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hyabbstay · 2 months ago

Text

just a little bit - c.s.b. & c.y.j.

yeonjun x afab!reader x soobin

genre: smut (minors DO NOT INTERACT!)

content warning: porn without plot, threesome, afab!reader, jun and soob take turns, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (WRAP it before u tap it pLS) oral sex (m & f receiving), masturbation (m), voyeurism, lots of bodily fluids, sloppy seconds, pussy slapping, recording, choi soobin has a big dick, slight objectification, soobin calls reader a slut while yeonjun calls reader sweetheart LOL, lmao yeonjun is more romantic than soob here he might be a little in love, pussydrunk!soob, yeonbin bickering, sexual tension if you squint, probably forgot some just let me know, NOT PROOFREAD it's like 5am here and im tired

wc: 3.1k

song rec: just a little bit by kids of 88 (hello teen wolf fans!)

･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ────── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ────── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.

"That's it, take Yeonjun's cock like a good slut."

"F-fuck," the older man threw his head back at the way you clenched around his girthy cock, hot, slick, and greedy. He rolled his hips into yours, making you cry out through your panties stuffed in your mouth to muffle your moans. "Seriously, we can't just be friends anymore after this - ah - I'll lose my shit thinking about your pussy all day."

From his seat by the dresser, Soobin tightened his grip on his stiff cock, already leaking precum. He watched Yeonjun's cock slam in and out of your pussy. The older man liked to pull out completely, drag his length along your clit until you whined helplessly, then ram it back in, punching a cry out of you. Soobin licked his lips and listened to the symphony of his best friends' sweat slicked skin smacking against each other, the squelches each time Yeonjun's cock pummeled your wet hole, your muffled whining, and Yeonjun's pornographic moans.

Soobin found it delicious to watch, but he couldn't deny he wanted to ruin you just as badly as Yeonjun did, too. Raw you like an animal in heat, abuse your wet pussy and fill it deep, dripping with a mix of his and Yeonjun's hot semen.

You ripped the panties from your mouth and began gasping loudly. Yeonjun could feel your hot cavern pulsate around his length, locking him in a vice-like grip. His hips began to stutter, erratic in his movement. Soobin leaned forward just slightly. He knew what was coming and decided to edge himself a little bit, letting go of his dripping cock. As he slowly licked the slick off of his palm, Soobin suppressed his eyes from rolling back, watching the scandalous scene unfold in front of him.

Yeonjun’s mouth hung open in ecstasy, eyes shut tight, reveling in the sensation of your pussy clenching around him.

“So,” pant, “fucking,” pant, “good.” Your best friend punctuated each word with a powerful thrust, allowing streak after thick streak of cum to coat your walls. You could’ve sworn the intensity of your orgasm drove you insane. Warm and sticky fluid flooded your hole, covering his cock and meeting his release. Your legs and thighs buzzed with pleasure, and your hole felt so raw. The sensation in your womb was both sensual and dirty. So filthy.

“What a filthy slut,” Soobin groaned, sucking in air through clenched teeth. “You like being pounded by your best friend’s cock?”

Lost in pleasure while Yeonjun fucks the remainder of his semen into you, you manage to let out a weak “Yeah.”

The man behind you slows his thrusts and eventually slips out of you. Soobin looks up at him, and they exchange sly looks. Soobin stands up, shucking off the rest of his clothes, leaving his cock proudly on display. You were in huge trouble.

“Wanna make it two of your best friends’ cocks? Gonna let me fill you up with my cum, too?” Soobin leaned in close, eyes dark, and spanked your ass. You screamed in surprise, feeling Yeonjun’s cum drip out of you and onto the sheets.

“Answer me, slut.”

“Y-yes,” you groaned, glassy eyes begging him to cream inside you, “I w-want all your cum in m-my pussy, Bin-ah.”

Yeonjun was spent. He moved to the chair and reached for his phone. You had an inkling of what was going to happen next.

“Jun-ah,” Soobin called while manhandling you onto your back, not caring about the cum that poured out of your hole, “get back here and take a video of your mess first.”

Yeonjun hummed and sauntered over, phone in hand with the flash on. Both men pushed your thighs apart, leaving your dripping snatch exposed. “So wet and full of my cum,” the older man watched the screen closely as three of Soobin’s fingers invaded your hole, fucking the slick back inside. He slapped your pussy, earning a moan from you. Smrking, he did it again, watching the strings of your arousal stretch out as he pulled his hand away. You whined out his name, embarrassed by the wet sounds coming from your folds.

“Bin, I ate her out earlier before you walked in,” Yeonjun smirked. “She’s so fucking tasty, exactly like we imagined.”

Shit, how long have these two been planning to get in your pants? Since you started coming over to their apartment? Since you accidentally flashed them at the pool? That one spin the bottle game where you had to make out with Yeonjun?

Or that incident at the movie theater where you caught Soobin touching himself through his pants during a sex scene? You moaned, remembering that smirk he gave you back then and the way he continued palming his cock.

If you’d gotten the hint back then, you could’ve been cumming on their cocks much sooner.

“‘M gonna eat this pussy out first, dyin’ to taste you.” Soobin hasn’t gotten started yet, but his words slightly slurred together, as if he was already pussydrunk by the thought of drowning in your arousal. He flattened his tongue and licked a fat stripe from your hole to your clit. He hummed as he savored your slick fluids coating his tongue, while you cried out like a bitch in heat. Fuck their neighbors; you were getting the best head of your life tonight.

“Still dripping so much after being used as Junnie’s cumdump?” Soobin tutted, “You’re insatiable.”

His head disappeared between your legs as he began sucking on your hole, as if trying to drink up the filthy mixture of yours and Yeonjun’s cum. You screamed when he stuck his tongue inside and forced the wet muscle to explore your pussy. Yeonjun had to switch hands to hold the camera steady and place the other hand on your abdomen to keep you from thrashing around in pleasure. His best friend was too pussy-drunk to mind you pulling his hair, thirsty for more of his tongue action.

“Y/N’s so greedy,” Yeonjun remarked. “Soobin, wanna teach her a lesson?”

The younger man only responded by withdrawing his tongue and laving it over your clit before sucking wetly.

He scooped up the dripping mix of arousal from your hole and pulled out his soaked digits to hold them up for his friend, all the while keeping his hot tongue on you. Yeonjun hungrily wrapped his plump lips around Soobin’s fingers, suckling on them lightly to get a taste of yours and his own cum. Admittedly, you would’ve enjoyed the erotic scene of the two men if it weren't for Soobin’s relentless attack on your folds. Each stripe that he pressed onto your sensitive snatch brought you closer to the edge.

Yeonjun let go of the other’s fingers with a lewd pop and resumed filming the same fingers plunging inside you again.

The older man watched in amusement, eyes drifting to see your fucked out expression, body covered in sweat from fucking him earlier. You met his piercing gaze. He slowly moved the phone towards you, recording your sorry state for them to beat their cocks to later. Much to your surprise, he delicately brushed a strand of hair away from your sweaty forehead. The loving gesture reminded you for a split second that you were close friends.

Close friends that somehow ended up this way.

The sweet gesture was quickly swept away by the sight of Yeonjun licking his lips. He watched you with blown pupils and spoke.

“Who’s making you feel this good, baby? Hm?” He asked in a low voice, tongue grazing the shell of your ear.

“Y-you!" you moaned, hips grinding into Soobin’s face. His moan sent vibrations through your pussy. “You and S-Soobin-ah! So good I’m gonna cum!”

“Then cum.”

At that, Soobin, who had been carefully tracing little circles on your bundle of nerves, latched his lips onto your clit and resumed his frenzied sucking while pounding his fingers into your slick. He shook his head from side to side, the movement intensifying the rough drag of his tongue on you. The salacious squelching, lewd moans, and smell of sex permeated the air again. You screamed brokenly while creaming all over his mouth. Yeonjun held the camera right above the both of you, capturing the sexual act in all its glory.

You tried to make eye contact with the camera, but Soobin’s persistent licking at your spent folds kept your eyes rolling back so much you thought they would get stuck that way.

You came down from your high, and Soobin polished off his meal, greedily sucking every last drop from your hole and his own fingers. Fuck, your best friends could keep your legs twitching for days on end. You wouldn’t mind that one bit.

Damn, you need both of them in you.

Soobin was a mess. His bangs stuck to his forehead from the sweat and juices on his face, but his gaze was eager, showing no signs of fatigue from your earlier activities.

“Time for my cock, babe. Take it like the slut you are, alright? I’ll make it fit.” He gripped his length and pumped it, lining it up with your hole before entering you.

The stretch was incredible. Without a doubt, he was thicker than Yeonjun. It was as if you felt every ridge, every vein that bulged from his dick as he sank further and further into you. When he bottomed out, Soobin could hardly hold himself back from pulling back and slamming in.

Embarrassingly, you heard the squelch of your juices as Soobin adjusted his position while you got accustomed to the size of his cock.

“Fuck,” he groaned “Gonna fuck you stupid on my cock, slut.”

And he began pummeling into you a lot more forcefully than Yeonjun did. His technique was desperate, messy, and a little insane. You had half a mind to be a little scared that he might break you.

“Fuck! S’big and so good, Soobin!”

Still sensitive, you moaned out his name. He satisfied his oral fixation by sealing his lips over your tit, moaning into your burning flesh. His thrusts were fast and harsh, barely giving you time to breathe, so you had no choice but to bask in the sensation of Soobin’s dick abusing your pussy.

The wet sounds of your skin meeting were also affecting Yeonjun, who began groaning like a pornstar again. His other hand traveled to his now fully hard cock and began stroking again, his eyes flickering between the scene recorded on the screen and reality. The older man fixed his gaze on the sight of you and Soobin’s hips meeting. He watched it all—the way his cock disappeared into your cunt, the wetness that accumulated around his friends’ lower halves as you both kept meeting each other's thrusts.

The way Soobin speared you on his cock like a toy, he treated you like his personal cumdump. He released your tits from his mouth and joined Yeonjun in watching his dick plunging into your heat, each time emerging a lot wetter than the last.

In between pants, Soobin said something that made you clench harder around his pulsating length, “Yeonjunnie, fuck her mouth. Make her take both of us at once.”

At least Yeonjun had the decency to ask you, “Would you like that, baby? Want me to cum down your throat, too?”

Halfway through a moan, you nodded furiously. It took too much energy to form coherent words, but you tried for him.

“P-please,” you choked out, “Wan’ it in my m-mouth.”

“Good girl,” Yeonjun praised, positioning your head so you hung slightly from the edge of the bed. You watched with lidded eyes as he collected his arousal from the tip with the hand that wasn’t holding the phone and stroked himself with it. He tapped his veiny cock against your waiting lips. “Gonna pump my cum down your throat now, beautiful.”

Eagerly, you wrapped your lips around the older man’s tip, giving it a little suck before allowing him to thrust the rest of his length down your hot mouth. Both the taste of your cum and his from earlier still lingered on his skin, and you moaned around him as you realized this. You took into your hands what your mouth couldn’t take, twisting them while relaxing your muscles to take him deeper.

Yeonjun barely captured your sinful position on camera before he dropped his phone, sending it clattering to the floor.

They should really set up a tripod next time.

Next time.

He quickly became erratic in his movements. He couldn’t believe his wettest, wildest dreams came true tonight. He threw his head back in ecstasy while you swallowed him whole, sweat running down his chest and the sides of his face.

Fuck, fuck, and what if he looked at his best friend right now-

Soobin, still pummeling relentlessly into your battered cunt, stared right back at him. They held eye contact while thrusting into both your holes, chests heaving from the pleasure that drowned their hot bodies and addled their lust-ridden minds. For them, nothing else existed in this moment except for the sound of their skin repeatedly coming in contact with your holes, the squelch of juices and spit, the scent of sex, the buzz that lit their lower halves on fire, and the humid air that sent perspiration dripping down their bodies to your equally spent one.

“Think you can last longer than me, Jun-ah?” The younger challenged, pulling out almost completely then slamming back into you forcefully. You whined around Yeonjun’s cock.

“Huh,” the older huffed, “I’ll even let her ride me after this, then I’ll fuck her in front of that mirror Y/N and I bought together over there.”

Soobin spared the dirty floor-length mirror a glance, “Yeah? You’re nasty. I could guess how many times your conceited ass came all over that thing.”

Yeonjun’s hand found its way to your throat, groaning when he saw the slight outline of his cock. “You’re nastier, Bin-ah. You hide Y/N’s sweaters whenever she comes over and cum all over them at night, dirty perv.”

Again, you let out another moan and desperately humped against Soobin’s hips, trying to get his dick deeper into you. All the dirty confessions they’re making in front of you made you gush out more juices. Soobin clicked his tongue and suddenly pulled out of you, taking a moment to appreciate the sticky strings of arousal that connected his member to your cunt. You whined at the loss of contact and Yeonjun was quick to thrust that down your throat again.

Meanwhile, Soobin pushed your knees up to your chest and aligned his cock with your entrance.

“Little slut wants more?” He sneered, “I’ll give you more, then. We’ve got all night.”

He sheathed his cock in the deepest he could go, invading your folds once more and pushing your juices in. Soobin let out the hottest, most desperate moan he’s made so far and began panting again. His hips moved at a rapid pace, causing clear-white fluid to form around where the base of his cock and your pussy met. You could feel the wetness spread further on your thighs and pour onto Yeonjun’s sheets.

The older man watched this development greedily, pulling out of you momentarily to give you room to rest and moan loudly as Soobin abused your leaking hole. Seeking leverage, you felt around until your hand found Yeonjun’s thigh. He grabbed your tits, pinching your nipples and rolling them in his fingers, causing them to harden. You sobbed, grasping at his thigh tighter.

“Yeonjunnie,” you gasped, “c-cock…”

He quickly complied, pushing his hips back into your mouth to receive the pleasure your tongue and cheeks gave him.

You moaned around Yeonjun’s cock, but you could hear the latter scoff at the statement.

Soobin delivered a harsh slap to your ass, making you impossibly tighter, your juices and tightness simultaneously sucking him in and pushing him out.

“Fuck, baby, your cunt’s so greedy ‘n hot.” He groaned, “Gonna stuff this pussy day and night so it’ll never be empty, you like that?”

It’s always a competition between these two, you thought.

“I’m close, sweetheart,” Yeonjun panted, pushing back his sweaty hair to bask in the feeling of you swallowing his dick. “Take it like the good girl you are, hm? Give me another thing to think about every night.”

Soobin’s mouth hung open in pleasure, but he still had the energy to roll his eyes at the older man. He began to indulge you in more dirty talk.

“What a complete slut. Already came around Junnie and me several times but can still give us more, hm? Gonna fucking pound this pussy until all you can cum around is our cocks, right?”

He laid his palm on your abdomen and used his thumb to draw figures on your clit. You keened.

Coupled with his erratic thrusts, thumb motions, and Yeonjun’s fingers on your pebbled nipples, you were suddenly flooded with a white-hot pleasure. Your body thrashed around to no avail as your two best friends held you in place.

The three of you were a sight to behold. Yeonjun’s cock twitched in your mouth, and he released thick spurts of cum in you as you moaned around him, letting him coat your tongue with his essence. You did your best to swallow, although you began to choke from the pleasure Soobin was giving you below.

The younger man ruthlessly snapped his hips into your wetness, ropes of cum shooting into your hole and kissing your cervix for the second time that night, filling you up with his hot semen. His moans came from deep within his chest, and you found that incredibly hot. You couldn’t see his face but imagined his blissed-out expression from emptying his balls in you.

In the middle if it all, your cunt met Soobin’s cum with your own, clenching uncontrollably while struggling to take in the semen Yeonjun spilled in your mouth. Each spurt into both your holes brought you closer to blacking out from the sheer pleasure.

The three of you relished in the sounds and sensations of your orgasms, the room a mess of moans and cries and squelches. Once they pulled out, your exhausted bodies went slack. Both men fell to either side of you on the bed, heaving deep breaths. Still abuzz with the effects of your orgasm, you became aware of yours and Soobin’s cum seeping out of your abused pussy. You could still feel the warm cum smeared on your chin, courtesy of Yeonjun.

On your left, the culprit quietly laughed and reached over to stroke your hair, “That was intense, baby. You okay?” he whispered, “Soobin did a number on you.”

You grinned weakly, “Says the one who first pulled me in here to eat me out.”

“Hey,” Soobin suddenly said, “We should do this again.”

“How soon?” Yeonjun smirked, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

You felt Soobin’s hand on your thigh, getting closer to your still-sensitive core.

There’s your answer.

#txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #tomorrow x together #choi soobin x reader #choi soobin smut #soobin hard hours #soobin hard thoughts #txt smut #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun hard thoughts #yeonjun hard hours #yeonjun smut #choi yeonjun smut #choi yeonjun x reader #soobin smut #hyabbstay timestamps

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joemama-2 · 5 days ago

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velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation wc: 13.8k spotify playlist series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

The sounds of heavy pants fill the room, one more ragged than the other. The bedframe hits against the wall in a repetitive thump, the bedsheets a mess. The sunlight is peeking through the curtains with an occasional moan and urge for him to move faster. Himari’s arms are wrapped around the neck of the man, her legs tight around his waist. Face scrunching up in pleasure as she indulges in the fact that she’s having sex with another man in her boyfriend’s bed. Work is the excuse he gave her after she asked to come over. Of course, she didn’t believe him—she’s finding it harder to do that nowadays.

Either way, she decided to come in, knowing he kept a spare key under his doormat. Walking through the empty penthouse, her fingers running across the white walls as she stalked to Satoru’s room. A bad mistake on her end because as soon as she did, that bitter coil of jealousy sprung free. A stupid fucking picture frame of the people who are actively ruining her life and her relationship. She gripped it with tight hands, almost throwing it to the ground in a fit of fury.

Well, she did do that, actually.

But even after seeing the glass shards spread out across the floor, stomping on the picture of you and that fucking kid—leaving an obvious footprint on it—it didn’t quell her growing emotions. It didn’t make her feel better, if anything—it made her feel even worse. And she was suddenly struck with the idea of making Satoru feel every inch of pain he’d been causing her the past month or so. He’s not even here, but maybe she can leave him a nice cum stain on his sheets. How furious he’ll be when he discovers that she’s being intimate with someone else, that another man’s semen is stained on his bed. The thought alone makes her hornier, nails digging into the back of the man hovering above her as he plunges in and out of her tight hole. A nasty smile forms on her lips.

“You know,” Sukuna’s gruff voice speaks into her ear. “I’ve had better. I’m only doing this to make your boyfriend pissed off.”

Himari’s eyes snap open, his words putting a small halt to her daydreaming. She’s met with an equally vicious smile—one that lacks warmth completely. “Fuck you,” she snaps, jaw clenching.

“Yeah, you are.” He presses his large hand down on her mouth. “Now be quiet, your voice is one of the worst things I’ve ever heard.”

If only she picked a better candidate. If possible, he’s beginning to piss her off more than Satoru himself. Though she should’ve expected that, considering her boyfriend hates him and vice versa. But if Satoru found out she had sex with his business rival behind his back, he’d realize just how much he’d let her slip from his hands. And of course, he’ll fuck her to make up for it. Yes. Yes. Yes.

That’s it.

She moves her gaze away from Sukuna, staring up at the ceiling in utter bliss at the possible future. She feels her climax rising up within her gut, clenching around his thick cock. Smiling against his palm as his thrusts quicken, a shuddering grunt escaping his lips. He must be close too. She can practically taste it on her tongue. Her eyes move down from the ceiling, over to the broken glass and photograph still on the floor, then over to her boyfriend’s hamper of dirty clothes, his cologne on his dresser, his collection of glasses, and then…

The calendar that’s right above his dresser.

The days are crossed off with an ‘x’ in black marker. But one thing catches her attention—and subsequently stops her climax, but not Sukuna’s.

January 5th.

Two days from now.

Dad appreciation day!! ♡ 2pm

Her anger from before swivels back up, raging inside her petite body with an unforeseen strength. She snatches her phone from the bedside table without a second thought, not minding the way Sukuna carelessly pulls out and dumps his warm load on her stomach. Her thumb moves fast, tapping down a few times before lifting it to her ear. It rings just once before the respondent answers.

“Daddy, I need your help.”

“Soooo……”

Shoko sips from her coffee, auburn eyes constantly going from one face to the other—one visibly more clenched than the other. She taps her foot against the floor, the cozy feel of the cafe doing nothing to diminish the awkwardly tense situation between her and her two best friends. Well, just her friends, actually. Satoru—in all his glory—is shameless. Glaring daggers at Suguru, who sits beside Shoko. It’s a wonder that the coffee cup in his hand hasn’t popped. Silently tensing his jaw, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue. And Suguru…seems to be taking it well? Focusing on his own cup of tea, sparing a glance back up at the man across from him before looking away.

It’s never quiet between the two. And if it is, that means something happened. From the look on their faces—their demeanor—it must’ve been something serious. After a few more suffocating minutes, she sets her cup down and clears her throat. “Did…something happen?”

“No.” is Suguru’s immediate response.

That earns a loud scoff from the other side of the table. “Yeah, keep lying.” The sarcasm in his voice is loud.

Shoko raises a brow, leaning back in her chair as she folds her arms. “Okay, well, clearly something happened. Want to clue me in, or should I just keep sipping my coffee while you two have a silent pissing contest?”

Suguru sighs, running a hand through his hair, looking as though he’s already regretting being here. “It’s nothing important, Shoko.”

Satoru clicks his tongue, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table, his blue eyes gleaming with irritation. “Nothing important? That’s what we’re calling it now? Really, Suguru?”

Suguru finally meets Satoru’s gaze, his calm demeanor slipping just a fraction. “Yeah. Nothing important. Unless you want to blow this completely out of proportion, as usual.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Satoru snaps, his voice dripping with contempt. “Forgive me for being a little pissed when my best friend crosses a line.”

Shoko’s eyes widen slightly, her gaze darting between them. “Crosses a line? Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. What line are we talking about here?”

Neither man answers immediately, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a knife. Finally, Suguru sets his cup down, exhaling slowly. “Shoko, it’s not worth discussing.”

“Not worth discussing?” Satoru’s voice rises slightly, his tone incredulous. “Oh, it’s worth discussing. You want to talk about loyalty, about respect—”

“Enough, Satoru.” Suguru’s voice is firm, but there’s an undercurrent of guilt that Shoko doesn’t miss.

“Shut the hell up.” Satoru snaps, leaning forward, his sunglasses slipping just slightly down his nose. He looks every bit like he’s ready to leap across the table. “Why don’t you tell her, Suguru? Or should I?”

“Tell me what?” Shoko interjects, her voice rising slightly in pitch. She’s starting to look more amused than concerned, though there’s still an edge of apprehension in her tone. “Seriously, you two are acting like kids.”

Suguru exhales sharply, rubbing a hand down his face, his usual composure beginning to crack. “Nothing happened. It’s not a big deal. Satoru’s just—”

“Pissed,” Satoru finishes for him, voice icy. “And you know damn well why.”

Shoko leans forward, resting her chin in her hand, her sharp eyes narrowing in thought. “Alright. Spill. Someone better tell me what the hell is going on before I throw this coffee at both of you.”

Suguru looks at her, then glances at Satoru, who’s still radiating pure anger. He finally lets out a resigned sigh. “It’s nothing, Shoko. Just a…misunderstanding.”

Satoru barks out a humorless laugh. “A misunderstanding? Is that what we’re calling it now?”

Shoko blinks, her lips twitching as though she’s fighting off a grin. “Satoru, I’m begging you—use your words. What misunderstanding?”

Satoru turns his gaze back to Suguru, his voice dropping low. “Ask him why he thought it was okay to cross a fucking line.”

Shoko’s eyebrows shoot up, and for the first time, she looks genuinely intrigued. “Okay. What kind of line did you cross, Suguru?”

Suguru doesn’t answer, his gaze firmly fixed on his tea. Satoru, however, doesn’t hesitate. “The kind where you go after someone you know isn’t yours to have.”

“She’s not yours either, Satoru.” Suguru mumbles under his breath with exasperation.

Shoko’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh,” she breathes, the weight of the situation sinking in. “I see.” She looks at Suguru, her expression unreadable. “Care to defend yourself?”

Suguru’s jaw tightens, but he finally speaks, his tone even, though there’s an undercurrent of frustration. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Bullshit!” Satoru snaps, his voice raising enough to earn a few glances from other patrons in the café. “Don’t act like you don’t know what you were doing.”

Suguru doesn’t reply.

“Oh, no way.” Shoko leans forward, pointing a finger between them. “Did you—? And you—? Oh, you guys are so messed up.”

Satoru gestures dramatically toward Suguru. “See? Even Shoko gets it. You don’t mess with someone’s—”

“I didn’t mess with anyone,” Suguru interrupts, his tone sharp but not defensive. “And you’re blowing this out of proportion. Again.”

“I’ll fucking show you—”

“Satoru,” Shoko says sharply, placing a hand on his arm. “Relax. Let him talk.”

Suguru looks at her briefly, gratitude flickering in his eyes before he returns his focus to Satoru. “I wasn’t trying to take anything away from you. I’m not. It just…I know I’m not innocent, Satoru.” He meets his best friend’s eyes, lips thinned with sympathy.

That doesn’t deter Satoru. “Then why are you acting like you are? Lying to my face still, too.”

“Satoru, I’m sorry. I apologized a thousand times already. What more can I do?”

For a moment, Satoru looks like he’s going to lose it, but Shoko’s firm grip on his arm keeps him grounded. She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Okay, clearly this isn’t going to be solved here. So how about you two go outside, punch it out or whatever, and then come back when you’re ready to act like adults?” Neither of them responds immediately, tension crackling in the air between them. Shoko groans and shakes her head, her gaze shifting between them once more. “So, what I’m hearing is that one of you fucked up, and now I’m stuck playing therapist again. Great. Just great.”

Her tone turns serious, arms crossing over her chest. “Just…tell me what happened. No cryptic bullshit. I want the full story, or I’m walking out of here and leaving you two to sulk in your man-pain alone.”

Satoru breaks the silence first, his voice cutting through the tension. “Fine. You want the full story?” He glares at Suguru, who remains stoic, then turns his gaze to Shoko. “He decided it’d be a great idea to get too close to Y/N. Closer than he should’ve.”

Suguru’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t respond immediately.

Shoko blinks, her hand pausing mid-air as she sets her coffee cup down. “Define ‘too close.’ Because I swear, if this is some petty jealousy thing, I’m not wasting my time refereeing it.”

Satoru leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “How about almost kissing her? Does that sound like jealousy, Shoko?”

Her eyes widen, and she slowly turns to Suguru, whose calm façade is starting to crack. “Seriously?” she asks, her tone a mix of disbelief and disappointment. “Suguru, seriously?”

“It wasn’t like that,” Suguru says quietly but firmly. He rubs his temple, looking uncharacteristically worn down. “Things got complicated. She was upset, I was trying to comfort her—it wasn’t planned. It just happened. I messed up”

“Yeah, I’m sure it just happened,” Satoru retorts, his voice laced with venom. “Because comforting someone obviously involves leaning in like you’re about to—”

“Satoru, enough.” Suguru’s voice rises, his calm exterior shattering for a moment. “It didn’t happen, okay? Nothing happened. And it wasn’t about betraying you. It was about her. About what she’s going through. But of course, you only see it as some kind of attack on you.”

Shoko raises a hand, her eyes narrowing. “Okay, okay, time out. This is spiraling. Suguru, I get that you were trying to help, but you have to see how this would look to Satoru. And Satoru, you need to stop acting like this is just about you and your ego. Y/N’s a person, not a prize to be fought over.”

Suguru closes his eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose as though he’s dealing with a headache. “It just wasn’t like that. She was upset, and things got…misinterpreted. It wasn’t intentional.”

“Misinterpreted?” Satoru’s voice is cold, his usually playful tone replaced with something venomous. “You don’t ‘accidentally’ lean in for a kiss, Suguru. Don’t act like you’re blameless.”

Satoru’s fists clench on the table, his knuckles white as he continues. “And she won’t let me be there for her! She shuts me out, Shoko, every single time. And then she turns to him—” He gestures angrily toward Suguru. “Like I’m some kind of goddamn afterthought.”

Suguru’s voice is quiet, but there’s a weight to it that makes both Shoko and Satoru pause. “She turned to me because she needed someone who wasn’t going to make it about themselves. Maybe you should think about that.”

Satoru slams his hand on the table, making the cups rattle. “Don’t you dare turn this around on me! You think I don’t see what you’re doing? You’ve been waiting for a chance like this—”

“Enough!” Shoko’s voice cuts through the argument like a blade, her usual calm demeanor replaced with rare frustration. “Both of you need to shut up for two seconds and think about what you’re doing. Fighting over Y/N like she’s some kind of prize? Do you have any idea how shitty that is? To her, and to yourselves?”

The men fall silent again, though Satoru’s glare doesn’t soften, and Suguru looks away, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. Shoko sighs, rubbing her temples. “You’re both being idiots. Y/N’s going through her own stuff right now, and you’re sitting here making it about your egos. Maybe try putting her first for once instead of playing this stupid tug-of-war.”

Suguru nods slightly, his expression unreadable. Satoru stays silent, his jaw clenched, the storm in his eyes still brewing.

Shoko rubs her eyes and looks at Suguru. “First off, why was she upset?”

He picks at his nail, brows knitting together. “I don’t know. She didn’t tell me. I’m assuming it’s whatever happened when she went out.”

“She went out with a Zenin.”

The revelation shocks both Shoko and Suguru. They look back at their friend, his expression tight, focusing on his own clenched fists. “I saw the car that picked her up.”

“Which Zenin?” Suguru asks, leaning forward.

“Only one prick drives a flashy Maybach like that.” Shoko sighs, and Suguru shakes his head—running his hands through his hair. Satoru continues. “I didn’t even know she knew him. How the hell does she even—” he cuts himself off with a heavy groan, rubbing his face up and down. The weight of everything that’s happening, the fact that you went out with Naoya and supposedly another friend, then you come back about to kiss Suguru, and he makes you cry by yelling in your face and saying shit he probably shouldn’t have. “Jesus…I can’t get a fucking break.”

Shoko exhales sharply, crossing her arms as her gaze flickers between Satoru and Suguru. "Naoya Zenin? That guy? Are you serious?"

Suguru leans back in his chair, his lips pressing into a thin line. "What the hell would she even want with someone like him?"

"That’s what I’d like to know," Satoru snaps, his voice sharper than intended. His hands tug through his hair in frustration, his mind spiraling. "I mean, she’s not…stupid. She wouldn’t just—"

"She wouldn’t," Shoko interrupts, her tone calm but firm. "But you of all people should know she doesn’t make these kinds of decisions lightly. If she was with Naoya, there’s probably a reason. Maybe she needed something, or maybe—"

"Or maybe I pushed her into it," Satoru mutters, his voice dropping. His hands drop to his lap, and for the first time since sitting down, he looks genuinely deflated. "I’ve been so caught up in my own bullshit…I haven’t been there for her. Not the way I should be. And now she’s turning to guys like him."

Suguru narrows his eyes, his jaw tightening. "You don’t know that for sure. Just because she was in his car doesn’t mean she’s 'turning to' him. Don’t assume the worst."

"But what else am I supposed to think?" Satoru bites back, his tone rising again. "She won’t talk to me, Suguru. She shuts me out. And when she finally does open up to someone, it’s you, or—or some Zenin asshole—"

"Stop," Shoko cuts in, her voice hard. "Seriously, stop spiraling. You’re not helping anyone by sitting here making this about your insecurities. If you care about her—and I mean really care—you’re going to have to do better than this."

Satoru opens his mouth to retort but stops short, his gaze falling to the table.

"Look," Shoko continues, her voice softening, "I get that you’re upset. And yeah, the Naoya thing is…weird. But the only way you’re going to fix this is by talking to her. Not Suguru, not me—her. Get your shit together and figure it out."

Satoru finds it hard to speak, a weird lump forming in his throat. Nails digging into his palms and feeling his heart rate begin to pick up. Figure it out? That’s easier said than done. Not to mention the fact that he’s probably the last person you want to see right now. Nothing seems right right now. He’s not sure what he could even begin to say to you to discuss the things you both desperately need to discuss. And when he looks back over at Suguru, the surge of jealousy—anger springs up again. How can he talk to you? Is it worth even trying to? What will change? He doesn’t…have you.

Suguru gives Satoru a face of regret. “Satoru, I��I’m sorry. Really, I am. I was stupid, I know. She was drunk, vulnerable and I—I let her…..” Suguru’s words trail off, his voice cracking with uncharacteristic hesitation. He looks down at his tea, gripping the cup so tightly it seems like it might shatter. “I let her…cross a line. I should’ve stopped her. I didn’t mean to make things worse.”

Satoru’s jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing as his fists clench harder. “Damn right, you should’ve stopped her,” he snaps, venom lacing his tone. “You’re supposed to have my back, not—” He stops, inhaling sharply as he tries to get a grip on his rising anger. “Forget it. It doesn’t even matter now.”

“It does matter,” Suguru insists, leaning forward slightly. “You think I don’t know how bad I screwed up? I hate that I hurt you, but Satoru, this isn’t just about me or you. It’s about her. She was falling apart the other night, and I should’ve done more to help instead of making things worse.”

Satoru glares at him, his icy blue eyes blazing with barely restrained fury. “You think saying sorry fixes this? That it fixes anything?” His voice drops, quieter but more cutting. “She was falling apart, and instead of helping, you let her…what? Kiss you?”

Suguru’s silence speaks volumes, and the tension between them becomes almost suffocating.

Shoko sighs heavily, dragging a hand down her face. “Alright, enough,” she says firmly, her voice cutting through the thick tension like a knife. “This isn’t helping anyone. Satoru, you’re pissed—fine. You have every right to be. Suguru, you’re guilty—good, you should be. But sitting here throwing blame back and forth isn’t going to solve anything. What matters is what happens next.”

“What happens next?” Satoru echoes bitterly, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “What’s next, Shoko? I just walk up to her, pour my heart out, and hope she doesn’t slam the door in my face?”

“Maybe,” Shoko says simply, shrugging as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Or maybe you start with an apology. A real one. Not one of your half-assed, sarcastic ones. And maybe you listen to her for once instead of jumping to conclusions or trying to control the narrative.”

Satoru looks away, his jaw clenching again as he processes her words. Deep down, he knows she’s right. He’s been so caught up in his own emotions, his own insecurities, that he hasn’t stopped to think about how you feel or what you need. But fuck is it going to be hard. Truth is, he doesn’t want you turning to other men for comfort, he just….

Suguru clears his throat, drawing Satoru’s attention back to him. “For what it’s worth,” he says quietly, “I think she still cares about you. She wouldn’t be this upset if she didn’t.”

The words hit Satoru like a gut punch, and for a moment, all he can do is stare at his best friend. The anger, the jealousy, the guilt—it all swirls inside him, threatening to overwhelm him. But somewhere beneath it all, there’s a flicker of hope. “I’ll…talk to her,” he says finally, his voice low but resolute. “I don’t know how, or what I’m even going to say, but I’ll figure it out.”

Shoko smiles faintly, picking up her coffee again. “Good. Because if you don’t, I will. And trust me, you don’t want that.”

For the first time that morning, Satoru lets out a small, humorless chuckle. It’s not much, but it’s a start. Satoru peeks over at Suguru, the two sharing a silent look of understanding. One that says he’s not off the hook yet, but that there’s other fish to fry.

You’re biting your nail nervously. Darting back to check the time before at your excited five-year-old who is jumping around happily in the living room watching his show. You let him pick out his own outfit for today, a red shirt with white letters that spell ‘MOMMA’S BOY’ and simple black jeans with his vans. His hair is styled in a way that he said resembles his Papa. you grinned in melancholy at that, giving your son the hairstyle he wanted. You, yourself, are dressed simply. Dark jeans with a turtleneck—a savior in the coldness it is today. Your coat and shoes are already on, your purse slung over your shoulder, and yet you haven’t left yet. You feel bad to—waiting on a certain someone. Koji has been asking about his father since he woke up, boasting about how he can’t wait to show him off to his friends today and when he is coming.

Leaning against the kitchen counter, your thoughts are drowning you. When you hear your phone ring, you’re on it in an instant. Though you’re met with another man’s name. Letting out a deep breath and pressing accept. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Suguru’s voice replies. “Sorry, you busy right now?”

“Uh—” you glance at the clock. “I can spare a few minutes.”

He sighs and adjusts himself. “Good, this will be quick. I don’t want to hold you up too much.”

“Is something wrong?” you reply, biting your lip.

He takes a moment to respond, heaving and exhaling through the receiver. “Look, Y/N. I…I just want to apologize for the other night. Really, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you like that and I should’ve…stopped you. I’m sorry.”

Your mouth parts, startled by the fact that he felt the need to apologize. Classic Suguru. You clear your throat. “I–no. It’s okay. It’s…that was on me. I’m sorry.”

“You were drunk and emotional, I should’ve been the person to put a halt to things.”

You can’t help but almost grimace at the way he sounds so….regretful—maybe appalled? Was the thought of kissing you…really that bad for him to stomach? With a hum back to him, you notice the time cutting closer—scratching your head.

“And…and I think it’s best if I—if we—put a little more…distance between each other. It wouldn’t be right for that situation to happen again, or for us to get close like that. It’s disrespectful to Satoru and I don’t want to tarnish my friendship with him like that. I’m sorry.”

You feel your heart drop into your stomach as his words hang heavily in the air. The way Suguru's voice cracks with such sincerity—it makes the reality of the situation feel even worse. He’s being careful, trying to fix something that feels irreparably broken, but you can’t stop the rush of emotions that flood you. A strange lump forms in your throat as you exhale softly, gripping the edge of the counter harder. Your mind races, trying to catch up to his apology, the weight of his words sinking in deeper.

You almost feel like laughing—bitterly, of course—but you hold back. “Suguru, I… I understand,” you finally manage, though the words feel inadequate in this moment. “I never wanted to put you in that position, either. It was a mistake, and I—I don’t know what I was thinking. But you’re right. I shouldn’t have let things go that far.”

The silence that stretches between you two now feels uncomfortable. There’s no easy way to navigate this, no graceful way out of this mess that you’ve all somehow ended up in. It’s like standing in the middle of a battlefield, and the war is only just beginning. You still can’t deny the pang of hurt that strikes through you, feeling a small sense of irritation at the sole fact he’s doing this all for Satoru—for his friend. Sure, they’re best friends and whatnot, but why can’t someone do something for you for once? Why is it that the one person who’s been showing you nothing but patience, hospitality, and understanding is pulling himself back for him? Is it selfish to feel hurt by the fact that you almost feel forced to put up with everything alone?

“I should've been stronger,” you continue quietly, your voice trembling just slightly. “I’m sorry, Suguru. For all of it.”

He sighs again, as if the apology means something to him, but also knowing it doesn't fix anything. “I don’t blame you, Y/N. I really don’t. I just—this situation is complicated, and I’m trying to be the right kind of person here. For Satoru, for you, for all of us.”

You can feel the distance he's trying to place between you both, even if it's an unspoken agreement. A part of you wants to argue, to tell him that things are never as clear-cut as he’s trying to make them, that Satoru doesn’t deserve anything. But your head spins, and you're not sure if you can find the right words anymore. You just feel... drained. There’s a brief, awkward pause as you try to find something else to say, something to make this feel less painful.

"I'll let you go," Suguru says after a beat, sensing that you're running out of words. "I just wanted to clear the air before you see him again. Please don’t take this the wrong way, Y/N, but I think it’s better if we step back from this... from everything, for a while."

You nod slowly, eyes feeling glossy, even though he can’t see it. "Okay."

"Take care of yourself," he says quietly before hanging up.

The phone feels heavier in your hand as you lower it. You glance over to Koji, who's still happily hopping around, completely oblivious to the storm that just hit. Well, there goes that. A scoff sounds out, hovering above the kitchen sink—hands gripping the edge of the counter. You just keep fucking things up, don’t you? Driving others away because you don’t know when to stop. Your breath catches in your throat, and you blink away the sting in your eyes. Koji’s laughter fills the space around you, innocent and unaware of the weight on your shoulders. You glance down at the phone in your hand, feeling a mix of anger, confusion, and an overwhelming sense of loss. Suguru’s words replay in your head like a broken record, his apology, the distance he’s imposing, the way he’s doing all of this for Satoru. For his friendship.

You almost want to scream, to tell him that this isn’t about his damn loyalty to Satoru, but about what you’ve been through and the mess that’s been made of your life. But all you can do is swallow it down as if your voice has been stolen from you. You run a hand through your hair, peering up at Koji again. He’s still bouncing around, full of excitement for the day ahead. He doesn’t deserve this. You promised him a better life, a life free from the kinds of complicated messes you’ve been tangled in for too long. But all of it��Satoru, Suguru, and you—feels like a web you can’t escape. The knots grow tighter the more you try to get out. “Momma?” Koji’s voice pulls you from your thoughts, and you meet his bright eyes. “Is Papa coming now?”

You freeze, your breath caught in your chest. The question makes everything hit you all at once. That aching emptiness. The truth you’ve been avoiding. Satoru probably isn’t even coming today. He’s too busy, too wrapped up in his own world. You know it. Koji doesn’t. You take a slow, deep breath, and then force a smile onto your lips, trying to ignore the heaviness that settles in your chest. “Not yet, sweetie,” you say softly, walking over to him and kneeling down to his level. “Papa’s just finishing up some work, okay? We’ll get to see him soon, I promise.”

Koji looks at you with wide eyes, tilting his head. “But you said… you said we were going together.”

You swallow, forcing the tightness in your throat to subside. “I know, honey. But sometimes grown-ups get really busy. I’m sure he’ll be ready when we get there. Let’s go grab a snack, yeah?”

He nods, his usual energy coming back, though you can see the hint of confusion still lingering in his eyes. As he grabs your hand and pulls you toward the kitchen, you let the smile on your face fade just enough to let the tears you’ve been holding back fall, your back turned to him so he can’t see. The phone call with Suguru still stings, leaving an empty feeling in your chest that refuses to go away. You wanted more than this. You wanted things to be different. But life never really seems to work out that way. As much as you want to deny it, the reality of it all is starting to sink in: you’re alone in this.

Koji’s classroom is buzzing with energy when you arrive, filled with laughter, excited chatter, and the occasional squeak of sneakers against the polished wooden floors. Decorations hang from the ceiling—paper streamers in bright colors, hand-drawn posters that read Happy Dad Appreciation Day! in crayon-scrawled letters, and a long banner strung up at the front of the room welcoming all the fathers. Koji practically bounces beside you, his tiny hand gripping yours as his eyes sweep over the room in search of one person. The excitement radiates off him in waves, and your stomach knots. You already know what’s coming.

“Where’s Papa?” he asks, his voice filled with anticipation as he looks up at you with those big, innocent eyes.

You force a smile, tightening your hold on his hand. “He’s coming, baby,” you say softly. “Let’s go find your seat, okay?”

Koji nods, trusting you without question, and it makes your chest ache. You lead him toward the small tables arranged in clusters, where children are already showing off handmade cards and crafts to their fathers. The sight is enough to make your throat tighten—dads kneeling beside their kids, laughing, ruffling their hair, lifting them up in tight hugs, mothers off to the side, and mingling with each other. Koji plops down at his designated spot, a small desk with his name written on a blue name tag. In front of him sits a paper he decorated himself, a drawing of you, him, and Satoru, all holding hands beneath a bright sun. The word FAMILY is scribbled across the top in uneven letters. Your eyes linger on the drawing for a moment too long.

“Koji!” One of his classmates, a boy with a missing front tooth, runs up to him. “Is your dad here yet?”

Koji perks up immediately, glancing around again before shaking his head. “Not yet, but he’s coming!” His smile is unwavering, full of pure belief, and it only makes your heart squeeze tighter.

“Oh, really? My Daddy is here already.” The young boy comments, head tilting in curiosity. His eyes graze over to you. “Only your Mommy is here?”

Koji nods. “Mhm! But my Papa is coming soon.”

“Stop lying,” another boy walks up to the mix, arms crossed with a smile.

Koji’s brows furrow, his small hands balling into fists at his sides. “I’m not lying!” he insists, his voice firm but laced with a hint of uncertainty. He glances up at you for reassurance, and you give him a small, encouraging smile.

The boy shrugs, clearly unfazed. “Then where is he?”

Koji puffs out his chest. “He’s coming! He’s just busy.”

Another child, a girl with pigtails, leans in curiously. “Busy with what?”

Koji hesitates, his fingers twitching as he struggles to come up with an answer. Before he can respond, the classroom door swings open, and more fathers step in, greeted by excited squeals and hugs from their kids. Koji watches, his eager eyes flitting toward the door each time it opens, only for his shoulders to drop when it’s never the person he’s hoping for. The children look back at Koji, expecting an answer. You clear your throat and regard them. “Koji’s dad is coming. Where are your parents, hm? You shouldn’t run off without them.”

The kids grumble childishly before scurrying off. You tilt your head down, placing a gentle hand on your son’s back. “Hey,” you murmur. “Papa will be here soon, okay?”

He nods, but the brightness in his expression dims just a little. “Okay,” he whispers, more to himself than to you.

Mr. Ito claps his hands, gathering the children’s attention. “Alright, everyone! Let’s all take a seat with our dads—or moms!” he adds with a kind smile toward you. “We’re going to start our special activities now.”

Koji swallows hard, gripping the hem of his shirt as he walks to his spot on the colorful carpet. He sits beside you, his small hand reaching for yours, holding on tightly. You squeeze it reassuringly, silently hoping—praying—that Satoru keeps his promise. You sit beside him, trying to steady yourself, to keep the nagging worry at bay. You check your phone—no messages. No calls. Nothing.

“Alright, everyone! We’re going to start with our very special ‘Why We Love Our Dads’ presentation we practiced in class!”

A murmur of excitement spreads through the kids as they grab their drawings and cards, eager to share. One by one, they begin taking turns standing in front of the room, reading out loud the reasons they love their fathers. Laughter fills the space, along with the occasional aww from the parents. Koji grips the edge of his paper tightly, his little fingers curling around it. He turns to you, eyes shining. “It’s almost my turn!” he whispers, practically vibrating in his seat. “Papa’s gonna hear everything I wrote about him!”

You don’t know what to say. You can only nod, swallowing past the lump in your throat.

Minute after minute passes. More fathers beam at their children, patting their heads, giving them hugs. The list of kids waiting to present grows smaller. And still—no Satoru.

You check your phone again.

Nothing.

Damn it, Satoru!

Koji’s excitement starts to wane, his fingers fidgeting with the paper in his hands. He keeps sneaking glances toward the entrance, and with each passing second, the light in his eyes dims just a little more. Biting his tiny lip in contemplation, his brows knitting in an uncomfortable way. You can only offer encouraging words and touches, though you know that’s not enough for what should be a special moment like this one. By the time his name is called, he hesitates. His little hands clutch the drawing so tight that the edges begin to wrinkle. “Koji?” his teacher prompts gently.

You place a reassuring hand on his back, leaning in close. “You got this, sweetheart,” you whisper, kissing his cheek.

He nods slowly and stands, walking to the front of the room with his paper in his hands. His voice is quieter than usual when he speaks. You stand up, moving over to the side but close enough so you can record him better—giving him a big smile and thumbs up behind the camera.

Koji looks at you and when he sees your further encouragement, a small smile breaks out onto his face before he’s looking down at his colored paper. “I…I love my papa because he’s…he’s really s-strong and cool,” Koji starts, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “And he makes the best pancakes. And he always makes me laugh. We always go on undercover missions. He buys me toys and builds forts with me. A-And…” His voice falters just slightly, his eyes flickering once more toward the door. His fingers tighten around the paper.

You can see it—the moment realization starts creeping in. The moment the truth settles in his tiny frame. The way his eyes blink too rapidly in a way that lets you know he’s on the verge of shutting down and crying. Your smile wavers, forcing yourself to show nothing but support for your son at a time like this.

“And…” He tries again, but there’s something softer in his tone now, something uncertain. He looks down at his drawing, then at the room full of fathers who showed up.

And then, finally, he turns his gaze toward you.

His smile is smaller now, but still there. He holds up his drawing, his voice clearer this time. “…And my mom is really strong too. She does everything Papa does.”

There’s a warmth in the room, a few murmurs of appreciation, but all you can focus on is Koji’s face, the way he’s looking at you now. And for a brief second, just a second, you think maybe—just maybe—he understands. Your eyes are beginning to water, a shaky exhale leaving your lips in a quiet way because you are not crying right now. Maybe later.

“She helps me with my homework, even when I don’t get it right away. And she makes my lunch just how I like it, even when she’s really busy.” His lips press together for a moment, as if he’s thinking carefully about his next words. “And she tucks me in every night and stays with me until I fall asleep when Papa lets me stay up late.” He giggles to himself at the memory.

There’s a shift in the room now. A few of the fathers exchange glances, some of the mothers in the crowd offering soft smiles. You can feel the warmth of their eyes on you, but you don’t dare look away from Koji. “She tells me stories about superheroes,” he continues, his voice gaining just a little more confidence. “And even though she says she’s not one, I think she is. Papa says she is, he says she’s a better superhero than he is!”

Something in your chest clenches so tight it’s almost hard to breathe. Your vision blurs slightly, and you blink rapidly, taking a slow, shaky inhale. The grip on your phone falters a little.

“But Papa is taller than Mama. He has blue eyes and he does these really funny voices when he reads me stories,” Koji continues, looking at the small crowd of families. “I love my Papa because…because I want to be like him when I grow up, but I also want to be like my Mama. I want to be smart, strong, and tall!” A small chorus of laughter runs out, with you following. “When I’m my Papa’s age, I hope I can love someone like how loves Mama! But they don’t sleep in the same bed…and Papa doesn’t live with us,” he mutters with a downturned pout.

It’s like he pauses for a dramatic effect.

The comment causes the atmosphere to only grow a tad bit awkward, the parents sending you weird, subtle glances. Your lips thin in into a purse, though you can’t find it in yourself to be angry.

Koji shifts his weight again, the corner of his mouth tugging up in a small, almost hesitant smile. “I love my Papa a lot,” he says. “And I know he loves me too.” Another pause. “Even if he’s not here.”

Your heart sinks.

Koji swallows, glancing down at his paper, his fingers curling around it for a long moment. And then, finally, he lifts his head, looking right at you again. “But my mom is here.” The weight of those words settles into your bones, heavy and warm all at once. Koji smiles at you—small, but real.

“And I think that’s enough.”

The silence that follows is almost deafening. Then, the room fills with quiet murmurs, a few soft claps, and a warmth that you can’t quite describe. You laugh out a shaky chuckle, ending the recording. Your son is beaming at you, finished with his presentation. You’re about to clap your hands together and urge him over when suddenly—

“Good job, Koji!”

A shout—one too loud for a classroom—makes everyone break their neck to see where it came from. You jolt, barely having time to look over your shoulder before Koji averts his eyes from you. And if possible, his smile grows wider, eyes twinkling. “Papa!!” he shouts, running over to his father. Gojo is laughing, picking his son up and lifting him into my arms. Koji—ever bright—looks back over at his classmates. “See! I told you! This is my Papa! He’s here! He came!”

Gasps ripple through the room, followed by whispers and excited chatter from the children. Some fathers look over with raised brows, while the teachers exchange glances of both relief and surprise. Gojo, the spectacle he is, stands tall with Koji in his arms, grinning like he just won the lottery. “Of course I came! How could I miss Dad Appreciation Day?” he exclaims, ruffling Koji’s hair before pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I had to see my little guy shine.”

Koji giggles, his small hands clutching at the collar of Gojo’s jacket as if he never wants to let go. His excitement is contagious, his joy so pure that, for a brief moment, you forget the emotional wreck you were about to become. “Did you see me, Papa?!”

“I did, baby. I’m sorry I came late, but I didn’t want to make you nervous. I heard everything.”

“I don’t get nervous, Papa,” he mumbles. Satoru simply laughs, adorning his son with small kisses to his face and neck. Koji giggles, squirming around.

You, on the other hand, are frozen in place, gripping your phone so tightly your knuckles ache. The air in your lungs feels too thick, like it’s pressing against your ribs. He actually came. You swallow hard, blinking rapidly as Gojo finally looks at you. His gaze lingers on you for just a moment too long. He’s unreadable, but there’s something there—something deeper, something unspoken. “I’m here, I’m here.” He mutters soothingly to Koji, moving to stand beside you as the next kid presents.

Koji peeks from Satoru’s shoulder, giving you a smile that makes you instantly mirror it. You remind yourself to give his dad a piece of your mind when you have the chance.

Over time, the group has congregated downstairs to the gymnasium where there’s even more crafts set up, decorations, games, and food.

The gymnasium is bustling with energy, filled with the smell of popcorn, hot dogs, and cotton candy. Banners hang from the rafters, all colorful and festive with slogans like “Dad’s Day Fun!” and “We love our Dads!” The sound of laughter and chatter fills the air, mixed with the occasional clink of a game prize being handed out. Koji tugs at your hand and Satoru’s, practically dragging you guys over to the bounce house, his excitement bubbling over. “Mama! Papa! Look! I wanna jump!” His little feet bounce in place, and his eyes sparkle with anticipation.

You can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. The light in his eyes as he points to the inflatable structure is enough to make any stress melt away for a moment. As you guide him toward the bounce house, you notice Gojo trailing behind with his usual confidence, though there’s something softer about the way he watches his son.

“Think you can handle it, champ?” Gojo teases, rolling up his sleeves. His voice is playful, but his eyes are warm, focused on Koji as if the world around them doesn’t exist.

Koji, already bouncing inside the inflatable, doesn’t hesitate to answer. “I’m gonna jump higher than you, Papa!” he exclaims, bouncing with all his might. Gojo chuckles, his shoulders relaxing as he watches the joy in his son’s movements.

You linger at the edge of the bounce house, watching them interact. It’s almost surreal seeing Gojo in this light—happy, relaxed, laughing with his son, and the moment feels so... normal. He’s about to go in when you stop him. “I don’t think it’s meant for the adults.”

He looks back at you, a small pout on his face like he was just denied his favorite candy. “What? So? I don’t mind.”

“Well not you, but the other kids might—”

“You better run, Koji. I’m gonna get you!” he shouts, going right inside the bouncy house. You hear Koji’s excited squeals as he plays with his father inside. From the outside, your eyes stay on the pair and you even see a small part of Gojo that only comes out in certain times. Times where he’s allowed to be a kid again. He has a different kind of glow to him and you’re feeling your isnides begin to stir with warmness, biting back a smile when his boisterous laugh outsounds his son’s. Leave it up to him take over. You sigh and with this time to yourself, you decide to give your feet a rest and let Satoru have his fun with koji. It is technically his day, after all.

Inside, Koji and Gojo are jumping around, playing a little game of tag and who can jump the highest. Gojo shows off by even doing a front flip for his son, and when Koji tries to imitate it, he promptly stops him. The minutes pass and their skin is beginning to show visible beads of sweat, fashes flushed with excitement. They sit down at one of the corner of the bounce house, Koji rested on top of his father’s lap. Gojo moves some hair out of his face. It’s nice and serene. Koji looks up at Gojo—his father looking down at him with a smile full of love and appreciation.

Koji bites his lower lip, putting a hand to Gojo’s chest when he turns to face him better. “Papa?”

“Yes, Koji?”

“I have a question.”

“Oh?” Gojo’s eyebrow raises. “Well, please tell me what this question is.”

Koji’s head tilts with a smile. “How did you and Mama meet?”

Gojo’s face softens, and for a moment, his usual teasing grin disappears. He blinks at the question, caught off guard, but his eyes warm almost immediately as he looks at Koji, who is still sitting in his lap, his little hand still pressed against Gojo’s chest. It’s such an innocent question—so full of curiosity, like Koji is trying to piece together the little story of his parents' lives before he came into the picture.

Gojo leans back slightly, shifting so that he’s more comfortable, one hand still resting on Koji’s back, the other absentmindedly playing with his son’s hair. “How did we meet?” he repeats, the question dancing on his lips as though he’s thinking about it. "Well… that's a bit of a long story, buddy."

Koji looks up at him with big, wide eyes, clearly intrigued. “I wanna hear it,” he says, his voice filled with that earnest excitement that only kids can have.

Gojo looks up in thought. “Well, Mama didn’t really like me at first, but, you know, after a while, we started talking more. And you know what? That’s when things got interesting.” He pauses, looking down at Koji with a fondness that makes the words feel like something deeper. “She went from not liking me at all to us becoming a team.”

Koji seems to contemplate this for a moment, his little brows furrowing as he tries to piece it all together. “So... she didn’t like each other but then she did?” he asks, his voice innocent but inquisitive.

“Exactly,” Gojo says with a smile, gently ruffling Koji’s hair. “Sometimes, it takes time for people to figure each other out. And sometimes, even when you don’t like someone at first, they end up becoming the most important person in your life.”

Koji blinks, his eyes big and wide, as if he’s processing this new information. “Is that how you and Mama became friends first?”

Gojo pauses for a moment, a thoughtful look on his face. He glances over at you, and though his expression is playful, there’s a depth to it that can’t be ignored. “You could say that,” he replies, his voice softer now. “We became... something more than friends, though. We became family.”

Koji giggles with elation, leaning in close as if he’s whispering something in his ear. “Did you like Mama at first.”

Gojo matches his son’s laugh, also leaning in. “Oh, buddy. You promise not to tell? It’s a secret.”

“I promise!”

Gojo leans closer to his son, looking around before meeting his eyes. “When I first met Mama…..it was love at first sight.”

Gojo’s walking down the street, hands shoved into the pockets of his pants as he’s been forced with flower duty. He grumbled and huffed to his parents about having one of the maids do it, but to no avail. Now he’s stuck trying to find some stupid flower shop that he wouldn’t think twice about coming to if he wasn’t forced. Although he should probably be more sympathetic since he’s literally buying flowers for his grandmother’s gravestone—the grandmother he barely knew.

As Gojo walks down the street, the late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the pavement, and the faint hum of city life surrounds him. He glances up at the sky, his usual playful demeanor replaced by a slight irritation. He hadn’t wanted to do this. He could already feel the weight of his family's expectations pressing down on him, and buying flowers for a woman he barely remembered felt more like a chore than an act of reverence. But, of course, his parents had insisted. His thoughts drift from the task at hand as he walks past cafes and small shops. He knows he's wasting time, dragging his feet, but there's no denying that he feels disconnected from the task. His family had always been about the big picture—the legacy, the power, the status—but moments like these, like honoring someone from his family who passed away when he was too young to remember her, don’t hold much weight for him. Not yet, anyway.

He finally turns the corner and spots the little flower shop at the end of the block. It’s nothing fancy, just a small corner store with an overgrown plant spilling out the door. He adjusts his sunglasses before continuing. The scent of fresh flowers hits him immediately, sharp and sweet, and he exhales slowly, already regretting having to pick out something “appropriate.” He’s not even sure what’s considered appropriate for a grandmother’s gravestone.

As he enters, the soft chime of the doorbell rings above him, and the bell-like sound almost pulls him out of his thoughts.

He’s looking around, senses already overwhelmed. Then, he sees her.

You’re standing behind the counter, a clipboard in your hand, taking inventory of the flowers in front of you. The moment he sees you, everything else fades. You look so absorbed in what you’re doing, the edges of your hair catching the sunlight filtering through the window, and something about the way you stand there, grounded and calm, strikes him deeply. The first thought that crosses his mind is that he’s never seen anyone like you before—someone who seems completely unbothered by the chaos of the world around them. It’s a strange thing—not only because he barely knows you but because he never actually…looks that deeply into people, especially ones he doesn’t know.

It’s funny, because he's no stranger to beauty—he’s been surrounded by it all his life—but something about you... it's not just physical. There's something about your presence, something about the way you seem perfectly at ease even in a small flower shop, that makes him stop dead in his tracks. His heart skips, and he suddenly feels out of place, like maybe he's not worthy of this peaceful little corner of the world.

“Can I help you?” Your voice is soft, a little melodic, and it makes him blink, pulling him back to the moment.

Gojo runs a hand through his hair, trying to shake the dazed feeling away. Pushing up his glasses and puffing his chest out, his voice lowering in a “manly” way. “Uh… yeah,” he clears his throat—his tone cracking that makes him want to punch himself. “I need flowers for a gravestone. My grandmother’s.” He says, his voice a little gruffer than he meant. He’s still trying to make sense of the sudden pull he feels toward you.

You look at him with a small tilt of your head, studying him for a moment, before gesturing to the far side of the store. “We have a few arrangements that are good for that,” you say, walking toward the display.

Gojo follows you, trying to keep his thoughts from wandering. He’s been in a couple of flower shops before, but he feels something different now. He can’t quite pinpoint it, but the longer he’s around you, the more he starts to feel the weight of the moment. It’s almost as if, for once, he’s doing something not for status, not for the family, but just because... well, just because.

“Do you know your grandmother’s favorite flowers?” you ask, glancing over your shoulder.

Gojo blinks, momentarily caught off guard by the question. He hadn’t even considered that. He feels a small pang of guilt. “I don’t know. I didn’t really know her. I was too young when she passed.”

You stop walking and turn to face him, a gentle look in your eyes. “Oh…well…that’s okay. It’s hard to remember people when they leave so early,” you say, your tone warm and understanding.

The kindness in your voice surprises him. Most people don’t look at him like that. He’s used to the mask people put on when they talk to him—the act of politeness, the careful distance. But you? You don’t seem to care that he’s the Gojo heir or that his family’s expectations come with a heavy burden. For a moment, it’s just the two of you, standing in a little flower shop, and it feels... real.

“Maybe something simple, then,” Gojo says, shrugging. “Just something that shows I care or whatever.”

You nod, the softest smile tugging at your lips. “I think we can manage that.”

For the rest of the time, Gojo barely notices the flowers he’s choosing. His eyes keep wandering to you, following the way your hands move as you arrange things, and for the first time in a long time, he finds himself wondering about someone else—not his family, not his future, but you. There’s something intriguing about the way you carry yourself, something that makes him feel like he’s finally met someone who isn’t afraid to see him as more than just the Gojo name.

“You’re really cute,” he randomly blurts out as he’s paying for the lillies. You falter, looking up at him with widened eyes and parted mouth. His eyebrow twitches, internally cursing himself and his fat mouth. “I…I mean….you know. You’re just…your hair and your smile, it’s like…well you’re like…”

You’re still staring at him in silence and the more he’s foolishly stumbling over his words, the more he feels himself grow red. He hurriedly tosses down the change and grabs the bouquet. “Yeah, um…t-thanks.”

You have no time to react before he turns around and practically runs out the door. As he leaves the shop, flowers in hand, he finds himself thinking of you more than he should. It’s a strange feeling, and it makes him question things in a way he never has before. But one thought remains louder than the others: I fumbled!

Koji gasps in awe, completely engrossed in the love story of his parents. “Wow! That sounds like the movies!”

Gojo laughs, ruffling his son’s hair. “Yeah, just like the movies, huh?”

Koji’s smile spreads, satisfied with the answer, and leans back against Gojo’s chest, curling up a little in his father’s lap. “That’s a good story, Papa.”

Gojo chuckles again, pulling Koji closer and resting his chin on top of his son’s head. “Glad you liked it, kiddo.” He pauses for a moment, gazing down at Koji with so much love in his eyes that it’s almost overwhelming. “I’m glad I met your mama, too.”

For a moment, there’s nothing but the soft sounds of laughter and the gentle hum of the gymnasium around you. The connection between them is so clear, so perfect in its simplicity. He wonders, for a fleeting second, what it would be like to just let go of everything and let this be enough—this little world where everything feels okay, where the past and its mistakes don’t have to weigh you guys down. He can only dream.

You’ve just stepped out of the bathroom, running a hand through your hair when you bump into Mr. Ito. You let out a small gasp, startled by the unexpected encounter. Mr. Ito stands in front of you, a warm smile on his face as he adjusts his glasses. "Oh! I didn’t mean to startle you."

"No, it's fine," you say quickly, offering a polite smile. "I was just heading back to the event." You’re still catching your breath from the light rush of running into him so unexpectedly, but the tension begins to ease as he nods in understanding.

“I see you’re enjoying the day,” Mr. Ito says, his smile turning a little more knowing as he glances past you toward the gymnasium. “It’s nice to see the students’ families involved. Especially Koji—he’s such a bright little guy.”

You feel a warmth stir in your chest at the mention of Koji. He’s your world, and hearing others say such kind things about him makes your heart swell. “He is,” you reply softly, your smile genuine.

Mr. Ito follows your line of sight before focusing on you again. “And, how are you today, Ms. Y/N?”

You blink up, putting on a casual smile. “Oh, I’m fine, thank you. And you?”

“Fine now that I’m talking to you.” His attempt at a pickup line falls flat, even with the way he laughs and tries to play it off. You awkwardly chortle back, eyes flickering to the side. “I’m sorry. That was weird of me.”

You wave it off with a light smile, not wanting to make things more awkward than they already are. “It’s okay, Mr. Ito. You didn’t mean anything by it.”

He nods, his grin still a little strained. “I didn’t, no. Just... getting too comfortable, I suppose.”

The silence stretches between you both, and you try to think of something to break it. Your eyes glance back to the gymnasium where Gojo and Koji are still playing, laughing in the distance. For some reason, the sight of them makes you feel a sense of calm amidst the strange encounter with Mr. Ito. He plays with his fingers, visibly debating something before just going for it. “I just…I would…like to get to know you better, Y/N. You know, outside of all this.”

You quietly clear your throat, rubbing the back of your neck. “Mr. Ito, I appreciate that but, you…already know that I don’t reciprocate the same feelings and that…I’d like to keep a boundary between us.”

You notice the way his jaw ticks, eyebrows knitting just the slightest before briefly nodding.

“And well…” you decide now’s a good time to bring things up. “Koji and I, we’ll be moving. I’m going to start the process of disenrolling him and entering him into the school near our new place. I’ve already talked to him about it and he’s excited.”

Mr. Ito blinks, his expression faltering slightly at your words. It’s clear that the news has caught him off guard, though he quickly masks it with a tight smile. “I see. Well, I suppose that’s... good for you two. A fresh start, huh?”

You nod, trying to keep the conversation as neutral as possible. “Yeah. It’s been a long time coming. I think it’ll be a better environment for Koji, too. New opportunities, new surroundings.”

The air between you both feels heavier now, the tension thickening with the revelation. You can tell Mr. Ito’s thoughts are churning, and though he’s trying to keep it composed, it’s clear he didn’t expect to hear this today. He takes a breath, and when he speaks again, his tone is much quieter. “I understand, Y/N. I really do.” He pauses, seeming to weigh his next words carefully. “But... if you ever change your mind, or if you need anything—someone to talk to—please don’t hesitate to reach out. I’d like to help if I can. I’ll miss you both.”

You feel a knot form in your stomach, but you force a polite smile, trying to smooth over the uncomfortable edge of the conversation. “Thank you, Mr. Ito. I’ll keep that in mind.”

He turns for a second before facing you again, his smile looking a little more forced. “But if you’d like to join me for some Italian food. I know this place downtown and they—”

“I love Italian food.”

You gasp lightly, jolting when Satoru’s voice seemingly appears out of nowhere, but so does the hand on your hip, almost hovering but still close enough to keep you tethered to his side. “What time?” He smiles, looking at the other man with faux sweetness.

Mr. Ito shifts uneasily, clearly taken aback by Satoru’s sudden appearance and the casual intimacy of his hand on your hip. His gaze flickers between the two of you, his smile faltering as he clears his throat. “Well, I was actually inviting her,” he points out, his tone polite but edged with tension.

“I could tell, but I’m inviting myself.” Satoru smoothly replies, eyebrow tilting up.

Mr. Ito looks at you now, holding back a frown. Your mouth opens and closes, the words caught in your throat as you try to process the whirlwind that is Satoru Gojo. “I—”

“We have plans tonight,” he continues, not giving you a chance to object. “In fact, we always have plans, don’t we? Because I love Italian food too.” He pats your hip lightly, the gesture both possessive and reassuring, chuckling.

Mr. Ito clears his throat, straightening up a bit as if that will make him on par with Gojo. “I’m sorry, but I’m speaking to Ms. Y/N and Ms. Y/N only.”

“And I’m speaking to you, Mr….oh sorry, I forgot your name. What was it again?”

The dynamic between you three feels tense with awkwardness and unsaid feelings. You notice the tick of Satoru’s jaw along with the furrow of Mr. Ito’s eyebrows. Jesus Christ.

Satoru told his head in a condescending way. “But hey, don’t let me stop you from recommending your favorite Italian spot. We’re always open to new places.”

“Well, look at that,” Mr. Ito replies, his smile slowly dropping. “You are stopping me, in fact.”

“Maybe that’s the point.”

“I don’t see why you would.”

“The same goes for you.”

“You’re quite a rude man, you know that?”

“And you’re a pushy one. So what do you plan on doing about it?”

The air is charged, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. You feel like a bystander caught in the middle of a brewing storm, watching as Gojo and Mr. Ito exchange sharp words like blows in an unseen battle for dominance. Mr. Ito lets out a breath, forcing a tight smile again. “I don’t see why this concerns you, Mr. Gojo.”

Satoru chuckles, the sound light but laced with something darker. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. It concerns me a whole lot when it involves my family.” His hand, still resting at your hip, presses slightly—not enough to be uncomfortable, but enough to remind you he’s there, standing firm.

Mr. Ito’s jaw tightens. “I was just extending an invitation. Didn’t realize she needed a chaperone.”

Gojo tilts his head, feigning curiosity. “Chaperone? Nah. I just don’t like guys who don’t know how to take no for an answer.” His smile widens, all teeth, as he leans in just slightly. “Kinda pathetic, don’t you think?”

You barely hold in your sigh.

Mr. Ito straightens, his jaw tensing. “It’s not pathetic to be persistent.”

“It is when it’s unwanted.”

His words are casual, but the weight behind them is anything but. You can feel it—the shift in the air, the growing hostility masked beneath their polite tones. Mr. Ito glances at you, searching for something, but you’re too drained to entertain whatever game he thinks he’s playing. So, you decide to end it. “Mr. Ito,” you interject, your voice firm but measured. “I appreciate the offer, but my answer is the same. I’d really like to keep things professional.”

There’s a beat of silence before Mr. Ito exhales through his nose, forcing a nod. “Understood.” His eyes flicker to Gojo once more before he nods. “Take care, Y/N.”

With that, he turns and walks off, tension still lingering in his wake.

Gojo clicks his tongue, watching him go. “Man, some people really don’t know when to quit.”

You shake your head, exhaling. “Was that necessary?”

“Absolutely,” Gojo grins, turning to you. “Did you see the way his eye twitched? Best part of my day.”

Your voice lowers and sharpens. “You can’t just be rude like that. What even was that?”

“That,” he replies, stepping back just enough to put a safe distance between you but keeping that infuriating grin, “was me saving you from an awkward dinner with Mr. Boring over there.”

“Saving me?” you repeat, incredulous. “I didn’t need saving. I could’ve handled it. And besides,” you walk back over to where Koji is playing with his friends in the bouncy house. “Maybe I would’ve said yes.”

“Don’t even say that,” he quickly follows.

“Why not?”

You look at him, his lips purse like he’s about to say anything. Giving you a quick scan up and down before deciding against it—sighing and running a hand through his hair. You peer away, down at your feet. A small pause stretches between you two before he’s speaking. “Listen,” he starts, voice tentative. “I…I think we should talk…about you know.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. Suguru already talked to me.”

“Not just about that, Y/N.”

“Then what else, Satoru?” you turn your head to him. “What else could we possibly have to talk about? We have nothing to talk about unless it involves Koji, and right now—it’s supposed to be a good day. I’d rather not air out everything today—especially right here.”

Gojo exhales through his nose, his jaw tightening as he watches you. His usual playful expression is nowhere to be found, replaced by something quieter—something raw. “You always do this,” he murmurs, almost to himself.

“Do what?” You cross your arms, suddenly feeling defensive.

“Shut me out.” His voice isn’t accusatory, but there’s something heavy in it, something that makes your throat tighten.

You shake your head, willing yourself to keep your emotions in check. “I’m not shutting you out, Satoru. I just—” You pause, exhaling sharply before glancing back at Koji. He’s still playing, oblivious to the weight of the conversation happening just a few feet away. “I just don’t want to ruin today for him.”

Gojo studies you for a moment, then sighs. He steps closer—not enough to be overwhelming, but enough that you can see the sincerity in his expression. “I get it,” he says softly. “I do. But this…this thing between us? It’s not going away just because we pretend it doesn’t exist.”

Your fingers curl into your sleeves, nails pressing against the fabric. “And what do you want me to do about that?”

He lets out a quiet chuckle, but there’s no humor in it. “I don’t know. Maybe just…let me in. For once.”

Your heart clenches at his words, but before you can respond, Koji calls out to you both, waving excitedly from the bouncy house. The moment shatters like glass, and you turn away, forcing a smile as you wave back. “Not today, Satoru,” you whisper, barely loud enough for him to hear. “I’ve already made that mistake, I’m not doing it again.”

He watches you for a beat longer before stepping back, his expression unreadable. “Alright,” he finally says, his voice light but laced with something else—something aching. “I won’t push you.”

You say nothing in response, rubbing your forearms slowly as if to comfort yourself from a dreaded conversation with your ex—one that is most likely long overdue. But you’d like to prolong it even more, if that’s even saying anything. His arm is brushing against yours as you watch your son socialize freely with his peers.

“I…” you inhale deeply. “Koji and I are taking the place. The one you…got us for Christmas. I’ll be switching schools for him.”

Gojo is quiet for a moment, his head tilting slightly as he processes your words. Then, his lips quirk up in a small, almost bittersweet smile. “So you finally decided to accept my gift.”

You nod, exhaling softly. “It’s what’s best for Koji.”

His smile falters just a little, but he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he glances over at your son, who’s laughing, tumbling around in the bouncy house without a care in the world. “It’s a good place,” he says after a pause. “Safe. Quiet. He’ll like it.”

You hug your arms around yourself. “That’s what I’m hoping for.”

Another pause stretches between you both, filled only by the distant chatter of parents and the delighted screams of children. Then Gojo shifts, turning his body slightly toward you. “I meant what I said earlier,” he murmurs. “I won’t push you. But you don’t have to do everything alone, Y/N. I hope you know that.”

You swallow, not trusting yourself to look at him. Because if you do, you might see everything you’ve been trying so hard to ignore—the sincerity, the regret, the quiet longing that lingers beneath his usual nonchalance. Instead, you nod stiffly. “I know.”

Gojo watches you for a beat longer before finally sighing, stepping back and stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Alright,” he says, his tone shifting to something lighter, though you can tell it’s forced. “Then let’s just enjoy today, yeah?”

You nod again, not trusting yourself to say anything else. Because the truth is—you don’t know if you believe him.

“Mama! Papa!” Koji shouts from inside. “Daniel wants to know why you don’t sleep in the same bed!”

Gojo and you simultaneously stiffen. Damn kids and their questions.

The rest of the day is filled with laughter, Gojo trying to show off his muscles—that you would never agree he actually has—for Koji’s friends because his son loves to brag more than his old man. They even did face painting, you opted to get just a small flower on your cheek instead of the extravagant intricacies your husband—ex—adorn. Even for the parts where Koji is meant to discuss how awesome his father is, he always makes sure to mention you too. Even dragging you up to the front with Gojo and him as he had prepared a small song to sing. Gojo is helping his son belt out while you awkwardly clapped along. But just as there’s activities, food shared, and more of Koji bragging about his dad, so is there the…uncomfortable moments.

“Mama and Papa don’t hold hands.”

“Mama and Papa don’t kiss.”

“Papa always stares at Mama’s butt when she’s not looking!”

“My Mama and Papa don’t have pretty rings that match.”

Unfortmnately for you, your son loves to air out your dirty business not just to his friends, but practically everyone in attendance.

Your entire body tenses at Koji’s latest declaration, your face heating instantly. A few parents nearby stifle their laughter behind their hands, while others exchange amused glances. You slowly turn to look at Gojo, who—of course—is completely unfazed, grinning like the little menace he’s always been.

“Koji,” you start, voice strained, “why don’t you, uh…go get another balloon animal?”

“But I already have three,” Koji says, tilting his head in confusion.

“Get a fourth,” you deadpan.

Gojo, ever the opportunist, crouches beside your son and stage-whispers, “It’s okay, buddy. Mama’s just shy.”

You jab an elbow into his side—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to wipe the smug look off his face. He lets out an exaggerated oof, clutching his ribs dramatically.

“See?!” Koji gasps, pointing. “Mama hits Papa, too!”

“Oh my god,” you groan, covering your face with your hands as laughter erupts around you.

Gojo, the shameless man that he is, only laughs in delight, ruffling Koji’s hair as if his son had just won a medal instead of exposing him in front of half the playground. “But what can I say?” he grins, utterly unbothered. “Your mama’s got a nice—”

“Satoru,” you hiss, slapping a hand over his mouth before he can finish that sentence in front of a group of impressionable children. His laughter muffles against your palm, but his eyes are twinkling with mischief, completely unfazed by the judgmental glances of nearby parents.

Koji, however, looks incredibly pleased with himself, puffing out his chest. “See? I told you guys!” he exclaims to his friends, who are giggling amongst themselves. “Papa’s always looking at Mama when she’s not paying attention.”

You groan, feeling your face heat up as some parents whisper behind their hands, clearly entertained. You shoot a glare at Gojo, who simply winks at you. “Maybe because she’s so pretty,” he muses, finally prying your hand off his mouth.

“Maybe because you’re a perv,” you grumble under your breath, folding your arms.

Gojo gasps dramatically, clutching his chest like you just stabbed him. “Such cruel accusations! In front of our child, no less!”

Koji tugs at your sleeve, looking up at you with the pure innocence only a child can possess. “Mama, if you and Papa love each other, why don’t you kiss like Riku’s parents do?”

The question makes your stomach flip, and you freeze. You don’t dare look at Gojo, but you can feel the way his playful demeanor stills beside you. It’s the question neither of you have the heart to answer. And suddenly, despite the afternoon sun and the laughter all around, a chill settles over your spine.

Yeah, maybe you should’ve better prepared yourself for today.

It’s around three in the afternoon now, Koji absolutely spent but still happily holds onto his parents’ hands, skipping between them. You walk with Gojo, the weight of the day’s events starting to settle in your bones, but the soft thump of Koji’s little feet on the ground as he hops along distracts you from your thoughts. You glance at Gojo, who’s keeping his stride slow enough to match Koji’s, his usual playful grin replaced with a quieter, more pensive expression. There’s something about this moment—the three of you together—that feels different, almost like a perfect, fleeting snapshot of a family that could have been.

Koji pulls ahead slightly, his excitement bubbling over. He twirls in a circle, hands stretched out as if trying to catch the wind, before looking back at you both with a grin that could light up the whole park. “Come on, slowpokes!” he teases, clearly proud of his energy and his ability to keep going while his parents trail behind.

You exchange a brief glance with Gojo, the weight of unsaid words passing between you in the shared quiet of that look. There’s a softness in his gaze as he watches Koji, everything feels... almost okay. Almost like it’s parallel universe. But then the tug of reality creeps in again, the reminder of everything you’ve been through together—everything that’s still left unsaid.

“Koji, slow down!” you call, but there’s no real urgency in your voice. It’s more out of habit than concern. You’re just trying to hold onto this small moment a little longer, even if you know it can’t last forever.

The smile that spreads across Gojo’s face as he watches his son is genuine, warm—almost too warm, as if he’s trying to convince himself that this is enough, that the weight of what’s been lost won’t ever overshadow what’s still here. “I can’t believe how much energy you have left in you, buddy,” Gojo says, catching up with Koji as he spins around again, arms flailing with childish abandon.

“I’m just getting started!” Koji says, laughing as if he’s truly invincible in this moment, in this place. You can’t help but smile at the sight of him—happy, carefree, completely unaware of the tension that’s simmering just beneath the surface of this picture-perfect scene.

Gojo looks at you again, a small, wistful smile tugging at his lips. “You know, I didn’t think I’d ever get to do this. Be here with you. With him.” His voice is quiet, almost too quiet for you to hear over the distant chatter of other families still enjoying the day. But you hear it. You feel it.

You offer him a half-smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah, well, we’ve got him now.”

And for a fleeting moment, it feels like that’s all that matters.

You’re all walking back to Gojo’s car, the other parents and children doing the same. Engrossed in Koji’s raving about how fun today was—Gojo and you nodding along and smiling at his pure happiness with a parental love.

“Where is she?!”

A sudden shout pulls all of your attention, your grip tightening around Koji’s hand as Satoru pulls him closer to you both. The sudden shout cuts through the air like a knife, sharp and frantic, snapping you out of the bubble you’d been enveloped in. Your footsteps slow down as in the distance, there’s a small huddle of people formed—it looks like there’s something or someone in the middle of it.

Your feet stop, the world around you slowing. The shout wasn’t one of joy or excitement—it was filled with desperation, and that alone sends a shiver down your spine. Your eyes shift to the distance where the sound originated. There’s a huddle of people formed, clustered around in a small circle formation, it almost seems like... a commotion. You can’t make out the details yet, but something feels off, something heavy about the way the crowd is gathered, their heads bobbing in quick movements as if trying to see over something or someone.

Koji tilts his head. “What’s happening?”

But neither Gojo or you have a response for that. How could you when the crowd parts ever so slightly and you see a head of jet black hair. Your eyes widen, body freezing as every single hair on your body jolts up. You feel stuck, hand trembling around your son’s hand—a breath feeling like it’s too much work. The world around you shifts into a blur as the air seems to thicken, each step feeling like it’s dragging you deeper into the unknown.

You don’t know how long you stand there, unable to move, unable to process. The sound of Koji’s voice, his soft tug on your hand, feels distant now, muffled by the pounding of your heart in your ears. Your eyes remain locked on the figure in the crowd, the jet-black hair unmistakable. Your breath hitches in your throat, a tightness constricting your chest. It’s impossible. You blink, trying to make sense of the situation, but every time you do, she’s still there.

It’s like you’ve somehow reverted back to your child self, staring in complete shock and utter fear at what your mother’s reaction would be to a vase you accidentally broke. You see it happening—it’s all moving too slowly for you and you’re suddenly praying for a hole to swallow. Except when her head turns and you’re greeted with a face you haven’t seen in years—aged but undeniably recognizable—she doesn’t greet you with a deadly sneer. No.

Her eyes light up, face controting into a wide smile that you don’t think—no, you know—she has never given you. And as soon as she sees you, she’s pushing her way through people without a second thought—even the children.

You have no time to react.

“My daughter! My sweet, sweet daughter!” she exclaims with a happiness that doesn’t feel real, it never does. The minute her arms wrap around you in a tight hug, you think you’re suffocating.

“I’ve missed you! Did you miss your mother too, Y/N?”

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