#and then you didn't know why you felt so.....apathetic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

envy-of-the-apple · 3 months

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Monsoon

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

10.1k wc

Synopsis: Four years after Toji Fushiguro died, Satoru decided to give his widow a visit

(Warnings: age difference (nothing underaged), dark content, AFAB reader, pregnancy kink, non con, overstimulation, piv sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, rough sex)

It was raining when Gojo Satoru entered your flat.

Not particularly harshly, but more than enough for a scare. You weren't in the mood for visitors; the rain made you drowsy, and it was coincidentally your one day off. You wanted to lean against the window and watch the droplets fall against the pavement with a warm blanket. You did not want to exchange pleasantries with some kid.

The only reason you didn't slam the door in his face was because he said your husband's name.

It was why you were bringing tea to someone who clearly couldn't care less about it as he lounged on the sofa. You sat on the other end, staring at the scuffed coffee table. Out of anxiety, you play with the ring wrapped around your finger.

"...He's dead?"

It's a question, but you already know the answer. Gojo doesn't even bother to reply, humming, taking a sip of the lukewarm liquid. You still stare at the coffee table. It's slightly crooked. One of the legs was broken. Toji promised he'd fix it.

That was four years ago. You hadn't seen him since.

You should have expected this. You knew the kind of man Toji was even before he stuck that flimsy ring on your finger. The kinds of people he hung out with. The suspicious amounts of money he would shower you with. There would have never been a happy end for the two of you.

You can still feel your throat close up, bile rise from your belly. You can't do anything but watch the old table you never threw out because he promised he'd come back and fix it.

The only reason you close your eyes, sucked in a tight breath, was because you still had a guest over. One that clearly wouldn't care about your crocodile tears.

You've never seen someone his age so apathetic before. That temperament was associated with the people of your generation. The people who've already been in the workforce, who carried stress on their backs and hips. You can't see his eyes, but the slouch in his posture is indicative enough. Maybe all kids his age were like this. Uncaring, indifferent, subtly disrespectful.

Because he was a kid. It didn't matter how tall he was, how much bigger than you he was. A single look was all you needed to know that this boy was at least a decade younger than you. Unkept white hair, sunglasses despite the weather, a cocky smile, a voice oozing with misplaced confidence.

You don't acknowledge it; it's clear he didn't come here just to tell you your husband is dead.

"How old's your kid? Eight?" Gojo tilts his head. "You gotta' know what that means, right?"

You do. Even if you weren't steeped into the world your husband willfully left, you know enough. You know how important your son is.

It's why you stop Gojo before he can make his offer. You've already heard this before, a week ago when men with Zenin as their last names knocked on your door.

"Thank you for your concern," you tell him as calmly and respectfully as you can. For the first time, the man straightens up, as if your answer wasn't what he expected. You can sense he isn't used to being told no.

You keep your smile neutral, pleasant, final.

"But we're fine as we are."

Moments later, when he's about to leave, you offer an umbrella, insistent on him taking it. It was raining after all. He takes it with him without any protest.

You don't notice that, despite the downpour, he was perfectly dry when he stepped into your home.

☔︎︎

Megumi was always special.

Every mother thinks that for their child. You're no exception. As soon as he was born, tiny in your arms, swaddled in blankets, something shifted within you. You'd always wanted children, but the concrete feeling of your child in your arms when he's so vulnerable. You'd never felt anything more right.

To you, Megumi was always special. But when Megumi turned 5, he became special to the entire world.

Toji was never tight-lipped about the world he came from. Shamans, sorcerers, shikigami, curses. You weren't an expert, but you certainly knew more than the average person. He'd often tell you things, when he was drunk, pulling you against his bare chest, underneath cheap blankets. You always heard the bitterness in his voice. That world had rejected him. It would reject anyone who wasn't special enough. Special people were rare.

It's why you were convinced Megumi would never have to deal with any of that. His father wasn't a sorcerer, neither were you. He'd live a normal life and would only be special to you.

"It's on your other shoulder."

You switched hands, reaching over to tug on your sleeve. Like always, you couldn't feel anything. There was no weight on your skin, nothing tangible that you could grab and toss. There was just this small feeling of dread. A small ache in your bones.

He waves a tiny hand. Instantly, the feeling of dread is gone. The ache lifts and you roll your shoulders.

"Thank you," you tell him with a strained, but grateful smile. He nods, turning back to his food.

"You're getting more, now," he simply says.

"Haha, sorry," you reply instinctively because even though he's eight, you feel like you've burdened him.

"It's okay," he mutters, quiet as always. His gaze flicks back up at you, before glancing back down. He takes a second to gnaw on his lip.

"Are...are you okay?"

You're being so obvious even your own son could see it.

Your smile feels more forced as you placate him with the usual lie of 'Mommy's just tired, long day at work'. He doesn't buy it, but he doesn't say anything back. He's so much like his father in these moments. Truthfully, you didn't think Megumi got a single thing from you. His black hair is Toji's, his blue eyes are Toji's, his pale skin is Toji's, and even his forever-present scowl is your late husband's. You supposed that should have been the first sign: Megumi would be anything but normal.

You hadn't told him about the visits. You're his parent, you had justified to yourself. He's a child. He doesn't need to know about the visits. Especially, considering you decided for him. Megumi would be raised out of the jujutsu world, away from curses, and sorcerers.

You can't have your son taken away from you like his father was.

('Special Grade', Gojo had told you. A powerful cursed spirit. You hadn't gotten closure until you let him in. No body was ever recovered.)

You can't let your son end up like that.

But was this the right life for him? You watch as Megumi's gaze trails up, like he's tracing the movement of a fly or something bigger that you would never see.

You can't relate to Megumi. You don't have cursed energy. You can't see the things he can. As much as you loved him, you'd never be able to understand what he is. None of his classmates can. None of his teachers. It sounds lonely. Isolating.

Only a handful of people that could ever give Megumi that connection exist. And they're willing to accept him with open arms.

He had been an older man, flanked by another. They eyed your home with relative disgust; you, with mild derision. It'd been their words that echo in your head today. How much happier Megumi would be surrounded by his own kind. How the clan would welcome him and teach him to hone his technique.

They were words that would sate the parent of a lonely boy, but you couldn't help but remember the disregard in his voice. Their words made Megumi sound like a tool, instead of a child.

The offer of payment for your son was enough to turn them away.

Was Gojo Satoru any better? From your brief encounter, you couldn't tell. There was always a smile on his lips whenever he talked about Megumi's future and Jujutsu Tech. The lilt of his voice felt fake, artificial. But at least he didn't ask to outright buy your son.

When Megumi's tucked into bed, you pace around the living room. You glance at the slip of paper he'd left behind. The scrawl of numbers in neat handwriting. The thing he slipped into your unsuspecting hand. You've had a glass of wine before, maybe that's why your hands are a little more steady when you punch in the numbers.

He picks up after the second ring. It oddly feels like he was waiting for your call.

"Can jujutsu sorcerers live normal lives?"

There's a laugh on the other end. Light. Amused.

"No," his response is cold, even when his tone isn't, "Even if they leave the jujutsu world, they will never have normal lives."

The answer you were afraid of, but you weren't surprised. Special people rarely live normal lives. You knew what this meant: trying to protect Megumi from his father's fate would be pointless. No matter how far you run, no matter how far you take him, it will never be enough.

"Does it really matter, then?" you ask, "who Megumi goes with."

"In that sense, no, not really," his voice crackles back, "But I think you've already made your decision."

You had days ago. You were just wasting time, picking up the phone only to drop it just as quickly. As much as you'd wanted to keep your son away from the jujutsu world, you knew, even before they knocked on your door, it was a failed endeavor. Megumi was special. Megumi was too special for you to hide. He shone too brightly.

The Zenin clan would extinguish that. You knew it. Toji knew it too. It's why he took on your name.

It's silent again. You bite your lip. You've been doing that a lot lately.

"Gojo, may I ask a favor?" He gives a hum.

"Please, don't tell him about Toji."

There's a beat of silence. The line clicks.

Two days later, Megumi meets the strongest sorcerer of the modern era.

☔︎

There was always something clinical about Megumi's and Gojo's relationship.

You wouldn't call them father-son, let alone brotherly. It was strictly student and teacher. From the start, it was clear Megumi wasn't impressed with the sorcerer. His scowl would somehow get deeper whenever the young man was around.

Gojo didn't seem all that impressed either. He wasn't as blatant, but you could sense that it was a chore for him, rather than anything else. You don't think you can blame him. He's barely twenty. He should be doing other things. Living his youth, and continuing his education.

Gojo grew up too fast. You can see it in his face. He's never not smiling, but it's never truly sincere. It's not clinical either. It looks exhausted. You wonder-if he wasn't wearing those glasses all the time-if you'd see dark circles.

He's too young to be running around this much. He's too young to carry the entire world of jujutsu sorcery on his back. He's too young to be an educator. A mentor.

Yet he is. Yet he does. All with a smile on his face.

You're less intense nowadays to him. When Megumi comes home, clearly a bit more roughed up than when he left, you criticize Gojo less harshly. When you make lunch for Megumi, you ask if he'd like anything as well. Gojo has a bigger sweet tooth than your eight-year-old son does. You never nag him for it.

The change doesn't fully happen until that fateful conversation. It's an offhanded remark he makes about him not being there to train Megumi for a few weeks because of a mission.

"A curse?" you ask, as if they aren't all around you.

Gojo grins because you've discovered he likes talking. "Reports are coming down from Sendai. The running bet currently is special grade."

You frown. "Oh. Well, be careful."

He freezes at that. You think he's staring at you, but you're not too sure. His glasses give away nothing. Your fingers dance with nerves. Had you said something wrong?

"What?"

You tilt your head. "Oh! Uh, 'be careful'. Stay safe." You end your sentence awkwardly.

Eventually, Gojo recovers. "Yeah. Well, obviously." He smiles.

You watch him leave, keeping your eye on him until he disappears into the sleek black car.

It doesn't occur to you until much later that Gojo probably hasn't had someone worry about him before.

☔︎︎

Whenever Megumi's training continues much later in the evenings, you go to the Gojo estate to pick him up yourself.

It's a grand house. Practically a mansion. You've never felt so embarrassed about your humble apartment until you saw the lavishness Satoru lived in. A part of you is now even more impressed by Megumi's stubbornness. Children are the first to fall for the affluent.

It's big, but you've never quite gotten over how empty it looks. Every time you visit, there's always just Satoru. You haven't seen his mom, his dad, any siblings. It looks like a family home, but he's the only one who's ever there.

He's never mentioned any family. You wonder what happened to them. Where they are now.

Somedays, you arrive a bit earlier than needed. During that time, you tend to stroll through the gardens. They're so beautiful. Large and expansive. They're empty, however, just like that grand house. No flowers. Not even weeds. It's just a bunch of dirt and stones, plainly stacked on top of each other. It disappoints you a bit. The grounds had so much potential.

"Whatcha' got for me this time?" You jump, whirling around. Satoru is right behind you, a teasing grin on his face.

You give him a disapproving look, though it lacks any real heat. "I told you to stop doing that."

"Doing what?" Though he may be twenty, he acts like he's younger than your son. Speaking of your child:

"Where's Megumi?" You prod, glancing behind Satoru, as though your grumpy child would pop up behind him. No such thing happens. Satoru's incriminating smile grows wider.

"Homework," he cryptically replies, "also, he didn't want to disturb us adults having our grown-up conversations."

"Of course he did," is all you say, but you acquiesce regardless, digging through your bag.

You've always been taught to bring something when visiting another person's home. You found it rude not to, despite how casual Satoru acts around you. You discovered he liked sweets the most, so you have tried your best to satisfy his sweet tooth. He seems happy with whatever you give him. One thing you like about Satoru is how he cherishes all the gifts he's received from you without any complaint. You spotted the umbrella you'd given him all those weeks ago, sitting right by the door. He'd never given it back. You'd never asked for it.

You try to ignore the feeling that the only reason he gets excited about your gifts is that it's rare for him to receive anything at all. Satoru doesn't need to be pitied.

It's nothing too big, just a bag of saltwater taffy from an Americanized store. He's already ripping the package open, pulling one out of the wrapper to stick it in his mouth.

You blink when he extends his hand, another piece of candy between his fingers.

"Say 'ah'!"

"Oh no, I'm fine. They're for you—" Satoru interrupts you by popping the piece right in your mouth. Your lips instinctively close.

"Oh." You say after you taste the sweet. "Peppermint."

He laughs, taking another one out for himself. You follow him through the abandoned gardens.

"So, how's Megumi's-"

"Nuh-uh," Satoru immediately stops you, "enough about work. Let's talk about something else!"

You roll your eyes, but your smile is too affectionate. You ask him about his latest trip overseas. He tells you about the country he visited, the curse he exorcised, practically giddy from excitement. Conversation starts there before moving onto other things, small talk, your job.

"It's a shame the gardens are so empty," you say when the conversation reaches a lull.

He stares at the bare patches of dirt with you. "When I was younger, the gardeners would take care of 'em for us. Flowers would bloom every spring."

You feel him recoil. Satoru does that sometimes. Say something too intimate, hissing when it's too late to take them back. For his sake, you don't comment on it.

"It must have looked beautiful." Is all you respond. Understanding, but closed enough to give him relief.

You stand there in silence for a couple of seconds. In the dirt, you can see a tiny ant carrying a grain of sand.

"Roleplay time!" Satoru suddenly exclaims. You whirl your head to look at him. "Imagine you become the great Gojo Satoru." You stifle a laugh at that. His grin only gets wider. "What kind of flowers would you choose?"

Toji always thought bouquets were stupid. 'There's no point' he'd always say 'the weeds will just die anyway, why you somethin' like that?'. But sometimes, he'd bring home these tiny, golden flowers. Simple. Pretty. He'd tuck it behind your ear, grinning at his work. You'd kiss him in return.

"Marigolds," you say at last.

Satoru only hums in response. A few seconds later, he's leading you out of the garden, rambling about how expensive sushi was overseas.

A few days later, you see men with barrels of soil, combing through the garden.

A week after, tiny golden flowers start poking through the dirt. Simple. Pretty.

☔︎︎

You had that same dream again. The day Toji left.

It's rare to have these dreams. They wouldn't leave you alone the first year he'd disappeared. Back when you thought he'd gotten bored of you and your son, like he'd finally decided he was sick of the family life.

They come back sporadically, nowadays. You can't sleep after you have them, so you often find yourself curled up in the living room, looking at the window. It was raining. Heavy droplets thud on the glass. The violence seems desperate somehow. Like the weather is begging to be let in, to snuggle underneath the warm blankets too.

On nights like this, it's a habit to stare at the tiny golden band on your finger. You slip it off, holding it in your palm. It's nothing extravagant—tiny with a simple design—but it's the last thing you have of him. Toji was never that sentimental.

It's not really a dream. Dreams are more whimsical, cloudy. You can remember everything, down to the outfit he'd been wearing, the fly that had been buzzing around your door. It was like you were there all over again, begging him not to go.

"You promised you'd stop."

"This is different," Toji said and you flinched when he tucks away his gun. You thought he'd gotten rid of it.

"The money?" You're pressing, "we have enough money, you-"

"This isn't about fuckin' cash," his voice cuts through you, sharper than any blade he carried.

"It's somethin' else. Somethin' you wouldn't understand. It goes beyond money."

Your gaze lowers, curling your fists on the table. You can't understand, not when he refuses to tell you. Not when he barely explains why he's going back to his old ways in the first place.

Sensing he's upset you, Toji sighs. You can hear him place something down on the dining table, metallic and clanky. Calloused, rough fingers brush your cheek, your jaw, coaxing you to look at him. You don't, forcing him to lean forward, giving a chaste kiss on your cheek. His lips are rough, cracked, but overwhelmingly gentle on your skin.

"I love you," Toji mutters into your skin.

You don't respond. You wish you had, you wish you'd gotten over your pride and told him because maybe then he'd still be here with you. He's giving another sigh, tucking your hair into place before he's leaving. He closes the door behind him.

That day, you told yourself you wouldn't forgive him. Whenever he came back, you'd tell him you were done. You'd take Megumi and you'd leave.

Now, you think you would have forgiven him. Eventually. It would have taken a while, a lot more than measly flowers and apologies. But, if he had come back, you would have let him back into your heart.

"Couldn't sleep?" you ask.

Megumi blinks his eyes. It's past his bedtime, but you aren't going to nag him for it. You place the cup of steaming tea down on the coffee table, clicking your tongue when it wobbles. Right, four years later and you still hadn't fixed it,

"The rain was too loud." He gives.

Wordlessly, you invite him into the cocoon you'd nestled yourself into. The sofa sinks under his weight as he settles next to you, leaning against your side. You tuck the warm blanket around his tiny body. He's still small enough to fully wrap your arm around him, bringing him even closer. You take advantage of it. You don't know how much time you have until he's too big to cuddle with anymore.

His breaths are even and slow. He's a boy of few words, but even you think he's asleep until he's mumbling something into your ear.

"I hate him."

You give a confused hum, leaning down, resting your head on top of his. The coffee table looks even more uneven at this angle. It burns to even look at, these days.

"He makes you cry, even when he's not around anymore."

You laugh at that. It's a quiet huff. When you glance down, you think you spot a faint smile on the boy's lips. He’s so much like his fathers, in the little things. You don’t think you will ever tell Megumi that. You don’t think he’ll take that observation well.

"I wasn't crying.” You tell him. “I was just thinking.”

He doesn't give a response after that. A few minutes later when you look down again, his eyes are closed, and he's drooling against your shoulder. You laugh again before gently gathering your son in your arms and settling him down to bed.

The next day, you notice the monstrous amount of duct tape wrapped around the leg of the coffee table. When you ask Megumi about it, he just shrugs, his ears twinging a bright red.

You throw the coffee table away. It's replaced by a new one the following week.

☔︎︎

Satoru didn't like talking about Toji.

You only tried prying once or twice. He was tight-lipped about it. Not quite cold, but he'd shut the conversation down quickly, more than eager to talk about something else. You missed it the first few times, but it became clear that Satoru disdained even the mention of your late husband. You can't tell if it's whether Satoru admired Toji enough that the mere mention of his name sends him into grief, or if it's something a lot more complicated.

Now that you think of it, you barely even knew the relationship Gojo had with Toji. Had they been close? Was he just an acquaintance? Satoru had always been so cryptic about it.

Toji hadn't.

"He's called the strongest man?" you ask, amusement twinged in your voice, "I thought he was 12."

"They don't care about age when giving titles," Toji replied.

You were leaning onto his shoulder, watching your son sleep in his crib. Only three months old and he had this permanent frown on his face, as if he was already sick of the world. 'He already acts like you' you once told your husband. He'd scoffed, but he didn't disagree.

"That's a little funny," you find yourself saying. "What, can he lift a car? Does he benchpress 200?"

Toji doesn't find the image of a child casually lifting 150lb weights as funny. He only grunts, drawing you closer.

"I met him once," he says after a beat of silence, "back when he was barely older than a toddler."

"Hm?" you prodded, still mesmerized by a sleeping Megumi, "what'd you think?"

"Power," Toji responds, "more power than I'd ever have."

You tear your gaze away from your son, glancing at your husband. Toji's eyes were looking somewhere, farther than you could see. It's the envy in his voice that you can't help but keep. A mere child already has everything Toji could ever want. Strength, a name, honor.

You should have realized then that Toji would never belong to you. Not truly. His heart, whether or not he swore up and down otherwise, would always belong to the Jujujtsu world. It's a tragedy. Someplace that he always longed for acceptance, will never truly see him. Even when he died for it.

Satoru will probably never answer your questions about Toji, but perhaps you could get close.

"Why did you do it?"

It was after dinner. Satoru had dropped your son off, and you had practically dragged the white-haired man inside with you, sitting him down on the dining table. He'd complained, but you know he secretly liked being coddled. He didn't deny the second helpings, nor the thirds. Sometimes you wondered if he was a man or a black hole.

Megumi had already gone to bed, and you supposed he had enough of Satoru for one day. It left you and him in the kitchen, putting away the dishes. Rather, you put away the dishes, and Satoru watched. Not that you minded. It was nice to have company.

"Hm?" He was typing away at his phone, blearily turning back to look at you. You couldn't get why he didn't just go home if he was so uninterested.

"Why did you interfere when the Zenin came?" You repeat your question, putting the last of the plates in the dishwasher.

Looking back, things could have gone much differently for you. For your son. You didn't realize how much power the Zenin clan had back then. Had Satoru not stepped in, had you kept rejecting them, you honestly wonder what sorts of drastic measures men like them would take for the sake of power.

"Are you upset?" He asks, tilting his head.

"Of course not." You smile. You were grateful for Satoru, you always have been. He's helped your family out in more ways than you could imagine. After all he's helped Megumi with, there was nothing Satoru could do to get you mad at him, hate him, not truly.

"I was just wondering. It's not like you had an obligation to."

You close the dishwasher with a soft click. The machine starts with a soft hum. He doesn't reply, not for a long while, when you look up, you see him staring back at you. His sunglasses were off, folded, tucked under his collar.

"Clans are bullshit." You're surprised by the venom in his voice. There's a cinch in his jaw. You wonder how many years his hatred has been festering like this.

"The entire Jujujstu world is, honestly. But clans are the worst of all. The hierarchy. Traditions. All dogshit. They'd gobble the kid and spit him back out. I-I didn't want him-" He stops with a hiss, like he'd said too much.

This time, you don't let him run away.

"...you didn't want him to end up like you." You finish.

It clicks, fits together like a jigsaw piece. The Gojo name had ruined Satoru, turned him into something he was too young to be. The name forced him to grow up faster, stronger. The name forced him to be isolated, lonely.

That conversation with Toji curls up inside of you. Back then, you'd only empathized with Toji's pain, but what about Satoru's pain? What about the amount of expectations that had been piled on top of a 12-year-old boy? What about the responsibilities he's forced to carry, each weight growing heavier and heavier but he can't break because he is Gojo?

Satoru stands before you, but you can easily picture him as Megumi. Tiny, small Megumi who didn't speak much but whose heart was bigger than anyone you knew. He could end up like Satoru. Standing at the top of the mountain. All powerful. All alone.

You don't want Megumi to be alone.

You don't want Satoru to be alone.

"Satoru." You step forward. "Could...could I give you a hug?"

He doesn't respond. You step closer. No barrier.

When you wrap your arms around him, you think you can feel him tremble. It takes a moment for him to catch up, for his arms to drape across your back. You clutch onto him tighter, silently promising not to let go until he does.

He doesn't, not for a long while.

☔︎︎

Satoru had a mission on his twenty-second birthday. So, you celebrate five days after he turns twenty-two.

"Again," you say for the nth time, "If-if you have other plans, or anything else, I don't have to stay-"��

"Will you stop it, already," Satoru interrupts, "You're gonna make me depressed. I already told you, I got no other plans."

"Well," you frown, "if you change your mind, and you'd rather spend time with your friends..."

"What other friends? You're the only one I got."

You frown at that. He smiles, barely lingering on his loneliness. He does that a lot lately, brush it off. Perhaps it's become easier to. Perhaps it's because you're here now.

The sun had already set on the Gojo estate. The stars were already out. Typically, you would have been antsy staying too late over, especially when Megumi was still home, but your son was a few cities over. He was training with another sorcerer, his new mentor stating that your son wouldn't be back for a couple more days.

Wait, now that you think of it.

"Satoru," you say, your voice heavy with disapproval, "Did you send Megumi off purely because it was your birthday?”

He grins wider, showing off his pearly whites. "No idea what you’re talking about."

You frown harder. He clicks his tongue in distaste.

"It's not like the kid would wanna come celebrate anyway, and now you can focus on me! Two birds one stone." He flops on the couch.

"Satoru."

"Cake! Cake! Cake! Cake!" Satoru chants, as if that'll distract you.

Unfortunately, it does. You roll your eyes, but you lean down, pulling out the pastry out of the bag. It's nothing special, and you do not consider yourself an expert in baking. It certainly isn't fancy, but you were still a little proud. Simple, a small chocolate cake, perfect for two.

Satoru stares.

"I know it isn't much-"

"I love it," he says and you can't tell if he's joking or not, "I'm gonna make it a family heirloom."

You laugh at that. It shakes your shoulders.

"I don't think cakes are built to last that long. How about you just eat it, instead."

"Much better plan," Satoru responds, grabbing a fork, eager to dig in.

He yelps when you slap his hand away as you give him a stern look. You touched his skin. You try not to linger at that, at the fact that he let you touch him.

"Not now," you say, but you still smile, "you need to blow out the candles first."

He huffs but doesn't protest when you stick two candles into the soft frosting. It takes a while to work the old lighter; you have to shoo him away when he tries to snatch it from you. You force Satoru to sit there for at least a minute as you sing the dreadful happy birthday song. He doesn't seem to mind, a mean grin growing on his face, letting you finish up the lyrics.

Toji was mortified every time you managed to stick a birthday hat onto him, dragging him to the living room for his cake. He'd hold his infant son in his arms, his frown even less amused. Even then, he never interrupted the stupid tradition you put him through. He'd sit through the entire ceremony, Megumi asleep on his chest. A scowl would twitch on his lips whenever you managed to smear a dab of frosting on his nose.

You clap when Satoru blows out the candles.

"What did you wish for?" You ask minutes later, swallowing down a bite of frosting. He was already on his third piece. You know you should tell him to slow down but you don't think it will do much.

"If I tell you, it won't come true," Satoru responds, his tone light.

"That's a myth," you point out, "but keep your secrets if you must."

You set your plate down when Satoru speaks the next time.

"I wished for us to do this again."

His voice is shallow, echoing throughout the empty house. You look at him, his white hair, his pink lips, his blue eyes. Everything that encompasses Gojo Satoru is focused entirely on you.

"That next year, we'll celebrate the exact same way."

He sounded so small, as though he were younger than 22. Perhaps, a part of him was. A gentle smile spreads on your face.

"Of course we will," you assure, before your voice gets teasing, "the next year, the year after that, and the next year until you get sick of me." You laugh. He doesn't laugh back. It's silent again, the kind of quiet that's full and meaningful. Distantly, you hear a clock ticking somewhere. It's a nice night. Peaceful. God, you were so tired from all the stressing you did for the cake. Satoru wanted to watch a movie after the cake cutting, but you wonder if he'll forgive you if you fell asleep during the film. You were exhausted.

That's why it takes you a second to register his lips are on yours.

The kiss is soft, and patient. His mouth moves slowly against yours. You can taste the chocolate. It takes a second to understand what Satoru was doing that he wasn't Toji before your hands are moving, reaching up to his shoulders, keeping him there as you shy away, breaking the kiss. You two stay like that for a few more moments, still touching. You can hear your breath, feel your heartbeat. A little while later, he moves closer, intent on following your mouth, before your brain kicks in and you're shutting him down, standing up.

Satoru blinks up at you, the realization of rejection sinking into his eyes before you stumble over yourself to apologize because, dear god, you should have seen this coming.

"I'm so sorry, Satoru," your voice is coming out in clumps, "I never meant to... I always thought...I'm a decade older than you."

The ocean eyes crystalize, turning into cold tanzanite. You're too muddled with guilt and self-hatred to notice. Of course, Satoru would take things the wrong way. Of course, he'd misunderstand. You always thought he was wise for his age, but he's still in his early twenties. You should have been better and made your boundaries known. God, you were so stupid.

"So?" he asks, but his voice lacks the usual snark. "Who cares how old you are?"

You resist the urge to say something accidentally condescending. 'You'll understand when you're older' stings in the back of your tongue, and you wonder if it's fair to say considering how you acted when you were younger than Satoru-- when Toji was an older man who found you amusing enough for dinner and a warm bed.

It's different now. You were older, wiser. Toji had been a mistake. A mistake you miss every day.

"Of course, you don't," you say, and despite it all, a laugh fumbles out your throat. Shaky, delirious. "Again, I'm so sorry. It's entirely my fault-I-I should have communicated things better."

"Why does any of that matter?." It's his turn to stand up, and it makes everything so much worse because Satoru's taller than you. "It doesn't, not to me. I lo-"

"Stop."

It's not a yell, but it's the harshest tone you've ever used on him. Still, it's enough for his breath to falter, to give you a moment of reprieve because the only other person who said that to you and meant it died six years ago. You touch the cold metal of your ring. You twist it around your finger. When Satoru's eyes gaze down, following your movements, you force yourself to stop self-soothing.

The ticking of the clock starts back up again. You want to smash it.

"I should go."

You already know it's a bad idea. You shouldn't leave Satoru alone. You should stay, sort things out, mend his heart, but you're human. You want to run, sort yourself out first. You want to take the cowards' way out. Satoru doesn't stop you. You can't bear to look at him, not when it's so much to even be here. Your mind is already being thrown into disarray and you're barely remembering to grab your purse.

Your hands rest on the door when you pause. You don't bother turning around. You know he's already looking at you.

"Happy birthday, Satoru."

For some reason, you cry the entire ride home.

☔︎︎

Surprisingly, it's Megumi who asks about it.

It'd been a week since you'd last spoken to Satoru. Communication stills, and stops completely. It goes both ways, he doesn't randomly pop by anymore, scaring the daylights out of you. You no longer buy strange-sounding sweets because you know you won't be seeing him later. One week ago, Satoru was there. The next, he wasn't.

"Has he said sorry yet?"

You jolt up, staring at your son. Megumi is still glowering at the vegetables you'd put on his plate. At this point, you know he doesn't hate the food. He just always looks like that.

"What?"

"He obviously did something to you." He mutters. "Did he at least say sorry?"

No matter how uninterested your son always portrayed himself as, he was very observant. Of course, he would. As much as you loved Megumi, you wish he'd be just 10 percent less attentive.

You force yourself to laugh anyway. "Satoru didn't do anything." You assure. "What makes you say that?"

"The idiot's been sulking all week," Megumi responds, "everyone's been wondering what's up with him."

You give him a disapproving look, but you doubt it did anything. Instead, you glance down, mindlessly poking at your plate.

"Don't call him that," you say softly.

Megumi only shrugs. Despite everything, you still have this strange urge to defend Satoru, if only to save your own dignity of fighting with someone 10 years younger than you.

"Nothing happened. It-it was a misunderstanding, that's all." You hope your smile doesn't look uncertain. He's only ten, but he's already so perceptive. You don't think it's enough to convince him. Your smile drops. You roll your shoulders.

Another thing you should have seen coming. Of course, Megumi would notice. Despite how annoyed Megumi acts around him, there's still a sort of bond between the two boys. A connection between two sorcerers, something you will never have with your son. You were wrong about your initial assessment about their relationship. They were much closer than you thought. Satoru cared about Megumi, as did Megumi about Satoru. Your souring relationship with Satoru might break that. .

Your actions have consequences. To everyone, not just yourself.

"I'll talk to him soon about it, I promise." As if to placate him further, you reach over, patting his hair. He frowns deeper but doesn't make a move to shove you off.

To your chagrin, soon comes later that evening. Satoru breaks the ice first with a single text.

you free tomorrow

It's nothing like him. No emoticons. No exclamation marks. You say yes, regardless. The next evening, you step out of the taxi, thanking the driver before stepping onto the Gojo property.

It was raining, barely a drizzle, not enough to make you want to bring an umbrella. Still, the air was chilly, just enough so that you clutched the coat covering your body tighter. You carefully avoid the puddles adorning the sidewalk.

You agreed to come here, but it's hard to keep that in mind as you climb the patio steps. You stand in front of the door for an entire minute, counting each second, before you knock.

"Finally! Took you long enough."

It's hard to look at him. Already, your gaze threatens to waver. You force yourself not to wrap your arms around your sides. For once, you're glad he wears those sunglasses of his.

Satoru, on the other hand, barely looks affected by the encounter. He's dressed well, in a white collared shirt and black pants. He smiles cheerily, widening the door so you can step inside. You thank him when he wordlessly mentions for your coat.

Your eyes catch the living room, along with the coffee table. There'd been a half-eaten birthday cake the last time you'd been here. Now the table is completely clean. You wonder what Satoru had done with it. You hoped he threw it away because the thought of him sitting there, alone, finishing the pastry filled you with so much guilt you could almost feel sick.

"Did you see the weather just an hour ago?" He asks offhandedly, "thought the rain would smash through my windows, from how loud it was."

"Oh?" You ask genuinely because you honestly hadn't noticed anything regarding the weather. You'd been stressing about the reunion, mind too preoccupied to care about the skies.

"'hope the violets survived. I just planted 'em yesterday." He glances out the window as though he could see through the sheets of rain. You hum, already feeling out of place. The silence is only accompanied by the rain lightly patting on the windows.

"You still love him." When you don't answer right away, Satoru turns back. "That Zenin guy. You love him."

It catches you so off guard that you can't help but tell the truth. You nod once.

He's still smiling, but the air feels off somehow. Like you're passing unmarked territory. It's a silly thought, and you brush it off immediately. Despite how strained your relationship is currently, Satoru isn't dangerous. He never will be.

"Yeah," he responds, "I just don't get why, y'know?"

You try to smile, but it's like pulling teeth. "I-I don't see how-"

"It just doesn't make sense. You and him, I mean. You two are so different."

You couldn't argue with that. Toji and you were on opposite ends. He was from a world that you would never be able to reach, let alone touch. You were a regular woman. He was a man who fought curses on a regular basis. A man who died from it.

Satoru's laughing; it takes you a moment to realize you might have said some of that out loud.

"Right. Fuck I keep forgetting that's what I told you." Satoru leans against the counter. "A special grade killed Zenin."

"I mean, technically, I didn't lie, right? A special grade did kill him. A special grade sorcerer."

Your brain stops. You can only stare. Satoru reaches up, taking off his glasses, folding them before neatly placing them on the counter. His eyes were always so breathtaking; now they look empty. Soulness.

You laugh. It sounds delirious. "But-but you said you were one of the only special grade sorcerers around."

"Yeah." Satoru nods along.

"Satoru...you're not making any sense..."

"Really?" Satoru tilts his head. "What part of 'I killed your husband' is confusing for you?"

He continues at your silence. "I mean, it wasn't like it wasn't for a good reason. The guy shot a junior high girl for cash. Knowing him, he's probably done worse. If you're asking me, I did a good thing by killing him--oh." Satoru pauses at your expression: horrified, broken.

He's smiling. You think that's the worst part. It's the same smile he's always worn. Playful and mischievous.

"C'mon, you seriously didn't know what he was up to. I can't tell whether you're that stupid or if he was that good at hiding it."

You should have denied it. You should have said Toji would never do the heinous act Satoru just accused him off, but can you? Could you honestly say that? You knew Toji was in bad shit. You'd always known that. He told you about the gambling, the drugs, the money. After he married you, he promised he walked away from that life, he was walking away with you. One last job, he'd said. Just one last job and he was done forever.

Something that goes beyond money, Toji had said, something you would never understand.

You can hardly breathe, sinking against the wall behind you as you collapse onto the floor. Your hands are pressed against your mouth, muffling your sobs as your eyes are filled with tears. Every interaction you've ever had with Toji is flitting through your mind. You can feel the bile in your stomach, threatening to leave your lips, splatter across the floor.

Your husband was a murderer.

Your husband was a monster.

His fingers are cold as he firmly pushes your hands away from your face. You glance up. Satoru stares right back. His smile is gone, replaced by a frown. He squats before you, idly tracing his pointer figure around your cheeks, catching your falling tears.

"He took everything from me, y'know," he says, quiet, low enough that the rain almost drowns his voice, "in just a day, my entire life changed. Someone died. A person I thought would be by my side my entire life disappeared."

"But, I gotta' thank him. Without his help, I wouldn't have become stronger, and I wouldn't have you."

You suck in a breath at that, but Satoru isn't paying attention. His hand traces down to your neck, feeling the skin.

"I like to think that he gave me you as an apology of sorts. It's nice to think of it that way, right?"

You look at him, absolutely horrified at how casual he was being.

Your husband was a monster.

And he’d left you with another one.

Immediately, you slap his hands away.

"Stop." You say, a weak hiss, "don't-don't touch me. Never ever touch me-"

"Yeah," he interrupts, ignoring your wavering voice, "I didn't think you would jump into my arms after what I said, either. But, hey, a guy can dream, right?"

What? And before you can think, he's pressing his lips against yours.

It's not like his first kiss. Before, when it was soft and sweet and he barely pushed, like he was savoring you. This kiss was harsh. Filled with teeth and lust and endless greed. You can taste the inexperience, and the thought that this might be the second time Satoru’s ever kissed someone fills your head. The fight is almost pathetic as you sink into his hold, helpless to do anything but wilt until he's had enough of his fill. You push against his chest, but he only leaves on his terms.

You're both panting, but you're more frazzled. His lips are blushing pink, and there's a string of saliva that stretches before snapping apart. You can feel the way his hands are positioned on your hips. Disgust and self-hatred wells up within you.

"I meant what I said that day: I love you." You squeeze your eyes at his confession. "I mean, what's there not to love? You're sweet; you're hot."

His hands play with the hem of your shirt. You stiffen as you try to claw them off of you, but it doesn't help. You don't want to look, but you just can't help yourself. It's morbid curiosity. Looking at a car crash. Your eyes open and you stare at Satoru.

"But I think the thing I love about you the most is that you'll never hate me."

Two glowing blue eyes stare back at you. He looks ethereal like this. Even when he's kneeling, he's still taller than you. He's always been above you. Not just in height, you're slowly starting to realize.

You always thought Satoru hated his last name. You always thought he blamed his lineage for his loneliness, his isolation. He grew up too fast, forced to become something for the sake of others. It's why you tried so hard to treat him like an equal, as though he were another human.

When he leans in to kiss you again, you finally understand that Gojo never wanted to part from his last name. Why would he? It was always a part of him. It was your fault for trying to humanize and connect with him. You fought for years to see him as an equal that you neglected to ask if he even wanted to be on the same plane as you.

Perhaps, once he did. Back when candlelight illuminated his face. When chocolate was the only thing you could taste.

"You can't hate me." He smiles against your lips. "You feel too sorry for me."

"No matter what I do to you, you'll never hate me."

You start crying again. Satoru hushes you, wiping away your tears in a way that suggests he's not used to being soft and delicate. Yet, he's trying to be. Soon, his gentleness fades, and his impatience seeps in again. It's all too easy for Satoru to haul you to your feet. He was the strongest, after all. You struggle anyway because you're human and your heart is filled with foolish hope. He laughs at your meager attempts to push him away, and you feel that this is all a game for him. Maybe it always was.

"Satoru-Satoru," you're begging as he pulls you through his empty house, "you don't have to do this. Please just-"

"See? You still aren't getting it." Satoru sighs, like he's disappointed before he's tossing you in a room. You flail against the bed, your chest pressed against the cushions before he's flipping you onto your back. It's worse when he's hovering over you, both hands on either side of your head, caging you in.

"I'm not doing anything I don't want to do. I never have."

You expect Satoru to kiss you again, that disgusting display where he rips you apart with his teeth, consuming you whole. Instead his pretty blue eyes flit to your clenched hand. He snatches up your wrist, easily unfurling your hand.

You react too late, only reaching up to stop him when he’s done pulling the ring off your finger. Satoru barely gives it an unimpressed look before he’s tossing it aside. You can only stare in the direction of it, watching as the last thing you had of him drops into the darkness. There’s two metallic clinks before it’s rolling to a stop. And then, you hear nothing.

He lets out a breath, like he’s relieved, dipping his head into the crook of your neck.

“I was so sick of looking at that.” He mumbles into your skin, giving it a playful nip. “Parading that thing around in front of another man like that. It’s kinda’ rude, y'know?”

You give another sob when his hands dig underneath your shirt. He presses on the softness of your belly, burying his face deeper into your neck, inhaling your scent.

“Fuck, you smell so good.” He groans into your neck. You can feel something press against your thigh.

You know what he was planning on doing, he made it clear ever since he dug himself into your skin with fangs. But the evidence. The hands twitching up your shirt, groping and feeling. The bulge grinding against your thigh

You can’t fight him, you stopped trying. Instead, you clench your fists again, letting the last of your tears drip down your face, praying and praying that what Satoru said wasn’t true.

Satoru isn’t nice to your clothes. You don’t know why you thought he ever would be. When he’s done with feeling and not looking, he pushes your shirt up, letting it catch just over the swell of your chest. He’s pushing your bra down, leaning down to trace your skin with his hot, wet tongue.

You jolt at the contact. It’d been so long since you’ve last been touched. He’s barely done anything and yet you’re already so sensitive. Something between a gasp and a moan is pulled out of your lips when Satoru swirls his tongue around your nipple, before he takes it fully in his mouth.

He’s tasting you, savoring you in a way you’d only seen him do for his cherished candy. He’s messy with it too, drool and spit spilling onto your skin, making you feel even colder than you already were.

Satoru has never stopped with just one candy, has he? He’s greedy, popping another and another in his mouth until the bag is all empty. It’s his natural essence to take until there’s nothing left. That’s why his hand trails down to your skirt, pushing it down before you can even decipher what he wants next from you.

You gasp when his hand presses against your panties, pushing them between your folds. The fabric lightly brushes against your clit, not enough for you to have any kind of relief. Still, a tingle jolts up your back.

“You’re soaked!” Satoru’s exclaiming. His voice comes out in the form of a laugh, light and innocent. It hurts to hear him sound like that. You have no more tears to cry again.

You want to tell him that it wasn’t you, that you don’t want him, that it’s just your body, but you doubt he cares about any of that. He pushes your panties down, letting them sit against your thighs before he’s pushing a finger deep into your wet pussy.

You can’t stop the noises this time. It’s more of a yelp than a moan, but Satoru takes it in stride as he continues to finger fuck you. When he digs a second finger into your hole, there’s a wet squelch of a sound. You have to turn away, but you can feel his smile against your skin. Victorious.

His other hands comes, pushing in between your breasts to keep you on the bed as he plants butterfly kisses down your ribs, your stomach, your hips, all the way down until he’s practically on his knees.

You were right to assume his inexperience. He’s sloppy, spreading his saliva and your wetness all over your pussy. There’s no rhythm, no clear pattern as he’s trying everything at once--swirling his tongue around your sensitive clit before licking his way into your hole.

And yet, it’s working. Your battered cunt responds to his enthusiasm, and your walls squeeze his fingers.

You can’t stop your noises. You don’t think he’s trying to stop his. His voice is muffled by your pussy, but he’s moaning and groaning so loudly. You think he’s saying something, but you can hear anything over the wet sounds of your cunt, the throbbing between your ears.

Your orgasm was inevitable, but you’re still surprised when it hits. Ramming into you like a train. Your back arches, and your thighs are involuntarily squeezing Satoru’s head. Keeping him there.

There’s a hum of satisfaction coming from him, but he doesn’t pull away. He folds your thighs, pushing them up into your chest so he can get more access to your pussy, sucking even harder on your clit. You were so far out of it that you can barely remember that this isn’t for you. It’s all for him. Satoru is greedy. It’s his natural essence to take and take until you’re nothing more than an empty bag, once filled with something sweet.

He doesn’t stop until you’ve come around his fingers and tongue a second time, when your cries are on the brink of overstimulation. When Satoru finally pulls away, the bottom half of his face is shiny. He keeps his eyes on you, messily wiping the remnants of you off his face before his leaning forward to kiss you, letting you taste yourself.

Unlike you, he doesn’t bother undressing himself. He’s unraveling his belt from his waist, pushing his pants down enough that he’s able to untuck his cock from his briefs. He’s already hard, giving his dick two cursory pumps before he’s settling his on either side of your body, keeping you there.

He’s big. Big enough that you worry he might actually succeed in breaking you. A semblance of rebellion, motivated by fear than anything else, stirs inside you. You push yourself up, elbows pressing against the mattress before he’s ending it.

There’s a grin, a flash of teeth, before he’s roughly pushing you down again.

“Satoru-“You start, you beg.

“Shut it,” he says, his smile too dangerous to be friendly, “if it isn’t begging me to fuck you, then I don’t wanna hear it.”

As though he’s taking the sight in himself, he hovers over you. The light from the window gently caresses his face in an angel kiss. His white hair is almost like halo, swathing him in an innocent shade of beauty.

When Satoru sinks his cock deep inside of you, you wonder if he’s defiling you or himself.

Just like before, he doesn’t bother letting you acclimate. He doesn’t wait, he doesn’t hold off. You can’t expect him too. Your pussy is squeezing him, edging him on. How could you expect him to not take it as a challenge and fuck you the way he’s dying to?

It’s exactly what he does as he bullies his cock deep inside your walls again and again. He whimpers, high and pitchy before he’s leaning down to bite and lick at your neck, your chest, leaving your skin with marks and bruises that will last for days.

Satoru loses his sharpness the more he’s inside of you. You cry when he leans down, circling his thumb across your clit.

“So good,” he’s mumbling into your sweaty skin, like a mantra, “so good so good. You’re so good. I love you I love you I love you-“

It’s torture to hear him say that over and over again and a part of you tries to force yourself to think of someone else to give you comfort. Scarred lips. Thick black hair.

You can’t.

Satoru has taken away everything, even your dreams.

There’s another gasp before he’s harshly gripping on your chin, forcing you to look at him. His eyes are blown open, wide and manic.

“Say my name,” he’s begging but his grip is too tight to be anything but an order, “I-I need you to-fuck-say my name.”

“Sa-Satoru.” He lurches at that, almost collapsing into your chest.

“Again.”

“Satoru,” and then you say it again and again and again because your brain’s too muddled to do anything but listen to him.

His thumb is moving faster and faster on you clit, his thrusts are getting sloppier.

“Gonna-gonna fill you up,” An alarm of panic ring as he’s blabbering, words stilted and strained, “I gotta’—I just gotta’, can’t think of ‘nothing else—fuck fuck.” He adjusts your legs, folding your body in half so he can push that much deeper inside of you.

He smiles again. Wild. Unhinged. The monsoon that is Gojo Satoru. If you won’t wash away with him, then he is more than happy to drown you in his rain.

“Fuck,” he curses again, his voice a mix of a laugh and a groan, “think the kid would like a younger sibling?”

You can barely process his words. You don’t think Satoru could process his either. His orgasm triggers your own, and you’re both tipping over the edge together. His cum fills your pulsing cunt, searing your insides with white heat.

Satoru collapses on top of you, pressing you into the mattress of expensive sheets. You two stay like that, just the sounds of your harsh breathing fills the room. Satoru gives a shaky kiss on your lips, just as sweet and chaste as the first time.

He stays there for another minute, before he’s pushing himself up again. You can’t understand what he’s doing until you realize he’s still hard inside of you.

“Satoru—” it’s a plea, your voice overwrought with exhaustion, “Don’t—"

“One more, ‘kay?” he slurs, pushing his cock as deep as it could get inside of you, “Just—Just one more.”

You wake up hours later. It's pitch-black, the lights are gone. Distantly, you can feel Satoru's hand curled around your waist. He'd fallen asleep with his head buried in your neck. You can feel his rhythmic breathing against your skin. Outside, the rain beats on the windows, and thunder rattles in the sky.

You wait for it—the anger, the hatred—for yourself to hate Gojo Satoru.

He was right. Nothing came.

#yandere jjk #yandere #yandere gojo satoru #dark content #dark jjk #dark gojo satoru #x reader #gojo satoru #afab reader #tw:noncon

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lunarw0rks · 11 months

Note

Hello! I just found your blog and I just started reading everything I saw 😅. Can I request 141 + König + Alejandro with a pregnant reader? They don't know yet and when the reader will break the news they are really stressed with work and end up taking it out on the reader, they end up getting into an argument and saying they hate the reader and that their life would be so much better without the reader in it (😈). The reader takes this seriously and leaves when they are asleep... Months later they meet again when the reader is on her way to the hospital to give birth (😈). Angst to fluff pls. If you don't feel good about writing or it's too big, that's fine. Have a nice day and thank you so much for all the time you spend writing to us.

The Things We Say // 141 Drabble

Summary: You're expecting, but it's not good news. To him, at least. Your relationship takes a hit, but once he meets your child, he's swallowed with regret for how he treated you.

Warning(s): angst to fluff, hurt/comfort, pregnancy, childbirth, mentions of premature birth/complications, mild injury/blood, strong language, established relationship, fem!Reader, no use of y/n

A/N: I was hurting my own feelings---but, there's fluff after the angst, so don't get too upset besties<3 Hope you don't mind anon, I took some creative liberty because I didn't want them all to have the same plotline. | Word Count: 5.9k

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ 141 MASTERLIST // have a request? ⋆ ⚘ 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ ao3 ver.

SYNOPSIS; he had been in the thick of it lately, sometimes more overwrought when at home with you than in active combat, it seemed. Conversations were either abrupt, crude, or nonexistent—often just building on top of the tension building between the two of you. Relationships were supposed to be fifty-fifty, but you felt you were carrying the burden of the whole percentage. That’s why the news couldn’t have come at a worse time—you, staring at the two lines instead of one. No matter how long you stared, double-checked the diagram, the answer was the same. Pregnant. So, now you knew two things for certain, you were expecting, and most heartbreaking—the other one responsible was at his worst. To break the news to him, it took every fiber of your being.

⋘ » ☆ « ⋙

AFTERMATH; nine months of hell. That’s how you would answer if someone asked. Few people did though, even at work or out on the street. There was the occasional boy or girl, how are you feeling. But they were being polite, or taking pity on the pregnant woman without a ring on her finger. The pregnant woman with bags under her eyes, the one who winces with each step because she’s ready to pop. None of it meant anything to you, because the other half of this responsibility had been left in the dark, and not for much longer. You weren’t raising this child alone, no matter how irate he was going to be when you contacted him.

Price

One of John’s many talents; stewing on his feelings, keeping them suppressed for an unnatural amount of time.

Often so long that he forgot about the source of his anger once he had time to catch up to them. That is… Until his work was involved. Then he was an entirely different man, often spending his time deep in a bottle and with a nose deep in paperwork, with little regard for anyone else around him.

His control, it was typically so consistent, that he knew not to bring his professional problems home. But lately? It’s been anything but typical. He wasn’t what you would call mean, but there was definitely a negative word to describe it. Cold? Apathetic? Perhaps even unwelcoming?

The bickering, if you could call it that, had droned on for several minutes now. Though, it was mostly you venting your frustrations to an uninterested Price. ❝I know it’s not good timing, John. Why the fuck do you think I’m in here trying to reason with you? Are we just supposed to ignore this until we can’t anymore?❞ You hissed, tempted to rip the paperwork from his grip to get him to pay attention.

