ruru (she/her), 23, taurus, INFP — mainly jjk writer! (probably gachiakuta in some near future)
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enjin makes a bet with gob that he could easily make you fall for him. the biggest mistake of his life, because he falls harder. — cw: massive angst, no hea, standalone.
The neon lights flickered brightly in the dirty bar. It had been always that one bar to go for the cleaners and tonight was no difference.
Some strayed around to flirt with girls, or play billard. Others sat together around a table to enjoy the company.
And then the bet started. Because they were fucking drunk. Not the gentle buzz, but downright shitfaced.
Gob was laughing so hard he almost toppled over in his chair. He also drank from Follo’s glass, or did Follo drank from his? Who cared in a night like this?
However. Across the table Gris sat with his glass gripped tightly in his hand. Blue eyes clouded and concerned as the chaos became even more chaotic. He had an unpleasant feeling.
And then there was you. Okay, you had gone home hours ago, because you were worried about the kids being alone at the headquarters. You only had joined a few weeks ago and you were… well, different. Quieter than the others and soft spoken. The kind of person who apologized when someone bumped into you. A few days ago you had been startled when Enjin and Gob roughhoused in the hallway, afraid the two friends fought.
To say it bluntly, you were a fragile, cute thing caught in a meat grinder. Shy. And yet most of the cleaners liked you.
Enjin definitely had been watching you. He wasn’t interested romantically, but you were entirely different from the other women in the cleaners. Now it’d be unfair to say you didn’t belong - after all you were a giver.
So when Gob laughed that wet, rattling sound that promised mischief no one was surprised what he said next. He nudged Enjin with his elbow and leaned close, “Bet ya couldn’t make her fall for ya.”
The table erupted into slurred jeers and banging cups. Enjin snorted amused and leaned back with that cocky smirk.
“Please,” Enjin scoffed.
“Nah, ya couldn’t,” Gob egged him on. “She’s too pure for a bastard like ya.”
“I absolutely could.”
“Not a fuckin’ chance,” Gob threw all the money he owned on the table. “All this that she zeroes ya out.”
Enjin’s eyes gleamed with stupid, drunken pride. The money didn’t really matter, neither did the bet. It was a stupid, meaningless dare born of too many drinks and a desperate need to feel invincible in a world that chewed them up daily. It was the sort of ugly, thoughtless thing nobody would even remember by next week.
Except Gris. Gris remembered the exact moment Enjin nodded, slapping his hand down on the table to seal the deal. Because something in Gris’ stomach sank like a stone.
He knew you better than any of them. He knew how easily your heart bruised. Even more he knew Enjin and the reckless wake of destruction he could leave behind. Gris knew neither of you deserved what was about to happen.
But by then it was already too late. The bet was made. The drunken laughs roared on, drowning out the quiet dread in the bar.
… and Enjin walked straight into the worst mistake of his life.
At first it was easy. So painfully, sickeningly easy.
All Enjin had to do was turn on the charm he normally reserved for the women at the bar. Or to get out of a bad fight. He’d linger around you and flashed that crooked smile.
With a smug satisfaction he watched you tumble over your words. Warm face and soft giggles. So fucking easy.
You looked at him like he hung the moon.
When he talked you listened to every stupid story he told. Even when most of them weren’t funny at all you giggled into your hand, like he was the coolest man alive.
It should feel like winning. His victory. Instead, after a few weeks, the taste began to sour.
Enjin found himself laying awake at night, thinking about you. The bet. You. The sound of your laughter. The crinkle of your eyes when you smiled up at him, completely unguarded.
He thought about how you made sure that his glass was always full and you got the better piece of meat for him. You mama’ed him in the sweetest way possible without being too much.
He started looking for you. That was the first bad sign, the first fracture in his armor and that should’ve told him he needed to stop.
He’d enter the common room and immediately look if you were there too. If you weren’t he’d feel irritated, because where the fuck were you without him? But if you were his mood improved and he felt all warm on the inside.
“Pathetic,” he hissed at himself as he grabbed the umbreaker tightly. “Absolutely pathetic.”
He knew it. Unfortunately that didn’t stop him at all.
And you trusted him so much. You devoted yourself to him completely.
One evening, after a brutal mission that left everyone’s nerves frayed, he found you sitting alone on the edge of the roof. The smog filled sky in the background made you look small. Shoulders slumped in exhaustion.
When he sat down beside you quietly you didn’t startled. Instead you leaned your head against his shoulder and sighed softly. His anchor - the man you needed the most now.
Enjin’s breath caught. His heart stopped before it slammed wildly against his chest.
“Long day?” he asked roughly.
“The longest,” you laughed tiredly.
The sound wrapped around his heart and squeezed it so tightly until it hurt to breathe. The memory of the bet filled his mind and his throat with bitter bile.
Disgusting. He was disgusting.
This wasn’t a game anymore. You weren’t some challenge, not a prize to be won. You were… fuck, you were everything.
“C’mere,” he choked out and hugged you tightly.
Somewhere along the line of the past six weeks he hadn’t just lost the bet. He had fallen so hard and deep that it physically ached.
Soon after your first kissed happened. He forgot about everything. This wasn’t planned, no calculated strategy. This was just you and the softness you brought into his world.
You gave him a big piece of your heart that he had no right to hold. He was so fucked.
He leaned down to steal another kiss from you and it was so real for him.
By then he would’ve gladly burned the entire world down, would tear into anyone with his bare hands if it meant to keep you safe and keep you his.
Weeks passed then, bleed into months as your relationship developed so naturally, beautifully.
The others found out one by one. Spread by gossip that Enjin had won your heart and you were a thing now.
Gob stopped making jokes, shifting uncomfortably in his seat whenever you walked into the room, his loud mouth suddenly snapping shut. Follo looked actively guilty, staring at his boots or finding a sudden excuse to leave whenever you offered him a smile. Even Gris, usually the anchor of the group, started avoiding your eye contact entirely, his gaze sliding away.
Because none of this was funny anymore.
Not when everyone could see the way Enjin looked at you. You had become the air in his lungs and on some days the sole reason to pull himself out of bed. And you loved him back just as fiercely.
The joke had turned into a loaded gun and it was pointed right at your chest.
Gris lasted long and he’d be the one pulling the trigger. Because he had carried the secret like a stone sitting in his throat. Guilt is a cruel thing and one afternoon Gris broke.
You found him on the training ground. You weren’t even looking for answers, because for you there hadn’t been questions to be asked. Carrying a small pastry you had been looking for your man actually.
“Gris, what’s wrong?” you frowned as Gris stared at the pastry with pure pain.
“How much has he told you?” Gris asked quietly.
“What do you mean?”
His blue eyes met yours and your stomach dropped violently. Pity. It was the sickening pity in his eyes that made you almost drop the pastry.
“Gris?” you asked nervously.
Everything felt wrong. Your heartbeat quickened, a frantic drum.
Gris looked physically sick. He swallowed hard, his voice cracking. “I can’t keep lying to you. None of us can.”
Afterward you couldn't remember much of the conversation. Only pieces. Jagged, razor sharp fragments of words that sliced through your mind, drawing blood.
A drunken bet. Make her fall for you. Easy. Laughter. Money.
The entire relationship you had built over the last few months - every soft kiss, the warmth of his body when you become one, every shared secret - was reduced to a punchline. To cheap entertainment for a table of drunk cleaners.
You remembered staring at Gris while your chest felt like it was collapsing. Exploding under an unimaginable weight.
“No,” you whispered. Then pleaded. “No no no.”
Over and over, because… not your Enjin. Not the man that cuddled you every night to sleep. Not the man that kissed you like he was starving each time. Not the man that knew your deepest fears and promised to protect you from them.
Please. Please, not him.
Enjin found you in a random hallway in the headquarters an hour later. Pressed against the wall your knees pulled up to your chest. You were crying. A suffocating weeping that shook your entire body.
He knew immediately.
The moment his eyes landed on your face, the moment he saw the pure horror and heartbreak swimming in your tear streaked face, something inside Enjin shattered into a million pieces.
The world tilted violently on its axis.
“Who told you?” he whispered trembling.
He took a frantic step forward and reached out for you. You flinched away. A horrible, broken laughter bubbled from your throat.
It didn’t sound like you at all.
“You did,” you choked out. “Every single day you did.”
His blood ran cold. A freezing numbness washed over him and his heart and soul.
Still you listened to him. Sitting there on the cold floor you listened while he fell to his knees in front of you. You listened while he explained - his voice desperate, cracking on each word with agonizing panic.
You listened while he begged, while he gripped at his own hair, while he swore on his life that it wasn't like that anymore.
He told you he loved you. He told you you were his entire world, his everything. Tears streamed down his own face, spilling over his cheeks as he humiliated himself, pleading for you to understand.
You listened to every agonizing word.
That made it so much worse, because you believed him. Men like Enjin didn’t break down like this. They didn’t cry, beg and carry the truth in golden eyes.
You knew he loved you with every fiber of his being. That he was dying on the inside now.
That wasn’t the problem. The problem was that the foundation of everything you had built together was completely rotten.
The first time he had looked at you with that beautiful smile it was because of a bet. He held your hand, because it was a tactic.
Every beautiful memory you both shared had a deep ugly crack now.
You could never look back at the beginning of your love without seeing Gob’s stupid, laughing face. You could never remember your first kiss without hearing the clinking of glasses and the smell of cheap Bourbon.
Trust, that had been shattered, didn’t magically heal just because the person who broke it is sorry.
When you finally stood up your legs were shaking. Without a word you walked down the dark hallway. Enjin didn’t follow you.
It wasn’t meant to be a noble gesture, but the look in your eyes terrified him. Dead. Hollowed out. Destroyed.
He had done that to you. He had taken the only pure and beautiful thing in his life and had broken it for a joke.
Not Gob. Not Follo or Gris. Him.
The following weeks were hell for both of you.
Of course you stayed with the cleaners, but you moved through the headquarters like a ghost. Also you had transferred teams and were now a part of team child. Being around the kids who tried cheering you up with doodling sessions and an unholy amount of sweets helped.
Yet, you cried yourself to sleep in your room that didn’t smell like him anymore. Wondering how something that had felt so beautiful could turn into something so cruel that it made you wish your heart would stop beating entirely.
And Enjin... Enjin wandered through his days like a corpse that had forgotten to lie down.
The loudest, most arrogant cleaner in the crew became a hollow shell. The most energetic, reckless fighter became perpetually exhausted, his eyes sunken and rimmed with red, his movements sluggish. The others barely recognized him. He didn't yell, didn't brag, didn’t joke around.
He barely spoke at all, because the woman he loved wasn’t beside him anymore.
Because every single corner of the headquarters reminded him of you. Every stairwell, every flickering light, every dinner. Even the smell of booze reminded him of the horrific night that had ruined his entire life.
One evening Gris found him. Enjin was sitting alone on the edge of the rusted rooftop. He looked entirely broken, his elbows resting on his knees, staring blankly at the ground below. A broken man who had lost everything.
“Do you hate me?” Gris asked quietly.
A hollow laugh filled the air. Enjin didn’t even bother looking up. He just shook the head. “No.”
The silence between them became suffocating. Slowly Enjin lowered his head into his hands and started pulling on his hair. He couldn’t even cry anymore.
“I hate myself enough for both of us.”
That was the absolute worst part of the wreckage.
It wasn't just that he had lost you. It wasn't just that the relationship had ended in a traumatic event of tears. It wasn't even the crippling, agonizing loneliness that choked him every single night.
It was the horrific knowledge that he had finally found you. He had found the love of his life. The one person who truly saw him, who made him want to be a better man, the woman he would’ve chosen every time in every lifetime.
He would’ve spent forever with you.
And he was the one who destroyed it with a stupid, drunken bet. A few careless, arrogant words. One horrible, thoughtless decision.
The only thing he had left of you were the agonizing memories. Memories of your shy smile and your soft kisses and your warm hand perfectly fitting into his.
All the beautiful things that used to belong to his future, and now belonged only to his past.
꒰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ rudo discovers that the memory of you is still hidden beneath enjins tattoos. — cw: reader is dead.
the mission had thinned enjin’s temper and tore the fabric of his shirt. at least no one had been seriously injured, and for now that was all that mattered.
rudo however had never seen enjin look so careless, so much on the edge. he didn’t think twice as he stepped closer to look if he was alright, and that none of the flying debris had hit him.
“wait,” rudo called out, reaching to inspect the damage.
enjin swatted his hand away. “it’s nothing.”
it was not nothing.
the tear had revealed skin beneath the familiar black and red ink that covered enjin’s arms and chest like armor. beneath that ink there was something faint, almost ghostlike. something different. letters from what rudo could see. a name?
rudo frowned. “that’s not part of the design.”
enjin went still. for a moment the room felt like it had emptied of air. even gris and riyo, who had overheard the conversation, stopped dead in the tracks. panic and dread filled their expressions as they looked from enjin to rudo and back. riyo even tried to signal for rudo to not speak anymore.
“drop it,” enjin said quietly.
rudo didn’t as he stepped closer instead, eyes tracing the faded lines hidden under the darker tattoo that had been layered over it. “you covered it up.”
heavy silence stretched. riyo stepped forward to pull rudo away, but enjin shook the head. he exhaled quietly before pulling the torn fabric aside himself.
the name was there. soft curves of lettering, delicate compared to the sharp edges of the ink that surrounded it. it didn’t match the rage etched across his skin now.
“she hated how reckless i was,” enjin said at last.
rudo blinked. “so it’s hers.”
enjin leaned back against the wall, eyes half-lidded but not unfocused. he was seeing something else entirely. somewhere else. someone else.
“she said if i was going to throw myself into every fight, i should at least carry something worth protecting.”
his fingers brushed the old name unconsciously as he remembered her. like he could ever forget her.
“she wasn’t a fighter,” he continued. “she had no business being near the cleaners.”
rudo stayed quiet. even the others listened, despite being there when it happened.
“she liked stupid things. sweet things. she’d scold me for skipping meals. would patch me up even when i told her i didn’t need it.” a faint breath escaped him. “she carved her name into my skin herself. said if i died, at least i would be hers in some way.”
rudo swallowed. “what happened?”
enjin’s jaw tightened. his golden eyes dimming like he had never seen before.
“i miscalculated.” he replied flatly. “there was a job. i told her to stay back. she never listened when it came to me.” his eyes darkened, with anger at himself. “i thought i could end it fast. i thought i was strong enough.”
the cleaner world was unforgiving - something enjin learned the hard way.
“when the trash beasts turned, she was closer than i realized.”
rudo felt the weight of what wasn’t being said. in the corner of his eyes he sees the grief in the others eyes.
“i got to her,” enjin continued, steady in a way that hurt more than if it had cracked. “but not fast enough.”
the room felt smaller.
“i covered her name because i couldn’t stand looking at it without seeing that moment. i thought if i buried it under something uglier, it’d stop meaning anything.”
his fingers pressed into the ink now. over both layers.
“it fuckin’ did not.”
rudo hesitated. “why not remove it completely?”
he flinched when enjin’s sharp gaze hits him.
“because she existed.” a fact - the saddest and most beautiful one. “she loved me when i had nothing to offer but blood and broken bones. i don’t get to erase her because i failed.”
rudo looked at the faded letters again. they were fragile beneath the heavier design, but they endured. “you still love her,” he said quietly.
“rudo,” riyo chastised, but enjin’s expression didn’t change as he answered.
“yes.”
after a moment he pulled his torn shirt back into place.
“don’t romanticize it,” he added. “loving someone doesn’t make you strong. it makes you careless.”
“enjin—“ gris stepped forward.
everyone - even rudo who wasn’t there when she was alive - wanted to argue. but enjin already turned away and walked down the corridor. the shadows swallowed him, leaving the others behind. so many unspoken words, rudo who had questions. who would’ve liked to meet the woman that enjin loved. he wondered if enjin was different back then, but he didn’t dare asking.
she left a wound on enjin’s soul that never would fully heal.
still rudo understood then that the darker ink wasn’t decoration. it was a reminder of the only softness enjin had ever allowed himself to carry.
𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ working with line cook! toji and line cook! sukuna
sfw. waitress! reader. pining. touch of angst? resturant au. unedited.
just something i whipped up quick tehehe. nsfw version????
the guys in the kitchen were always nice—at least to you they were. they were often spatting, throwing around insults, always on the verge into breaking into a fist fight or dramatically quitting. they became especially rowdy when a waiter came back with a messed up order.
toji and sukuna were the worst out of the staff, and not just in their individual attitudes, but the way they acted to each other—their strings of curses knew no bounds, and the kitchen was lucky if by the end of the night every line cook still had their fingers.
