#and what she deserves and she's gonna stand by that!!!!!!

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: "Body Shots & Basketball"

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Rating: Mature ( MIDNI!!!)

Warning:wlw smut, mentions of alcohol, semi-public sex (fingering r reseving in bar bathroom), !panty theif Paige, !top Paige,!bottom reader, drunk sex, !purple strap Paige, lots of pet names

Fandom: UConn Women’s Basketball

Summary: playing their favorite post-game drinking game: Who Would You Let? You and your friend. When the question turns extra spicy—choosing between Paige or Azzi for a body shot— you hesitates. But Paige overhears

“Okay, next question.”

I leaned back in my barstool, sipping my drink as my best friend grinned mischievously across from me. Ted’s was packed after the UConn women’s game, the usual post-victory energy buzzing through the air.

My best friend, always the instigator, tapped a manicured nail against her shot glass. “Who would you let take a body shot off you—Paige or Azzi?”

I choked on my drink. “Excuse me?”

She smirked. “You heard me.”

I shook my head, laughing. “Oh, you’re messy for that.”

“That’s the game! If you don’t answer, you take two shots. If you do, you gotta explain your reasoning.”

I glanced down at my nearly empty glass, then back up at her. “...Two shots?”

She nodded, raising a brow. “Unless you got an answer.”

I exhaled, pretending to think. “Okay, okay… Paige.”

She gasped dramatically. “Ooooh! You better explain yourself.”

I rolled my eyes. “First of all, both are insanely attractive, so it’s not an easy choice. But Paige is a little more… I don’t know, dangerous.”

My friend snorted. “Dangerous? Paige Bueckers?”

I shrugged, swirling my straw around my drink. “She’s got that flirty menace energy. Like, you know she’d talk her way into getting what she wants.”

“Well, well, well.”

I froze.

That was not my friend’s voice.

I turned slowly, and there she was—Paige Bueckers herself, standing right next to our table, a knowing smirk on her face.

My stomach plummeted.

She was holding a couple of drinks, clearly on her way back to her team, but now, she was watching me like I was the most entertaining thing in the bar.

“You think I’m a menace?” she asked, tilting her head.

My friend, the traitor, grinned. “Oh, she definitely does.”

I buried my face in my hands. “I hate you.”

Paige chuckled, sliding onto the empty stool beside me. “I feel like I deserve an explanation.”

I peeked at her through my fingers. “You were not supposed to hear that.”

“Yeah, well, I did,” she said, shrugging. “And now I’m curious.”

My friend, having the time of her life, nudged me. “Go on, tell her.”

I groaned, taking a long sip of my drink. “I just said you’ve got a little… flirty menace energy.”

Paige grinned. “That’s cute. I like that.”

My brain short-circuited.

Paige leaned in slightly, her voice low. “So, tell me, was that just a game, or do you actually mean it?”

I swallowed. “That depends… are you gonna let me live after this conversation?”

Paige laughed, tapping her fingers against the bar. “That depends… are you gonna let me take you out sometime?”

I blinked. “Wait. What?”

She smirked. “You heard me.”

My friend gasped, gripping my arm. “She manifested this.”

Paige pulled out her phone, sliding it toward me. “Put your number in.”

I hesitated for half a second before typing it in, handing the phone back. Paige looked at the screen, then back at me, grinning. “Perfect.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “We’ve got a table with the team in the back. You two should come hang out.”

My friend and I exchanged looks before she nodded eagerly. “Absolutely.”

Hanging out with the team was insane.

Between the drinks, the jokes, and the endless teasing over what Paige overheard, I was convinced my soul had left my body from sheer embarrassment.

Then Ice cleared her throat. “Alright, we’ve been talking about it long enough.”

I raised a brow. “Talking about what?”

Jana grinned, standing up. “We’re clearing a table.”

My stomach flipped. “For what?”

Paige stretched her arms, smirking. “For a body shot.”

I nearly choked on my drink.

KK whistled. “Damn, Paige really wasted no time.”

I waved my hands. “Hold on—”

Ice and Jana were already moving glasses aside, wiping down the wooden table.

Paige grinned at me. “Well? You picked me, didn’t you?”

My face was on fire. “I was just getting drunk, then!”

Paige shrugged. “So? You said it with your chest. Now let me take my prize.”

The entire team was eating this up, cheering and hyping Paige up.

Paige grabbed my hand, tugging me forward. “C’mon, baby. Let’s make this game official.”

My brain completely shut off at the way she said baby.

My friend shoved me. “Oh my God, just do it.”

I groaned. “Y’all are ridiculous.”

Paige just winked. “And you love it.”

I climbed onto the table after taking my cropped Bueckers jersey of revealing my black spaghetti strapped lace bralette bra, my heart pounding as Paige let out a low whistle as she grabbed the salt and a lime slice.

I barely had time to process before she leaned down, her breath warm against the skin on my neck, near my ear. “You ready, ma?”

I nodded weakly.

She smirked, dragging her tongue across my collarbone before sprinkling salt over it. My entire body broke out in chills.

The room roared.

KK shouted, “Oh, this is legendary.”

Paige took the shot of tequila, licking the salt off my skin before biting into the lime, taking it off my body all while keeping direct eye contact.

I forgot how to breathe.

The bar erupted, the team hollering and laughing while Paige pulled back, grinning.

She wiped her lips, tilting her head. “Still think I’m just a menace, prettygirl?”

I swallowed hard. “You are so dangerous.”

Paige chuckled, pulling me up into her arms. “You love it.”

My brain was mush. “I might.”

She pressed a kiss to my cheek. “Then let’s see where this goes”

A fee mins later and a few more rounds Paige is whispering in my ear. “Let’s get out of here,” she said, her voice low and sultry, in my ear, pulling me back to reality. Without waiting for a response, she took my hand, leading me through the crowd and towards the bathroom at the back of the bar.

Once inside, the small space was dimly lit, and the scent of alcohol mixed with the faint smell of soap filled the air. Paige locked the door behind Us, and my heart raced more as I leaned against the cool tile wall, my pulse quickening with excitement.

“God, you're so pretty,” Paige murmured, her eyes dark with desire. I felt a flush of warmth spread through me as Paige stepped closer, our bodies almost touching. “Can I?” Paige asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her fingers brushing against my right thigh.

“Yes,” I breathed, my mind swirling with the effects of the alcohol and the intensity of Paige’s gaze. Paige knelt before me, her hands guiding my legs apart just enough for her to settle between them. The thrill of being in a bathroom stall, hidden away from the world, only fueled the fire.

As Paige’s fingers danced along my hot, sensitive skin, I felt both nervous and exhilarated. “You’re so soft,” Paige cooed, her touch igniting sparks of pleasure coursing through my body. “I want to make you feel good, baby.”

I closed my eyes, surrendering to the sensations as Paige’s fingers found their way beneath my nylon/leather mini pencil skirt. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of us in this secret moment. “Paige,” I gasped as she expertly teased me, the warmth of her breath sending shivers down my spine.

“Shh, pretty girl. Just let me take care of you,” Paige whispered, her voice dripping with affection and seduction, as she hook her fingers on my thin thong pulling it down swiftly. I stepped out if then only for her to stuff em in her back pocket, I could hardly think as I felt myself unraveling under Paige’s touch, 3 knuckles deep, thumb on my sensitive clit. She said cooing at my pussy, but holding eye contact with me.

The combination of alcohol and desire creating a heady mix that left me breathless.

But just as the pleasure began to mount, Paige pulled away, a mischievous grin on her face. “Let’s take this back to my dorm,” she suggested, her eyes sparkling with excitement, and without waiting for a response, she grabbed my hand and led me out of the bathroom, but not before making my lower only skirt covered lower body look decent.

Paige tapped Ice and let her know what what happening with her and I.

Ice giving us the smirk and nod of approval, even pushing us closer to the door of the bar.

The walk to Paige’s dorm felt like a dream, each step filled with anticipation. Once inside, Paige kick the door closed behind us. The dim light from the common room cast a soft glow, and I felt a rush of exhilaration as I took in the cozy space.

Paige turned to me, her gaze intense. “You trust me, right?” she asked, her voice low and sultry, as she led me to her room. I nodded, my heart racing as I watched Paige reach into her drawer and pull out a purple(lavender-ish) strap. The sight sent a thrill of excitement through me, and I swallowed hard, my body responding eagerly to the suggestion of what was to come.

“Good girl,” Paige purred, her eyes dark with desire. “Now, come here, pretty girl.” She beckoned me closer, her voice is smooth and coaxing, wrapping me into a trance.

As I stepped closer, Paige’s hands found my waist, pulling me in for a tender kiss. It was soft at first, a gentle exploration that quickly turned passionate as I melted against her. “You’re so beautiful, ma,” Paige murmured against myblips, showering me with pet names that sent delightful shivers coursing through my body.

With deliberate slowness, Paige guided me to the bed, our lips never breaking contact as they tumbled onto the soft sheets. “I want to make you feel amazing,” Paige whispered, her voice a husky promise that made my heart race.

“Yes please,” I breathed, my body aching for more. The alcohol had stripped away all of my inhibitions, leaving me vulnerable yet exhilarated, and I craved every bit of attention Paige was willing to give.

Paige took her time, running her hands over my body, teasing and exploring until I was a whimpering mess beneath her. “You’re my good girl, aren’t you?” Paige asked, her voice dripping with affection and desire. I nodded, a soft whimper escaping my lips as I felt the strap press against me.

“Tell me how you feel, baby,” Paige coaxed, her eyes locked onto mine, searching for reassurance and a connection that felt deeper than the physical.

“Full P, so full” I gasped, my breath hitching as Paige began to move, the sensation intense and overwhelming. “So good.”

“Just like that, mamas,” Paige encouraged, her voice a soothing balm against the waves of pleasure crashing over me. With each thrust, I felt myself spiraling, every sound, every touch amplifying the ecstasy building within her.

“Look at you, so beautiful,” Paige murmured, her hands gripping my hips as she guided our rhythm, the tension between Us palpable. “I love how you feel, baby. You’re mine tonight.”

“Fuckk, Pa-Paige so good,” I say holding in a moan. “Nah, ma let me hear them pretty lil moans.” I gasp letting out a moan when she slaps my clit lightly. Bucking my hips to meet the thrust of Paige's hips.

“Yes, so-fuckin good P.” I let out soft moans getting louder with each thrust. “Such a, pretty girl, with a pretty pussy.” I nod my head letting more whimpers fall from my mouth.

Paige could tell I was getting closer by the way my legs shook, the way my jaw is relaxed. My body shook, eyes rolling to the back of my head. “That's it mamas, cum on dick I think your can.” Clenching around the purple strap I let out an almost pornographic moan.

I could tell paige was getting close ad there thrust go sloppy, soon throwing her head back letting out the almost same moan I did.

“S..Shhit ma, did a good job for me. Yeah” Paige said after we rode out our high slowly pulling the strap of my pussy. “Mm, so good P.”

She carefully took the strap off, before walking to the bathroom and cleaning strap before coming back with a warm wet cloth. Gently either her and I holding eye contact she gently wiped me completely clean.

“Wow! That-that was-” I say, as Paige climbs in the bed with me and finishing my statement. “Amazing, it was amazing.”

“Yeah, Amazing.”

The first thing I noticed was warmth.

Not the kind that came from the sunlight peeking through the blinds or the heat of the comforter tangled around my legs—but the kind that came from another person.

Specifically, the 6’0” basketball menace currently wrapped around me like she had no plans of letting go.

I blinked, slowly adjusting to my surroundings. Paige’s dorm. Paige’s bed. Paige’s arm draped over my waist, her face buried in the crook of my neck.

Oh.

Last night came rushing back like a highlight reel: the game, the drinking, the body shot, Paige licking salt off my skin like it was her job—

I squeezed my eyes shut. Jesus Christ.

“You’re thinking really hard for someone who should just be enjoying the moment,” a raspy voice murmured against my shoulder.

I opened my eyes to find Paige peeking up at me, a lazy grin on her lips.

Her morning voice? Not fair.

I rolled onto my side, our faces inches apart. “You always this cuddly?”

Paige shrugged, fingers tracing absentminded circles on my hip. “Not really. Just with people I like.”

People she likes.

I swallowed, suddenly feeling like the air between us was heavier than before.

She must’ve noticed because her grin turned teasing. “What? You shy now? You didn’t seem shy when I was licking salt off you in front of half the team.”

I groaned, burying my face in her pillow. “I will actually pass away if you bring that up again.”

She laughed, tugging me closer. “Nah, I kinda like seeing you all flustered.”

I peeked up at her, biting my lip. “So… last night wasn’t just a drunken dare?”

Paige shook her head, her fingers brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Nah, baby. That was me finally getting what I wanted.”

My heart stuttered.

I was so not prepared for Paige Bueckers to be this smooth first thing in the morning.

Still, I had to keep things light before my brain short-circuited completely. “Damn, what do you mean?”

Paige smirked. “I had a feeling, from the firt mom i saw you come out of communications with Azzi, if we'rebeung for reak here.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Okay, menace, sure.. the paige bueckers had a crush on mee.”

She tapped her chin, pretending to think. “Actually, I believe the term you used was flirty menace, and yes I did-do have a crush on you. Like you're somethin else ya know.”

“Oh my God—” I say covering my face to try and hide my embarrassment.

Paige grinned, rolling fully on top of me, arms caging me in. “You’re really cute when you’re embarrassed, you know that?”

I stared up at her, my heart pounding. “You’re really cute when you’re not terrorizing me first thing in the morning.”

Paige chuckled, leaning in slightly, her nose brushing mine. “You love it.”

I exhaled, feeling her breath against my lips. “I might.”

Her eyes searched mine, something softer replacing the teasing glint she usually carried. “Good,” she murmured. “Because I meant what I said last night.”

I raised a brow. “Which part? You said a lot of reckless things.”

She rolled her eyes, but the smile on her lips didn’t fade. “The part where I said I wanted to see where this goes.”

I felt my stomach flip. “You serious?”

Paige nodded. “Yeah. I don’t do the whole ‘let’s pretend it didn’t happen’ thing. I like you. Always have. And if I’m being honest, I don’t really want to wake up without you in my bed. Now that ive had you.”

My brain was rapidly buffering.

Was Paige Bueckers—Paige Bueckers—asking me to be with her?

I swallowed, forcing myself to sound normal despite the emotional meltdown happening inside me. “So… if I were to ask you, what are we right now—”

Paige cut me off immediately. “We’re something special.”

