Latest Posts by idkhbeetfm - Page 4

Ooooo u wanna draw Jax in a dress soo bad oooo

You keep my fetishes away from me!

If Jax was given a computer and saw all of the fanart and fans he has, how would he react? Same question applies to everyone in the circus.

(Also hope you're having a wonderful day/night!)

I feel like he wouldn't know what to think.

everybody moved on but i stayed right here ✊🏻😩

(S)CREAMING

Mappa personally animated these scenes for me (REAL)

god i miss this silly little man so much :(((

“sync your contacts” i’d rather be waterboarded to death actually tysm tho

Moss Graffiti: A How To Guide

WWC’s A Beginner’s Guide to Academic Research

We are pleased to present  WWC’s A Beginner’s Guide to Academic Research!

This pandemic project has been over 2 years in the making and we hope it will greatly assist any of our readers who are eager to conduct in-depth research but may be at a loss where to start. 

Go to the Guide Here

The guide is split into 6 parts:

Introduction and Table of Contents

Part 1: Getting Started

Part 2: Searching for Sources Online 

Part 3: Evaluating Sources

Part 4: Navigating Academic Sources 

Part 5: Recognizing Your Limits

Each portion of the guide has links to connect to the previous and next sections. While it is possible to view tumblr pages on phones and tablets through the app, we highly recommend viewing this guide via browser on desktop whenever possible. Tumblr page formatting is better suited for browsers and each section is very dense with information, which will make scrolling in the app or on your dashboard difficult. 

Future FAQ/ Discussion: 

As noted in part 5 of the guide, for the next two weeks, we will be keeping an eye on the notes for this post. If you have further questions or comments about academic research, drop them here and we will select the most pertinent to respond to in a later post. 

If you find this guide helpful, we request that you consider tipping the moderators below for the work and time required from conception, to drafting, formatting and debugging. Their ko-fis are listed below: 

Rina: https://ko-fi.com/arcanabean

Marika: https://ko-fi.com/5h1njuu

I will NEVER see a prehistoric dinosaur

"Self insert characters are cringe"

Bro I'm trying to survive capitalism with maladaptive daydreaming. Leave me alone.

everybody moved on, but i stayed right here

I've rarely seen a more validating sentence in my entire life.

☆ 𝗳𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗹𝘆 𝗽𝗵𝗼𝘁𝗼 - ,, 𝗴𝗼𝗷𝗼

summary: Satoru Gojo has been your best friend for the past 14 years. When he suddenly finds himself taking care of a kid, your relationship twists and turns into something far more romantic.

warnings: fem!reader , slow burn , mutual pining , angst , suggestive (nothing explicit but things are implied) , mentions of death , violent imagery , reader deals with a lot in this fic , gojo is sweet tho !! not proof-read word count: 15.8k (kill me now.) a/n: this fic has been in my drafts for a year now and it's honestly such a mess but i've written it and i'm happy with it (kind of) so the fact that it's such a jumble barely bothers me anymore !! special thanks to the glue song by beabadoobee for helping me through this

“I love you,” he says, lips curled into a pout that makes you scrunch your nose in disgust. 

You press the heels of your palms to your eyes, sighing deeply, “No you don’t.”

“But I do!” and his voice gets louder, which only coaxes the already forming headache behind your eyes to grow. “So you should get your notes out for me.”

“What do you know about love anyway?”

It’s muttered just under your breath and you hope Gojo didn’t catch it, isn’t able to read into the bitterness laced along each word. You slam your laptop shut, standing up abruptly. Gojo follows suit.

“I’m not digging up my anthropology notes from two years ago just so you can cheat.”

His hopeful expression drops in an instant, hands flying forward to grab onto you, “No! Don’t you want me to pass? Don’t you love me?”

And what about you? What do you know about love?

You know that it’s difficult. There isn’t a need for any profound thinking, any nuance, for you to believe that. You know it’s true because you’ve lived it—because you are living it. You don’t have to have said “I love you,” once in your life, to know your way around the trials and tribulations that come with pesky emotions. (Emphasis on pesky emotions that call for intimacy.)

You know that love hurts. Perhaps, it’s the lack of control that makes love so painful. While beauty may be in the eye of the beholder, those who behold can’t choose who they wish to admire. It happens unexpectedly, like the changing tides: waves of emotion crashing down at once and pushing you off kilter. 

You know that love is uncertain, a gamble. It’s the lack of promise love can give. While you may love someone with everything you have, devote yourself to them, prioritize them—they might never see you as anyone other than a friend. Sometimes, you might be a best friend. Oftentimes, it’s never anything more than that.

And yet, love is such a beautiful thing. It bleeds warm, saccharine sweet like spoonfuls of honey, and fills you with the greatest happiness. Tingles at your fingertips where they touch, shivers down your spine when they stare, butterflies erupting in your stomach when they speak. Your skin growing warm and your smile stretched wide—that was the beauty of love.

But how can something so precious be so utterly disheartening? 

“No,” you roll your eyes, walking away from your best friend, unsurprised when he scrambles after you. “I don’t love you.”

You don’t mean it at all.

-: ✧ :-

You sigh a great deal in your life, but none of them compare to the way your chest heaves when you find yourself doing something you know you’ll regret. It’s never a shock that these regretful choices often accompany a certain white-haired man.

The pitch black darkness of your room is pierced by a beam of bright light from your phone screen, your tired eyes reading over the message once. Twice. Three times.

gojo 🤑: hey can i ask for a favor? pleaseeeeee?????? 🙇‍♂️🙏🙇‍♂️🙏🙇‍♂️🙏 im begging you 😫😫

You groan, tossing your phone to the side to run your hand down your face, letting your fingers catch on the soft skin around your eyes. Despite the many years you’ve known him, your hand still trembles as you type out your response, another sigh escaping your lips.

you: what the fuck is it now

The urge to slam your head into the nearest wall makes your neck twitch, the ghost of the movement lingering over your body. Why did you even bother asking?

gojo 🤑: i knew you’d say yes 😁 you just love me SO much come to my place tomorrow early too better be there before sunrise you:  i’m going to kill you for this one satoru 

Setting down your phone, you will yourself to close your eyes and forget about the man who’s been the cause for all your inner turmoil lately.

To be honest, he’s been the cause of your inner turmoil for the past year and a half, as pathetic as that may be. It’s not your fault he’s handsome, charming, funny, reliable—the list goes on. Sure, he can be slightly immature at times, and he often shies away from commitment, but who doesn’t have flaws, right?

You squeezed your eyes shut even harder, trying to clear your mind of all things Gojo.

The thing with love is that, at its worst, it can stay a secret for years and years to come. You can pine and yearn for someone so terribly, every fiber in your body craves them, and they would never know. You never have to tell them anything. That choice alone is what has put you in your recent predicament.

If life was black and white, perhaps you could have stopped being friends with him the moment you noticed the way your heart raced at the mere thought of him. But things don’t work like that and, frankly, you think Gojo would hunt you down if you even tried to cut him off.

You’ve tried to rid yourself of this 190cm lanky demon several times over the course of your life, however you’ve been unsuccessful every single time. When you met him 14 years ago, you didn’t think Satoru Gojo would become your best friend. In fact, you found him annoying, like a pesky mosquito that refused to leave you alone no matter how hard you swatted at him.

The two of you had your fair share of fights growing up, some lasting mere hours, others stretching on over the course of a couple days. Despite that, you both managed to make up and forgive each other no matter what. 

You had believed then, as a hurting teenager, that one of your more serious arguments would eventually drive you both apart. After all, the similarities between you both were few and far between. For some reason entirely unknown to you, your scathing words never pushed him away.

And now that it's been 14 years, you’ve grown too fond of him to be able to imagine a life without him. 

So, you’re forced to swallow back the way your feelings crawl to the back of your throat when you’re with him, resting at the tip of your tongue, because you know he’d never see you as anything more than a friend. 

Hell, it was obvious. The two of you have done everything you could possibly do as a couple: go on amusement park “dates”, spend hours in the arcade together. He’s even insisted on cuddling, changing in front of one another, sharing a bed. Yet, Gojo has never seemed to look at you any differently. 

And none of it ever bothered you either—until last year, when you saw him in a different light nearly overnight. In comparison to all else you had done with him, this was absolutely minuscule, but it's the reason Gojo takes up so much of your thoughts even now. 

You had come over to his apartment. It was a Saturday and every Saturday, he insisted the both of you hang out. When you met him as a dumb little kid, it was easy to hang out whenever you both pleased. Things are obviously different now that you both have responsibilities. 

Being busy with university and your part-time job, you and Gojo began to see less and less of each other. Still, Saturday evenings stayed dedicated to your long-standing friendship. That day, your shift at the grocery store was particularly grueling: loud babies wailing, irritable customers screaming in your face. To top it all off, you had a headache and had to skip lunch. Safe to say, you were exhausted. 

You got to Gojo’s house, knocking on the door, almost falling asleep against the wood. He didn't greet you. In fact, he wasn't even home. This wasn't uncommon, you simply pulled out your spare key and walked inside, making a beeline for his couch and letting your body sink into the soft cushions. The guy was unbelievably rich for a university student—not that you were complaining. 

You wanted to stay awake, wait for him so you could follow through with your usual Saturday shenanigans, but you just couldn’t. 

The couch was awfully comfortable, cradling your fatigued body, lulling you to sleep. Your eyes fought against the instinct to close, but ultimately, you lost and gave in. Darkness enveloped you as your head fell back. It was a rather uncomfortable position, but at that moment, you didn’t have enough energy to care. 

You fell asleep in mere minutes, and because he has the worst timing, Gojo showed up seconds after you had bid goodbye to consciousness. 

To this day, you’re still unsure if you had dreamt it, or maybe you had jolted back into a state of semi-awareness when your noisy friend barged in with a loud, “Honey! I’m home!". What you’re sure of, is the fact that he had moved you. While drifting in and out of sleep, you felt his cold hands press into the muscle of your arms as he laid you down, moving you into a much more comfortable position. 

Perhaps you were still in the throes of deep sleep, sinking into pillowy clouds in your dreams and that’s why you conjured up this moment. It might not have happened at all. Or, perhaps, Gojo did lean over you, his warmth spilling over your cheek as he pressed his lips to your forehead. They were slightly chapped as they brushed against your skin, and you felt the gust of air as he sighed his goodnight.

You wonder if he had smiled. 

It wasn’t like Gojo had never been affectionate with you before. In fact, you’re pretty sure physical touch is one of his love languages with how prone he is to clinging onto you like some parasite. Some things, like forehead kisses, are strictly outside the bounds of your friendship.

There’s something so intimate about that gesture, something far more genuine and laced with a kind of devotion that never exists between people who are simply just friends.

The following morning, you wrenched yourself out of his apartment with the excuse that you had to feed your fish. You don’t even own fish. 

The feeling had been so utterly foreign. You couldn’t remember a time when you had ever felt this nervous around Gojo—your palms sweaty, a tingling feeling racing up and down your spine. The realization dawned on you the moment you had woken up.

This feeling, which had laid dormant at the bottom of your heart, flickered to life, merging with the very blood that pumps through your veins.

Maybe, Gojo had always been more than just a friend. More than a best friend, even. 

You don’t know how to face it—the truth about your feelings. You try and fail to move on, try and fail to confess, try and fail.

Which is why it wasn’t surprising in any sense that you were awake, before the sun had even graced your city, slipping on your shoes so you could go and see what your best friend wanted from you. 

-: ✧ :-

“You have a what?”

Gojo snorts, rolling his eyes, “Why’d you say that like I asked you to get naked or something? Listen: I have some errands to run and I need you to look after this kid of mine.”

You’re struggling to wrap your head around everything he just laid onto you. Even if the only new information was that he, seemingly overnight, got himself a kid. How did Satoru Gojo end up with a child in his care?

You sputter, trying to come up with something to say. “Since when did you have a kid?”

“I adopted him a few days ago, saved him from some family stuff. Anyways, can you look after him or not?”

You really hate yourself for saying yes, but you say yes, and suddenly you’re sitting on the couch with the world’s grumpiest child next to you. It’s been a few minutes since Gojo’s left to do God knows what, and neither of you have said a word. You expected Megumi to get off the couch and go do his thing, while you figure out how to look after him, but he stayed glued to the spot Gojo called him to.

“So…how old are you?”

Silence. 

“I’m twenty-two, just like Satoru.”

More silence.

You probably wouldn’t have known his name had it not been for Gojo telling you. 

You sigh—he clearly doesn’t like you. It stings a little bit, you liked to tell yourself that you’re the type of person kids naturally gravitate towards, but clearly there are exceptions. 

“What’s your…favorite color?” you try once more, and again, it’s met with silence. The boy hasn’t even looked at you, staring straight ahead, preoccupied with something else. 

“Well, mine is probably blue. I think it’s such a nice color—like the ocean and the sky. And there’s so many shades, but lighter blues are especially gorgeous,” you ramble, feeling a bit embarrassed. 

He lets out a breath through his nose, and you perk up, waiting for his response. “I like pink. Do you like blue because it reminds you of Gojo’s eyes?”

You laugh, perhaps a bit too loud. Out of all the things he could have said, you certainly weren’t expecting that. 

Waving your hands in front of you, you try to shrug off his question, “No, it’s nothing like that! He’s just my best friend.”

Megumi nods, but something tells you he doesn’t believe you. You can’t believe you got bested by a six-year-old. Shaking your head, you interrogate him some more about his hobbies, and Megumi responds with one word answers. Eventually, the two of you settle on reading him some non-fiction book that you’re surprised even interests him.

As the hours stretch on, Megumi warms up to you a little more. Or something like that. He’s started asking you more about yourself, and even let you inside his room, showing you his growing collection of books about animals. 

He’s strangely interested in your relationship with Gojo: asking how you two met, why you wanted to be friends with him. Whenever you give him your answer (some bullshit you make up on the spot because—really. Why are you still friends with an idiot like him?), he hums like he’s learned some fundamental truth about you. 

Honestly, the kid scares you a little bit and it makes perfect sense that he ended up with Satoru Gojo as his parent. 

Speaking of: the fact that Gojo was even allowed to adopt him in the first place makes you question everything you ever knew about him. Then again, there’s always the possibility that this was by no means a legal adoption. He did say Megumi was saved from some family troubles, and knowing your best friend of several years, this very well entails kidnapping. 

You furrow your brows, looking over at the six-year-old doodling some large fluffy dogs, “Did Gojo just scoop you up off the street?”

“Something like that.”

Well. That’s alarming. 

When Gojo gets back, he doesn’t really offer you much of an explanation as to how or why he suddenly has a kid. You were naïve for thinking you would get one at all. Instead, he tucks Megumi into bed, sits you down at his dinner table, and shares some of the takeout he brought home with you. 

You expected that to be the last time you’d be babysitting Megumi.

But then you’re back in two days, and then the day after that as well. And then the day after that too. 

Now, you’re a good friend who loves helping out your friends, and you’re a good Samaritan who will provide your aid where it’s needed. In the grand scheme of things, this isn’t even that terrible of an arrangement. You could definitely live like this.

But then it’s been a week of being called to babysit, and you definitely can’t live like this.

You don’t have the heart to look Gojo in the eyes and tell him you can’t do this anymore, so you keep going. Love makes people do crazy things, even if it’s ignoring pending assignments so you could color dogs with a grumpy little boy.

You rub the sleep out of your eyes, yawning as you get dressed, “Why don’t you get an actual babysitter? I doubt I’m being a good influence.”

Of course, your academics are your top priority. But you can’t help but think about how Megumi might turn out if the only people he seems to be surrounded by are you, and your impulsive, borderline insane best friend. 

Gojo’s voice crackles over the phones as he laughs, “You see, I would. But Megumi keeps asking for you- actually, he insists that it has to be you.”

Maybe, you’re just being dramatic. This isn’t that bad anyways. 

This time when you step into the Gojo household, your beloved best friend already has one foot out the door. Normally, he lingers, giving you both sickly sweet goodbyes, scooping up a struggling Megumi into his arms to plant a big wet kiss on his cheek. 

He offers you one too, which you quickly decline. 

“I won’t be back until really late today,” Satoru grimaces, pulling the door shut only for you to pull it back open.

You pout, slightly alarmed, “But Satoru, I have an essay to work on!”

"Just use my laptop!” he shouts as he runs off. You wonder how he has the time to do any of his own assignments. 

You figure he’s probably out meeting with his model UN group. It’s one of the few academic pursuits in his life that Gojo is very serious about. Either that, or he actually took up the tutoring offer from Nanami (but you highly doubt that).

Megumi has yet to wake up, so you go on a hunt for Gojo’s laptop to start on your essay. Might as well be productive while you have the chance to. 

You find it resting on his desk in his bedroom, and bring it over to the living room. It’s only when you open it up that you find out it’s password locked. You try texting Gojo, but something tells you he won’t be responding. 

If you can’t guess the password, then you have to begrudgingly start your essay on your phone, which sounds like a nightmare.

Your first guess is his own birthday. Satoru has a habit of acting like his birth reset the course of planet Earth, so it wouldn’t surprise you if that was also his password. Surprisingly, you’re wrong. And you’re wrong about it being Getou’s birthday, or Megumi’s birthday (which you only learned recently), and even your own birthday. 

You’ve definitely ruled out the possibility of it ever being Nanami’s birthday, which leads you to believe it isn’t a birthday at all. Bringing your hands together, you steeple your fingers and bring them under your chin; trying to think like Gojo is hurting your brain.

Clearly this isn't working out. Gojo's an enigma and trying to put yourself in his shoes is making you lose what few brain cells you've managed to save. 

So, you make your way into his poorly guarded room.

You tend to keep a safe distance away from his bedroom for obvious reasons—Lord knows what Gojo has lying around—so it feels strange to open the door and step inside. 

Your first impression is one of surprise at how clean it was. Knowing his tendency to leave many of his chores untouched or half-completed, you expected his room to be a reflection of his laziness, but you can actually see the floor. His bed is made and his dirty clothes lay in a hamper in the corner, clean clothes folded and placed off to the side on his bed. 

His desk is a tad cluttered with random trinkets, many of which you recognize from your countless adventures with him, but it’s organized enough.

“Okay, if I was Satoru, what would I make my password?” you whisper just under your breath as your eyes continue to scan and scrutinize his room. 

You walk up to a few post-it notes stuck on the wall, hoping that one of them might be his password. You remember the amount of times Gojo’s gotten locked out of his email, social media, and other things—it would only make sense for him to write passwords down.

Unfortunately for you, all of them are reminders to take out the trash. 

Pulling out the chair tucked into his desk, you take a seat, sprawling out as you continue to take in his room. Growing up, you spent hours upon hours cooped up in Satoru’s room. The two of you spent your time playing video games, watching tv shows you were definitely too young for, and talking about everything and nothing. 

When you got bored of his room, the both of you would do the same thing in your room. 

Somewhere along the years, you stopped hanging out in each others’ rooms. You suppose it’s only natural—your bedroom goes from being a place to sleep to a clear insight into the way you live your life. 

Gojo’s room lacks the mess you would’ve expected, but it’s still obviously his room from the several polaroids stuck to the wall, the kikufuku wrappers on his desk, and the growing collection of mugs accumulating on the nightstand. 

It makes you smile, despite the fact that the several mugs are nothing short of disgusting. Next to them is a framed picture. You never took Satoru for someone who’s sentimental, and out of sheer curiosity, you walk over to see what it is. 

Your smile only widens as you realise it's a picture of you and him from when you were young. You recognize the park the two of you are at instantly: it was where you both met. You were both only just kids back then. He basically ran into you and felt guilty, so he offered to hang out with you since you apparently looked lonely. You took offense, obviously, and told him to leave you alone. 

He did not and suddenly you found yourself with a new friend. Gojo forced himself into your life and after a few short days, you decided he wasn’t all that bad. The picture was taken by his mom, before the both of you parted ways, only to immediately find out you lived across from each other.

You flip the frame over, surprised to find a date scribbled in the corner. From the year alone, you figure it was the day the picture was taken. Realising you may have stumbled across his password, you rush back to his laptop to try it. 

Lo and behold, it worked.

You sit there for a moment, desperately trying not to read into what you just found out. Surely, there’s nothing more to this than Satoru choosing a date for a password. He probably didn’t want to go with a birthday since it would be too obvious, so he picked another date instead. 

Shaking the annoyingly hopeful thoughts crowding your mind, you quickly begin working on your essay.

You only get halfway through your essay before Megumi joins you, silent as always, but from the way he’s side-eyeing you it’s obvious he wants your attention. You spend the rest of the day with him as you usually would, reading and drawing, sharing bits and pieces about your life.

Somehow the conversation spirals to when you and Gojo met, and you’re not sure if you’re still hung up over his password, but you find your voice shaking a little as you recount the many things you’ve done with him.

Eventually, as the sun begins to set, you get dinner ready and eat on the couch with Megumi by your side. Some random cartoon show is playing on TV, but Megumi seems much more interested in mimicking the way you’re forking pasta into your mouth. 

He helps you clean up, and shuffles in next to you on the couch once more. You don’t remember Megumi falling asleep, or when you fell asleep as well.

-: ✧ :-

When you wake up, you're surrounded by warmth. It feels like you're sinking into something akin to moist, spongy cake. The sunlight melts over your closed eyes, and you flutter them open, blinded by white very briefly as you get used to the daytime once more. 

And then you notice Gojo laying next to you, elbow pressed into the mattress as he holds his head up with his palm, obviously shirtless and staring down at you. All the air in your lungs escapes you quickly, getting tangled in your throat as you choke. 

You frantically point at his torso, and the bed the two of you were sharing, "What- you- what?"

He laughs and it does little to calm you, "Don't worry, we didn't do anything.

“I didn't want to leave you on the couch after I pried Megumi away to send him off to school."

He shrugs off the comforter, making your thrashing heart slow down at the sight of his sweatpants. You can feel your own clothes from last night on you: your uncomfortable jeans and an old cotton and polyester t-shirt. 

You frown, following him, "Megumi goes to school?"

"Yeah?" he says, while your eyes flit all over his chest. "He's six, what else would he be doing?"

You decide not to comment on the fact that Megumi hasn’t been attending school for the past couple days, trusting that Gojo knew what he was doing. That’s probably a mistake but it’s not your problem to worry about. 

The two of you file out of his bedroom, and you scroll through your phone while waiting for him to leave the bathroom. 

"I can't believe Megumi slept with you last night. And on top of that, he was clinging onto you like a dumb koala."

You could barely understand Gojo with his toothbrush shoved in his mouth, but you could make out enough to respond with a smug smirk, "Sorry that I'm better at this than you are."

"I'm telling you—it's the maternal instincts!" he huffs, walking back into the bathroom with the slam of the door. "Do you have any idea how hard it was to pull him away from you in the morning?"

He's yelling from inside the bathroom, and you roll your eyes as he keeps complaining. 

"I basically got in my morning work out! And then-!" he starts again, this time opening the door, wiping his face with a small towel, "that little shit had the audacity to start wailing when I carried you off to the bedroom.

"Whining about how you were his or whatever," Gojo trails off, his voice getting quieter as he begins to mumble. "As if I didn't know you first."

You feel your chest tighten as your heart swells; it's surprising how quickly you've grown attached to the little kid. For all his efforts, he was actually pretty clingy.

A laugh bubbles up your throat, the corners of your mouth twitching up with amusement as you come to a realization.

"Gojo...are you jealous of a little kid?"

He gives you an incredulous look, scoffing in offense, "Gojo? You mean Satoru—first of all."

The laugh you've been holding back bursts past your lips, escaping you as you shut the door in his face. 

"Second of all," he shouts, "no. I am not jealous of some kid!"

"I beg to differ!" you call out, and he doesn't respond. You enjoy the silence: this feels good. This feels domestic, and natural, and good. 

It makes your stomach twist when you realize that Gojo is nothing more than a good friend. And he'd never see you as anything more than that. 

"What do you want for breakfast?" he asks suddenly, and you clear your thoughts. 

"Nothing, coffee is fine."

"Okay, no. I’m making waffles," he hums and you can hear him walk away, his footsteps making the ground shake. 

You go about your business in the bathroom, exiting a few seconds later to meet Gojo in the kitchen. He's busy gathering ingredients, setting everything down onto the marble counters as he hums a song you recognize as one you introduced him to. 

Leaning against the cool counter, you begin to speak, "You know the heart attack you gave me today morning?"

He responds by turning around, giving you a wolfish grin, which you pointedly ignore. 

"Why didn't you leave me on the couch anyway?"

This was the first time Gojo has ever made an effort to pick you up and move you somewhere else, let alone his own bed. You've slept over multiple times before, and always woke up on the couch. 

He stills, hesitating for a moment and you can feel the air almost pause. 

"And what? Leave you to complain at me about how you slept weird?"

He brushed off the question, both you and him know that. But you let it go, opting for admiring your best friend, and crush, work the kitchen. 

Gojo isn't the best cook, certainly not better than you, but he can hold his own. That being said, Gojo's a messy cook and always leaves the kitchen like a hurricane swept through it. 

He looks good, but then again, the moments where he looks even mediocre are few and far between. His sweatpants hang low on his hips, and the watery sun from the cloudy sky outside spreads over his back and his porcelain hair like it's meant to be shining on him at all times. 

You come around the side of the kitchen, hoisting yourself up onto the counter Gojo was working on, allowing your gaze to settle on the curve of his nose and the way his lips were parted with focus. His eyes seem to take on an almost mystical glow—vivid cerulean irises flitting from the different bowls laid out in front of him. 

"Take a picture, Princess, it'll last longer," he mutters with a ghost of a smirk. 

"You're so annoying."

His boisterous laugh takes up the whole room, and you bite your lip, looking down at your swinging feet. 

He calms down and pours the batter into the warmed up waffle maker, tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth with focus, "You know, it took Megumi weeks to warm up to me. He's not shy but...he's kind of picky with people."

This surprises you. 

Sure, when you first met him, Megumi wasn't the kindest. but it didn't take you long to break him out of his shell. He wasn't the most talkative, but it was the little things: when he leaned into your side while you sat beside him, when he mimicked the way you had eaten. Megumi is observant and mimicry is the sincerest form of flattery. 

"I hadn't noticed..." you finally say, trailing off. 

Gojo exhales something of a laugh, "That's because he loves you."

"I think 'love' is pushing it-"

"No, no! You should've seen him today, bitching and moaning about how I'm making him leave you." He rolls his eyes with a groan, muttering to himself in annoyance. 

You smirk, pointing at his face to make a quip about him rolling his eyes, when someone begins to bang on the front door. There's a quick, rapid succession of knocks, and then: "Satoru! Where are you? You have class!"

You don't give Gojo the chance to speak before you're jumping off the counter, rushing over to open the door. 

Getou stands with his hands shoved in his pockets, brows furrowed until he realizes it's you who's opened the door, and not his perpetually tardy friend. He breathes out your name like it's a song. "Nice to see you," he smiles, bending down to meet your gaze. Your cheeks grow warm, involuntarily. 

Though your affection may lie with Gojo, Getou was still every bit as charming, and then some. 

You move out of the way, giving him the space to step into Gojo's lavish flat. His sneakers squeak against the tile of the entrance as he stops next to you. 

"Good to see you too, Suguru," you grin back, wrapping your arms around your waist. 

He shuffles a bit closer to you, and you don't hesitate to lean against him, still somewhat tired from your slightly rude awakening. Getou moves with ease as he slips an arm around you, bringing you into his side. 

"I don't have class today, you know that."

Gojo comes into view from around the kitchen, his eyes immediately fixating on the way Suguru has you within his grasp. He visibly stiffens, eyes darkening in a way you haven’t seen before, wearing a kind of neutral look that you can’t understand.

Suguru, on the other hand, simply raises an eyebrow, "Are you sure about that? Today is Tuesday, not Wednesday."

And this time when Gojo stills, it's not with some unreadable expression that confuses you—it's with shock. He scrambles to pull out his phone from the pocket of his sweats, glancing at the date before letting out a string of curses. 

"C'mere," he gestures at you, then ultimately decides to pull you away, his hand closing around your wrist. 

You let Gojo drag you into the kitchen, ignoring the way your skin burns at his touch, and he turns to you with an apologetic smile. He's stumbling out his words, hands gripping your upper arms as he speaks. "I can't be marked late by the professor again, or else I'm gonna be in so much trouble."

It’s beyond you why the two of you had to walk into the kitchen for him to divulge this information. And it’s certainly beyond you why Gojo had let his fingers linger around your wrist, and on your upper arms. You ignore it, however, as you move towards the sleek, black Keurig and turn it on.

Getou walks into the kitchen then, shooing a very reluctant Gojo to go get dressed. He moves over to grab you a mug for your coffee, which you graciously thank him for since Gojo had a habit of leaving everything you needed tucked away in unusually high cabinets.

You set it under the coffee maker, waiting for the dark liquid to fill the cup. Tendrils of steam spill out the sides of the mug, the kitchen filling up with the scent of the bitter drink. To your side, Getou’s leaning against the counter, watching you with a soft smile. You meet his eyes with a curious stare, raising your eyebrows.

“Something on my face, Suguru?”

He laughs, warm and deep, shaking his head, “Nothing at all.” He slides closer, reaching around you to grab a spoon before grabbing the creamer for you. “Why’d you spend the night anyway? Did that idiot bug you to study with him?”

You scoff at the thought of your ‘study’ sessions with Gojo; they always devolve into the both of you watching a movie, your work forgotten on the floor. 

“Nope,” you answer, pouring some of the creamer into your coffee, “I was babysitting his…kid.”

Getou’s eyes widen ever so slightly, the only indicator of him acknowledging what you said. You open your mouth to say something more, but Gojo comes running out of his room, jacket half-on. He eyes your closeness to Getou suspiciously, before motioning for his friend to follow him with a wave of his hand. 

Before they leave, Gojo walks over to where you’re standing in the kitchen, grinning at you so sweetly. You know he wants something from you.

“Would you– like to stay for dinner? With Megumi and i?” he asks, voice just a hair above a whisper. Had you not been standing so close to him, you might not have heard him at all. His expression remains sincere for a moment more before it morphs into an exaggerated pout.

“Please?” he begs, dragging out the word just to irritate you.

“Put that fucking pout away and I might agree.”

He takes that as a yes, pulling you into a hug that nearly spills the coffee out of your mug. “I’ll see you then,” he mumbles into your hair, arms wrapped tightly around your waist like you’d float away should he let go.

Getou slams a hand against the wall, reminding gojo of his presence, “Hurry it up, unless you wanna be late.”

You wave them both out, Gojo blowing a kiss your way which you pretend to catch and stomp on. The action elicits a laugh from Getou which earns him a shoulder punch from the taller of the two. They begin bickering as they walk away and you watch fondly, heart aching for something you know you’re never getting.

-: ✧ :-

When Gojo gets back from class, he arrives with Megumi in tow. The young boy stumbles inside, shrugging off his backpack as soon as he makes it in. You had let yourself in a few moments earlier, knowing gojo would be home soon. You wanted to help with dinner.

Megumi notices you seated on the couch and approaches you slowly, giving you a short wave. You return the gesture just as Gojo walks over to meet you both, large hands resting atop Megumi’s head.

“Ready for dinner?”

You nod your head, getting up, “I’m helping.”

"I figured,” he laughs, leading the way into the kitchen. You watch as he puts on the stupid apron Shoko had gotten him as a gag gift a few years ago. ‘Kiss the Cook!’ is printed in red cursive on the front with kiss marks and red hearts around it.

Gojo catches you looking at the words, leaning closer while pointing at his lips. “Well? You read the apron, Angel.”

You try not to put much meaning into the pet name and scoff, shoving him away. “Are aprons suddenly law or something?”

“Not all of them, but this one is.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s so special about this one, Satoru?” you ask, getting ingredients out from the fridge, the necessary produce needed for dinner tonight. 

“It's special 'cause I said so.”

You scoff, “In your dreams, dumbass.”

Satoru grins, wide and yielding as he steps closer to where you’ve cosied up in a corner. You take a deep breath, trying to slow your heart thrashing against your ribcage. Though his attention should be elsewhere, his eyes remain glued to your own. You turn around, back facing him.

It’s a precautionary measure because you’re sure that you’d make a mistake, staring at him the way you were. 

