Defiance | King!sukuna X Concubine!reader Master List

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part thirty —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 3.8k tags: death. blood and gore. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. enemies to lovers. SA and implication of child SA (very subtle). summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: this chapter is all from Blue's perspective. if anything regarding the abuse or suffering of children triggers you do not read. though it is really not graphic at all (imo) and the SA is EXTREMELY implied and subtle (just a woman looking/potentially touching Blue's private area to check for virginity). I wanted to tell you so there are no surprises.

B

Blue hasn’t been without her father for more than an hour in over five years. There were moments when she'd imagined him disappearing, especially when he said no to her, when he could annoy her, push her too hard, or withhold the words she craved. And yet—now, with her head resting in Twix's lap, she can only long for him. The thought of his absence fills her with cold dread. The kind that erupts goosebumps on her arms despite the stuffy air in the room. Twix’s fingers gently stroke the back of her scalp, but it does little to ground her as her mind drifts to Ghost. He’s alive, that woman said. But it's been over a day, and he still hasn’t come for her.

"Do you think he will come soon?" she asks quietly.

Twix's fingers pause at the top of her hairline. "I think... I think he is doing everything he can to find you."

Blue is old enough to know that is a non-answer.

She knows, deep down, that Twix doesn't think he'll be coming, either.

"I will figure something out, okay?" she promises.

"Okay," Blue whispers noncommittally.

"Hey." A faint smile. "I've done pretty good at getting us out of shit in the past, right?"

Blue mumbles, "I guess so."

But this time felt different from those times. No matter how many times she catches Twix squinting around the room, murmuring things to Nereida, even Blue knows that a bright idea won’t magically appear. Not in here, where there is nothing except the three beds, the bolted cell, and the out-of-reach door that Ghost has yet to barge through.

When Blue's fingers instinctively search for her wrist, Twix’s face softens, and she gently encloses her palm over Blue's knuckles. "Alright. I want you to close your eyes and imagine that beach you showed me once. The one with white sand, and super blue water." Blue plays along with a deep sigh, closing her eyes as she feels a callused thumb brush her cheek. "Almost as blue as your eyes. See it?"

"I guess."

"Good. Now, I want you to imagine that you are lying on the sand, eating all the Twix bars and Nutella you want. Oh, and Grim is there. He was trying to make a sandcastle but got his head stuck in the sand."

Blue's lips twitch despite herself. "This is dumb."

"Dumb? Well, I don't think Grim finds it dumb. He can hardly breathe right now so you better stop eating chocolate and haul his ass up."

Blue snorts quietly, eyes screwing tighter as she imagines it; pulling the bunny out of the sand, giggling, the waves crashing. She falls back onto the sand with him in tow, but he darts away from her hands, toward the water. When she looks over, sun glaring, someone else is there. It's her father, and for a moment she is ready to jump on his back and beg him to play in the waves with her. That's when she notices he is keeled over, ripped apart, bloodied and battered.

Blue jolts, inhaling sharply. When she reopens her eyes, the image is still there. 

"What's wrong?" 

"I just saw—" she rubs her eyes profusely, but he's right in front of her. Blood begins to spurt from a sever in his throat. His head snaps forward, hanging by a thin thread of tissue. "I see him! H-his head is..." 

She jerks upright from Twix's lap, her eyes blinking rapidly as if trying to shake off the vision. When that doesn't help, she buries her face in the pillow, but the image remains too real to ignore. The thread snaps, and her father’s head rolls away silently.

Twix’s voice cuts through, her hands gently shaking Blue’s shoulders, but it feels distant, like a shadow compared to the sickening thud of her father’s headless body hitting the ground. Thick blood pools at her feet, and she tries to move, but her muscles won’t obey. The blood rises and rises, suffocating her, until she can’t breathe.

"Blue, it's just... you're imagining it."

"I can't... I can't..."

Someone flips her over on the bed and hugs her shoulders.

Twix's chapped lips press into her cheek.

"Please, Blue. I'm here."

The touch is enough to drain the blood and free her lungs. Her father's dead body floats away. She gulps for air, cold sweat clinging to her neck, and curls into the body beside her. Lingering panic races through her heartbeat, but then, after a minute, it begins to slow considerably. A new feeling washes over with the force of a tidal wave; fatigue.

Blue suddenly feels so tired that she can't keep her eyes open. It’s as though the terrible images have drained her entirely, leaving only murky water in their place. Her mind begins to float, and the edges of the world blur. Twix's face is in front of her yet feels so far away. Her lips try to part for words to come out, but it takes three tries just to manage: "I feel strange."

Across the cell, Nereida whispers, "I do, too."

Weight shifts on the mattress as Twix tries to sit up, leaning against the wall. Her head dips slightly, then snaps back up. A shaky inhale. "That... that fucking bitch. The oatmeal!"

The oatmeal? Blue’s thoughts latch onto the warm meal they’d been forced to eat, but the memory slips away before she can hold onto it. The slow descent snowballs. Twix’s voice distorts, blending with the chirping of birds outside the window. Her body slides down the wall, crumpling back beside Blue. She tries to hug Twix again, but her arms won’t cooperate.

Minutes later, or maybe hours, Blue hears the metal screech of the cell door swinging open. Veiled ghosts drift in. She can do nothing to run from them. Murmured voices, speaking words she doesn't understand, bleed through the heavy blanket of fog lying over her.

"Vous avez dit que celui-ci était intact?"

"Oui, Maman."

"Nous offrirons son corps pur au Seigneur. Les deux autres seront aptes à avoir des enfants."

"Mais elle est une... Je veux dire, oui, Maman."

She feels something cold and sinuous lifting her—snakes. No, not snakes. Hands. Cold, unfamiliar hands. Twix shouts something slurred. Then Blue is dragged by her feet, her spine no longer supported by the bed. She tries to squirm free, but her limbs feel heavy, useless. More hands clamp down on her arms.

No, no.

She wants to call for Twix, but her voice is muffled beneath a palm, the sound dying in her throat.

A weathered voice coos in her ear. "Sweet child. There is nothing to fear."

She can't scream.

All she knows is Twix is no longer the one beside her.

Cold fear surges through her veins, and she claws at someone’s arm. The retaliation is swift—a prick to her neck.

The strike of pain intensifies her dizziness, the last fight in her body fading away. They're dragging her again. The hard floor beneath her feet melts into soft grass, and the stark white ceiling shifts into a blue, cloudless sky before everything fades to black.

A gentle melody repeats in her subconscious until she rouses.

The same three-note tune, over and over.

Peeling her eyes open against the buttery sunlight, the first thing she notices is an open window above her head, its thin white curtain dancing in the light breeze. Upon the windowsill sits a small, cooing bird with pearly grey feathers and a black ring around its neck. Its head tilts almost mechanically, two little black eyes regarding her. She stares for a long moment before her eyes fall closed once more, lulled by the familiar call. Only when the bird quiets does she truly come to her senses. The sudden silence jolts her upright.

This isn't the same room she was in before. There hadn’t been a window in the cell, and certainly not one left open. The air there had been thick with the scent of old wood and lingering dust. But here... here, the air is different. It smells of fresh flowers, of the tall grass she used to wade through with Ghost while hunting. 

The bird calls once more before flittering away, leaving her reeling.

"A collared dove."

Her gaze snaps to the right where an old woman sits in a mahogany chair, knitting needles in hand. Without looking up from the red yarn she weaves, she explains idly, "They are very common. Lovely, but common."

The accent of her old voice is nothing like Blue's Mancunian one. But she understands each word.

Her voice pulls through her teeth with great effort. "I don't... Where am I?"

The old woman's brow furrows as if she is deep in thought, but it smoothes over after she undoes a stitch and loops it again, hands moving with an unnatural slowness. "You had them in England, yes? They are very common there, too."

Blue's fingers spread into the fine linen, her pulse ticking as she blinks a few times to sharpen her vision. The woman before her is older than anyone she has seen in a long time, though there is a faint resemblance to a woman deep in her memory who she believes was her grandmother. Unlike the woman who visited their cell with food, this one does not wear a veil over her face. Long wisps of gray hair fall over her shoulders. Wrinkles etch around her eyes and lips. She is still cloaked in white, but around her neck hangs a red cord beaded with a cross dangling at the end.

Her fingers clench. "I don't care about the-the stupid bird. Why am I here? Where are my friends? You..." she swallows the feel of sandpaper in her mouth, "You put something in the food. You made me lose control of myself again!"

Finally, grey-blue eyes flicker up beneath a questioning brow. "Oh, sweet child. You are so full of fire." With an unsettling calmness, the woman sets down the knitting needles on a carved side table. Pressing a palm to the surface of it, she rises slowly, then laces her hands in front of her. "Come, and perhaps your questions will be answered. Though, I wouldn't try to run." She moves toward the door, her gait shuffled but steady. A glance over her shoulder beckons. "Your friends are under my care."

The mere mention stiffens Blue's spine. She forces herself to her unsteady feet, swaying slightly, bare toes digging into the wood planks. Each small step feels lighter than the first time she woke up from being drugged, though her body still protests. Ahead, the woman is already walking away. It wouldn’t take much to catch up, but Blue lingers, her eyes sweeping the room with deliberate caution—always stay aware of your surroundings.

For a moment, she considers grabbing the knitting needle and stabbing the woman. But then what? Everyone, her father included, is under her care, and any misstep could mean their deaths. Ghost always told her to never act without some type of plan—to wait for the right moment. Blue doesn’t even know where the others are.

As she hesitantly steps out of the small house, the realization hits her. There are more people here than she’s seen in a long time. Almost like a town, but not really. Smaller than that, but more than her group. The building they just left is a small, home made of light grey stone. To her right are more homes, smoke billowing from the chimneys. She counts at least four of them. Straight ahead of her is gravel road. This is where the woman heads, with Blue trailing behind her. To the left is a stretch of green lawn, bright and lush. She has the itch to sprint over it, but a voice ends that idea.

"Catch up, girl." 

Gravel bites her toes as she walks to the woman's side. She is still only dressed in the simple, white slip. She hasn't worn a dress before.

"Where are you taking me?"

"There are some things I wish you to see." 

"Why... why can't the friends I was with be here to see them, too?"

From the corner of her eyes, Blue catches the woman smile lightly. "What do you think of France?"

Blue digs her nails into her palms, swallowing down her frustration at the non-answer. "It's... nice, I guess." It isn't a lie. The beautiful beach they left from, the fields of wheat and flowers, were things she'd only imagined before. 

"Good. My husband was from India but owned this land. I never wanted to leave it. France is the most beautiful place. I knew I wanted my son to grow here." She exhales in a quiet appreciation. "My husband said this land would thrive, even after the plague. He was right. The Lord spared it. He did not spare Ashwin, though."

Blue doesn't know what to say to that. If she should feel sorry for this person or not. She didn't state her husband's death in a sorrowful way, merely factual. As they walk, they pass a few men hunched over tree stumps, chopping wood. The smell of fresh earth and spilt sap wafts up her nose. The men glance up, their gazes lingering on Blue a moment too long, making her shift uncomfortably. Then, they lower their heads respectfully toward the woman. She speaks to them in French, and their chuckles follow her words.

Under a warm afternoon, they approach what looks like a large barn, bordered by wooden fence posts strung with taut wires. Inside the fenced area, Blue notices a white horse, smaller than Cherry, along with four cows. More men are working nearby, some tending to the animals while others, farther off, wield sickles to harvest stalks of wheat.

When they stop in front of the fence, Blue can't stop herself from asking, "Where are all the girls at? Like the one who fed us? I've only seen guys so far."

The woman doesn't look at her. "Our community is built around the roles God intended for us. Men have bodies made for working under the sun. Women, like those beautiful young ladies you traveled with, are vessels to be cherished, protected. Especially in these times when they have become rather scarce."

A few of the words fail to make sense to Blue, never having learned them from any of the books Ghost read her. "Um, is that why you separated the girls in my group from the men?"

She hums, a slow sound. "Women are kept in their own quarters with the infants."

"Okay," Blue rocks on her feet and grips the hem of the dress before the light air can catch it. So is her dad one of those men working, then? She quints, confused, and shakes her head. No; if he was anywhere out here, he would've come to her. He must be locked up, too. A wave of anger buzzes in her chest, louder than the cicadas. "That still doesn't explain why you are holding Twix and Nereida prisoner. If women are so special, why are they locked up and I am out here? And where are all the men from my group?" Her mind briefly flashes to the others; Kyle, Price, and... Ari. 

"None of them are prisoners, child. They are merely being readied for the role their bodies were created for, by God."

Blue grits her teeth. "You're not really answering my questions. What about me? Why did you bring me to," she glances back at the working men, who haven't stopped to look at her like the others had, too engrossed in the strenuous labor. "A fucking farm. What could you possibly want to show me here?"

"There is someone I need here before our next stop." She leans closer to the barbed fence and calls out, "Pierre! J'ai besoin de toi et de trois hommes pour nous accompagner jusqu'à la cale. Apporte les chaînes."

A man—Pierre, she guesses—strikes one of the cattle's hindquarters, wipes sweat from the back of his neck, then shouts in French to three others following behind him. They unlatch a gate in the fence and slip inside a small shed for a brief moment, emerging with rusted chains in hand. They approach, causing Blue to falter and step back. An old, strange woman is one thing, but three strong men are another. A fissure of terror cracks through her, and she inhales shakily.

"You need not be afraid."

She blinks up at the woman, who for a moment, conjures something similar to a comforting expression. Blue nods, and then they are walking again, with the four men trailing behind them. The sound of the chains dangling in their grasp makes her feel uneasy. What are they for, and why are they coming with them? She is ready to build the bravery to ask when the woman ghosts a hand on her shoulder.

"What is your name, child?"

"It's... um, Blue."

A soft chuckle. "The English and their strangeness. This is not your real name, is it?"

For some reason, Blue finds the truth stuttering out of her. "No, it's—the name I was born with is Amelia."

"Amelia. Much better. Tell me, Amelia, did your mother have blue eyes?"

Blue nearly chokes, her footsteps halting in the grass as she flinches away from her hand, curling her fingers into fists. "What the fu—why are you asking me that?"

The woman stops beside her and clasps her hands together, the long sleeves of her gown falling over them. She is small woman, hardly taller than Blue, and can't be any stronger than she is, but something about her emits control. Blue can't look away from her eyes, even as her jaw tightens, stomach swirling.

"They are many answers to questions that can be discovered on their own if one simply looks for them. I know which one of them is your father—"

"How could you know?" Blue demands. "I haven't even said any of them was my dad."

Thin lips twitch at the side. "A daughter gets the shape of her face from her father." A bony finger reaches to trail the edge of Blue's cheek, and she trembles from the cold feel of it. "But the features are all from her mother." She looks away and continues walking, speaking over her shoulder, "A little dove might have also told me he was asking for you."

When the men step forward, Blue is forced to continue walking. It feels hard to breathe, even though the canopy of trees offer fresh, rich air. "Then why are you asking about my mother?"

"Your eyes are blue, but your father's are not. I was simply curious."

"My mother is dead," Blue finds herself gritting out. 

"I figured. Neither of those women were her, and many mothers have been lost. A very terrible thing. A child needs its mother. You will call me Maman, Amelia. This is what French children call their mothers."

"I am not going to fucking call you that. Tell me where we are going," Blue presses, swallowing as she looks back at the farm behind them. Through the gaps between the men's shoulders, she sees that it is rather distant now, along with the small homes. She looks back ahead; nothing but overgrown vegetation. Even the flowers have grown sparse over here. It is quiet and still. She can hear the thrum of her own heart.

"Your fire is admirable, but you need to learn respect." For the first time, Maman's voice carries an edge, one that sends a shiver down Blue's spine. A foreign bird call echoes through the leaves, and the woman holds up a hand, signaling for everyone to stop and listen. "Ah. That’s the Bluethroat, if I’m not mistaken. Much rarer than the dove. You won't often find those in England."

The bird calls again—a trilled chirp—as they crest over a small hill, and the air suddenly grows heavier, more pungent. A smell Blue knows well makes her freeze, but a strong grip on her arm keeps her moving toward the source of the stench: an old, smaller building made of much darker stone. The sharp rustle of wings through the trees fades into the distance, but the tension in her body doesn’t ease.

"You, too, are rare, Amelia," Maman continues, voice steady and unhurried. "A pure, young female like you—so virtuous—carries more favor from God than any other. Your friends have their purpose, and you have yours. Each of us plays a part in shaping the new vision of God's children."

The men move in front of them now, except for one who continues gripping Blue. The tremble in her body intensifies, and a cold pit grows unbearable in her chest, thundering. She is forced to stand about four meters in front of the large door, where one man grips the handle while two others, including Pierre, stand beside it, their hands ready with chains and their stances wide. It’s now, through the stinging film that grows over her eyes, that Blue notices large metal muzzles attached to the chains.

Blue is too stunned—too confused, yet frightfully aware—to move a muscle when Maman procures a knife from inside her robe. Pierre shouts something in French, but Blue can barely hear him. Her senses are fixed on the bead of sunlight glinting off the knife, and on the scratching and snarling she hears from the other side of the door.

"Please—" she gasps, unable to finish the thought.

Maman ignores her in favor of snatching hold of her wrist. Cold fingers force her arm to extend, and a burning pain cries out when the knife slashes a laceration from her elbow to the rim of her palm. 

"Une seule coupure pour les attirer."

The blood weeps, and the door shakes from the ignited frenzy behind it.

Tears finally escape Blue’s eyes just before the door opens. She feels it—the sensation of her body being torn apart beneath rotten teeth. She squeezes her eyes shut, thinking of Ghost, when she hears more shouting and the harsh sound of chains being whipped through the air. When she opens her eyes again, the men are wrestling two Greys into the muzzles.

"Deux c'est bien!" Maman orders, and the door is slammed shut over the others that threaten to spill out toward the fresh wound. 

Blue is alive.

Her arm numb and bleeding. 

Maman yanks something else from her robe—a strip of cloth. She wraps it roughly around Blue's forearm, then issues another command. Without warning, