#and even on the days where i don't bleed much

[sultrybaby]

Nothing Compares To Being In Love With You (S.G)

(pics are not mine. credit to rightful owners. divider also from pinterest)

summary🦢 In which a cluster of old letters stand as the only testament of gojo's love for you, from birth to (quite literally) death.

genre 🦢 romance, angst, some fluff

pairing (s) 🦢 gojo x reader | reader x naoya zenin

warnings 🦢 reader/main character death, MAJOR ANGST obviously, not exactly forbidden love but more unfortunate circumstances, domestic abuse, mentions of bleeding and punching (no actual description of the abuse this is unrelated bleeding and punching), excessive use of the word sin in one of the monologues, mentions of glass, naoya zenin sucks, letters are from gojo's pov which might be hard to follow I am not sure. Gojo is down bad.

DO NOT ROMANTICIZE ABUSE. THIS FIC (AND ME) DOES NOT CONDONE ROMANTICIZATION OF ABUSE AND IF U ARE LOOKING FOR FICS THAT DO (WHICH IS SICK) THIS IS NOT THE FIC FOR U AND ALSO PLS BLOCK ME CUZ EW.

a/n: this was supposed to be an enhypen fanfic but then I changed my mind. I'm honestly just shocked I actually finished this. Hopefully this idea has manifested to be as good as it seemed in my head and isn't confusing to follow. ENJOY BESTIESSSSS.

🦢🦢🦢🦢🦢🦢🦢

"So apparently, this house belonged to a young bachelor once," explained Mary to her all-too-curious daughter eveline, who sat wide-eyed like a little lamb on the floor of the new house the family had just moved into.

'Really?"

"Yes, baby," Mary chuckled, running her fingers through eveline's (or evie, as they lovingly call her) hair to brush the strands away from her face.

"Where is he now?"

"Oh I don't know sweetheart," Mary sighed, lightly amused at the disappointment on evie's face.

"But maybe there are some clues around the house! If you ever get the time,  you should explore. Who knows, you might find something…"

Evie's eyes twinkled in excitement at the prospect of having an adventure in this foreign pile of bricks that she now had to learn to call home. Perhaps this will create a sense of oneship with the house.

Determined to uncover the secrets of the mysterious young bachelor, little evie started on her mission to unearth every corner of the building. After toppling boxes, crawling through crevices, and occasionally bumping her head on random walls, evie finally uncovered a rather absurd looking block.

And that is the story of how Mary was gifted this curious looking box by her exhausted daughter, waddling excitedly to show her the discovery.

The box had an old-fashioned grace to it. It was clearly disintegrating; cheap, fading, yellowed white  paint hung off the corners, all dried up, waiting to be chipped off. It seemed as if there was some kind of locking mechanism in the front of the box which has long been broken. All it took was a simple motion for the mouth of the box to open wide, revealing a neatly stacked set of what one could assume were letters.

The first letter was different to the others. While the rest were prettily folded, this one had a texture much more rough- as if it had been crushed and then straightened again. And on it, in extremely feathery ink, was written,

Dear ____,

You are the sun and the stars and the rose and the beautiful sky. You are made of the serenity of heaven and the tempting evil of hell. You are everything created to be beautiful, and you also make anything beautiful by association. Every day and every night, in light, in darkness, in life, and even now in death, you make me realize why Orpheus would go to the deadly underworld just to get Eurydice back. I understand his pain and longing.

I know we parted ways hurtfully and there is no action I regret more. And in my attempt to tell myself I hated you, I failed in my life's purpose- to truly let you know how much I loved you.

This is a memoir of the love I lost, a love that was but a bubble in air- shining briefly with all the most beautiful colours, then popping abruptly. And this is just an attempt at preserving some of that wonder and beauty so that when my heart aches a bit too much, I can cry to the essence of your soul (which is funny, because you are too much, too great, to be put into words).

Lovingly,

Yours yesterday, today, and forevermore,

Satoru Gojo.

A love story- a tragic one, was etched in the letters following. In that little white box was the history of Gojo Satoru's love for this mysterious woman to whom he had devoted his heart entirely.

And so Mary started reading…

Dear ____

Today I decided that I would start attempting to put into words my love for you. In these scraps of paper lie not the true extent of my love- that would be impossible to boil down to mere letters- but just enough for my heart to no longer feel as if it is at the brink of explosion from the pain of carrying the weight of my love for you.

The first time I saw you was when I was rushing to work. What started off as a normal day turned into an irreplaceable, unforgettable memory when I heard an angelic voice bantering with a baker.

"Jesus Antonio a damned second grader could bake better bread in their sleep- it’s not worth more than a dollar a loaf. So I ain't paying any more than that"

I felt compelled by fate to turn around and figure out who was truly the source of this wildly amusing diatribe.

Saying that my eyes were unprepared to capture the beauty I was about to witness would be an understatement. I found myself unable to move, nailed to the ground as I took in the sheer magnificence of your existence. And then I blinked. And you were gone.

I remember shaking my head wildly to see where the angel had disappeared off to, and my heart sighed in relief as I saw your unmistakable figure walk with a triumphant smirk and a loaf of bread that you surely had not paid more than a dollar for.

Today marks the second year since we've known each other. Every day since I have carried the burden of my love with utmost pleasure, because loving you is the greatest experience of my life. Nothing compares to being in love with you. But every so often when I stare at you, hoping the longing in my heart doesn't show in my eyes, I wish you were mine.

Yours forevermore,

Gojo.

Dear ___

The first time we ever talked was in the same bakery I first saw you in, although I will admit it is not as much of a coincidence as it may seem. For every day since I saw you, I wandered around the bakery, hoping to catch a glimpse of your hair again.

First I would wander around the area, walking up and down the road multiple times.

Then I started to stick to the stores right next to the bakery. I bought so many snow globes that I really didn't need, not to mention all those picture frames…

Finally, picking up the courage to meet you, I walked into the bakery. I waited around a bit, but eventually it became clear that you were not making an appearance. Dejected, I decided to get something anyway. I had come to the bakery after all.

"Excuse me, how much for kikufuku" I'd asked

"That's be $3 good sir"

It was as I pulled the notes from my wallet that I heard a familiar voice shrieking,

"ANTONIO HOW DARE YOU RIP OFF THIS GOOD MAN?"

To this day it might be my favourite statement of all time.

I turned around to meet your eyes. All was a blur and before I knew it I had a loaf of bread in my hand along with two of the three dollars I was about to hand in.

"..hello?"

I blinked myself back to reality as I saw you waving your palm good naturedly in front of my face.

"Oh h-hi…"

I saw you giggle, probably at the sight of my extremely flustered face. I could feel the heat absorbing all common sense from my brain.

"What's your name, sir?"

"Sato- Gojo…Gojo Satoru…" I breathed out, "and you?"

"____"

I don't think you will ever realize how much that day changed me. And that's okay. I don't want you to feel the anguish I do. I just want you to keep smiling and giggling as you love to. Oh, and chewing off Antonio's ears, of course.

Yours forevermore,

Gojo.

Dear ___

I know we're just friends, but sometimes when you show up at my door with a bag of sweets that you just happened to remember were my favourite, I wonder if there is something deeper; if there is any possibility that you could feel what I feel. And when you hand me the bag, I wonder if I was just imagining the way your touch lingered as our fingers grazed, if I was just imagining your gaze momentarily resting on mine with the same intensity with which I look and think of you.

I know we're just friends, but then why is it that every moment we spend apart from each other feels like my heart is getting ripped out piece by piece? And I know that you would never experience the anguish I do, but then as we spend hours and hours on the telephone talking and laughing about anything and everything, I can't help but wonder if you would do this just for a friend. I again let myself hope that maybe, maybe you felt at least a fraction of the deep devotion I felt for you. But I would never, ever mention it. For the thought of losing what we have now, of losing the ability to experience heaven even in such simple ways, brings me fear that gnaws at my heart and soul. So I hide my worries and my wishes as I keep listening to the sound of your voice through the telephone.

I know we're just friends but do friends have such deep understanding of each other to the point where your wish is nothing but my instinct?

I know we're just friends but are the lives of friends so deeply intertwined in each other that when you lie next to them you can't sense where you end and they begin? When you can't remember if you're in your house or theirs for that is how much time you spend in each other's lives. At what point of spending every day together does my life turn into yours. ____  I don't know how I can go on living without telling you how much you mean to me.

I know we're just friends, but sometimes I feel the line blurring away when we're drunk and unstable and tangled in each other, both of us holding the other for support. And as we messily fall onto the floor, giggling at our pathetic state, I take the moment to cradle you in my arms. In your drunken frenzy you place the softest of kisses on my cheek, only to fall asleep on my shoulder immediately after. When I'm staring at you longingly I can't help but wonder, what are we? What is this love, this gentleness, this warmth? Is this friendship? Is friendship supposed to be so overwhelming? The weight of these questions momentarily crush me, but it all fades away as I stare at your beautiful being, peacefully snoring on my shoulder. And in that moment, all my worries take the backseat, and all I care about is protecting this peace of yours. Whether I do that as a lover or a friend is not a matter to me.

Yours forevermore,

Gojo.

This might be the last time I speak of my love for you, for today you told me that you love me too. So I no longer have to express it in secret, but I can let you know wholeheartedly.

I will never forget the way your head rested against my shoulder, nose-deep in your book. And as I failed to look away from you, I didn’t realize that you had turned to look at me too. I will never forget the way your hand rested on my shoulder as you pulled yourself up to look me in the eye, while I sat there stupidly, mesmerized by the way you moved, so gentle, so light, so ethereal.

Most importantly, I will never forget the way you cupped my face, the subtlest of tears shining in your eyes, and told me, breath hitching at every note,

"Satoru I don't know what I'm feeling. I know I shouldn't be feeling this but I don’t know what it is. I don’t know if you do either. It would kill me to ruin our friendship but this anguish is killing me too and so I'm going to kiss you now and if you don’t like it feel free to punch me"

You leaned forward, and just before you kissed me you stole a glance at my face. And that was when I let go of all the restraints I had placed on my heart.

It was something in the way that our eyes locked;  the brilliant world built on the lies of our hearts crumbling as I cried on your lips in prayer. Maybe this was sin, but the tears I drank were proof that underneath all the chaos hid something real, and it was hidden for no reason but the fact that the world my god created was also made of the same kind of sin as her touch, unprepared to accept the beauty of it all. Damn the preachers, look at her face. Will not the angels sing in her name? If God hated sin so, why did he give her the same beauty as that of his mountains and oceans and the moon? We all are born of sin and sinners at the hour of our death, but I alone had the privilege of being absolved by sin.

I love you, ___. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Yours forevermore,

Satoru.

Dear ___

I know I said I wouldn’t write more of these since I don’t need to hide my love for you any longer but it turns out I'm incapable of stopping my expression of devotion towards you. I love you in ways that I want to etch down. I want to world to know how much I love you. Even after we're dead and gone, I want these words to stay there forever, because that is the nature of my love for you. Permanent. Everlasting.

I love the way your pretty little hands smooth over my tensed shoulders when I've had a long day. Your chest against my back, your hands enveloping me from behind, the way you whisper into my ear has me wishing for nothing more than the moment to last forever. I love you.

I love the way you kiss me. I love the way you cup my cheeks like a child before kissing them. I love the way you kiss my forehead, the way you kiss my nose, the way you kiss my upper lip, my chin, my shoulder, my eyes. Every bit of proof that an angel like you could ever love me has me in awe, in reverence of how simple it is for you to have me wrapped around your little finger. I love you.

I love the soft little touches that are so characteristic of the way you love. I love the way you fix my messy hair. I love the way you pull me closer during cold breezes, claiming it is to keep me warm. And I stand there in adoration of how cute you look as you hide yourself in the crook of my jacket. And I embrace you in my warmth as if I could never let you go. I love the way you absent mindedly play with my fingers. I love the way you link your arms with mine. I love the way you lean in close to wipe something from the corners of my mouth. I love all of it I love you.

I love it when you're so happy that you do a little dance. I love it when you're so nervous about sneaking away from an important meeting with your family members and running to me that you keep spacing out a little, making that really cute zoned out face of yours. I even love your beautiful diamond tears, even if I hate what it is that made you cry, when you're frustrated with all that your mother and father want from you. I love you I love you I love you.

I love you so much, ___. I can only hope that I remind you of it enough.

Love,

Satoru

"Mama that paper is pretty crumplyy- Mama are you ok?"

Dear ___

No.

It can't be.

I keep telling myself it can't be but your words cling to my skin, the cacophony of which psychedelically revolve around my soul.

It can't be It can't be It can't be

“'toru… we can’t do this anymore. It’s over. I'm getting married.”

 “Married? You’re joking, right? Did your parents finally find some guy who fits their impossibly high standards?”

 “This isn’t a joke, toru, They have found someone. He’s a good match. Someone stable, responsible. I’ve… agreed to it.”

“Wait… you agreed to it? So you’re just… going along with it? After everything we’ve been through? After us?”

“Please don’t make this harder than it already is. My family expects me to marry someone who can provide stability, someone they can rely on. You and I… we were just… a dream.”

“A dream? That’s what this was to you? A dream? And you’re just going to… throw it away?”

“Yes I mean… toru, look at you. You live life as if you’re still a kid, as if nothing really matters. You laugh everything off, even the serious things, and that’s— That’s not what I need! I need someone who can give me certainty. Someone who can give me a future.”

“Certainty? Is that all I am to you, just some silly guy who can’t give you a future? Because I would have. I would have done anything to make it work, and you know it.”

“No, Satoru, you wouldn’t have, You’d have tried for a while, but eventually, you’d get restless. That’s who you are—you go wherever you feel like going, with no thought for consequences, no… no sense of commitment. And I can’t live like that.”

“You don’t know that! You’re deciding all this for both of us. You’re… you’re running away, choosing some path that someone else picked out for you. How is that the stability you want? It’s just… it’s just giving up.”

“No, it’s not giving up! You don’t understand. This isn’t just about you or me. It’s about family, tradition… things that are bigger than both of us. You’re acting like a child who thinks love is all that matters. Well, it’s not. Not in my world.”

 “I see. So you’d rather marry a stranger than even give us a chance? Than let me try to be what you need?”

“Gojo… I love you. But love isn’t enough to change everything. I wish it were. But it’s not.”

“Maybe you don’t love me as much as you think, then.”

“Don’t… don’t say that, I’ll never stop loving you, but I need to let you go. And you…You need to let me go, too. It’ll be easier that way.”

“Easier? You’re not making anything easier, trust me. I’ll never forget you. I’ll always wonder what we could’ve been… but you’re right, aren’t you? I’m just too silly, too carefree to matter.”

Naoya Zenin. The heir of one of the biggest families in the nation. Rich, powerful, handsome. Perfect. He was perfect it seemed. And so were you.

But the anger in my heart doesn’t still. Maybe because I don’t want to accept the truth- that I truly was never enough for you.

Because I know that you are not that perfect. Because it was your imperfection that I fell in love with. And the imperfect you casted the imperfect me away because you were imperfect in a way that everyone loved and I was imperfect in a way no one could bear to see. You were imperfect in a way that could be fixed by getting you married (as your wretched family never failed to mention) while I was…unfixable.

Broken.

We were both broken shards, and in our interweaved misery I deluded myself into believing we came from the same piece of glass. When you bled on me I drank your suffering, living through my burning throat just to hold you up. But you were always meant to be great, and I was not. And I told myself that I made you, breathed you into creation. That you were nothing without me. That the time I spent crafting your wings made me something, as if you had not discarded them as soon as you could. Your apathy was cruelty, your fame a testimony to the different seas of being that we are. And as I hung from the broken bridge I built, you flourished.

But in those fluttering moments when our eyes meet, those intense seconds where two frail souls reach out their hands in memory of what once used to be, of what once was the truth, I see that broken woman again. It makes me realize that you were a gorgeous vase dropped on accident, while I was a pair of rose tinted glasses broken in frustration. You were crafted to be beautiful, temporarily set back by fate, while I would forever just be a memory of the lies we tell ourselves.

But a broken vase can never be put back together, and someday, the world would know that your greatness was just a house of cards; fated to be toppled over by the dying breath of the frail strands that tied our hearts together.

Yours,

Satoru.

Dear ___,

I was so sure I understood, so sure that I was the one who’d been wronged. All I saw was you walking away, slipping through my fingers, and it burned—I let it fill me with anger, as if I was the only one hurt by it all. I couldn’t see past my own pain to realize you were scared. You weren’t breaking up with me because you didn’t care, but because you were… trapped.

The Saddest of stories are always of the happiest of people; the ones whose heart lit up at the sight of the world. But the world was too cruel to some of them, and love is never enough to carry one through the ugliness of this world we live in. And soon enough comes a time when looking at a glass of water causes heartache, and every light is so blinding that it physically pains you to get out of bed, and when all that lingers is the feeling of cold numbness inside. By then love is all forgotten, holding no meaning. No amount of care or happiness can fix the damage caused by the seemingly harmless boredom. Boredom then turns to dissatisfaction, and dissatisfaction turns to hopelessness, and through all of this there are those who can put up the façade of a healthy life.

We never see them- or at least see them as they truly are. Sad, Bored, a little dead on the inside. It's not like they seem to be happy or cheerful either- just nothing out of the ordinary. But the ordinary deceives the mind, and we leave out those little moments when their face breaks and the tears slip and the bandaid falls of- not because the wound has healed, but because it has bled too much. And also because it is not the kind of wound that a bandaid can fix. But they ignore this, and keep sticking bandaids (sometimes loosely attaching the same one over) in hopes that it will one day work the way they expect. But this only causes the wound to turn toxic, until it turns numb. And you think this means it has healed, but it is only when it is slightly brushed against, and the unbearable pain jolts throughout, that you realize that its just gotten worse in silence.

I didn’t even think to ask if you were okay. I thought you were just cold, maybe even heartless, telling me you needed someone more stable, someone responsible. But now, I see that you were pleading for something I didn’t understand. You needed help, someone to see through what you couldn’t say. You needed someone who’d ask why you said those things, why you looked so… afraid. And I missed it. I didn’t stop to question why you had this sadness behind your words, this weight pressing on you. I was too focused on being right, on feeling betrayed, to see what was right in front of me.

I convinced myself that you just wanted a different life, something that didn’t involve me, when really, you were… struggling. I should have seen that the way you talked about him, about your 'future,' was hollow. I should have noticed how you’d say the word 'marriage' like it was a sentence, not a choice. And instead of asking you, instead of listening—I let myself believe you were leaving me for someone else, that you’d never loved me the way I loved you. I made it about me, when all you needed was someone who could see what you couldn’t say out loud.

And now, here I am, replaying every word, every conversation, and wondering why I didn’t ask the right questions, why I didn’t push just a little harder to know what was really going on. I was supposed to be the one who loved you. But instead of standing by you, instead of seeing your fear, I just… got angry. I made you feel like you were wrong for leaving me, when in reality, you were just trying to survive. You were terrified, and I was too wrapped up in my own feelings to realize you needed me.

So now I’m left here with nothing but regrets, wishing I had seen the truth, wishing I’d known enough to tell you I’d help, that you weren’t alone. And now… now it’s too late. And I’ll never forgive myself for that

If only you knew that I would have been there for you. When he hurt your body and your heart and mind, I would have been there. If I had known, an angel like you would not have suffered more than a mere second in the house of a tyrant. If I had known, you would be laughing in my arms instead of crying on his floor. If I had known, maybe you would still be here with me.

Naoya Zenin.

That monster. I always hated him, but I thought… I thought it was jealousy. Just me being petty. But now I see him, in my mind—the way he looked at her, the way he… possessed you, like you were some damn object. He never saw you, not the way you really were. No. To him, you were just something he could cage, something to crush under his control.

How could he do it? How could he look you in the eyes and destroy you? How could he even live with himself? You loved life; you loved people, loved him, once—God, that makes it worse. He didn’t deserve a second of your love. He didn’t even deserve to be in the same room as you, and yet he was the one… he was the one who had you, day after day. His hands, that sick, twisted mind—you suffered because of him. And he’ll never pay enough for what he’s done. No punishment, no hell is deep enough for him.

I should have seen it. All those times I got frustrated with you, thinking you were pulling away, that you were lying to me. But you weren't lying, were you? You were hiding it, hiding the pain… because you knew I wouldn’t understand. I’d always get so mad, so impatient, thinking you were just… playing games, trying to hurt me. But you weren't. You were crying for help, and I just walked away, time after time. I thought I was so… righteous, so hurt. I thought I deserved the truth, that I had the right to be angry.

But I didn’t see your pain, did I? I never stopped to look closer, to ask you if you were really okay. I didn’t see how you’d flinch when he’d call, how you’d go silent, like you were somewhere far away. You were in hell, and all I cared about was my own heart. I was supposed to protect you, and instead, I pushed you back into his arms. I let you go back to him, and now… now you're gone."

And there’s nothing I can do to bring you back. Nothing I can do to make up for the times I failed you, for not listening, for not… seeing. It’s too late. I lost you forever. And it’s my fault.

I'm sorry, love.

Yours forevermore,

Satoru.

Dear ___

Today I watched you buried. I couldn’t see your face, as I maintained my distance, not trusting myself to be able to bear to be next to the ones who allowed you to be hurt. Moreover, I refuse to believe that you are gone. You're in my heart, and you always will be.

But as the day descended into night, and the yard was empty for miles, I dared to come close.

And I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

I don't know when the hot tears started falling, mind blank as my knees thumped against the cold hard ground. And suddenly, all the agony clutched at my throat till I couldn't breathe, and I sobbed. I sobbed and bawled till I couldn’t feel my breath anymore. I needed the pain out of me but I didn't know how and in a vain attempt to ease the pain I punched and punched the ground as if it would cause you to come back to life again. As if it was the fault of the earth for taking you away from me. I cried hideously and clawed monstrously at the ground, but nothing changed. I rested my head on the grass in exhaustion, and thumped my head against the ground in anger as the tears kept falling. But even as I choked on the soil, nothing changed. I was still alone except for the company of the solitude taking pity on my pathetic state. I could feel the nothingness embrace me, comforting me, for I was truly alone in the world now, and I could feel it to my core.

And although my heart is numb and even as the bruises on my fingers from punching the floor bleed onto the page, I cannot stop myself from writing. I write and write and write because these letters are the only thing keeping you alive and I'm afraid if I stop then you will truly be gone and that can't be it can't be it can't.

 Because no matter where you are, my heart still beats for you. And despite the pain that follows the realization that yours no longer beats at all, I want to live forever. I want this simple heart of mine to thrum in your honor until the end of time. So that I can keep the feeling of being in love with you. So that I can, just for a moment, remember that I had the honour of being in love with you. Because nothing compares to being in love with you.

Yours yesterday, today, and forevermore,

Satoru.

a/n: hope you enjoyed. ive never written for jjk before and although ive watched the show and am familiar w the manga idk if this is ooc im sry. i have wanted to write for jjk for a while now tho so i am glad i did. i love angst if you couldnt tell btw.

[greencreeker]

.

[byanyan]

tonight's one of those nights where i'm thinking about fledgling verse again....... but this time i'm just laughing at the concept of byan being trapped with eternal babyface

[bloodyarson]

not to derail but i think the reason why american english is so easy to learn and to speak for a lot of people is exactly because correct enunciation doesn't matter one bit really. as long as you make a noise that has the right vowels and kinda similar consonants people will understand what you're saying 90% of the time. and so i think, other than imperialism of course, this is one of the reasons why english is everyone in the world's "common tongue" now. even with a really thick accent english is still understandable, way more than most other majorly spoken languages. i mean, just fucking take a listen to french! or don't actually unless you want your ears to start bleeding.

so yeah in conclusion i think the reason why english is the language everyone learns and communicates in is because of this specific lack of a need to properly pronounce things, making it so much easier than most other languages for non native speakers. :)

americans be like i’m looking at myself in the meer

[a-shade-of-blue]

Hi everyone. Mohammed Khalil (@ahmed0khalil) has asked me to share his story, and I’m writing on his behalf. Mohammed created the donation campaign for his little brother 6-year-old Ahmed, and he aims to raise funds to evacuate his family of 8. You can see in his blog how much he loves and worries for 6-year-old Ahmed. Mohammed is only 19 years old. This is not normal. He should have been in school, not begging for our attention to try and raise enough funds so that they can buy food, water, medicine, and a chance to evacuate to safety.

In Gaza, where the sounds of bombing blend with the cries of children, Mohammed and Ahmed's family experienced days they never imagined they would endure. Mohammed (19) and Ahmed (6) have four other siblings: Fathi, Aya, Anas and Abdullah. Aya (21) is a uni nursing student and Anas (15) is also a school student. Neither of them can study anymore with the current genocide. This war is especially hard on Fathi (23), who is blind and suffering from coronary artery disease, Abdullah (11) who is autistic and does not understand what is happening, and Ahmed (6), a small child who had barely started kindergarten before his education came to a halt.

The destruction that struck the area left them with no place to live. The sounds of explosions fill the horizon, and the homes that once sheltered them have become piles of rubble. They suddenly found themselves outside their home, homeless.

The bombing not only destroyed their home, but also severely injured Mohammed. Mohammed was sitting at the entrance of the school his family was sheltering in when three bombs were dropped in front of him. The bombs destroyed a residential tower in front of Mohammed. Dust filled the air and the resulting rubble and shrapnel fell on Mohammed, injuring him in the leg. Mohammed was so severely wounded that he could not walk, and he had to lie there, hurt and bleeding, for 2 hours before the Palestinian Red Crescent came and carried him to the hospital.

The bombing shattered the glass in the school Mohammed and his family was staying at, but thankfully the children sustained no serious injuries. Soon after, they were asked to evacuate the school immediately as there were news that the IOF were going to bomb the Abbas prison near it. And so even though Mohammed was wounded, he could not rest and wait for his leg to heal, but had to leave again with his family.

Now they are living in a small tent in a refugee camp. Mohammed told me that they had to bathe in polluted water and the place smelled of sewage and corpses. Camp life was difficult not only because of the scarcity of food, the infectious disease, and the polluted water, but also because of the psychological torture they endure. Looking at all the devastation, and how the world seems indifferent to their suffering, Mohammed told me that they, including young innocent 6-year-old Ahmed, had begun to lose hope for a better future.

Internet is unstable and often lacking in the refugee camp. Mohammed is using the precious time when Internet is available to tell me his story. I hope you will not turn away their calls for help. They urgently need donations to provide for shelter, food, and medicine, as well as to evacuate out of Gaza. Donations are coming in really slowly for Mohammed’s campaign, and I beg all of you, please, don't turn a blind eye to his story. 

Mohammed’s campaign has been shared by 90-ghost and I’ve also been talking extensively with him. He is a very nice person and he just really wants to help his family survive. Please, please, help Mohammed evacuate himself, his 5 siblings and his parents! Little 6-year-old Ahmed does not deserve to live in fear of falling bombs every day, and neither does Mohammed and the rest of his family. 

Really low funds! Only €1,185 raised of €50,000 target!!

Please share/reblog and donate to help a family of 8! These are children we are talking about, and my heart breaks for what they have to endure.

Please follow Mohammed and Ahmed on @ahmed0khalil to get updates on their situation!

[shotmrmiller]

getting shot down by ghost without even asking him out or anything because he'd heard from one scottish bird that your type of guy was exactly like him and thinking back on it now, all the qualities you'd listed for your dream man do sound like as if you were describing him. yikes.

you don't take his rejection to heart, even though it does lightly sting but before you get a chance to explain that said scottish bird is an idiot and very mistaken in his assumption, ghost is telling you that it'd never work, you'd only get hurt and that you do take to heart because what does that mean, exactly? does he think you some dewy eyed farm girl looking for love? that you can't have casual sex with someone without eventually wanting for more?

"tha' ain't wha' i said. you'd get hurt, i mean look at ya." what about you? it's not like you'd let any of what happens behind closed doors affect your performance or anything, you and kyle always keep things professional while in the field.

also, is he aware that he doesn't have to have a reason to not want to sleep with you, or anyone else for that matter?

"you're small," he states, as if fact.

small? small where? your irritation dissipates, shoulders bleeding tension as genuine worry begins to set in. his vision might actually be going bad. could it be the black paint he wears under his mask? is it even safe to use on the face let alone near the eyes? did he read the instructions?

but then you realize he's looking at your legs, or specifically, what's between them and things click, and now you're wondering how someone so bloody brilliant could be this fucking stupid.

"while i appreciate your concern, lieutenant," you pointedly snap, "that's not even- i'd be just fine." he's a big guy, for sure. massive, if being honest. his neck alone is easily bigger than both your hands and you've caught him once or twice having to duck his head to enter the debriefing room but him being so endowed that it poses a threat to you is idiotic at best.

he hums, long and low in his throat, as he peers down at you through heavy lidded eyes, and raises his right shoulder in a shrug. "as you like," and that's the one and only warning you got.

simon had given you as much foreplay as needed, had lapped at your pussy until you forgot what day of the week it was, curled and scissored his fingers until his bedsheets were sodden and it still hadn't been enough. he'd only fit about a fourth of it in before he took pity on you and fucked your thighs instead until he got close, pushing his ruddy tip back into your aching cunt because "spillin' outside is a waste," and sent you on your merry way.

you're no quitter though and after some shopping online, your saving grace (dilators) will be here in a week.

(now to find soap and rip the rest of his hair right out his scalp for wagging his tongue.)

[starlingskulls]

also one of the cats i work with really fucked my shit up last shift and i feel very upset about it One because uhmm. rude. but also because ohhh that's deeper than i've ever gone and it didn't hurt that bad .. very interesting information

[heeliopheelia]

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐆���𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓

genre: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff

word count: 4.3k

warnings: cursing, crying, neglect, tiny mention of bleeding

a/n: i think i win the contest of overusing commas with this one 🤍 tbh this fic is just yapping so pls deal with me... it's good to write some proper angst again tho, i missed it :(( hope you guys like it and don't find them too repetetive!!

masterlist

LEE HEESEUNG

It's been two weeks since you got the opportunity to take a proper look at Heeseung. And now as you do, you find it hard to recognize your fiancé who looks like he's about to collapse from exhaustion, to say the least. 

“I never asked you to mother me or worry about me so much. Stop getting into my business so much. I’m not a child, YN.”

It’s like he was blind to how hurt his words and actions were making you feel. It’s so unusual for him, so out of character and unfamiliar to you, that you can’t help but think that maybe it really is your fault for riling him up this much.

“I worry about you because I’m your fiancé and I love you, you jerk!” You scoff at his careless words and take a step back, the aching in your heart only increasing. “I only want to look after you because you clearly don't know how to do it yourself. I mean, look at yourself! You look as if you haven’t slept in a week and I know you haven’t been eating either. How can I not worry about you when all you do is neglect yourself?”

“Dunno, maybe find yourself something to keep you busy enough. You stay at home all day, do as much as nothing, no wonder you’re so damn nosy. I would be too with this much time on my hands.”

He’s so indifferent to everything you say, you try to recall where it all started going so wrong. All you did was ask whether he’s eaten at work or not, and now the two of you are snapping at each other as if you weren’t lovers, and trying not to hurt each other was a long forgotten thought by now. 

“If you’re so unhappy with our relationship – with me, maybe it’s best we take a break,” you say as you feel your throat tighten painfully. 

“Agreed. I never even wanted this marriage in the first place,” he scowls, silencing you, words rolling out of his mouth way quicker than his brain is able to process it. 

He bites his words back quickly when he watches your face dropping along with your shoulders, and fuck, you look as if you’ve given up on him right then and there. 

You walk away then, tears streaming down your face, muttering something about how ungrateful he was being, and all Heeseung could do was stand still as if plastered to the floor, in utter disbelief of his own, untrue, words.

After his cruel statement echoes through his head for the fourth time, he finally snaps out of the self pity and rushes after you to the kitchen where you’re leaned over the counter, head buried in your hands as you cry.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” he apologizes quickly. He walks up from behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his forehead on your shoulder blade. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry for everything I said, sweetheart.”

He turns you around gently and feels his chest tighten at how fucking sad you look. He never wants to see you like this. He never wants to be the cause of this ever again.

And when he looks to the side, his throat closes and dries completely at the sight of your engagement ring laying on the counter right behind you. 

“Are you sure you didn’t mean it?” You ask, wiping the tears away with your hand pointlessly as another stream follows right after. “Things like that don’t come out of nowhere.”

“I didn’t, love, I swear I didn’t. I’m so fucking sorry,” he breathes out, pulling you closer to him by your neck again. 

Never again. Never fucking again. He keeps telling himself in his head as he lifts your hand to his lips and presses a kiss to your knuckles, just where your ring was supposed to be sitting snugly. Then he lowers it and places your palm against his chest, right above his heart, and covers your smaller hand with his.

That was too close to losing you, and himself, for that matter. Because he would never recover if you were gone from his life and all because of him. 

“Then why did you even say it?” You sob pitifully as you feel the warm tears dripping down the tip of your nose.

“I don’t know,” he shushes you gently, trying his best to not break you any further. 

You pull away once you feel calm enough, hands clutching his t-shirt. “It's not too late to call off the wedding, Seung,” you manage out breathily, raising your palm to cup his cheek. “I'd rather not take the step further than have you unhappy.”

“Darling, no.” Heeseung bends down to minimize the distance between the two of you and peppers your face with loving, warm kisses. He just wants to erase those atrocious thoughts out of your mind as quickly as possible. “Please, there's nothing I'd ever want more than to make you my wife. That was stupid of me to say. I'll never be happy if I'm not with you, my love.”

“I just don’t want to force this marriage on you. You need to want it as much as I do, otherwise it’s pointless.”

Heeseung almost chokes on air when he rushes out his answer even before you can properly finish your sentence. “I do want it. Please, you have to believe me.” 

“Really?”

Heeseung smiles at you softly as he wipes your wet cheeks with his thumbs. “Really. Scout’s honour.”

You breathe out, feeling relief, and look up at him with squinted, puffy eyes. “Sometimes I just wanna strangle you to death, Lee Heeseung.”

He chuckles lightly before pressing one last kiss to your cheek. “Aren't you just so adorable? You should add this to your wedding vows.”

“Maybe I’ll add this to your eulogy instead if you pull shit like that again.”

Heeseung clicks his tongue with a grin pulling on his lips. “Touché.”

PARK JAY

The atmosphere in the living room is so heavy that your chest starts to hurt. You’re standing barely two steps away from the man you love the most, yet you’ve never felt more far away from him than in this moment. 

His eyes – cold but still undoubtedly full of love, drill holes in the side of your head as you turn your face away from him to try and gather your thoughts.

Arguments with Jay were rare. You always tried to work things out immediately, keeping your heads cool. But something has broken over the last month and you can’t see each other eye to eye anymore. At the very beginning of your relationship you made a promise to never go to bed angry. To never leave things unresolved. Yet now Jay’s been sleeping on the couch for the past week, and you fail to understand what the fuck has happened to the two of you. 

And you can’t help but think that, maybe, sometimes love is just not enough. 

“You’re not even trying to find the middle ground anymore. All you do is snap at me the second I come home. I’m fucking tired of it! Would it hurt to give it a rest for a day?” 

The tension is almost palpable. You hate how you can’t seem to back away from any argument but only keep hurting him instead. 

“Put effort into our relationship first, then we’ll talk,” you spit out instead, against your better judgment.

“It’s funny coming from you who’s done nothing but put a fucking distance between us!”

“This doesn’t make any sense anymore, Jay. We need some time apart,” you finally speak into the dull silence, eyes casted downwards at the floor as your hand keeps twitching, only to finally grab for your ring finger and slip the silver band off of it. You didn’t think much of your action, hell, you didn’t even process it properly. 

Well, not until you hear the shaky exhale leave Jay’s lips. 

Silently, he presses his lips together and nods his head before turning on his heel and leaving the room. You listen intently to the shuffling, then ringing of the keys and eventually the door being shut. 

A moment of silence turns into minutes of you staring at the ring on your palm with tears burning your eyes mercilessly. 

With your heart falling low to your stomach, you drop down on the couch and tug on your hair slightly, cursing yourself for acting so mindlessly. 

You wallow in self pity in the dead quiet room. The shiny ring feels so heavy and burning in your clenched fist. You take in a deep breath, then quickly slide the band back onto your finger, feeling instantly shielded with it being on its righteous place again.

And just like that, you spend the next three hours on the verge of losing your sanity. With no word from Jay. He’s left your messages unread. He’s left your calls unanswered. 

You don’t know whether he’s okay or hurt or simply gone. All that combined is enough to leave you panicked and terrified, unable to have a second of peace. 

You never meant to take it this far. This – your words and rapid actions, that will forever remain as one of your biggest regrets. You don’t like the idea that you made your other half feel like you’ve taken him for granted. Or for what’s worse, like a person that you can use for unloading your frustration on. 

There’s this throbbing pain in your chest as you realize that maybe he’s not coming back because why would he if you can’t even love him properly?

Your fingers are bleeding from how hard you’ve been picking on your cuticles. 

And then you hear the jingle of keys and soon the front door opens quietly. You know that even after all of this he’s still being careful to not wake you up. It’s killing you how he thinks you’d ever be able to get a wink of sleep without knowing he’s safe. 

You’re quick to drop your phone on the couch and shoot up on your legs, rushing over to the door and throwing yourself on Jay’s neck. 

“I was so worried about you!” You gasp out, clinging onto your fiancé desperately as tears unknowingly make their way down your cheeks. “Please, don’t ever do that again!”

“Sorry, my phone died,” he replies after a second or two, bringing his arm up to wrap around your waist and keep you close to him. 

He’s still upset but he understands where you’re coming from, knowing well that if it was you instead of him he’d probably go insane from worry. 

He can feel your heart hammering against his chest, so he lifts his hand and strokes your hair to help you calm down. But then you start crying, feeling his gentle touch even after everything you said, that was enough to push you over the edge. You clench your trembling hands on his sweater as you burst out with choked sobs, slouching against his warm and comforting body. 

“I’m sorry, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry,” you weep into his chest like a mantra and Jay can quite literally feel his heart cracking at your miserable state. 

“It’s okay,” he whispers, hot air hitting your ear before he presses a soft kiss to its tip. “Don’t cry anymore, honey. We’re okay.”

“I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve you,” you whimper quietly. “Please, don’t leave me.”

“Don’t say that,” he scolds you with a frown. Your whimpers twist his guts even more than your harsh words from before. “It’s not the first nor the last time we’ll have an argument. It’s not worth losing your pretty head over it, okay?” 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat one last time. “I promise I'll never take it off again. I’ll never lash out on you like that ever again too.”

Jay grabs your hand and runs his thumb over the thin silver band, the same one he was picking so carefully for weeks, and a small smile tugs on the corners of his mouth. He hates how shameful you sound. 

He’ll never tell you how the sight of you pulling your ring off your finger made him physically sick to his stomach. He can't have you feeling even worse than you already do. So instead he brings you close to him and rests his forehead on yours. 

“I’m so stupid,” you whisper quietly as you close your eyes, your heavy eyelashes letting go of another few droplets of crystal tears which Jay’s lips soak up instantly. “I don’t know what I’d do if you actually left.”

“You know me better than to think I’d let us break it off over such a petty fight.” And, yes, you do. But your lip wobbles with silent agony at the sole thought of that. “Hey,” he tries again as he presses a loving kiss to your red nose. “I’m not leaving, okay? How could I ever?” 

“I love you.”

With his thumb caressing your burning cheek so tenderly, you feel at peace again.

“I love you too,” he replies without skipping a beat. “No one can handle you as well as I do. And no one sees me for me like you do. We complete each other. We belong together.”

He kisses you silly then, until there’s no more tears left in your body and you’re barely able to breathe anymore. He kisses you until your legs give in and he swoops you up to carry you into your shared bed for the first time in what seems like forever.

He kisses you until it engraves in your mind that there’s no other person for him in this world but you.

SIM JAKE

“Baby, I already apologized.” A groan lingers at the back of his throat but for his own sake he stifles it inside. “I don’t know what else you want me to do.”

You sit on the edge of your shared bed and clench your fingers on the silky duvet. “How about you start showing up to things we both agreed on attending to?”

He runs his hand down his face. “I know. It just slipped my mind, that’s all. You know how busy I’ve been this week.”

“This shouldn’t be my business only, though. I mean, for christ’s sake, it’s our wedding! I would really appreciate it if you participated in something for once!”

Flowers and cake. That’s literally all you’ve asked of him to go and pick with you for the wedding reception. Knowing his tight schedule, you picked the date carefully so that it wouldn’t meddle with his work and you could even go grab some dinner afterwards. But your plans all went out the window when he didn’t even bother showing up or giving you a heads up text, standing you up yet another time when it comes to your wedding preparations.

You’re honestly getting tired of it.

“I’ll be there next time,” he assures you quickly as he nervously taps his fingers on the doorway of your bedroom. 

“You said you wouldn’t do that,” your voice wavers as your shoulders drop with resignation. With the back of your hand, you wipe off the tears that made their way down your cheeks. “You promised to help, Jake. But you left me alone with everything, as usual.”

“It’s not even that big of a deal. This can be rescheduled any time. Baby, stop stressin’ so much.”

“But it is a big deal to me!” You cry out, palm reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose. You breathe out heavily. “I don’t want to do everything by myself! We’re supposed to be in this together! If getting married means that I’m gonna be alone with all the responsibilities that you don’t consider important enough, I’m not even sure I still want it.”

To back up your words, your hand moves half-consciously to your ring finger and you twist the cool piece of jewelry in between your fingers. 

“No, no, no, no.” Jake moves quickly, nearly tripping over himself as he rushes towards you to desperately clasp your hand in his two and stop you from whatever the hell you were about to do. He drops to his knees in front of the bed, right at your feet. “Baby, you promised you’d never take it off.”

You’re at a loss of words as you look into his wide eyes, the seriousness of your actions only catching up to you now. You gasp quietly, eyes watering just like his, quickly relaxing your tensed hand in his and letting him slide the ring back down your finger, just where it belongs.

Silence envelopes the two of you, besides the sound of your sniffles. 

You feel awful. 

Jake feels even worse. 

Leaning forward, you press your face to his shoulder and melt instantly when he brings a hand to caress your hair. 

“I'm sorry,” you whisper, clenching your hand to feel the cool ring against your skin. “I don't know why I did that. I didn't mean to.”

“I know,” he soothes you just as softly. He stands up from the floor and carefully maneuvers the two of you so that you’re placed on his lap as he sits with his back against the headboard. “It's my fault. I'm sorry. I never meant to disregard your feelings like that.”

At the end of the day, both of you would rather set themselves ablaze than watch the other one hurting. 

You nod silently, heart pounding in your chest before you bring your arms up and throw them over his neck.

“I’m sorry I was so impulsive.”

“No. You did nothing wrong.” His soothing voice carries over the room, enveloping you with warmth. “I promise I'll be here whenever you want me to from now on. I don’t want you to feel neglected by me, especially now when you’re this stressed over the wedding. I won’t let you down, again.” 

“I just need a little help, that’s all,” you mumble tiredly into his skin.

“I know.” His warm lips press to your forehead lovingly. “I’m sorry for being an insensitive douche. It won’t happen again. I’ll take some days off next week, hm?”

The tears on your face dry slowly as your hold on him tightens. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Then it’s done. I'll be all yours and you’ll be all mine then,” he hums and noses at your cheek, finally bringing out a small giggle out of you. After all these years, he still melts at the sound. “I won’t let things get this out of hand again, YN. I promise.”

“Okay,” you whisper. Tilting your head up and bringing his down towards you, you join your lips in a kiss that you’ve been longing for for days. His movements are slow and careful as he tries to soak up as much of the moment as possible. 

His kisses slowly put your broken pieces back together. He never knew how much seeing you cry like this would hurt him. And he’ll make damn sure he won’t ever have to experience that again for as long as you're with him.

“If I have a life to spend, it'll only be with you, sweetheart,” he lowers his voice to match yours, cradling your cheek in the palm of his hand. “You're it for me. I'll never give you a chance to doubt that ever again.”

PARK SUNGHOON

“You’re never home! There’s always a hundred things more important to you than spending an hour of your time with me. Your fucking fiance! Are we really about to get married when you’re clearly so tired of me already?”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you finally voice out everything that’s been sitting on your chest for the past month. Things have not been working out well with the two of you, much to your despair. He’s been neglectful, always too busy to help you with anything – even the wedding related things that you should’ve gotten done weeks ago. 

And you know that he’s swamped with work and it's not his fault. You understand everything. But to ask him to spare you an hour or two of his day shouldn’t be too much. It shouldn’t make him snap at you unlike what he just did the second he came back home. You slowly begin to lose your hope.

“God, have you always been this needy? Why can’t you accept that I can’t always put you first? No matter how much I’d want to, sometimes I just can’t! Deal with this!”

“Fucking- Fine.”

Your hand moves quicker than your brain, and the next thing you know, your shiny ring is being pulled off your finger and resting in the palm of your other hand. 

You can see the disbelief flashing through his face briefly before it completely morphs into a scowl. 

“You really think that this will solve the problem?” He asks, eyebrows narrowed as he glowers at you from across the room. “Really? Does that ring mean so little to you that you go and throw it away with any minor inconvenience?” 

You try to blink away the frustrated tears, hand raking up to brush your hair away from your face. “No, fuck, I just- I don’t know what to do anymore, Sunghoon. I feel like I’m the only one in this relationship. I need you to give me something more because whatever you’re doing now is not enough for me.”

“Well, I’m putting out everything I have, YN! I love you! If that’s still not good enough for you, then maybe it’s not meant to be.”

The silence that falls in the room doesn’t last long as your sudden sob pierces Sunghoon’s ears quickly, making his stomach drop to the soles of his feet. His heart wrenches and twists as the anger simmers down and evaporates from his body within a second, and he’s quickly coming back to his senses at the sight of you breaking down right in front of him. 

“Can’t you just try?” You cry into your hands, shielding your face away from your fiance. “That’s all I’m asking of you. Is it really so hard to try?”

No, it’s not. Sunghoon knows it without a second of thinking. It’s not too hard to try, never if it’s for you. And his throat dries so quickly when he basks in the weight of his words that finally made you break as well. 

“You don’t know how much it hurts to feel like you’re too much for your partner,” you wail with a small voice, shoulders trembling and hands quickly getting damp with tears. “You’ll never know how it is to feel unwanted, because you’ll never have to when you're with me. Because I love you, asshole, but now I’m doubting if you’re saying it back just for the sake of it.”

With air getting stuck in his throat, Sunghoon looks at you wide-eyed before quickly crossing the living room and enveloping you in his arms. His warmth wraps around you in what you've always considered to be safety, but now it just makes you cry more. 

He finds it hard to breathe. The hesitation in your eyes feels like a stab to his chest.

“Of course I still love you,” he says, voice muffled by your hair. 

He hates how he made you feel the opposite. He hates how you’re right and he never had to worry about any reassurement of such kind from your side because you’re just that good to him. And his heart breaks with the realization of how much of a lousy partner he’s been to you when all you ever were was nothing less than perfect.

So he places his hand on the back of your head and presses you even closer to his shoulder as you cry, his own eyes burning with tears at the sound of your sobs and sniffles. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, my darling,” he apologizes with a heavy heart, fearful of what’s about to come next. “I didn’t mean to neglect you this much. I could say that I’m tired and the work has been a lot lately, but I know these excuses are not enough to make up for my actions.”

You’re mad and hurt, but you love him and would never want to give up on him, so you wrap your arms around his middle and hold him almost as tight as he holds you, burying your wet face in his chest. 

“I love you more than anything, YN.” He pulls away from you only to cup your face and make you look at him. His long fingers wipe away the tears with gentle touch, soothing your stinging skin instantly. “You could never be too much for me. I want all of you. I promise I’ll do better. I’ll love you better.”

And when you’re looking up at him with these shiny eyes of yours, he closes the distance and presses a loving kiss to your swollen lips, hoping to take at least some of the pain away. He doesn’t think he can hold you any tighter. He can’t love you any stronger than right now, and it messes with his head how easily he could’ve had it all ruined only minutes ago. 

He’ll never take your love for granted ever again. Because if he did, he’d never be able to pick up the parts of whatever was left of him, and put himself back together ever again. 

You can feel his warm hand opening your closed palm before he takes the ring you've been clutching so tightly and holds it in between his fingers. 

“Can I put it back on, baby? Please.”

You nod wordlessly while you try to tame your tears. You hold your slightly trembling hand up to him. He takes it, gently, and watches as your bottom lip wobbles while he slides the ring on your finger just like he did months ago. 

“I'll never screw up like that again. You have my word for it.”

You sniffle quietly when he kisses you right on the cool band adorning your skin. “You better not, Park Sunghoon.”

His long fingers caress your cheek, wiping the remains of the tears away. “Can you forgive me, darling?”

You don't need to think long of an answer. “You know I can never stay mad at you. Even if you're a idiot, I'll never stop loving you. You have my whole heart, Hoon. Please, don't ever make me regret trusting you with it.”

permanent taglist + taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @satoruskitchenrag @ramenoil @jenjnk @jaylaxies @yoongspi @nichoswag @s00buwu @dazzlingligth @goreconsumer @i4kt @heehoonsnemo @seongslutt @seongclb @iamnotalicia

© heeliopheelia 2024 // ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. DO NOT copy, translate or repost any of my works on any other social platforms.

[nutelloona]

some nights I really wish my front door wasn't so fucking loud to open/close bc as much as I feel trapped and suffocated in my room on night like these, - and in my house in general, tiny apartments and all that crap that capitalism keeps blessing us with - dealing with questions or concern from my siblings is one of the most unbearable consequences I can picture

[wrioluvr]

『shhh, not so loud! make me. huh?』 slutty sub yandere x gentle himbo darling, male yandere x male reader

note: thank u all the support on pt 1 ♡♡ was thinking about a scenario where slutty yandere somehow manages to convince his darling to actually fuck him after a lot of begging... even tho reader is scared his large cock will break him apart <3 pt 1

cw: he/him pronouns for reader, mentions of reader's ex-boyfriends, loss of yandere's virginity, implied violence

nervous was the way you were feeling as you made your way to your boyfriend's house. the two of you had started dating a few weeks ago, when after you'd let him suck your dick, he broke down crying, admitted to how desperately he was in love with you, and pleaded on his knees for you to own him and treat him as your personal fucktoy. frantically, you quickly assured him you would treat him as an equal in the relationship, to his slight disappointment. of course, he was ecstatic that you'd agreed to be his boyfriend, but you were his god, how could he not worship such a kind being? in your eyes, despite his rather.... overly submissive behaviour, he was kinda cute, so why not give it a go? if only you knew how deep his obsession truly ran...

and with an progression in your relationship, came a progression in intimacy level as well. the previous day, he had gathered up the courage to ask you to top him, which is why you were making your way to his apartment now. the current fear you were feeling was not for yourself, but for him, you worried that he would hurt himself trying to bottom. you were aware you were bigger than most guys... you wondered how to tell him you weren't too sure about the whole anal thing after all.

but what you did not expect to see the moment you opened the door to his room, was him on his bed on all fours, ass up, using his index and middle finger to spread his tight pink hole towards you. he turned his head around at the sound of your arrival and looked back at you with lust-filled, half-lidded eyes, breathing heavily. "baby! thank god you're finally here... please fuck me already, i've been waiting for hourssss......." his words came out in a pitiful whine.

your eyes widen at his plea. "woah, okay, let's slow down." quickly, you make him sit up, much to his confusion. he was already ready, so why were you hesitant?

taking his hand and squeezing it gently, you tell him what's on your mind. "okay, uh... i'm not too sure if i want to fuck you right now..."

"wha- but- but why? you promised!"

"i know i did, but i'm worried for you. i know i'm kinda... big, so i don't want to make you bleed or anything..."

at your reasoning, he can't help but whine in frustration. don't you understand? he doesn't care about how much it hurts! he wants it to hurt! his one wish is for you to completely destroy him! usually he'd back down, since he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable with his desperation, but he decided to be a little selfish.

reaching over and fondling your crotch, he looked at you with a silent, horny plea in his eyes, then proceeded to sit in your lap and grind on your bulge sensually. he whimpered as your clothed dick got harder and prodded at his hole.

taken back by his sudden boldness, you let him straddle you. "hey... did you even listen to anything i said?"

"forgive me, darling. but i want this so bad. give it to me, pretty please?" he continues to roll his hips on your crotch, not sounding terribly sorry at all.

you sigh, realising you can't change his mind. "okay, just let me know if it hurts, and i'll stop immediately. alright?"

"mhm." but secretly, he'd moan in pleasure no matter how painful it was, relishing in it.

"at least let me prepare you first...?"

"i've been fingering myself for the past hour, you don't need to." he giggled, as he got back down on all fours on his bed, hoping you were proud of his forward thinking. "i want our first time to be special, so i'm fully prepared."

"wait... you're a virgin?" upon hearing your question, he turned his head back to look at you with an incredulous expression on his pretty face, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"but of course, i've been saving myself for you. i don't want anyone else using me." he bit his lip, making sure you knew how much he valued you taking his virginity. he suddenly realised how he'd completely forgotten to ask (or stalk to find out) about your past relationships. "what about you, darling? are you a virgin?" secretly, he was hoping the answer would be yes, but deep down he knew you were far too desirable for that to be true.

"nah. i dated a few guys before, but they broke up with me because they said i was too dumb." you'd never really thought about it deeply, but saying it out loud made you realise that it was rather embarrassing...

"how the fuck could they say that? you're so perfect and kind... forget about them, darling... just focus on me. you won't need to think about those ungrateful whores ever again." his change in tone caught you off guard, grip tightening around your arm. this was the first time he'd ever sounded genuinely pissed off. but this was quickly masked by his usual lovesick smile as he resolved to make you feel so good, your attention would forever be on him and him only.

eagerly, he helped you undress and tried not to blush at the sight of your naked body, even as he relished in the sight of the cock he had gotten on his knees for so many times before. you were confused at his reaction. "we're both guys, why are you embarrassed?" you were so silly sometimes. he was finally going to be made your bitch, of course he would be flustered!

with your cock teasing his entrance, he made his final invitation. "i want you to mess me up inside." he begged as he spread his virgin hole open, groaning in pain and pleasure as you pushed halfway into him. immediately, you looked up to his face in concern. "you okay? it's only halfway in..." "fuck, i said i can take it!" with that, he pushed himself onto your cock with a lewd determination, letting out an overly passionate moan as you fully entered him. instinctively, you shushed him, not wanting the neighbours to hear. "shhh! you're being too loud....." "make me." he retorts defiantly, trying to rile you up so you would be rougher. "huh?" fuck, he was really pushing it today. you really didn't want to, but he was making far too much noise. resorting to muting him forcefully, you reach for his mouth and clamp your hands over it, effectively gagging him. his eyes widen, not expecting you to take the bait, but he's in heaven. you can practically see the hearts in his eyes as he sluttily sucks on your fingers, all that's left is a series of muffled whimpers.

even though your mind was currently preoccupied with the way your boyfriend's squeezing your cock, you can't help but think about your exes after he brought the topic up. you knew you were a little dumber than most, but did all those guys really break up with you just because you were stupid? he seemed to sense your feelings and clenched harder, making you lose focus and grip his hips tightly. the thought of you thinking about your exes while you were inside him was horrible, he couldn't have that at all! "s-see, darling, my ass is much better than those sluts, isn't it- uuummfff." he could barely form words as he continued to ride you up and down, savouring the way your large length stretched his inner walls to their limit. it was quite the stark contrast - you were thrusting in and out of him at a tender pace, making sure you were never too rough (feeling a little guilty for muffling him so forcefully just now), but yet he was whimpering and writhing all over the bed, gripping the sheets whenever you hit his prostrate at regular intervals. he desperately tried to fuck himself on your cock when you slowed down, noticing his tears, begging you to start again. after a bit, you felt like you were about to reach your climax. "hey, i'm about to co-" "do it inside me." you didn't have time to argue as he pulled you closer into a hug, making you cum inside him, much to his delight. he adored the way you filled him up, feeling you pump load after load into his hole. he rubbed his stomach, wishing he could get pregnant with your child. but alas, he can't have everything. today was already a huge victory. exhausted, he collapsed into your arms as you stroked his hair, apologising for being a little rough and hoping his ass didn't hurt too much. he couldn't really focus on what you were saying as he just lay there and stared up at you affectionately. god, you were just perfect, weren't you?

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

in the middle of night, as you slept peacefully, the boy you fucked a few hours ago had just finished going through your phone, his one objective being obtaining the names of your exes. "don't worry, darling.... i'll take care of those unappreciative bastards myself. no one gets to make you feel stupid." he whispers to your ear lovingly before getting out of bed. he hoped you wouldn't be too mad when you found out he killed them when you woke up. or maybe he did, just so you could punish him. ♡

[nightprompts]

&. 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

(  happy sunday! here's another assortment of smut / nsfw dialogue prompts but with more explicit language. a dirtier sequel to my other, more subtle, smut prompt list. please do not interact if you are under eighteen. )

❛ you can't expect me to do all the work. i want to see what that pretty mouth of yours can do. ❜

❛ you're mine, and i take care of what belongs to me. ❜

❛ i want to fuck you so badly. ❜

❛ i want you to fuck me so badly. ❜

❛ do you really think you’re in a position to give orders? ❜

❛ please. make me feel good. no one else can like you. ❜

❛ you can call me whatever you want, baby. ❜

❛ be good, and i'll fuck you / let you fuck me. ❜

❛ we're going to fuck right here? what if someone sees us? ❜

❛ that really does make you hard. i can feel you pulsing inside me. ❜

❛ do whatever you want with me, i'm yours. ❜

❛ your body was made for mine. ❜

❛ you keep your hands where they are or i'll tie them up. ❜

❛ you want gentle? wrong fucking address. ❜

❛ have a little trust in yourself, i know you can take it. ❜

❛ it's my thigh or nothing. i'm not helping you get off. ❜

❛ i'm waiting for your permission to let me have my way with you. ❜

❛ i don't care if someone sees us. i need you, now. ❜

❛ i can see you enjoy having the upper hand for once. ❜

❛ you're such a fucking tease, you know that? ❜

❛ let me come in you, please. i want to fill you up. ❜

❛ come in me. i need you to fill me up. ❜

❛ now, i'll ask again, are you going to be good for me? ❜

❛ we both know how much you're going to enjoy this. ❜

❛ i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making. ❜

❛ you can take my clothes off for me. ❜

❛ begging is a good look for you. ❜

❛ i'll take good care of you, i promise. ❜

❛ i'd say you need someone to put you in your place. ❜

❛ so good for me. look how much you came. ❜

❛ i can take care of you. you won't need anyone but me. ❜

❛ it made them hard to see me bleed. just like it's making you hard. ❜

❛ you're mine. you've always been mine. ❜

❛ i want to see how pretty you look with your lips around my dick / strap. ❜

❛ i'm simply enjoying the view. it's not every day i get to fuck someone so pretty. ❜

❛ you're so good for me, so fucking good around me, fucking made for me. ❜

❛ you came so fast, i barely even touched you. ❜

❛ do what you want, but you'd better make it good or i'll kill you. ❜

❛ as much as i'd love to have you choking on me, i'm impatient and there's something else i want more. ❜

❛ missed my touch that much, did you? ❜

❛ someone's needy. ❜

❛ you taste like heaven. ❜

❛ i need to come. please, i'll do anything. ❜

❛ i'm going to put that mouth of yours to good use. ❜

❛ you're fucking gorgeous like that, spread out like a good boy / girl who just wants to be eaten. ❜

❛ you'll be begging for me by the time i'm through with you. ❜

❛ let me stay like this in you for a little bit. ❜

❛ look at that pretty expression. i always knew you could make one. ❜

❛ was it good for you too? it's never been like that before. you've never been like this before. ❜

❛ is that how you usually get out of these situations? by fucking your way out of them? ❜

❛ i love that no one else has seen you like this, that no one else has felt you before, been inside you. they don't get to have you, but i do. ❜

[amazinglyashy]

Hi hi I just found your blog like an hour ago and I’ve been scrolling and am obsessed with the way you write for the l&ds!! ❤️❤️ if you don’t mind I love a little angst and was wondering if you could write the boys reacting to MC showing up at their doorstep heavily injured from like a fight with a wanderer.

Oh my gosh thank you!!! And I don't mind at all, my friends make fun of me for how much I enjoy hurt/comfort and angst :'D Thank you for the request!

LaDS men react to you appearing on their doorstep, injured and bleeding

Xavier -

If you end up at his door, it's more than likely because your unconscious decided to hit the button for his floor rather than your own. You just wanted to get home, not bother anyone, but he's stood right there. Having just come home from grabbing a late night snack from a nearby convenience store, you stumbled out of the elevator right as he's unlocking his front door.

He drops his keys and his bag.

It's a good thing too, because your legs gave out right then, so it's much better for him to catch you if his arms are free.

He's calling your name, and while you're still conscious, you're not really processing anything anymore. You're in too much shock, and you've lost too much blood by now.

He'll get the door unlocked and rush you inside his apartment, setting you down on his couch as he runs for a first aid kit, calling the association for emergency services while he does so.

"You're going to be okay. I promise. Just continue to breathe, alright?"

Xavier doesn't know if he's saying that to comfort you or himself, but he also isn't stopping to think about it, as he rapidly administers first aid to your wounds to at least slow the bleeding until help can arrive.

It's three in the morning but he's wide awake sitting next to your bed at the hospital, something unnatural for someone so sleep deprived usually.

He can't bring himself to shut his eyes though.

It's not work the risk.

Not until you wake up first.

Zayne -

It's like his brain splits into two the moment that he sees you standing there.

One side is his medical knowledge rushing forward as he moves to catch you as your feet stumble beneath you, trying to impossibly assess the extent of the damage before even getting to see it all. It's the half that's taking you to his kitchen table, because it's the easiest workspace for him right now. The one that's pulling out his doctor's bag from the closet in the hall, and the first aid kit from the cupboard in the kitchen as he cuts your shirt open.

The other side?

Oh honey, his heart is breaking.

If you think there's a day at work where he doesn't pray to any existent or nonexistent god that he doesn't see you today, spread out on a gurney or operating table without warning due to your unconscious state, then you'd be painfully wrong.

It's amazing how well he works while panicking on the inside, his skilled hands patching your wounds after meticulous sterilization, any sutures needed placed perfectly even through your pained groans tugging at his heart.

He knows he needs to get you to the hospital, even though he's taken good care of you in his own home. But he needs to sink to the floor for a minute, his back dragging against the wall as he heaves a deep sigh. It's a heavy toll feeling the stick of the dried blood on his hands- your blood on his hands.

With all his knowledge, he knows you'll be okay. He knows he himself will be okay. But right now-

He's not.

Sylus -

The N109 zone is beyond dangerous, mostly due to the criminals and leeches lurking in the dark shadows, but there's also no shortage of Wanderers, including ones that have been genetically altered to be even worse than they normally were.

So when Sylus sees you stumbling at his doorstep, bloodied hand reaching for the knob as he glances at the camera feed, he's not sure he could say he's ever moved so fast in his life otherwise. "Sweetie-" He breathes, as he catches you, scooping you up and rushing you inside as quickly as he possibly can without aggravating your already extensive injuries.

Luke is already running for first aid, and Kieran is already contacting the doctor. Mephisto is shrieking in the hall as he follows Sylus to his bedroom, protesting the fact that Sylus had needed him for surveillance of a target today instead of watching you.

Sylus knows.

He knows this is his fault.

If he had had someone keeping an eye on you, this wouldn't have happened.

His eyes are glued to your barely conscious form in his arms, the guilt in the recesses of his heart digging deeper with every slather of red that painted your skin.

Sorry to say, you're going to have your work cut out for you when you wake up. It's going to take a lot of heavy lifting on your part to convince him that he's not at fault for what happened to you.

And you will be waking up.

Sylus will make sure of that.

Rafayel -

Don't make his nightmares a reality.

Not again.

He's catching you before you can even begin to sway, and he'll be lucky if he remembers to shut the door behind him, his body melding against yours as he picks you up and runs down to his car.

"No, no no no. You stay awake, cutie."

He's definitely breaking at least a dozen laws just trying to get you to Akso hospital as quickly as he can. His mind is racing as fast as his car is moving down the streets, wondering what could have happened to you, what he should be doing right now, if he should have administered first aid to you before taking off-

But he's there so fast, it would have been nearly identical on the clock regardless of him still choosing to rush you to the hospital, or run to get and administer first aid for you from within his home.

He's there until you wake up- wide awake no matter how long it takes. It could be minutes, hours, days- he can't sleep. The image of you dying before him- the image of you standing on his doorstep as well- etched on the back of his eyelids every time he tried to close his eyes.

He talks to you even when you're not awake, stroking your hand, your cheek, the side of your neck- trying to make sure you're as comfortable as he can make you.

When you wake up again, he has to hold himself back with everything in him from squeezing you too tightly. He doesn't want to burst your stitches or harm you, but his body and arms are all-encompassing on you as he hugs you firmly, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

He really doesn't need you to see him cry.

[rose-bookblood]

Between the 11th and 12th of this month, Giulia Cecchettin, a 22-year-old Italian girl, disappeared alongside her ex boyfriend, Filippo Turetta. Today, 18th November, her body was found in a lake 140km from where I live.

For six days, we were told that they ran away together, despite the fact Giulia was supposed to graduate from university on the 16th. That we shouldn't jump to conclusions, that there wasn't any proof he had killed her, that we were crazy for even thinking it. When a video of him beating Giulia up until she was bleeding came out, newspapers were filled with declarations from his family saying he loved her, he would never do anything to hurt her, he was just a little possessive and jealous.

We all knew. We all fucking knew since we read the words "ex boyfriend".

Giulia is the 103rd woman victim of feminicide in Italy in 2023. 103.

Meanwhile, Giulia's sister Elena, who has had to spend the last week making as much noise as possible because that was her only hope of finding her sister, was asked if the family was ready to forgive him. Newspapers talk about how good of a guy he was, they carefully avoid saying he murdered her, they refer to them as a couple. I've lost track of how many men have taken time to comment "not all men" under posts about Giulia.

Not all men, but all women.

If you live outside of Italy, you probably won't hear of this news. You probably don't know how pervasive victim blaming is in Italian news stations, how bad the statistics of feminicide are. So, please, reblog this post. Demand justice. Say Giulia Cecchettin's name.

Se domani non torno, distruggi tutto.

[signedkoko]

Could I get a Mammon, Vox and Husk with a S/O who gets harassed on the street and their reaction? You can have full creative control over what type of harassment!

I love your fics- if this isn’t getting the creative juices flowing just let me know and I’ll request something different <3

🦷 anon

Husk | Mammon | Vox [Romantic]

In which some loathsome idiot thinks they'll get away with harassing their beloved s/o.

One of your favourite date nights is spent bar hopping

Pop a drink or two in each one, sometimes sharing one cocktail, his wing draped around you, your head leant on his shoulder, humming to the music surrounding you

Both of you had a preference for the less popular spots, the kinds of places you got the weirdest combinations, where he could be inspired and you could give him thoughts

The plus side of the smaller joints was that the music was never too loud, drinks were cheaper, and there was always a few spots free at the bar

Downside was that most places had their regulars, the kind of people who couldn't get in anywhere else

The kind of desperation that builds and spreads like mold in the corner of a dark room next to a leaky pipe

On a few occasions, someone would harmlessly ask to buy you a drink and would turn tail when Husk gave them his usually 'fuck off' look

But this time, the guy would just not get the hint

" What? Already claimed dibs on the bitch? "

Yeah- no, that attitude towards you is not going to fly

Not even three seconds and there's a bottle smashed on the drunk demons head, and three cards flying back into Husk's hand

That's when the bleeding starts

You slap a 20 down for your bill and jump straight up, already being dragged by Husk out the door

Insists if he stayed there you would have both gotten banned anyways, and he likes that spot

You guys don't really go out so casually without a good reason, or just for old times sake

A sin and his spouse on a city street in greed was just asking for bad things to happen

But still, if you asked and he had nothing that day, Mammon would always rather get quality time with you and people watch

Thats most of your conversation, pointing out demons and joking about what you think they are like, what the do, how they speak

It's always a fun game, until some newcomer saw you laughing at him and marched right up, clearly on something and clearly ready to have a go at someone

The moment he reaches for your wrist, his thumb falls to the floor, a messy and jagged cut the only sign of attack besides one of Mammons spider legs now revealed

Before he can even realize the pain or what's happened, Mammon lets out a menacing laugh

" Every extra inch towards my broad is another finger. "

That demon was already screaming and running away, most the crowd on the street that was watching now hurrying in any direction opposite of you and Mammon

" I'm only worth one finger? "

" Nah. Just being generous for once. "

Not really a street guy, but unfortunately some press conferences and events require mingling and interacting with others, which he never liked

Thankfully, with you he has an excuse to stay away from others, or show you off

He usually goes for the latter

He's all 'Have you met my wife?' 'My wife loves x and y!' 'Isn't my wife absolutely gorgeous?'

You are the first topic he speaks of after his company; you'd be the first if he didn't have to waste so much time being a salesman, but that is how the cookie crumbles

Sometimes when there's specific press releases, he has to send you off for a moment, where you usually go and mingle with some of the others in his industry you befriended

During one such interview, he couldn't help but spot out the corner of his eye, some lousy business woman drape her arm around your waist and grab at your hip

" Sorry yeah, this interview is over. "

Literally shoves his way over, sparks and electricity flying, to rip you out of her arms

" Baaabe, is this a friend? Whatever the case, we really gotta get going! "

Jealousy 3000

He's glad he stepped in after he overhears that lady had a habit of harassing other attendees

New clause in every interview; they have to include you or provide security over you while he is busy

Author's Note - Tooth anon comes in for another PIPIN HOT request!! I actually feel so bad because every time I take a break form writing is on yoru request and that really makes it look bad I am so sorry 😩

[synqiri]

"SAY CHEESE ! "

or, his favourite photo of you.

PAIRING: aventurine, dan heng x gn!reader

WARNINGS: none

WORDCOUNT: 0.6K || CONTENT: fluff, slice of life, kisses!!!

NOTES: something silly for the sillies

AVENTURINE awakens to tangled sheets, and your limbs sprawled over his.

your embrace is warmer than the sunlight that filters in through the curtains, your soft breaths ghosting over his neck from where your head is cosily tucked in. he smiles, a touch fondly. a muffled grumble leaves your lips as he twists out of your hold. 

he grabs his phone from his nightstand, snapping a photo of the scene easily. he’d use it to tease you later, when you are awake.

you were so incredibly worried during the entirety of the last night, after he had initially offered to let you sleep over. yet here you are now, spread across his bed as if it were your very own.

“are you sure?” you had asked, with drawn brows and pursed lips. “it's really okay, i can get home just fine.”

he only laughed, head cocked to the side, a smirk tugging at his lips. “careful now, love, or i might just get the impression you don't want to stay at all.”

“i do,” you protest. your expression softens, and you raise a hand, reaching for him, only to drop it midway. “really, i do. i'm just scared that sleeping over is too… we promised to take things slow.”

“well then, we must have different definitions of ‘slow’, darling. how could ever i let my little lucky charm travel home by themselves this late into the night?”

you sigh, your body sagging into the couch, and he knows he's won. it’s thrilling. he leans in, dipping his head, pressing a kiss to your temple which you do not refuse. instead, you giggle, meeting him halfway. 

“fine,” you say. “i’ll stay the night. just this once.”

in the end, you begin to stay over for many, many nights more, and the photo he had taken that first morning is never brought up to you at all.

… until the day you notice his phone's wallpaper.

“DAN HENG!” you call, barrelling into the archives and straight into him.

he barely has the time to look at you before you sling an arm around his shoulder, pulling him close. you hold march's camera up high.

“say cheese!”

you turn to him, pressing a big, fat kiss to his cheek, and the shutter goes off with a snap.

when you release him from your hold, he huffs. “what was that all about?”

“march let me borrow her camera,” you tell him, grinning, bright and delighted and childishly gleeful. he can guess as much. he nods anyway, so you continue. “let's take another one!”

he sighs, and you cackle.

…

“did you even try to smile?” you complain, shuffling through the polaroid photos. there are at least ten different pieces in your hand, and many more takes you didn't print out. “awh, this one's cute.”

“i did,” he defends himself. smiling came as naturally to you as did breathing, but that simply wasn't the case for him. he gestures at one of the photos discarded on the bed, near your feet. “i smiled in that one.”

you pick it up to inspect. “awh.”

when you are done sifting through the photos, you leave him all the ones you do not want.

“you can do whatever with the rest,” you tell him cheerily. “i have to go and return march her camera now.”

then, you're bounding out of the room as quickly as you had come.

he picks up the photo closest to him, and realises it is the first one you had taken. his eyes are slightly wide with surprised, his head partially turned to you. your joy is wide and infectious, bleeding through the film so easily it makes him smile. though your face is half hidden behind his cheek, he can see the crinkles in your eye and your endearingly silly grin.

the lighting is off, and the picture itself is blurry, but he finds he loves it all the same.

he slips it into his drawer for safekeeping.

[literaila]

are you stupid?

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you come home injured and satoru isn't cool with it

warnings: literal hurt/comfort, descriptions of a wound bad enough to warrant stitches, little angst, fluff, slightly ooc satoru

last part | next part

*

year six.

“are you stupid?” 

your hands are frozen to the touch, barely able to grasp the doorknob when his voice comes from nowhere at all. 

you almost don't notice it when satoru opens the door. you have to blink to focus on him, but by the time you do, you're already falling against the empty space in front of you. 

satoru is quick to catch your arm, righting you before you break your nose on the hardwood.

“that’s my line,” you tell him, slightly coughing--it sends shocks down your spine and you shiver. you shake his hand off of you, trying to walk forward, but there's a wall of a man standing there. you blink at him. "hey, satoru. would you mind moving?” 

“i could smell the blood from down the block,” he says, his voice rougher than usual, completely still. “what did you do?” 

you roll your eyes, waving a hand (even though it makes you a bit woozy). “there’s no way you could smell that. it’s not even that bad.” 

“it’s dripping down your shirt.” 

you pout, looking down. "i just washed this, too.” 

it is a lot of blood, you realize suddenly. you would definitely get some looks if you were walking down the street in public. 

still, you don't feel all that banged up. it's not really your fault that you were slightly distracted when that curse snuck up on you... or at least, you're pretty sure it's not. 

satoru, shaking his head--maybe finally realizing that you're fine--moves out of the way, holding the door open for you. "what did you do?"

you step through, using the wall to keep you steady. “how do you know i did anything?” 

you finally look at satoru, even though he's fading from your eyeline, in and out of focus. he's not wearing his blindfold or his glasses, and he's got a frown that rivals one of megumi's at the moment. 

it makes you laugh, just a little, as you try to shake the shoes from your feet. 

he was probably sleeping, you think. usually, you'd probably feel... at least slightly bad. but right now? you don't even care. 

you're just happy to see him, right in front of you like your own personal greeting card. you've only been gone a day, but satoru feels much further away than that. 

especially with his frown and his furrowed eyebrows. he's in a mood, you remember, frowning. 

“why are you bleeding, y/n?” 

you cough again, tapping his chest as you move past him. “jeez, lighten up, satoru. i’m good,” you say this as you limp down the hallway, wincing with every step. 

you don't get to watch satoru's eye roll, but it takes less than a second for an arm to wrap under your shoulders, satoru forcing your weight onto him, and he practically carries you through the house until you reach the kitchen, where he sets you on the countertop. 

he's looking at you like you're a fragile baby bird. 

and he doesn't bother to ask--of course he doesn't--before he lifts your shirt from your abdomen, it slightly sticking (due to the blood) before it rolls up. 

satoru's eyes widen as he inspects you. "woah," he whispers, paling just a little bit. 

you don't look down with him--because that's a terrible idea--but you watch satoru. 

you can barely feel it, actually. it's basically just a minor cut, nothing too--

you try not to gasp when satoru presses a finger near your ribs, not directly touching the wound, but far too close to it. it would be embarrassing to double over in pain, wouldn't it?

“is it bad?” you wonder, breathlessly, feeling a bit light-headed. 

satoru’s head snaps up, “you didn’t look?” 

“i was a bit distracted. the curse wasn't gracious enough to give me the chance to grab a couple of bandaids, the bastard."

“how did you even manage to do this?” 

your eyes trail down unconsciously, but all you can see is your bunched-up shirt--drenched in blood. yeah, you'll probably have to burn it. 

satoru is looking up and down, his face entirely disgusted, nose scrunched up and eyes avoiding your own. 

it makes you laugh a little--because you're very familiar with satoru and his opposition to anything humanly--which then makes you wince with him. 

it doesn't hurt that bad, really. 

“can you get the first aid kit?” you ask him, pushing his hands away from you and your cut. but as soon as satoru isn't right there to lean on, you begin to tilt forward. 

satoru immediately resumes his position as your pillar. “are you kidding? i’m calling shoko.” 

“i know how to do stitches, satoru. it’s late.” 

“you need, like, a stomach replacement for that.” 

you roll your eyes, leaning even further into him. at least when you're pressed up against his chest, you don't have to breathe. “you’re so dramatic.” 

satoru is still frowning. “doesn’t that hurt?” 

“nope,” you lie, sitting up and pushing his hands away again. “i’m running on adrenaline. it’s not that deep, anyway.” 

he gives you a hard look. 

you sigh. “what’s wrong with you? you can drop the act.” 

“what act?” 

“the ‘i’m the caretaker’ act.” 

“what if i came home with a hole in my stomach?" satoru's jaw is clenched. "what would you do?” 

“i can't think about hypotheticals right now, satoru,” you whine. “please get the first aid kit?” 

“should i get megumi too? might as well teach him how to stitch you up, he's getting to that age, you know.” 

“funny,” you say, dryly. “do you want me to bleed out on our counter, or…?” 

satoru sighs, but he walks out of the kitchen a moment later. hopefully to save you from dying. 

you exhale, feeling your chest tighten. you can't feel much, for the most part. but then there's that feeling every couple of seconds, a memory of the whole thing playing out-- except your head is fuzzy, and everything looks sort of… colorful right now. 

you can’t even remember how you got here. or the last time a curse managed to actually injure you. 

it feels a bit juvenile, really. 

especially because you’re in no position to be taking care of yourself—but in no world would you wake up shoko in the middle of the night for this. in no world would you wake up anyone, except for satoru, to deal with you, with your blood and your stubbornness. 

god, you hate pain. you hate having to wash blood out of your clothes, and you hate sitting here by yourself. 

you slump down. only seconds have gone by, but it feels like so much more than that. the wound burns, you think, in an unnatural way. 

you probably got poisoned and you're probably going to die and satoru is going to stomp on your grave, and--

“do we even have enough gauze to cover that up?” satoru is asking you when he walks back in. he's wearing nothing but a t-shirt and shorts, you realize, watching him. 

his eyes are stern, focused, and the rest of him is morose. you should be able to gaze at him, to stare--but you can't because your vision has spots in it, and everything about satoru is too hard right now. 

he’s been like this for days. casual but stuck—like he can’t find it in him to laugh about anything. his face has been a field of lines, with no breaks in between, and his eyes have been greyer than they should be, a sort of dim color that you hate. 

satoru's eyes are wild, usually. they are blue fires and the vast expanse of the universe. 

but not right now, when he's looking at you like this. and not this week--because he's barely been looking at you at all. 

and it's unfortunate not just because you miss him, but because you're not as good at casting it all away as he is. you can't shove things aside and make light out of the darkest situations. 

you can't fill his role, and yet you keep trying to. 

it's an inevitable cycle of failing and never being enough. 

“i’ll just cut up your shirt if there’s not enough,” you tell him, putting on a smile so he can’t tell how badly you want to start crying.

is this real pain, you wonder, or a dream? 

“use your own shirts.”

you pout. “but yours are the best quality.” 

satoru rolls his eyes, again, and begins to wipe off all of the well-used tools you have. a needle you've had for years, stolen from jujutsu high, and thread you can't remember taking. 

“what are you doing?” you try to grab the instruments from his hands, clumsily, almost cutting yourself again in the process. 

satoru is quick to hold them away, keeping them up and out of your reach. not that you were going to try very hard anyway. 

“i’m going to stitch you up," he says, like he's scolding you. 

“you don’t know how.” 

“please,” satoru scoffs, shaking his head. he gets a cloth wet under the facet, and then holds it towards you. “i probably learned how to do this before you were even born."

“when you were nine months old?” 

“clean it.” 

you listen, holding the cloth to your wound and still not looking down. it feels sort of ticklish, and also like you're being tortured. 

“you don’t have to,” you tell satoru after a moment, breathing through the nausea that comes with the pain. “i know you’re squeamish around blood.” 

“i am not squeamish.” 

you grin at him. “sure.” 

satoru looks up, and finally, his face relaxes, just a little bit. you can even see the workings of a smile on his mouth—the first you’ve gotten in days. 

he shakes his head. “i’ll be fine. sit up.” 

“seriously,” you say, again, catching his hand just as he’s about to touch you. “i can do it.” 

“seriously, i’m not letting you. your hands are shaking.” 

you look down, releasing his wrist. “oh.” 

“yeah, oh.” 

satoru kneels so he can see your cut properly, his face narrowed in concentration. you focus on him as he touches the tender skin by the wound, featherlight fingertips trailing across your skin.

you shiver and apologize under your breath. 

he hasn't been this close in days. 

“does it hurt now?” he asks you, voice so quiet that it almost echoes through the house. 

“not really,” but you look up towards the ceiling. somehow you know it’s going to be worse if you watch. 

“i can call—“ 

“no, satoru. i already told you, if you don’t want to do it then i—“ 

“okay, i’m doing it. i’m doing it.” 

you close your eyes when he punctures your skin, waiting for the feeling to subside. it's just a prick, but you still have to think about getting the mail, going to the store, taking a shower after this, or maybe just crawling out from your own skin and becoming a spirit.

but satoru seems to recognize this, maybe from your face, and he asks, “what kind of curse was it?” 

“dunno?” you breathe out, mapping a picture on the ceiling in your mind. 

“what do you mean?” 

“i can't remember.” 

satoru looks up. “what?”

“it’s all a blur,” you say, wanting to shove his hands off of you. you've been trained to kick people away, so it's really not your fault. “i think i won though.” 

“i don’t think this is winning.” 

“keep going,” you tell him, instead of arguing. “i’m fine.” 

satoru tsks but does as you say, resuming the smooth movements of suturing. any normal day, you'd probably want to watch his hands work, want to inspect his job and make fun of him for the way he holds his breath while looking at an open wound.

“how were the kids?” you ask him, after a moment. 

satoru breathes out, nodding. his hair is messy, his face slightly wrinkled from sleeping still. “they missed you.” 

“it was only a day. did megumi get that book report back yet? he was worried about it before i left, but i told him—“ 

“i missed you.” 

you look down, forgetting about pain or blood. “what?” 

“i miss you,” he says, this time, like it’s any different. satoru keeps his eyes down, his hands moving. but there's a guilty look on his face--something that tells you he didn't mean to say anything. 

“satoru…” 

“are you still mad at me?” 

you tilt your head. “mad? why would i be mad at you?” 

“you haven’t been coming to bed,” satoru answers, obviously.

your eyes widen. “satoru—“ and there’s a sharp pain in your side. 

“sorry,” he murmurs, softly, at your flinch. 

“i’m not mad at you,” you tell him, trying not to double over. your voice is high-pitched and breathy. you feel like a child—ridiculous and foolish—but it doesn’t stop you from speaking. “i was never mad at you.” 

“you weren't?” 

“you asked me for space. i was just giving it to you.” 

satoru pauses, looking up at you. 

“i… i didn’t want to push you into talking to me. i thought—i don’t know, that maybe things had changed. i mean, we don’t have to…” you wince, and it’s not because of the pain this time. “to sleep together. or in the same room. if you don’t want that anymore—“ 

“no." 

"no what?" 

he shakes his head. "i want that."

“satoru, you’re not going to hurt my feelings—“ 

“i was wrong," he cuts in, voice rough. you don't think you've ever heard him say those words before. "i don’t want space, i never did.” 

you blink at him, brows furrowing. “then why did you…” 

“i—“ he stops. looks around. “does it hurt?” 

and you know, just as you know most things about satoru, that he can't continue. that the truth is going to cut just a little bit too deep--deeper than your injury--and he can't bring himself to say it. 

so you only take another deep breath, pushing away the feeling of your skin being patched back together, and nod. 

“a little,” you say softly. 

an unspoken understanding passes between the two of you, and breathing gets a little bit easier all of a sudden. 

maybe it wasn't the pain. maybe it was just the tension, the build-up of days apart. 

it makes sense, even to your slightly fogged-over mind. 

and then the two of you sit there while satoru patches you up, sharing a glance every couple of seconds—a glance with so many words, so tender and feeling that it succeeds in making you even dizzier. blood loss has nothing on the way satoru makes you feel. 

you can't see his hands--don't dare to--but you can feel the softness of them, the care he's taking in stitching you up. 

if it were any day, you would laugh at him for it. but right now, you just accept it. bask in it. 

“how’s that feel?” satoru whispers to you, after he’s tied it off and wiped the blood from your skin. 

you don't bother to look down. really, you don't want to see the freshly sutured line on your abdomen, but also, you just want to keep looking at him. 

it's much more gratifying, at least.

“good," you say, voice stronger, easier. "is it going to scar?” 

satoru scoffs. “if you wanted untouched skin then we should’ve called shoko—“ 

“shut up,” you interrupt. “i’m not listening to the medical advice of someone who’s never gotten a scratch in his life.” 

“i let you scratch me.” 

“well, obviously, i’m the exception,” you smile at him, exhausted and sweaty and still a little out of it—but home. with him. 

and this time satoru actually smiles back. 

it’s a bizarre thing, his smile. the first one you’ve gotten in days and it wakes you up immediately. almost like realizing you’ve been in the dark for weeks, just getting a glimpse of the light. 

he's a peek into something more--unearthly. if the closest thing you get to divinity is satoru, then you won't complain.

“you okay?” you ask him, but you’re only teasing. 

“that’s my line,” he says. 

“you sure?” 

satoru leans towards you, forehead against yours. “i’m sure.” 

you sit there for a moment. satoru is usually the one clinging to you, but tonight you feel like if he moves away you might never get him back. 

so you sit there, make sure to hold him to you, secure with your hands wrapped around his biceps, his arms grazing against yours as he leans against the counter. 

you're probably a mess right now--your skin stained with blood that shouldn't be outside your body, your face covered in dirt, your hair and clothes drenched in sweat and rain. but satoru doesn't seem to mind, so you don't think about it too hard. 

he deserves it, at least, for making ridiculous assumptions. you have to get him back somehow, after all. 

after a minute, or two, or maybe even three, you clear your throat. “great. i’m alive, you’re… less annoying than usual. let’s go to bed.” 

“‘less?’” satoru gapes at you, but his laughter is unmistakable. 

“yeah, i know," you say, feigning shock, "i was surprised too.” 

he flicks your forehead but you’re still smiling at him. 

“okay,” satoru whispers, leaning back. “bedtime.” 

you rub at the spot around your wound one more time, already feeling the days of sore skin and itchy muscles, and then you push satoru so you can hop off of the counter. 

“hey,” he says, suddenly, stopping you. his voice is quick, almost lost. but his hands wrap around your wrists, keeping them between the two of you so you can't escape. and satoru's eyes are on your face, flickering between the different points of your skin, looking like he's just realized that he's lost something.

you raise a brow, but don't push back against his chest or try to pry his hands away. “what?” 

satoru swallows, still watching you. 

his eyelashes are long enough to touch his skin, and his eyes are blue enough to take up the whole world. you want to grin at the saturation of him--so much brighter than you've seen him in days--but you refrain. you don't want to scare him away. 

but you're not so eager to move. it's easy to wait on satoru, really--to wait for his words, to let him collect his thoughts--because you've only spent nine years studying his face. you've only admired the slope of his nose and the tilt of his chin since you were sixteen, and there's much more to be discovered. 

so staring at him is simple. especially when there's so much to look at. 

you have plenty of unmarked territory you need to take over. 

you keep a slight smile on your face while you wait, and eventually, satoru groans, hanging his head back. 

“what?” you repeat, laughing just a little. 

“can you stop looking at me like that?” 

“like what?” you nudge your head against his chin, and satoru glares at you. 

“i’m trying to be serious.” 

“oh, okay,” you try to push away your smile, but you can't. it's glued where it is. “i’m serious.” 

“you’re not.” 

“what is it, satoru? i’m listening.” 

his eyes meet yours, again, and you almost flinch. 

everything about satoru is forceful, except for the way he looks at you. the way his eyes relax, his entire face falling when you're both eye to eye. it's a look you've only observed on one person, in only one particular moment. 

and, you think, all of a sudden, it might be your favorite look. 

but you're still fed up with waiting. you're tired of his consideration, his contemplative eyes. you want satoru back--with his ridiculous laughter and stupid jokes. you want him irritating the sanity out of you and simultaneously bringing you to life. 

you don't tell him that though, because in this moment you'll take what you can get. 

any version of satoru is better than none at all. you’ve learned that the hard way. 

“hey,” he says, one more time. his smile is unusual, a frightened little thing. “i love you.” 

you freeze. 

your face falls flat, thinking of the words in a million different ways. you might've misheard him--but you're so locked in on him that it seems impossible. 

at once, you consider exactly what he means, so many different variations of the same thing. 

does he love you like your parents did, always too much but never enough?

does he love you like you love megumi and tsumiki—like your life depends on it? like you’d be wrecked without them? 

or does satoru love you like you love him? does he love you like it’s breathing? like there’s never been a choice in the matter? 

but, it's simple. a beat passes, three seconds of contemplation--just enough for the words to ring true throughout your body. 

the way he’s looking at you is enough to answer any question you have. 

satoru loves you like a promise, and nothing less. 

“you idiot,” you say, a sudden, day-breaking smile on your face. “don’t you think i know that?"

*

"should we wake them up?" tsumiki asks, walking up behind megumi, staring down at you both. she's rubbing her eyes, her hair slightly messy.

megumi considers it for a moment.

neither of them have woken up like this in a while. you and gojo are getting better at falling asleep in bed instead of on the couch.

but, at this point, megumi thinks that it's probably a habit. or just to annoy him.

gojo's face is shoved into your chest and your hands are tangled in his hair. the both of you have silly smiles on your faces, and seriously. how do you both manage to fall asleep in such uncomfortable positions.

"no," megumi whispers, yawning. "i can make breakfast. mom probably got home pretty late."

"okay," tsumiki says, still staring.

megumi rolls his eyes and walks away. honestly, what did he do to deserve getting two idiots for parents?

*

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