His chest presses against your back, the warmth of his body seeping through the cotton of his shirt and you can’t quite stop yourself from relaxing against him. 

“Where did I put it?” he mumbles to himself, searching the cupboards above you. He doesn’t seem the least bit concerned about the fact that he’s crowding you against the counter, one arm resting on the marble countertop, caging you against him.

Gojo pulls away rather abruptly, the feeling of him disappearing as soon as you had gotten used to it. “Guess it’s not there after all,” he says, swiftly moving over to another cupboard to check. 

You, however, have a hand pressed to your heart, feeling it nearly beat out of your chest. 

Megumi joins you both in the kitchen shortly after, and Gojo brings him up to sit on some free counter space while the both of you maneuver around each other in the kitchen. You can feel Megumi watching you as you hand things over to Gojo, freezing when his fingers brush yours. You know he’s watching when Gojo reaches around you for something, pressing himself against you.

You wait for the water in the pot to come to a simmer, softly humming the chorus of a song over and over again. Eventually, Megumi picks up on the repetition, humming along with you. It brings a smile to your face and you can’t resist pinching his little cheek. 

You’re too busy cooing at Megumi (whose face has gone red from embarrassment) to notice Gojo watching you both, leaning down, his cheek propped up by his arm resting on the counter. There’s a warmth in his gaze that you always seem to miss, this barely restrained desire to know you better than he knows himself.

He sighs wistfully, which gets your attention and as you turn, he’s walking closer. You let him wrap his arms around you, looking into your eyes for just a brief moment. His gaze is cloudy, like he’s wrapped up in his own head—your own pining reflected back to you. It startles you; you long to look inside his mind.

“This is really nice,” Gojo hums, resting his chin on your shoulder. “We should do this more often.”

You can only nod in agreement, everything you want to say sticking to the roof of your mouth, sugar exploding along your tongue like a caramel candy. 

You swallow them down, deciding to keep them to yourself for a little longer. Gojo squeezes you to his chest, then untangles himself from you. You watch him get back to cooking and you wonder if his heart is also racing, the blood rushing to his head, roaring in his ears. 

There's a whisper of something painful in the back of your mind. You ignore it.

Seconds ago, you were close enough to share a breath. Yet, when you watch him now, you feel as though you’ll always be miles apart.

-: ✧ :-

It’s been a few days since you’ve started babysitting Megumi. You fell so easily into their routine, like you were always meant to be a part of it. And when you listen to Gojo complain about how m\Megumi likes you more, you begin to believe that you were. 

You fiddle with the keys to Gojo’s car as you stand just outside of Megumi’s school, waiting for the hordes of children to come running out. Tired mothers sit on the few benches next to the entrance, rehashing the same gossip most likely. Fathers stand possessively in front of their cars, arms crossed over their chest as they wait. 

It’s cold. The wind brings a chill that sweeps over you and makes a few strands of your hair flutter, landing in a mess covering your eyes. You blow them out of the way, tapping your foot impatiently. 

Megumi’s school is rather small: just one main building, single-storied. In the back, you think there’s a garden, judging by the chain link fencing colored green thanks to the growing ivy wrapped around it. 

Wreathes and small Christmas trees are placed strategically along the sidewalk and on the walls outside, fairy lights strung from the roof of the school. The announcement board outside features a Santa Claus cutout smiling joyfully. The school is covered in Christmas decorations as they prepare for the upcoming holidays, only a week and a half away.

You briefly wonder what Gojo’s plans are, whether he’ll be taking Megumi home to his family. You highly doubt it—Satoru would hate to be on the receiving end of a stream of endless questions. How was he meant to explain Megumi anyway?

Along with that thought, comes another: would Megumi miss his family over the holidays? 

You don’t know much about the boy at all, neither Megumi himself nor Gojo bothered to explain his past. However, it must be a pretty stark change to suddenly be under the care of a college student, especially one as eccentric as Gojo. 

The clock ticks down to a minute before the end of the school day. A large crowd of children stand waiting behind the closed gates, squealing and screaming, waving frantically at their parents waiting for them.

You hear the bell ring and the gate opens, kids flooding out like a rush of water breaking past a dam. Their little legs slam against the pavement as they race for their families. You keep an eye out for Megumi, knowing that he wouldn’t be the type to behave so rambunctiously. 

It doesn’t take long for you to spot the top of his head, his spiky raven hair moving slowly behind a gaggle of loud children. Megumi looks around aimlessly, probably for Nanami who normally picks him up. His friend next to him, a pink-haired boy, grins at him and says something you can’t make out.

He must be loud, you notice, as Megumi winces from the noise. His gaze eventually makes its way to you, and you watch as recognition flashes across his features. Eyebrows raised and eyes wide, Megumi makes a mad dash towards you, plowing down his friend in the process.

The sight of the pink-haired boy rolling around on the sidewalk makes you gasp, biting the inside of your cheek to keep your laughter at bay. Megumi slows down dramatically when you wave to him, struggling to appear indifferent to your presence. It’s insanely endearing.

“Hi Megumi,” you smile, reaching out a hand to brush over the unruly strands of his hair. Megumi wrinkles his nose at the feeling of your fingers smoothing over his scalp, but he returns your greeting.

“Hello. Where’s Nanami?”

The abruptness of the question barely phases you. You’re used to Megumi’s bluntness.

“Well…Satoru forgot to tell Nanami to get you today, so I showed up instead,” you answer, leading Megumi towards Gojo’s car. 

You barely had the opportunity to really take in this car on your way to the school, borderline speeding so you wouldn’t show up late. Curse you for falling asleep for too long. Everything about it screamed Gojo, from the color to the model (appropriately flashy for a very flashy guy). It’s not your kind of car by any means.

You grab Megumi’s backpack while he clambers into the backseat, hopping up onto the booster seat placed on the right. The bright orange flames decorating the fabric is a pretty strong indicator that Gojo bought this thing without consulting Megumi. Handing him back his backpack, you climb into the driver’s seat.

The drive is a lot more peaceful when you’re not racing against traffic lights and skating just under the speed limit. You think of the last time you were in this car—it was too long ago for you to be able to recall.

Stopped at a red light, you allow your eyes to wander a bit and explore the front dash. Gojo’s placed a small cat figurine in the corner, but aside from that, his car lacks much personality. The only other decorative piece he’s got is a small keychain hanging from the rearview mirror. 

You eye it carefully, wondering why the fraying twine and colorful beads seem so familiar to you. It takes you some time to remember the bracelet you had gifted Gojo years ago, in fourth grade. You had spent recess with some other friends of yours, making friendship bracelets. When you went to give Gojo the bracelet you made for him, you were met with petty hostility.

He had been upset because you had ditched him, but his grievances were quickly forgotten as soon as you handed over his gift. He wore it every single day until he couldn’t anymore. When you asked about it, Satoru explained that the bracelet had come apart. You weren’t surprised: he wore it way too much and that thing was holding on thanks to a flimsy knot you put together as a chubby fingered nine-year-old.

You hadn’t expected him to keep it after that, let alone turn it into a keychain to hang in his car. 

The fact that he had held onto it even after all these years makes your heart flip in a way that you know is dangerous. Tightening your grip on the steering wheel, you focus back on driving. 

Once you’re back in the apartment, you decide to get started on making Megumi some kind of snack to tide him over until dinner rolls around. you watch him rummage around in his backpack, walking over to you with a piece of paper in his hand. 

He tugs on your apron, handing you the paper without a single word of explanation. from a quick glance, you gather that it’s a drawing and you grin, “This is so cute, Megumi!”

Sure, you didn’t really see it yet, but he doesn’t need to know that. You have to foster creativity in children when they’re young in any way you can, even if it means lying sometimes.

You set aside some strawberries to dice, making a mental note to put the picture up on the fridge. Gojo has an abundance of random magnets from all the places he’s visited; might as well put them to good use. 

When you grab the drawing off the counter, really take a look at what’s on it, you almost can’t believe it. For a moment, you wonder if you’re simply projecting your twisted hopes onto this kid’s art piece. 

Megumi’s decided to draw himself, standing with his brows furrowed, next to a very long man who you can only assume to be Gojo, judging by the white hair and sunglasses. On megumi’s left, is someone in a blue sweater, shorter than gojo. It’s you.

There was clearly an attempt at drawing hands that fell apart into a jumble of squiggles but you get the idea: they’re all holding hands. At the top of the drawing, in large messy handwriting is the title.

“My Family.”

Megumi runs up to the counter, eyeing you carefully as you take in the drawing. You’re struck with the sudden urge to confess to Gojo, convince him to make this boy’s vision a reality. You think he deserves that much.

But your heart aches in a way it never has before—filled with this dreadful yearning for a man you know will never look at you the way you look at him. 

The whispers in the back of your mind come together and someone flickers to life, like the flame appearing from a lighter.

“This is beautiful, Megumi,” you whisper, sticking it onto the fridge with a magnet advertising Las Vegas. Something malicious squeezes around your lungs, digging it’s claws into your heart but you gulp back the pain. 

Megumi is none the wiser, nodding in agreement and waiting patiently for you to hand him his snack. He runs off, taking a seat on the couch and you watch him eat, realizing how sickeningly domestic this whole scene is. 

You hate it. 

Hours pass unceremoniously. Gojo barges in with a slam of the front door, practically shouting at the top of his lungs.

“There they are, my two favorite people!” he grins, kicking off his shoes. You close your laptop, leaving it on the couch as you get up just in time to dodge Gojo’s hug. He stumbles forward onto the couch where you were sitting previously.

While he grumbles about evil you are, you decide to grab the picture Megumi brought home. Once again, you’re struck by how domestic your actions are, and you hesitate. 

Gojo, however, is already making his way over to you, holding Megumi captive in his arms. “What’s that?” he asks with a nod of his head.

You turn it around, holding it up to show him and you watch carefully as his eyes flicker from person to person. His grin falls into a gentle smile, somewhat guarded, and he uses his free hand to take the picture from you.

Megumi takes this opportunity to launch himself out of Gojo’s grasp, scurrying off to his room. Your eyes follow him as he disappears behind a wall. When you bring your attention back to Gojo, he’s stepped closer to you.

His stare is intense, unwavering, and it directly contrasts with the amused smile he wears. You don’t know what to think—in fact, you can barely think at all. The air is thick with tension, it presses down on your chest until you can barely breathe. 

“It’s a perfect family, don’t you think?” he asks, his gaze softening as he looks down at the drawing. The atmosphere shifts but you still feel breathless, filled with this ache to wrap yourself around him. 

“Yeah, it is,” you say, ever so quietly because you’re scared that anything louder would break this feeling. He’s so close, you could close the gap and kiss him right now. 

There’s a crash, a large stack of books laying on the floor, papers scattered everywhere. Megumi stands next to it, eyes wide and terrified. His small hands curl into little fists and he takes a deep breath. “Didn’t mean to. Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Megumi,” you reply, swiftly moving to his side. The moment is forgotten, the kiss never shared. “It was an accident.”

He nods, but he stares at you with watery eyes and your heart breaks. Scooping him up and into your arms, you walk him out onto the balcony. He tries not to cry, you let him know that it’s okay if he wants to. 

Gojo remains standing in the kitchen, the drawing still in his hands. He stares at it for a long while, letting his mind wander to a world where it’s more than just a little kid’s silly art piece.

-: ✧ :-

You shove the last of your shirts into your suitcase, frowning at the way it bulges out when you zip it shut. It’s the week of Christmas, four days before the actual holiday, but you’re only just leaving to go back home. 

Megumi’s on break, so is Gojo, so you’re not really needed. You wish you were—you miss both of them.

Setting the suitcase upright, you go down your checklist of things, making sure you packed everything. You still haven’t mentally prepared to see your extended family, knowing they’ll be chasing after you with questions about your dating life.

‘Have you gotten a boyfriend yet?’ 

‘Can we expect an engagement soon?’ 

‘Any plans for kids?’

It’s all horrible and invasive and you don’t get why any of that matters to them at all. It’s your life, your choices. If you’re not bringing it up yourself, there’s no need to hound you about it every single time you see them.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket from a message, and you’re unsurprised to see that it’s from Gojo.

gojo 🤑: hey bbg 😳

you: kys  what do u want

gojo 🤑: what are ur christmas plans 🤔

You furrow your brows at the question, wondering why he asked at all. every single year, you always do the same thing.

you: going home…. what else would i be doing genius

gojo 🤑: LAMEEEEE i was gonna ask if u wanted to come over ig but whatever u hate me 😢😢😢

You finish off the conversation, letting him know that you do hate him, and that you need to get back to packing.

Knowing his circumstances, you know that Gojo is probably staying at home with Megumi. He can’t exactly weasel his way out of explaining the fact that he’s managed to adopt a kid. It’s most likely why he asked if you had plans, despite knowing that you do. You know he’s probably feeling lonely—it makes your heart twist and tear. 

You fight the urge to ask him to join you as you drive home.

On Megumi’s birthday, Gojo proposes that you facetime him. You agree, obviously wanting to see the little boy who’s become so precious to you so quickly. The first thing Megumi does upon seeing your face is frown. 

“Leave your family. I don’t like Gojo.”

You burst into laughter at the sight of your best friend’s face, jaw dropped in a mixture of shock and offense. Gojo launches into a rant about how Megumi is ungrateful, which only makes the situation funnier. 

Megumi, however, finds none of this amusing.

“I love you, Megumi,” you say between breaths, “Happy birthday!”

“Whatever,” he grumbles, but you catch a glimpse of his cheeks reddening as he runs off, leaving you with a still offended Gojo.

You watch him shuffle around, propping up his phone against something. “What’s your secret, huh? What do you have that I don’t?”

"I’m just better.”

Your smile must be infectious, Gojo ditching his deep frown for a grin of his own. His eyes crinkle as you’re met with the whites of his teeth, cheeks bunching up. You can’t stand the effect he has on you, the way you melt into nothing the moment he looks your way.

“I guess you and Megumi are just perfect for each other,” he sighs, avoiding your gaze through the call. “It’s cute.”

You’re stunned into silence at his genuine words, and your heart wrenches painfully as you picture the drawing Megumi came home with. Gojo ends the call quickly, telling you he’s busy. You don’t believe it but you let him leave, allowing yourself some space from him as well.

At one point, he frantically texts you letting you know that he forgot to get Megumi a gift, begging for ideas. 

gojo 🤑: I CANRT FINF HIS CHRISARMAS LIADT ANWWER ME THIAS IS AN EMERGYE SOS 🆘🆘🆘🆘🆘🆘🆘🆘🆘

you:  OMFG DO U HAVE AN OFF SWITCH have u tried his room.

gojo 🤑: omg look at u my little genius 🥰

You stare at his messages, finding yourself wishing for his emoji keyboard to glitch out and break. The next text he sends you is a picture of Megumi’s wish list. You’re fairly certain that Megumi doesn’t believe in Santa, but it’s cute that he’s written a list anyway.

They’re all fairly normal: art supplies, animal books, toys you’ve never heard of. But what sticks out is the last bullet point, written neatly. 

gojo 🤑: he wants u to be his family  quick wrap urself up with a bow and mail urself to us 🎁 u would make a cute present 😘😘😘

You disregard Gojo’s texts for the time being, focused entirely on Megumi’s last wish. The fact that you appeared at all is shocking, considering the fact that you’ve only known him for a little over a week. 

you: yeah i’m wrapping myself up rn

gojo 🤑: pics or it didnt happen 😋

You scoff out a laugh, typing up your response. Your mind is still dwindling on the wish list, on Megumi in general. He’s quickly taken up residence inside your heart and it feels good to know that you’ve been able to do the same. 

Christmas passes slowly, filled with the overwhelming scent of cinnamon spice and heart-warming laughter. Of course, you didn’t escape the questions from your extended family. As usual, you brushed them off, eager to get out of the only conversation they seem to want with you.

But you like Christmas, and this year, it’s made better by the several pictures Gojo’s been sending you of him and Megumi. In one, they’re ice-skating. In another, they’re making a gingerbread house. It’s all typical Christmas activities but it warms your heart and you want nothing more than to be there with them.

You expect the rest of your holiday break to slip by, nothing special or new. You debated heading home earlier, but decided against it assuming most of your friends already have their respective plans. 

You weren’t expecting Gojo to invite you to his New Year’s party. In fact, you weren’t expecting him to hold a party at all. As much as he likes parties, Gojo’s never one to throw one, especially at his place. 

In retrospect, going was probably a bad idea. If only you knew that before you agreed. 

-: ✧ :-

This kind of party is one you’re entirely unfamiliar with.

Most of the parties you’ve attended never exceeded over ten people, small gatherings of close friends clearing out their busy schedules to hang out together once again like they used to. These kinds of parties are relaxed, you don’t have to dress up, you don’t have to put up a front.

This New Year’s party is the kind that coaxes you into a simple black dress, perhaps too short, perhaps too low cut. This kind of party paints your lips a dark berry color that transfers onto your cup, filled with alcohol that burns as it slides down your throat.

This kind of party plays music so loud, it crawls under your skin, seeping into your head. You feel the bass reverberate throughout your chest, forcing your heart to beat faster like adrenaline coursing through your veins.

To say you feel out of your element would be a gross understatement. Everyone around you is almost a stranger, wearing features you only vaguely recognize, enough for you to shoot them a smile and a nod as a greeting. 

You examine your hands as you stand leaning against a wall, watching people dance, laugh, shout. You’ve hidden yourself away in the dark (rather pathetic, you think), not knowing how to engage and not really wanting to either. 

“I figured you’d be in some corner,” a gentle hand touches your elbow as Shoko squeezes herself past a small group of people to stand next to you.

You smile at her, grateful to find at least one familiar face. “You must not know me at all, Shoko, I love dancing with sweaty strangers.” Your sarcasm isn’t lost on her and she lets out a laugh, taking a drag from her cigarette. 

You’re surprised that Gojo even let her smoke inside, but part of you feels like he’s unaware she’s doing it at all. 

She blows out, tendrils of smoke twisting around you both, invading your senses. Shoko looks at you out of the corner of her eye, somewhat relaxed, very curious. “You’re still in love with Gojo?”

You blanch at her words, turning to face her though she remains, still regarding you through her peripheral. 

“You’re too easy to read,” she smiles, her posture curved, allowing her to relax against the wall. “I’m surprised you’ve gone this long without telling him.”

It’s probably the alcohol impairing your judgment, but you frown, sighing into your cup. “My alternative is losing him forever, so I can’t exactly be picky.” You don’t intend on letting her into your thoughts this way, even if it’s only a sliver of the way you feel. 

It would’ve been better to brush her off with a joke. Shoko doesn’t seem to care, humming, “ I don’t know, I think you’d be in for a surprise.”

“Well, I hate surprises.”

Time flies by but the night remains young. You’ve loosened up a bit thanks to the alcohol, laughing freely, no longer worried about your attire. Your two person party in the corner steadily grew, Nanami and Getou joining you after some time. 

Gojo is still missing, but you suspect he’s out being a good host.

You’ve laid your head on Shoko’s shoulders, laughing at Nanami recounting stories from the tutoring he’s been busy with. Getou stands to your left, reaching out a hand towards you whenever you stumble slightly. 

Your cup is empty and you make no moves to fill it again, not wanting to exit the good conversation you’re having. You like hearing Nanami talk about his work, hearing Shoko complain about her lab partner, and hearing Getou’s jokes. 

The four of you decide to get some food in an attempt to sober up. It’s then that Gojo finally shows up. The crowd parts for him like he’s someone important. Thanks to the effects of the alcohol wearing off, you can tell it’s because he’s shouting his way through the crowd. 

“Why are you losers hiding from the party?” he asks, shooting Shoko a glare when she takes a drag of her cigarette. She simply blinks at him, making no move to throw it out. 

“Not hiding,” you respond, opening your mouth to bite down on the slice of pizza Getou’s trying to feed you. “Just eating.” Your words come out muffled thanks to the food. Getou shuffles his chair closer to your side.

Gojo lets his gaze settle on you, lips slightly parted as his eyes wander, taking in your dress and your half-opaque lipstick. You think you see his eyes widen, you can’t be sure. You think you see him almost gulp. You can’t be sure. 

Gojo reluctantly tears his stare away from you, watching his friend closely, jaw clenched. His anger is only invisible to you, the sight causing Shoko to laugh (she marvels at your idiocy often). He grabs a chair and pushes it up right next to yours on the opposite side, arms crossed. 

He sits silently, glaring at you and Getou, though you hardly notice. You’re too engrossed in whatever story Getou’s telling you. He reaches over to brush some hair out of your eyes; Gojo stands up abruptly, his hand wrapping around your wrist.

“Actually, I have some important news to tell you,” he says, words short and succinct as he drags you away from the table. 

You’re too confused to stop him from pulling you all the way to the hallway that opens up into his bedroom. It’s only then that you wriggle free from his grip, staring at him, wondering what his problem is.

“What’re you–”

Your back is pressed against the wall, he stands a few steps in front of you. He’s breathing hard and his eyes are blown wide and you wonder who this man is—the worry creasing his forehead makes him seem lightyears away from the satoru you know. 

“Can I ask you a question?” he asks, the sentence stumbling out of his mouth like he wasn’t quite ready to say it. Gojo doesn’t give you the chance to answer him, already talking once again. 

“Go you like Suguru?” he asks, taking a few steps closer, until he’s a hair’s width away from you. 

The question is so out of left field, you’re forced to take a moment and process it. Gojo’s gaze hardens at your silence, and you stave off the urge to make a joke out of this situation. Uncertainty makes your stomach churn—you’ve yet to see your best friend like this.

There’s a crease between his brows, lips downturned but not quite a frown. His words still hang heavy in the air, broken jealousy rearing its ugly head. His hand loosens around your wrist, but he doesn’t pull away.

You take a deep breath, feeling like you’ve taken in all the air left between you and him. “No. No, I don’t,” you whisper, heart beating so fast you almost expect the muscle to burst within your chest. 

Your admission makes his shoulders drop, the tense atmosphere almost melting away altogether. Gojo tightens his fingers around your wrist once more, bridging the gap between you both. He hovers above you, his free hand placed against the wall as he cages you against it. 

Despite the years you’ve known him, sometimes you find it so hard to read him, understand his motivations. Gojo leans close, his breath fanning over your lips. 

“So you just really like being mean to me,” he mutters and you furrow your brows, gnawing at your bottom lip. 

“I haven’t said one mean thing to you all night, Satoru,” you say quietly, eyes downcast, avoiding his attentive stare. His eyes, as blue as the sky, still shimmer in the dark and you watch from beneath your lashes as they shift to a dulled luster. 

Gojo drops his head into the crook of your neck, you can feel his lips move against your skin as he speaks, “There’s more than one way to be mean.” 

Your breath is caught in your throat. He’s running his nose up your neck, smearing a kiss below your jaw. Your lack of resistance only emboldens him further and he kisses the same spot once again.

And you let him, gulping back the unpleasant feelings that float to the tip of your tongue because who are you to ruin this? On another night, you might have untangled yourself from him, walking away and creating necessary distance between you both.

But he’s exactly where you want him, where you’ve been longing for him. 

So tonight, you simply mutter his name in warning, your voice cracking softly as he slides his hand around your waist. His touch burns, it's as though the material of your dress simply doesn’t exist under the weight of his palm. 

Gojo presses his mouth to your ear. When he speaks, he sounds so resigned, almost like the woman that sits in your mind, taunting you with the possibility of everything unraveling. She licks at your wounds and her breath burns.

“I feel so…stupid when it comes to you,” he rasps out, pulling you closer. “You drive me crazy and I don’t know what to do–” he cuts himself off before he gets too deep into his rambling. Anticipation steadily rises up your chest, higher and higher and higher.

“It’s always been you,” Gojo says, letting you see his face once more. he leans over you, simply staring, the loud music fading away until it’s nothing but a beat behind the incessant thrum of your heart. 

The woman makes herself apparent, hiding just behind your eyes, her words piercing your skin.

You gather the courage to really look at him, ignoring the way the woman in your head sighs, telling you it’s not worth it—telling you it’ll hurt. She tells you it’s only going to ache, and tear, and rip apart. You shake her away. his eyes have you trapped in them, drowning in his blue, your hands wrinkling the fabric of his shirt. He doesn’t waver, shifting his gaze down to your lips.

“I love you,” he breathes out, his words so full of promise you nearly believe it. But then you remember where you are, you remember what you’ve been doing.

Your hands rest on his shoulders, feeling the cotton material of his shirt under your fingertips. “You can’t mean that,” you reply in a whisper. 

The woman in your head shrieks at you until her voice turns hoarse and raw. You grab the collar of his shirt, closing the gap, your lips meeting his. Gojo fists the silk of your dress, creasing the material against his palm. Your trembling hand brushes along his cheek and he chases after your touch, tilting his head to the side, nose bumping against yours. He’s presses you into the wall, your spine meeting the cold plaster as goosebumps erupt down your arms. 

The woman shouts, the woman regrets. The woman tells you you’re making a mistake but she’s inevitably drowned out by the sound of your blood rushing in your ears. Gojo brings his hand up to your jaw, fingers squeezing desperately. His kiss is all tongue and teeth, he steals your breath away.

A fire festers in the pit of your stomach, it’s flames fueled by his touch, his warmth, everything him. It curls into a burning in your chest. Insatiable greed drives Gojo to take you into his arms, your feet stumbling against each other’s as you make your way into his room. 

Your back hits his comforter, you pull him closer.

The woman sits silently and weeps.

-: ✧ :-

You wake up with a dull pounding behind your eyes and a painful silence inside your mind. Warmth envelops you as you twist and turn under Gojo’s heavy blankets—it’s reminiscent of an earlier time. 

Beams of sunlight force your eyes open and you prop yourself up, elbows sinking into Gojo’s expensive mattress. Cradling your head in your hand, you take in your surroundings: the stark white sheets, Gojo’s sleeping figure next to you.

You watch him sleep for several moments, marveling at the fact that Gojo is asleep at all. He’s always had trouble with insomnia, seeing him rest so peacefully makes you smile. 

You let your gaze sweep over his face, pressed into the pillow, messy hair obscuring his eyes. His shoulders are bare, and if last time taught you anything, it’s that Gojo has no problem with appearing borderline naked in front of you.

Scoffing, you turn to check the nightstand for your phone, pausing when a cold draft seems to linger over your arms and chest a bit stronger than usual. A pile of fabric resting against the mahogany floors catches your eye, and you stare at it blankly before everything begins to fall into place.

Your fragmented memories connect, the night floods back to you, knocking the air from your lungs.

Your dress on the floor, the very obvious smear of berry colored lipstick against his jaw. Your incredibly apparent lack of clothing.

Panic digs into your chest. The woman comes into view once more, her unwavering gaze staring at you with contempt. She crawls out of your chest, standing before you, several heads taller.

‘You messed everything up,’ she seethes. Your heart beats faster. ‘He’ll never want to see you again,’ she says, her words stinging like a slap. It becomes harder to breathe. 

You don’t stick around to see what else she has to say, grabbing your dress off the floor with shaky hands. You pull it back on messily, grabbing your phone, rushing out of his bedroom as tears cling to your lashes.

Thankfully, everyone seems to have cleared out of the apartment.

You don’t allow yourself to think, opening up the front door, rushing down the stairwell until you’re standing in the lobby of his apartment building. It’s too cold—they always crank up the air conditioning even if it’s the middle of winter. 

The lady behind the desk looks at you with pity. You suppress the urge to vomit. Tears stream down your cheeks, trailing along your chin before they fall. You know you must look a mess. You wonder where else you left your berry colored lips. 

You call Shoko; she’s hungover when she picks up but she hears the pain in your voice and she hears you bite back your tears. She’ll be there soon, she promises and you stand, waiting. 

You sit in her car, staring out the window. She tries to make you feel better by playing your favorite songs—it doesn’t do much to help. The song reminds you of Megumi. 

The thought of Megumi sends you spiraling further. How can you face Megumi after this? How can you face Gojo? He might not remember, but you always will. You’ll always remember the warmth of his hands, the way he held you near like you were everything. 

The woman tells you you’re sick.

Shoko eyes you, taking in your tear-stained face. You don’t want her pity either, digging your nails into your palm as hard as you can. She’s stopped at a red light and she reaches over to take your hand in hers.

“You have to figure out where you both stand,” she says, calm and rational as always. Sometimes, you wish she could see things the way you do. You wish she could hear the woman who haunts you. 

“I know,” you whisper, closing your eyes as you lean your head back against the seat. The car starts moving again. “I don’t want to.” Your stomach churns, an awful mixture of anxiety and hurt rolling up your throat. 

You slept with Gojo.

You feel sick. The woman slices at you with her knives. ‘You don’t deserve him at all.’

Shoko white knuckles the steering wheel. She never takes kindly to your tears, it took you a while to figure out that it’s because she cares too much to see you cry. 

“You should confess. It’ll be good for your heart and mind,” she suggests as you see your apartment come into view. You’re not ready to be left alone with the woman. The cuts from her knives are still fresh, they still bleed.

You shake your head ever so slightly. “No,” you reply, selfishness motivating your choices more than anything. “I’m going to pretend I don’t remember—I’ll act like I was too drunk to remember.”

Shoko disagrees with you, and she lets you know as much as she can before you’re getting out of her car, walking towards your apartment. Your dress feels too short, you tug it down. The sunlight burns your scalp and you rush indoors.

As soon as you kick off your heels, Gojo texts you. Your phone is nearly dead and you debate putting off responding, excusing yourself with the fact that your phone ran out of power. You grow too curious, though, and you read his message.

gojo 🤑: hey when did u get home?

The striking lack of emojis makes the text feel impersonal, far from the man you know. The woman laughs at you.

‘He hates you.’

you:  shoko picked me up 

You pause, debating whether you should add more. Let him know that you don’t remember, let him know that you believe nothing happened.

you: i rly went overboard on the alcohol ig  i barely remember anything 

You watch the bubble indicating he’s typing appear and disappear. Your nerves fizzle and buzz, teeth sinking into your lips until you draw blood. ‘He hates you,’ the woman whispers.

gojo 🤑: yeah me too lol

You hate it. 

You’re reading into it too much, you think, but the woman says no. Her lithe fingers encircle your arms, her sadness turning you sick. You agonize over your words, agonize over his texts. You can’t face Gojo. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to see Megumi again.

‘You’re selfish,’ the woman sneers, watching you tremble. ‘Do you think you deserve to see him?’

‘What would he think of you?’

‘You’ve lost both of them.’

‘You should’ve listened to me.’

You don’t know what to say to her. She draws her arm back and strikes you.

-: ✧ :-

The following day, Gojo informs you that Megumi asked for you to babysit him. 

You had decided you would say no, for your own sake. The woman agreed so it must be the right choice. But then he tells you that Megumi’s insisting—that he misses you—and how can you say no?

So you sit on the couch, right next to Megumi as he reads from his new book (a Christmas present from Gojo). He’s laying against you, his head resting against your arm. Neither you, nor Gojo, have said a single word to each other.

It feels wrong, this silence that fills the room. It feels heavy. It keeps its palms pressed tightly against your lips, keeping your words trapped inside. You wonder if Megumi can feel it too.

Reaching over, you gently brush some of his hair out of his eyes and he stills, turning around to look up at you. His eyes are wide, they waver as they flicker between you and Gojo.

“Did you guys fight?”

You notice the way he wraps his arms around himself, as if to soothe. He takes a long breath. Megumi’s eyes widen and you realize that he’s scared.

You rush to explain, “No! No, we didn’t fight.” He doesn’t seem to believe you; Gojo walks over to you both, taking a seat next to him. 

“We’re just tired, Megumi,” he tells him, a hand rubbing circles into his back. You feel terrible. 

‘This is all your fault,’ the woman whispers. 

It’s silent again as Gojo shuffles around, getting ready to leave for his Model UN meeting. He stands at the doorway, looking at you for a moment. You can’t read him, he doesn’t explain. Gojo waves goodbye and leaves.

You watch Megumi read for a few minutes more, the aftertaste of the previous conversation still lingering on your tongue. He must feel your stare, looking up from his book.

“You’re my favorite person ever,” he admits—he sounds completely serious. You’re taken aback by his honesty, your heart melting as a smile tugs on the corners of your mouth. You reach forward, opening your arms out for a hug. Megumi quickly wraps his arms around you.

His hands cling to the fabric of your shirt, “If you did fight with Gojo, please forgive him. Don’t leave.”

‘Look what you’ve done,’ the woman says, the weight of her words make you feel like you’re drowning. 

"I won’t leave you,” you reply, ignoring the woman and her hurt. Megumi looks back at you, holding out his pinky for you. You wrap your own around his much smaller one, “Pinky promise.”

You let him rest his head against your chest, your steady heartbeat lulling him to sleep. The woman reminds you how undeserving you are of what you have. You know the woman is right. 

When Gojo gets home, he asks if you’d like to stay for dinner. Every single part of you wants to say yes, and it’s at the tip of your tongue, the answer is habitual. But this time, you turn him down. You can’t stay longer—you can’t be around him. You slip out the front door before you can see the twinkle in his eyes diminish until it’s gone. 

You get home, lay on the carpeted floor of your bedroom, and call Shoko. She tells you to confess or die. You tell her you’d rather die.

‘It would be for the best,’ the woman snickers. 

-: ✧ :-

There’s a growing tension between you and Gojo as of late, clearly the result of what happened at the New Year’s party. You keep on acting as though you don’t remember the way he loved you, but it gets harder to do so the more you see him.

You can’t avoid him, you’d be breaking your promise to Megumi.

Everything left unsaid lingers in the distance you keep with him, and it unsheathes it’s claws, digging into you and tearing you apart. Your relationship with Gojo is strained. It hurts because he’s your best friend.

The woman reminds you that there’s no one to blame but yourself.

She hasn’t left you alone since the night of the party, tied to you like some kind of curse. She appears in the mirror when you criticize yourself, egging you on to say worse things. She stands by your side when you make a mistake, degrading you until you feel like nothing.

She’s having the time of her life. You just can’t get rid of her. She’s right about you.

This time, as you stand waiting for Megumi, his school is decorated in a plethora of pinks, reds, and whites. Valentine’s Day is swiftly approaching and it fills you with a kind of bitterness you keep hidden. 

Cupid’s arrows might have missed you this year, but there’s always the next.

Part of you realizes that it’s your own fault, waiting for Gojo to step up and say something. When that failed you, you waited for your feelings to disappear. Perhaps, you should have taken some initiative, forced those feelings out of you until every last remaining bit is ripped from your heart.

Your loneliness is your own doing. The woman laughs in agreement, your pain is nothing but a joke to her. Her laughter, however, is hollow and doesn't meet her eyes.

Megumi runs up to you as he often does, pulling you from your thoughts. The woman hides away to watch. He hands you a little heart shaped box and a card. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Megumi grumbles, walking off ahead of you to get to the car. You smile down at the chocolates and the handmade card. Something tender and sweet fills up your chest—you feel lighthearted. 

‘Do you deserve this?’ the woman snarls, reaching out to knock your gifts out of your hands. You hold them away from her poisonous touch.

Megumi holds onto your index finger as you lead him up the stairwell to Gojo’s apartment. You’re surprised to find him inside instead of at class, like he should be. He grins at you and Megumi as you both walk inside, his eyes dropping to the card and chocolates in your hand.

You watch as he stands up, stretching his arms up. His shirt rides up around his waist, you turn away faster than light.

“You got her something for Valentine’s but nothing for your old man?” he asks, grabbing Megumi so that he can plant a kiss on the boy’s chubby cheek.

“You suck and she doesn’t.”

“You are so cruel.”

Your relationship with Gojo remains rocky, but times like these still make you yearn for that domestic life. Sometime in the future, you hope you get to have this. 

Gojo lets Megumi disappear into his room, watching you sink into the couch. He follows suit, sitting down next to you. He leaves too much space between you, like there’s an invisible wall keeping him out. 

“Valentine’s Day is coming up,” he says, though you don’t know what for. You want to say that you know, that it doesn’t matter to you unless you’re spending the day with him. 

“Yeah, but why would I care?” you reply, laughing though the sound comes out bitter and hurt. He grins at you, tilting his head. 

“Who knows? Maybe you have a secret admirer.”

You stay quiet for a moment, thinking about what he had said. Secret admirer or not, you’re confident it wouldn’t be the person you want. Gojo has better things to do, probably has someone to see. What would he want with you?

Why would he even look your way? You’re his best friend—that’s where you have remained for 14 years and it’s where you’ll remain for as long as you know him.

The woman sits to your left, reaching out her hand to smooth down your hair. Her gesture appears comforting but anxiety swirls deep within you at her touch.

‘Don’t let him know how you feel,’ she whispers in warning.

“So? I don’t care. I don’t like anyone right now, a secret admirer would mean nothing to me.”

“Oh.”

You face him then, taking in the soft frown he wears. His jaw is clenched, brows furrowed. The blue of his eyes, your favorite blue, lacks it’s usual sparkle. His shoulders hunched over; Gojo looks like a wounded animal. He looks tired. 

As soon as he notices your stare, he straightens up and gives you a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He stays quiet for the rest of the night and you can’t help but feel it’s your fault. You remind yourself he’s tired, but the woman tells you that he must have remembered the events from the party. 

You leave his house sooner than you would have liked. Gojo says goodbye with a hug, his arms squeezing you tight, pressing you to his chest until you can hear his heart beating. 

-: ✧ :-

You feel like Valentine’s Day crept up on you too quickly, like you had blinked and suddenly the world is celebrating their lovers. 

It’s sunny and warm, the usual chill of February replaced with a gentle breeze that feels soft against your cheek and in your hair. Like it’s mother nature’s gentle caress letting you know that you’ll be fine today.

The woman stays quiet. 

You walk along the sidewalk in front of your apartment building. You had woken up today expecting something at you front door, perhaps from a secret admirer like Gojo had suggested. Nothing came.

It left a bitter taste in your mouth, your chest tightening, but you got over it as fast as it came. You refuse to fester in hurt, even if the woman fans the flames of your pain.

Blinking up at the sun, you watch the old couple across the street walk arm in arm. The old man had gotten his wife a bouquet of her favorite flowers (you know they’re her favorite because she told you so). She’s wearing a new heart pendant around her neck. Their hands remain intertwined as they head down. 

You silently plead for your chance at love. 

Today, Megumi’s spending the day at Nanami’s house, along with a few of the kids he tutors. You’ve been absolved of your babysitting responsibilities. You miss the little boy, though.

You’re only a few minutes into your walk when you phone buzzes with a text from Gojo.

gojo 🤑: ur not busy today right?????? lets go for a drive bbg 😉

you:  i wish i never met you.

You hardly mean it. Rather, you’re incredibly relieved that he’s back to his usual self, using horrible emojis to spice up his texts. You hate to admit it but you missed him. 

Maybe you were pathetic for spending Valentine’s Day with your crush, a man who remains just out of your reach. You don’t dwell on it as you climb into Gojo’s car, even when the woman bares her teeth at you.

Gojo plays sickeningly romantic music as he drives, making fun of you for spending valentine’s day with him instead of a boyfriend. You’re quick to remind him that he’s in the same position. He falls silent but you notice that the shine in his sky blue eyes are back. You hope, this time, that it’s here to stay. 

He parks a few feet away from a playground, the structures old and somewhat rusty. You realize that it’s the playground where you both first met each other. 

Gojo runs over to your side, opening the door for you. He walks next to you, his shoulder brushing yours, your fingers aching to be held by him. You let him pull you to the spot where his mother took a picture of both of you 14 years ago. 

It’s certainly strange being back here.

You hear him take a deep breath. Gojo’s facing forward, seemingly entranced by the swing-set in front of him. You don’t take notice of his shaky hands. 

“You were the prettiest girl I had ever seen,” he says finally, breathing deeply once again. “Actually– I thought you were the prettiest girl in the whole world.”

“What are you talking about?” you ask with a soft laugh, utterly confused as to what he’s up to. Gojo doesn’t respond, he just keeps going.

“I ran into you on purpose, if I’m being honest. I thought we could become friends and then I’d get to be around you all the time.” 

Gojo reaches out his hand, hesitating as he thinks. The woman stays quiet when he takes your hand in his own. “But then you basically told me to fuck off–”

“I did not! I said go away or something.”

“Thats basically what kids say when they want to say ‘Fuck off’!”

He laughs, the sound warming your heart. Soft tendrils of sun peek through the canopy of the tree you stand under, making him glow and shine. He appears almost ethereal. 

“I was glad we got to be friends,” he mutters, his grip around your fingers getting tighter. “But nowadays, I kind of wish we weren’t.” Your heart stills and the woman opens her mouth for the first time today, conjuring up her ugly words.

“You’re still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” Gojo admits, his hand growing clammy but you barely notice it. “You’ll stay that way for the rest of my life—even when we’re old and wrinkly.”

“How sweet,” you grin, but it’s a front to hide the way he tugs at your heart, gentle hands keeping you in his grasp; it’s where you’ll stay for as long as he’ll have you. However, you still find yourself to be guarded, hesitant about Gojo and his words.

The woman tells you it’s not what you think it is. Her past misfortunes flood your mind, her sadness is contagious.

Gojo finally faces you, taking both your hands in his. His eyes watch you carefully and you wonder if he can see through them, see the woman waiting inside, hurt and scared. 

“I know you said you don’t have feelings for anyone,” he starts, looking to the side. You can feel his heart beating at his fingertips. “And I’m probably the last person you want to hear this from, but I owe it to you.

“I love you,” he sighs and it feels like taking a breath of relief. Gojo searches your eyes, vivid cerulean brighter than the sun itself. You reach forward, hands on either side of his face. You tremble and you shake—you can’t believe this is real.

He seems to understand, instinctively letting his hands rest against your hips. 

“Love you too,” you say, unadulterated joy lighting up your chest and your eyes. Your smile is blinding, cheeks hiding your eyes. Gojo steps closer while he pulls you against his chest. His heart is racing, but it could be your own that you’re feeling. You’re not quite sure where he ends and you begin. 

He cups your cheek, his touch soft and light. “Can I kiss you now? I haven’t stopped thinking about it since the party.”

You tense at the mention of the party, but you nod your head and shove that night out of your mind. You can shelve that conversation for later. 

Gojo leans forward with your nod, pulling you towards him. Your lips meet, gently at first, like you’re both unsure of how to go about it. He’s hesitant without alcohol to grant him courage, but as you wrap your arms around his neck, he grows bolder.

Gojo pours every last bit of his desire for you, his yearning for you, past his lips. You can feel him grin, and it pulls a smile from you too. 

You have him exactly where you want him.

When you return home, hand in hand, Megumi perks up at the sight of you both. Getou sits next to him, assigned to pick him up from Nanami’s place after Gojo decided to meet up with you.

Getou raises an eyebrow at your hand held tightly in Gojo’s, your head resting against his shoulder. “What did i miss?”

“Nothing at all,” you reply, holding out an arm for megumi as he runs into your embrace.

The woman simply smiles.

-: ✧ :-

Gojo watches you sleep, chest rising and falling steadily, your soft breaths being the only sound in the room. He sits and he admires and he’s struck with the overwhelming urge to pull you into his arms. Gojo wishes he could tell you everything he feels for you, but his emotions are often illegible jumbles of yearning, want, desire, and love—he just can’t put it into words.

He knows you’re it for him. He hopes you feel the same.

Gojo leans over and grabs the plastic water bottle left on his nightstand, the plastic crinkling. He winces, hoping it’s not loud enough to wake you. You remain sleeping and he smiles, fishing the small ring of plastic from the top of the bottle. 

It’s big, the real one will be tailored to your size, he thinks as he takes your hand. His touch is gentle as he slides the plastic ring onto your ring finger, watching it hang loosely.

“This’ll do for now,” he decides. the real one will be much prettier, but not grand. A shiny band with a few rhinestones– no, your birthstone. Maybe his too but he feels that might be too tacky.

Gojo lays back down, curling around you until his head is hidden in the crook of your neck. He hopes you’ll like it. He hopes you’ll say yes. 

He’s always loved you. For him, it’s always been you. 

thanks to mitzi and earth and six for hyping this monstrosity up so glad its not rotting away in my drafts anymore

𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐎𝐋𝐃-𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐎𝐘 !

⟣ sypnosis. you were curious if your boyfriend would pass a ‘loyalty test’ that you’ve seen on social media and you decide to see for yourself, only to discover something much more . . . heartwarming.

⟣ tags. gojo satoru x female reader. mostly tooth rotting fluff. talks about cheating / a sprinkle of trust issues from reader. the rest is satoru just being lovesick.

⟣ note. uhhhh… idk just a random idea i got at three am on a saturday night after being woken up from a nightmare >_< enjoy .

you don’t think satoru would actually ever cheat on you. your curiosity just got the best of you when you saw that one girl do a ‘loyalty test’ on her boyfriend. it was quite simple—testing if your partner would hand you their phone without being suspiciously defensive.

therefore you walked into satoru’s room and spotted him laying on his side, his back facing the door. he didn’t have any earphones in so you could hear the sounds of a movie playing on the phone he held in his hands.

he seemed so peaceful and content that you were already feeling bad for disturbing him with your silly test. you moved to sit on the edge of the bed and cleared your throat, making your presence known as if the sorcerer hadn’t sensed it moments ago.

“are you cheating on me?”

blunt and straight to the point.

satoru pauses the show on his phone and looks at you like you had said the most outrageous thing there is (to him, you really did). he drops the device on the bed and turns his body to face yours; “well—hello to you too, baby.”

he runs a hand through his hair before sitting up against the headboard with a raised brow, one hand cautiously reaching out for you. satoru was thinking about all the things he has said or done previously that could’ve possibly make you think he was screwing around behind your back. his mind worked fast, though he couldn’t come up with any logical explanation.

“answer my question please, ‘toru.” you mumble, feeling slightly guilty for doing this to your lover. you could see the confusion plastered on his face.

“no, i am not.” satoru shakes his head whilst holding your hand in his, thumb brushing against the back of it, “what makes you think that?”

you weren’t about to say ‘oh nevermind then! just a dumb thing that i saw on tiktok’—no, there was still one thing left to do. even if you’re so super sure that your boyfriend was hiding nothing from you. maybe there was an one in a million chance that your intuition was wrong. or maybe it’s just your underlying trust issues speaking.

“uhh, just wanted.. to check.. i guess?” you clear your throat and take a deep inhale before putting your hand out to satoru, palm up.

the white-haired sorcerer looks from your hand to you, and back. he doesn’t know what that indicated, so he takes a simple guess; satoru places his chin on your palm, giving you an amused kind of grin. you raise an eyebrow as he rests his head on your hand—which wasn’t what you wanted to gain from your gesture.

but you couldn’t blame him. it was cute that that was the first thing he thought of doing.

“you’re always welcome to check. got nothin’ to hide anyway.” he shrugs, not offended by your accusation in the slightest. you see the way his blue eyes look up at you—in a way that shows his pure, unadulterated adoration for you.

you nod and scratch satoru under his chin, to which he smiles and closes his eyes, enjoying the tingling touch, “then can i .. look through your phone?”

without an ounce of hesitation, he had placed his phone unlocked in your hand. satoru doesn’t care much about privacy anyway—you’re his girlfriend, you’re the only one allowed to know every single thing about him, “of course, baby.”

your eyes land on the screen and your jaw drops as you see his home screen; a picture of you up close, sleeping with your cheek squished against his arm, own hands resting near your head and . . . is that drool trickling down your chin?

“oops, sorry, you were too cute not to take a picture of.” satoru chuckles as he sees your reaction. he lays back on his side, elbow propped on the pillow with his head resting against his hand—watching you go through his phone with a relaxed look.

you roll your eyes playfully before starting your search. your finger swiped across the screen and landed on the messenger app satoru uses. you click on it and scroll through his chats, but don’t find anything out of the ordinary. he recently talked to you, his first year students, nanami and shoko.

you curiously tap on his chat with shoko and don’t read anything interesting at first glance. you scroll up and take note of how satoru was the one who kept most of the conversation going. shoko’s replies were much shorter and curt—straight to the point.

but then your eyes land on a conversation from two weeks ago. satoru had showed shoko a bunch of selfies you had sent him that same day. he was telling her how ‘cute’ and ‘pretty’ you were, practically bragging about you being his girl.

you scroll up some more and see that he’s done the same many times before; sending shoko pictures of you and kind of rambling to her about how beautiful you are.

shoko—being the good friend she is—indulged into his little lovesick ramblings and agreed with every thing satoru said—even complimenting your looks herself. you begun to get embarrassed at this unexpected revelation.

when going through more of his chats with other people, you realise how much satoru loves to talk about you. you couldn’t possibly count the many times satoru had refused invitations from his students or other friends simply because he wanted to hang out with you instead.

you discovered that he even skipped two or three important meetings at the school to go spend the day with you—nanami scolding him via text each time he did so.

“damn..” you murmur and glance up at your lover after closing his messaging app. satoru was staring right back at you with the biggest grin you’ve ever seen on him.

he wasn’t embarrassed about you reading some of those cheesy and sappy texts at all. in fact, he was happy. he wants you to know how much he loves you (as if he doesn’t show you exactly that every day of the week).

“go on, sweets.” satoru nods towards his phone, encouraging you to continue your inspection. your eyes dart back towards the screen and you shyly swipe and scroll some more, eventually ending up in his gallery.

the first things you noticed: two albums dedicated to you. all were filled with hundreds of pictures of you (and him). one was named ‘my love,’ the other ‘me&my love’ — both with a heart at the end. scrolling through them, you noticed many images you hadn’t even realised were ever taken.

many of those pictures were also favourited in his gallery.

you nibble on your bottom lip and leave the gallery app even more flustered than before. you aimlessly click around some more on his phone. what really surprised you most was that you were named in his reminder app.

there were tons—all added in one long list. some were so pure that you couldn’t contain the slight tears in your eyes;

‘bring gf gifts’, ‘remind gf that she’s amazing’, ‘bring gf lunch’, ‘send gf daily selfie’, ‘daily cuddles w gf (if she wants)’, ‘give gf big smooch (important!)’, ‘check up on gf when away on business’, — satoru doesn’t actually need to have those reminders on his phone. his mind is so full of you that he’ll automatically remember to do everything, almost on autopilot. he just has those there for… well, just in case he somehow ends up forgetting.

you lock his phone after seeing enough and give it back to your lover. you wordlessly crawl over to him on the bed and snuggle up to his body, head resting on his chest.

“sorry.” you quietly apologise. you knew he wasn’t hiding anything, but the fact that you still went ahead and tried out that ‘loyalty test’ on someone as loyal and loving as satoru makes your heart ache a bit. especially after discovering just how smitten he’s with you.

“dunno why you’re apologising—but please don’t.” satoru whispers and rubs your back in a soothing manner, kissing the top of your head and smiling against your scalp afterwards, “it’s fiiine.”

he’s entertained by the reactions to your discoveries, even if those are but mere indications to the actual unending and undying love he holds for you in his heart.

you lift your head up and look at satoru. your bottom lip stuck out, corners of your mouth twitching slightly whilst your eyes started to get a bit glassy. you really felt bad—yet you also felt appreciated on the other hand. if you didn’t go through with your curious idea, you wouldn’t have gotten to know about any of this.

“aww, my sweet, sweet girl.” satoru coos and places two kisses right below each eye, tapping your nose with a grin. he adores the way you look and if it wasn’t for his self control, he’d have nibbled on those cheeks of yours out of playful aggression.

it’s then that satoru remembers one of his daily tasks; one he hadn’t properly done today.

you were caught off guard once more as satoru’s lips crashed down onto yours—no warning given whatsoever. his big hands held onto your cheeks, thumb rubbing the skin there whilst his glossy lips moved against yours in a gentle yet much sloppy way.

“there,” the white-haired man hums in content as he pulls away, giggling once he sees a bit of his saliva coat your mouth. he wipes it away with his thumb, “your smooch of the day.”

you couldn’t help but laugh at the exaggerated cringy way satoru said the latter—your boyfriend laughing right alongside you afterwards.

satoru wasn’t done with you, however. he had many other daily tasks that were yet to be fulfilled.

toh x omori

combining my 2 favorite fandoms because why not

25 years of ads peeled away

I love opening up this website first thing like the morning paper and immediately seeing multiple posts like "how to get rid of the evil clown on the dashboard". like oh is this what we're doing today

Part five is here! I had some trouble getting going with this one. Figuring out how to follow up the aftermath of the Toji fight was a bit of a challenge even though I already had an idea of how I wanted to go about it. This is one of the more dialog heavy chapters. Some background is given for reader. Part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 The next couple parts will be covering the events between Hidden inventory and Premature death. A whole lot can happen in a year after all. Suguru x reader x Satoru, GN!reader CW: Implied past child abuse though nothing is explicitly stated, descriptions of injuries in the aftermath of the fight from last chapter.Reader cries a lot which i mean is understandable. Word count:4K (Give or take)

Broken… You looked so broken laying on the ground with your arms at unnatural angles. It made Suguru feel sick as he takes several shaking steps toward you. He forces all his focus on you. He can see you’re breathing at least, shallow rapid breaths that shake your chest. He can’t say the same for Satoru. There’s no way he’s alive with how much blood has pooled all around him. Suguru tells himself he has to focus on who he can save.

Through his own pain he picks you as gently as he can. The blood from the wound in his chest mixes with the blood on your clothes. He wonders if it’s yours but doesn’t actually see injuries that would cause so much blood. His eyes flick over to Satoru’s still form and then back to you when you whimper. He feels both guilt and relief as he watches your face screw up in pain. You have enough life in you to still react to pain. You don’t wake up though. It’s for the best, he thinks bitterly. He doesn’t know how to face you right now. It’s because he and Satoru wanted you to come along that you’re like this now. Unbidden a question passes his lips, “Why’d you fight him…? You had to know you didn't have a chance.” He cradles you to his chest, gritting his teeth. He needs to get the both of you to help. The fact that you’re still alive, still with him, is something he refuses to let slip away. The bastard who did all this clearly has no qualms killing, he can only assume you’re still alive for the same reason he is but that probably won’t last if you don’t get medical attention.

____

When you wake it’s in a too stiff bed with scratchy sheets. The air smells like a combination of antiseptic and cursed energy. You’re slow to open your eyes, your head is throbbing and your eyelids feel heavy. Why are you here? And where is here? You flex your hands and your arms throb dully. 

“You’re awake.” The voice is both so familiar and so relieved and then he’s leaning into your space, dark hair loose and falling around you as he leans over, a gentle hand lightly pushing at your sternum to keep you from sitting up. “Easy, you shouldn’t move too fast even with Shoko’s healing.”

Suguru. Why is the sight of him so shocking, what happened- Memories of the mission come crashing down on you all at once. “Suguru…” your voice spills brokenly past your lips just like the tears down your cheeks. Your chest rises and falls rapidly and though it hurts, your body sore as you can ever remember it being you try to sit up, to get further into his space. 

He seems to realize what you’re doing and leans down further over you. His hands cup your face and he rests his forehead against yours. “Shhh, I know, just breathe. It’s okay, you’re okay. “

Under normal circumstances having him crowd into your space like this would have left you terribly flustered but not now. “It’s not okay though!” Your voice cracks. He gets what he wants though in the form of you staying down now that he’s close. He can feel you trembling like this. “We… the mission… We’re the only ones who..” You swallow hard. Despite the nerves in your arm’s protesting you raise them, shaking, to cover Suguru’s hands with your own. 

He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. “Not quite.” He’s glad that he at least can give you some good news. 

“What do you mean? I saw the bodies myself, Suguru.” you close your eyes and tears flick from your lashes onto his face. “I saw Riko! I saw Kuroi. I- I… fuck, Suguru I saw Satoru’s body. I cradled his hea-

Someone gently clears their throat in the doorway and Suguru pulls away from your face, the curtain of his hair lifting to reveal Satoru himself standing in the doorway to the infirmary. Suguru very carefully helps you sit up this time when you attempt it. He doesn’t think he's ever seen you look so stunned before. At least with him you’d never thought you’d seen his body, he imagined that made wrapping your mind around him being alive much easier. Especially knowing now that you’d held Satoru while thinking he was dead. “H-how? I- when I-”

Satoru takes three strides into the room and pulls a chair that had been pushed out beside the bed with him before plopping down next to you across from Suguru. You finally tear your eyes away from Satoru to glance back at Suguru and then back to Satoru when you confirm Suguru was looking where you had been, his face somber  but at least confirming he sees what you do and without any surprise. You begin to reach a hand toward him and Satoru takes it, holding your smaller hand in his. It’s warm and undeniably full of life as he squeezes your hand.

“How?” you swallow hard, fighting another wave of tears beginning to cloud your vision. “I held you, you were dead! There was no.. you weren’t breathing-” 

“I know.. And I can explain it I promise. Just try to calm down.” 

“Calm down? How can I calm down? I thought everyone died!” Your shaking intensifies, entirely overwhelmed. You should be relieved, you know that but instead your mind is left struggling to process everything.

“Both of you out. I thought seeing the two of you first thing may be too much.” Yaga was standing in the doorway, a severe look on his face. You weren’t aware of it but he’d already said his peace about the boys taking you along without permission. Given how the mission went he wasn’t as harsh as he could have been. You’d all been through enough. 

Suguru clenches his fists against his pants before getting up and Satoru doesn’t look any happier but releases your hand and gets up to follow. “W-wait-” Your voice comes out small and with fresh panic at seeing them leaving. 

They both look back at you and Suguru forces a smile. “We’ll be back later, promise.” And with that they push past Yaga who closes the door and goes to take Satoru’s seat. It probably takes at least an hour to get you calm enough to talk in a meaningful way but you get there. Exhausted, eyes red from crying, you look at the man who’d taken you in and been your guardian for the last two and half years. 

“I shouldn’t have let you stay on that mission. You were never meant to be in that situation.” He sits there, hands folded in front of him. 

“Wasn’t I though.. If not now, then later right? You told me that… that I'd see awful things.. That I'd see friends die if I became a sorcerer..” He wants to say something but he lets you continue, wants to know where your mind is going with this. “Afterall it’s only because of my potential use as a sorcerer you were able to take me in with the higher ups cutting through the red tape. Otherwise I'd still be in…” You wrinkle your nose and your eyebrows draw low when you think of your circumstances before. “I’d still choose this.” It pains you to say it but it's true. You draw your knees up to your chest and hug them, ignoring the way you middle protests with being scrunched up. You squeeze your eyes shut fighting back fresh tears, though Yaga is unsure if it’s from physical pain or emotional.

The large man’s heart breaks a little seeing you like that. It reminded him of when he’d found you. It had been an overseas trip to try and locate a foreign sorcerer that had once been affiliated with Jujutsu tech. Instead all he found was their grandchild in terrible circumstances. It was an extremely unorthodox situation but that’s what the jujutsu world was right? When he’d realized you’d inherited your grandparent’s technique he’d seen an opportunity to help and had taken it. Technically you’d ‘gone missing’ in official reports and had a new identity forged as a citizen in japan. Sometimes he wonders if he was giving you a worse life than you’d had before but that was a pretty low bar to try and dig under. 

“That doesn't mean you should rush to see the worst of what our world has to offer.” It pained him that you viewed yourself through the lens of how useful you thought you needed to be to justify being taken into a better home. That seeing hell was just the price that had to be paid. He thinks maybe he failed in a way since you were still thinking that way two and half years into your new life. 

“I’m not… “ You look at him over your blanket covered knees. You would struggle with the after effects of this mission for years if not the rest of your life. Even now that’s something you understood. Whenever you closed your eyes you saw the people you failed to save as well as Satoru. God you’d been so sure he was dead when you’d held him. Taking a shuddering breath you ask. “May I see them.. I think I’ll be okay.” 

“I think it’s better for you to rest at least until tomorrow.” 

“But-”

He rubs at his temples. “I won’t keep you from them. You will get to see them later but for now just do as I ask and rest.” He can tell from the look on your face that you want to argue and maybe you would if not for being so exhausted. You knew he was right about you needing rest. 

“Tomorrow for sure?”

He sighs. “Would you actually listen if I said no?” 

You crack the barest of smiles. “You’ve told me I'm a terrible liar. So no, I probably wouldn’t.”

He snorts. “And here I hoped Geto would at least be a positive influence.” He actually had, in ways both older boys had. You’d been getting more confident, coming out of your shell more than he’d seen you do in almost all the time he’d taken care of you. 

He makes sure you’re able to take care of yourself, waits to make sure you’re capable of at least getting to the bathroom on your own. It wouldn't do to leave without making sure you can actually get up if you needed something. Walking makes your insides throb but you’re able to manage. Once you’re settled in bed he takes his leave, closing the infirmary door behind him. Finally alone for the first time since waking up you take stock of your body, you were sore, arms aching but all put back in their proper place. That man had meant it when he’d said he’d cripple you. You were certain that without Shoko that would have been the outcome. You smooth your hands over your midsection. You only vaguely remember the impact of his fist compared to the stark memory of your arms being dislocated and broken. The bastard’s smug face as he’d made you look at him flashes in your mind. You don’t even know his name, only the pain that he’d caused. Was he still out there? Your hands start to tremble and you close your eyes and give your head a shake. You weren’t going to think about him right now.

You look around the moonlit room until your eyes land on the little side table next to the bed. On it is a glass of water along with your phone. You grab the device. It’s only got a five percent charge. It had been fully charged when you’d left the hotel the other morning and you wonder how long you’d been unconscious. At least since mid afternoon.. You check the date. “Ah. Over a day..” you murmur to yourself. Suddenly you really don’t care how tired you are, you’re not sure how long Suguru and Satoru have been waiting for you to get up since you’re unsure how long the both of them were down themselves but you decide it’s been long enough regardless. 

“Besides he never asked if I’d listen and rest tonight, just if I would tomorrow.” You may be bad at lying if directly asked something but a little lie by omission? You could do that. You’re about to at least attempt to get your dying little phone to text one of them, you’d probably only need to text one of them since they often stay with eachother, but your lil brick of a phone decides to flash you a picture of a battery and shut down right at that moment. Now perhaps you should have taken that as a sign to go back to bed but you were feeling stubborn and knew you wanted to see them sooner than later. 

___

The room is lit only by the movie playing in the background, casting shifting light over the faces of the two young men who perhaps had never been paying attention to it in the first place. Suguru sits against the headboard near obsessively checking his phone to see if maybe you’d text once Yaga finally left you alone. Crystal blue eyes peer up at him from where Satoru rest’s his head on his dark haired companion’s shoulder. 

“They may have actually wore themself back out and went to sleep, Suguru.” It was a bit strange seeing Suguru be the fidgety and impatient one out of the two of them. Perhaps Satoru was less eager to see you simply because of how panicked you’d gotten when you saw him. It made guilt twist up in his chest and he knew he’d have to answer a lot of questions if you were calm enough to ask. 

“I should just go back down there… “

“Suguru-”

“They were such a mangled mess when I found them. I just need to see them be whole and awake.” Suguru’s expression is pinched, pained really. 

Satoru is quiet for a moment, he knows all too well the condition you’d been in. Broken as easily as if you were a porcelain ball jointed doll. Then he blinks and sits up from Suguru’s shoulder and looks to the door of the room. “I don’t think you’ll need to go to them.” 

And with that there’s a soft knock at the door. Suguru nearly flings himself off the bed and almost trips in his haste to get to the door. When he opens it he sees you standing there, looking a bit startled, probably by how quickly he’d gotten to and flung open the door. His eye’s scan over you taking in the small beads of sweat on your forehead and your arm wrapped about your middle. You’re still clearly in some pain but came over here by yourself instead of calling one of them. His relief at seeing you is mixed with a bit of frustration. 

“___, what’re you doing walking around? You should have just texted me or Satoru-”

“I was going to but my phone died…” You glance away sheepishly and lean against the doorframe for support. “Still wanted to see you though, didn’t want to be alone all night.” You don’t meet his eyes as you speak and are caught unaware as he scoops you up. “Suguru?!” You squeak his name in surprise. 

He turns with you in his arms and pushes the door closed behind him with his foot before carrying you toward his bed. He’s about to tell Satoru to scoot over but he does it without being told and you’re gently placed in the middle of the bed. He follows moments after and you find yourself suddenly propped up against the pillows snug between the two of them, your admittedly still sluggish mind struggling to process the sudden closeness and you can feel some heat rising in your face. You’re very much aware that you've become the literal center of attention for the two of them. It doesn’t make you panic though like it did the last time you found yourself in a similar position in this room, and there’s no teasing in any of their actions as they somehow crowd further into your space. Though it still leaves you at a loss for words when Suguru slides down a bit so he can tuck his face into your neck and Satoru wraps an arm around your shoulders, his fingers resting on Suguru’s neck. You’ve been enveloped by the two of them, pulled into a precious and private place. 

It’s oddly quiet for the three of you, with only the sounds of your breathing, the low murmur of the tv and the beginnings of rain tapping at the window. You can really feel them though. Warm and alive. Suguru’s breath fanning over your neck, the sound of Satoru’s heart beating next to your ear. You swallow thickly. All three of you were really alive. You hadn’t lost them. You’re so lost in your thoughts that it surprises you when Satoru brushes a thumb over your cheek, wiping away a tear you hadn’t realized had escaped. You’d thought you’d already wrung yourself dry honestly. 

“Hey-” he begins, concern filling his uncovered eyes.

You shake your head. “No it’s,” you take a shaky breath and Suguru pulls back from your neck slightly so he can examine your face. “It’s a.. It’s a good cry. “ You reach up and rub roughly at your face. “You’re both really here.. I’d been so sure that you were both dead when that-” Another shaky breath and you cut yourself off. You don’t want to think about that bastard. Not right now. “I’m just so relieved you’re both still alive,” you breathe out, seeming to regain your composer.

The two of them share a look and without saying anything seem to agree on something, Suguru nodded to Satoru. “I was aware of everything, you know?”

You look at him wide eyed. “But how? I mean I’m still not even sure how you’re alive. You weren’t breathing when I got to you.” 

“Yeah it’s a lil hard to do that when one of your lungs get’s cut in half,” he tries for humor but notices how you blanche. Quieter he says, “Sorry.”  with the arm that’s not wrapped around your shoulders he reaches for one of your hands, when you don’t pull away he continues. “On the brink of death It finally clicked how to use reverse cursed technique. It was slow at first. Just enough to keep me from death. Then you showed up. It was comforting and I wanted to tell you I was still alive, to do anything in that moment to let you know.” 

The idea that he’d been alive and aware of you while you held him, his blood soaking into your clothes was making your mind reel. You open and close your mouth and when nothing comes out he speaks again. 

“My awareness wasn’t perfect. But I still knew what was going on.” Some anger creeps into his expression. “When he showed up and you drew your weapon I was screaming inside. Wondering what the hell you were doing. Fuck if Suguru and I couldn’t beat him why would you fight him? He was going to ignore you and leave.” His voice raises slightly and you flinch. 

“He’s not the only one wondering that you know. At first I thought maybe he’d decided to have a go at you just because he could and tried to rationalize that normally you’re smarter than that until Satoru told me what happened.” Suguru’s words stung but you knew neither of them were wrong. 

You stare down to where your hand is being held by Satoru and your other clutches your pant leg. “I know it was stupid,” you admit quietly. “The truth is I wasn’t really thinking at that point. With how the whole mission had gone sideways and I was trying to wrap my head around one of you being dead already and when that monster spoke to me I lost it. In my mind that meant both of you were dead.” You bring your free hand up and push your hair back from your face, tugging at it a little. 

“You almost died.” Suguru’s voice is quiet. “Shoko said If you’d gone much longer without healing you would have bled out internally.”  You wince, more at the underlying pain in Suguru’s voice than anything. 

Satoru looks away from you for the first time since this conversation began and looks at the rain streaked window. He was glad that Suguru at least hadn’t gotten a front seat to your beating like he had. The memory of the  sounds of your limbs breaking and your ear shattering scream make bile rise in his throat.  And while he really wished you hadn’t further provoked the man he’s not sure that bastard would have left you with just your arms wrecked even if you hadn’t spit in his face. Normally he would get a kick out of you getting feisty like that but in this situation it in all likelihood got you a good deal more hurt. The injuries to your arms wouldn’t have been lethal but the crushing blow to your stomach had been like you’d been hit by a truck but the impact had been focused entirely into the diameter of that man’s fist. He had no doubt you’d reinforced yourself with cursed energy otherwise there’s no way Suguru would have gotten to you in time and you might have actually had a hole through your stomach instead of your organs getting battered.

When you remain quiet, thinking over their words Suguru speaks again, drawing Satoru’s gaze back. “How do you think we would have felt if you’d died and we both survived? After we decided to bring you with us? Your death would have been on us.” He sits up so he can look at you more directly. 

You’d already admitted you hadn’t been thinking in the moment but that question really struck you. You hadn’t thought either of them were alive but he’s right, you’d been wrong in your assumption and had nearly died for it. Almost left them behind like you thought you had been.  

“You went into a frenzy because you thought we’d died right? Because you thought you lost us both and that feeling overwhelmed you?” Satoru questions you and glances away when you look toward him. “Neither of us wants to lose you either. So just…” He roughly runs a hand through his hair, making it spike out wildly. The anger that had pinched his expression fades and turns into something softer, his cheeks tingeing just a bit pink in the low light of the TV’s glow. “Keep yourself safe even if you don’t want to do it for yourself, do it for us. Even if you think one or both of us has died you need to keep living. Because what's the point if you’re not alive and happy?” 

Suguru chuckles and Satoru gives him a somewhat annoyed look, “What?”

“Nothing. You just put that very well. Almost sounds like you were making a confession for the both of us.” A smug sort of smile etches its way onto Suguru’s tired face, his first smile since what happened in the depths of Jujutsu tech. 

You’re glancing back and forth between the two of them with large eyes, gears turning in your head overriding some of the guilt that had been building. A confession..? The puzzle pieces begin to fall into place for you.  All the time spent training with you, the movie night, taking you on that mission even though they knew Yaga would be pissed at them, all the moments you’d shared with them leading up to going back to the school, your position now snug between the two of them-  You let go of Satoru’s hand and dip your head, covering your face with your hands. Okay maybe you’re a little stupid.

And that's it for part 5! I really hope you guys like it. And yes we're finally hitting the relationship part of things! If you find any errors please ignore them, I've gone over this so many times already to catch everything that I nearly went cross eyed.

@strawberrystepmom @icy-spicy @nanamikentoseyebags @gojoest @porridgesblog

Stop memorizing my attack patterns. That's fucked up. Who let you do that.

There’s a lot going on in that little critter’s head right now.

the sun literally sets and casts a golden hue over everything every single day and we fucked it all up and invented paying rent

It really was mystic messenger that ruined my life. You are really going to give me a scenario in which a super mega rich 26 y/o with his entire life together falls in love with me without seeing what I look like then proposes to me within like 10ish days of meeting me via text OH AND ALSO HES SO HOT?!?!?!? I have been set up to fail.

The boys from Mystic Messenger would never treat me like this.

a collection of some of my favorite mystic messenger chat bubbles

i love the fact that Weird Barbie is weird.

And I mean this in the sense that, they show the impact the real world has had on this toy, this inanimate object that those playing with viewed as devoid of emotion, incomprehensibly inhuman.

But the alterations, the pain she’s endured has stuck with her, become a part of her. People label her by her struggles, by what she’s been through. Externally, she is different, and it doesn’t matter how she feels internally because she will forever be labeled by her struggles.

She’s embraced it and she’s accepted this piece of herself as a whole, even helping those who perceive themselves as “weird” or “malfunctioning”. She knows how it feels to be out of place, to be thought of in this negative light because you don’t adhere to how Barbie is meant to be — perfect.

She has struggled and her struggles make her wonderful, make her the person she is, that is her real beauty

Yet in the end, Weird Barbie is as much a Barbie as anyone else, as much an embodiment of perfect as one can hope to achieve.

Barbie is Barbie, and no matter her struggles, she is perfect as she is, because perfection is a state of mind. Perfection is what you make it. It is flaws, it is pain and tears. But it also love, it is light and it the happiness you feel knowing you are with flaw — but flaw is what makes you unapologetically yourself, it is what makes you Barbie.

Thank you Greta.

this fucks

A Misunderstanding III

Pt. 1 Pt. 2

Father Miguel O’Hara x Mother Spider-Woman

Summary: Your relieved that Miguel wants to be Mateo’s father, but after all the drama and heartbreak could your tender heart love what once was?

Sorry for the late update! I haven’t been sleeping well the past few nights and I needed a break from writing. But I made sure to make this chapter a long one!!

There is an 18+ scene at the very end, so if you are uncomfortable skip passed it.

I apologize for any grammatical mistakes I missed.

Hope you enjoy!💕💕💕

Wc: 5.1k

____________________________________________

You awoke to the smell of coffee and French toast as you slowly exited from bed. Checking the clock, you look to see the time. You only had 30 minutes to get Mateo to school. Getting clothes on, you rush out your door and see your awake and dressed son sitting at the counter, eating a slice of French toast with syrup and strawberries.

Miguel stood at the stove as he made bacon. Walking into the kitchen, you stand by Miguel, who turns to you, handing you a plate of French toast, bacon, and strawberries. You look up at him with a shy smile before taking the plate.

“Thank you for breakfast. And getting Mateo up and ready.”

“Of course, cariño.” He smiled down at you before going back to the stove. You sit next to Mateo as you kiss him on the head. You notice his face is covered in syrup, so you quickly grab a wet napkin to clean his face and hands up.

You glance at Miguel as you watch his back muscles flex when he moves. You quickly move your gaze from him as he turns off the stove. He places his plate on the counter across from you. Your eyes briefly meet before you look away again, cheeks turning pink as you see him smirk.

Guilt seeps into your stomach as you see him try to remove a crick in his neck. You could have let him stay in bed, but you knew last night would have escalated quickly if you hadn’t sent him to the couch.

“Mamma, why isn’t Papa sleeping in your room?” Mateo’s sudden question made you almost choke on your coffee.

“That’s a good question, papito. Any response, mama?” The grin on Miguel’s face widened as he loved the look on your face when he teased you.

“Why do you ask that, sweetie?” You turn to ask your son as he fiddles with his strawberries with his plastic fork.

“But aren’t mommy and daddy supposed to sleep together? Is Papa not going to stay with us?” Mateo pouted as he looked up at you, his eyes glossed. Your eyes met Miguel’s as you both shared a worried look.

“Of course, I’m staying. Don’t worry about me leaving.” Miguel says as he walks over to lift up Mateo in his arms. His words surprised you at first. But deep down, you were relieved that he wanted to stay. Unless he was only saying that to ease Mateo. Your doubts began to cloud your mind.

“Don’t be sad. You have nothing to worry about, ok, sweetie?” You stand up from your seat and walk over to Miguel and Mateo. You rubbed Mateo’s back to calm him down.

“Does that mean Papa will sleep in the bed now?” You internally groan at the constant questions Mateo is asking. Why was your five-year-old so nosy?

“Yes. He’ll sleep in the bed.” You look up at Miguel as he looks down at you seriously. As if his eyes were hoping your words were true.

“Yay!” Mateo cheered as you chuckled from his cheekiness as you gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Now, let’s get you to school.” You say as you grab his backpack, as the three of you head out the door.

Arriving at the front of the doors, Miguel stopped. You turned back to him with a confused glance.

“Aren’t you coming in?” A smile graces your lips. Miguel nods as he follows you into the building. The three of you walk to Mateo’s classroom. You noticed a few moms stare at Miguel, which made your eyes roll.

“Hi, Ms.L/n. Hi Mateo. Are you excited for another day?” Ms. Williams looked at you before glancing at Mateo. Her eyes widen slightly when she notices Miguel still holding Mateo.

“Nice to meet you..?”

“Miguel O’Hara. Mateo’s father.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. O’Hara. I’m Mateo’s teacher Ms. Williams.”

“Alright, papito. It’s time to go to your seat.” Miguel was about to set Mateo on the ground but paused when Mateo clung to his neck tighter.

“What’s going on, bud?” Asked Miguel. You turned to look at the two. Your heart melted at the sight. It was only yesterday that Miguel met Mateo. Still, their relationship was growing so fast, as if Miguel was there the day Mateo was born. Guilt plagued your mind at the reminder that you took the chance away for Miguel to see his son born. To hear his first words, his first steps.

“Will you be there to pick me up with momma?”

“I’ll be here the second the bell rings.” Miguel’s response made Mateo smile as he allowed his father to set him down. Mateo hugged you before going to join his classmates at his assigned table.

Before the two of you left, you made eye contact with a woman who smiled your way as she walked up to you.

“Hi, y/n; I didn’t know you were married.” The woman who walked up to you was a very active parent in Mateo’s class. She’s been spamming your email for a month despite only being day two.

“Hi, Emily. Um, I’m not. This is Mateo’s father.” You smiled at how annoying this woman was. Her eyes went to Miguel as she inconspicuously checked him out, which made you internally scoff.

“I see. I saw you signed Mateo up for soccer. I made a schedule for which parents bring snacks. Will you be able to bring snacks for the team tomorrow?”

“It’s a little last minute to ask, don’t you think?”

“I sent out the schedule last week. You didn’t see it?”

“It must have gotten lost in the other emails you send daily. I’ll make sure to look at it. I’ll bring snacks. See you tomorrow.”

“Ok then. Hope to see you there too.” She brushed her hand against Miguel’s arm. He politely moved from her touch and towards you, which made you grin when Emily looked offended by Miguel’s disinterest.

As the two of you returned to the apartment, you sat on the couch. Those types of moms were so exhausting, to think you thought they only existed in your mommy and me group. Miguel sat down next to you as he rested his arm behind you on the sofa. You couldn’t help yourself from leaning on him. Miguel took the chance to move his arm from the couch and wrap it around your shoulders, bringing you closer to him.

“Un poco celoso, cariño?” Miguel whispered in your ear.

“I’m not jealous!” You turn to face him as you lightly hit his chest, a pout apparent on your lips. Miguel wrapped his arm around your waist to keep you close to him as he gently rubbed your chin with his thumb.

“No need to worry because I’m all yours.” Your eyes connect with his, your face now centimeters apart from his. Your lips gently brush against his, but you pull away, blushing slightly.

“We probably should get to hq.”

“I guess we should.” Miguel lightly sighs. He knows he shouldn’t push you. He knows he needs to be patient to get you back. But your scent alone makes it hard for him not to bend you over the couch and take you from behind.

You walked to your bedroom and opened your top drawer to pull out your suit. After putting it on, you look in the mirror, surprised that you looked just the same 5 years ago. Walking back into the living room, you see Miguel already had his suit on except for his mask as he pressed buttons on his watch to open a portal. He looked back at you with a smirk as he scanned your body.

“Are you ready?” He asked.

“Actually, do you have a day pass?” You ask shyly as you bite your lip slightly embarrassed to not have your watch.

“What happened to your watch?” He said as he handed you a day pass.

“I left it back at HQ. I didn’t think I would ever go back.” Your gaze shifts from his remembering the last time you were at HQ.

“I’ll get you another one. Let’s get going. I can already feel the headache coming from seeing those annoying spiders.” He said as he walked through the portal. A chuckle escaped your throat before following right behind him.

Within seconds you were back at HQ in Miguel’s office. Seeing your surroundings made you freeze in place. The last time you were here was when you ended things with Miguel. A hand was placed on your lower back as you looked up to see a concerned Miguel.

“Last memories of this place weren’t enjoyable.” Miguel caressed your cheek as he guided you to look at him again with a small smile on his face.

“Then just remember the good memories made here.” His comment made your guilty thoughts wash away and replace them with happy ones as you exited his office together.

You were speechless when you walked into the main area. So many more spiders have joined in the last five years. You never would have thought there were so many different variations. Walking through, you saw not only people but animals and even a Lego Spider-Man??? You realized you weren’t the only surprised spider, as anyone who walked by you and Miguel were shocked. Either people who recognized you or newer members who were surprised to see Miguel so close to someone.

“Wow, this place has gotten a lot bigger. It’s amazing.”

“As I began to recruit more, I decided to update and expand,” Miguel said as he led you to the new training center. The training center was spectacular, holding all the state-of-the-line technology.

“We should train here together! I will need the extra help since I’ve been out of the game for so long.” You look at Miguel as you send him a beaming smile. The excitement on your face melted his heart as he gazed at you lovingly.

“Are you thinking of joining spider society again?” Miguel asked you as you noticed his eyes crave you to say yes.