He always wanted children, but not right now. Naturally, that’s when it happened. He felt like he was drowning, at first only professionally, but now personally too. The funds weren’t a problem, the kid had two parents, but… you and him—nothing was working.

❝Sweetheart, I’m in the thick of it right now. Please.❞ He didn’t need to raise his voice for you to see how irritated he was. Perhaps at the baby, you, himself, or all the above. ❝I have a meeting.❞ He stood up from his workspace, steaming coffee in hand.

John walked away from you like you were a pestering soldier, not the mother of his child. Enough was enough.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

He thought he was slick, only giving you physical checks to see your face, to ensure that you were indeed alright. It was often the coffee shop within equal walking distance of your two separate homes. John would always slide the amount you needed across the table, a look of remorse on his face. Each monthly meeting, your stomach would grow in size, as did your drained expression.

But you wouldn’t talk to him. You would only text him the amount, nod when he asked questions. It was the worst torture you could put a man like John through—one that needed the approval of his loved ones. It just couldn’t happen, not yet. The wounds of how he treated you, they were too fresh, even after nine months of this routine.

To be truthful, you debated on even calling him when you went into labor. You could do it alone, right? With just the support of the delivery nurses, and most of all your baby girl as the reward? Perhaps you could wait until after, give him the respect to at least meet his daughter. For someone not carrying a child, he looked just as beat; sunken eyes, less tidy facial hair than usual, and somehow even more tobacco on his breath.

John was clawing himself from the inside out, begging for something other than a “yes” or “no” from your lips.

—

❝I can’t do this,❞ you repeated it about fifty times, tears streaming down your cheeks from both the pain and the distraught feelings. That plan you had to not call him, it was falling through quite quickly. This level of agony? You needed someone other than a doctor. You needed the father, as much as it pained you to admit.

❝Yes, you can dear, women have babies everyday.❞ Bless the nurse, she was trying her best to keep you calm, but it didn’t work.

What if something went wrong? If somehow you didn’t make it but your baby girl did, she would be alone until he got here… That couldn’t, no—wouldn’t happen. He needed to be there, right beside this bed to hold her in case you couldn’t.

In between your pained grunts, you finally spit out what you’d been trying to tell her, finding a split second of sensibility during all this distress. ❝Call… John. Please, call him!❞

—

The doors swung open faster than any of the personnel, his gaze softening when he saw you breathing in a patterned fashion. The nurse beside you gave him a nod, freeing your hand for him to take her place. John wasn’t going to miss this, and frankly, he was irked that he almost did. But he wasn’t irked at you; he was irked at himself for taking this for granted.

His soothing voice talks you through each contraction, a soothing hand dabbing away the sweat and tears streaming down your face.

❝I got you, sweetheart. You’re almost done pushing.❞ Though he looked gruff on the outside, inside he was distraught. You had maintained the cold shoulder throughout the pregnancy, but you still called him here? You were more than he deserved in his eyes.

The last round of pushing, and they were close together now. You had about thirty seconds to say this, before you were screaming again.❝I’m glad you’re here.❞ Despite all the pain you were in, you gave his hand a squeeze, staring at him with a glossy expression.

His eyes nearly watered; the first sentence you had uttered to him in months, and it was clear you meant every bit of it. You needed him and so did your daughter, right here right now. He pressed a kiss to your temple, a soothing massaging your shoulder.

John kept his tone firm on purpose, to emphasize how deeply he cared for you right now. ❝I’ll always be here for you, love. Always.❞

Simon

Simon loved deep; hated even deeper.

It was one of the features that drew you to him in the first place, how blunt he could be, how his broodiness contrasted your personality in more ways than one. His cynical behavior could be humorous, could be reassuring, but most of all—bitter. To add stress to the equation, to bring it home? He was an explosive disaster waiting to happen.

❝Simon,❞ you approached from behind, holding the test in your hands, because you knew the first question he would ask when you told him; is if you took one. Well, if he wasn’t actively cursing under his breath, he would’ve.

Instead, he merely flicked his eyes over for a brief moment, as if you were a stranger on the street that said excuse me. ❝Simon.❞ Your tone grew firmer, clutching the stick with more apprehension.

❝Bloody Christ, what?❞ He shifted in his seat, bloodshot and hooded eyes that only twisted the knife further. You couldn’t tell him now, not with the pressure of being on the spot. The right words just wouldn’t come out, prompting you to put the stick behind your back. ❝Goddamn nuisance.❞ He muttered under his breath as if it was only supposed to be an internal thought.

Though, he didn’t look all that remorseful about it—at least on the outside.

He had never said anything like that before, at least not to your face. It seemed, all the weeks of tension and cold shoulder, it was enough. You were done and out the door the second he’d dozed.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Simon made a few futile attempts to reach out, but his own stubbornness prevented him from ever being face-to-face. He beat himself up so badly, and from his side of things—he’d only lost one person, not two.

It pained you to ask the delivery nurse to call him. You wanted to shove the crowning newborn right back inside and hold off, to go find him yourself and smack sense into him for putting you through this agony. But you couldn’t. Quite literally couldn’t get up, and didn’t want to. Resulting in pettiness and venom would make you worse than him because you would be using this child as a pawn.

He said nothing, but his eyes said enough. The nurses put a sterile drape over his shoulders, but he paid them no mind. His amber eyes remained on you; a bulging belly and an expression of pure agony. Had he missed something, a crucial chapter of your new life post-breakup? Most of all, why did you call him?

❝Hold my hand.❞ Simon found the side of your bed, allowing you to dig your fingernails into his forearm until there were imprints. He had few words, but the countenance of concern and guilt said it all. If this wasn’t his… you would’ve done this alone, or the father would be here. Then it dawned on him; it was his.

—

Hours passed, and he still hadn’t mentioned the obvious. Nine months without his support—financial or moral. You needed rest, as did the baby girl—so you were getting it, first and foremost. The adult matters would be better talked about when you weren’t still freshly recovering.

Simon tapped his foot against the tile, sitting in the chair beside the bed. He was unsure of who to keep an eye on more; the newborn swaddled in her own crib, or you, exhaustedly sleeping in your hospital bed. Though he’d held the girl, it felt forbidden, like he was only a placeholder until your body recovered enough to do it yourself. It was shock preventing him from feeling, not cruelty.

You stirred awake, a sigh of contempt when you laid eyes on him. The labor was a blur your mind had already shut out, and you truly didn’t recall the nurses contacting him. Your eyes were glossy with dark circles underneath them. ❝I’m…❞ It was like the night you tried to tell him but couldn’t, the words wouldn’t come out.

Simon saw that look in your eyes; the fear that he would explode, or storm out and leave you with the child forever—but he wasn’t. All the years of trying to not relieve the same mistakes his own father made, it would be useless if he did that. And he couldn’t, seeing that look of desperation on your face, how you looked as if you were going to burst into tears at the sight of him. That look, it was the same one that gnawed at him during those months apart, how he found you and your belongings gone.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. ❝Shh… Don’t apologize. Ever.❞ He was hovering now, a kiss pressed to your forehead. Whatever you decided when you were healed enough, he would take it like a man, because he had the audacity to speak to you like a man who wronged him.

Soap

Soap was… a complicated man to say the least. Usually, he was sweet, charming, with the right amount of cockiness. His ability to make you laugh drew you into him in the first place. But it was dwindling—at least during the past few weeks. Now, all that remained was smugness and bitter mutters under the breath.

❝Don’t be a child about this, we’ll figure it out,❞ He says, slamming his car door behind you. The first time you two had been out to dinner together in weeks, spoiled because you finally broke the news to him. You teared up in the restaurant because his reaction was anything but accepting, and frankly, he found it embarrassing.

He hadn’t meant it that way—that’s just how it came out.

He truly did want to figure this baby thing out, but it was the worst possible timing; an all-time high of stress at work, bickering with you constantly. And now, a third added to the dynamic with only months to prepare? It was too much. ❝Oh, I’m acting like a child?❞ You walked into the house, taking off the jewelry you had on to look nice for him.

The bickering that ensued—it was nothing nice, nothing you’d care to remember.

❝I don’t want you to go, lass. Don’t do this.❞ You had already made up your mind. Perhaps it was your emotions clouding your judgment, that instinct you felt being a few weeks along… It didn’t matter, you couldn’t be here. Not with him, not right now.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

You were about to pop, literally any day now. You knew that meant you would have to talk to the father, and interact with him for about eighteen years—at least be civil. But the rationality of it, how you would have to co-parent with him, didn’t ease your anxieties. Of course, he was adamant about checking up on you and being more of a parasite than the fetus taking half your energy.

You closed the car door with your hip, a slow waddle up the pavement. Where the hell your keys were, that was another story—something you would deal with once you rolled yourself up to the door.

❝What the hell are you doin’?❞ The voice nearly made you drop all the grocery bags in your grasp, a jumpy shriek coming out. When you whipped around, it was Soap, a look of upset on his very expressive face.

Once you started to recover from the scare of a lifetime, an unintentional one at that, a scowl formed on your face. It was like he had a sense of the absolute worst time to show up and annoy you, especially now that you were swollen and extra agitated. ❝A phone call would’ve worked, Johnny. Or, I don’t know, maybe a ‘hey I’m right behind you, lady’!❞ You attempted to mock his accent out of pure frustration, but he didn’t find the humor in it, at least not right away.

He yanked the bags out of your grip, stomping up the steps of your porch. ❝You shouldn’t be carryin’ these.❞ You really should not be doing that, he was right, but the thought of him being your grocery boy—showing up even more? ❝Keys.❞ He held out his free hand, the other one swimming in bags. It was ridiculous, apparently, you weren’t allowed to twist a key now, either.

You shove past him once he’s turned the key, squeezing past and joining him in the kitchen. Without a word, he starts putting away anything and everything you bought. Some are nutritious, others purely to feed your cravings. ❝Don’t start.❞ You pointed a finger at him when he picked up a family-sized bag of candy, a smart-ass comment daring to escape his lips.

❝God, I can’t believe you, Johnny. Sneaking up on me like that, I could’ve fallen.❞ You put an instinctive hand on your stomach, still irked by his presence.

❝No, you would’ve fallen carrying all those bags yourself. I have a right to be worried, it’s my bloody kid too.❞ He retorts, a hand on his hip. He’s done all he’s obligated to now; carrying and putting away your groceries.

You tighten your lips into a line, fighting the urge to start a full-blown argument. ❝Yeah, you remind me every day, so thanks for tha— Shit.❞ It seemed, raising your voice counted as exerting yourself because there was a sudden cramp in your stomach, a trickle down your pant leg.

Soap’s eyes widened, seeing you go from scolding him to hunched over and holding your stomach. You had forced yourself into labor, now standing on knees about to buckle. ❝I’ve got you, now get going woman, before I put you over my shoulder.❞ He felt he had never moved faster, a tight fist around your forearm to keep you standing as he led you through the door you had just walked in.

—

It seemed there was little time between being admitted to actively pushing. This kid wanted out, and right this second. You let out a shriek as the back of your head slammed against the pillow, sweat trickling down your brow as you cursed and wailed. ❝I know it hurts, love, but you got this.❞ He allowed you to clamp down on his hand, to dig your fingertips until they drew blood.

❝Oh, you know do you?!❞ You snapped at him, finding it hard to be nice when you felt like you were being ripped in half.

❝If I wasn’t,❞ you grunted in between words, face scrunched and labored breathing, ❝stuck in this damn bed, I would so… hurt you right now, Johnny.❞ He fought the urge to snicker just a little bit, masking it with his concern for you. Seeing you in agony, even when you were actively snapping at him, it didn’t please him one bit.

Well, you were arguing with him, so he knew you weren’t actively dying.

If you used enough of that anger, it would help you literally push through the pain, just like how it caused the kid to want to come out right this second. For once, his pestering and sarcasm were actually helping.

With one final wave of it, your back arched off the bed and finally, the loud cry of an infant filled the white-walled room. Soap nearly fainted, if he was being honest—he was awfully squeamish for someone who dealt with blood daily. But it was your blood and… fluids, things that made him shiver when he pictured how painful that could’ve been.

The doctors were speedy, cleaning off and checking vitals. All he could do was stare at the newborn—his baby boy. And then he looked at you, choked up and stared in awe at the baby set on your chest. ❝Jesus…❞ he leaned down, placing a gentle hand on yours as it held the child’s head.

All the fighting, all the bickering, even the late-night candy runs—they were well worth it. He had a second chance now, to make things right with you, and to be a decent father.

Gaz

Gaz could be hotheaded, sometimes downright blunt, especially when he’s passionate about something to do with his work. The night you were going to break the news, nothing was going right. He came home in a huff, not bothering to take off his boots before plopping on the sofa. Kyle had a right to be stressed; look at what he does all day. But he didn’t have a right to be cruel to you because of it.

You took a seat beside him and set the positive test down on his thigh. A silence followed by a scowl, and then he finally spoke. ❝You can’t be serious.❞ It nearly gutted you right then and there. His leg began to bounce anxiously the longer he glanced at the life-changing test results.

❝Kyle, I—❞ you weren’t even sure what you were trying to say either, not that he gave you a chance. ❝I don’t have time for this, babe. I really can’t do this right now.❞ He put his head in his hands, a flustered groan escaping his lips.

❝Are you saying you don’t want this? That we shouldn’t have done this?❞ You were suddenly standing, eyes wide and watering. You felt like you had just been dumped on the street, despite his unclear tone.

He peered up, lips in a blunt line. ❝Maybe we shouldn’t have.❞ You could’ve crawled into a hole and died right then and there, but you merely nodded. Nodded and then left the room, leaving him to his moodiness. No, it wasn’t the best timing, but that didn’t give him the right to brush you off, to treat you like a distasteful afterthought.

It wasn’t just you anymore, it was you and the baby.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

It was one of his few days off—though he wasn’t feeling much relaxation. You were still hot and cold with him, now about halfway through your third trimester; thirty-two weeks to be exact. It was nearing that point, where he had prepared a spare room for the baby, began coordinating plans for labor, etc…

But he still didn’t feel ready, or like he deserved you after how cruel he was that night. Kyle was only helping you to help you and the baby.

His phone buzzed, right when he had begun relaxing for the evening. 10:32 PM; and it was your number. The second he heard the voice of a nurse on the other line, not yours, his feet were halfway out the front door.

—

❝I’m fine, Kyle. I’m fine…❞ It seemed no matter how many times you repeated it, he didn’t seem to believe it. From the minute he entered your hospital room to now, he had at least one hand on you, a thumb grazing the cuts and bruises on your body. You had been in a car accident—mild for you, life-threatening for a preemie. ❝You’re not fine.❞ he said firmly, eyes darting towards your clothes bagged in the corner—bloodied and with windshield pieces still embedded.

Kyle was more worried about you at first, but you were solely concerned about your baby—left alone in the NICU being poked and prodded by personnel. You had to be induced, otherwise he wouldn’t have made it past the front doors. Now, he was too weak to be visited, too small and vulnerable to be held by his own mother yet. It was gut-wrenching; hours without a solid answer, because his chances depended solely on him making it through the night.

Now, there was nothing to do but wait, perhaps see your baby through a glass box if you got lucky.

—

❝He’s perfect,❞ Kyle peered down at the preemie in his hands, a baggy blue cap on his head. There were small babies, and he was somehow smaller. What once was the scare of a lifetime, it was now a passing memory to remind Gaz of what he could’ve lost. He would never make the mistake of talking to you like that again, even if the two events didn’t correlate.

What if the night you left, you got into an accident then, and it was much worse? He wouldn’t be able to live with himself, plain and simple. ❝It’s cheesy but, he does have your eyes.❞ You whispered from the nursing chair you were sitting in, still healing and fatigued from the ordeal. The picture in front of you; Kyle looking at your son with such love—it was irreplaceable and forever stuck in your memories.

❝Correct. But he has your scowl, babe.❞ Gaz flicked his eyes upwards, feeling you gently nudge his shin at the sound of the comment.

It didn’t matter the things he said months ago, as long as he cherished this new life with you as much as you planned to.

Alejandro

Alejandro always had passion for the things he cherished; you and his work, nothing else mattered more. Passion led to intense feelings, intense feelings turned into misplaced bitterness. It wasn’t your fault that you were expecting, no more than it was his, at least. He knew that and had he just taken a breath and thought more carefully about his phrasing, this whole mess could’ve been avoided.

❝Do you think I wanted to interrupt you, Alejandro?❞ You hissed, standing in the doorway of his office with the positive test in your hands. He had just looked at you with such distaste as if you were the root cause of his stress and not his work.

What better way to stir the pot, than to match his wrath? Well, it certainly did that, though seeing him rage was the last sight you wanted to see. Alejandro always had trouble with his anger, often finding himself with all these feelings he had no clue how to control.

❝You always do what you want!❞ There it was, him blowing his fuse. He’d thrown his hands in the air, face tightened into a scowl. He couldn’t leave it at that, either, not when his rage came in such intense waves. ❝You’ll do what you always do—bleed me dry!❞

You couldn’t speak, despite how vicious you felt only seconds before. It seemed too truthful for your liking like he had been waiting for an excuse to spill his guts. ❝As long as you have enough to amuse yourself, I’m nothing to you, right?❞ He wasn’t yelling anymore, but his mocking tone was enough to tear at your heartstrings.

Had he seriously played that card with you—the man always insistent on taking care of you, financially, physically, emotionally? Now, of all times? The argument ended with you slamming the front door behind you, something he would’ve done.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

You spent weeks ignoring him, and throughout the pregnancy, it was dry texts or brief calls. His only sign that you were even alive was the notification that you had used his account to purchase necessities. The irony of it made Alejandro nauseous, how awful he made it sound that you were doing what he told you to; to let him take care of you. The fact that you didn’t drain the funds, only bought what you needed, spoke volumes.

❝I’m not upset at you, amor—I wasn’t upset with you.❞

Alejandro reached a hand across the picnic table, a firm but loving grip on your forearm. You looked beat; hair a different length than before, exhausted eyes that were brimming with tears, and most of all a growing stomach. It was all his fault; the reason you didn’t want to face him like this, in fear that he would cut you and the baby off for good. Only, he was there to see your face, not for confrontation or another spat.

It didn’t matter what you said, if you screamed at him right now, or said nothing. Alejandro had made up his mind the night you left. ❝I’ll come to every appointment, parenting class, anything.❞

—

Of all the nights for you to be in labor, it had to be during a wicked storm. You had gone over to his house to make civil conversation over dinner, to at least attempt at repairing things. He had slaved over the stove, cooking his favorite for you. For most of the meal, things were… surprisingly tranquil; even romantic.

You were heavily pregnant, were you supposed to refuse a warm meal? Not a chance. You were too full, too swollen to get up out of the dining chair once the meal finished. And looking out the window? There was no way in hell Alejandro was going to let you drive home in this; droplets whipped down, trees and waste bins flew away from the force of it, and the rain was icy. Well, you were exhausted, and he had a bed he was willing to give up. Your back and feet practically sighed in relief when you laid back in his bed, the one you two once shared. It was a nice feeling, being there again and knowing Alejandro was trying his hardest to plead forgiveness.

About an hour into your much needed-slumber, you felt a pool in the sheets. Instinctually, you figured it was the fetus pressing on your bladder—a downright embarrassing thing you’d have to wake up and explain to him. But… it was clear it wasn’t that. You were in labor and stuck here.

The shriek you let out when you got a violent contraction; Alejandro dashed quicker than he ever did when dodging bullets. His fumbling fingers dialed 911, yanking the comforter off the bed to get a better view of your dilation. Fortunately, he was trained on how to deliver a baby when stranded, or in a country without medical support. But this was his baby and your life was in his hands. If he didn’t do this correctly, if something went wrong, he would never forgive himself.

The ambulance wouldn’t be there for an hour—you didn’t have an hour to spare, this baby was coming now. ❝You can do this, amor, we’re doing this together.❞ One hand clenched yours, the other kept an eye on the crowning baby. Just how you hadn’t woken up sooner, neither of you knew. Perhaps you had gotten so used to cramps and pains, that you thought it was just another sleepless night courtesy of the little one.

—

The moment your wails went silent as his baby girl finally came, Alejandro felt his heart drop. He had to make the worst decision; focusing on the newborn first. He wrapped her in one of his shirts, wiping the fluid and blood from her small face. As he cradled her, a quick hand fingered for a pulse, a loud sigh escaping his lips when he felt one. You had only passed out from the pain—probably doing you a service, considering he didn’t have the proper medication to numb your pain.

Your eyes fluttered open at the sound of the wailing child, still with gritted teeth. But your baby was there—and her lungs were very clearly working. Alejandro set her down on your chest, allowing you to hold your daughter for the first time. ❝You did so well, cariño. Look at her.❞ He was merely distracting you with the baby on your chest, to not divert your attention towards the state your body was in as he cleaned you up.

Somehow, he had pulled this off with both his girls safe, soon to be checked out properly at a hospital. When you first broke the news, he thought he knew the meaning of being so suddenly thrust into fatherhood, but that took on a whole new meaning after tonight.

König

There had once been a line he didn’t cross, but he did that night. König never yelled at you. He saved that stern side of him for his work because it was acceptable there. But in the weeks that his work had bled onto you, spoiling the relationship, his values seemed to loosen. Though he was a complicated man, a man uncertain of himself and his appearance, he maintained a hardness about him. Ruthless in the field and immensely protective of anyone that had come to love him.

You approached him as he worked, placing the test on the desk he was sitting at. ❝König, I need to tell you something.❞

With his head facing the paperwork, he merely shrugged at you. Until he saw what you’d placed there, his eyes going wide. But it wasn’t shock or excitement; it was disdain for the fact that this baby was just another interruption—you were just another interruption. ❝I have no time for this, Schatz, you know that.❞

He didn’t need to raise his voice for his words to sting, his bitter tone was more than enough. But he surely hadn’t meant it like that, right? He’d meant he didn’t have time for this right now… right?

❝Why don’t you go rest, then?❞ He asks, picking up the folder that he was reading previously. It wasn’t a request made out of concern, König was patronizing you. His glare was typically enough to make a soldier scramble, but you just stood there for a few seconds, biting back the urge to choke.

How you left that night, it wasn’t dramatic or emotional, it was dry. König tells you to think clearly about this, to sleep on it. But you couldn’t—and you weren’t going to be a verbal punching bag.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

König only called you weekly for appointment updates, or to let you know he had sent you a check. Other than that, words dripped with tension and the urge to say so much more. But you were too stubborn for your own good, and so was he. You were more concerned with hosting life than playing games with a father who treated you like a wimp.

He’d only seen you once, during the second trimester when he showed up at your apartment. You protested, but he showed up anyway, saying he needed “proof” that you and the fetus were safe. The voice on the phone wasn’t enough, in his eyes.

Of course, when you needed him most, screaming and keeling over in the kitchen, he wasn’t there. It was a neighbor that called an ambulance for you because they knew they had a pregnant tenant next door. In fact, it was such a close call, you nearly didn’t make it to the delivery room before the newborn came out wailing.

The only plus side? While the paramedics were deterring you from pushing, you’d sent a text—probably unintelligible—but a text, nonetheless. He knew your due date, how today was only a few days off, and he was in his car before he could grasp the severity of this new life stage.

—

❝I’m here, schätzchen. I’m not going to hurt you again, or him.❞ He hunched over the bed, eyes in a perpetual state of disbelief as he watched you soothe the whining newborn. Clarity hit him like a truck when he heard your screams during delivery, and then he was all in. Not that he had a choice, this was his doing too.

He had given you the financial support to get proper nutrition for you and the baby, to pay for the appointments, but that wasn’t enough—not in König’s eyes. He needed to snap out of his self-pity and be a support system. Whether you wanted to co-parent or work on repairing the relationship, you were not under any circumstances taking care of this newborn alone, at your apartment.

He placed a hand in your hair, threading his fingers through the strands. ❝We can clear out the spare room, hm? There’s more than enough room for the two of you.❞ He was already picturing it, how he was going to pull an all-nighter and get to work on the room, going to your apartment and moving the baby supplies from yours to his.

König didn’t need to state the obvious, that you weren’t bound to any type of relationship besides the one concerning the child. Whether you wanted to move out once the baby hit a certain age or not, he was going to keep an eye on the two of you.

Two of you, not just the newborn you were rocking. It was either both of you, or neither, and he was intent on it being the first option.

If you made it this far - THANK YOU!

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academiaviktor · 1 month

Text

[pining, returned affection, nsfw, penetration, cum kink?, mentions of belly bulge, boyfriend Choso]

[wc: 2k]

[Continuation of this post]

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

With anything unrelated to his brothers, Choso was mostly unbothered. Half the time, he didn’t know what he was doing or what he was supposed to be doing.

He only knew his younger brother Yuji was doing his best to acclimate him to normal human society.

He also knew that Yuji was his direct line to you.

The incredibly talented jujutsu sorcerer he introduced him to that one day. The day that altered his perception of everything.

That was the first time he had been bothered in a different way. A good way.

At least, he eventually came to realize it was good.

At first, his heart was beating so fast in his chest that it started to worry him. He wasn't sure what was happening, or why he was finding it hard to breathe just from looking at you. Just from receiving a warm smile from your lips.

Of course, Choso could feel human emotions. He typically felt only a slim few, and all had to do with his brothers. Otherwise, he was apathetic. Uncaring. He was a tool to be used, and a shield for his brothers.

But you? You made him feel everything at once in the most agonizing way. You seemed to offer him the complete human experience by uttering only a few pleasant words of greeting.

Afterward, Yuji gave Choso a similar shpiel to Fushiguro's—don't bother. She may be incredibly friendly and kind, but you'll never have her.

Choso never let those words sink into his skin. He was too stunned to even understand what was happening to him.

But after that day, his heart burned in a way it never had before. He just wanted to see you again. To hear you speak, even if he was too anxious to say anything back. He needed to be near you, and that urge became so strong, he found himself jumping at the chance to join Yuji and his friends whenever they went somewhere fun, all for the chance that you might be there.

Luckily, you typically were if you had the spare time. And god, Choso was getting more sick every time he saw you. At least, that was how it felt.

Boba shops, cafes, cinemas, carnivals, and everything in between, if you were there, so was he. If you were smiling and laughing, so was he.

Choso didn't know the first thing about love, and there was something about it that scared him.

But when your flirtations became more physical—the brush of your arm against his, linking together arm-in-arm to whisk him somewhere interesting, or when your fingers would just barely touch—Choso could feel himself crumbling.

That heart of his, once only warm for his brothers, was beginning to beat at a different rhythm. It was syncing up with yours, whether he knew it or not.

When it became too much, that was when he approached Yuji.

He did his best to hide how much his hands were trembling even while he spoke to his brother about you, and his throat felt impossibly dry.

"Hey...um, Yuji?"

Yuji hardly looked up from the movie he was fixated on. "Yeah?"

Choso swallowed back his apprehension, aware that he had no experience of his own, but his younger brother grew up with humans and their strange emotions. Surely he would understand.

"What does it mean when your heart beats strangely around someone, or if you get nervous around them?"

Yuji shrugged. "Usually that means you like them."

Choso furrowed his brows together. "Like them?"

"Mhm. You can like someone in a friendly way and be normal around them, but if you're not, then that means you like like them. You know?" Yuji explained, still watching the tv. "If you really like them, then you probably want to be near that person, or hold them or something."

Choso kind of understood what this like like was, but he didn't understand why it hurt. Why it burned and ached.

But he did know that feeling existed inside of him for you.

"I think I like y/n then."

Yuji went quiet for a moment, then he mumbled, "Are you sure?"

Choso scratched the back of his neck, feeling as warmth moved into his face. "I enjoy being around her, and as you said, I'd like to be near her more. I wouldn't mind holding her too. What should I do?"

He assumed Yuji was only considering the options, not completely breaking on the inside. He had no idea his younger brother was actively pushing back the urge to explode on him.

"...you should ask her how she feels..." Yuji began, forcing the words out. "And if you're serious, ask her out on a date."

Unaware of the nuances of these kinds of things, Choso came out with it one day when he couldn't handle it anymore. When you smiled that smile at him and reduced him to a sappy version of himself he was unfamiliar with.

"How do you feel?" He questioned, walking alongside you on an aimless stroll around campus. His heart was in his throat, and he felt like screaming from how nervous he was.

You let out a humored sound. "I feel okay, I guess? Thanks for asking, Cho."

Cho. That nickname you gave him always made his head go woozy.

So much so that he almost didn't realize you misunderstood his question.

"Er...I mean...maybe I remembered it wrong," he murmured to himself, trying to recall Yuji's advice. His skin was growing hotter as he tried to get it right in his head.

"You all right?" You asked, growing concerned as you took in his fluster.

Not walking anymore, and face to face, Choso found himself desperate for the right thing to say. He tried to wrack his brain, aware that he might not have that chance again.

Ask her out on a date.

Those words hit him, and Choso brightened with a sheepish smile.

"Would you like to go somewhere with me...on a date?"

Your smile eased the burning fear he had in his chest. "Sure, I'd love to. I'm free right now if you already have a place in mind."

Your acceptance was the first sign of hope he needed, and to his relief, the date went better than he expected. After that, multiple other one-on-one outings happened, and before long, Choso found himself uttering the words he never expected to leave his lips.

"I love you..." Choso heaved, gripping your hips as he bucked into you, watching as his cock slipped inside of you again and again. He watched how your arousal made a cute ring around him, and how you seemed to take him so well. So eagerly. "I-I love you...I love you..."

It left his mouth like a chant as he rammed into your soaked pussy, in lustful agony over how perfectly you squelched for him.

As much as you wanted to say it back, you were too far gone already. He made you cum twice already, and he was desperately chasing after another.

But he didn't mind how you couldn't say it. You were already fucked dumb by him, and he knew the way you clenched around his length said it all.

From in his lap while you gripped the couch with one hand and held yourself up with the other against his chest, skin already slick with sweat and warm to the touch, you looked ethereal to him. Head tipping back with a slack jaw, body angled so that he had a perfect view of your tits, the sight of you alone was enough to have him bordering his next orgasm.

"Fuck—" Choso groaned, gripping harder and relentlessly sending his throbbing cock back into you, hypnotized by your velvety walls. "You're perfect...fucking perfect..."

Your moans sent shivers right through him as he squeezed you tight, unable to choke back his whimpers and gasps for breath.

Choso was normally so well composed and visibly unaffected by most things, but every time he found himself inside you, he became insatiable. Whiny and stumbling over his words. You just felt so impossibly good around him, sucking him in and embracing his cock with pure love and adoration.

He knew you had him in a vulnerable position. He knew you had far too much power over him, but he didn't care.

Choso knew what it felt like to fuck you raw, and it was impossible for him to be without it.

"...C-Cho..." you barely managed to say, trying to hold on through his relentless thrusts. It was hard to believe you had been the one riding him initially. You had been the one fucking him until he couldn't take it anymore, and he needed to let that unwavering desperation out.

Fuck, you were too much. Too compliant with his movements. Too whimpery. Too fucking perfect.

"Jus' hold on, baby," Choso mumbled gruffly, using everything he had left to push you closer to the edge. "One more...please. Give me one more—"

He nearly choked at the feeling of your plush walls clenching around him, milking him for everything he had. Heaving in his frantic breaths, he dropped a thumb to trace messy circles against your clit.

"I'm s' full already..." you babbled, eyes closed as more pleasure swept through you while his thick girth stretched you so completely.

"I-I know," he stuttered, pulling you down to force his cock against your cervix, ramming again and again as he admired the slight bulge in your belly from him. "Jus' one more. Fuck, baby. I need to fill you again—need you to take it like a good girl..."

The mix of skin slapping and your broken moans filled the room, emphasized by the mess already between your bodies.

His cum was everywhere already, but god, Choso loved it. He loved how it glistened against your skin and how it sounded when he shoved his cock back into you, bringing it along for the ride.

It was a reminder of how much you affected him. How your perfect pussy could make him cum over and over again, and he'd still be aimlessly begging for another.

Watching your eyes roll back as your whole body convulsed through your next orgasm was always enough to make him crack. Watching the woman he loved reach that state of euphoria all because of him was all he needed to slam his hips into yours one last time as he struggled to breathe, gripping and clutching you for dear life.

Like the perfect woman you were, you'd take another bout of his cum. Still just as abundant and enthusiastic, he'd shoot his thick ropes inside you, only adding to the mess of sticky fluid between you.

Choso's head always lulled back whenever he came, so drunk off how incredible it all was to be edging blackout territory.

Full of his cum and too exhausted to keep yourself up, you slumped against him while you both caught your breath. Instinctually, Choso wrapped his arms around you, keeping you close so that he didn't have to miss a second without you.

"T-thank you, baby," Choso whispered, mustering just enough energy to run a lazy hand up and down your back.

He didn't know when it started, but it was an endearing thing he tended to do whenever you entertained his belligerent deviancy. Whenever he'd fuck you way past the point of overstimulation, and yet, you'd still let him fill you with another load.

In every way, you were perfect. Far too perfect for him.

But still, all the while he tried to bring himself back down again, he silently thanked his brother for introducing you two. For bringing the love of his life to him, and making it all possible.

#choso kamo #choso x reader #jjk choso #choso smut #jujutsu kaisen choso #kamo choso #choso/reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu sorcerer

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mysteriousl0ser · 2 months

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FUCK IT, TADC EP 2 THOUGHTS MAJOR SPOILERS!! BE WARNED

LETS GO!! Pomni is still pretty screwed up over her first day here, I mean this is all fresh and new to her so like DUH. everyone else here is somewhat or entirely adjusted and kind of just cope with the fact that theyre here I dont think pomni has really processed how long theyve been here?? In the pilot she seems SO bothered by how okay they are with this and willingness to do caines fuckass adventures

i dont blame her, anywho pomni in her nightmare-induced state starts to abstract, she had to face an abstraction early on in her days here which like have to be pretty truamatizing (duh) and cried out to ANYONE, but where she called for help literally no one helped her “oh well” they though

Pomni doesn't feel like anybody else cares, shes the only one whos still going through an adjustment phase and freaking the fuck out while everyone else is just going along with the adventure, something she still thinks is kinda pointless and doesn't get why anybody would waste their time here doing when they COULD be looking for a way out, why is she the only one who seems to still be distressed here? To feel lost? At least from her perspective, it seems that way. Unfortunately, these people have already been here for a while.

Pomski then meets someone whos just like her, their whole reality was shattered and they don't belong anywhere, mirroring how pomni feels at the moment, even if she still has some sort of grip now vs when she first got here

And she finds comfort in that!!! Why is it that this NPC feels more real than the ACTUAL REAL PEOPLE trapped here with her??? Whatever the reason, its something to hold onto. Something to LATCH onto. Hes Real. or at least he feels real, and maybe she feels like she belongs with him because at least he knows the feeling, something shes not really felt w anyone else before

This comfort and solidarity she has with gumigoo is shortlived however as she gets brutally reminded that he wasnt real. The anchor she had vanished and there's quite literally nobody to catch her fall.

And i feel like ragatha trying to comfort her the way she did didnt help AT ALL. it was kinda a sore reminder that gumigoo is easily replaceable, and GOD thats so frustrating?? This thing felt so real to her and nobody seems to care that he just vanished!! If they could be so apathetic to this whos to say they wont just treat her demise just the same as she thought they would???

But then something important happens. They have a funeral for Kaufmo, someone whos been established to be their friend way before Pomni ever came here. And maybe it didn't ever settle in before that kaufmo was a real person! Literally!! And he was real to them. Just like gumigoo though less directly they relate to being in pain and kind of in shock of losing someone who they cared about and who was a real person to care about to them AND LIKE YOU CAN SEE WHERE IT CLICKS IN HER FACIAL EXPRESSION HERE, THE CHANGE IN HER EYES AND THE WAY HER EXPRESSION LOSENS AT THIS IDK IT DRIVES ME CRAZY GOD THE ANIMATORS WENT OFF W THIS EP VS THE PILOT IM IM IM

anyways anyways They have their funeral service, theres quite literally no reason for anyone to just lie and go along with whatever bs caines got going on, this also quite literally has nothing to do with him. This is kind of their own little way of keeping some sort of human traditions and respect for the human persons that get stuck here because they care. HELL you can even see pomni feel a little guilty here when ragatha says that his funeral was disrupted cause she arrived here

anyways thats exactly it!! They fucking car!! This whole time pomni thought that they just didnt care and were kind of apathetic or downright patronizing her over all this and mocking her or whatnot, like in her dream sequence. But no, they all talk respectively about their memories and experiences with kaufmo, the things they shared together and the feelings they had. EVERYBODY was grieving. Ragatha who always tried to put on some cheerful and kind of irritating (to pomni at least) everythings fine facade (which also kind of feels less real to her at least i think so but i don't think she figured it to be a coping mechanism) to just straight up start crying and breaking up a bit, even mentioning how this does not ever get any easier and how shes had to deal with this plenty of times before.

Zooble the usually apathetic and kind of asshole who keeps to themselves and gives off i don't care energy and probably gave off the impression that they didn't care about anyone here and just treated the people stuck here as an unfortunate fact and nothing more actually being vulnerable and probably doing the same as ragatha talking about their memories with kaufmo

Kingers ALWAYS kind of zoned out or not really taking anything seriously and just being there completely lost in space, but here hes grounded, and even earlier in the episode when ragatha needed it most he remained grounded then too (tho pomni didnt see that i just wanted to mention it). Just like the others he grieves and lives in the unfortunate moment

more of the kinger being grounded when the thought counts

GANGLE- dude even if its for just a moment she smiles here despite having her tragedy mask and like her whole shtick is being of whatever mood or emotion her mask is allegedly wether she wants to or not, but no here shes more than just that, she smiles for a bit when reminiscing her moments with kaufmo only to go back into crying, and man shes always crying with her tragedy mask but its beyond as far as anyone can tell wether or not its really her or just because of her mask, but here? its really her, no matter what the mask on her face shows!! shes genuinely smiling despite having her comedy mask and shes genuinely crying which is very blatantly obviously different to the usual mask cry etc etc

heres something about all this, it hits pomni in a way. These people ARE real, and they care. They care about her, they have nothing else but eachother and THATS something to latch onto. Thats something to hold her down, even if they just met pomni

SPEAKING OF JUST MEETING POMNI she literally expressed how she didnt wanna just LEAVE gumigoo there by himself because she believes no one should just be left there

the circus peeps just met pomni and just like how she felt a real connection to gumigoo in this digital hell she feels a sort of connection with these people too. Theyre gonna have her back all the same, maybe she wont feel so out of place and alone. BONUS THING!! The literal only times she genuinely smiles is when she feels this real connection to what feels real to her and has a genuine and sincere moment with these people whether it be an npc or a trapped member. Idk it just means something to me how significant both these moments are tipped off with a genuine smile a REAL SMIE!! (id add pictures but tumblr has a 30 image limit) OH ALSO BONUS BONUS THING THE DIFFERENCE IN OUTRO MUSIC IS SO IS SO ITS SO the outro song for the pilot kinda feels so ethereal and out of the moment at least to me it kinda feels like it you're slipping through the cracks and just, existing within yourself as the rest of the world around you kind of shatters into glass or melts into water or something i dont think ANY of that made any sense but its loud and its blaring and its so out of reach in a way, mad disassociation vibes but the outro song for the 2nd ep is a lot quieter yet its right there, at first it starts really small, lonely even. trapped by yourself but as the music gets louder and more instruments join in on the song it kind of has a comforting feel? bittersweet? even? its grounding ina way which is much different from how the first one felt at least to me lmao and the comforting feel kinda only emphasizes what I was talking about earlier- the comfort in having that anchor of reality with having a real moment with these people and making that connection yk? and like as i was saying at first the song starts off with just one instrument, at the start of the episode pomni feels utter alone and out of place even if these people here with here are stuck in the same situation as her, together alone. but as the other instruments join. in it kinda uplifts the song a bit, its not one sole instrument anymore like how in the end pomni feels that connection with everyone else, not so alone anymore idk jackshit about music theory so this is entirely a feelies talk instead of like- music lore? so don't take anything i say as like- idk some professional speak im just a nerd nerding about silly digital fixations ANYWAYS THATS ALL FOR NOW I AVE MORE TO SAY BUT THIS IS LONG ENOUGH LOL if you actually read all the way down this far thank you for listening!!! i really really appreciate it :]

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etoiile · 6 months

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IT'S NOT A CRUSH!

starring kozume kenma!

synopsis: you transfer into kozume kenma's class, and he finds that you somewhat pique his interest. and by "pique his interest," it means exactly that. you're just new and intriguing, that's all. ...he doesn't like you, really!

notes: fem!reader, sorry

kenma had always thought that he would never get into a high school relationship.

after all, he wasn't very outgoing and was told he seemed unapproachable. he mostly kept to himself and played his games, and wasn't exactly a ladies' man. he always thought it was kind of weird to see young high school couples walking around together all lovey-dovey, and couldn't imagine himself doing that. not to mention, love wasn't exactly a priority for him. he couldn't even remember a time he had a real crush on a girl.

sure, he'd thought that a couple of girls were cute before, but it wasn't really an attraction, more of a recognition of beauty. anyone could recognize that a girl was cute; it didn't necessarily mean attraction or crushing. which is why when you transferred into his class and his first thought in response to your nervous introduction was, 'cute,' he figured it was a temporary acknowledgement of your physical appearance.

when just two weeks later, seats were changed and you ended up next to him, and his heart did a little flutter when he saw his name by yours on the board, he figured that the reason the thought of you being cute hadn't left his mind was just because you were new and interesting. you seemed super sweet and bubbly, based on the way you interacted with your classmates, and seemed to fit in relatively quickly. quicker than he would've, anyways. (he still doesn't fit in, actually.) you simply piqued his interest, that's all.

another 2 weeks had passed, and kenma was a bit confused. why hadn't you left his mind? you and him had become friendly, mainly due to your efforts, not his own. you two made small talk before and after class, and oddly enough, he couldn't say that he didn't enjoy it, or even that he felt indifferent. he looked forward to coming in the morning and getting to see your bright smile, and hear your sweet voice. it was puzzling. very, very puzzling.

months had gone by, and kenma couldn't really wrap his head around it. the "physical appearance acknowledgement" should've worn off within a maximum of 2 weeks, and you should be out of his mind by now, but you weren't. far from it, actually. he thought about you all. the. time. why? a true mystery. he wasn't crushing. he didn't form crushes. and even if he did, it's not like he'd do anything about it. high school relationships just weren't of any interest to him, and besides, you two were so different. after the initial shyness, you were sweet, bubbly, and talkative, whereas he never made an effort to talk to anyone, was quiet, stoic, and all around apathetic towards everything around him. you were like a ray of sunshine, and he was like a grey cloud. even if he had a crush, (if!) it's not like it would work out, anyways.

one month later, you two had become quite close. you came over relatively frequently, and you'd do your homework or watch tiktok on his bed while he played a game. sometimes, you'd walk over to where he gamed to watch him play, and make little comments and questions, to which he'd respond to with a smile, happier than he'd admit that you seemed genuinely interested in his interests.

and, of course, he'd never forget the moment it happened. the teacher was going on and on about...something. carbon, hydrogen, and oxygen in a 1:2:1 ratio. or was it 2:1:2? he didn't know. suddenly, he felt a light pressure hitting his shoulder, and he looked over to see you fast asleep on his arm, your chest slowly falling and rising. he felt a warmth rush across his cheeks and reach the tip of his ears. he froze, trying his best not to move a muscle as to not wake you up. he attempted to shift his attention back to the lesson and not pay you any mind.

of course, he couldn't help himself and peered over his shoulder to look at your sleeping face. he wouldnt notice the small smile that crept its way onto his sharp features. your long eyelashes, your cute nose, your plump lips, your tiny mole. they all worked in harmony to make your face, which happened to be a very cute one.

why was he thinking about it this much?

"sounds like kenma's got a crush..." kuroo teased, making little kissy faces and forming hearts with his hands. "is this your first real one ever?" he questioned.

"it's not a crush. i don't get crushes." kenma argued, though the red dusting on his cheeks was certainly not helping his case. "i just...want to know what's happening. i don't have a crush on her, 'nd i don't know why i think about her so much. it's kind of a pain."

"it's a crush, kenma. face it. you like y/n." kuroo sighed, a little exhausted from his friend's emotional stupidity.

"it's not."

"it is."

"it's not."

"it is."

"it's not."

"it- GODDAMNIT KENMA why are you so stubborn?!" kuroo screeched, annoyed by kenma's antics.

kenma only hummed cheekily, glad to have won the "it is-it's not" war (for the 98928392th time. kenma's stubbornness always won.)

it's not a crush. kenma thought to himself as his eyes automatically made way to you, hanging out and laughing with your friends at your lunch table. she's just new (sort of...it had actually been a little while since you'd transferred into his class) and interesting, and i like her as a friend. and she's cute. but just because she's pretty doesn't mean i like her! anyone could recognize her as pretty. its just a fact. i don't like her just because i think she's pretty, and i don't like her just because we're friends. i dont like her. well, of course i like her, but not like that! i dont get crushes on girls. she's just sweet and comforting to be around, and she just happens to be a girl. i don't like her like that. i don't. really.

suddenly, you noticed kenma's gaze and your face lit up, which was really cute. you waved to him excitedly, and gave him a happy little giggle in response to his wave before turning back to your friends.

kenma clutched his heart nervously, which was beating faster than ever. he glared at kuroo, who was smirking and raising a brow at him, and internally yelled at his heart to calm down.

"sure," kuroo teased, "you don't have a crush on her. totally."

"i don't!" kenma protested, despite his pink cheeks and ears.

he gave you another small glance and his heart fluttered. fine, it was more of a fast-paced beat than a flutter. ok, maybe it was more akin to a swarm of stampeding, angry butterflies, but same thing.

alright, maybe he liked you, but only just a little bit.

(it was in fact more than "just a little bit.")

𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐈𝐈𝐋𝐄 ©𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 please do not copy or repost my work on any other site. interactions appreciated! 🤍

#ami writes 💌#kenma x reader #kenma x y/n #kenma x you #kenma fluff #kenma imagines #kenma headcanons #kenma hcs #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines

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milaisreading · 10 months

Note

HIIII i love ur posts!!

Can i request a tired or mentally drained and at one point she breaks down on front of the bllk boys and all of them start panicking or trying to comfort her? 😭😅

I've been tired cuz exam season ( >:p ) "and i wanna cry but i physically can't ( idk why? ) and i want some comfort sooooo.... yeah!

if u dont wanna its cool :)

byeeee❤️❤️

Author: I FEEL U! I have been feeling soo drained and useless ever since my exams finished. Literally can't even relax during this small break I got:// Anyways, I hope u like this! Thanks for the request🩷

Warnings: Reader uses she/her. Requests are open

⚽️Blue Lock belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura⚽️

On any normal day (Y/n) didn't mind the chaos the boys caused her, after all they were under a lot of pressure, so she let them unwind while cleaning up after them. But today was not one of those days. Ever since the preparations for the next Blue Lock phase started she felt like they were more and more chaotic, while she was losing herself more and more in all of her work. The whole week was just a whole mess for her, from running errands for Anri and Ego, to breaking up fights between the teammates, she just felt like giving up. Right now, she was enjoying some quiet time in the lunch hall, just drinking some tea while fighting back sleep.

"This morning was so tiring...." She winced while grabbing her stomach. This morning, Rin accidentally kicked the football past the goal, which ended up hitting (Y/n) in the stomach. This caused a loud argument between the captain, Isagi and Barou. (Y/n) tried to stop them, but the fussing coming from Aryu and Hiori stopped her. She was annoyed that they didn't let her handle the issue, instead Kurona and Yukimiya ended up dragging her toward the infirmary.

Next thing that happened was an hour after the first incident. Karasu and Otoya were practicing with Bachira and Aryu, (Y/n) was as usually sitting and taking down the stats of the 4. Nothing unusual. Until Bachira decided to goof around with the football and yell at (Y/n) to watch him do some tricks. She admitted, they were impressive, and she commented on how great they are. Her comments along with the impressed look on her face caused the other three to start doing the same. The problem was that there were 4 of them and (Y/n) would have to look every 2 seconds at a different player, which did make her dizzy. Ego had noticed the commotion and yelled at all 5 of them to get back to training.

The 3rd incident happened barely an hour ago at lunch time. (Y/n) was sitting with Gagamaru, Isagi and Chigiri during the time, and while talking with the 3, she didn't notice an argument between Kunigami and Nagi unfolding. Everyone knew that (Y/n) barely ever ate her dessert, it had too much protein, so she would always left it to one of the players to eat. The dessert was pretty much the highlight of their day and the team agreed on whoever got the most points for the day, will get the sweet treat. This arrangement worked for 2 months, but today was the first time that two players were tied in points.

Kunigami and Nagi were both known to be level headed and somewhat apathetic towards everything, except when it comes to their manager and her attention, that's when both are pretty much irrational.

"I think you seem to misunderstood me, Nagi. I am getting it today." Kunigami said, sending a tight smile towards the albino.

"And you seemed to have misunderstood me, Kunigami. But that pudding is mine."

"Calm down, you two." Niko rolled his eyes, still mad that he lost this time.

(Y/n), blissfully unaware of that whole agreement, noticed Gagamaru staring at her dessert. Knowing she won't eat it anyways, she decided to give it to him.

"Here. I won't eat. Hope you like strawberry flavor." She said, handing the surprised Gagamaru her food.

Chigiri and Isagi gasped silently. They shortly sent the flustered goalie jealous glares before looking at Kunigami and Nagi, who were staring degers at Gagamaru.

"A-are you sure?" The boy asked as (Y/n) nodded her head, smiling warmly at the boy.

"Of course-"

"Gagamaru, you traitor!" The two flinched and looked in surprise at Nagi.

"Ha?" (Y/n) panicked a little as she saw Kunigami and Nagi glaring at the duo.

"Keep it down, you two." Reo rolled his eyes, earning a nod from Tokimitsu.

"M-maybe we should let Gagamaru have-"

"Shut it, Tokimitsu!" Kunigami and Nagi yelled and then started arguing with Gagamaru. It eventually spread across the whole lunch room, and (Y/n) started twitching a little. Nobody was listening to her as she tried to calm it down. Was it the exhaustion or pure desperation to shut everyone up, but (Y/n) eventually started crying silently. Lost in her own thoughts while crying, she wasn't paying attention to what the rest were saying.

"I am the fastest. The dessert is mine!" Chigiri earned a show from Aryu at that.

"You forget I was in the top3 and I am the one with the better hair."

"Oh, shut up you peasants! You all are beneath me and (Y/n), therefore the pudding is mine."

"Says who? You, Barou? You do not have the charm to be anywhere near (Y/n)."

"Otoya, you cheated on your girlfriends. What makes you think you are worthy?" Yukimiya sighed.

"And what about you, Yukimiya? You are so plain, there is no way she will fall for you. Now me on the other hand-"

"Oh, shut up Karasu. Your charms are below Antarctica's temperatures." Niko groaned.

"I think the cutest one of us should get the pudding. So me-"

"Bachira, that would be me. I am also the ace, so that's just a bonus." Isagi smiled, earning a glare from Rin

"Pipe it down, you two can barely pick up a 2nd language." The captain added in.

"English is hard." The two protested.

"I think the richest one should have a say in the dessert." Reo smirked, earning louder protests.

Tokimitsu shivered a little in fright and looked over at (Y/n), freezing for a moment as he saw her crying.

"What's up, Tokimitsu?" Hiori wondered, one of the few who decided not to argue. Kurona looked over to where Tokimitsu was looking, and his eyes widened in surprise as he saw her crying too. He nudged Hiori.

"Look." Kurona said and the cyan-haired boy looked at (Y/n). He wasted no time and ran to her side, followed by Tokimitsu and Kurona.

"He-hey, don't take it to heart. They are stupid like that." Tokimitsu said as he patted the sobbing girl's back. Kurona and Hiori moved closer, both trying to calm her down, all three felt their hearts breaking as they watched her cry. The room grew slowly quiet too, as the rest looked at (Y/n) in concern and guilt.

"(Y/n)...." Chigiri gulped.

"It's just hard to keep up with you all. You keep arguing and destroying things at times... and it's just hard to keep up... I can usually take it, but I guess today isn't my day." A wave of guilt hit the team as they quickly scrambled for the right words. The last thing they wanted was for their (Y/n) to cry, or worse, contemplate on leaving them.

"Tokimitsu, go and take (Y/n) somewhere quiet to calm down. The rest of you stay here." Rin said, quickly getting unto his captain mode. The rest said nothing, deciding not to make things worse, and they watched with guilt and sadness as (Y/n) got dragged out by Tokimitsu.

"Alright, listen up." Rin spoke up, causing the rest to look at him.

"We need to pull our shit together, unless we want (Y/n) to leave and for some other manager to replace her. The team pretty much shuddered at the idea, there was no way someone will replace her!

"So, what's your idea, captain?" Barou wondered.

"I will tell you, but first... Reo, I need you to do some calls." The billionaire heir raised his eyebrow and slowly nodded his head.

And soo, that was what had happened. (Y/n) ended up crying for about 30 minutes as Tokimitsu stayed around, just in case. The boy was collected and calm, no sign of his previous fidgety demeanor. After she calmed down, she apologized to Tokimitsu for inconveniencing him, but the boy didn't mind.

"If you feel down again, don't be afraid to tell us. We will listen." The boy said with a smile, which calmed her down a lot.

After lunch, she went back to her normal duties, helping the other staff members and the team out. To her surprise, they didn't cause any ruckus, they were calm and friendly. Even Rin, Isagi and Barou stayed away from arguing with each other. Unbeknownst to her, whenever a staff member tried to scold her, Karasu, Aryu and Nagi would send them warning glares. They alone caused them to back off quickly. All in all, the day went pretty well, and (Y/n) felt a lot lighter now. She slowly walked into her bedroom, and stopped at the entrance as she noticed a box on her bed. Slowly walking towards it, she looked at the note on the box and slowly started reading it. (Y/n)'s eyes widened a little as she read it through, realizing that the team sent her this, and her heart melted at the apology they wrote out.

'They are chaotic... but I love them like that.' She smiled and slowly opened the box, only to find various treats that she could only buy outside of Blue Lock's facility, she even got a small (f/c) bear.

'They probably made Reo get this...' She chuckled and plopped on the bed, hugging the bear close to herself.

'I will make it up to them... maybe Teieri-san can help me get them some small gift next week.' She thought, slowly falling asleep.

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salaimoi · 2 months

Text

first story from my new, ongoing series: talk to me nice. feel free to leave any constructive criticism! (I can handle it, unlike Gojo)

"Look, I didn't ask for your stupid advice, so don't pretend like you know everything."

Gojo hissed at you, nearly popping a vein from how smug you were being right now.

The only thing you suggested was that he stop dressing like somebody’s grandpa all the time – he had a physique carved by the gods themselves, why not put it to use? Such a waste, honestly.

"Mm~ whatever. So sassy," you replied, followed by an eye roll violent enough to nearly cause your eyes to fall clean off your skull. “Ever heard of constructive criticism?”

"Yeah, yeah. You know, instead of just giving me advice all the time, why don't you compliment me for once? You know, say something nice about me — it's not that hard. "

"Me? Compliment you? Gojo please. Unless you wire me every single yen in your bank account, you won't hear a single praise come out of this mouth.”

Even though he himself felt very frustrated right now, he couldn't stop himself from enjoying the banter – so much so that he would begin to grin as he tried to control himself from bursting out laughing. You were playing a dangerous game here because he could actually make this deal happen, and you were perfectly aware of that — but despite that, you were still trying to push his buttons and he’d make you eat your words because of it.

"You know what, I think I will actually do just that. So let me ask you, what happens when I send over every yen in my bank account, will you genuinely compliment yours truly?" he smirks in that usual arrogant manner, growing more and more interested by the second. "I better get my money’s worth, you know."

Still thinking he was bluffing, you replied, "Obviously. But you only get one compliment."

"Humm~ fine, and it better be the most heart shattering compliment in the history of compliments — soul crushing even. Now, I'll go ahead and transfer you the money," he paused for a moment before remembering something rather important.

"I need your bank account number to wire the money."

"W-wait … you're not serious are you?”

"Why would I lie? I’m serious about this and you'll also be serious about your part, got it? So I need that bank account number now."

"Are you insane!? I was only kidding, genius!"

"Maybe I am, but I'm doing this because I really want your compliment. So don't try to discourage me because for every minute we spend arguing here, I'm losing my patience.”

And it wasn’t like he needed your flattery; he just wanted to hear you sing his praises as a contrast to your usual behavior. You were always so cold and apathetic around him, but he knew that wasn’t the real you — and he took it upon himself to reveal the side you buried under that stoic facade.

“So just tell me your bank account number and I'm going to transfer the money to your account right now — the full 59 billion."

Your body froze in utter shock as you realized he was dead serious. Straightening yourself on the mattress, your mouth hung wide open — staring at him in disbelief. The realization of it all was enough to cause one of your eyes to twitch in perplexity.

"Gojo you must've lost your mind if you think I'm gonna accept that,” you scoffed at how insufferable he really was, but secretly loving every second of it. "Who in their right mind would spend ¥59 billion on one compliment?"

"Only people who can afford it, of course,” he smirks cynically, tossing his phone up into the air just for it to land right back onto his palm. “If you ask me, ¥59 billion is too small a price for a compliment directly out of that pretty mouth of yours.”

“You’re insufferable. For fucks sake, you should have a mental disorder named after you.”

“But you can't actually deny that I'm pretty charming, can you? You might not show a hint of affection, but I think it's pretty obvious that you like my insufferable attitude. Or are you gonna deny that you don't?"

He unlocked his phone, opening the banking app and going into the transfer section.

You didn’t hesitate to smack the phone out of his hand, causing it to fall down on the bed.

"Satoru, are you even listening to me!!??"

"Heh~ you're actually quite impressive when you finally get serious. You were really quick there with that tiny hand of yours.”

“This tiny hand of mine will be enclosing around your neck until you’re out of oxygen if you continue to act like an unsupervised child with access to money.”

His expression was thoughtful for a few seconds before he pointed at you, flashing his pearly whites.

"You know, you're actually pretty attractive when you get all aggressive like that. It really looks cute on you. I don't know if I can actually handle someone who's this much of a pain in the ass but still has a cute side to her."

He chortles, leaning back on the headboard before continuing, "See? That’s how you compliment someone, wasn’t that hard now was it? Now you do it.”

Your eyes narrow, two fingers rubbing at your temples as you contemplate the situation.

"You know what. Fine. If you want to recklessly spend your money like this, I'll give you what you want. No comment until I see that money in my bank account, though."

This reply made him burst out laughing, his grin becoming a bit bigger and he began to speak with a playful tone.

"Alright, if you say so. But just remember, it'll be too late to back out after I've already sent the money…”

[One new notification: direct deposit from Gojo Satoru received. New balance: ¥59,000,000,000.024.]

"..."

“Don’t you have anything to say?”

"...you have nice eyes?"

"..."

“I want a refund right this instant, y/n.”

#✰ gojodagoat is online #talk to me nice 𐙚🧸ྀི #ALSO FIRST TIME USING Y/N I FEEL SO WEIRD #help idk how to feel about the dialogue colors😭😭#for some reason I feel like it’s overwhelming?!#what do we think??#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru fluff #jujutsu kaisen satoru #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #satorugojo #satoru gojo

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creampie-capital · 9 months

Text

║The Demon Childhood Friend║║━ Pt. 1 ━║

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

Male Monster x Fem! Reader Word count║12,600

The Devil May Lick Me Masterlist ━━━➤ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐌𝐞

↳.·:*¨༺𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧༻¨*:·.

↳║The Demon Childhood Friend║║━ Pt. 2 ━║ - in development

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

Photo Reference Cred ━━━➤ 9taeX on X (Twitter)

Do not steal, copy, or repost anywhere. My work is currently on both CREAMPIE_CAPITAL on wattpad and Imtropicalbaby on Quotev. If posted on another account or website, please report and notify me immediately.

Now onto the story :)

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

(Y/n) - Six years old

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

"Hey! Why are you sitting there all alone?"

The movement of your legs stalled on the swing as you peered up through your hair. You hadn't expected two boys to appear in front of you like a flash of lightning.

One of them had leaned down while tilting his head of light bubblegum pink hair. It was long, pulled into a high ponytail with bangs that split in the middle over his pale forehead. He observed your small stature sitting on the swing with otherworldy optics like he held the ocean in his iris.

His eyes were doe-like and hooded, gracing him with a curious, youthful face that probably won over the hearts of young and old women. Lastly, before you diverted your attention away, you observed the golden halo hovering above his head.

The one beside him was a lot shorter and appeared apathetic as if he were annoyed to be here at the park. He had rather dark, woolly blond hair with nice curls that were longer by the back of his head. Even as he kept his small body at an angle, looking off into the distance, you were still able to see the vibrant scarlet colors in his iris'.

Small angled eyes with long dark lashes could have had him mistaken for female if it were not for his facial features or body. Interestingly enough, unlike his counterpart, a pair of crystal-like horns sprouted from the top of his head.

They were small, too, like little baby horns of a goat. It would be blind of you not to mention their set of wings, one a soft fluff of white feathers hidden beneath a long-sleeved shirt. The other, dark, leather in texture and featherless, curled inwards behind his back.

"Mom and Dad were arguing again." You murmur while dropping your small hands that held onto the chain on top of your lap.

The angel boy raised his brow as his small lips formed into an o-shape. "Ah! You're the new girl that just moved in next to mine!" He stuck out his hand and offered it as he grinned boyishly. "I'm Javan, and this is my bestfriend Zagan. He also lives just down the street."

You stared at his rather thin fingers for a moment before reaching for it with a bleak expression. Yet once your skin touched him, your entire stomach became a ball of heated lava, and the cynical emotions running rampant in your young mind became non-existent.

The dark thoughts omitted from your mentality...it all became so clear.

"What's your name?" Javan questioned as he held your hand firmly while that bright grin remained on his face.

You had to swallow thickly before you could answer. "(Y/n)...I'm (Y/n)."

"Nice to meet you!" He beamed before looking over at the demon boy. "Why don't we include (Y/n) into the group!? You know we kids need to stick together!"

Zagan glanced at you for a moment before sighing and crossing his arms over this sweater. He didn't speak; probably didn't want another person to come into their already-established friendship and steal his best friend.

It was understandable.

"Oh, Zagan agrees! Then help me push her!" Before you could reply, Javan and Zagan appeared behind you and began pushing your back on the swing.

It didn't take long for you to start moving. Creaking reverberated around the park as the setting sun painted the sky with molten gold.

The wind rushing past your ear felt exhilarating, your heart skipping a beat as the sensation of your stomach dropping provoked tingling sensations to surge through your body.

You had never gotten so high, so high that you can touch the clouds. It felt like you could finally do it... as if you could finally flutter away on a pair of wings.

Weightless, feather-like, you could fly away anywhere but here.

One of your arms stuck out to the dimming sky. You wanted to grasp that warmness and hold it close to your heart, never to let it go ever again.

And for a moment, it felt like you were doing it. Until the air swooshed past your ear, and your body was descending swiftly.

"(Y/n)!"

The darkness of night took over as the lamps flashed with murky color.

And the chill ate you alive until you were swathed in that same lava-like heat from before. Your eyes drifted from the sky to Javan's face, who held you firmly.

His wings had torn from his clothes to beat in the air as he slowly descended until he kneeled and sat you down on the tire chips.

"Are you okay?" He questioned you, face full of worry, ocean blue eyes filled with dread.

The words felt caught in your throat.

A burning sensation sprouted in your chest, and it took everything in you not to cry. But when Zagan ambled over to kneel on the other side of your figure and lightly touched your shoulder, you felt overwhelmed.

So you cried and bawled and wailed so hard that you were choking on air. Your face burned, the heat on your cheeks and ears hot like the burner on the stove.

Wet tears fell as though they were never-ending, wetting your face and drenching your top. An ache so tense and strained gripped at your heart, squeezing to where you felt lightheaded.

Zagan and Javan hadn't said a word as they kneeled by your side and let you cry your heart out.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

(Y/n) - Ten years old

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

A tap resonated from your window as you hid beneath your comforter, reading the superhero comic book with a rather bulky flashlight.

You had ignored it, mouthing the words on printed paper to yourself to practice your pronunciation. Turning the page, your lips parted to speak, and yet another tap at your window startled your movement.

For a moment, you sat in silence, hearing it again before thrusting the blanket overhead. It was hot and stuffy under the covering that once you were out, the chilly breeze of the central air rose goosebumps over your skin.

You nearly tripped, scooting off your bed and running over to your window. Kneeling over the cushioned bench, you forced it open to stick your head out.

Zagan and Javan hovered in the air of your second-story house with their wings. They've grown a lot since you first met them; well, the pink-haired one grew the most.

He grew taller, his limbs longer, and his hair, tied in a high ponytail, reached the small of his back. His halo now pulsated brightly with the pure white aileron's lengthier, far longer than the length of a car.

Zagan, on the other hand, remained the shortest, shorter than you. He still had a lot of baby fat on his cheeks that were framed by his golden curls that grew longer, reaching his shoulders. Though, if something had grown, it had to have been his leathery bat-like wings that extended to such a length that you were surprised it was not getting stuck in the tree branches.

"Baby girl!" The angel boy greeted as he smiled brightly and fluttered his white feathered wings.

That nickname used to be an insult because of how you cried your eyes out when they first met you. But then they both casually referred to you by it since you liked to call them Angel Boy and Demon Boy.

When they call you it, you swear all your worries melt away, and you become a small little jewel that they cherish like a national treasure.

You felt special and valued, adored by people who didn't see fault in your every move.

Instead of responding back joyfully as you usually would, you crossed your arms and turned the other way. "I'm not talking to you two! Not after you guys got me grounded!" Your young adolescent voice expresses out.

The demon boy frowns while he twiddles his fingers behind his back with his batty aileron's twitching.

J had clicked his tongue and shrugged rather nonchalantly in his grey windbreaker. "You can't blame us forever, Baby! You were the one that wanted to fly to the satellite tower-"

You flung your head towards the angel while sneering. "Yeah, but you both were the ones that flew into the camera with the news reporter! When my dad saw it, he flipped and took away all my privileges! That's why I'm still grounded after three months!" Your response only spurs the young boy to rub the back of his neck sheepishly.

He could only grin and hope that bright smile he knew you loved would cheer you up. It was irritable how right he was. Although you were still upset, you wavered without even a fight.

Javan was just someone you couldn't be mad at, and Zagan as well. Not when the demon looked like he would faint when you would ignore him and vice versa for you with the angel.

"You guys are so lucky." You whine while sitting down on your bench and resting one of your arms on the windowsill. "Your parents never ground either of you."

The angel quirks a lopsided grin as he wags one of his fingers. "You can't get in trouble if they don't know~" His teasing remark spurs you to flick his forehead harshly.

He winces slightly while you train your attention to the ends of your hair. "Easy for you to say when your parents don't monitor everything you do like a hawk. They only just recently allowed me to be in my room by myself during the day..."

Zagan's scarlet red eyes flicker upwards to meet your gaze. "Sorry..." He whispers so softly that you almost miss it over the loud wooshing of the wind due to their flapping wings.

You parted your lips to speak, yet it was interrupted by a voice. "(Y/n)! Who are you talking to when you're grounded!?"

It was your father, and you could hear his heavy footsteps already stalking up the stairs.

"Crap!" Javan groans. The angel boy flew over to kiss your forehead before waving goodbye and flying over to his house next door.

You watched him glide so effortlessly away as the warmth on the spot he touched was mind-numbing and addicting.

Z glanced down at the ground for a second before shuffling for something in his pants pocket. Just as the footsteps arrived at your door, he placed something in the palm of your hand and whispered softly against your ear.

"I thought of you."

His soft, boyish voice rose the hair on the back of your neck.

The door squeaked open, and Z was gone like a flash of lightning. "Who said you could have your window open? Close it now." His voice is grating, pungent with authority as the man of the house.

"Yes, Dad." You responded immediately and slammed it shut. Your blood is running cold, a type of chill that burns bitterly.

His presence lingers, staring at the back of your head like you are little prey unable to escape its trap. Then there are his eyes, those cold, lifeless eyes.

You never liked seeing those words in the books. Cold...Lifeless...how can one look like that? But as you grew older, you became aware.

Nothing behind the eyes, empty and void of basic compassion. Or maybe he's only like that with you. Fathers know best for their daughters, right?

"Do you want more privileges to be taken away?" He questioned, which spurred you to immediately shake your head, gaze still situated on the wooden floor. "Should it be your bed or your books next?"

"N-No, please." Your voice was feeble, powerless like an injured animal. "I'm sorry."

His bulky body leans against the door frame while his arms crossed over his chest, and remains in silence. He lets the stillness unnerve you, the unknown of what is to come to scare you into compliance.

So he just stood there while you sat on the bench, cornered and head bowed.

The silence is so deafening. No, it's suffocating. As though quietness manifested into hands to grip your little neck and squeeze-

"Dad, the show's back on!" Your younger brother's voice cuts through the tension and gains the older man's attention.

He huffs audibly and finally speaks. "When I say you're grounded, that means you're being punished for disobeying." The man retorts. "Don't piss me off again." And with that, he grasps the door handle and slams it shut.

A hanging frame on the door tumbles from the force, with the walls of your room rattling. You don't move for a second, remaining stagnant to cease the quivering in your lips.

"I hate you." It seethes from your lips before you rub your eyes free of a burning sensation.

Now that you were alone, you allowed yourself to relax and unclench your fingers over the object Zagan had given you. What you come to see is a silver necklace with a small pendant. It's a pair of wings, silver and shiny, with something engraved on the smooth backside.

'My Favorite Girl'

How gorgeous. It brought a smile to your face as you ran your finger over the present. The metal and jewels felt cool to the touch.

You swiftly ran over to your vanity and chained the necklace around your throat like your life depended on it.

Often, it felt as though Zagan was annoyed with you, rarely ever speaking while looking disinterested. But sometimes...sometimes, he did things that brought a smile to your face.

Just like now.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

(Y/n) - Fourteen years old

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

Javan settled down in the seat next to you as he placed one of his arms around the back of your neck. Your gaze rose from the school Chromebook while you smiled at the male.

The more he ages, the more he continues to grow. His limbs became lengthy, his pink bubblegum hair down to his knees, and all the youthful fat in his face graced him with a prominent jawline and hollowed cheekbones.

"Hey, you. I thought Mr. Voitier was going to keep you after class for not paying attention." You tease while reaching for an apple on your tray.

It's lunchtime during eighth grade; you had sat in the courtyard attempting to fix homework you made a mistake on before it was due.

The angel winks while wagging a finger. "Not some good 'ol persuasion couldn't help with." He states before sticking out his tongue.

You scoffed, pinching his tongue before wiping the saliva on a napkin. "Threatening to tell the school that he's being biased because he's a demon isn't going to work forever. Eventually, he's going to lose his patience."

J merely waves a hand, dismissing your words before he leans back in his seat. His ocean eyes peer over to your screen, which provokes a groan.

"Sh*t. I didn't even know that was homework."

"How did you not know? It literally says the due date at the top."

The angel shrugs, and you roll your eyes. "This cannot be a habit, you know." His gaze is burning against the side of your face, provoking little tingles to run up your spine. "Fine...Fine, you can copy." Once you spoke, he beamed so brightly that his halo pulsated almost blindly.

He's like the sun that you could have in your arms.

"You're a lifesaver! Mom would kick my a** if I got anything below an A." He expressed with his white wings fluttering behind his back.

He's so cute.

"Yeah, yeah. If you would just stop being lazy and forgetful, you'd never have to worry." As you return your gaze to the Chromebook, you catch a glimpse of dark wings and light hair.

Blinking, you tilt the screen down as you hone in on the background. It was Zagan, for sure.

You actually have not seen him around for a while now. He's always busy or off doing his own thing. Your parents do not trust you enough to have a phone, so it is not like you can just message him.

Often, you do see him around his house down the street, but in school, it's like he's a ghost.

Matching your sight, Javan stands up while unfortunately removing his arm from your shoulders. "Yo! Z, bud!"

Zagan's movement froze as he removed his earbuds and directed his attention to the wall of windows.

The demon boy was still the same as when he was years ago—chubby cheeks, short height, stick-like limbs, baby crystal horns, with his shaggy curly blond hair reaching his shoulders.

What really changed was his wings, which were just massive, even longer than Javan's. He had to have it folded behind his back and buckled with a binding due to how difficult it was for him to keep the huge ailerons closed.

It must hurt.

The male beside you waves his hand over, and at first, it appears as though the other person in the trio looks hesitant.

But after a moment, he shifted his path and opened the doors to enter the courtyard. His scarlet horns glimmered like a gleaming diamond under the sun.

Javan and Zagan share a quick handshake before he nods over to acknowledge your presence.

"Whatchya been up to, man? We barely see you anymore." The angel starts as he returns to sit down next to you.

His right hand found its place on your thigh, and you swore your heart nearly lurched out of your stomach. The heat of his skin that you could feel through your clothes was swathing you in a bubble of delight.

It was addicting and comforting and had shot tingles all across your abdomen.

The demon boy swallowed rather audibly as he turned his head away. "Just been busy." He states, his voice slightly cracking.

Hmm, why wasn't he telling you two about it? You all shared everything with each other.

"I get it, man. Just don't forget about us. We've been friends for way too long just to grow apart." Javan expressed, and you nodded your head in agreement.

"We are here for you, Z." His scarlet eyes fling down to meet your gaze. "With whatever's going on, we'll listen. We'll support you through anything. That's what friends are for."

He swallows thickly again, his one hand hanging by his side twitching before curling into a fist that he hid in the pocket of his sweatshirt. "Yeah, I know. Thanks for that." His phone abruptly vibrates, and he snatches it swiftly, reading something on the screen with hard eyes before sighing. "I gotta go."

Before either of you can tell him goodbye, he was trekking back into the school with his tied wings beating against the binding.

A scowl laces your lips as you slouch in your seat. "I hope he's okay." You murmur, which prompts the angel to squeeze his hand on your leg.

Your fingers twitch as you train your attention to meet his bright eyes. "He's fine. You know he's just always been moody." The pink-haired being expresses while reaching for his own phone.

Either on instinct or tendency, your dominant hand rose to graze over the winged pendant beneath your blouse.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

Knocking audibly on the door, you could hear courses of children screaming and laughing with objects falling to the ground.

It took a moment for the front door to be opened, and you were welcomed by the sight of Jahi, Zagan's mother.

She's a beautiful woman, blessed with beautiful features, a small mole on her chin, and small, sharp cat-like eyes with long lashes. You could see where Zagan got his hair from, his mother sprouting bright golden curls that reached her hips.

Her wings were something else, still leather-like but marked with swirling scarlet red lines that seemed to glow.

There was a small toddler hanging off her shoulder with one on top of her head and another babbling in her arms.

"Hi, Aunty!" You greet and grip the straps of your backpack. "Is Zagan home?"

"Baby!" She gushes down at you from her tall height while using the childhood nickname the two boys in your trio used. "It's been a while since you've been over. Everything alright?"

For a moment, you feel the inner corner of your eyes tense and burn, but you push it down to smile and nod your head. "Yes, Aunty! Eighth grade is just so busy."

Jahi nods before she catches one of her kids that fell from her head without even looking. "I understand. Don't be afraid to come over more often, even if it's just for dinner. Come in; Zagan's down in his room."

You bowed slightly before entering her large home and immediately removed your shoes. Two other kids covered in paint ran past swiftly while knocking over a vase.

Aunty Jahi practically teleported over and caught the porcelain object with one of her wings. "It looks like the kiddos are rather active today." You jest while helping her to put the vessel back on the stand.