My breath hitched.

She tilted her head, waiting. “Be my girl?”

I stared at her, every ounce of smartass energy draining from my body.

There was only one answer.

I reached up, running a hand through her messy blonde hair before pulling her down into a soft kiss.

Her lips curved against mine, like she already knew.

I smiled as I pulled back. “Yeah, Paige. I’ll be your girl.”

She kissed my temple with tenderness, before kissing all over my face giving my lips the final kiss.

---

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[vmlnrzmp4]

𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘥𝘢𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘥𝘰𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦.

requested by: @illyria2004

itoshi sae

"tadaima~" you say tiredly and quietly, hoping that your family is asleep. instead you were greeted with with little natsuki running up to you and hugging your waist before you could even enter the house, "you're awake princess," tho tired, you pick her up, showering her face with kissys to make it up for not being there for her for the day.

"welcome home," sae said nonchalantly—tho there was a hint of annoyance—as he takes natsuki from your tired self, "you're late."

"duty calls," you take your shoes off and enter the house. natsuki wiggles out of her papa's hold and runs to bring you a glass of cold water, "thank you, princess~"

"ma, play dolls with me!" she says enthusiastically but a yawn betrays her, "i waited the whole day for you!"

"tomorrow," sae says, "ma is tired now. and so are you," his words were firm but it was also an excuse that said: its my turn to spend time with your ma.

you knelt to her level, holding her chubby face in your hands as you promise that you'd play barbie dolls with her all day tomorrow. you pinky promise. and give her millions of kissys—ok not millions—all of them on her chubby little face. "off to bed now. go go go~"

she yawns again, getting a kissy from her papa as well before she runs off to her bed.

"you spoil her so much with your kissys."

"she deserves them," you say, getting up as you smile up at him which gets him so so annoyed because then that makes him hug you from behind, kissing your nape as he whispers:

"spoil me too."

itoshi rin

"oh no," a message dings up your phone, "i've to go," you say, getting up as you rush to grab your coat.

"...but you just got back." rin looks at you, pausing the horror movie that both him and sakura were watching on the couch.

"i know but," you hastily wear the coat, "duty calls."

both of them get up, rin almost glaring at you, "you always do this..." he mumbles, "always leaving us behind."

"itoshi rin, are you sulking?" you tease—trying to lighten up the mood but failing. sakura runs up to you, hugging your waist, telling you not to leave.

you crouch to her level, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "i'll be back before you know it," to make it up—you place so many kissys on her face, making her pout disappear as she bursts into little giggles.

you hear a small 'hmph' from your husband. standing up, you make your way towards your him, "riiiin~" you tilt your head, teasing him with a smile but he simply looks away. "i'll be back soon hmn?"

"you always say that."

"it's not that, rin. it's just—"

"i get it. you've to save lives." he sulks, "go."

you grin, placing a quick kissy on his cheek, making his cheeks go pink, "be home soon."

"i will," you pick up your bag, ruffling sakura's hair, "ma loves you."

"sakura loves you too ma!"

you give her a small smile before heading towards the door. you turn to your husband one last time. i love you. you whisper, making his cheeks heat up more as he runs a hand across his face.

isagi yoichi

"papa! look what i learnt!" little yuki says as she runs to her papa who was watching a soccer match on the tv—now attention fully on his princess.

"whatcha learnt, yuki?"

yuki wore your lab coat, along with fake stethoscope and a doctor's cap, "first, im gonna treat teddy chan's booboo."

"oh no," her papa says, turning the tv off, "what happened to teddy chan?"

"wound," she says, "while playing soccer. but is okie! 'm here!" yuki tends to teddy chan's booboo on his leg, "ma said to wrap it tight, but not too tight."

yoichi chuckles, "all done?"

"not yet!" yuki says, placing teddy chan down, "now i'll show you cpr."

"cpr?" yoichi says, amused, "you know cpr?"

"mhm!" yuki hums, checking teddy chan if he's breathing or not. not breathing, "i'll show you now..." yuki places both her hands on teddy chan's chest, pressing down with her strength, "one, two, three..."

after performing cpr, she pats teddy chan's head, "all done! he can play soccer now!"

yoichi claps, genuinely impressed, "wah~ the operation was successful."

"tadaima~"

"ma!" yuki calls excitedly as you immediately rush to her to shower her with kissys, kissing your husband's cheek too so he doesn't feel neglected.

"doctor yuki tend to teddy chan's booboo," he says, "and performed cpr."

"mhm!" yuki cheers, "im gonna be like ma when i grow up! and play soccer like papa!"

"perfect," yoichi picks up his daughter, "best or both worlds."

michael kaiser

"papa...papa wake up," anne's little arms shake her papa's sleeping form, desperatly trying to wake him up. michael stirs, his arm reaching out to the side of the bed which was unfortunately empty.

he rubs his eyes, turning to face his daughter, "what is it princess?"

"mama still working," she pouts, "kitchen table."

michael sits up, looking at anne whos bottom lip was jutted out, "'m worried, papa."

michael gets up, putting on a robe as he picks his daughter up, making way to the kitchen where he sees you working on the medical charts in the dim light.

"angel," he calls, making you look up, "come to bed."

"just 10 minutes more," you say, going back to the charts, "i need to finish this."

michael places anne down as she immediately runs to you, pulling on your sleeve, "i miss you ma. wanna eep with you and papa today please."

you exhale, flashing her a small smile, "count 10 minutes, ma promises she'll be there. me and papa will give you lots of cuddles."

"you've been saying that," michael interrupts, "it's never 10 minutes."

"michael, please understand—"

"10 minutes," he halts you, "and that's final. c'mon anne."

while you work, your daughter and husband wait in the living room.

"papa," anne calls, pointing at the clock, "10 minutes done," she says sleepily as he hums.

both of them make way to the kitchen, seeing you already asleep uncomfortablebly by the table, "y/n..." he runs his hand through his hair.

"papa," anne tugs on his robe, "ma fall asleep."

"ma works too much," he says, making his way towards you, "she's too hard on herself." he says, placing a kissy on your temple, he couldn't help it.

you lightly stir, "i fell asleep...on no..."

"no more of it angel," michael picks you up with ease, "no more work."

"mihya no—"

"mihya yes," he says carrying you.

"papa strong!" anne giggles as she follows, "ma promised cuddles!"

"that right, she did," he carries you to bed, "and im gonna make sure she keeps her promise."

you exhale, knowing you can't win against them.

michael carefully places you on the bed, anne crawling between the two of you as her papa pulls blanket over the three of you. michael places a kissy on his daughter's forehead as well as yours as the three of you cuddle.

"love you papa, love you ma."

"love you my princess, my angel."

taglist: @anuverse @luciddre @kongkhoi @illyria2004 [open]

[transfemme-shelterdog]

(I'm sorry this got way more venty than I expected, please feel free to delete if it's too much)

I keep seeing so much hate for trans men who are “clinging to their AGAB” (eg discussing how they are still experiencing misogyny) & it is so exhausting. Like I am treated like a woman by strangers, treated like a trender to those I come out to, & treated as a Miraculous Exception to the woes of mankind by my friends (one of whom claimed “you can’t trust men with long hair”, as I was sitting Right There, ponytail and all), but I can’t talk about any of it without being told I’m actually lucky, it could be so much worse (I Know This)....just call me a trender, you know? It’s not Less painful but at least I can clearly get where you stand. It’s to the point that, even among friends who have supported me through my worst, I genuinely feel a tiny bit guilty for talking about being trans as much as I do? & Kinda like....���do you guys actually hate me for real ” (which is insane I know they don't but also like!! I can’t tell Jack or shit anymore! I see people say “we need to put trans men down like rabid animals” & “We should give TMEs a reason to be oppressed” & “TMEs all want one thing & it's to hurt trans fems & trans women” from many kinds of trans people & even cis people now, & I'm like !! God can I just live? I just wanna live)

Not trusting men with long hair is a weird take. My husband has long hair and he's trustworthy as fuck. Don't know what her logic is there. Best she never goes to any metal shows from now on, as there's gonna be at least 90% of men there with long hair.

I'm sorry that people around you are shit. Trans guys don't deserve the crap that people throw at them

[alittlegiraffe]

Title: Stand By Me (Part 2)

The silence in the car was thick, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

It was the kind of silence that settled deep, like the weight of something you’d been carrying for too long finally starting to lift. You weren’t sure how to process it yet, but the difference was undeniable.

Marshall kept one hand on the wheel, the other still holding yours, rubbing slow, lazy circles against your skin. He wasn’t in a rush to make you talk. He never was. He just let you be, let you sit with whatever you were feeling without demanding anything in return.

And maybe that was why, when you finally found your voice, it came out so raw.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

His grip on your hand tightened. “Do what, baby?”

You swallowed, staring out the window. “Keep trying. Keep pretending like she’s gonna change.”

He let out a slow breath, like he’d been waiting for you to say it, but didn’t want to push you to. “You don’t have to.”

Tears burned at the back of your eyes. You didn’t know why this felt like grief, why it made your chest ache even though you knew it was the right thing.

“But she’s my mom,” you whispered, more to yourself than anything. “And she—”

“She don’t act like it,” Marshall cut in gently. “She don’t treat you the way a mom should.”

You exhaled shakily, your voice barely audible. “Then why do I feel so guilty?”

He sighed, his thumb brushing against the inside of your wrist. “’Cause she raised you to.”

Your breath hitched.

That was it. That was the truth you had been running from, the truth you had spent years trying to shove down.

She raised you to believe that loving her meant sacrificing yourself. That putting up with her cruelty was just the price of being her daughter.

Marshall saw the realization settle in your face, and his heart clenched. He wanted to take it from you, wanted to undo the years of hurt, but all he could do was what he had always done—be there.

“I don’t know how to stop,” you admitted, voice small. “I don’t know how to let it go.”

He pulled into the driveway, put the car in park, then turned to you fully, giving you his complete attention. “You ain’t gotta figure it out all at once. You just take it one step at a time.”

Your eyes met his, uncertain but searching. “What if she never changes? What if she never stops?”

His jaw ticked, and you knew the thought made him angry—angry for you, angry that someone who was supposed to love you unconditionally had done nothing but tear you down.

But when he spoke, his voice was steady. Sure.

“Then we stop lettin’ her hurt you.”

You blinked. “We?”

He reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah. We. You ain’t in this alone, baby.”

And just like that, the weight on your chest lightened, if only a little.

Because for the first time in your life, it didn’t feel like you had to hold it all on your own.

---

You didn’t cut your mother off overnight.

It wasn’t that easy. The guilt still crept in, still whispered in the back of your mind every time you ignored her calls or chose not to respond to her passive-aggressive texts.

But every time you started to doubt yourself, every time you hesitated—Marshall was there.

Sometimes, he just held your hand. Sometimes, he gently reminded you why you were doing this. And sometimes, when you were feeling particularly weak, he’d just wrap his arms around you and say, “You deserve better.”

And slowly, you started to believe him.

The real turning point came a few weeks later.

Your mother had called—again. You had ignored it—again. And instead of spiraling into guilt, you just leaned back against the couch, curled up against Marshall’s side, and let out a breath.

“That felt… good,” you admitted.

He smirked, kissing the top of your head. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

Then, quieter—“Thank you for standing up for me.”

His arm tightened around you, his voice low but firm. “Always.”

And you knew, with absolute certainty, that he meant it.

That no matter what happened, no matter how hard it got—

You wouldn’t have to face it alone.

[acute-crashout-jeyuso]

Across the Ropes.. a Zilla Fatu x Oc fanfic.

Chapter 8: Devotion..

As Zilla finished posting, he glanced over at Dahlia, who was folding the extra blanket and humming a soft tune to herself. The peaceful domesticity of the moment hit him hard, filling his chest with warmth. He had never been one for sentimental moments, but something about Dahlia — about them — changed that.

His phone buzzed almost immediately, and he chuckled to himself. “Well, it’s out there now,” he muttered under his breath, scrolling through the flood of notifications.

Dahlia turned her head. “Did you post it?” she asked, walking over to the bed and sitting down beside him.

Zilla handed her his phone, letting her see the post. Her eyes widened as she read the caption and saw the photo. “You’re really proud of us, huh?” she teased, though her voice was soft with emotion.

“Of course I am,” he said, leaning in to kiss her temple. “I mean, look at you, Dahlia. You’re giving me a whole ass family. How could I not let the world know?”

She smiled, her cheeks flushing. “You’re something else, Isayah. I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone make me feel like this.”

“You deserve it,” he said firmly. “And this is just the beginning.”

Suddenly, his phone buzzed again, and they both glanced at it. Zilla’s cousin, Jon, had commented: “Damn, Uce’! You out here doing the most! Congrats to you and D, big moves. Can’t wait to meet the little ones.👶👶👶🔥🔥🔥”

Not far behind was a comment from Jey: “About time you locked it down, Uce’. Proud of you, big dog. Y’all deserve this happiness. Now let’s plan that baby shower, ya heard?”

Dahlia laughed, leaning her head on Zilla’s shoulder. “Your family’s gonna go all out for this, huh?”

“Damn right they are,” Zilla said, scrolling through the growing list of comments. Rhea had even left a note: “Yessss, Dahlia looks like the queen she is! You better keep holding her down, Zilla. So happy for y’all. 🖤👶👶👶”

Dahlia smiled softly. “Your family’s pretty amazing.”

“They’re your family now too,” Zilla reminded her, pulling her closer. “And they’re gonna love these babies just as much as they love you.”

—

Jacob gripped his phone tightly, staring at the text from Jey on the screen: Hey Uce’, making sure you got the invite for the Villa, we got about two rooms left if you wanna come down.

Yeah, I got the invite, Jacob thought, his mind racing. He wasn’t sure if he even wanted to go anymore, not with everything on his mind. Zilla was caught up in something with Dahlia—something he wasn’t sure was the right move for his cousin. The post on Instagram had been the last straw, and the more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that Zilla was making a huge mistake.

Throwing your life away, Jacob muttered under his breath. For a girl you don’t even know that well?

And then there was Cora Jade. Jacob couldn’t shake the image of Zilla slipping out of her room that night, acting like nothing had happened, like it didn’t matter. But it did matter. Jacob wasn’t blind—he saw the signs, and it didn’t sit right with him. How could Zilla dive into something with Dahlia, someone he barely knew, when he was still acting shady with others?

I’m gonna talk to him, Jacob decided. He’s gotta see that this isn’t what he wants. I’m not just gonna stand by and watch him make this mistake.