“I-I want to get back to being spider-woman. But in my universe. During all my time as Spiderwoman, my New York has never had major villains. It’s been pretty safe. Just even safer after I started protecting it. Even after I stopped being Spiderwoman, crime rates haven’t risen much in the past five years. I don’t know if Mateo’s parents should be risking their lives on missions.” Miguel was slightly disappointed that you didn’t say yes. But he understood your concerns about Mateo.

You noticed a familiar spider ahead, watching a younger spider train as she rubbed her pregnant belly. As you walked closer, the woman turned around and smiled when she saw you and Miguel.

“Jess, it’s been too long.” You hugged her.

“I’ve missed you, girl. This place hasn’t been the same since you left.”

“And omg, Miguel told me you were expecting! Congratulations! Please let me know if you need anything. Though being pregnant can be hellish most days, I remember the little good things from it.”

“Aww, thanks. But wait, you’ve been pregnant before?” Jess’ face turned surprised as she glanced back and forth between you and Miguel.

“Yeah. I was pregnant when I left Spider Society. But I have an adorable 5-year-old son named Mateo.” You showed Jess the screensaver on your phone, which was of Mateo playing in a park.

“Aww, he’s adorable. He’s the spitting image of both his parents.” Jess smiled at the photo before handing you back your phone.

You see a swinging spider in a white and pink suit practicing. The way she moved across the obstacles reminded you of yourself. Until now, you didn’t realize how much you missed being a spider woman. The white spider lowered herself to the ground before the three of you as she lowered her hood. She was just a kid. Maybe these were one of the annoying teenage spiders that irked Miguel so much.

“How was that, Jess?” Said the girl, breathless but excited.

“Your skills are greatly improving, Gwen.” Said Jess as she patted Gwen on the back. The young girl’s attention went to Miguel before landing on you.

“Hi, my name is Gwen Stacy.” She waved hello to you.

“Y/n l/n. It’s nice to meet you, Gwen. For your age, you’re a very talented spider woman.” Gwen thanked you, her cheeks a faint pink as she brushed some of her hair behind her ear.

“Did Miguel recruit you! We should train together! I would love more advice.” Gwen asked you.

“I’m an old member who is just visiting. But I would love to train again. Especially with new members. When I train with this one, he always goes easy.” You gesture towards Miguel, who just rolls his eyes, smiling at your comment.

“I do it so you don’t get hurt, Hermosa.” Miguel pouts at you.

“I’m only teasing.” Like old times, you get up on your toes and kiss him on the cheek. Everyone was shocked, including you. Miguel smiled at you as he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer to his side, like old times. Jess smiled at the two love birds. She was relieved to see them back together.

“Sorry.” You mumble quietly to Miguel. Miguel lowered himself to your ear and whispered, “Never apologize for doing that. I wouldn’t mind if you did it more too.” His words dusted your cheeks rosy as you smiled back at him before leaving his arms.

“Didn’t think of you as the romantic type, Boss.” Another young spider with a British accent approached. He gestured his hand out towards you and shook your hand. “The name’s Hobie Brown.”

“Did the mission go smoothly?” Asked Miguel, his face turned unemotional.

“It went perfectly! Not a single error.” Hobie said with slight sarcasm evident in his voice. Which made Miguel sigh in frustration.

“Please tell me that someone else did the reports.”

“Pavitr is currently doing it.”

“Good.”

You internally chuckled at the conversation between Miguel and Hobie. Miguel tried to pretend he didn’t care. But you could see right through the tough act. Suddenly a cute red-headed baby dropped into your arms. She looked up at you with smiles and giggles, which made your heart explode from the cuteness.

“And who is this adorable little girl?” You say in a slight baby voice as you hold the baby in your arms. Miguel swooned at the site of you happily holding Mayday.

“If it isn’t the one and only Miguel Tamer. It’s been too long, y/n. Missed seeing you around here.” Peter B. jumped down from the ceiling as he went to hug you. He was about to take Mayday, but she whined to stay in your arms.

“It’s so nice to see you again, Peter! From your new looks, I think I should call you Spider-Dad instead of Spider-Man.” Your joke made Peter and the rest laugh. Even Miguel lightly chuckled when you briefly glanced at him.

“This is Mayday. My spider hearing told me you have a kid too. Welcome to the dad club O’Hara. I’ll buy you a pair of slippers and a robe.” Peter patted Miguel on the back in congratulations.

“No, thank you. I can still dress decently. You’re just being lazy, Parker.” Mayday hopped into Miguel’s arms and started crawling all over him. He caught her in his arms as she giggled up at him. You smiled at the site as you saw Miguel with a small smile. Mayday grabbed a few of your fingers and held them. Even though you have a five-year-old at home, baby fever clouded your thoughts. You did want Mateo to grow up with at least one sibling, unlike you, who was an only child.

“I still find it funny how you’re the only Spider-Man who isn’t funny. We’re supposed to be funny!” Peter caught Mayday as she jumped into her father’s arms.

“I think Miguel is funny in a different way. It’s cute.” You chuckle when Miguel pouts at your comment. But before you knew it, he grabbed you by the waist and shot his web up to the ceiling before swinging across. You clung to his side as it had been long since you flew across the training room. Returning to his original spot on the ceiling, he went upside down with you. He kissed you on the cheek.

“Think I’m funny now, amor?” You playfully hit his chest as he laughs.

“Haha, you’re such a tease.” You say before he sets the two of you back on the ground.

“Aww, young love.” Said Hobie, which earned him a glare from Miguel.

“Jess, would you be able to manage HQ for a week? I’m going to take time off to spend time with my family. I’ll still monitor from afar.”

“Of course. Spend time with y/n and Mateo. Don’t forget about some alone time too.” Jess winked, which made your cheeks go red as Miguel cleared his throat.

“Well, I’ll see you in a week. Reach out if there is an emergency.” Miguel said. You forgot his arms were still wrapped around you as he began to walk and bring you along. His arm around your waist felt like second nature, as if you haven’t been separated for nearly six years.

You waved goodbye to everyone before walking with Miguel to the large terrace, where many spiders relaxed in the fresh air. Going to the ledge, he turned to you as he gestured to you to take his hand. Understanding what he was about to do, you wrapped your arms around his neck as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you against his side as he jumped off.

Your stomach rising was such a freeing feeling that you had missed. Suddenly shot back up into the sky as Miguel shot his web out. The cold wind blowing against your suit felt amazing as Miguel swung through the skyline.

Finally, building the courage to swing yourself, you shoot out a web alongside Miguel. You had a rocky start, almost slipping before catching yourself again. Your small scare sent Miguel into a slight panic. But he calmed his heart when he saw you almost immediately catch yourself.

It was nice swinging across buildings with him again. It had been so long. Even before the two of you officially began dating. You two would have these peaceful swings when you had free time and knew Miguel needed a break from his workaholic tendencies. As you glided above the streets, you did a trick or two, such as needling through the traffic or hanging by your foot as Miguel sent a deep-hearted chuckle every so often as he gazed at your carefree antics.

Miguel swung closer to you until he could gently grab the web you were hanging from and bring you closer to him, chests grazing each other every time you took a breath. He wrapped his arm around your waist, pushing you against him.

Your heart began to take control of your body. You didn’t ware your mask; you wanted to feel the cool air hitting your rosy cheeks. You gently lifted part of his mask, only revealing up to his nose and showing off his plump lips. Miguel leaned his head down and captured your lips into a sweet kiss. Your lips parted from his as you removed his mask, revealing his honey-brown eyes.

“I’ve missed you so much.” Miguel kissed you one more time.

“I’ve missed you too.”

“Please let me be yours again, mi amor. Let me take you on a date tomorrow night.” You hesitated. Why does it feel so easy? He finds out he’s a father and bonds right away with Mateo, plus he wants you to. Did you really get such good luck? You take a deep breath before you caress his cheek and plant another kiss on his lips as your response. You feel his smile against you, happy you gave him another chance.

Miguel’s watch beeped as Lyla appeared next to him. “It’s time for you to pick up the cute baby boy from school. You two make such adorable babies! You should have another!” Lyla’s forward words made you blush as Miguel lightly glared at Lyla for fooling around and teasing you. He should really update her code. Pressing a few buttons, he opened a portal back into your apartment.

You quickly remove your suits and walk over to Mateo’s school. You walk into the building as you both wait for him to finish and leave his classroom.

“Mama! Papa! Look what I drew!” Mateo came running out of class with other kids, his backpack jiggling behind him. He hugged you before going to hug Miguel as Miguel picked him up in his arms.

“Look at my drawing! I drew you and Papa.” Mateo showed the drawing. Seeing his drawings in the past, you could conjure out the figure of you, Miguel, and Mateo inside a house and all holding hands.

“We are all holding hands because we love each other,” Mateo said as you briefly glanced at Miguel. You looked at him with a loving smile.

“It’s an amazing drawing, papito. We’ll make sure to hang it up in the fridge.” Said Miguel. You walked out of the school and back home to the apartment. As you walked in, Miguel went to the kitchen and helped Mateo put the photo on the fridge next to a few other drawings. You follow behind as you make small healthy snacks for Mateo’s soccer team. You would have just bought something from the store. But you knew some of the very opinionated mothers would throw a fit.

You decided to make miniature empanadas which you knew how to make as they were Miguel’s favorite as he showed you how to make them on one of your cooking dates. You loved those dates with him. Where you went to his or your home and both cooked a dish.

After some time, you took the now-cooked empanadas from the oven. Good thing you made extra because the smell brought Miguel back to the kitchen. He wrapped his arms around your waist and rests his chin on your shoulder.

“Those smell amazing, Hermosa.” He kissed your neck before grabbing one. Somehow he wasn’t affected by how hot they were.

“Be careful. I just took them out of the oven.” He kissed your cheek before biting into it. Maybe his superpowers let his tongue not get burned. You internally chuckled at the silly thought.

“It’s delicious.” Miguel hummed in contentment as he took another bite. After they cooled down enough, you took a bite of one. He was right. They were delicious. You put one aside for Mateo as you pack the rest for tomorrow.

“Let me cook dinner since you made the empanadas,” Miguel said as he began to take stuff out to cook.

“But you made breakfast this morning. Let me cook.” You pouted slightly as he ignored the remark.

“Nonsense, amor. You’ve done so much for me already. You gave me Mateo. Making dinner for my family is the least I can do for you.” He kissed your forehead before he went back to chopping vegetables.

You hugged him from behind as you got on your toes and kissed him on the cheek before you grabbed the plate with Mateo’s empanada. You entered his room as he sat on the floor, playing with his legos.

“Hey bud, I made empanadas for your soccer practice tomorrow.” You sit next to him as you place the plastic plate before him. His eyes widened as he quickly dropped his blocks and picked up the delicious pastry.

“Thank you, mama.” He said as he chomped down on the empanada.

“How was school?” You asked him.

“It was fun! Ms. Williams taught us our ABCs and how to count to 20. And then she read us a book about Spiderwoman before we got to play.” He said in between eating. You smiled as you wiped his cheek where there was food.

“Hey Mama, do you love Papa?” His sudden question made your cheeks pink. The door was opened to his room and right next to the kitchen. You knew Miguel could easily hear with his heightened hearing ability. You knew you were going to get teased by Miguel for this later. Swallowing your pride a little, “I do love him.”

“That’s good because I think Papa loves you too.”

“Why do you say that, sweetie?” You knew Miguel still had feelings for you. But you didn’t think he still loved you, especially after how you left him and hid the fact that he had a son for five years.

“He looks at you with a big smile when you’re not looking, and his eyes almost look like hearts.” You knew your son might have exaggerated slightly with the heart eyes. But you knew the rest was true. Little kids really were key observers. Especially your son. He probably got that from his father, who questioned everything like the scientist he was.

Your heartbeat raced as Miguel walked in with a grin on his face. Oh, he definitely heard your conversation.

“Dinner’s almost ready.” Miguel walked in and sat down. His large frame took up some of the room as the two of you began to play with the legos with Mateo as you let your son dictate the game he came up with.

After eating dinner as a family at the dining table, you all went to the living room to watch a family-friendly movie. Mateo lay down on the rug as he drew with his crayons.

You felt a little cold as you quickly went to grab a sweater for you and Mateo. He whined at first, not wanting to put it on. But finally decided to listen as he let you put it on him. You had also grabbed an old sweatshirt that was Miguel’s that you still had and handed it to him.

“If you’re cold.” You say as you sit back on the sofa next to him.

“Gracias.” He said, putting it on. After a few minutes passed by, you still felt cold. Miguel wrapped his arm around your waist as if he knew, pulling you closer to him. Your knees touched his as you rested your head on his shoulder.

You felt lips press to your forehead, which woke you up from your slumber. Sometime during the movie, you fell asleep on his shoulder.

“What time is it?” You yawn.

“Eleven. I put Mateo to bed an hour ago.” Miguel turned off the tv.

“I’m sorry that you waited.”

“Nonsense cariño. Plus, you were so peaceful when you slept. Why would I disturb such a gorgeous site?” You chuckled at his flirty response before a small gasp came from you as he picked you up bridal style and began to carry you to the bedroom.

“Miguel. I can walk myself to the bedroom.” You said. His response was only a kiss on your cheek as he walked into the bedroom and placed you on the bed.

“Miguel?” You said, cheeks turning a dark red as he hovered over you on the bed. He kissed your lips before trailing down from your chin, neck, to your collarbone between your breasts through your shirt.

“I’ve missed you so much, mi corazón. I don’t think I can last another night without touching you.” He lifted your shirt above your gorgeous mounds, his words, as he kissed the tops of each breast. A growl escapes his lips at the bra trapping your breasts. His pointer finger claw extended as he brought it to the middle of your bra, tearing it in half and breaking your breasts free.

“That was a good bra.” You moaned out as Miguel took your right nipple into his mouth and used his other hand to massage your left.

“I’ll take you to go buy a new one.” He mumbled before he continued to pleasure your breasts. His mouth moved to your other nipple to make sure both got attention as his hand snaked down below your pj shorts as he began to stroke your clit.

“Such a naughty girl. Not wearing any panties. Were you wanting me to fuck you tonight, mi amor?”

A moan escaped your lips before you covered your mouth with your hands as Mateo was down the hall. Miguel removed your hand and kissed your wrist.

“Miguel, we have to keep it down.” You managed to say in between moans as he inserted two fingers inside your wet folds.

“Well then, we’ll have to keep it quiet. I’ll have to hear your sweet moans another time.” He quickened his pace with his fingers inside you. A soft groan left your lips as he stopped giving attention to your nipples. But soon replaced with kissing and sucking on your neck as his fangs graze against your skin, sending pleasure through your body. You clench around his fingers as his continued thrusts created a knot in your stomach.

“Soak my fingers so that I can taste you.” He whispered in your ear as he quickened his pace, curling them inside you. You couldn’t hold down a moan as you came from your climax. You whined at the feeling of being empty as he put the fingers in his mouth, sucking them clean.

“Don’t worry, mi amor. You’ll be filled again with my cock. He removed your shorts and tossed them on the floor before taking off his sweatpants. His erect cock broke free from its prison, aching to be inside you as you saw precum leaking from the tip.

The tip of his cock grazed your soaking folds as he gently eased the tip into you. A moan left you as he continued to push himself in. A groan escaped his lips as he felt you clench around him despite you being so tight.

“It’s been so long since I’ve been inside your pretty pussy. You’re not going to sleep tonight, Hermosa.” He removes himself except for the tip before-

Your body jolts awake in a slightly sweaty state. You shut your eyes tight as you hold back a moan. Your core was on fire, begging for attention and release.

You mentally swear.

It was another fucking sex dream.

You glance at the large bare chest resting against the headboard. Miguel sat up as he looked at an orange screen in front of him that projected from his watch. Your thighs squeezed against each other as the sunlight perfectly accentuated his muscles. It didn’t help that he was wearing his glasses.

“Buenos días cariño.” His gaze shifted from the screen to you as he turned slightly to face you.

“Good morning.” You managed to get out. He cupped your cheek and gently caressed you with his thumb. Your eyes widen as you see lust cloud his brown eyes as a smirk appears on his lips.

“Did you have a nice dream?”

____________________________________________

You guessed it. There will be another chapter.🥰

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