"No kidding." She murmurs while leading you over to the kitchen. Easily, she holds two of the tykes in one arm as she rummages through the refrigerator before pulling out a bowl of fruit. "Have a snack. I'll be making dinner soon."

A lopsided grin forms on your lips from the habit you've always had. Every time you all used to come over, the older demon woman had snacks for you to eat.

Whether it be fruit, candy, or pastries. Carefully, you took the bowl and nodded. "Okay, Aunty. I'll see you in a bit."

She waved you away as you strode through the home like second nature. The residence was big, bigger than all the houses in the neighborhood.

It made sense with all the children in the Lamia household—at least seven children, with Zagan being the oldest. He likes to say that he can't stand his siblings, but he's cared for them like a third parent.

He'll say he hates them, but you've never seen someone who'd go to the ends of the world to find a cure when his brothers and sisters have just a cold.

Yeah, the demon boy goes on and on about wanting to move away, but you both know he'd worry himself sick about the other kids.

Watching your footing, you strolled downstairs to the basement, where you passed one of Z's younger brothers by a year reading on the couch in the common area.

They were rather similar looking, except he was taller, a little more aged in the face, and his horns had grown to curl back over his ears.

If you weren't family friends, you would have guessed the second and third oldest had come before Zagan because of how fast they grow...it's something Zagan's very insecure about.

"Hey, Alastor." You greet him as you pass.

He peers up for a second before returning to his book. "Hey, (Y/n)."

Down the hallway, the last door at the end, you approach unhurriedly before knocking loudly. You wait for a response, and once you get a quiet 'what,' you open it.

Zagan's changed into a pair of sweats with a matching dark sweater. His attention is on the gaming computer as he effortlessly clicks the buttons on his controller without even looking.

Once his gaze flickers over to you for a moment, he's startled and bangs his knee against the desk. "F*ck..." He curses under his breath as he yanks the headphones off his head.

You hold in a giggle and step in fully to close the door behind your figure.

"What are you doing here?" He snaps, practically hissing it out as he slides out from the desk to rub his knees.

"Why else?" You retort, dropping your bag against the wall to settle on his wide bed. "I miss you and came to check in because it feels like you're ignoring us."

Zagan frowns at your words; his gaze focuses on his legs for a second before he returns them to his screen. "You should have just texted-"

"I don't have a phone, remember."

He's silenced as you begin plopping the fruits into your mouth and snacking on them as if you had been starving.

The demon boy returned to his game, placing back on his headphones but keeping one earpad off so he could hear if you spoke.

Indulging in the comfortable ambiance of his button clicking and the muffled screaming of his siblings upstairs, you watched him play silently.

Not long after, you grasped your bag and took out a folder with homework that needed to be completed. You lay on your stomach, kicking your legs back and forth while reaching for fruit in the bowl.

When it came to spending time with Zagan, you both enjoyed doing your own thing in each other's presence. And considering that the demon boy didn't often speak either, you did most of the talking as he either nodded along to what you were saying or grunted in response.

It was comforting and something you've missed. For a while now, there felt to be this distance growing, like he were on the other side of the bridge with the path crumbling apart.

You didn't want to lose him.

"Where's Javan? Thought you'd be with him." He abruptly speaks up, cutting off the neutral silence.

"Javan had something to do with the Angel community." You state while turning over the packet to the next page. "Something about reconnecting with their beliefs or whatever."

Although you do not see, the demon nodded his head while saving his game. He removed his headphones to hang them on his monitor before turning his gaming chair to face your figure lying on his bed.

Feeling his gaze, you peered up while smiling. "Hey, there, Demon Boy. I missed you."

Zagan swallowed thickly at your words, his throat visibly bobbing as he gripped the rest of his seat tightly. You didn't notice earlier, but beneath his vibrant eyes were dark undercircles.

Had he not been sleeping well? He was always the last one to fall asleep and the first one up during sleepovers.

Even Jahi used to take him to the hospital for chronic insomnia, and they thought it was resolved. Guess not.

"Do you-"

"I know that you are in love with Javan."

You choked on a bite of fruit, a stinging sensation sprouting in the back of your throat as you sat up to cough. "W-What?! No! What are you even talkin' about?" Zagan's expression was not pleased. "Was it...Was it really that obvious?"

He scoffed while nodding and leaning back in his seat.

Groaning, you ran a hand through your hair while keeping your eyes down. It felt difficult at that moment to meet his gaze. "I didn't want anyone to know. I don't want anything to ruin our friendship, you know? We're already becoming distant."

The embarrassment was eating you alive.

"Baby Girl..." It's been years since he has called your name, even longer since you've heard him use that nickname. It makes shivers run up your spine as a tingling in your abdomen flutters. "You know that Javan's not really..." He stops himself from speaking anymore as if he couldn't find the words. "Javan's not really who you think he is. Don't you see fast he switches up when you're around?"

Raising a brow, you shook your head. "Actually, no, I don't. What do you mean by that?"

He respired a heavy breath, appearing unsure and doubtful as he shifted in his seat. "F*ckin' A... Listen, you might think you know Javan, but you really don't. He's not...He's not a good person-"

"What are you talking about!" You interjected, feeling heat flush through your body and a wave of vertigo. "I've known him since forever. I know him. Why are you talking down on our friend like that?"

His constrained wings twitched, pushing against the binding that had the straps whine. He attempted to speak, his lips parting, but only wheezes escaped.

Cursing again, his thin, bony fingers gripped tightly onto the armrest as his right leg began to bounce. "Please, if you value our friendship, just listen to me."

Oh, how you wanted to walk away right there, but what he said halted you in your spot. Of course, you valued your friendship with him; he was your best friend.

He was your family.

"Baby, Javan knows you like him. Everyone knows." Your face was burning in embarrassment; it felt so humiliating for some reason. "He doesn't feel the same. H-He's rather ashamed and disgusted-"

"You're lying!" It was practically a scream as you shot to your feet off the bed. "Javan would never say that!" The inner corner of your eyes stung as tears glazed over the conjunctiva. "He's not like that! You're just envious that he's always been better than you!"

Due to your words, the rage boiling your blood had now transferred over to the demon in front of you. Zagan stood up almost dangerously slow, like a predatory. "You think that's why I'm envious..." He nearly snarled while his canines visibly grew longer and sharper. "I don't give a flying f*ck that he's taller, bigger, smarter. He could be better than me in a hundred more ways, but it wouldn't even come close to why I'm envious of that b*stard."

Seething hot tears trailed down your face, seeping down your chin to wetten your throat. You didn't know how to feel, what exactly to feel.

All your emotions were taken for a spin: disoriented, puzzled, dumb-struck. Who is telling the truth? Who is right?

They both are your best friend, the people closest to your heart that makes your days brighter and nights calmer.

But how do you react when the one you're utterly in love with isn't who you thought he was? Or when the other confronts you with what could be the truth...but also a lie?

"Please, Z. Just...just tell me that you didn't mean it, and I'll forget-"

The straps containing his massive wings had snapped from the force as they extended outwards. The dark, leathery ailerons knocked over objects and slashed through metal shelves attached to the walls.

You nearly fell over from the sudden action, intimidated by the spikes that lined the edge at the top. Not only was it long in width, but the height of it was nearly double his stature.

They don't grow their wings like that; they don't get so big they are nearly twice their size. But his had the possibility of rivaling Satan.

"Ever since we were kids, you've let him get away with everything. You've overlooked too many flaws for me to stand here and let you get your heart broken." He reached forward to wipe a tear away, but you couldn't stand the touch of him at the moment.

It can't be true.

"What does it matter to you..." It's a broken cry, whimpering from your lips as your heart shatters inside regardless.

It just can't be true.

"I-" His chest decompresses while his wings descend like a deflating toy. "Baby, I care about you-"

"Then why are you lying to me!?"

Zagan startles you as his hands latch onto your shoulders and squeeze. "I'm not lying! Not to you! Not to my Baby." His already slightly high pre-teen voice squeaked, and he cringed at his tone.

So overwhelmed, filled with grief and disbelief, you stepped backward and spoke to him in a way you never have before. "No, I'm not your Baby. Not anymore."

It was as if you watched his world crumble in his scarlet eyes. "(Y-(Y/n)...please."

You couldn't breathe at all, as if someone had your lungs in their hands and were depriving you of any air. With blurry sight, muddled with tears, you turned away and shoved your things into your bag.

His wings were still in the way; those beautiful things that you loved to play with when he would allow it made the tears all the worse now. "Let me out." You ordered.

The hands that were once holding your shoulder dropped to hang limply by his side, weak, frail, unstable. "If I let you go, then that's it."

You were losing strength in your legs.

"(Y/n), don't leave me...please." He begged while stepping forward, but you turned your head away.

Your grip on the straps of your bag was not enough padding to save your palms from being burrowed into by your nails. "Goodbye, Zagan."

That was it. You both knew that it was final; there was no going back from this. The friendship has been tarnished, and trust broken.

It will never be the same again.

Hesitantly, Zadan curled in his massive wing, and you didn't waste another moment running out of there.

You flung the door open and scurried down the hall.

Alastor was still in the common room on the couch and waved to you without looking away from his book. "Goodbye, (Y/n)."

"Goodbye, Alastor."

You passed the other Lamia siblings who called out to you, and you had to say goodbye, knowing you'd never be back here again.

On your way to the front door, you tried to be silent, holding down a sob, but when you heard Jahi calling out to you from behind, you nearly bawled right then and there.

"I'll see you soon, right, Baby?"

You sniffled, hiding your face as you forcefully shoved your feet into your shoes and half-a**ed-tied them. "Of course, Aunty!" Faking the enthusiasm hurt like a punch to the gut. "I'll see you again soon."

Before she could reply, you left as fast as you could. There's no one left to turn to but him; you need to see him.

Without a phone or any way to contact him, all you could do was return home and wait for him to get back from the event.

At first, you walk as if your legs are broken, but the ardent emotions spur you to bolt down the street back to your house.

You fling the door open and hasten down the hallway to get up the stairs. Your father yells out to you, followed by your younger brother, whose mocking words pierce you like blunt knives.

The sobs raking your body are excruciating, aching as if your entire figure is cold rubber being pulled. It feels even worse here with all the memories.

Pictures of the three of you are everywhere: the unfished projects worked on together, and the clothes still left over from when they used to sneak in for a sleepover.

You cannot stand it; you cannot handle it.

Everything must go.

There is no carefulness or being mindful of how you handle the things in the room; you throw them into plastic bags with the full intent of being rid of everything.

Yet when you collapse to your knees to catch your breath, the necklace he gave you slips out from underneath your shirt.

The sight only provoked your wails to become silent, merely broken, stuttering wheezes as the stress spurred sleep to hold you tightly and close your eyes.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

A warm touch ran through your hair while the same heat traveled up and down your spine in a soothing manner.

"Hey, it's not good to sleep on the cold wooden ground."

Your awareness was returning, and you groaned audibly while cracking your puffy eyes open. "Mmm, Javan...?"

He hums in acknowledgment, and as your vision focuses, you see that you are moved onto your bed, the angel boy sitting at the edge as he comforts your head in his lap.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to get here, Baby." He cooed softly as the singing of grasshoppers filled your room due to the open window.

His presence, the god-like radiance, was cathartic, like the pounding of raindrops on the roof. Everything had felt so cold, and you felt so alone.

With Javan here, as he holds you, it's like heaven.

You tell him everything, everything that happened when you visited Zagan at his home. Without mentioning your feelings for him, you skidded over that part, but it wasn't needed to explain the event.

It hurts inside as if you swallowed a cluster of needles.

The angel listens silently as he continues to rub your back and send tingles through the muscle. By the time you finished, a new set of tears had befallen your face; however, your throat ached too much to wail audibly.

"I'm so sorry he did that to you. I knew he had always been rude and inconsiderate, but I didn't think he would ever try to smear my name or break your heart." He murmurs while tilting his head. "I really thought our friendship meant something to him."

You could barely nod with exhaustion interwoven in your limbs. "Me too..."

One of Javan's hands lightly grazed over your lips as he trailed it down your neck. "You know how much I care about you, right?"

【"What does it matter to you..." It's a broken cry, whimpering from your lips as your heart breaks inside regardless.

"I-" His chest decompresses while his wings descend like a deflating toy. "Baby, I care about you-"

"Then why are you lying to me!?"】

You do not trust your voice, only nodding your head as you turn over to hide your face against his abdomen.

"I cannot tell you enough about how important you are to me." Javan's hand reached down as he clasped his fingers with yours. "You are my everything, Baby. You are my sun-" He squeezed your conjoined hand. "-my moon-" Leiursurely, he leans down to hover by your ear. "-you are the air I need to breathe-" And finally, you felt the softness of his succulent lips caressing the skin of your neck. "-and the strength that lets me fly. I cannot be without you."

He kisses down your throat until he reaches your shoulder so he can hide his face in the crook of your neck. "Don't let his hurtful lies make you question our friendship, our relationship. We don't need him anyway. Right?"

When you don't reply, he pulls away and lightly swivels your head to look up at him. "Right, Baby girl? We don't need him. Can you say it?"

"W-We..." It feels as though you have no voice even to speak. No one wants to drop a friend, let alone one from childhood that was like family.

Shaking your head, you attempt to pull away; however, you are not permitted to leave. Javan maneuvers your position, with you on your back, as he leans over from above.

The beautiful white feathered wings flap lightly in the air as the moon glimmers behind him, darkening his halo.

"You can do it, Baby. I know you can." The angel boy lightly pressed his open palm on your stomach as he stared down with otherworldly eyes. "Here, I'll even say it with you."

"I-"

His hand on your belly lifts so his fingertips trail up to your neck.

"I-"

He wraps them around your throat, tingles jolting across your skin.

"-Don't-"

The angel leans down just close enough to where your nose barely touches.

"-Don't-"

You feel hot beneath your clothes as if you were lying in a sauna.

"-Need-"

Your heart hurts, filled heavily with the distraughtness of losing your best friend.

"-Need-"

The closeness...the proximity of your bodies were suffocating your lungs.

"-Him-"

It's one word, but the impact of it was greater than an asteroid colliding with the moon.

"-Him-"

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

(Y/n) - Eighteen years old

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

Even early in the morning, the common room of the high school was bustling with activity. You felt heated beneath baggy clothes as you chewed on a piece of gum.

The insides of your stomach ached as though they were eating its self alive.

With your cracked phone in hand, your fingers danced over the keyboard as you debated whether or not to double-text.

Javan has left you on read again without a single response. You've been attempting to get in contact about when you could give him the essay that he needed help with.

During senior year, you know he's busy with Track and Lacrosse, and he doesn't have the time to check in with you like he used to.

It doesn't help that it's hard to get close to him. High school does what high school does.

Angels run with run angels, devils and demons congregate together, and any other monster type sticks with their kind.

There obviously were a few outcasts, but even then, it was hard to be included. Not even mentioning how the small populations of humans weren't a fan of you. The humans said you were too close to the monster, and the monsters didn't like you because you were human.

Lose/lose situation.

Just thinking about it always puts a damper on your mood. The isolation and seclusion were nothing new; it was merely exhausting to have to do everything by yourself.

You threw the broken phone on the round table in the common room and leaned over the AP history textbook that was open. Its cold, plastic-like texture felt pleasant against your warm skin.

Sleep hasn't been gracing you for a while now. There have been just too many things to do. So much homework, more than half, not even yours. Javan already had so much on his plate. As his best friend, it felt only right to help him as much as you could.

Resting the side of your head on your arms, you stared out at the entrance of the school. More students poured into the halls as the time grew closer to the first period.

Hopefully, Javan arrives by himself, so you won't need to deal with the other angels questioning your presence.

For beings that were made to be messengers of god, they were rather concerned about their vanity. Well, that's what happens when they are left to themselves.

They become rather human in their sins.

Your already sour mood became acidic as the one person you wish you didn't have to see walked through the door.

He had to bend down from his 6'6 (198.12cm-1.9812m) height, the grown crystal horns on top of his head only causing more hassle; it nearly scraped against the already lofty door frame.

Zagan used to believe that his horns would never grow, considering his younger siblings had curled and extended way earlier than he ever did.

The demon boy was just a late bloomer.

He used to be this short, scrawny little guy who was never in the slightest popular. Many of your peers picked on him, mocking him for his appearance, calling him a pathetic excuse of a demon.

Now, he was practically the poster child. His muscles grew, making him beefy and bulky. His upper torso was wide, more specifically, his shoulders, with his chest broadening.

Through his tighter clothes, anyone could see the muscle definition of his abbs and v-line. Before, Zagan was never one for such fitted clothes; you knew he was always insecure about his skeletal limbs and hid them beneath sweats and oversized attire.

Similar to his upper body, his legs grew just as muscular and thick. They fitted dark jeans perfectly to where you could see the curves and meat beneath the cloth.

What has also changed is his hair. His blonde curls were less defined, and he cut them so they were just slightly beneath his ear.

His earlobes are now pierced and riddled with embellishments and rings. Those beautifully dangerous batty wings of his had somehow grown even larger; the width was nearly unbelievable, with the height a little past his head.

The spikes were pointier, more ominous.

At first, when he was younger, he needed to bind his abnormally large wings for his size because he didn't have the control to keep them closed or out of the way. Now, he still has to bind them only because they are so oversized that even when he curls them in, it's like he walks with a wall behind him.

Zagan Lamia went from being super nerdy and a loner to a big shot that everyone wanted to be affiliated with...everyone but the angels and you.

Now, your ex-friend ran with the other demon students. He was like a celebrity, someone the girls threw themselves at, and the boys always tried to get into his good gracious with.

Sometimes, when you look at his mature appearance, you wonder if it was you who was holding him back from his potential.

For a moment, it felt as though Zagan's scarlet red gaze rose to meet yours as he swiped his tongue over his plump bottom lip. A small black ring pierced the left side of his lip, and he appeared to fiddle with it as he neared.

Your heart abruptly skipped a beat, and the back of your neck was drenched with sweat.

It's as though he's deadset on making his way to you, but a warm hand on your neck startled you. Your head flew up as you swung your gaze in the other direction.

Javan plopped his body down in the seat beside yours and tilted his head while smiling almost coyly. "What were you looking at, Baby?"

Your stomach coils like two hot wires being twisted around each other. Glancing back swiftly, there doesn't appear to be any trace of Zadan. He's nowhere to be seen, and that's saying something.

"Nothing." You murmur softly and return your attention to the angel. "Just thought I saw something, must be my mind playing tricks on me."

He hummed slowly, staring at your phone tossed aside on the table before glancing at your face. "I can see that you haven't been sleeping. Bad dreams?" His words are laced with honey, so sweet that you devour it like a greedy little kid.

You don't want to seem incompetent by confessing that you feel overwhelmed by your workload, so you attempt to smile and nod your head. "Yeah, bad dreams and Yose's little pranks getting out of hand."

Javan laughs lightly; you're sure that he can easily imagine that annoying little menace of a brother bothering you.

Similar to Zagan, the angel had grown and matured just as much. He didn't get beefy like the demon; his build was more athletic and toned.

His muscular limbs were proportionate to his 6'2ft (188.976cm - 1.8796m) stature, the white feathered wings just as big and as tall as himself. They curled perfectly behind his back; wouldn't be a problem unless he unfurled them outwards.

That long hair of his was no more. He cut it so it was long bangs over his forehead and a mullet of some sort down the back of his neck.

There was just something about the angels and the way they dressed; they were always on trend, stylish, and attired in a manner that always made their bodies look the best.

It was like having supermodels strutting down the halls, not accounting for the succubus' or Incubi.

Realizing why you were upset in the first place, you dig through your heavy backpack to pull out your Chromebook. "Before I forget, let me send the essay to you."

Javan beamed, his ocean eyes practically glimmering as he wrapped a hand around the back of your neck. "I literally forgot. You really are a lifesaver!"

【The angel shrugs, and you roll your eyes. "This cannot be a habit, you know." His gaze is burning against the side of your face, provoking little tingles to run up your spine. "Fine...Fine, you can copy." Once you spoke, he beamed so brightly that his halo pulsated almost blindly.

He's like the sun that you could have in your arms.

"You're a lifesaver! Mom would kick my a** if I got anything below an A." He expressed with his white wings fluttering behind his back.

He's so cute.

"Yeah, yeah. If you would just stop being lazy and forgetful, you'd never have to worry." As you return your gaze to the Chromebook, you catch a glimpse of dark wings and light hair.】

It's been four years, but that memory from the courtyard in middle school suddenly flashed in your mind. So long ago, but the recollection still feels as though it were yesterday.

The loss still feels so fresh.

"Right..." You wheeze out before clearing your throat. "What are your plans today? I've been wanting to get out of the house and go somewhere other than work."

J appears to think intently, his gaze almost out of focus, before he shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. "I don't think I can. The community is meeting up at the grand church for a ceremony tonight."

The dejection is evident, your shoulders sagging, but it's what you expected. He's ever so busy; you should be more considerate of his schedule.

Humming, you sent over the documents through email as you kept your gaze away from meeting his. "Are you still going to senior formal?" You question just to start a conversation.

It's been weeks since you've actually been able to speak face-to-face with him. You're soaking his attention in as much as you can.

"Yeah, I wasn't gonna go, but the others convinced me."

"Oh~?" Your lips form into a faux smile. "Javan Wyn was peer pressured?"

The hand on the back of your was removed to flick at your forehead. "I don't get peer pressured." He stated, which spurred you to roll your eyes.

"Alright, whatever you say, Angel Boy. Do you have at least a date?"

"No."

The heat beneath your baggy clothes grew worse, and a sudden surge of anxiety flushed through your bloodstream. "Are you going to ask someone?"

You don't know whether you want him to say yes or no. He's so handsome, his appearance nearly a blessing of god. It's astounded you that he isn't in a relationship.

Everyone flocks to him.

And you're still in love with him after twelve years.

"Hmm." He leans over the table and rests his chin in the palm of his hand. "I haven't really put any thought into it."

A breath of air you hadn't realized you were holding in was released as you laughed. What did you expect?

He's never voiced anything about liking any of the girls at the school, and you'd know. Best friends tell each other everything.

"Well, if you come up with someone in mind, won't you tell me first?" You offer while leisurely closing your Chromebook.

"Sure, Baby. You'll be the first to know." Javan laughs under his breath while swiping a loose strand of hair over to behind your ear. Doing so, he was able to see a very small hair clip you had to keep some frays out of your face.

"What's this?" He questions, and you're unable to meet his gaze.

You immediately remove the clip and conceal it within the palm of your hand. "Oh! I-It's nothing. I just forgot to take it out. My hair was just getting in the way."

Whatever the angel says goes a long way for you. If he says a certain color looks good on you, you're altering your whole theme.

When he tells you, 'I really like it when you wear baggy clothes. You don't look good when you wear anything tight.' You change your entire wardrobe, so maybe he'll like you more.

Maybe his eyes would linger on you more when you listen when he says, 'Don't wear make-up, you look so much better bare-faced. Make-up just doesn't fit someone like you.'

Perhaps he'll tell you he likes the way you look when you do your hair just the way he likes it. 'It's ugly when you put those clips in your hair, ya know. I only like girls who keep their hair up in a bun. Yeah, yeah, that suits you much better.'

You would do anything for him.

"Don't forget next time." Javan reprimands and reaches for the colorful metal clip in your hand. "It's ugly when you wear it."

Your throat tightens, constricting with the sensation of sobbing, attempting to force its way through. But you swallow it down and nod your head with a small, frantic smile. "Of course."

His warm fingers graze over your palm to take the clip in his own and leans back to aim and toss it in the garbage can against the wall. "There." He murmurs while turning back to face you with a gleaming smile. "You look so much better when you're like this."

Simple, he likes it when you appear simple and clean. He likes it when you wear ill-fitting clothes, even when it's hot, and you're swathed in sweat. He likes it when you tie your hair up, fringes, and lose hair gelled back.

He likes it when you do nothing more.

The bell rings, which draws his attention as well as that of other students who scatter to get to class on time. The angel stands and pats your face lightly while grazing his thumb over your lip.

Your entire stomach is doing front lips, and you could melt in his angelic touch.

"I'll see you around, Baby." And with that, he departs from the common area to leave you alone just as you were before.

It was nice while it lasted, but all good things must come to an end.

"See you around, Javan." It whispers from your lips as you shift in your seat to collect your things.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

You hate that sensation, the feeling of chlorine in your hair. Even as you try to scrub and wash it out after aquatic fitness, that awful tacky and dry sensation sticks to every strand.

It sucks, considering how much you enjoyed swimming. Weightless, fluid, as if you're flying away from here. The way your hands split the water, the manner in which your body glides through it so easily, drives all your worries to melt away.

Shutting off the shower in the female locker room, you reach for your towels and wrap them around your body and hair.

There should still be at least ten more minutes before the bell rings for the end of class. You can take a little bit of time to look presentable-ish.

As you enter the lockers, it appears that all the other girls had finished before you, already gone. Not that you minded either; you didn't like their eyes on your body, judging in the way they always do.

You're just a little human in a world of monsters.

Sighing, you undid the code to the lock and opened the locker. Instead of seeing your change of clothes and other items, it was bare.

Not a single object or article of clothing.

Your entire stomach filled with dread, and dropped to your knees.

"Awe, whatever happened to your clothes~?" It's a sickeningly sweet voice that originated behind you. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as your heart skips a beat.

Laughing lightly even though you desire to scream, you remove the towel from your hair and slowly turn around. "I just can't seem to keep my things together."