He quickly dialed Zilla’s number, but the call went straight to voicemail. Jacob cursed under his breath and ended the call, his irritation growing. He wasn’t about to give up so easily. He grabbed his keys from the counter, slamming the door behind him as he left the gym. His car roared to life as he sped down the familiar streets toward Zilla’s apartment.

By the time Jacob reached the apartment complex, his patience was running thin. He parked quickly, grabbed his keys, and marched toward Zilla’s door, knocking sharply. His fist hit the door with an urgency that matched the frustration boiling inside him. He wasn’t here for small talk. He was here to set things straight.

The door creaked open, revealing a woman he didn’t recognize. She wore a tank top and shorts, her hair hidden under a bonnet, and a face mask covered most of her features.

Jacob frowned, not sure what to make of her. “Sorry, I think I might—”

Before he could finish his sentence, Sabrina cut him off, her tone brisk. “Zilla and Dahlia went to the waterfalls, Jacob.”

The door slammed shut in his face before he could say anything else. Jacob stood there, frozen for a moment, a surge of disbelief running through him. He stepped back, about to turn and leave, when the door opened again.

Sabrina peered through the crack, her eyes meeting his with a half-smile. “You’re cuter when you’re angry by the way,” she said, her voice teasing.

Jacob blinked, taken aback by the random compliment. It wasn’t what he expected—hell, it wasn’t even something he could process. He was just trying to get to Zilla, not deal with a pretty girl like herself making off-hand remarks.

Before he could respond, the door slammed shut again. Jacob shook his head, muttering under his breath. He turned and walked back to his car, the entire encounter feeling like a weird detour on the way to the real problem.

The waterfalls, he thought, starting the engine. I’m gonna make him see this for what it really is.

Jacob drove to Gerald D. Hines Waterfall Park, his thoughts clouded with concern. Zilla needed to hear the truth, whether he liked it or not. Jacob wasn’t going to let his cousin throw his life away—especially not over someone he barely knew.

By the time he arrived, the familiar sound of rushing water filled the air. Jacob parked his car and got out, a sense of determination in his chest. He wasn’t going to stop until Zilla saw things clearly.

This ends today, Jacob thought as he made his way toward the park, hoping to find Zilla and force him to face the reality of what he was about to lose.

Jacob slowed his steps as he approached the sound of Zilla’s voice, his thoughts still a whirlwind of confusion and frustration. The closer he got to the waterfall, the clearer the voices became. He could hear Zilla laughing, his deep tone filled with the same playful energy Jacob had known for years.

As Jacob rounded the corner, he stopped in his tracks.

Zilla was standing with Dahlia near the edge of the waterfall, the soft mist from the water catching the light in the air. They were taking selfies together, their faces pressed close as they smiled at the camera. It almost seemed like a perfect moment—a picture-perfect scene. But something about it didn’t sit right with Jacob. The image in front of him felt too… staged. Too perfect.

Dahlia giggled, her voice light and full of affection as she spoke. “I’m having such a great time with you, baby.”

Zilla’s smile grew wider, and without hesitation, he leaned down and kissed her. The kiss was tender, full of genuine affection, but to Jacob, it felt like a facade. He knew Zilla better than anyone, and something in the way he held Dahlia told him it wasn’t real. Zilla was lost in this whirlwind, letting himself fall into something he didn’t fully understand.

“You live in Houston all your life,” Zilla said, his voice rich with amusement, “and you’ve never been to the Waterfall park?”

Dahlia shrugged, playful in her response. “It’s touristy. That’s why.”

Zilla chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You gotta know when to come, like right now, at night. It’s the best time to see it.”

Dahlia smiled, her eyes softening as she looked up at him. “You treat me so well,” she said, her words wrapping around Zilla like a warm embrace.

Jacob’s stomach twisted as he watched them. This wasn’t the Zilla he knew—this wasn’t the guy who would laugh it off, crack jokes with his cousins, and take things slow. This was someone else, someone completely caught up in a whirlwind of affection and attention. Zilla had always been careful about who he gave his heart to, but now? It felt like he was rushing into something for the wrong reasons.

And then, Zilla did something that made Jacob’s heart sink even further. He lifted Dahlia up into his arms, as if everything was exactly as it should be. Jacob could hear Zilla’s voice rise in pure joy as he looked down at Dahlia.

“You have made me the happiest man!” Zilla said, his tone full of raw emotion.

It stung, hearing that, even though Jacob knew Zilla didn’t fully understand the weight of what he was saying. He was caught in the moment, wrapped up in the idea of a perfect love story. But Jacob saw the cracks in the surface. He knew his cousin better than anyone else, and something about this wasn’t right. Zilla wasn’t just in love—he was trying to escape something. He wasn’t thinking clearly, and Jacob knew it.

Jacob stood frozen, watching the entire scene unfold in front of him. Every part of him wanted to step in, to pull Zilla away and make him see what was happening. But the reality of it all hit him hard: Zilla wasn’t ready to listen. Not yet.

Jacob exhaled sharply, barely able to keep his emotions in check as he watched Zilla and Dahlia, completely oblivious to the world around them. The image was everything Zilla wanted in that moment, but Jacob knew better. He knew his cousin was slipping, and he was too blinded by his emotions to realize it.

I can’t let this happen, Jacob thought, his heart heavy with a sense of impending loss. I need to get through to him before it’s too late.

But as he stood there, unsure of what to say or do, he knew one thing for sure: Zilla wasn’t the same person anymore. And he wasn’t sure if he could save him from the path he was walking down.

Zilla tilted his head slightly, narrowing his eyes as he caught sight of his cousin standing off to the side, just outside of their little bubble by the waterfall. The recognition was instant, and the surprise in Zilla’s voice was evident as he called out, “Uce, is that you?”

Jacob froze for a moment, his heart racing. He’d been caught, and there was no way to play it cool now. He took a slow, measured step forward, trying to play it off. “Hey man, why you here?”

Zilla’s eyebrow arched, his eyes shifting from the relaxed affection he’d been showing Dahlia to a more questioning, almost defensive look. “Nah, Uce. Why are you here?” he asked, the tone of his voice shifting to one of mild suspicion. “You don’t do tourist spots.”

Neither do you, Jacob thought, a slight bitterness rising in his chest. But he held his ground and answered, his voice light, though his thoughts were far from it. “I was just in the neighborhood.”

Zilla raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “The Houston Galleria neighborhood?”

Jacob faltered for a moment, feeling the weight of Zilla’s question pressing on him. There’s no way out of this now, he thought, but his mind quickly scrambled to find a way to steer the conversation away from whatever Zilla had in mind. “What’s with all the questions?”

Before Zilla could respond, Dahlia stepped forward, her presence immediately softening the tension between the two men. She looked between them, a warm smile spreading across her face, though there was a trace of uncertainty in her eyes.

“I hope we can get on the right foot,” she said, her voice gentle yet sincere. “I know I haven’t been the best person to like.”

Jacob felt a lump form in his throat as she took a step closer and, before he could even react, she wrapped her arms around him in a hug. The warmth of her embrace surprised him, breaking down the walls he had put up since their first meeting. She felt so genuine, so kind—an overwhelming contrast to the storm of emotions that churned inside him.

As her arms tightened around him, Jacob found himself momentarily speechless, unsure how to respond. The hug, though brief, felt like a quiet plea for understanding, a chance to start over. The kindness in her actions made something inside Jacob shift. He realized then that it wasn’t just about Zilla anymore—it was about the people Zilla had brought into his life, including Dahlia, who was now trying to extend an olive branch.

Dahlia pulled away slightly, her smile a little softer now. “I really want us to try again, you know? Make things right.”

Jacob stood there for a beat, letting the weight of her words settle on him. It broke him to see such a beautiful and kind soul want to make things better with him—someone who’d only ever judged her from a distance, unaware of what had really been happening behind the scenes. And for a moment, he thought of everything he’d seen Zilla doing—what had been going on when he wasn’t looking. But as his eyes fell on Dahlia again, the urge to protect her, to shield her from all of it, was too strong.

He wrapped his arms around her in return, letting the hug be a silent pact of sorts—one that spoke volumes more than words ever could. “Yeah, we could try this whole thing again,” Jacob said, his voice soft but steady, though inside, a storm still raged.

The reality was hard to ignore—Jacob still felt like something was off, but Dahlia deserved better than the harsh judgments he’d been carrying around. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her the truth, not yet. Not when Zilla was so deeply lost in it all.

Jacob pulled back from the hug, looking at Zilla and then back at Dahlia. He wasn’t sure how to navigate the mess they’d all gotten themselves into, but for now, he was trying to put the pieces back together, even if it meant biting his tongue for the time being.

Zilla watched the interaction from the side, his arms folded across his chest, his expression unreadable. Jacob knew that Zilla wasn’t blind to what was happening, and there was a quiet understanding in his eyes.

“Yeah, we’ll work on it,” Jacob muttered, though a part of him still felt like he was stepping into something far too complicated for him to fully grasp. And though he’d agreed to give this “new start” a chance, a part of him still couldn’t shake the feeling that Zilla had made a mistake that would affect them all.

As the tension settled between them, Jacob exhaled slowly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. The sound of the waterfall echoed behind them, the night air crisp against his skin. Zilla kept his arm draped around Dahlia’s waist, holding her close like he wasn’t afraid to show the world she was his.

“So,” Jacob started, looking between them, forcing a smirk, “you two just out here living the tourist life now?”

Dahlia laughed softly, leaning into Zilla. “Well, someone insisted I needed to experience my own city properly.”

Zilla grinned. “She lived here her whole life and never been out here at night, Uce. Had to fix that.”

Jacob nodded, watching the way Dahlia looked up at Zilla with nothing but admiration. It made his stomach twist. The way she smiled at him, the way she trusted him—it was almost enough to make Jacob forget why he’d come here in the first place. Almost.

“You staying at the villa, right?” Zilla asked, changing the subject. “Jey got a room for you.”

Jacob hesitated, then shrugged. “Yeah, guess I’ll pull up.”

“Good,” Zilla said, his voice easy, like nothing was wrong. Like he hadn’t been sneaking around behind Dahlia’s back.

Jacob wanted to confront him so bad, but Dahlia’s presence made it impossible. He had a feeling she didn’t know about Cora. She seemed too secure, too happy. There wasn’t an ounce of suspicion in her face. If she knew what Zilla was really doing, she wouldn’t be looking at him like that.

Jacob cleared his throat, shifting his stance. “Well, don’t let me interrupt y’all little date night,” he said, jerking his thumb toward the path leading back to his parked car. “I’ma head out.”

“You sure?” Dahlia asked. “You could hang with us if you want.”

Jacob shook his head. “Nah, I’m good.”

Zilla smirked. “You just mad ‘cause I caught you lurking.”

Jacob rolled his eyes. “Man, whatever.” He looked at Dahlia. “It was nice seeing you again.”

“You too,” she said genuinely.

Jacob turned, walking away from them, but his mind was racing.

This wasn’t over.

Zilla was playing with fire, and Jacob knew damn well that flames like that? They always burned down everything in their path.

Jacob drove away from the waterfall park, gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary. His mind was clouded with frustration, his chest heavy with conflict.

What the hell are you doing, Isayah?

He could still see Dahlia’s smile in his head, the way she had hugged him like she actually wanted a fresh start. Like she believed he was someone worth having in her life. It made him sick to his stomach because she had no idea.

She doesn’t know what you did, Jacob thought bitterly. She doesn’t know you were just in Cora Jade’s bed.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head.

Jacob had grown up watching men in his family screw up good things over stupid shit. He had seen how it always started—little secrets, harmless lies, an affair dismissed as a one-time mistake. Then, before they knew it, they had destroyed something real, something that could’ve lasted a lifetime.

And now Zilla was walking that same damn path.

Jacob pulled up to his home, cutting the engine and just sitting in the silence of his car.

Zilla had never been this reckless before. Yeah, he’d had his fun, but he wasn’t stupid. At least, that’s what Jacob had thought. But here he was, about to start a family with a woman he clearly loved, yet still out here playing games like he was single.

The worst part? He could’ve told Dahlia tonight. He should’ve. But when she hugged him, when she looked at him with kindness instead of wariness, something in Jacob broke. He didn’t have it in him to ruin her world. Not yet.

But it’s only a matter of time before Zilla does it himself.

Jacob exhaled, unlocking his phone and pulling up Zilla’s contact.

Jacob: We need to talk. Now.

He stared at the message for a moment before pressing send.

He wasn’t letting this go. Not until Zilla understood exactly what he was about to lose.

—

Zilla and Dahlia walked hand in hand back to his Camaro, the cool night air wrapping around them as the waterfall’s gentle roar faded behind them. Zilla felt at ease—Dahlia’s warmth beside him, her laughter still lingering in his ears. It was moments like this that made him forget everything else.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, he pulled out his phone to check the time when a notification popped up.

Jacob: We need to talk. Now.

Zilla sighed and locked his phone without responding. Whatever Jacob wanted to say could wait. He wasn’t about to let anything kill his mood, not when tonight had been damn near perfect.

He glanced over at Dahlia, who was adjusting her seatbelt. “You ready to go home, baby?”

She nodded, giving him a tired but content smile. “Yeah, tonight was amazing.”

Zilla smirked as he started the car. “That’s ‘cause you were with me.”

Dahlia rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. She leaned her head back against the seat as they pulled out of the parking lot, the streetlights casting fleeting glows across her face.

The drive back to Sabrina’s apartment complex was quiet, filled only with the low hum of the radio and the occasional shared glance between them. When they finally arrived, Zilla parked and turned off the engine, stretching his arms. Dahlia yawned as she unbuckled her seatbelt. The two exited the car and they went up to Sabrina’s apartment, Dahlia unlocked the door and they stepped in, once they made it to the room, Dahlia smelled herself and said, “I’m gonna shower. I feel all sticky from the humidity.”

Zilla smirked, watching her as she grabbed clothes from her dresser. “Need some help?”

Dahlia shot him a playful glare. “You’re such a menace.”

He laughed as she disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of the water starting up a moment later. The second she was out of sight, Zilla pulled out his phone, unlocking it to finally answer Jacob’s text.

Zilla: What’s up?

He leaned back against the bed, staring at the screen, waiting for the three dots to appear. He already had a feeling what this was about.

Jacob: Don’t play dumb, Uce. You know what’s up.

Zilla sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. He knew this was coming the moment Jacob showed up at the waterfall park.