“the fuck it’s wrong,” sukuna would mutter under his breath, “this is medium rare—do they wanna be chewing on leather?”
his sneers were strong, and the way his tattoos wrinkled up with every exaggerated emotion. he’d swear under his breath, turning to the vegetables he’d been chopping, using his knife with such precision it was almost deadly. for someone who was always in a bad mood, though, he seemed to be passionate about what he did—maybe that was why he got so offended any time anyone questioned the food they had received.
toji, on the other hand, was there for the paycheck and the paycheck alone. he found any excuse to slip out of the kitchen, sometimes pawning a cigarette and taking as long as possible to smoke it. he showed up half-awake, always looking a little scruffy, and with a blunt attitude.
“stop fucking standing in the way,” he’d grumbled at waiters that rushed in, and worming they way through the kitchen. he’d roll his eyes and get back to half-assing his job. sukuna could sense the laziness from across the room, and within minutes the two were bickering.
“quit standing around, you little shit,” sukuna would order, although toji was anything but little.
the older man stood there with a grimace, looking up from the vegetables being sautéd on the pan. toji narrowed in his vision.
“i’m fucking cooking here,” he claimed, gesturing to the meal being prepped. sukuna scoffed again—making his emotions known to the whole kitchen—a clear sign to steer clear of the two of them. unless you wanted a rolling pin thrown at your head, of course.
yet, as soon as you walked through the kitchen doors to pick up the next order, their behaviour seemed to improve drastically.
“um sukuna,” you started, looking down at the plate with a bit of a pout. “they ordered the sweet potato fries. these are just the regular ones.”
you held up the plate to show him, voice small, clearly not wanting to inconvenience him. sukuna only stared, eyes widening slowly, studying the way you stood there. if it had been anyone else he would’ve chewed their head off. but, it was you, and slowly, he pulled the ticket up to inspect it. he then eyed the plate once more, drawing his conclusion. his lips pressed together, and he took a deep breath.
the rest of the kitchen held their breath for you, hoping that he wouldn’t take it out on you. just last night he and another waiter nearly poked each other's eyes out over a mixed up order. so as they watched sukuna, it was as if the whole room fell silent.
“my mistake,” he grunted, taking the plate from you, surprising everyone with his lack of outburst. it was like a blue moon experience, especially as they heard the following words slip from sukuna’s mouth: “i’ll fix it—sorry about that.”
his subtle kindness went right over your head, and everyone could see the way he softened up, yet no one wanted to be the one to point it out—they didn’t want to deal with an angry sukuna while he held a knife. it was painfully obvious to the whole kitchen staff that you were his favourite waitress, and they wondered when you would finally notice it.
“hey were are you heading off to?” sukuna would ask as he saw you pacing towards the punch-clock. he almost lost track of the meat he was grilling, focussed on the way you seemed to be in a rush.
“oh i got cut, so i’m heading home,” you said, smiling. although, sukuna’s face was far from mimicking that reaction.
he knew that you going home meant that he wouldn’t get to see you for at least another week, which felt like an eternity away. he contemplated switching his availability just to raise the chances of being scheduled at the same time as you. he sighed internally, nodding at your words, even though he didn’t want to accept them.
“right,” he said, confirming what you said as if it was a question. “have a good night.”
he wasn’t a strong flirt, or a smooth talker—not by any means. he hoped that you noticed his kindness—or, at least, his attempts at kindness.
“you too,” you smiled at him, making his heart thump. “see you later, suki!”
sukuna wasn’t sure if it was the heat from the kitchen that was making him feel so hot, or the fact that you had a little nickname for him. either way, his cheeks were burning, and if anyone else looked close enough they would see a playful pink tint added to his face.
toji wasn’t any better at hiding his intrigue in you.
he could spot you dotting around the kitchen, sticking out like a sore thumb. clearly you were too caught up in your own work to notice the chaos of the kitchen, which often made him snicker.
every now and then, when he would wait outside to smoke, you’d stumble out carrying a heft garbage bag from the kitchen. with both your hands gripped the black blastic, you were barely able to hold your own balance.
“what fuckers made you take this out?” he’d question with a scoff, shaking his head at the thought of the boys in the kitchen making a pretty little thing like you do such a tough task.
“it’s okay, i got it,” you replied with a false sense of confidence.
only, the bag most definitely weighed as much as you did, and although toji didn’t want to be rude he was sure that you didn’t have the strength to haul it up into the big, rotting bin they kept in the back. especially with the way you were already huffing and puffing as you tried to haul it.
he took a step forward, leaning off the wall he’d been resting against and reached his hand forward.
“here,” he said quickly, his fingers brushing over your knuckles as he took the bag from you. you didn’t fight him, though, feeling flustered at the contact. toji took a few steps over and threw the bag into the garbage like it was nothing.
he wiped his hands against the back pocket of his jeans and then smirked back at you, “see, it was no trouble.”
“thanks, toji,” you hummed, still catching your breath.
there was a nice breeze, and the moon was out. it didn’t help that your feet were starting to throb. maybe you could join toji while he was out there?
“it’s good to get some fresh air every once and a while, y’know?” he interjected, as if he could read your thoughts. he dug into his pocket and pulled out a pack of marlboros, sliding out a cylinder and slotting it between his teeth. next, he fished for a lighter and cupped his hands in front of the cigarette’s tip, lighting it carefully.
you couldn’t help but watching, catching the way his arms flexed ever-so-slightly. you had never looked at toji in that light and as he locked eyes with you, any thoughts about work or the tables that were being waited on slipped from your mind.
“you want a hit?” he questioned, a little rasp in his voice.
tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, you shook your head softly.
“i don’t smoke,” you replied, and toji realized then what sukuna was seeing in you. that soft, sweetness, that even though the business could be a little cut throat at times, you were still an optimist.
“probably for the best, sweetheart” he hummed along, letting you stay by his side regardless.
time seemed to pass differently outside, and before you knew it, you had been gone longer than you had anticipated. laughing along with the jokes that toji made, you heard the door creep open, and turning your head you quickly noticed sukuna standing there.
“it’s getting busy,” he stated, although he seemed a little pale—like there was a lingering disappointment in his eyes. “manager’s been looking for you.”
“shoot,” you frowned, looking down at your watch, rushing back into the kitchen and praying that your tables weren’t getting angry. you ran past sukuna without saying anything else to either one of the men, trying to get back on track for the rest of your shift.
when sukuna stared down at toji, they didn’t exchange a single word, just a quick scowl and a vicious glare. it was like two animals trying to get territorial, the real question was which one would be successful?
── ❨ ⸝⸝ 𝑺𝒀𝑵𝑶𝑷. ❩ DOES YOUR KIDS LOOK MORE LIKE YOU OR HIM? ⸝⸝ MARRIED AU GACHIAKUTA BOYS!
ೀ 𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑻𝑨𝑰𝑵𝑺 - aged up zanka & fu, and fluff.
⊹ 𝑭𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮 - enjin ┆tamsy┆zanka┆corvus ┆august┆ gris┆ follo┆fu ┆zodyl┆jabber
𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐍 -
your first child would probably look so much like enjin that it nearly shocks everyone the first time they see the baby properly, because the second those sleepy little eyes slowly open.
it feels like looking at a softer and much smaller version of him, especially with the same sharp eyes and thick lashes that always make him look intense even when he is calm.
except on the baby it just makes them look adorable instead of intimidating.
the child would inherit his dark hair too, messy and fluffy no matter how much you try fixing it down after naps, and enjin secretly feels proud every single time someone points it out because he loves hearing people say, “that’s definitely your kid.”
but at the same time, the baby would have your softer features mixed into them in ways that calm down enjin’s harsher appearance, like your nose, your smile, and the shape of your cheeks that make the child look much warmer and easier to approach than he ever was growing up.
when the baby laughs, everyone immediately says that part came from you because the sound is light and sweet instead of rough or loud, and enjin always ends up staring a little too long whenever the child smiles because it reminds him so much of the person he loves most.
your second child would probably lean more toward you appearance-wise.
almost like the universe decided to make things fair after the first one copied enjin so badly, because this child would have your eyes completely, soft and expressive in a way that makes it impossible for them to hide what they are feeling.
even enjin struggles saying no to them because one sad look is enough to make him sigh and give in instantly.
your child’s hair might still carry enjin’s gold darker color, but maybe with your texture instead, softer and easier to manage, especially when you brush through it while they sit quietly between your legs.
personality-wise, though, both children would carry parts of enjin no matter what, especially the protective side of him.
even at a young age your children would always stay close to you naturally, almost attached to your side whenever enjin was away on a mission, and when he finally comes home, both of them instantly run toward him without hesitation.
because despite how intimidating he looks to other people, to your children he has always just been dad.
𝐓𝐀𝐌𝐒𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 -
tamsy and your twin boys (lol sorry i see him having twin boys..) would honestly look like the perfect mix of both of you, even if at first glance everyone immediately notices how much they resemble him.
because both children would inherit his messy hair, sharp eyes, and naturally expressive faces that somehow look mischievous even when they are sitting still doing nothing.
the second they get old enough to walk and talk, the entire house becomes louder, messier, and way more chaotic, mostly because tamsy encourages half the nonsense instead of stopping it like he should.
one twin would definitely look more like tamsy overall, almost like a smaller copy of him running around the house, especially with the same grin that usually means trouble is about to happen.
his darker hair would constantly stick up everywhere no matter how much you smooth it down, and he would inherit tamsy’s confidence too, always speaking loudly and acting fearless even when he absolutely should not be.
tamsy would secretly love seeing it, proudly teaching him little habits without realizing it, like crossing his arms the same way or smirking whenever he wins something small, and sometimes you genuinely feel like you are raising two versions of the same person.
the second twin would carry your softer features more clearly, especially in his eyes and smile, which makes him look calmer and sweeter than his brother even if he still has plenty of tamsy in him.
he would probably stay closer to you most of the time, quietly following you around while his twin runs off causing problems somewhere else, but the second he gets excited or annoyed, that resemblance to tamsy shows immediately.
his expressions become sharper, his attitude suddenly gets bolder, and you can practically see tamsy’s personality shining through him.
both boys would absolutely adore you though, always fighting over your attention and trying to sit closest to you whenever the family spends time together.
and tamsy would get fake jealous about it constantly, wrapping himself around you dramatically while complaining that “the twins stole you from me.”
even then, he looks ridiculously happy seeing his children love you so much, because despite all his teasing and chaotic behavior, there is something deeply comforting to him about seeing pieces of both himself and you living together in your sons.
𝐙𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐀 𝐍𝐈𝐉𝐈𝐊𝐔 -
zanka’s son would probably look the most like him out of the two children, especially once he starts getting older and his features slowly sharpen into that same naturally intimidating appearance zanka carries without even trying.
he would inherit his darker eyes and serious expressions almost perfectly, to the point people sometimes get nervous around him even though he is still young.
but the second he smiles, your softer features immediately show through and make him look much warmer than his father ever did growing up.
his hair would probably take after zanka too, always slightly messy no matter how much effort goes into fixing it before school or outings, and zanka secretly feels proud every time someone points out how similar they look.
personality-wise, your son would be quieter and more observant, usually sitting beside zanka while watching things carefully instead of running around loudly.
because of that, zanka ends up growing very attached to him without even realizing it.
he sees too much of himself in the boy sometimes, especially in the way he struggles expressing emotions openly, so zanka becomes gentler with him than anyone expects, always making sure his son knows he is loved without forcing him to speak when he does not want to.
your daughter, though, would probably resemble you far more physically, carrying your softer eyes, smile, and expressions that instantly make people feel comfortable around her.
she would probably have a calmer personality too, but unlike her brother, she would not hesitate to cling onto zanka constantly, following him around the house, tugging on his sleeve for attention, or climbing into his lap without warning whenever he sits down.
and honestly, zanka would act like it annoys him sometimes, sighing quietly while pretending to complain about how attached she is, but everyone can tell he absolutely melts for his daughter.
she would be one of the only people capable of making him visibly soften within seconds, especially when she smiles at him or proudly shows him tiny things she made herself.
no matter how tired or irritated he feels after a long day, he always ends up carrying her around anyway because he can never bring himself to say no to her properly.
together, your children would look like the perfect balance between both of you, your softness mixed with zanka’s stronger features in a way that somehow fits naturally.
every time zanka looks at them, there is this quiet expression on his face that makes it obvious he still cannot fully believe he managed to create a family that feels this safe and complete to him.
𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐕𝐔𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐇𝐀 -
your daughter would probably look so beautiful that people naturally stare a little too long the first time they see her.
because she would inherit corvus striking features in a much softer way, especially his eyes, which would look far gentler on her than they ever did on him.
from the moment she is born, everyone immediately notices the resemblance, especially the calm expressions she makes even as a baby, and corvus honestly cannot stop looking at her because every tiny feature feels unreal to him.
her hair would likely carry his darker shade too, soft and thick, just beautiful curls while the rest of her appearance would be balanced out by your features, especially in her smile and the softness of her face.
as she grows older, she would resemble the perfect mixture of both of you, carrying corvus’s elegance and quiet presence while still inheriting your approachable and comforting appearance that makes people feel safe around her instantly.
even when she is young, she would naturally carry herself in a calm and composed way, almost like she understands things more deeply than children her age normally do, and corvus secretly finds it both amusing and emotional because she reminds him so much of himself.
but unlike him, your daughter would probably be much more openly affectionate because of you.
she would cling onto corvus constantly whenever he returns home, reaching for him immediately the second she hears his voice, and despite his calm exterior, everyone can tell he completely melts for her.
the way his expression softens whenever he picks her up is honestly enough to shock people who only know the colder side of him, because with his daughter, he becomes unbelievably gentle without even trying.
she would absolutely have him wrapped around her finger too.
no matter how serious corvus acts around other people, his daughter only has to look at him with those big eyes for him to quietly give in almost every single time.
even when he tries saying no, she somehow convinces him anyway by hugging his arm or smiling sweetly at him, and you end up watching him lose arguments against a tiny little girl daily without much resistance.
your daughter would probably grow up admiring corvus deeply too, always following him around curiously and wanting to sit beside him while he works, even if she does not fully understand what he is doing.
corvus would pretend it distracts him, yet the second she leaves the room, he notices immediately because her presence becomes comforting to him without him realizing it.
and honestly, out of everything corvus has ever built or protected in his life, his daughter would probably become the thing he treasures most without question.
because every time he looks at her, he sees both you and himself combined into someone softer, happier, and loved far more gently than either of you were before.
𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐙𝐀 -
your childrens would honestly look like they stepped straight out of an expensive family magazine, because he would put so much care into everything about them.
especially the way they dress, and people would constantly stare whenever your family walked into public together.
before the children are even old enough to understand fashion properly, august is already designing tiny custom outfits for them himself, carefully picking fabrics, colors, jewelry, and shoes like it is the most important task in the world.
he absolutely refuses to let his children wear anything “plain,” and because he is rich enough to spoil them endlessly, your kids grow up surrounded by beautiful clothes, expensive materials, and wardrobes bigger than most adults.
your oldest son would probably resemble august the most physically, especially with his sharp eyes, elegant features, and naturally composed expressions that make him look older than he actually is.
even as a child, he carries himself with this quiet confidence that instantly reminds people of his father, and august secretly feels ridiculously proud whenever others point out the resemblance.
his hair would likely be styled perfectly almost all the time because august insists on fixing it before every outing, carefully smoothing it down while muttering about “presentation.”
but despite looking so polished, your son would still carry your softer personality underneath, especially around family, where he becomes more affectionate and relaxed.
your second son would probably inherit more of your appearance instead, especially in his smile and softer eyes, making him look warmer and more approachable than his older brother.
unlike the oldest, he would probably be far more energetic and playful too, always accidentally wrinkling the expensive clothes august spent hours choosing for him.
august acts dramatic about it every single time, sighing heavily while fixing crooked collars or brushing dirt off tiny designer shoes, yet everyone can tell he secretly adores it because it reminds him his children are still kids underneath all the luxury.
and then there is your daughter, who would completely own august’s heart from the second she is born.
honestly, he would spoil her terribly without shame.
she would probably inherit the prettiest mix of both of you, carrying august’s elegant features softened by your warmth, and he would treat dressing her up like a personal art project.
tiny dresses made with expensive fabrics, little accessories carefully matched to every outfit, custom shoes, ribbons, jewelry — august would go all out constantly because he genuinely loves seeing his daughter look beautiful.
your daughter would absolutely love it too, happily sitting still while august fixes her hair or adjusts her clothes with careful hands, proudly showing off whatever outfit her father made for her that week.
and no matter how rich or composed august appears around other people, the second his daughter smiles at him excitedly and says she loves what he made, he practically melts on the spot.
despite all the luxury surrounding your children, though, august would make sure they grow up feeling genuinely loved more than anything else.
yes, they would have expensive clothes, beautiful bedrooms, and anything they could ever want, but what matters most is that august is always there.
carefully buttoning tiny coats before outings, carrying sleepy children upstairs after long days, or staying awake late at night sketching new outfit ideas because creating things for the family he loves became one of the happiest parts of his life.
𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐑𝐔𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐍 -
gris would probably end up with two children with you, an older daughter and a younger son, and somehow both of them would inherit completely different sides of him in ways that make your family feel perfectly balanced.
your daughter would resemble you more at first glance, especially in her softer expressions and warmer blue ocean eyes, but the older she gets, the more little pieces of gris start appearing in her naturally.
she would inherit his hair color, his calmer personality, and especially the way he quietly watches people before speaking, which sometimes catches you off guard because it feels like looking at a smaller, gentler version of him.
unlike louder children, your daughter would probably be more reserved, preferring to stay close to family instead of seeking attention, and gris honestly finds comfort in that because she reminds him so much of himself growing up.
he would become unbelievably protective over her too, especially because she is his first child. even though gris is usually calm, there is this softer patience he only shows around her.
carefully helping her with little things, quietly listening whenever she rambles about random interests, or carrying her when she gets sleepy even after she insists she is “not tired.”
your daughter would absolutely adore him for it, always clinging onto his arm or sitting beside him whenever he works on something, and gris secretly treasures every second of it even if he does not always say it aloud.
your son, though, would definitely inherit more of gris physically, especially his sharper features and serious expressions, but personality-wise he would probably take after you more instead.
he would be more playful, louder, and constantly moving around the house causing chaos, which honestly surprises people because they expect him to act exactly like gris based on appearance alone.
instead, he ends up becoming the one dragging his quiet older sister into games and trying to make his father laugh at least once a day.
gris would act mildly tired from the energy sometimes, especially when your son starts climbing on him while he is trying to rest, but everyone can tell he secretly loves the attention because despite his calmer nature.
he enjoys how alive the house feels with children around. your son would also absolutely copy little habits from him without realizing it, like crossing his arms the same way or trying to mimic his deeper tone while talking.
and every single time it happens, you catch gris hiding a tiny smile because he finds it endearing.
both children would grow up extremely attached to him in different ways too. your daughter seeks comfort quietly, usually sitting beside gris without saying much.
while your son shows affection loudly by throwing himself onto him for hugs or demanding attention immediately after he comes home.
and somehow, gris handles both naturally, becoming this steady and dependable presence your children trust completely without hesitation.
together, your children would feel like different reflections of both you and gris mixed together, your warmth balancing his quieter nature perfectly.
and even if gris is not always the most openly emotional person, there would be countless moments where he simply looks at his family silently with this softer expression on his face, like he still cannot believe these people are truly his.
𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎 𝐓𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐎 -
follo’s child would probably be a little girl, and honestly, she would look so much like both of you combined that people would constantly point it out every time they see her.
she would inherit follo’s softer features almost perfectly, especially his eyes, which would always carry that naturally emotional and gentle look that makes it hard for people to stay upset with him for long.
but mixed with your features, those same eyes would look warmer and brighter on her, giving her this sweet appearance that immediately makes others adore her.
her hair would probably take after follo too, soft and slightly messy no matter how carefully you brush it down in the morning, and follo would secretly love fixing it himself even if he acts nervous every single time.
honestly, he would be the type of father who overthinks everything when it comes to his child, constantly worrying if he is doing things correctly, asking if she ate enough, slept enough, or if she looked cold even when she clearly is not.
you would probably catch him checking on her multiple times during the night just to make sure she is still sleeping peacefully.
your daughter would absolutely cling to him too because despite how timid and nervous follo can act, she would feel completely safe around him naturally.
she would always reach for him first whenever she wants comfort, quietly climbing into his lap while he is sitting somewhere or tugging on his sleeve until he picks her up.
and every single time he holds her, follo’s entire expression softens so much that it almost feels unreal seeing someone usually so tense become that gentle instantly.
she would probably inherit your more social personality though, meaning she talks much more than follo does, often rambling happily while he quietly listens with full attention like every tiny story she tells is the most important thing in the world.
sometimes he would just sit there staring at her with this emotional look in his eyes because he genuinely cannot believe someone so small trusts and loves him that much.
and honestly, follo would spoil her emotionally more than materially. instead of buying endless things, he would focus on making sure she always feels loved, reassured, and safe.
he would praise her constantly for small accomplishments, encourage her softly whenever she gets nervous, and apologize immediately if he ever thinks he upset her even slightly.
your daughter would probably grow up very attached to both of you because the home around her always feels gentle and comforting, even during quiet moments.
𝐅𝐔 𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑 -
you and fu would have twin boy and a girl, and honestly, both of them would inherit his softer appearance so strongly that people immediately know they are his children the second they see them.
both twins would have his gentle eyes and delicate features, except your traits would soften them even more, making them look incredibly sweet and approachable.
even as babies, they would already seem calmer compared to most children, usually preferring to stay close to you or fu instead of running toward strangers immediately.
your daughter would probably resemble you slightly more overall, especially in her smile and expressions, but she would still inherit fu’s naturally timid and gentle look around the eyes.
she would likely be quieter, always staying close to family and carefully observing things before speaking, and because of that, fu would become very attached to her without even realizing it.
he would understand her silence naturally, often noticing what she needs before she even asks, and your daughter would grow up clinging onto him constantly because she feels safest around him.
your son, though, would probably carry more of fu’s appearance directly, especially his softer facial features and nervous expressions whenever he gets shy or embarrassed.
unlike his sister, though, he would likely inherit more of your energy, becoming slightly more playful and curious even if he still stays gentle overall.
he would ask endless questions, follow fu around constantly, and always try helping him with random tasks even when he is too small to actually do much properly.
fu would honestly be such an overly careful father with both of them too. he would worry about everything constantly, making sure they are warm enough, fed enough, sleeping enough, and safe at all times.
you would probably catch him quietly checking on the twins multiple times during the night because he cannot stop overthinking, especially when they are babies.
even when the children get older, he still hovers nearby naturally, always ready to help the second they need something.
both twins would absolutely adore him for it, though.
your daughter would quietly hold onto his hand whenever you all go out together, while your son would constantly climb onto him for hugs or attention, and every single time it happens, fu’s face turns slightly pink because he still gets emotional over how much his children love him openly.
𝐙𝐎𝐃𝐘𝐋 𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐍 -
you would only have one son that probably look almost exactly like him in the most intimidating way possible, to the point people naturally become nervous around the child before even speaking to him properly.
from a young age, your son would inherit zodyl’s sharp eyes, colder expressions, and stronger facial features, making him look far more serious than children his age normally do.
even the way he quietly watches people would remind others of zodyl immediately, and honestly, it would catch you off guard sometimes how similar they look standing beside each other.
but other than inheriting so much of zodyl physically, your son would still carry pieces of you that soften him in quieter ways, especially through his smile and emotions.
unlike zodyl, your son would probably show affection more openly because of you, even if he still acts reserved around strangers. with family, though, he becomes much gentler, especially around you.
he would always stay near your side naturally, quietly following you around the house or sitting beside you without needing constant conversation.
zodyl would pretend not to care much at first when your son is born, acting calmer and more detached compared to most fathers, but the truth becomes obvious over time through small things he does without realizing it.
he would stand near the crib longer than necessary while the baby sleeps, immediately notice whenever his son gets hurt or upset, and quietly make sure nothing dangerous ever gets close to him.
his protectiveness would not be loud or emotional, but it would always be there.
your son would probably admire zodyl deeply too, especially as he grows older.
he would copy little habits from him constantly, like the way he stands, talks, or crosses his arms, and even though zodyl acts indifferent about it outwardly, there would always be this hidden satisfaction in his expression whenever he notices. secretly, he would feel proud knowing his son looks up to him that much.
and your son would probably become one of the only people capable of softening zodyl naturally without effort.
even when zodyl looks cold toward the rest of the world, the second his son reaches for him or quietly asks to stay beside him, something in his expression changes almost immediately.
he would never become overly affectionate or emotional outwardly, but his son would still grow up fully understanding he is loved because zodyl shows it through actions instead of words.
𝐉𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 -
you and jabber would have the kind of family that feels loud, messy, and alive all the time, like there is always something happening no matter what hour of the day it is.
toys left in hallways, laughter coming from another room, random arguments that somehow turn into everybody laughing five minutes later — that would basically become normal in your house once the kids are old enough to run around on their own.
your son would be a complete menace in the most exhausting way possible.
not mean, not cruel, just constantly moving like he was born with too much energy stuffed into one body.
he would climb onto counters just to grab snacks himself instead of asking, jump off furniture after being told not to ten seconds earlier, and somehow always come back inside dirty no matter where he went.
he would resemble jabber enough that people instantly notice the connection, especially whenever he smiles too confidently after doing something stupid.
the worst part is jabber would never properly discourage him because he thinks half the things your son does are hilarious. instead of punishing him immediately, he would be sitting there trying not to laugh while you stare at both of them in disbelief.
your son would think his father is the coolest person alive too, always trying to impress him in tiny ways, like showing him random bugs he found outside or bragging after winning games.
your daughter would feel completely different from her brother. she wouldn’t run around loudly or crash into things constantly.
she would carry herself in a calmer way, almost like she already knows exactly how to get what she wants without making a scene over it.
she would probably sit beside you quietly while drawing or playing with little dolls, but the second she decides she wants something, suddenly everybody realizes how stubborn she actually is.
jabber would struggle saying no to her more than anyone else in the family.
she would not even need to beg much either. one small hug, one sweet smile, and suddenly he is agreeing to things he swore he would never allow.
your daughter would absolutely notice this weakness too and use it against him shamelessly.
the funniest part would honestly be how differently the children interact with jabber.
your son treats him like a best friend he wants to roughhouse with constantly, while your daughter treats him more like someone she can wrap around her finger whenever she feels like it.
and somehow, jabber loves both dynamics equally because no matter how chaotic life gets, coming home to his kids screaming “dad!” the second he walks through the door would become his favorite part of every day.
enjin wants nothing more than for you to get a tattoo. — cw : masturbation
you were so sneaky about it.
enjin had always been shamelessly vocal about it.
every time you passed someone with ink his eyes focused on the fine lines or bold marks that told stories. then he glanced at you with a little smirk tugging on his lips. he was definitely not shy with his need to see your skin marked.
“you’d look good with tattoos,” he’d said once, thumb brushing absentmindedly over your skin. “real good.”
you laughed it off at the time, teasing him for his obvious bias. he didn’t deny it, not even a little.
“what?” he’d shrugged. “can’t help liking the idea of something permanent on you.”
something permanent. you remembered the way his gaze had filled with lustfilled greed when he said it.
so yeah. you were about to do something silly for your man.
the hardest part was sneaking out to get the tattoo in the first place, because enjin liked to follow you around like you had sugar in your ass. but you managed!
then the healing and hiding part. and oh, the choosing what you want and where you wanted it. because if you did this you were going to do it right.
enjin, that clever man he was, knew something was off. especially when you first avoided sex, then left your shirt on, claiming you felt bloated and not pretty.
“you’re acting weird,” he pouted from the bed while you shuffled around.
“am not.”
“are too.”
you rolled your eyes, but your heart was beating a little faster now. anticipation, nerves, because it was about to happen and you hoped he liked it.
he sat up slightly, eyes narrowing. “what’re you hiding?”
“nothing,” you said sweetly.
that only made it worse. he jumped up and crossed the room until he stood right in front of you. looking innocently up you bit your bottom lip.
“you’re terrible at lying,” he accused.
you tilted your head, pretending. “prove it.”
his hand moved before you could react. long fingers hooked at the hem of your shirt.
“enjin!”
“relax,” he huffed, though there was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes now. “just checking something.”
you didn’t stop him. slowly he lifted the fabric and then he froze. the air whooshed out of his lungs.
“no way.” his voice dropped to a rough whisper.
you bit back a smile, because there it was. right along your side, your ribs where it curved naturally with your body was his name. and beside it was his jinki, the umbreaker. perfectly inked.
for a moment he didn’t move. didn’t speak. didn’t even breathe properly. then he frantically pulled the shirt over your head and dropped to his knees to look, stare, didn’t blink. he was completely baffled by what he saw.
“you’re kidding me,” he whispered.
“nope.”
his head snapped up to look at you, and his expression was absolutely wrecked. then his golden eyes darkened, becoming intense, possessive.
“you actually—” he dragged a hand through his hair. “you actually put my name on you?”
“mhm.”
“permanently.”
you nodded, a little smug now. he laughed breathlessly.
“that’s—” he exhaled loudly. “that’s insane.”
“you don’t like it?” you teased.
wrong thing to say.
his hand came up immediately to slide across the ink decorating your skin.
“don’t start,” he hissed as he leaned in to kiss the tattoo. to lick and bite on it. “this is mine. you’re mine.”
that possessive streak he never really hid yeah. it was thriving right now.
“say it,” he added.
you blinked. “what?”
“that it’s mine.”
your breath caught. “it’s yours.”
that did something to him. you saw the way his shoulders squared, the way his grip tightened.
“fuck,” he breathed, letting his fingers trace the lines of his name, then the umbreaker beside it. “you’ve got no idea what you just did to me.”
“i think i do.”
he huffed a laugh, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you.
“i’m showing this to everyone,” he said suddenly.
you snorted. “enjin.”
“no, seriously,” he cut in, grinning now, that giddy, almost boyish excitement bleeding through. “they’re gonna lose it.”
“you’re unbelievable.”
“you literally tattooed my name on your body.”
“fair.”
“you’re mine.” his eyes met yours again. “and now get on the bed. i need to mark it properly.”
your knees felt weak as you laid down in the bed, not knowing what to expect. for a moment enjin just stood there and admired your body, the tattoo - all of you.
that tattoo wasn’t only you giving in to his silly wish. it was a promise - a forever promise.
suddenly he rushed forward and straddled your lap. his hands shook as he fumbled with the zipper of his pants, but when you wanted to help him he just swatted your hand away.
“no, i’ve to—you let me, yeah?”
you nodded as your whole body flushed with heat. finally he pulled his cock out, that was already swollen and purple at the crown with need.
he spat into his palm twice and wrapped his fingers around the thick length. frantically he stroked himself, tip aimed at the tattoo. his groans are low and wrecked, eyes focused on your ink.
“do you want me to help you?” you whispered aroused.
“n-no,” he choked out. “i’ll take care of you later.”
his fists pumped faster. obscene slick sounds filled the room as spit and precum mixed under his grip. his chest heaved and his eyes stayed glued to the tattoo. fuck, he had imagined your skin marked a lot, but he never imagined you’d make it this personal.
another possessive wave had his body shuddering with animalistic lust. sweat beaded on his forehead as every stroke dragged a ragged groan from his throat, hips bucking into his hand.
all while you watched. your panties were so soaked and your breathing was shallow. it took you lot of strength not to beg him to shove his cock into your greedy cunt. especially when it throbbed in his palm.
the crown flushed darker - some white pearls forming at the slit before he smeared them down his shaft.
and then you squirmed. immediately his hand came down to your hip roughly to hold you in position and to ground himself.
“fuuuuck. look at you,” he rasped. “wearing my name. gonna cover it… yea, make it even more perfect.”
his thighs tensed and his muscles flexed with every desperate jerk. a quiet whine bubbled from his throat. for a second his head tipped back before it snapped forward again, pupils blown wide. he was close. the air grew thick with the musky scent of him.
you could cum untouched from watching him.
“mine,” he nearly roared.
his strokes blurred, fist twisting at the base, chasing the edge. it hit him hard. his abs clenched, a guttural moan ripping free as ropes of cum spilled hot across the tattoo. thick white streaks painted his name, dripping over the umbreaker, marking the ink with his release. he kept pumping through it, milking every drop onto your skin.
you moaned along with him at the hot feeling. your clit pulsed and your hole throbbed with need, but when you wanted to reach out to collect his cum and taste it he swatted your hand away again.
“leave it on,” he panted. “i want to keep looking at it when i fuck you into oblivion.”
so after surviving battlefield (uni midterms and deadlines) I think I’ll be fully back this week 🤭🤭 and of course there’ll be some new jjk dad content 😌
sinopsis: in which sukuna is forced to see the love of his life, marry the love of her life.
contents: casual mention of suguru x reader (reader is marrying suguru), everything is sukuna POV, lovers to ex-lovers to strangers, angst, no comfort, arguments, alcohol, mentions and use of drugs, heavy gaslighting, also mentions of mental abuse (?), reader was in a real bad mental state after their breakup, mentions of reader stopping eating (is brief), just sukuna realising he was an asshole to the only woman he loved.
a/n: this will be divided in three parts, everything is from sukuna's point of view – please if I forgot to mention any trigger make sure to let me know! also this has not been proof read yet! + divider by @hyuneskkami !
It’s 7:00 am, Sukuna looks at you — it’s too damn early to be asking these questions, but it’s you who we’re talking about so he indulges. Like always.
“No, I don’t like bugs” he says plainly, he looks at your dumbfounded expression, he’s trying his hardest to not crack a smile.
“But you took care of my ant farm” you say “so that means you love me”
“Then there’s your answer woman. Now go to sleep” he says as he wraps his arms around you, his body heat lulling you to sleep.
What you don’t know is that actually he didn’t take care of your ant farm. Well, he tried but Yuji thought it was a good idea to use them as food for Choso’s carnivorous plant. But you’ll never know.
content: just suguru having a bunch of kids, the twist is that they’re ALL boys, that man can’t rest, mentions of pregnancy, suguru and reader being all over each other, their kids getting cringed at it
dilf!suguru that never in his forty something years old would have thought that he would end up with four children. and on top of that, all boys.
dilf!suguru that since the arrival of his first son hasn’t had a single day of peace. Yuu, who is the spitting image of his mother but with a bratty attitude that he unfortunately used to have at his age.
dilf!suguru who after years of dealing with his sons, he still hasn’t mastered the art of falling into rage bait. he falls for it. every. single. time.
“dad do you ever wish that you were taller?” his second son, Shin asked one time. Suguru, who was looking at his computer sorting the bills looks at his son straight in the eyes. a sigh leaves his lips “what do you mean by that? I am tall”
“oh, well whatever makes you feel confident and happy I guess” says Haruki (his third son) who appears out of nowhere “you know that mom sometimes lies to us a little bit just to make us feel better, right?”
dilf!suguru who at this point his main way of communication is by sighing, you swear you could even write a whole dictionary by interpreting his variety of sighs.
dilf!suguru who smiles at his youngest son, his little ray of sunshine, choso, so innocent, and unlike his brothers who are a mix of both of you, he ended up being his spitting image. same mannerism, shy and sweet like his mom, big purple eyes who stares at him like he is the strongest hero in the world.
dilf!suguru who would spend his Saturdays and Sundays playing baseball with his gremlins and of course you. Which would eventually end up with the boys complaining about how their sweet behaviour reached “diabetic levels” — consequently leading to little choso and haruki defending their parents because at least they’re not “sad emo girlfriendless boys” that keep “losing aura” with their constant drama.
dilf!suguru who although his blood pressure has reached levels that no human has ever reached still loves his sons with all his heart. at the end of the day they’re the result of the undying and eternal love the both of you share.
𝓨𝒖𝒕𝒂 was obsessed with you. not in the way you'd expect. not in the demanding, or the aggressive or even the outwardly possessive way. it was persistent. dedicated. and worst of all?
loving.
he never quite got over you after the breakup. a year after the shinjuku showdown. you said he changed. he insisted he grew.
“i miss my sweet boy,” you'd said.
“aren't I sweet?” he still smiled like it.
you shook your head. turned away. told him there was something else in his smile. something shifted. an innocence you mourned.
he never quite let you grieve his absence, though. your coffee would be on your desk in the morning. your favourite flowers delivered every other week. you'd find him on your doorstep with takeout and a smile. find him in your apartment cooking, cleaning, making your bed, making things easier for you.
“what're you doing here?” you confronted him. got up in his face. looked at him like he was an irritable nightmare.
and yuta? he just smiled. never a threat. never a warning. looking at you like you were the sweetest dream.
“we're friends, aren't we?” he tilted his head. “that's what you said we were.”
“yeah well—”
“friends take care of each other, don't they?” his head tilted. that flicker of innocence that you lost shimmered in his eyes. ached your heart. flared your mind. because he knew what he was doing.
this wasn't first, nor second year. okkotsu yuta knew how to get under your skin, and he did so with the same smile that stuttered your chest.
he was insistent. promising he'd wait for you. assuring that you just needed time. but then another year went by, then another, and another— and before you knew it? he was twenty three and still delivering your favourite flowers.
it was overwhelming. he claimed love should feel like that. said love should be something that you chased for.
what scared you the most? the way his cursed energy crackled whenever he said it. like it really was his curse onto you.
“you can't chase me forever, okkotsu.” you'd hissed, as he stood in your kitchen. using your ingredients. cooking you dinner.
he didn't even look up. “that's what you think.”
then he turned to you with a spoonful of soup and the flat of his hand brushing beneath your chin to raise it. just slightly. delicately.
he smiled. “now. . . say ah.”
he frustrated you. with his kind smile. with his shifted outlook on life. with the maturity he'd developed when you just weren't looking.
finding someone else was impossible.
going back to him felt like a sentence.
so when you'd snapped, who could blame you?
when you snatched his sword from his very sheath and swiped it through the air. bladed it to his throat. a threat, a shaky promise. with your trembling hands and your snarling lips.
he didn't flinch.
and that's what frustrated you more.
a special grade sorcerer like himself, what could you possibly do?
you saw it in his eyes. he asked the question without even uttering a word. a calm confidence that eased from him in the arch of his brow and the unfaltering look on his face.
he was sure of himself. and even worse: unafraid of death.
truly, not your sweet boy anymore.
no sweetness in the way he stepped closer. no sweetness in his shadow that loomed over you. in the paleness of his neck that pushed closer to his blade.
“you want to kill me?” he asked. drawled, simple. as if asking about the weather, and not his life that was held in hands he clearly still wanted to kiss.
his hand shifted. long fingers curling around the blade. tight. unflinching. he yanked it closer. shoved his neck further. till the steel bit into his skin. into his fingers.
and even while you shook. while you gaped and hesitance faltered your grip— he stood there.
staring into your eyes. into your very soul.
he spoke clear. crystal. calm.
“do it properly, then.”
his face pressed further. digging deeper into the blade if it only meant to be closer to you.
not a blink. not a breath.
just brutal. bloody. devotion.
“kill me,” he breathed. cold lips brushing yours. his own blood dripping from his fingers. “just make sure to curse me a little.”
genre/tags/cw: mentions of violence, teensy bits of angst, satoru tears up, use of infinity, reader babies him, mentions of nudity (no nsfw), fluff, pet names (my love), mentions of showering together
to say that satoru had a long day was an understatement. dealing with hormonal and reckless teenagers, fighting curses, and getting backlash from the clan was enough for the day to weigh heavily on him.
he keyed through the door, his wrists tired and achy, blindfold halfway off, and the small of his back on fire from the amount of combat he had to do in order to save the world. before he got through the door, satoru thought he could never feel peace after the day he had.
that was until he saw you. your face glowing with softened eyes. the calm to his storm—your body already up and moving once you laid your gaze upon him.
with his long legs, he strode to your open arms. you were met by a barrier, which was his infinity nonetheless. you looked at him and he couldn’t do nothing but have just the slightest bit of tears in his eyes. taking a deep breath, your eyes eased, making satoru’s stomach settle down from the nausea that was burning the back of his throat.
finally, it turned off, and he was melting into your embrace as soon as your body made contact with his. letting out a deep sigh, he hugged you even tighter, nestling his nose in between your shoulder and neck.
it wasn’t often that satoru came in with no words and pure exhaustion. even if that was the case, he still pushed through in order to make you the happiest and most unworried wife in the whole world. but it was times like these where silence and solace was just what he needed—you were all that he needed.
so, you didn’t say anything. instead, you unwrapped his lanky, sore arms from your body, and took one hand to guide him to the living room sofa. you laid down first, signaling satoru to lay on top of your frame.
without uttering a word to him, he knew exactly what you wanted him to do. he gently plopped down on you, his head on your torso and his arms yet again wrapped around your waist.
as soon as your manicured hand made its way to his white hair, dirtied from the day, he felt his shoulders relax in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. his thumb traces along your back simultaneously, also making sure your comforted as well.
that was the most beautiful thing about satoru. even though he was hurting, he made sure you were loved and cared for.
after a few minutes, satoru finally decided to break the silence.
“i’m sorry, i’ve just had a really rough day today,” he says, his head turned to face the side of the brown couch cushion—not daring to look at you correctly—but you make him.
your fingers take a grip on his chin, forcing his blue eyes to meet yours. for some reason, his brain tells him to shift upwards, his chest against yours—two hearts touching.
without saying anything, you planted a soft kiss on his nose, then slowly moved down until your lips were almost touching with his. although you wanted to be the first one, satoru had you beat, gently grabbing the back of your head to close the gap between the two of you.
it wasn’t rough. it wasn’t lustful. the kiss was soft and sweet. a token of his appreciation for just being the women that you are. he knew that being his wife was enough, but you always went the extra mile to make sure he was well loved.
you pulled back, making satoru’s forehead rest against yours as if he couldn’t be pulled away even if gravity tried.
“you don’t have to be sorry for anything, my love. you are the strongest person in the world but you need to be taken care of as well.”
those words hit him hard. with anybody else, he was seen as a weapon—a man who could make the word crumble in a mere second.
with you however, he was just satoru. not satoru gojo, just satoru. a husband and a devoted one at that. someone who deserved to be loved, happy, and respected. you didn’t see him for what he was, but for who he is. the nakedness of his soul was only seen by you.
satoru takes a shaky, but calm sigh. “i love you so much. you don’t understand.”
hearing him so quiet and weak—you hate it so much, but his allowance for letting his walls down made you feel better about your wearied husband.
before you said anything, you disconnected your forehead from his to scatter pecks across his face, earning a breathy laugh that could could make crying babies smile. finally, you landed one more kiss to his lips.
“i love you too, satoru. my husband and sweet boy,” you say sweetly before adding one small detail, command, and resolution. “i hate to ruin this beautiful moment, but you really do stink. if you go take a shower i’ll give you a nice neck massage.”
by the time your words hit the first syllable of the word ‘massage’ he was off of you and already down the hall to your shared bathroom. you follow him slowly, until you hear him shout a question that echoed across the house.
“do you want to take a bubble bath with me? i’ll shower first and use those salts that you like.”
now you’re in the bedroom, getting ready for the bath you are going to take with the man you love very much. he’s going to take a relaxing bath with the woman who makes him the strongest man in the entirety of the universe.
enjin couldn’t get rid off the feeling that something was about to happen soon. things had been too quiet, but he felt prepared - trusted his cleaner crew.
rudo and riyo talked about strategies, their jinkis. enjin barely listened as his eyes scanned the area.
nothing moved and he shrugged to himself. taking the chance he put a cigarette between his lips and reached into his coat for a lighter.
his fingers curled around… well, not his lighter. with a frown he pulled it out and held a tube of lipstick in his hand.
“uh,” follo blinked. “you planning to charm the trash beasts or?”
enjin didn’t answer as he stared at the lipstick. quietly he exhaled through his nose. his thumb brushed over the casing absentmindedly, recognizing it instantly. you had been looking for it earlier, muttering under your breath while checking your bag.
“you took my lighter again,” you had said.
he hadn’t corrected you. now it made sense.
rudo leaned closer. “you’re smiling.”
“i’m not.”
“you literally are.”
enjin slipped the lipstick back into his coat, cigarette still unlit between his lips.
“we’ll finish this quickly,” he said instead.
“why.”
“she’ll want that back.”
everyone groaned, but it was affectionately - everyone liked you. and everyone liked enjin a little more since you’ve tamed him and declared him as your husband.
“you’re so gone,” riyo giggled.
enjin didn’t deny it.
he just reached into another pocket for his actual lighter and, for a brief moment, his expression stayed softer than usual. he’d rather be home now and cuddle you, but also he needed to make the world a little safer for you, and everyone important to him.
yuta entered the door of your bedroom, trembling in pain, but not just any pain.
this pain was sexual. his cock throbbed with need, just from thinking about you. you were away for the weekend, with some friends. and he was all alone stuck thinking about you.
he even took a freezing cold shower to sooth this need
but that didn’t help.
and to make things worse yuta knew this was wrong- he was very aware of how pathetic this is.
but he couldn’t stay like this!? he needed you, so badly.
you aren’t here though. so what better opportunity than this? stealing your pretty panties was the only solution to fix this big problem.
he walks into your room, the smell of you immediately filling-his nostrils. he sighs. opening the top drawer of your dresser, a lacy lilac thong sitting right on top, his cock twitches in his boxers,he lets out a whimper, “f-fuck.” he shoves the pair into the pockets of his sweats, moving quickly out of your bedroom.
he hurriedly walked towards his bedroom, nearly slamming the door, on instinct his hands dug into his pockets, pulling out the pair of your stolen panties. brings them to his nose, inhaling your scent, his eyes rolled back. he cupped his cock through the soft fabric of his joggers.
yuta felt like an animal.
though his hand snaked lower.
and lower. till he reached the waist band of his boxers, he’s dripping in precum, absolutely soaked. the sight alone was full blown humiliating. but yuta couldn’t bring himself to care.
not when it felt so good.
the relief and pleasure he felt. the second his hand wrapped around his hard shaft. immediately letting out a pathetic moan, “s-shit ah!” he threw his head back, fucking into his palm harder, his hand slide up and down repeatedly, sheets drenched in precum. your name leaving his lips ever so often.
you were fortunately coming to surprise him- well actually your weekend vacay was sort of a disappointment! so you decided to spend the rest of the weekend with your roommate. who was jerking off right across hall.
you entered your shared apartment. immediately looking for yuta, you walk down the hall. “yuta? you home?” you called out softly, you press you ear against the door,
you hear crying? you lightly knock on his door.
no response?
you’re kinda worried so you open the door only instead…of crying,
you see..
“fuck..i’m gonna cum ngh!” he moans, thick ropes of cum dripped down his wrist, soaking his bed sheets. and your panties.
that…
he was so dazed he didn’t even notice you standing right there.
you try to say something. but your throat had gone dry. “yuta….are those my underwear?” you nervously muttered. his body froze at the sound of your voice.
did you really see that?
he’s mortified. “i- i’m sorry I’m sorry-“ he apologized repeatedly, anxiously running his hands through his hair, feeling so ashamed of his stupid horny actions.
“don’t apologize i’m not mad” you entered his bedroom, walking towards him. “just…surprised is all, i didn’t know you felt that way about me.” he couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eye, “though im very flattered”
“wish you’d said something to me… i could’ve fixed this problem.” you murmur, sitting on the edge of his bed. “you think i could have those back when you’re done?”
I like to think Choso purposely makes his face mark bleed so you'll think he's injured and rush to his side, fawning over him.
"Oh my god, Choso. What happened? What did you do?" You rest his head on your lap, pressing tissues to the wound, with a furrow in your brows.
Meanwhile, he's fully hard and leaking in his pants as his entire vision is filled with the curve of your breasts. He fakes a soft voice and says, "This just happens sometimes."
"What can I do to help?"
Choso's lips curl up ever so slightly before he forces a faux-reluctant frown. "I-if my blood rushes down, away from my face, maybe it'll stop."
"Down?" you ask. "Down where?"
He drags your hand, lower and lower, until you're gripping something hard and scalding. You gasp.
"Here. Maybe if you release the tension here, I'll feel better."
You deadpan, fighting the urge to look at a non-existent camera in the corner. "Oh, I bet you will."
Nodding, he urges you to begin rubbing at the tent, letting out a whorish moan. With a roll of your eyes, you let him rut into your palm. Maybe you aid him with a squeeze here and there. But you'll never admit to it.
It's better if he thinks he's got you wrapped around his finger instead of the other way around.
face turned to the side, cheek pressed against the worn leather of your chair, breath already too uneven for someone who claimed he could “handle a little needle.” his back stretched under your hand, muscles twitching every time the machine buzzed back to life.
“stay still,” you murmured.
enjin exhaled sharply, fingers curling against the edge of the table. his hips shifted once - almost rutted - as he nodded.
the ink sank into his skin in deliberate lines, and he reacted to every single one. he leaned into the machine, chasing it, like the sting was something he needed more of.
a quiet, shaky sound left him. you paused for a second, and let the silence stretch.
“you like that, don’t you?”
his breath hitched hard enough that it made you smile. you resumed, dragging the needle along another sensitive spot you’d already mapped out in your head.
his reaction was immediate. shoulders tensing, back arching slightly before he forced himself back down.
“don’t move,” you reminded… like you weren’t the reason he was falling apart under you.
another pass. another sharp inhale.
his composure was slipping now. little cracks showed in the way his breathing stuttered, in the way his hips betrayed him with small, helpless movements.
you leaned in so that your voice brushed against his ear, “good boy.”
that did it.
his whole body locked, and his cheeks turned hot. his breath broke desperately as he choked on a moan. the two words hit somewhere deeper than any needle ever could.
then he went completely still, like he couldn’t trust himself to move at all.
you didn’t stop. you didn’t mention the soft salty scent of cum filling the small parlor. you just smiled to yourself.
the machine buzzed steadily as you kept working, unbothered, precise - like he wasn’t unraveling beneath your hands. like the way his muscles trembled didn’t mean anything at all.
slowly the tension ebbed. the twitching eased. his breathing started to come back down, though it stayed uneven, like he hadn’t quite recovered. only then did you finally pull back.
“you need a break?”
immediately he shook his head, a quiet wrecked sound slipping from his mouth, “no… please don’t.”
“then stay still,” you smiled.
he tried. fuck, he tried so much to be good for you.