It's suffocating, standing in only thin, short clothes as six other students surround you, four angels and two humans.

Water trickled down your neck while you swallowed thickly.

"Oh, we agree." One of the angels expresses and steps forward. "Which is why you need to learn a lesson~!" She's so pretty; is such a shame her personality is rotten.

You latched onto the front of your towel as you stepped back, only for the locker to shock you with the contrast of heat.

"I-I'm sure I'm innocent." You're losing your voice, becoming guttural like you had been screaming it away. "What did I do?"

A human girl latches her hand on your bicep and tugs you so hard that you nearly slip on the cold concrete ground.

"You need to be reminded of your place."

Before you can attempt to de-escalate the situation, your other arm is latched onto, and you're being dragged away.

There is no grip on your bare feet that you are just sliding on the floor. You can only hold onto that thin towel to keep even a bit of your modesty.

"Stop it! Hey!" They bring you closer to the exit, where loud chattering emanates from. Classmates and other students must fill the large open area where the hallway had opened up for gatherings.

Your elbow slams back, knocking into one of the girl's noses. She gasps, and blood immediately begins to trickle down.

She licks it while a terrifying sneer forms on her plump lips. "You bitch!" Her hand latches onto the back of your knotted, wet hair as two others open the door.

They managed to drag you through the door and thrust you outwards so you fall forward. You're barely able to catch yourself, striking your knees on tile that immediately spurred an onset of blood to stream down your shins.

Laughter...Laughter reverberates outwards, so loud that the vibrations echo beneath the ground.

You feel sick.

The one you had hit grasped onto the back of your hair again. She tugged your head upwards to look at everyone while also grabbing onto the bottom of your jaw.

At least more than half of your grade had congregated in this massive area, and they surrounded you like a school of fish.

"Look, everyone! It's the girl who thinks she's better than us!"

Ice runs through your veins, so cold that it's a burning sensation. The insides of your throat swell up, depriving you of air.

You're scared.

You're humiliated.

They're laughing at you, their giggles and cheers so deafening it's as though they are bursting your eardrums.

"Come on!" A different girl locks onto your wrist and pulls you to your feet with her pure strength. "Where did all that entitlement go!?"

Not even a second after you are standing, were you kicked down and forced to collapse on your bruised and rived knees.

A strangled gasp wheezed from your lips as the inner corner of your eyes stung. Tears clouded your conjunctiva before trickling down your heated face.

"Doesn't she deserve a little humility!?" Courses of 'yes' and cheers echo like the booms of fireworks. They begin chanting...chanting to take everything away.

These people wanted to ruin you.

Your hand holding up the towel was yanked away as another gripped the cloth to tear it off your body.

"No!" Just as you finally release your voice, a vociferous snapping sound overtakes the shouting and replaces it with gasps.

Scarlet red eyes meet your gaze as his wings tear apart the binds and extend outwards, knocking nearly half the crowd to the ground.

He practically teleported in front of your figure to yank you up to your feet by one of your wrists and hold you tight to his body.

The massive size of his wings is not just for show as he flaps them; the force sends everyone tumbling away, skidding across the ground and hitting the walls.

You cannot breathe, even with your lungs expanding and retracting vigorously and your mouth gulping in the air like a fish; lightheadedness only grows more intense.

Zagan's burly arm wraps firmly around your back as he hauls you back into the locker room, the male locker room.

A clamorous cry echoes out from your lips as you grip his shirt, burrowing your nails in his thick, muscled waist. You didn't mean to cry, to wail out and release this visceral wail that rattles through your entire being.

He doesn't say a single word, merely picking your much smaller figure into a bridal position. His body heat contrasted against the chill of your damp person in such a way that you immediately succumb to his warm hold.

To be against his body brings back so many memories, all before the fallout, before the trio became nothing anymore.

You've missed him so much.

Why did it have to be this way?

The strength of your sobs worsens, racking through your bones. Zagan's wings surround the two of you, blocking out the light and muffling the sounds from outside.

It's only the quiet hum of the internal conditioning and your blustering cries. Your face is hidden against his pecs, wetting his shirt, but he doesn't seem to mind.

He only continues to hold you like you're a cracked vase, precious, broken, and needing his undivided attention.

Even though your nose is stuffed, this close proximity and protective surroundings of his wings allow you to smell his scent.

Zagan smells like an early dawning, with fog concealing the world and honeydew drops garnishing the grass.

This is not the smell of heaven, but damn, does it feel like paradise.

Soon, without a single word being spoken, your cries cease to become hiccups and whimpers. Strength has dissipated from your muscles, leaving your entire being exhausted.

You just want to fall asleep and never wake up.

The demon boy leans his head down, and though it is void of light while swathed in his batty wings, you can feel his gaze on your face.

His one arm under your shoulder gingerly pushed up upwards so you were sitting on his lap. He held onto your bare thigh while allowing your head to rest on his shoulder.

There are tingles erupting beneath his fingers that ignite your nerves. You've never been touched like this before.

"Better?" Not the voice of an angel, not the singing of the devil; it's something entirely different. Deeper, coarser, it's manly and rugged.

The sound of it reminds you of a rustic cabin, lost in the woods with a fire burning in a stone pit. Everything, from the foundation to the wiring, was done by hand.

It feels personal.

Slackly, with barely any strength, you nod your head and raise a hand to swipe at your face.

"...You...You still have it."

It is obvious what he's referring to; that cold pendant abruptly feels warm at the mention of the necklace. You hadn't the heart to remove it or to throw it away.

Doing so would be completely removing him from your life, even more than he already was. "Yeah..." You didn't want to tell him anymore.

You can't tell him that sometimes you'd grip that necklace and pray that everything would revert back to the way it used to be. Or that you'd run your fingers on the engraving on the back, remembering when he was always there for you...always there until that event.

Feeling him nod his head, his massive spiked wings part very carefully to let in the light. Zagan stands up to place your body in the spot he was just sitting in and strides over to a wall of lockers.

The way he just manhandles you sends shivers across your stomach and farther down.

He undoes the lock and shuffles through a bag before turning to face your figure. You can't believe the man standing in front of you is Zagan.

This is really the same nerd who had to look up at you; now you have to crane your neck even to meet his gaze.

It's really been four years without even acknowledging one another.

"Here, It's obviously not going to fit, but it's better than nothing." Zagan murmurs as he steps closer to lay a set of clothes on your lap.

That sweater...he still had that same dark red sweater that you bought him once at the mall. You said it went well with his eyes, made them as bright as stars.

It most definitely doesn't fit him now, which means he's kept it even after he had finally developed.

"I'm going to turn around to make sure no one comes in while you change."

His speech breaks you from your thoughts. You peek upwards just as he folds his wings and trekks over to the locker room door.

You feel more self-conscious now with Zagan's back turned than you did in front of the other students. The tips of your ears are burning along with your cheeks.

It's almost like the clothes are made of glass the way you gently handle them and set them on the seat as you stand. Your body has long dried after the shower, yet you keep the towel over your shoulder as you shuffle on his attire.

The sweater was soft, lined with cushiony fabric that felt nice against your skin. Without a bra or support system, you were lucky it was rather oversized and thick to obscure your chest.

Next is the pair of black fleece sweatpants. You end up fitting it well; you're definitely sure that this was from when he was smaller.

Luckily, there's a drawstring that you end up tying to tighten at your waist.

"I'm done." You meant for your voice to be firm, but it's gravelly and coarse, as if you need to clear your throat.

He tilts his head back to look, but he audibly sucks in a breath of air before flinging his head in another direction. One hand covers his mouth as the other holds onto the wall for support

Your brows crease tightly, and your fingers form into fists in the sleeves that are too long for you. "Is something wrong?"

It took a short moment for him to clear his throat. He shook his head as if he were freeing himself from thoughts while extending a large, coarse hand outward. "Grab my hand, and I'll take you home."

It's as though he steals the air right out of your lungs.

After everything? After what you said to him, after dropping him...he's still caring for you.

You want to hit him. If only he didn't accuse Javan of what he said, nothing would have changed.

"I-I can go home on my own." You state, yet it only prompts him to click his tongue and step forward.

He immediately dwarfs your smaller stature by his much larger one. The demon peers down with an unknown expression, one where you can't even tell what he's thinking.

Those gorgeous wings of his softly flutter to gain your attention just as one corner of his succulent lips quirk upwards. "And miss the chance to fly?"

How right he was.

As kids, you begged them to take you flying. One of them would hold you close and raise you to the sky so you could feel utterly weightless.

Nothing mattered while you soared, not your f*cked up family, not your unrequited love, nothing at all but that freedom.

You haven't felt it in four years because Javan was always too busy and Zagan...

"Fine." It whispers from your lips as you shift your gaze away. "Just home, please."

His small, angled eyes squinted as if he knew what you were thinking while he nodded his head. "Let's go." He states and reaches for one of your hands.

That warmth surrounds you again as he holds on tight and departs from the male locker room. It's empty within the common area; seems that everyone knew better to leave than to stick around and face the poster boy's wrath.

It's sunny outside as you both exit through a side door. The sun is high, with a few fluffy white clouds clumped together. You were maneuvered into a new position, one where Zagan held your body in the bridal position again before taking off.

Those massive wings of his are so powerful, so strong that he could probably outfly any fighter jet. He's arrived in the sky in the blink of an eye.

Wind is whipping around your baby hairs and striking against your face, yet you welcome the little stings.

You're light, fluid, and weighed down by nothing in this moment. Zagan's flying through the clouds, allowing your fingers to feel the slight chill and moisture like before.

It earned a laugh from your lips, a genuine one that hasn't graced your face in a long, long time. The demon's grip grew tighter at the sound of laughter and peeked down at your face.

Your eyes met for a second, and his lips parted as though he desired to speak, but they shut upon arriving in your neighborhood.

Not yet; you didn't want to go home just yet.

"We could fly around a little longer." Your eyes fling upwards to meet his as he swallows. "If you want, that is."

No, no, you don't want to go home at all.

You feel an ache in your stomach, a burn in your eyes, and a pressure in your throat.

Doesn't he hate you at all?

"Just...Just take me home, please." You spoke a lie, and god should have struck you down right then and there.

How is it that you both look-feel so dejected?

The scarlet-eyed demon descends from his high place in the sky to your window on the second floor. You manage to crack it open before slipping inside and shifting around to face the dirty blond-haired man.

He hovered in his spot, taking in the view of your bedroom after so long. All the pictures of him are gone; all the gifts he's given you are nowhere in sight.

"I'll uh-" His tongue fiddles with the lip ring as he drops his gaze. "I'll get your bag from school and bring it over."

You want to tell him not to worry about it, but you do not trust your voice, so you merely nod your head.

Zagan mimics your action and lightly taps the windowsill before flying away. Your puffy eyes follow and watch his figure until he's too far to be seen.

Too far gone.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

When Zagan returned from gathering your things from the school, he lightly tapped on your window to gain your attention.

However, he received no response, none at all. The blinds were pulled together so that he couldn't see inside...nor feel your presence.

The demon knocked again, a little louder this time, with again no response. He reacted without thinking, thrusting up the old window and nearly tearing off the blinds.

It was the same as he saw earlier: slightly messy, books splayed open, clothes folded but not put away, yet there was something different.

On the bench by the window was the folded set of clothes he allowed you to wear...and a note on top. His fingers were shaky for some reason, filled with dread as if he were inches away from death.

Flipping it open displayed just a few words with messy handwriting, like writing in a rush.

《

I'm sorry, I can't do this anymore goodbye

》

The paper tore in his grasp while the pair of fangs in his mouth elongated and sharpened. Every muscle within his body tensed and constricted.

F*ck, f*ck, f*ck!

This can't be happening!

You can't be gone!

He tried to control his breathing, attempting to calm himself just the slightest so he could figure out where the f*ck you had gone.

But your scent is decamped with not a trace of or trail leading anywhere. Even your presence, the very feeling of your soul, is nowhere close.

He can't feel it, he can't feel you.

After years of saying it, knowing you so well, even after four years of disregarding each other, he knows you did it.

You ran away.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

(Y/n) - Twenty-Two Years Old

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

Continuing on in pt.2

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

Short and dramatic, but it's better than nothing, right? This had been in the drafts for a long time, but I decided to break it up into 2 parts just to get it out. It also allows me to focus on the second act of the story.

This is setting up for pt.2, where all the drama is going to unfold. The reader gets found and realizes the truth, more daddy Zagan screen time (he's gonna be in a gang hehe), and Javan is confronted. There's gonna be fistfights, tears, and a lot of sl*tty demon s*x.

Psst, I'll let you in on a little secret. The Lamia household has lots of siblings, right? Well, certain demons have a little...hmm, how do I say this...have a breeding trait passed down through generations. Jahi has it, which explains the seven children, and well...Zagan's very much like his mother.

Which makes him a 'Breeding Bull'. So that's something to look forward to in pt.2 ;)

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

↳If you'd like to support me or read 30+ drafts of TDMLM or my other stories, please consider buying me Kofi. You can find the link on my profile! Thank you :)

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

𝐌𝐚𝐦𝐚 signing out

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rinsvg · 5 months

Text

┊͙✧˖*°࿐ Yes, and? | Getou suguru

warnings: actor!getou, cheater!getou, reader knows Getou has a wife (doesn’t really care), singer!reader, female masturbation, fingering, clit stimulation, oral, slight nipple play, reader sucks getou off underwater, slight jokes abt getou being kinda voyeuristic,reader is apathetic towards the wife,reader is kinda an asshole, reader is written as a black woman anyone can read though!!!

Tag: @cindol

Yes, you knew he was married, and yes, you also knew before going into this you were breaking up a “healthy” home, but you also didn’t particularly care; you had needs just like any average girl. You couldn’t help it if the only way they can get satisfied is through a man—a married one at that.

You were walking through the hallway of getou vacation home, his getaway from hell, as he likes to call it. The one place where the two of you could meet in secret—well, you didn’t really care for it, hiding away from the tabloids, the paparazzi, and the reporters. You didn’t have a care in the world for it. Really, why do you have to hide it? Why should it be anyone’s business who’s dick you ride anyway?

But you also knew there was more to it than just hiding away from the paparazzi; he was trying to hide it from the one person whom he doesn’t want to know about his weekly escapades: his wife, his darling wife, the woman who spends her nights home alone while her husband fucks another woman. You always wondered what went through her head sometimes.

I mean, really, how doesn’t she know what he does during the weeks he spends away from home? Where the hell does she think he is? You didn’t know, nor did you practically care; you were still going to be fucking him regardless while she stayed home ignorant of it all. Sometimes you feel bad for the poor girl, her darling husband, as she likes to call him in her interviews, cheating on her with another woman while she’s home alone awaiting his arrival. Yeah, you almost felt bad, but also, it really wasn’t your business; she wasn’t your friend, so it's not like you owe her anything.

You pushed open the door to the master room you two were currently staying in as you saw Getou sitting on the bed, head in his head. He came in here hours ago after the two of you returned from the market in a hurry after you were spotted by a fan with a camera who walked up to you asking for a picture. As soon as getou spotted you leaning in to take the picture, Getou grabbed your hand in a hurry before rushing out of the market like his ass was on fire.

You were going to give the girl a picture and an autograph before leaving. Honestly, you didn’t understand. It's not like he didn’t know the two of you were famous before he got into this situation with you. Of course, you were bound to get spotted by fans eventually.

As soon as you asked him this, he got angry, yelling and bitching to you about his wife and his reputation as an actor—two things you truly didn’t give a damn about. It’s not like the both of you weren’t getting things out of this little “relationship” you got, so as far as you were concerned, you didn’t give a damn about his reputation or his wife.

“I don’t understand you,” you leaned against the wall. “Why are you so mad right now? Is it because of the fan? Oh, don’t tell me you're scared; she might’ve caught a picture of us as we were leaving. I didn't think it was possible, seeing as though how fast you were running outta there.” You chuckled as you tilted your head back. “Or are you scared it’s going to get out and make its way back around to your wife?”

“You truly don’t care, do you?" A sharp intake of breath was all you heard from him as he got up and strolled towards you, his face pulled of any indication of his anger. You didn't know if it was because he was an actor or if he just didn't care. "No, not really, if we’re speaking honestly here,” you shrugged as you pushed off the wall to meet him halfway.

“And what will the tabloids think about this—about us, mmh, sweet girl?" A hand brushed your hair back. "Well, for a couple of months, the blogs will talk, but after that, they’ll be on to the next thing, like always. It’s not like they’ll stop listening to my music; people say they would, but we both know they wouldn't." You tilted your head to the side, eyes low with interest. Was his voice always this hot to you?

"Well, I do. I’m a married man with a wife, and I'm a well-established actor. I’ll be ruined.” Getou spoke while rubbing his hands up and down your back slowly and sensually, like all things he does in life. "Hmm, and yet you continuously have sex with me; even with all those factors, quite a contradiction you have here." You honestly find it hard to care when he says those things.

You brushed past him before saying your next words: "Well, while you continue to sit here and throw yourself a pity party, I’ll be in the hot tub. Do join me when you’re over this little funk." And with that, you were gone to change and make your way downstairs to the hot tub, not really giving him a chance to say anything afterwards. I mean, why should you? You just gave him an offer; you knew he wouldn’t refuse being the man that he is.

You slowly stripped from your bikini cover, making a show of it. You knew he was watching you; he once laughed and called you conceited after you told him you knew of his voyeuristic tendencies. He never denied it, though.

You lowered yourself into the water until you was submerged up to your clavicle. letting out a long sigh of relief as the warm water relaxed your abused muscles.

You picked up the remote to the hot tub and pressed the button that had a picture of bubbles. You let out a low moan as you felt the bubbles hitting against your clit, you couldn't lie and say it didn't feel good. It was weird that the bubbles were positioned right under your clit almost as if they were designed that way.

You pressed the increase button, and the bubbles came out faster. You suddenly became horny as you moved your hand down to your clit and rubbed it softly while biting your lips. You knew he was watching, and it was only a matter of time before he grew restless. You moved your bikini panties to the side as your fingers rubbed your clit up and down, You slowly inched a finger in and out of yourself at a slow and steady pace.

"Mmm," you moaned lightly as you speeded up your pace a little.

You closed your eyes as your hands massaged your breast and pinched your nipples. The bubbles were still massaging your clit as you pumped your fingers in and out faster. mouth dropping as you felt yourself so close to exploding as your heart race increased as you felt his body sink slowly in front of you before you could do or say anything. You felt soft kisses being placed on your neck. You turned around and gave him a sly smile while massaging his neck with your hands.

You pressed your lips against his for a searing kiss that was even hotter than the water. Placing your hands on his shoulders, you applied pressure until he gave into your wishes and sat down.You straddled his lap and could feel his hard cock pressing up against your ass, you denied him immediate entrance, wanting to take your time with him.

You rubbed your hands up and down his well-defined pectoral muscles, spreading warm water all over his chest.You began to massage his shoulders, and getou moaned at the feeling of your hands and the warm water on his weary body.

Getou put his hand between them under the water in an effort to join your naked bodies, but you stopped him.“Not yet. While we're here I'll like to try something.”

You ran your hands down his chest and then over his abs, finally settling them on his thighs. You spread his legs apart and took a deep breath before diving under.

You'd never given head underwater before, but you were eager to give it a shot. Being in a "relationship" with Getou had allowed you to broaden your sexual knowledge, which you couldn't accomplish with other men.

You hummed as you wrapped your mouth over his firm cock, blowing a little but continuous stream of air out of your nose to keep as much water as possible out of your mouth.

The vibrations from your humming contributed to the experience, causing Getou to squirm in your presence.

You sank your claws into his chiseled ass to keep him still while bobbling your head up and down on his cock.

You continued your blowjob after a few seconds.

"Fuc-ck!" Getou moaned in delight. Getou could feel the unmistakable symptoms that he was going to come, but he didn't want to drown you, so he tapped on your arm to signal his impending release, figuring you would need to breathe. However, you did not stop. Instead, you increased your efforts and sucked on him even harder. "Darling, ah! I'm about to cum; you need to come up for air!"

You heard him but didn’t listen. You were determined to see your job through to completion.

“Sweet girl, you need to breathe!” he pleaded.

You were running out of air and knew that he was right, but you desperately wanted to make him cum in your mouth. You added a hand to stroke the base of his cock and fondle his balls, and that’s what did him in.

“Fucking hell!” he shouted your name like it was a prayer as he came into your mouth.

You released his cock from your mouth and finally came up for air. You spat out his load mixed with hot tub water, coughing a few times and taking deep breaths to get some much-needed oxygen in your system.

After catching your breath, you couldn't help but let out a laugh. “That was fun, wasn’t it?" Getou raised an eyebrow. “You almost drowned.” "Yeah, but it was still fun.”

“Stand up and turn around, and we can have some more fun, yeah." He didn’t have to tell you twice, you would be stupid to deny a good offer.

Getou was too busy sinking to his knees to hear the flashing of a camera going off. You did though, wondering if you should tell him or not before eventually coming to the conclusion to let it be. You knew his darling wife would hear about it in the tabloids first thing in the morning, but again, it’s not like you give a damn.

#➶ ͙˚ ༘✶ ( 𝒥𝓊𝓅𝒾𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀𝓈 )#getou suguru x black reader #geto suguru x black reader #getou suguru #geto smut #jujustu kaisen x black reader #jujustu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #this is heavily inspired by the song yes and by Ariana grande and also the scandal sure her 😭#yes it’s kinda messy I know

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eldritch-nightmare · 9 months

Note

Had smth in mind based on those Jeff Headcannons you did,,,,,What about The Doll Maker or Bloody Painter(or both idk I’m indecisive) yandere Headcannons but with a willing reader,,,Thought abt that while listening to Ayesha Erotica, idk how

a/n: your wish is my command. going with the bloody painter since i haven't really written much for him here yet. this one got away from me a bit. sorry if it's messy, but i hope you find enjoyment from it nonetheless <3

yandere bloody painter with a willing s/o.

warnings: gn!reader, yandere content, puppeteer cameo bc why not, crush at first... smile?, reader goes to an art school, reader has some questionable morals, stalking, possessive behavior, murder, blood, breaking and entering, the public nor authorities doesn't know that helen is the bloody painter in this btw, morbid painting, a brief description of gore, idk art so sorry if i describe it incorrectly.

Oh, man. I can see him behaving in two different ways. One is the way he'd behave around you if you were there in his childhood and the other is if he met you after everything happened. For this, we'll focus on how he behaves after everything happened.

Helen is very emotionally reserved and pretty apathetic, to be honest with you. It's very difficult to get close to him. I like to think that you two met while he was getting some more art supplies.

He saw you struggling to pick between two paints and, being the artist that he is, he decided to do something a little nice for once and help you out.

And, a little bit to his surprise, that led to a rather lengthy conversation about art as you detailed to him the art project you were working on and how you really weren't sure what direction you wanted to take it because the prompt given to you didn't give you any ideas.

And as we all know, Helen is nothing if not an artist. So, obviously, he listens to every little detail you provide him and offers some advice that may help you out before you two go your separate ways.

And--

Huh. Why'd his chest suddenly feel all warm at the sight of your smile?

He finds himself drawing your smiling face later, thinking that maybe the warm feeling in his chest was just a random burst of inspiration. I mean, he is an artist after all. Inspiration tends to strike at the most random times.

His dear friend seems to think otherwise.

"Aw, does Helen have a little crush?" -> "If you don't have anything of value to say, then please keep your mouth shut."

He doesn't have a crush on you. Not that he knows what it's like to have a crush, I mean he's never been in love before, but he doesn't. No way.

Then he sees you again, and damn. I guess The Puppeteer was right. He does have a crush. Oh well. He accepts this revelation immediately and comes to terms with this newfound feeling rather quickly.

It's just a small crush, one that he's sure will go away soon. But he's never felt this way before, and the feeling leaves him curious, so he finds himself actively seeking you out.

He doesn't consider it to be stalking at first, just... studying. But then he follows you home one day, and he realizes that maybe these feelings of his aren't as small as he thought they were.

Does he feel bad for stalking you? I think, momentarily, he questions why he's doing this but... he's not a great guy in the first place. He does kill people and use their blood as paint, after all.

And you're aware that someone is watching you. You can feel eyes on you most nights. You should be scared, you know that, but... for some reason, you don't. If anything, you start leaving your blinds open more often.

Helen will sometimes even sketch you while he watches you. The way you hold yourself and the way you move around... it just makes him want to capture every moment he can in his sketchbook. He even briefly considers picking up photography as a hobby the longer he watches you, but he decides to just stick with his own form of art.

But he really likes it when he gets to see you make your own art.

And that's when he breaks into your home for the first time. You were out with some friends, and when you came home, you noticed your door was unlocked. At first, you didn't really think much of it, but when you went to your room, you couldn't help but feel as if something were off.

It took you a while, but you soon discovered that some of your drawings were missing. Thankfully, none of the ones you drew for class were missing.

You had no means of contacting your stalker, which you suppose is a good thing, so instead you just wrote on a piece of paper and taped it to your window.

'Glad you like my drawings.'

And the next day, taped on the outside of your window was a little doodle of a smiley face.

You didn't give this odd relationship much thought, to be honest. You thought it was kinda cute that this random stranger seemed to derive some type of joy from watching you. He hasn't done anything to hurt you, and his intentions don't seem malicious, so you honestly had no problem with it.

Of course, your friends definitely thought it was weird. They think that you need to report your stalker to the police, but you choose to ignore their concerns. You reassure them that if you ever feel as if you're life is in any danger, you'll inform the authorities about what's happening.

So, it goes on like this for a while. Helen would mostly stick to watching you from afar, but sometimes he'd break into your place while you're sleeping just to get a closer look at you. Sometimes, you'll wake up and there will be a drawing of you on your nightstand. You keep those drawings tucked away safely in one of the many empty sketchbooks you own.

Then a... domino effect of sorts took place.

You started going to a new café since it was closer to where you lived and closer to the school you attended. -> There's a cute barista there who always flirts with you whenever you buy a coffee or get yourself a treat. -> You humored their behavior because you thought it was cute, so you would flirt back sometimes. -> It became routine, and a couple weeks into the routine, the barista just up and vanished.

You thought they had quit, but you overheard some of the other employees at the café whispering about how they hadn't heard anything from them.

Something that should have been completely unrelated, you lose your red paint. You can't find it anywhere.

Continuing on with the domino effect, a day or two goes by and you hear on the news that the barista you had been flirting with was found dead in their home, drained dry of their blood. The police believe this to be another victim of The Bloody Painter.

You wouldn't have thought much of it, but then you notice a note taped to your window.

'There's a gift for you in your kitchen.'

And when you went to your kitchen, you saw a container resting on the counter. It wasn't translucent or see-through, so you couldn't see inside of it, but there was another note resting on top of it.

'I saw you were out of red paint, so I got you some more. We should meet up this week and paint together, don't you think? I'd love to see what you can create with this.'

And the note wasn't signed with a smiley face this time. It was signed with a name.

Helen Otis.

You set the note to the side and one quick look inside the container told you that he had given you blood to use as paint.

It didn't take you long to piece together what was going on here. The blood he had given you was no doubt the blood of the barista who had been murdered, which means... your stalker was that serial killer that's been all over the news these past few months.

The person who has been breaking into your home and leaving you those drawings was a serial killer. And he... he trusted you enough to tell you his name?

Holy shit, that's a lot to take in.

You should be panicking. Hell, you should be calling the police to let them know about all of this. You'd be doing the world some good if you did that, and it would save a lot of lives.

But your gaze drifts back to the note, and your mind wanders to all the drawings he's made of you, and... this was just so...

Cute. It felt romantic, even.

He killed a person you had been flirting with and gave you their blood as a gift. That has to be his way of letting you know that you were his.

You didn't even think about what you were going to do. You took the container of blood and you took it to your room. It didn't take you long to set up a tarp on the ground since it was no doubt going to drip onto your floor and you really didn't need blood stains in your carpet.

And you searched up a reference of what you wanted to paint, and you immediately got to work.

Later that night, while you were sleeping peacefully in your bed, Helen was breaking into your home for the nth time.

The reason why is because you had left a note for him to see on your window, one that had certainly caught his attention.

There's a gift for you in the kitchen.

You've never left him a gift before, so his curiosity was certainly piqued.

He made sure to be quiet as he made his way to your kitchen, not wanting to wake you up. He wasn't ready to meet you. Not yet.

When he gets to your kitchen, he certainly wasn't really expecting to see a canvas resting on the counter, a white sheet covering whatever was painted on it. A sticky note was placed on the sheet as well, and Helen stepped closer to it to read it.

This is what it looked like, right?

p.s. I'm willing to take you up on that offer.

And on the corner of the sticky note, there was a small smiley face doodle. How cute.

With the note read, Helen wasted no time carefully removing the sheet from the canvas, a subtle excitement coursing through his veins.

And... oh. Oh, you're as fucked up as him, aren't you?

What he sees is a downright devastatingly beautiful piece of work.

The painting was completely done with just the blood he had given you, with a few pencil marks for shading, and it depicted the murder he had committed just a few days prior.

He imagines that it was rather easy to find a photo of the crime scene online, but you were somehow able to capture the scene perfectly and you weren't ever there.

From the way the body was hanging upside down from the ceiling, a few buckets underneath it to collect the blood dripping from it. The way lifeless look in their eyes that you had done with a pencil... the gashes all over their body...

You had passed the test he had set up for you.

He took this as a sign of acceptance. A sign that you wanted to be his. You wouldn't keep the blood and make such a masterpiece with it if you didn't, right?

A slight smile formed on his face at the thought, and he stood there and admired the art you had made for him.

Hmm... maybe he'll stick around until you wake up...

#tanuukiiii #the bloody painter x reader #the bloody painter x you #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #yandere x reader #yandere bloody painter #yandere bloody painter x reader #yandere creepypasta #yandere creepypasta x reader

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atierrorian · 11 months

Text

Personal Maid? Nah, Personal pillow

Context: You met Leona back when you were kids being his personal servant and apparently his personal pillow.

Warnings: Spoilers for Leona's backstory, mentions of negligence, being compared, ooc.

Note: Ya'll are crazy!! 300+ followers? I never thought I'd make it this far! So thank you guys for supporting me, I really really appreciate it!!

Back then, you were discordant being the personal maid of an entitled and spoiled second prince. you've heard a lot of rumors that he was apathetic and aloof. And despite accepting the fact that you would be a servant, you didn't want to be a servant to someone whose personality was like that.

But what choice did you have in the matter? No, your opinion didn't matter and you knew so you kept quiet and just complained in your head instead.

When you met him, you thought the rumors were true as he didn't seem interested or just kept quiet and always had a frown on his face. But the more you kept spending more and more time with him, the more you realized the rumors were all untrue.

Sure he was still kinda apathetic and somewhat true to the rumors, but it was only because he was neglected and the fact he was always compared to his brother only because he was the second prince and not the heir.

It wasn't fair, you both knew that but it was the rules, traditions, and stuff like that. But it didn't mean they had to go and neglect him just because he was the second prince and compare him to his brother, that's just adding salt to his wounds.

Everywhere you went, you'd always hear them whisper behind your back. "Falena is going to be a great King one day!" "Why is Leona always so lazy?" "Falena is better than Leona in every aspect" "I feel so sorry for the child that has to serve him until death."

You scoffed, that was none of their business. They all know nothing of Leona, why should they judge someone if they don't even know the person personally? That was what always irked you, all these rumors circulating around Leona about him being cruel when in fact it was the opposite. Sure he could be jealous but that's just how he is due to his life.

Everyone misjudged him because he wasn't the heir, he was the second prince. But it isn't even his fault that he was born a second prince. You didn't need to neglect or compare him.

So that's why you always stayed by his side, you may not understand what Leona feels but you'd learn to support him and always have his back over the years. Although everyone may wonder why you always stuck to him for so long and thought it was a miracle that you could put up with Leona.

Yes, Leona was a handful at times and was always lazy and kinda irresponsible, but he still tried to make some effort of being with you and always kinda attending to his duties at some times when he felt like it. And always made an effort of avoiding his family.

You smiled as you walked through the empty hallways of the NRC, you were very proud of Leona and his accomplishments, although you did became quite worried when he was becoming competitive with the famous Malleus Draconia.

My ears twitch and my tail swayed, you knew Leona didn't like being second place, for all you both knew he was always second place in every aspect of his life and always being compared.

But currently, your objective was to find Leona, wherever he was but you had a feeling you knew where he was.

You sighed, Leona really is going to be the death of you.

"I swear when I get my hands on him..." you grumbled, you were quite unhappy that you had to find Leona again. Where even is Ruggie when you need him? Sevens he's been a great help to you and you were able to take a breather every once in a while.

All's well that ends well I suppose.

you entered the botanical Garden and tried to spot Leona.

"I know he's here somewhere... This is literally where he mostly naps." you thought as you searched for him, hoping to find Leona, or where ever the fuck he is.

"Wherever Leona is, I swear I will put him in a chokehold!"

The botanical garden was beautiful, filled with numerous gardens, beautiful scenery, decorations, and lovely fragrances. Plants were hanging around the walls, and pots were hanging from the branches. you swear you could admire it all day if you could.

But no, you have to find the big cat.

And as if luck was on your side, you managed to spot a swishing tail and instantly knew it was Leona.

"Gotcha!"

I snuck up on him and sat down next to him, Strange, normally he would out to me and figure out that I was trying to sneak up on him, this was unusual. But why should I complain now?

"Leonaaa, wake uuuupp, pleaseee, I know you can hear me right?" I said in a whiny voice, trying to get him up and annoy him until he sits right back up. I tried poking him but suddenly a hand caught my wrist and I jolted slightly back.

It was Leona, Dang it, I really thought I had him this time.

He had a slight smirk on his face when he saw my irritated expression. He yawned and let go of my wrist.

"Seriously N/n?(Nickname) I really thought you were better than this. You gotta do better than that, that trick won't work sadly." He said smugly as I just wanted to punch him, gee, thanks I guess.

I scoffed and slightly rolled my eyes.

"Yeah yeah whatever, I honestly thought I had you there for a moment, but besides that, I've been looking everywhere for you! Can you not disappear for one second every time I look away?" I complained and had a slight pout and crossed my arms around my chest.

He shrugged and closed his eyes again, ready to take a nap again.

"The lectures are boring N/n, can I not go away for one second at least?" He said while opening one eye and giving me a side glance while I glared at him.

"Maybe, but don't disappear every single time, please! You're seriously going to be the death of me one day..."

"Why don't you nap with me?"

"You mean become your personal pillow again? As if, I'm already your personal servant, I don't think I need to be your personal pillow..." I sweatdropped, gee, honestly this Lion is so lazy for his own good.

He doesn't listen and grabs me by the hand and topples me over him and caging me in his arms as they're rapped around my waist. I sighed and practically gave up.

"Seriously Leona?"

He just grumbled in response and went back to taking a nap. I rolled my eyes and decided to just also sleep, I most certainly deserve it. I'll be lectured once we're done, I'm way too tired to deal with this right now and I already feel like I'm succumbing to sleep.

I yawned and relaxed my muscles, I guess I really am stuck being his personal servant and personal pillow for the rest of my life now. Not like it's any different from when we were children but still.

I felt my ears twitch and My eyelids getting heavier until I finally closed them.

Bonus:

"Why the hell did I fall asleep with you again!!!"

"Don't be so loud, you're hurting my ears, lower it down will you?"

#atier's works✎#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #twst imagines

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redrobin-detective · 9 months

Text

Simon and Marcy's relationship through the years

So I finally watched the Stakes miniseries in Adventure Time and I think like I finally understand Marceline and her motivations better, especially regarding Simon.

So seeing the stuff with Marcy's mom from Stakes I think it's pretty clear why she sent Marcy away in the first place.

She didn't want Marcy to see her die. It could be any general post-apocalyptic illness I suppose but with a mutagenic bomb I'm gonna assume it's some sort of radiation poisoning. Marcy is little here, between 5-7 so I don't think she processed why her Mom 'abandoned' her, only the hurt left behind. We see she hadn't really accepted/understood until Distant Land's Obsidian.

So that fear of abandonment translates over to Simon who, also, is forced to leave 'for her safety'. So, objectively, it's about the crown, how he's slowly losing himself and could potentially hurt her. I had asked, right from the start of my AT watch 'why does he keep putting the crown on?' We see in Simon & Marcy, its as a deterrent against the dangers of a post-war world. But Marcy was important to him, surely he could find some other way, I mean look at this

This is not a man eager to leave behind the child in his care. So why did he?

And after watching Marcy's mom succumb to radiation poisoning it hit me. Simon left Marcy for the same reason her mom did: to spare her the pain of watching a parent die. Here are the lyrics from I Remember You

"This magic keeps me alive / but it's making me crazy"

The crown was keeping him alive through the apocalypse, if it wasn't poisoning from the bomb it might have been something else. Marcy, being half demon, was protected but Simon was totally human without the crown's protection. Simon realized he had no choice but to leave her: by dying as a human like her mother or lost to madness of the crown. So he left, to ensure she didn't have to see either one. It was probably the hardest decision he ever made and he felt guilty enough to write Marcy a note. He wrote it on the back of a picture of Marcy so she'd see it but she didn't get to read it until almost a millennia later. But for a thousand years, Marcy harbored resentment towards Simon and later Ice King.

Marcy stated she originally became a vampire hunter to protect the remaining humans, thinking it was an extension of protecting her one time protector. She grieved his loss in her life greatly which turned into bitterness and frustration. Marceline was seemingly abandoned by two close parental figures in her early childhood which -coupled with vampirism and living unchanging for centuries- turned her into apathetic, isolated punk rocker we meet at the start of the series.

We don't know when Marcy and Ice King formally met but we know they didn't have much interaction in the main Adventure Time series until I Remember You. If I were to guess, Marcy probably tried to get through to Simon briefly before giving up and then avoiding him. She probably assumed he left her for the power of the crown, her own hurt clouding the memories of Simon's actions and his words to her.

We know Simon reached out to her multiple times, tracking her down and spending time with her without really knowing why. Marcy, it seemed, did her level best to just avoid him. Until she finds the note Simon left for her.

It doesn't explain everything but it's enough for Marcy to understand the important bits: that Simon did not leave her willingly, that he loved her and seeking forgiveness for his future actions as the Ice King. After this episode, we see Marcy hanging out with Ice King of her own volition and, to the best of my knowledge, she only refers to him as "Simon" from now on.

It's a big step for her, who has clung to this hurt and anger for a long, long time. To look at a man who doesn't remember her and open her heart just a crack to let him through again. I think the note from the past plus the singing in the present gave Marcy a way to bridge this crazy wizard to her old friend. One of my favorite details in the song is we hear Tom Kenny's distinctive dopey Ice King voice throughout it until we get to the last few harmonizing Da Da's. Maybe it's my imagination but the last few tones on his end are softer, more human, closer to the Simon of memory.

Its a reminder to Marcy and to us that Simon was still there.

TLDR: Marcy's mom sent her away so her daughter wouldn't watch her die and Simon chose to do the same since he would have died without the crown. Marcy hung onto this grief for years shaping it into her early AT self. I Remember You gave Marcy closure on assuring Simon's affections for her and why he left. It was also when she finally saw him for the first time in Ice King and began to allow him back into her life which led to him being freed. These two make me so emotional.

#simon petrikov #adventure time #marceline the vampire queen

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fallinforerling · 1 year

Text

LOVE ISN’T ETERNAL. chapter 4 - jb

ೃ⁀➷ jude’s masterlist

ೃ⁀➷ jude’s taglist

ೃ⁀➷ masterlist

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The weekend arrived without any nasty surprises, which was very much appreciated. Jobe was still a bit bitter towards Jude for all the lies he told the family, but you convinced him to not pick any fights with his brother. Jude didn't deserve it, but you still cared about his family dynamic staying the same regardless of how he managed the breakup and everything that came after it.

Now you were laying in bed, not having the energy to do much. It's not like you were allowing yourself to be consumed by the grief or sadness (which you still felt), but you were a bit apathetic. Luckily, Nikki and Mia were coming over to help you with that.

“I want this to end.” You whispered after a while, wanting to say something to fill up the silence in your apartment.

Because you truly wanted to get over him. Why bother grieving him? He has been partying and probably sleeping with girls every night since his arrival to London. And what were you doing? Missing him? Wishing he’d call? Having insomnia?

“Fucking prick.” At least insulting him was good therapy.

Before you could enter the space of mind where all you did was hate him and his existence, your phone started to ring. The only connection to the outside world this past week and a half was that little device.

Nikki was calling.

“Yeah?”

“Check my chat, girl. This is fucking insane. Go! We're almost there!” And then she hung up.

“What's up with Nikk and hanging up after saying things like that?” You laughed, expecting something funny or a photo of them. But no, it was a Twitter thread. When you clicked it, you almost had a heart attack.

“The fuck is this?!” You screamed.

The author of the thread simply wrote: “Jobe's new girlfriend???? I'm so jealous, who is sheeee???” followed with four photos per tweet. They were from the park meeting just a few days ago. There were photos of you hugging, when you were sitting together and when you started to leave the park.

At least it wasn't going viral, but there still were lots of people interacting with it. They were trying to guess who you were and for how long you two have been “dating”. A nightmare.

This had never happened in the ten months you dated Jude, mostly because privacy was important to him... And now you were mistaken for his little brother’s girlfriend? You felt like having a panic attack, but your front door opened and closed loudly, interrupting your thoughts.

“Did you see it?” Mia said, entering your bedroom after a few seconds.

“How did you find it?”

“Oh, you know I love gossip. I was digging for some information and I came across it. Did you see the date? Someone posted it three days ago.” Nikki sat next to you, biting her lip.

“Yeah…” Your brain started to analyze how it happened… Who took the photos without you noticing? The park was almost empty the whole time. Unless… “Fuck… I know who took those photos.”

“Who?” Mia asked with apprehension. “Someone we know?”

“No, far from it” With a sigh, you sat. “We met at a park near here. I've always liked that place because most of the time is empty… But that day I spotted a group of girls near us; I didn’t even payed them attention, they were far enough to not eavesdrop.” You covered your eyes, feeling frustrated. “They were teenagers, so of course they took the opportunity when they recognized him.”

“Yikes, girl… Someone’s going to cancel you for dating a minor.” Nikki joked, winning a very small smile from Mia and you.

“That’s not funny, my god.They probably will if they ever find who I am and my age.” You sighed, absolutely sick with the path your life was taking. “Why can’t I have one day of peace, huh? Life sucks.”

“Of course it sucks, that’s the main thing about living,” Mia said, sitting in your bed. “Well, let’s pray for that threat to die soon enough. You know how people are, they’re probably hunting for the next big gossip of the week.”

“Yeah…” You grabbed your phone again, thinking about your next move. “I probably should send this to Jobe as well, I don’t want him to be taken by surprise if people begin asking about this.” A tiny smile peaked between your lips. “And let’s hope the girl he likes doesn’t find it either.”

“Do you know what else you need to start doing?” Nikki said while you send the link to Jobe, who started to laugh about the ridiculous assumption those girls made about you.

“What?” You asked without paying much attention, smiling a bit when Jobe started to call himself Mr. Steal Your Girl.

“Being a soulless, heartless, and cold girl for once. What about some clubbing, some fun… Some boys?”

“You’re like the devil on her shoulder, Nikk,” Mia said, nudging Nikki’s arm. “But I agree, you need some fun. We forbid you from staying at home, drowning in your sadness. That boy doesn’t deserve it.”

“Not one bit,” Nikki replied, hugging you. “I promise it will be super fun, just go out with us tonight.”

Instead of responding, you took a look at the ground. There it is. You knew them too well, there was no way for them to “casually” suggest a night out; they had a plan. Their bags were on the floor, but you noticed a small bag that Nikki only took out of her house if she was planning to party: her makeup bag, which was essential if she was going out clubbing.

“Are you trying to persuade me into partying tonight?” You smiled, not even mad at the idea.

“Maybe?” Both of them said, trying to look as innocent as possible.

The three of you looked at each other with big smiles before laughing.

“We’re going out tonight!” Mia screamed, gaining more laughs from Nikki and you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The fun part about going out with Mia and Nikki was the part previous to the actual clubbing. There just was something magical about getting ready with them: the makeup with the collaboration of everybody, constantly changing outfits, Nikki persuading both of you to drink a little bit for good luck and Mia insisting that all of you needed smoky eyes, so guys felt intimidated. Most of it was nonsense, but they were your best friends in the whole world and you always felt extremely thankful for their support.

“Promise me you’re going to at least try dancing with the hottest guy that approaches you tonight.” Mia said while doing your smoky eyes (yeah, you gave in).

“I’ll try.” And you will because it wasn’t fair for you to stay in your comfort zone. If this whole thing didn’t cheer you up or make you feel better, then you could always find other ways to keep your mind occupied.

“That’s more than enough for me. Try to have fun, this is a girl’s night.”

“And talking about girls. Put this dress on, the girls look stunning in it.” Nikki dropped a black dress on your lap.

“No way!” You lifted it with a smile. “I completely forgot about this dress. I haven’t worn it since…” You paused, feeling uncomfortable. “Uh, Jude’s birthday.”

“Well, who cares about that? You still look amazing.” Nikki smiled, obviously not about to let you think much about Jude.

“Done!” Mia said after a few seconds, biting her lip. “This is my best work so far.” Her eyes were sparkling, so you believed her.

Facing yourself in the mirror, you almost didn’t recognize the face that was looking back at you. You looked amazing; the color of your eyes popped, the glitter was doing the right job of not making it look too dark and the red lipstick was the final touch. You loved it.

“That’s the face of a heartbreaker, girl.” Nikki admired your face for an instant before smiling. “Ah, I can’t wait for the boys to fight over you.”

“Very funny, Nikk.”

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The club Nikki choose was wild, especially since a manager was waiting for you at the door, guiding you to the balcony section of the club- which was the freaking VIP one.

“Nikk?” You half-screamed through the music, dying to know how she managed to pull this off. Mia seemed as confused as you were. “Anything you want to tell us?”

“About what?” She kept walking with the biggest of smiles.

“Uh… Us getting into the VIP section wiht no even five minutes of being here?”

“Oh, that?” Her smile grew bigger, if that was physically possible. “I know someone.”

Clearly, that was all the information you were getting. Mia gave you a look and the both of you silently decided that it was better if you didn’t dig into it.

“Tonight it’s about having fun, girls. My treat, don’t worry.” Nikki said once you were at the table, which already had a champagne bottle resting comfortably on an ice bucket. Three champagne glasses were next to it, patiently waiting for you.

“Oh, so this is luxury, luxury.” Mia whispered, laughing a bit.

“The fun it’s all that matters, trust me, Mia.” A waiter appeared out of nowhere, silently grabbing the bottle before smiling at all of you.

“Welcome, ladies. May I open it now?” You nodded, and with one quick movement of his wrist, he had the job done. Impressive. “Hope you have a good night. Don’t forget you can always call a waiter with the button that’s underneath the table.” And then he was gone.

“You were right, Mia. This is luxury luxury.” You accepted the glass Nikki offered you, excited for the night ahead.

“Let’s enjoy it without actually wondering how much all this is, babe.” Was all she said before chugging her glass in one sitting. “I’m ready, give me another one.”

“That’s what I’m talking about!" Nikki cheered, happy to see Mia engaged with tonight’s mission.

“Come on, you need to chug that thing too, there’s more in here.” Nikki told you, already serving Mia’s second glass.

“Fuck it.” You said before doing as Nikki said, chugging your champagne as carefully as possible so you didn’t choke. “If I end up vomiting all over the floor at the end of the night, I want you to know, I’m blaming you.”

“That’s fine to me!” And then Nikki chugged her glass as well.

Yeah, this night was going to be hella interesting.

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Needless to say that within two hours of clubbing you were pretty drunk. Not to the point of falling when trying to walk because the world was spinning or to the verge of unconsciousness, but a good point between being able to not care if something ridiculous escaped your mouth and dancing with strangers without giving it a second thought.

Nikki had found some friends along the night, and now three more people, which were the nicest ever, were sitting at your table, chatting and laughing along. You enjoyed the their company, but felt the need to give yourself space to drink a very much needed glass of water in peace.

So there you were, leaning against one of the multiple spaces in the balcony where little chairs were dispersed. It felt almost peaceful if you ignored the music blasting through the speakers or the many waiters going around the place, dealing with drunks and orders.

“No way! Is that you?” A voice startled you, taking your mind away from the blankness it was immersed in. “I knew I wasn’t mistaking that face!”

You turned, slightly pissed at the person that was basically yelling at you, until you realized it was Gio. Gio Reyna himself.

“Gio?!” You didn’t know why, but the excitement made you scream. Maybe it was because you were drunk, but seeing Gio was one of the highlights of the night. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I’m taking the few days off I have.” He hugged you tightly once you stood up, almost swiping you from the floor. “You look amazing! What are you doing here?”

“Thanks! I’m with my friends, they’re right there!” You pointed to the table, where all kept chatting without noticing your encounter. “It’s a girl’s night!”

“That’s cool! I thought you were with Jude, since he’s at London and all that.”

Your smile never wandered from your face, not caring about Jude’s name being dropped from Gio’s lips. You shook your head, letting him know you weren’t with him today. Or ever, for that matter.

“Nope, just my girls and I.” He kept looking at you like he was in front of a new person, not Jude’s “girlfriend”. You didn’t know if you liked it or felt bad about it. He was one of Jude’s good friends after all. “What about taking a picture? It’s been so long since we saw each other.”

“Sure! Are you okay if I post it to IG?”

Oh?

“Of course, go for it.”

Then the two of you moved to a more illuminated area, he took his phone and you knew this was one of a kind type of opportunity. Time to be the pettiest bitch I know. Taking advantage of him getting closer to you for the sake of the photo, you passed one arm over his shoulders, and after a couple of pics, you decided to give him a tiny peck on the cheek.

“Let's see.” He said shyly. Aw.

A few of them were blurry, but most were decent and the peck one was fabulous, not only for the sake of your intentions, but also because of how good the two of you looked. Your makeup was still intact, and with the lighting, it shined in a very pretty way. Gio had a light blush due to the alcohol, his smile being evident, giving his already handsome face something else.

“That one?” You said, picking the one you liked the most.

“Yeah! We look amazing.” He started to set it but paused before publishing it. “Do you mind if I tag you?”

Bingo.

“Go ahead, I have no problem.” And that was it.

You said your goodbyes, and while returning to the table, you felt some type of triumph. Did this make you a bad person?

“Where were you? We thought you got lost or something.” Mia said when you finally arrived, sitting beside Nikki.

“So… I did a thing…”

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