Zilla: If this is about Dahlia, I don’t wanna hear it.

Jacob: Nah, it’s about you. You’re making a mistake.

Zilla: A mistake by being with the girl I love?

Jacob: A mistake by locking yourself down over a girl you barely know. A girl you’re out here playing house with while you were just creeping out of Cora’s room a few days ago.

Zilla clenched his jaw, his grip on the phone tightening. He stared at the message, his heart pounding as he read it over again. He thought Jacob wasn’t gonna say anything. He thought he let it go.

Zilla: That was a mistake. It meant nothing. I didn’t even fuck her…

Jacob: But she doesn’t know, does she?

Zilla exhaled sharply, feeling the weight of those words. No, Dahlia didn’t know. And she never would, because it wasn’t worth ruining what they had over a dumb decision.

Zilla: I’m not about to mess things up with Dahlia. She’s the best thing to happen to me.

Jacob: Then why are you lying to her?

Zilla hesitated. He knew Jacob wasn’t saying this to be an asshole—he was looking out for him. But that didn’t make it any less frustrating.

Zilla: Because I already messed up once. And I’m not gonna lose her over something that don’t mean shit.

Jacob didn’t reply right away, and Zilla could picture him shaking his head in disappointment. A part of him hated that, but another part didn’t care. He made his decision.

Jacob: You better pray she never finds out.

Zilla stared at the message, his stomach twisting.

Zilla: She won’t.

Before Jacob could say anything else, the bathroom door opened, and Dahlia stepped out, her damp hair falling around her shoulders. She smiled at him, completely unaware of the storm inside his head.

Zilla locked his phone and smiled back. “Feel better, baby?”

She nodded, climbing into bed beside him. “Much better.”

Zilla wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. No matter what Jacob said, he wasn’t gonna let anything ruin what he had with her. He wouldn’t let his past mistakes take this away from him.

Even if it meant keeping secrets.

—

The next day, Zilla and Dahlia had driven all over the greater Houston area, exploring different neighborhoods. They checked out townhomes and apartments in Spring, Pasadena, Kingwood, and even Katy, but nothing truly felt right. At first, Dahlia had focused on affordable options, but Zilla had other plans.

It wasn’t until they pulled into Sugar Land that Zilla finally found what he was looking for—a two-story, all-brick house that instantly caught his attention. Dahlia stared at it in awe, her hands tightening on her seatbelt as she took in the massive home.

“Isayah… this is out of my price range,” she whispered, still processing the sight of it.

Zilla shifted the Camaro into park and glanced at her. “That’s because you’re not paying for it—I am,” he said, as if it were that simple. “Camaro’s paid off, and I don’t even spend my money like that. I ain’t hurting for it, so why not?”

Dahlia hesitated. “But—”

“But nothing, baby. Just trust me, alright?” He leaned over and kissed her temple before getting out of the car.

Waiting for them outside was a realtor, dressed sharply in a blazer and slacks, her polished smile welcoming them as they approached.

“Mr. Fatu, how are you?” she greeted warmly before her gaze flickered to Dahlia. “I assume this is your wife?”

Dahlia’s face heated instantly. She opened her mouth to correct her, but Zilla beat her to it.

“Future wife, actually,” he said smoothly, slipping an arm around Dahlia’s waist. “Shall we go inside?”

The realtor nodded. “Of course, follow me.”

As they stepped into the house, the woman began her tour, leading them through the spacious interior.

“Large living area with picture windows and a cozy fireplace,” she started, gesturing toward the open-concept space. “The island kitchen features stainless steel appliances, a pro-style cooktop, a wine fridge, and an attached breakfast area with a built-in desk.”

Dahlia’s jaw nearly dropped at the sight of the kitchen. “Oh my god, Isayah…”

The realtor continued, oblivious to Dahlia’s reaction. “The primary bedroom is expansive, complete with a sitting area and ensuite featuring a jetted tub, a separate shower, two vanities, and a large walk-in closet.”

Zilla gave Dahlia a knowing look. “Sounds perfect, huh?”

She shook her head, overwhelmed. “It sounds expensive.”

He just grinned. “You mean baller..”

The realtor led them upstairs, pointing out the spacious secondary bedrooms and a massive game room. “There’s also a finished flex space that can serve as a playroom, media room, office, or even a sixth bedroom,” she explained.

But it wasn’t until they stepped into the backyard that Dahlia truly fell in love.

“Lovely backyard with a sparkling pool, an outdoor kitchen and dining area with a pergola, plus plenty of green space,” the realtor detailed. “There’s also a two-car garage and a separate man cave or workspace addition off the garage.”

Dahlia turned to Zilla, eyes wide with disbelief. “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?”

He slid his hands into his pockets, nodding. “Dead serious.”

She glanced around again, her heart racing. “Isayah… we’re really doing this?”

Zilla reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together. “Yeah, baby,” he murmured, squeezing gently. “We’re really doing this.”

The realtor offered them a pleasant smile as they stood in the backyard, the warm Texas breeze carrying the scent of fresh-cut grass. “Since you’re here today, I should mention that we’re running a look-and-lease special,” she said, her voice laced with professionalism. “So far, all the other families have declined it, but I figured I’d let you both know in case you’re interested.”

Zilla tilted his head slightly. “What’s the deal?”

The realtor clasped her hands together. “If you submit your applications today and get approved by Monday, your first month’s rent will be waived. Additionally, if you opt for a 24-month lease, you’ll receive a $250 gift card to a store of your choosing and the option to convert to a rent-to-own agreement.”

Dahlia’s eyes widened, and she glanced at Zilla. “That’s actually… a really good deal,” she admitted.

Zilla rubbed his chin thoughtfully, taking in the house once more. He had already made up his mind about securing a home for them, but the added incentives only made the decision easier.

“Alright,” he said finally, nodding. “Send over the applications. We’ll get them done tonight.”

The realtor’s smile widened. “Fantastic. I’ll email them to you as soon as we’re done here. If you have any questions, just reach out.”

Dahlia still looked slightly dazed, like she couldn’t believe what was happening. As they walked back toward the Camaro, she tugged on Zilla’s hand, making him slow down. “Are you sure about this?” she asked softly. “This is a huge step.”

Zilla stopped, turning to face her. “D, I told you—I’m all in,” he said firmly. “This ain’t just about me anymore. It’s about you. About the babies. About building something real.”

She bit her lip, searching his face for any hesitation. But all she saw was certainty. Love. Commitment. Devotion.

A slow smile spread across her lips, and she nodded. “Okay, let’s do it.”

Zilla grinned and kissed her forehead. “That’s my girl... alright, now how about some food? Since I’ve never lived in Sugar Land, let’s go explore.”

Dahlia placed a hand on her stomach and hummed in thought before her eyes lit up. “Actually… the babies are craving a French delicacy!”

Zilla let out a deep laugh, shaking his head. “French food? Girl, where the hell we gonna find French food around here?”

Dahlia smirked, already prepared for that reaction. “I went to lunch with Dr. Patel and Sabrina a while back. There’s a place called La Madeleine. It’s not super fancy, but they have amazing pastries and French dishes.”

Zilla arched an eyebrow. “So you telling me these babies already got expensive-ass taste?”

Dahlia giggled. “Blame your genes, big spender.”

Zilla chuckled, unlocking the Camaro. “Alright, let’s go get you and my little money drainers some fancy-ass food.”

They hopped in the car, Dahlia excitedly looking up the directions while Zilla pulled out of the driveway, already envisioning their future in Sugar Land.

After dinner, they decided to head home and as they pulled into the parking lot of Sabrina’s apartment complex, Zilla held onto Dahlia’s hand, his thumb lazily tracing circles against her skin. His voice was lower, more thoughtful than before.

“I think God put you in my life for a reason,” he repeated, glancing at her before shifting the car into park.

Dahlia tilted her head, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten. “Oh yeah? And what reason is that?”

Zilla smirked, but there was something deeper in his expression, something unspoken. “I don’t know yet… but I feel it. Like, before you, I was just moving through life, not thinking about shit. Now, I got plans. A future. Something to build, not just for me, but for us.”

Dahlia’s heart clenched. The way he looked at her, like she was his whole world, made her chest ache in the best way possible. She squeezed his hand, smiling softly. “Isayah… you’ve always had a future. You didn’t need me for that.”

“Nah,” Zilla said, shaking his head. “I needed you to see it.”

Dahlia bit her lip, warmth flooding through her. Before she could respond, Zilla leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to her lips. She melted into him for a moment before pulling back, her breath slightly uneven.

“Let’s get inside,” she whispered.

Zilla huffed dramatically. “So that’s a no to—”

Dahlia laughed, smacking his arm playfully before stepping out of the car. “Come on, lover boy. Time to cuddle and sleep.”

Zilla groaned but followed her, wrapping an arm around her waist as they made their way up to the apartment. As much as he wanted more, just having Dahlia by his side was enough. For now.

Sabrina watched as Dahlia walked into the apartment with Zilla by her side, her eyes instantly narrowing. She was sitting on the couch, munching on a Hershey’s cookies and cream bar, but the sight of the couple caught her attention more than the snack. Dahlia smiled at Zilla and noticed the momentary tension in Sabrina’s gaze.

“Dahlia,” Sabrina called out, her voice light but with a hint of concern. “Where you been?”

Dahlia glanced at Zilla before answering, still smiling with a sense of excitement. “Well, we found a house. It’s so beautiful, Brina!”

Sabrina’s expression softened for a second, but then she stood up abruptly, her phone in her hand. “Can I talk to you for a sec? In private?”

Dahlia, unsure of the sudden seriousness, nodded. “Sure, what’s up?”

As Sabrina led her down the hallway to the room, Zilla barely glanced up, too engrossed in pulling out his phone to care about the shift in tone. He made his way to Dahlia’s room and sat down on her bed, his thumb scrolling through his messages while the muffled sounds of conversation between the two women floated down the hallway.

Dahlia followed Sabrina into the room, and before she could ask what was going on, Sabrina spoke, her voice more tense than usual. “Is this the bitch Zilla admitted to dancing with?”

Dahlia’s brow furrowed, her confusion growing. “What? Who?”

Sabrina handed her the phone, and Dahlia looked down at the screen. The profile picture of Cora Jade filled the display, and a sudden sense of unease crawled up her spine.

“This girl,” Sabrina added, her voice sharp. “Is this the one he danced with, Dahlia?”

Dahlia squinted at the screen, her stomach twisting. “Yeah, but what’s that matter? It’s just a dance. I’m not worried about it.”

Sabrina crossed her arms, a pointed look on her face. “Look at what she commented on Zilla’s IG post about the babies.”

Dahlia scrolled down on the post, her pulse quickening as she saw the comment:

@wwenxtcorajade: 😏

Dahlia’s heart dropped into her stomach as she stared at the comment. Her mind started racing. It wasn’t just any comment—it felt loaded.

She handed the phone back to Sabrina, trying to shake off the discomfort she felt. “What’s this supposed to mean?”

Sabrina didn’t look reassured, her expression stern as she looked at Dahlia. “I don’t know, but you should be careful. Actions speak louder than words.”

Dahlia stared at the phone, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. “Brina, I don’t think he’d ever do anything like that… He’s with me, and we’re… we’re good, okay?”

Sabrina sighed, sitting on the bed and looking at Dahlia intently. “I just don’t want you to get hurt, okay? I’m your friend, and I’m looking out for you.”

Dahlia smiled faintly, appreciating the concern but feeling a mix of confusion and frustration inside. She wanted to believe Zilla was genuine, but the doubt was starting to creep in.

“I know, and I appreciate you, Brina.” Dahlia sat down next to her, her eyes not leaving the phone. “But I trust him. I really do.”

Sabrina didn’t say anything, but her gaze softened. “Just be careful, Dahlia. That’s all I’m saying.”

Dahlia nodded slowly, trying to push the thoughts out of her head as she tried to shake the weight of what she’d seen. She didn’t want to doubt Zilla, but as she walked back to her room, her heart felt a little heavier than before.

Dahlia opened the door to her room and found Zilla lounging on the bed, laughing to himself as he scrolled through TikTok. His eyes lit up as he caught something funny, his deep chuckle filling the air. Dahlia couldn’t help but smile, even though her mind was clouded with uncertainty.

“Hey, baby,” she said softly, stepping into the room.

Zilla looked up, still laughing. “Babe, you have to see this!” He held out his phone, showing her a video of a dog knocking over its owner. Dahlia forced a small smile as she sat down beside him, trying to keep her focus on the lighthearted moment, but the nagging feeling in her chest wouldn’t let her fully relax.

“Watch this next one,” Zilla said, chuckling again. Dahlia watched the video, but her mind was elsewhere. She couldn’t shake the lingering unease about the comment from Cora.

Finally, she took a deep breath. “I have to ask you something.”

Zilla tilted his head, sensing the change in her tone. He paused his scrolling and turned to face her, a hint of concern in his eyes. “Go ahead, babe,” he said, his voice soft but serious.

Dahlia hesitated for a moment, gathering her thoughts before asking the question that had been weighing on her. “Are you… still in touch with Cora?”

Zilla’s face stiffened instantly, his eyes narrowing just slightly. For a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath. He didn’t answer immediately, and Dahlia felt her heart skip a beat.

“No,” Zilla said, his voice steady but with a trace of defensiveness. “Why would you say that?”

Dahlia swallowed hard, trying to keep her emotions in check. She could feel the tension rising between them. “Well, because she commented on your post,” she said.

Zilla’s expression shifted, a flash of disbelief crossing his face. “Nah, babe, for real. I don’t even talk to her like that.” He leaned forward, looking at Dahlia with sincerity in his eyes. “If it helps you, I’ll block her right now.”

Before Dahlia could respond, Zilla didn’t wait. He quickly swiped through his phone, finding Cora’s profile, and without another word, he blocked her.

Dahlia stared at him, surprised by how quickly he acted. Her heart softened a little, but doubt still lingered in the back of her mind. “Okay,” she said softly, her voice still shaky. “I guess I just needed to know.”

Zilla set the phone down and reached out to gently touch her hand. “I get it, babe. I really do. I’m not about that life anymore. You’re the one I want.” He gave her a reassuring smile, trying to ease the tension between them.

Dahlia looked at him, her heart torn between relief and lingering doubt. She wanted to trust him, but she couldn’t ignore the doubts that had been building inside her. “I just… I don’t want to feel like I’m second choice,” she said, her voice showing self esteem that couldn’t help but creep in.

Zilla squeezed her hand, his gaze softening. “You’re not second to anyone, Dahlia. You’re everything to me. I’m done with all that other stuff. It’s just you and me, okay?”

Dahlia nodded slowly, her heart still conflicted but her trust in him beginning to rebuild. She wanted to believe him, needed to believe him. But the journey ahead wasn’t going to be easy.

“Okay,” she whispered, leaning her head against his shoulder as they sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the conversation still hanging in the air, but for now, the space between them felt a little more secure.

After their talk, and once they both showered and settled into bed, the room fell into an uneasy silence. Dahlia was already asleep, her breathing slow and steady, completely at peace. Zilla, on the other hand, found himself wide awake, tossing and turning under the sheets. Every time he closed his eyes, his mind raced—thoughts of the conversation with Dahlia, the unresolved feelings, and the lingering sense of guilt that gnawed at him.

He groaned in frustration, tossing over onto his side, trying to find a comfortable position. But no matter how hard he tried, sleep wouldn’t come. His body felt restless, and the thoughts continued to spiral in his mind.

He finally threw the covers off, getting up from the bed. He stood there for a moment, watching Dahlia sleep, the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest somehow calming, yet only amplifying his own internal chaos. Zilla ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply, trying to shake off the suffocating feeling.

Walking toward the bathroom, he flicked on the light and stared at himself in the mirror. His reflection was tired—eyes bloodshot, a stubble growing on his jawline. He looked worn down, drained. His body, as if reacting to his emotional unrest, seemed to ache for something more—something he used to turn to when everything else felt out of control.

The medicine cabinet door creaked as he opened it, his fingers grazing the edges until they landed on the bottle of Advil PM. He hesitated for a second, but then the temptation to dull the noise in his mind was too great. He quickly took two pills, dry swallowing them with a sigh. The cold medicine burned slightly as it went down, but it didn’t matter. He was just looking for a way to escape the constant barrage of thoughts.

Zilla stared at himself in the mirror, his reflection now staring back at him with a mixture of frustration and resignation. His body was craving the other drug—cocaine, the one that numbed everything, the one that allowed him to feel nothing at all.

He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply, trying to steady himself. “Get it together, Isayah,” he muttered under his breath, forcing himself to focus. He couldn’t keep running from his demons, but he also couldn’t let them take over.

He finally turned off the light and walked back to the room. The pills were starting to take effect, and his limbs felt heavier, like the weight of the world was finally starting to fade just a little. Zilla crawled back into bed, careful not to disturb Dahlia. He looked at her, her face soft and peaceful, and for a moment, he allowed himself to feel something other than the chaos swirling in his mind—he felt gratitude, a flicker of devotion that maybe, just maybe, he could get out of this darkness.

But as he closed his eyes and let the sleepiness begin to pull him under, a part of him still wondered how long he could keep feeling everything—the pressure of his past, the mistakes, the drug cravings, the unwelcome actions with Cora—and still hold onto the fragile peace he was trying to build with Dahlia.

[lagaans]

i love when women in bollywood movies call out their shit husbands and then get the deserved apology

[missszena]

Maybe this is my can't sleep tired brain going on tangents again but I'm gonna say it anyway

It always bugs me how people who ruthlessly bash the Emperor are always on about how its such a big manipulative liar at all times so none of what it shows you is genuine and it shouldnt be believed ever but the SECOND it shows anything negative suddenly its a 100% honest character who is telling the absolute truth and you should believe what it shows you at face value

Like which is it? Is it a liar or is it being honest? Or maybe some of yall are trying to make a big deal about morals (even though yall give Astarion a pass despite him doing shit like not approving of helping the Tieflings survive even though there are literal children in the refugee group) instead of just saying you personally didn't vibe with a character?

[meepcartier-blog]

Is it really the craziest thing in the world if Gwen was/is dating Hobie? (And get your minds out the gutter for a second y’all 🙄)

I know Miles and Gwen have their lil boop boop or whatever but Gwen was literally gushing over Hobie to Miles. Pav knows something

I think the jealousy thing with Miles and Gwen is just because they’ve both been in limerence for 2 years. Yearning for what could’ve been or in love with the idea.

That’s dead now since Gwen betrayed him. 🤷🏾‍♀️

Hobie obviously don’t fuck with Miguel but he clearly stays around for Gwen and friends. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had a crush on him and would constantly go over his place and feel comfortable enough to leave her things. Two years is a long time and a couple dozen missions is ALOT of missions.

Why do people insist on big-broing Hobie? That’s her man and they go together real bad. He’s clearly attractive in looks and personality. They said it in the art book: “ he’s pretty deep-cut and fascinating—older boy who is pretty easy for most girls to have a crush on”.

Gwen is a sag woman with a roster🔐 don’t be a hater 🤨

My girls know. We don’t just leave things with stinky dopey jupiter niggas for no reason unless we LIKE THEM.

#ellomerants

[books4evermorr]

I genuinely think this is an anagram that she might have seen somewhere near her and took it as her name (don’t talk to me I am sobbing)

Cause like it’s Project Apple yk? So it could be : Apple N___ 1-A , like successful experiment 1-A but she mistook it as IA

[ayrennaranaaldmeri]

welp since some of those shitty leaks turned out to be true, those rook's rest leaks are going to end up being true and from the very bottom of my heart i wish c*ndal a very never get work adapting anything again i hope by the end of this your reputation is worse than benioff's and weiss's because it's all you deserve.

[carefulfears]

what do you consider the heart of californication? like really carries through the series & makes it compelling

thank you for this question, i really love it. to me, it's a number of things, starting with that the show cares deeply about hank and takes him seriously in a way that the culture doesn't. in a way, yes, he's their dog and pony show with the funny one-liners and the salacious pull. but the arc of the series is unequivocally aligned with him and his desires and his needs and his values.

hank wants to be with his family, wants to be better for them, wants to not let them down- and the show needs him to fail at all of those things. for the dog and pony of it all, for their viewership and for their thesis and for the food in their mouths, but it simultaneously feels bad that he is failing. simultaneously knows that this isn't what he wants, and that it's sad. and it can be as simple as a dream sequence or a look or a quiet final scene, but every single episode is ultimately going to remind you that everything you're laughing at is a loss.

which, like i said at the top, speaks to a level of respect that the show had for the character that is just gone in discussions of the series. they take the time to recognize that he is missing something. he is losing something and he is without everything that means anything to him, this is the cost. equally important, duchovny respects that character and understands the same.

i was listening to an interview last night (trish you heard this) where he was speaking with some podcast dudebros and one of the hosts said that he always wanted to be just like hank moody, and then he made some "bad decisions" and got there, and he doesn't like it. and duchovny said that every time people come up to him saying "i'm just like hank moody," he says "i'm sorry."

men watch and they want to be just like hank moody and women watch and they want to fuck hank moody so bad, and all of you miss what the source comprehends: that it's an irreparable deficit.

other than that, i feel like what roots that show is that it really isn't all that cynical. not in the way that it could be. and the show believes in hank.

there is a lot of kindness and hope (often false hope) that runs underneath most every relationship and interaction and dynamic in the series and i really really appreciate that about it. it's like in the pilot when hank is being mean and he wants marcy to yell at him and she just says "go home, honey. sleep it off. tomorrow's another day."

there's always a little bit of understanding and grace amongst the crazies and i think there's something really special about that

[idiosyncraticrednebula]

I will never forget that article from a woman who compared looking after her child to being straight up being r*ped. What is wrong with some people?

[tvrningout-a]

new pinned post image hehe <3 now everything feels cohesive and my brain feels much more at ease looking at my blog :' ) i've also!! edited my muse pages, so the current primary muses are chiyo, rin, cyrillo, bronwyn, and yuzu. my other muses have been distributed to the secondary and tertiary lists. and i've added a note to my primary list that specifies chiyo as my main muse as she's the loudest out of everyone these days!

[violentlydone]

im so emo about shelby. the wilds gave us such a good representation of what growing up religious and gay is like. how they teach you that jesus is love but jesus wouldn't love you. what growing up as a girly girl and realizing you're gay is like. the yearning for your best friend, blurring the line between friendship and love and not knowing how to deal with a lesbian situationship you basically created in your head. how cruel you can be when you desire so loudly it reflects in your acts and yet refuse to act on that desire.

[alteredphoenix]

So this is how the preamble in the final round of the Blaze entrance exam went down in Celia’s first episode, right

[tonycries]

Something Stupid - G.S.

Synopsis. Five times the strongest would rather díe than tell you he loves you, and the one time he almost does. Almost.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, friends-to-lóvers, canon fix-it, PINING, dry-húmping, face-sítting (fem receiving), creampíe, overstím, PÚSSYDRUNK GOJO, ríding him until he whínes, no smút until they’re adults obvs, slight ángst, manga spoilers, found family, THE HAPPY ENDING WE DESERVE, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 9.6k

A/N. Tumby lemme post this pwease? What canon? This is the only canon I know.

“Catch me if you-”

Sixteen-year-old Gojo Satoru doesn’t have the privilege of finishing his sentence - hell, he doesn’t even have the privilege of standing, apparently.

Because in the blink of an eye, his back is hitting the soft grass of Jujutsu Tech, followed very shortly by a bewildered you. Foreheads knocking together, your hands grabbing at his broad shoulders, his own wrapping around your waist for some sense of stability.

Years later, Gojo tells everyone that would listen - and anyone that won’t - that life became just a bit brighter ever since you crashed into his life that day - literally. 

But right now, he’s opening his mouth to spit an irritated, “Watch it!”

It’s the first words you ever say to him, a shrill - almost hysterical - “Huh? No, you watch it-”

“Nuh uh, you-” Head spinning, shades skewed, it takes Gojo a few seconds to screw his bleary eyes open to the sudden newcomer straddled on top of him. And a few more to register that no, he wasn’t in heaven and hey, that uniform looks familiar. And, unfortunately, not even a split-second longer to breathe out something stupid, “I…I think I love y-”

“You stupid, moronic- wait what?”

The next few words out of his mouth are just as bad as the last ones, if not worse. Because yes he knows - for once in his life - that maybe he should just stop talking. He knows that even a moment longer with you is gonna turn his mind into more of a melty, honeyed mess than Six Eyes ever could. 

Which is exactly what he blames when jumbling out a garbled, “Dinner tomorrow?” Wincing, Gojo swallows them back almost as quickly as he wished he was swallowed up by Geto’s rainbow dragon instead. 

To your credit, you look a lot less bumbling than the strongest currently pinned underneath you. That look of annoyance on your pretty features melts into something of concern. And before he can dig a deeper hole for himself, you’re raising the back of your hand to splay out across his forehead.

“I didn’t think you hit the ground that hard but-” you raise a brow, head tilting to the side. “-I think you’ve got a concussion.”

Oh, yeah he’s definitely in heaven - that or actually concussed. Maybe both.

A low whistle sounds from his right - and soon enough he’s staring at the shoes of the other first-year he’d met just today. Low bangs hanging over his face, jostling with light cackles, “Haven’t they told you not to confess your undying love until at least the second date, Gojo?”

Nevermind, he was in hell.

“Ieri!” Geto turns towards the other girl, who was busy typing away on her phone. But Gojo could’ve sworn he heard the shutter of a camera coming from her way. “He was flown out of bounds, that’s gotta count as one point for me, right? And another for the pretty girl. You keepin’ score?”

She only sighs, “No.”

What’s a first day at high school without a duel between two of the proudly self-proclaimed strongest? And, of course, you - the fourth addition to their little group, hastily scrambling off of Gojo’s lap at the jeering laughter from above. 

Dammit. 

Later, he might apologize for running headfirst into you - might. Ignoring the pointed giggles, and the burning rouge at the very tip of his ears, to find out your name. And to make up some stilted excuse about how that was completely the concussion talking and he totally wasn’t serious about having dinner so please, please, please don’t snitch to Yaga about the impromptu matches taking place on school grounds…unless? 

But for now, Gojo’s only lazily turning to look up at Geto, bringing a hand up to squint against the harsh sun beating down. Or, at least, that’s what it was meant to look like - “Technique amplification: Blue!”

He only hopes the property damage isn’t as high as what his poor heart had just gone through. Detention with Yaga be damned - and if by some grace of the universe he actually does end up escaping before he’s caught then, well, he’ll actually ask you out to dinner tomorrow. 

---

Gojo Satoru is almost eighteen when he thinks that not even the Gojo family’s most expensive insurance will cover whatever curse you’ve casted on his poor heart.

You’re both well into the second year, and by now he’d been to twelve different doctors, five shamans, and Principal Yaga himself before Geto smacked him upside the head. 

“Satoru, you complete imbecile-”

“Hey!” He fights out of his best friend’s grasp around the scruff of his uniform, crossing his arms over his chest with a whine, “I’ll have you know that I got the highest exam score last week, and I cheated only a little bit-”

Geto cuts him off with a sigh, wearily pinching the bridge of his nose, “No- you idiot. What do you mean you went to Yaga to girl-talk with him about your crush.” And when Gojo’s mouth falls slack, he’s smirking, “Oh- my bad, I meant your love-”

It’s said that Gojo’s gasp echoed all throughout the wooden corridors of the school - maybe even the entire grounds. Hotly, he’s sputtering out broken little excuses, “I don’t- what do you-” Before turning away to cool the burning of his sweetly rosy cheeks, “You’re the imbecile for spewing out such nonsense, Suguru.”

“Are you sure?” Geto turns to get a better look at the way those pretentiously expensive glasses fail to cover even the half of it. He’s never been able to, when it comes to you. “Because that’s quite literally the first thing you said to her-”

“I had a concussion!”

“After she touched you?” 

And for perhaps the first time in the years he’s been wreaking havoc on Earth, Gojo is speechless. A welcome change for Geto, who mulls over in the silence while they loiter - very much missing whatever mission was assigned right now. 

“I…” he starts, voice small. Pathetic, even. “...was concussed.” And before Geto can let out the same frustrated, dragged-out groan he often does whenever he’s around the two of you, Gojo’s plowing on, “But if I did lo- like her - hypothetically speaking - how would I even tell her?”

Usually, the other’s first reaction would be to tease his best friend. But at this moment he sounded so…young, painfully sincere in a way that was so disgustingly un-Gojo-like that he can’t help but cringe.

“Well, Satoru.” he muses, throwing a hand around his shoulder. “You just gotta…tell her my man. Preferably before that big mission coming up because I am not dragging your moping self around.”

He rolls his eyes, scoffing, “Gee, thanks. I’ll totally get on that tomorrow.”

“You’re welcome.”

BANG!

Yaga’s voice bellows, “Can you two stop doing this outside my office!”

And as much as Gojo hates to admit it, Geto was right - he usually was. 

Well - perhaps not about the love part, but subconsciously, he found himself seeking out every tiny moment with you. Every second by your side - ignoring the other two bothers - was a new opportunity to just tell you. To break that thick solitude inside your little bubble with those little words. Ones that would go and spoil it all. 

Not to be dramatic, but Gojo almost made a game out of it. Mouthing out the words whenever your back was turned - it started from “Dinner tomorrow?” to “I like you.” to something stupid that only gave Shoko aneurysms. 

And, expectedly, “tomorrow” doesn’t happen to be tomorrow. 

Tomorrow isn’t in your next class, or whatever mission Gojo tags along with you for “moral support.” Tomorrow isn’t the cozy little detention the two of you attend after catching Yaga’s interpretive dance routine - “that’s the scariest thing I’ve ever seen- even more than any curse.” you whisper fearfully to him, and he thinks he might just blurt it out right then and there.

Tomorrow isn’t when he’s just about to leave on some confidential mission with Geto, bidding you goodbye with a roll of his eyes and a hug he pretends he doesn’t like as much as he actually does. Tomorrow isn’t even when he’s baking in Okinawan sun, or strewn out bloodied and left for dead on the very grounds he met you on. 

But oh how he wishes it was.

In that moment, incapacitated by Toji Fushiguro, and wondering where it went wrong, he thinks of you. Gojo thinks he’ll always remember you in every moment, and especially when they’re his last.

The Star Plasma Vessel mission and its aftermath takes up most of his mind afterward, even when he didn’t want it to. And all he can remember about tomorrow comes only a few months later, when an ashen-faced Gojo Satoru slams open the rickety door to your dorm.

“G-Gojo?” you sputter, sitting up in your bed. But before you can even think of reaching him, he’s crossed your floor in a few long strides. “Are you ok- mmpf!”

In an instant, he’s splaying out on your mattress, legs dangling off the end, strong arms wrapped tightly around your waist. 

Your first instinct is to snap something snarky - but every tease at the very tip of your tongue vanishes when he buries his head into your lap. And you feel something wet, something drench though your skirt heatedly. 

“Is…” you’re gulping thickly. “Is everything okay, Satoru?”

Ah, his name sounds too perfect on your tongue. 

“Suguru…” Is all he shudders out wetly, jittery hands looping even more vice-like around your figure. “He-”

It’s just about the only thing he can get out, and it’s just about everything you need to hear before bringing his shivering body closer. Quiet. Steady. Rocking the strongest gently, while you hum a wordless melody. “S’alright. S’gonna be okay.”

Now, he thinks. Now now now now - tell her. Tell her. But when a tear of your own stains his shirt, he knows. Hauling you in even deeper to his chest, he prays you don’t hear his thundering heart. Perhaps tomorrow. 

---

Gojo is twenty-one by the time he’s dragging you hand-in-loveable-hand through the winding hallways of an apartment in the heart of Tokyo. Mumbling excited little mutters, and almost tripping over his own feet with how fast he was navigating the corridors. 

“Sato- S-Sato-” you’re squealing out, grimacing at the tugging burn of your hands in his. “Toru! Where are you- taking me?” 

Sheepishly, he looks at you over his shoulder, “Whoops, did I forget to tell you- I have kids!”

He doesn’t know what’s louder - your shocked shout of “What? When?...By who?” or the screeching of his own two shoes skidding to a halt in front of that familiar door. 

“Well, they’re not mine.” Gojo sighs ultimately, with a hand at the door. And that makes you quieten down just enough to hear his barely-audible little whisper. Determined. Reverent, almost. “But they’re mine.”

And when he finally opens the door, just one look at the tiny, black-haired little boy and his sharp scowl is all you need to understand. You’re whirling your eyes back to his beaming gaze, oh, Satoru.

Only mere moments later the two of you - accompanied by a very begrudging Megumi, and his sister - sit by the booth of one of your favorite cafés. Embarrassingly, he finds himself sighing while watching you crack jokes with the little girl. Turning to the server to order for her - it almost felt like a little family. Oh you’d make such a perfect mother. A completely objective observation, of course. Completely. Unless- 

“You’ll never do it.” a tug on his sleeve has him facing Megumi’s leveled stare. How the hell does a kid manage to look like he’s seen the monstrosities of the world already? Gojo blames the father.

Baring his teeth, “The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Little did he know that all it took was watching him seethe whenever the waiter by your side was just a bit too talkative, a bit too lingering with his gaze. In his little reverie, Gojo had accidentally croaked out a low, “I-” before you’d turned those pretty eyes his way, only to choke back embarrassingly on every syllable. Gesturing at you to ignore his little mishap. 

“Tell her, I mean.” Megumi hums. Taking a wizened sip of his milkshake, “She’ll date that waiter before you if you don’t tell her.”

“That’s so…so stupid.” Gojo whispers back hotly. “I will tell her.”

“Will not.”

“Will too.”

“Will not.”

“Will-” 

“Boys!” Your scolding tone makes them both jump - mainly Gojo, however, caught off-guard. Who scratches behind his neck when you wag a finger admonishingly, “Stop arguing, we’re in public. Now, as for payment-” Before turning back politely to the waiter.

“See?” Megumi counters, back to appraising the last of his cupcake. “You’re such a loser.”

Gojo’s gaze, however, stray back your way, as he found them often doing these days. Only to find them already on him, scrunched into crescents with a smile and twinkling so bright that he could almost catch his idiotic gawking in them. 

Very pointedly he ignores the knowing roll of Megumi’s eyes, the exact type he’s seen too much with Shoko, and Nanami, and Utahime, and Yaga - and every single being to come into contact with his almost-tangibly hopeless feelings for you.

Instead, slamming that shiny new black card of his down in front of him - with enough fervor that the tabletop jostles, and you jolt out of your conversation with the waiter. 

“I’ll be the one paying for myself, and my two kids and-” His burning eyes drink in every shred of surprise on your features. “-my wife.”

Somewhere in the distance, Gojo can hear Tsumiki giggle, and Megumi smack a hand onto his forehead. But right now he’s too busy remembering the exact degree to which your lips curl up, the way you hold back a laugh at the waiter’s jaw dropping. Nevermind the fact that the two of you were way too young to have two kids of this age. 

“He was getting a bit pushy.” you’d conspire afterwards, now completely full and fatigued after a long day. “Thanks for that, Toru.”

Gojo sighs, flashing you a megawatt grin. If there were ever a time he thanks his Six Eyes for being able to memorize every little detail - every little feature in this picture - then it would be right now. He’s reveling in the bittersweet perfection. Yeah, he thinks, holding up a sleepy Megumi in his arms, maybe tomorrow.

---

There’s actually been about sixty different times over the years that Gojo knows you’d wanted to punch him straight in his face - and he’s sure, at the age of twenty-seven, that this is the very latest one. 

“How did you get hit, don’t you have limitless?”

He shoots a wink your way, “Maybe I wanted you to patch me up?”

You scoff, “You stupid, moronic-”

“-no-brained, glasses-wearing dumbass.” he finishes for you, flashing you a cocky smirk that wouldn’t have been endearing for anyone but him. Gojo makes himself more comfortable on the hard infirmary bed, “You know, you’ve really got to update your list of insults, sweetheart. I don’t even wear the shades that much anymore.”

It was new - as soon as you’d cackled at the idea of him being a teacher with perpetual sunglasses, he’d wrapped that blindfold around his head. It was a slight shame, frankly, he was always honest with his eyes - but what was more important was that change.

Sweetheart.

Sometime after you’d intertwined seamlessly into Gojo’s mishmashed little family, he’d taken to calling you syrupy sweet nicknames. It’d started out as a joke, you think - with “sugarplum” and “honeybuckets” and whatever grocery item he could think of, before turning into something very, very real. 

Though, they still made poor Megumi grimace in disgust just the same.

“Zoning out on me, babygirl?” 

Yeah, sometimes they made you grimace in disgust, too. 

“No-” you’re rolling your eyes, putting a little bit more force than necessary when you dab the warm napkin at those tiny specks of blood on his lip. “Just hoping you’d shut up.”

Gojo hisses, eyes crinkling at the edges - and you can’t help but think of how much older he looked than the disgruntled sixteen-year-old that swore at you on your first day. 

“What?” his snowy brows raise, catching the hints of your laughter. 

You take a moment longer to bask in the memories, before sighing. “Nothing. Just thinking about when we first met, s’been ten years already, hasn’t it?”

Of course, it has - it’s not like something the great Gojo Satoru could ever even think about forgetting. He remembers it in every cheesy selfie from high school you show him, he remembers in each and every one of your laughs at his overused jokes - the same ones he’d cracked way back then. 

“It has.” he’s settling on after a few rare beats of silence. The thick white sheets on the bed rustle as he grasps your hand in his, “And I think I remember that today more than any other.”

It was impossible not to, when you’d just met your best friend after ten years. When you’d just killed your best friend with your own two hands.

Your pretty eyes shine with all the tears you’d been hiding, “Yeah? Guess so, huh?” Without warning, you bend down to meet your forehead with his, gulping back heavily. You knew he didn’t just want to be patched up, you knew better. And you knew that even the strongest gets lonely. Especially the strongest. Your voice is strained, quiet. “Do you think he’s happier now, Toru?”

Truthfully, Gojo doesn’t know. 

But he whispers anyway, “I think so.”

To soothe you - and himself - if anything.

His eyes burn, and he’s scrunching them shut. A lump forming in his throat, Gojo can feel his entire being just rattle with the sudden wonder whether you’d feel it just the same when - if - he dies. Would you ask if he’s happy, too? Thinking he did and had everything he wanted in this life - not knowing he’s searching for you in every one? This life, and the next, and each one after.

“Sweetheart.” Gojo mumbles, eyes widening when you’re raising your head to look back at him, as if he didn’t even expect the words to fall from his lips. His jaw clenches, eyes flitting between your eyes and your lips like the rest of it was just threatening to wrench from his throat. “He- Suguru. Back in high school - before he…left- he told me-” 

“Gojo sensei, where is the- Oh!”

The two of you jump apart as if it burned, and for Gojo, the angry split on his lower lip hurts infinitely less than losing your touch. Holding back a silent whine, he turns towards the dark-haired boy fretting by the doorway, “Yuta? Something wrong?”

“Oh, you’ve done it, newbie.” Panda’s deep voice sounds from behind the doorway, and he peaks his large head in. “Gojo’s got his serious voice on, should’ve just spied silently like me. I told you not to interrupt him and his wife.”

“You’re married?!”

“We’re not married!”

“Tuna.”

The room erupts in far too many voices, and before long you’re clapping your hands in that strict teacherly manner that Gojo teases you always learned from Yaga himself. 

“Okay, that’s enough.” you call out, before turning to the newest first year. “Okkotsu, do you need help with anything? I’ll be right with you.” 

“I…I really didn’t mean to interrupt.” he’s bowing with apologies, ones that you only wave away with a chuckled-out, “It’s okay, Panda’s joking. We’re not married or anything anyway.”

And Gojo doesn’t know whether the look Yuta gives him is more akin to pity or understanding - he prefers it be neither, which is why he’s covering his head with the blanket. Groaning dramatically until you’re turning your attention back to him. 

You ruffle the amount of his hair peaking, and he has to screw his glassy eyes shut. “Toru, what is it that you wanted to say?”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s stupid.” His tone is unreadable, “I’ll tell you, hope- hopefully tomorrow.”

---

“Stay.”

“Sweetheart-”

“Stay.”

“Sweetheart.” 

You’re barely holding up the clingy mess that is a twenty-nine-year-old Gojo Satoru. Huffing and puffing in a way that makes his heart and his arms around you just squeeze, “It’s not an option. You know I have to do this.”

How he wished he didn’t.

How he wished he could grab your hand and run away from the fight with Sukuna, hide in the countryside of his hometown and build a new life with you.

It’s already been a hellish few weeks trying to get Gojo unsealed, and you can feel the last few months pounding at your temples. You let out a sigh, one that has him holding back a strangely giddy laugh. But before you can open your mouth to yell at him to not go - or more accurately, beg him until he doesn’t - there’s a tentative voice speaking up from behind you. 

“Um…sensei?” Yuji’s wide eyes sweep over his two teachers, being at Jujutsu Tech for a few months, he’s seen everything there is to see about the two of you. He saw the way you smacked the strongest when he got too mouthy, the way he let down limitless just so you could smack him. He saw the laughs, the looks, the way you’d flown into a frenzy when Gojo was sealed. 

Everyone saw.

It was like you were crazed, and right now, only a month after his return - you were gripping onto Gojo like he was the only thing keeping you anything but. 

So, it shouldn’t be new at this point. But he still can’t hold back the wonder in his voice, “I uh- wanted to ask about your robes for tomorrow- but maybe I can come back another time?”

“Yes yes, come back another time-”

“What robes?” 

You narrow your eyes at the man, and that sheepish little curl of his lips does everything but soothe your worries. He knew you saw right through him, you always did. 

Gojo’s exclaiming out loud, “Well- remember Toji-?” He waves his hands around, trying for a slightly softer way to say ‘the sorcerer killer and father of our honorary kid, who just-so-happens to be on a rampage right now’, before ultimately settling on, “-the worm guy? Well, I just figured I might as well take a page out of his book and dress like him, y’know since I’m fighting…Megumi after all.”

It takes a few seconds of stunned silence for you to find your voice, “You stupid-” 

“-moronic, no-brained, blindfold-wearing-”

“-dumbass! You remember what happened to him!” 

He bats his long, long lashes at you, “Why? Would you get this heated if I died just the same way he did?”

“No!” Your voice makes even Yuji flinch, which in turn has you reaching over to pat his head, “This is not on you, darling, of course. But your teacher here-” And it was comical, almost, the way the strongest stands up ramrod straight at just a leveled glare from you, “-will be getting it when he comes back from the fight.”

Comes back.

Oh, as much as Gojo throws his head back with chortles, he can’t help the way his heart twinges at the very thought of leaving you. 

And he can’t be sure of just how long.

“Ah, you talk too much, pretty. I’ll tell Megs how much you miss him.” You’re not given a second’s warning before you’re back in his embrace - more steady, this time. His arms securely around your waist, like they’d been twelve years ago and never wanted to leave since. Lips pressed up against the thundering pulse at your neck, Gojo’s voice dips just a bit lower than you’re used to. Breathing you in, “I will, too, y’know? Very much.”

Jittery, he could feel every slight tremor in your nervous fingers when you run them through his hair, dipping into the ends of his black blindfold. 

“Wh-what do you mean? S’only for a few hours, Toru.” you hum. “You better be back or so help me.”

“I know…” he heaves out, only pressing you close up against his broad frame. “But just in case- I-” Gojo’s voice cracks pathetically at the end, and he’s instantly too aware of Yuji’s keen eyes still watching. Edging up against the corner of the room like he wished he could have Gojo’s teleportation powers right about now. “-have something stupid to tell you. So I’ll hurry home anyways.”

You’re pulling back to quirk a brow, “Why not just tell me now?”

How he wished he could.

“Because it’s stupid.” 

Later, Gojo will find himself strewn across jujutsu hall with Yuji himself - the only one, other than you, he thinks, that can stand to be around a weapon like him right now. Listening to the hum of cursed energy in the air, he gets himself ready for the fight.

“Why didn’t you tell her? Especially now?” His student pipes up, suddenly, and Gojo remembers with a sigh just how uncomfortably in tune he is with everyone around him. Fearfully, so. “That you lov-”

“Because it’s stupid.” the older one grins. Such a sad, warmly smile - and for perhaps the first time, Yuji thinks that Gojo Satoru looks his age. “And I don’t think she’d want to hear it if I don’t make it to tomorrow.”

---

“Stupid.” you mutter, biting angrily at your nails. Hot tears burn behind your closed lids, and you can’t help but tighten your hand even more around his cold, cold ones. Limp. Like death. “You’re so, so stupid.”

There’s no response. No sing-song voice finishing off your insults, no large and ruffling your hair until you have to bat him away. 

Gojo Satoru was deathly still. 

Laid out on the cold mattress of his room, you’d bugged Shoko enough to let you move him here, knowing how much he hated the infirmary. 

“Being so reckless- having Yuta use your body-” in your fit of anger, you’re whirling your head up. Only for the pang of regret and grief to hit you tenfold all over again - because like this, he was too statuesque. A pretty mask of pale, what you’d give to have those eyes wink at you once more. “-if- when you wake up, I’m gonna kill you all over again.”

They told you he was dead - there was no point in waiting. In fact, you were sure there was a grave dug already, it was just a matter of how soon they could get to you. 

It was a strange thing, to be loved just enough to get a burial. In the end, it was lonely.

And so stupid. 

And at times, you felt that way, too. But all it took was one visit to where Geto’s grave was, a few long hours sat by his side, and you knew you couldn’t let Gojo escape you that easily. Not after everything, not after what he hasn’t told you, yet.

“Just wake up.” you sigh, the defeat bleeding into your every word. You run your thumb over the pronounced knuckles on his hand, calloused and scarred from his fight. “There’s so much to hear about. Higuruma’s alive, Nobara’s alive, pulling off that eyepatch. Like father, like daughter, huh? And Megumi- I saw Megumi laugh today. Yuji, too.”

Silence. Only stone-cold silence. He didn’t even move - not even the barest twitch of a finger.

“I just need you to wake up.” Your words are tumbling out a mile a minute, distantly, you wonder whether this was how Gojo felt when he first met you. How he couldn’t stop talking. Couldn’t stop wanting. “Shoko’s mad at you, y’know? But I know she misses you, no matter how much she pretends not to. I know that Jujutsu Tech can’t go any longer without Yaga, we- I need you. Didn’t even get to tell you-” 

It’s all croaked out into a deafening silence, at least if you were in the hospital room then maybe the pinging of the heart monitor might’ve accompanied you. But they’d pulled him off that, too. 

Unmistakable. 

“And I know that I…” You bury your face into the now-damp blankets, “I love you.”

“And I love you.”

There’s only the split-second you take to snap your head up before lips are crashing onto yours - plump, slightly-chapped but something so sweetly Satoru. Before you can even think about kissing back, however, he’s pulling away. 

Only to press hasty, chaste pecks again. And again. And again and again and-

Gojo kisses your wet eyelids, “I love you.” Your forehead, your cheeks, the corners of your lips. “I love you I love you I love you- and you beat me to it.” Those strained little words strike your very core - because it’s unmistakably Gojo. Sounding anything but, they’re broken and wrenching painfully out of his wracking chest. “So I just- I just had to-” Big, strong arms wrap around your middle - when did they even get there? It pangs somewhere in your hazy mind that you’re basically hoisted up on Gojo’s bed now, “-to do exactly what I’ve been wanting to since we were like this, thirteen years ago. Everything I’ve ever hoped for.”

“Everything?” you whisper.

“Everything. Even the strongest has dreams, y’know?” And he flashes you that smile you’ve missed so much, one you don’t think you’ve quite seen in years. “Even something stupid like ‘I love you.’”

That makes you cautiously glide over your palms onto the planes of his muscled chest, lightly pushing away to take in all of him. 

It was him. Alive. 

Really alive.

“Gojo…” you whimper, tears welling up behind your eyelids all over again.

“Ouch. Really?”

“Satoru.”

“Hmmm…”

“Toru.”

“That’s more like it.” The circled warmth around your waist crashes you even closer onto every ridge and divot of his hard chest, into the sweetest embrace - the kind you really couldn’t be mad about after your best friend had almost left you forever. “Told ya I’d come back, sweetheart.”

You could practically hear the sunshiney smile in his words, and his entire hulking body shook with emotion. 

“You’re back.” you breathe, dancing your arms upwards to wrap around his neck. “You’re here.” It takes only a second longer of being in his burning proximity, to catch that pearly white smile - tired, and infinitely harder than before - to have some semblance of rationality dipping into your mind. “-and- and we have to tell everyone!” you’re yelping. Moving to scramble off of his lap, “Oh- fuck, and they thought I was crazy. We have to- have to have Shoko give you a check-up and have Kusakabe finally ditch those funeral plans and-” 

You’re being shut up by Gojo’s lips on yours again, slow and sensual. It’s deeper this time, and he’s taking the time to part those candied lips of yours, sucking gently on the very tip of your hot tongue. 

“My funeral is the last thing I wanna think about right now.” he chuckles against your lips.

“But-”

“Tomorrow.” Gojo soothes, craning his weary neck to kiss your forehead. “We can do all that tomorrow. But right now, I just want to spend time with the love of my life.” His cerulean eyes just gleam with unshed tears and even more unspoken words, “Doesn’t have to be forever. Just right now.”

As promised, he’s petting up and down your body lazily. Kissing you until even smiling felt bruised and raw. But it’s only when the air grows thick, when the slight jostle of your body on top of his becomes hot, his own skin burning soon after that Gojo lets out a sullen hiss. 

“Toru-” you pull away panickedly, delicate strings of saliva snapping in the nonexistent air between you two. “We should really-”

“No- no no no no. Please wait-” Hastily, he’s bringing down a jittery hand to his hip, the buzz of reversed curse technique flowing through his thrumming veins. Meeting your uncertain gaze, “I’ve waited so long. Wontcha just let me worship you right now?”

As if to prove his point, he’s bucking upwards ever-so-slightly. The momentum teetering you precariously on his lap, dragging the heated core between your legs down in such a sloppy drag.

You’re gasping when the very outer edges of your panties rub up against something so hard, and rotund. Feeling the wet squelch of his angry tip gush out in a dripping wet wave at the friction. “A-are you sure?” you’re stammering, trying to hold back the way your greedy thighs were trying to rub together. Only achieving heavy, languid gyrations on top of the rock-hard outline of Gojo’s cock. “How about tomorrow? When you’re feeling better?”

It’s a slow, steady rhythm. There’s a ringing schwf! schwf! schwf! of sopping wet fabric, and it was driving him crazy. 

“Right now please- haaa-” Gojo’s tongue lolls out so sluttily to graze against your own, dazed blue irises rolling to the back of his head. His spine curves upwards, abs rippling with a harsh drag of your clothed pussy down his weepy shaft. “Whenever you’d have me.”

Almost tentatively, your hips roll forward. That flimsy excuse of your panties bunching up with each grazing rub, it’s all you can do to not just keen at the utterly delicious curve of his thick girth. Throbbing and twitchy under each of your motions. 

He’s hissing when your underwear snags on the very divot at his thick head, sitting up on two elbows, “S-sweetheart.”

“No, Toru.” your palms are back on his pecs, easily pinning the strongest down with a gentle push of your own. “Jus’ let me do all the work, m’kay?”

Gojo wasn’t all too happy - and the sullen pout jutting on his spit-glossed lips told you more than enough. But he wasn’t going down without a fight - that was for sure. 

“F-fine.” he grunts at a particularly harsh grind of your hips. Fuck, he felt like some animal, humping up into you like he was out of control. He could practically feel your puffed-up pussy lips through his pants, he could almost taste it. Two rough hands come to rest on your hips, grabbing and kneading a handful of your ass. “But then you’re not just hah- sitting there, pretty.” 

And, shit, even like this, you should’ve known better than to underestimate Gojo Satoru himself. Because whatever he wanted, he got. The one thing he didn’t was you - and now, since he had you, too, fuck- he might just be going insane. 

Not a moment’s wasted before you’re being so easily hauled up, up, up the entire expanse of Gojo’s body. Jittery body being balanced easily as if you were some type of toy, up from the slender curve of his toned hips, up around where his broad deltoids were spread, all the way until your cunt was hovering over his needy mouth. “Can’t believe I hngh- almost died without havin’ a taste of this pretty pussy.”

“Toru.”

“Sweetheart.” he mocks.

You shiver with each feverish puff of hot breath blown right onto your clothed cunt. And even more so when you’re feeling such a long, slender finger slide in through the translucent fabric. 

Fuck, Gojo swallows thickly, bunching up your skirt. You were so sopping wet he could almost see the outline of his index through your panties. He slides the back of it slowly up and down. Heavy balls squeezing painfully at the volume of your saturated slick collecting on his digit, just trailing glossily down to his deft wrist. 

Mesmerized, your jaw falls slack at the sight down below of Gojo - cloudy hair mussed, cheeks all pink and burning a blushing rouge, tongue darting out to catch each stray drop of your sweet sweet juices. Drip! Drip! Drip! 

“Oh- sh-shiiit-” he rasps, lowly, mulling over your honeyed taste. Sounding so awed, breath hitching when Gojo tugs your panties just enough to the side to catch a mere glimpse of your messy cunt. Glistening and winking down lewdly at him. “S’jus’ you n’ me right now, huh?”

You don’t know who exactly he’s talking to - and you don’t get to find out, because that’s all it takes for Gojo’s kiss-bitten lips to clash messily against your cunt - panties and all. 

A soft swipe of his tongue glides the fabric to the side, so depraved, so needy that for that split-second he’s tasting you, he can’t even think of removing it. One taste of your sweetened pussy and he can’t even bear the thought of breaking apart, licking up in long, languid stripes that wet the very front of your swollen folds. 

Just the taste of you had him palming desperately at the tent in his pants, rubbing up and down at a pace that matched his rummaging tongue.

The very edge of your tastebuds rub so deliciously in teasing circles around the corners of your dripping silt, your inner thighs. 

“S-s’toru-” you’re letting out such throaty, dragged-out groans that send every drop of blood in Gojo’s body thumping to his achy cock. “Don’t be such a- a tease.”

You’re locking your glassy eyes with him and he feels like he could pass out. Groaning and smacking into your cunt, “Tell me- fuck fuck fuck- tell me what you want, sweetheart. Anything.” Your entire body arches into his hot mouth like such a slut, when he bullies between your folds. Barely flicking against the sensitive nub of your clit. “Everything. Anything for you.”  

When you’re weaving your fingers deliriously through his silky soft strands, he babbles, “Oh fuck- yeah, pull on my hair.” One of his hands come down to grip onto your panties, pulling the fabric so that you revel in the filthy friction. “Use me while you ride m’face, okay?”

With that, his mouth is sagging open even further letting your thighs straddle the entirety of his face so easily. So close. So messy how he was carding his tongue from the very base of your pussy, up into your quivering entrance.

“Fuck–” you’re whining, grinding into his touch when he wraps his soft lips around your clit. Barely even easing you with syrupy, wet circles of his heated tongue before sucking. Harsh. Depraved. But so, so him. “Don’- don’ stop, feels too good–!”

You didn’t know if he heard you, fuck you didn’t even know if Gojo was even breathing. 

Even if he wanted to stop - he didn’t think he could. Because he was so ravenous between your legs, forcing your pliant body into such smooth gyrations on his tongue. Silken, soft, such sultry licks of his tongue on your clit. 

Electricity sparks behind your eyes when with a wet slurp! he smacks away from your pretty pussy, “You think- you think I can stop?” And he sounds so genuinely in disbelief, as if the very thought of it was appalling. Through heavy, lingering kisses and sucks onto your clit, Gojo’s managing to get out, “I can’t have enough. Fuck- please.” The very rounded pads of his fingers dig so bruisingly into the flesh of your ass, jiggling and kneading with every drag of your hips. He’s begging at this point, “Fuck yourself on my face. Rougher, faster, c’mon now. You can do it, my sweetheart.” 

He was so fucking desperate, big fat tears almost welling in his eyes while he whined underneath you. Groping so obscenely at his sweltering hot erection. How could you not listen?

“If you say so.”

Using the vice-like grip on his locks, you’re managing to leverage your motions even deeper. Rougher, like he’d wanted. Every protesting creak of the bedpost was accompanied by a synchronized whimpering of ah! ah! ah! coming from both your mouths. 

“S’it good?” he gasps, and all you could see was the flushed upper half of his features. And the lower half - fuck, though the peaks and cracks you could make out just how glisteningly wet it was with all of your messy cunt. His lips were just drenched, slick-soaked mouth making out harshly with your pussy through your panties. Trailing all the way down in a glossy sheen over the lower half of his face, dripping off his chin, fuck- up to his cheekbones- 

As if that wasn’t enough, the massive palm resting at your thigh comes dancing down to tease around your sopping wet entrance. 

If you were in the right state of mind, you could’ve sworn that you heard a sharp rip! coming from that poor tattered fabric of your underwear right then and there. 

“Tell me- fuck fuck fuck- use that pretty voice of yours please.” Still suckling lewdly on your clit, his cheeks hollow out . Entire body just jolting upwards, forcing you to press down harder with your motions. “Use me. Use me.”

“S-so–” you mewl when his slender fingers bully easily past that first ring of muscle. So many cold inches of his digits, feeling around determinedly inside your heated, gummy walls for those sweet spots that will make you whine. “So loud, Toru-” you’re spitting, meshing his mouth even harder with yours down below. And you can practically feel him smirk against your cunt. “For someone that wants this s-so hngh! bad you sure are-”

There.

Right there.

Gojo Satoru had just crashed into the spongy cavern of your g-spot - easily, at that. And there was such a crazed, sloppy sting to each of his movements. Smashing in over and over-

“Heh…tha’s how I l-like it.” he’s spying up at your trembly thighs, the way his overworked lips were being coated with a fresh wave of our honeyed slick with each passing second. “Good girl- gooood fuckin’ girl–” 

Hazily, you’re wondering whether it doesn’t hurt. Whether his weepy cock ached just as badly as it looked, how his tongue isn’t fucking cramping up by now. 

But he goes on - like he couldn’t stop, like he was out of control. A greedy little push and pull, dragging his tongue all over until you saw flashes of white. Until you could only scream out his name like a mantra. Until you were cumming. 

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck- Toru!” your slurring out a mile a minute. Both of your hands now steadfast on his head, riding out your high all over Gojo’s pretty, pretty face. And he let you - fuck, he let you. “M’cumming- shit, feel so good. M’cumming-”

So good, so filthy that it made your toes curl, your hips stutter sloppily. Arching like such a slut, you could barely even see properly. Your breath was coming out in such labored heaves at this point, and Gojo wasn’t any better. 

It was like he couldn’t stop, happily drinking up every single, sticky drop your cunt had to offer. Pussydrunken eyes drooping shut, unable to let out anything but satisfied grunts. The muscle of his tongue is just frenzied in eager slips and slides along your cunt - absolutely no rhythm or method right now. Sucking, licking, biting anywhere he could possibly reach. 

“F-fuck–” you’re crying out tearily once the very peak of your orgasm fades, and all that’s left are a few overstimulated tingles being wrenched out by a greedy Gojo. “Toru, m’done.” You tug desperately on his hair - but even that doesn’t bate him the slightest bit. “S’getting too much- fuck-”

“Awww, too much for my girl?” he’s cooing, the words jumbling together in his drunken state. There’s a glossy mess of spit and slick drooling down the corners of his smirk. “Does this cute cunt of yours need a break?”

At your barely-lucid nod, it only grows wider. Smugger. “Too bad-” And Gojo’s just taunting you with a final, long lick up the very core of your pussy, “Because if I almost hah- died without her once, then you best believe m’gonna c-crawl back from death for ya each and every single time.”

It takes his strong arms - even bruised and battered through battle - only two whole seconds to plop you back down prettily onto his lap. Right over where his angry cock was just weeping for attention. And suddenly, it hurts without you. “So you’re not getting a break anytime soon. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Ha ha.” You’re rolling your eyes, “Very funny.”

“Mhm.” Gojo looks up at you through his white lashes, and you can only watch when he brings up his syrupy-sweet, glossy fingers up to his mouth. One by one. Sucking. Slowly, looking right into your eyes. It makes your mouth just salivate. “Got that right.”

The sheets billow behind you when you’re fumbling deftly with his shirt, all but ripping - tearing that stupid thing off of his form. Your skirt and top are soon to follow - his jaw clenches with the slight strain, leaving it in poor tatters on the floor.

“Shit- shit you’ve been-” his mouth just waters when your tits are released from your bra. Jiggling tantalizingly in his face in a way that makes him bury into it. “-been holding out on me.”

“Oh-” you let out, traitorously, at the first sight of each curve and divot along his milky sculpted body. Gojo Satoru was serious about dressing up like Toji, and no matter how much his t-shirt looked so sinfully painted on - actually seeing it was something else. “You’re so pretty, Toru.” You smooth your palms down his large shoulders, the faint scars between his pecs, his abs - that scar. Stark and large, Shoko had done her best work, but it still looked so painful. It must feel so, too, being sewn back together like some ragdoll. He catches the way your expression dampers - of course, he does. “Toru…”

Gojo winces when your fingers glide over that jagged scar. But if that was pain, then it was absolutely nothing compared to the pure, unadulterated fear when you abruptly pull your hands away. 

“S-sorry- I didn’t mean to-”

“No!” he cuts you off, wrapping his long fingers around your wrist. All but dragging it - right along with you - to his still-healing body. “Touch me. Hurts more when you don’t.”

You’re batting your lashes up at him in a way that makes his heart stutter, and his poor, angry cock twitch. “Hurts me when you lie.”

“M’not lying, see?” With a low nod of his head, he’s gesturing you to look down - where it was unmissable. 

Because straddled right in-between your pussy lips was Gojo’s erect cock - proud and so prominent, even through his pants. With the sheer girth bulging upwards you could feel your greedy pussy dampen over the cloth in anticipation. 

“Well…” He’s throwing his head back when you knead your palm over the very end of his print, “I can’t quite see-”

Gojo takes the hint - and you have to bite your lip from teasing that it was quite possibly the only hint you’d thrown his way that he’d actually understood. But it was so hard to - not when he was this eager. 

And, on those long, lonely nights, you’d imagined that your best friend would be suave, infinitely collected with things like this. 

But, no, he was fumbling and jittery with his movements. So needy to please you that it takes you to help him pull down his tight, sticky boxers over the curving muscle of his thighs. 

“O-oh fuck–” you breathe out, when he finally springs out. Sweeping up and down each and every long, thick inch of him - Gojo was as hard as if he was carved out of fucking diamond. Such a furious, rosy red at his leaky tip, glistening down, down, down into the most mouth-watering shade of creamy pink at his thick hilt. He was so big. Your thighs squeeze together in sultry need - with a slight tinge of fear. So unfairly pretty - even like this. “You’re- you’re so much bigger than I’d imagined, Toru.” 

No sooner are the words out of your mouth that you’re being flashed with his dark smirk once more, “You imagined this?” There’s a slight reverence to his voice, scared. 

It almost makes you shy - and Gojo can practically sense the waves of embarrassment rolling off of you. 

“Awww, come back to me, please, pretty- Please-” he purrs, cupping your cheeks. “I came hah- back, didn’t I?” You’re being jostled to and fro when he rests himself more comfortably on the bed, leaning back to admire you further. “And now-” Your breath hitches in your throat when he situates himself right in-between your thighs, the fat curve of his head so swelteringly kissing your folds. Drenching it in his thick precum, “-now m’never gonna let ya go.” 

Fuck, you know you should heave in a few gasps of hair, you know you should relax, maybe even stretch your legs wide open.

Because Gojo was so fucking big, it felt like he was splitting you from the inside out. Just the slight push of his tip bullying between your folds has you moaning - crying.  

“You- you’re so big-” Your nails dig into the plush of his pecs for stability, leaving neat crescent patterns that stand out redly. “S’like you’re reaching into my hngh- l-lungs-”

Just those words have him expanding even deeper, ruddying even more furiously. Gojo gets so much bigger that you just can’t help but sink yourself down his shaft, feeling your elastic walls contort so easily around his length. 

“H-heh– ohhh-” he breathes out - baritone voice lilting a few pitches higher than usual. The hands around your waist grab you even harsher, feeding you each inch by fucking inch of his fat, pulsing cock. “You got me- so–” His hips thrust upwards in mindless little jabs, “-fucked up, right now, sweetheart.”

And while all you can do is whine and moan around his unforgiving cock, Gojo babbles on, “B-better get ready ngh- because I’m gonna be riiiight-” His thick index draws and invisible line up, up, up to somewhere midway up your stomach. Before pressing down. Brandingly. “-here.”

The pressure is enough to have your hips just slamming down with a wet smack! all the way to his hilt. The slap of skin-on-skin rings through the heady air and into both your drunken brains, making him just throw his head back into the plush pillows. 

“Yes-” you’re keening, your fingers wrapping subconsciously around Gojo’s pretty throat to have him facing you once more. He was so gorgeous this way - blue eyes falling shut with pleasure, mouth bitten raw and parted into a soft oh! pale muscles twitching with each breath. So fucked-out already that it almost made you think the sight alone could have you cumming. “Look at me, Toru- hah- gonna make up for lost time, right? Gonna fuck me good?”

His answering nods are more than enough, but Gojo doesn’t just stop there - no, he’s putting in every bit of last strength he has to just hammer into you upwards. Meeting every one of your relentless bounces down on him, he just clashes into your ravaged g-spot.

“Oh yeah, my girl.” he spits, a twinkling trail of drool dripping down the side of his lips. Crushing you so tight to his hardened front, “Ride me- ride me jus’ like that. Fuck- thought I saw heaven on the battlefield but it might jus’ be this pussy-” Over and over.

The back of your hand ends up on his forehead, “I think you’ve got a concussion.” It was in every little touch - that “something stupid.”  

At your surprised giggles, he’s rummaging your insides even more ferociously. Smushing the very end of his thick head against your spongy cervix. It was so soft, so swelteringly hot having him inside you. Clashing in long, wet glides against every inch of your pussy. 

The stretch was dizzying - and if it hadn’t been for Gojo’s lips attacking yours, then you’d have let your head loll backwards. It’s like he was marking you from the inside out, bruising the plushy insides of your cunt to every ridge and thumping vein down his possessive cock. 

“Spit on me.” 

His sudden plea puffs out of his plump lips, startling you out of your cockdrunk little reverie. “Spit on me, please, pretty. Mmpf-”

Gojo whimpers - whimpers - when the thick wad of your saliva hits his pink tongue, and the action has him delving into you impossibly deeper. Planting two feet onto the mattress, he angles his hips into your tight channel even harsher. Grimacing at the slight twinge of pain, “Shit-”

“Toru–”

“Wait wait- please- let me-” Expectedly, he’s cutting you off frantically. Begging, pleading with everything he had before activating reversed curse technique more. “Wanna fuck this gorgeous cunt so bad- fuck fuck fuck-”

But you’re only grinding your hips down faster - all the way from the pretty pink tip of his cock, until your ass massages against his tight, cum-filled balls. Thwacking! against your skin deliciously, pushing you up to scratch your clit against his snowy pubes. 

A few more unapologetic kisses up against your sweet spots have you blinking back stars, “Toru–” Your swiveling motions have him so hypnotized, following every move where his massive cock was disappearing in and out of your snug hole. “Kiss me-”

Oh, you didn’t even have to ask.

It’s such a sloppy kiss - all teeth and lips and Gojo grunting gutturally into your mouth. Letting you just use him like your favorite toy, fucking him until the bed creaked with effort and Gojo’s balls just smacked! angrily.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he whispers. Drinking in your saccharine sweet gasps when he dips down one of his hands to your puffy clit, rolling the soft edge of his thumb in slow, methodical circles. “You’re gonna be the ah- d-death of me.”

Your hand around his throat tightens, making his eyes just roll back in ecstacy. “Better not die on me just y-yet, Toru. Not now, not tomorrow.”

For this, you’re being gifted with such a tight squeeze of his two fingers around your sensitive nub. Wracking your body forwards - exactly where he wanted you, exactly where he needed you to smash his sobbing tip into your g-spot. 

The stimulation is too much, and each of your pressurized slams down onto the sharp bones on Gojo’s v-line have him moaning. Bucking up helplessly whenever your heavenly walls drag sloppily up his shaft, like it hurt to not have each and every one of his heated inches buried inside. 

“Well- then-” You’re riding him now just as much as he was fucking up into you, leaving a damp puddle of slick and dredges of precum on the sheets below. Gojo’s punctuating each word with a harsh battering ram, “Better- cum f’me soon, huh? Because m’not gonna- fuck-” His nagging tip jolts into your sweet spots as if being zapped with white-hot electricity, in such a sloppy staccato with his feverish fingers. “-fuck I don’t think m’gonna last long.”

You’re nodding your head, clinging onto him like a second skin. “Mhm- m’so close, Toru.” Biting down wetly on his lower lip, “-gonna cum soon.”

Just the thought of it has him keening, stuttering up so messily. His precum coats your insides even more slippery slick, so heated in a way he thinks he might just explode. 

“I know, I know, sweetheart–” he’s simpering down in your tone, though his hips were anything but. Letting out some of the lewdest slurps that made your ears ring. “I got you. I got you, cum all over my cock, yeah?”

It only takes a few more mess strokes from both of your sweat-sheened bodies before you finally reach your high. Electricity thrums down your veins, your body arches so deeply into his. Bending into the perfect bow that has him spying down at your quivering folds, the way your gushing cunt expands and contracts through each and every one of your waves of pleasure. 

And he’s fucking you through it so filthy, fingers toying so erratically on your clit. Still reeling, still smashing the very divot of his cock into your bruised g-spot. Again and again.

“Ohh- fuuuck—” Gojo whines, eyes scrunching shut. Strained. Depraved. “Fuck fuck fuck me- please, please m’gonna-”

He doesn’t even get to finish his sentence before he’s stuffing your snug pussy full with ribbon after ribbon of thick, velvety cum. Potent seed coating your gummy walls in such a milky sweet gloss, the squelches from below are so loud. So soppingly wet. 

The hand at your waist moves down to where your poor cunt was just bulging with all inches of his spazzing cock. Gojo’s thumbing apart the corners of your slit just enough that his swelteringly hot cum oozes out of you in a slow trail. Sinful. 

“Oh my god-” he breathes, eyes unwavering. Hips thrusting upwards to push his cum up into you even deeper. It glistens opaquely down his length, forming a creamy ring at his thick base. “Oh my god love you- fuck!”

“Toru- m’so full-” you whine. A hand of yours coming up to press exactly where he had before, except now you could feel the nudging pace of his ruthless cock, the sloshing of Gojo’s seed all up inside you. “-really can feel you right here.”

“Tha’s the point, girl - my girl, should I say.” he’s pressing such a chaste kiss to your lips. And it would be swee - almost - if it wasn’t for the way Gojo’s greedy fingers soak themselves in the obscene mess from your cunt down below. Bringing them all the way up, up, up to his mouth. Suckling gently, “But…but you wanna hear something stupid?”

Your eyes widen, “Wh-what?”

And he only grins,  “I hope you know I love you, sweetheart. Because you sure as hell aren’t walking tomorrow.”

A/N. Can y’all tell I’ve been widowed not too long ago? Anyways, last post before kínktober! I tried posting this on Sunday but it refused to work so pray for me this time y’all *SOBS* <3

Plagiarism not authorized.