, screaming as Yaga rushed you out of the apartments into the car one of the assistant supervisors was driving. Yaga barked out an order before resting your head in his lap. Your hands rubbed over the spot Nanami always did as you hiccuped and screamed.

This wasn't real; it was all a nightmare, a terrible, horrible nightmare. But the chill that coursed through your veins and settled in your chest was a sick reminder. A reminder that this was, in fact, not a nightmare. This was reality. The harsh, cold reality that you were having to face on your own. one where your fiancé was dead, and you were bleeding when you were carrying his child. Nanami wasn't dead; this had to be some cosmic twisted joke. Why, on the same day you lost the love of your life, would you lose the last part you had of him?

“No,” you whispered, “no, they’re strong, they’re so strong like their daddy.” Break squealed as the door to the backseat opened. “They have to make it; they’re gonna make it.”

Lights were blurred as you were placed upon a gurney, faces crowded about you, voices shouting, commands, and barking out orders. The sickening smell of sterilizing chemicals flooded your nose, making the nausea worse. You were overwhelmed by the sounds, smell, and grief.

“Where’s that Ultrasound?!”

Cold jelly was on you as you thrashed around trying to find Kento, to look at the screen to see your baby. “I got nothing!” Someone screamed, making you sit up.

“No! No! Please! T-They're okay!”

“Miss, you need to relax.”

“Look again!” You pleaded before you were pushed back against the gurney. “Look again!”

“Easy! Relax!”

They weren't listening to you! You needed to make sure your child was okay! You could not lose them both, not on the same day. Your blurry eyes searched the faces around you, desperately trying to find honey-brown eyes. But he wasn't there. You needed him! Fuck you needed him so tucking bad!

“Kento!!” Your scream was so loud it made your ears ring as nurses and doctors worked around and above you. “P-Please! Please, I can't lose them too, Ken! I can't lose you both!!!”

A warmth washed over you like a warm hand, gently rubbing up and down your arm, easing you down into a calm state. Or maybe you were given something by the doctors, or the shock was making you drift out of consciousness. Your heart stopped thundering in your ears, slowing to a normal pace as your eyes began to shut. The blurry shapes around you faded into darkness.

That same warm caress had you stirring, blinking as the sound of ocean waves crashing drew you from your hellish nightmare. Slowly following the hand on you gasped, finding Nanami sitting before you. He was in his blue button-down top, tie long forgotten, just like the day you had told him you were pregnant. You sat up on pure white sand, tears rolling down your cheeks as you reached for him, cupping his face.

“Kento—”

“Love, I'm so sorry.” He turned, nuzzling his face into your palms. “I’m so sorry I left you both.”

“I love you.” The words were broken and full of disdain as you pulled him closer. “I love you, I love you.”

Blonde brows furrowed in sorrow as Nanami shut his eyes as tightly as possible. “I love you too, darling.” He huffed out a heavy sigh. “I love you both.” The way he shifted his arms had your eyes darting toward his chest, where a bundle lay in his arms. A bundle that wailed softly as he pushed the blanket back. “You were right.” Blinking tears away, you stared up at him in confusion.

“About what?”

“About her being strong like me.” His eyes filled with tears as he ran his knuckle over a chubby cheeks. “She's a fighter.”

“She?”

“And she’s beautiful like her mommy.” Kenton continued as he gently transferred the bundle into your arms. “She’s going to be smart like the both of us.” Nanami cupped your cheek, gently kissing you. “She’ll pull through, just like you will, and I’ll be right there with you, watching over my girls; I swear I’ll always be there.”

Pressing your forehead against his, you stared into those eyes you loved. “I love you, Kento.” He stared back, blinking slowly before pressing a chaste kiss against your lips while his hand rested against your tummy, making your heartache.

“I love you too.”

Shutting your eyes, you took a deep breath before opening them again. Big sparkling honey-brown eyes peered down at you, framed by thick lashes. They were full of concern as a tiny hand gently wiped a tear away from your eye.

“Mommy? Why are you cryin’?”

Sitting up, you quickly wiped your eyes before turning towards the four-year-old. “I was dreaming, little bean; I'm okay.” Blonde hair bounced as she tilted her head to the side. Her frilly pink swimsuit was on, and her yellow duck floaties squeaked as she wrapped her arms around your neck. “Oh, Kotoe.” You hugged her back, squeezing her gently. “Thank you, baby.” Your daughter pulled back, rubbing your cheek softly.

“Was it scary?”

“Nope, it was a good dream.”

“Good?”

“Mhmm,” You kissed her cheek, “your daddy just stopped by to say hi to us.” She smiled wide, looking up at the blue umbrella shielding you from the sun.

“Hi, Daddy!” She waved so enthusiastically. “I love you!” She focused her attention back on you. “Mommy, can Uncle Yuuji and Uncle Ino take me back to the water to play more?”

“Sure baby, just a little longer; Uncle Gojo and the others will be back soon with the watermelon and fireworks. Can I put some more sunscreen on you first?”

A bottle of sunscreen promptly landed beside you as Ino passed. “Already did it!” He ran for the water as Yuuji bolted by picking your daughter up.

“Ah, haha! Uncle Yuuji!!”

“Nana-Bean! Nana-Bean!” Yuuji chanted as he and Ino grabbed one of her hands, walking toward the water.

Nanami had been right; your little girl was strong, just like him. She fought and made it through a scary dark time in your life. Kotoe was your entire world; she was loved by you and everyone around you. It was all thanks to her that you found the strength to fight.

A warm caress brushed down your cheek as you watched your daughter pick up seashells. You learned into it, sighing happily. “Hi, Kento,” you whispered as the warmth spread. “Thanks for saying hi, I love you.”

Little Kotoe turned and looked back at you, holding up a pink shell she found. When she did, she saw a see-through man and recognized him immediately. Her father, Nanami Kento, whom she'd only seen in pictures and videos, sat on the beach towel beside you. His see-through hand gently rubs up your cheek.

“Nana-bean? Whatcha looking at?”

“My daddy!” She announced proudly before putting her seashell in her bucket. “He loves my mommy so much he comes and visits her!”

Ino and Yuuji shared a look before focusing on you. Both young men felt an ache in their chests as their eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “Does he visit a lot?” Yuuji asked as Kotoe dropped another seashell in her pink sand bucket.

“Mhmm! Daddy said Mommy is strong! The strongest! Stronger than Uncle Gojo!”

A shadow spread over the trio. “I’m sorry. Someone's stronger than me?” Kotoe looked up at Gojo, who held a watermelon over his shoulder.

“My daddy said my mommy is!”

“Oooh~” Gojo fixed his glasses, turning his head to smile at you as Maki and Yuuta sat with you. “Yeah, your mommy is strong. But your dad needs to shut his mouth, or I'll put a sippy cup on his altar.”

The trio all tilted their heads in confusion. Gojo smirked before telling them the story of Nanami spilling coffee down the front of himself the same day you had found out you were pregnant. The group busted into a string of giggles. You turned from Maki, watching your little girl throw her head back, rays of light surrounding her.

Once in a blue moon, Kento had mentioned to you that he told a girl at a bakery, ‘No one would mind if I was gone.’ he couldn't have been more wrong. There wasn't a day that you didn't miss him. So many people missed him; he had been taken far too soon.

Four years have passed since you lost the love of your life. But Nanami had blessed you with memories of him and helped make your little bean before his untimely departure. Knowing and loving him was one of the greatest honors bestowed upon you. It was the kind of love that transcended time. A once-in-a-lifetime kind of love that lived on through his pupils, his daughter, and you.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe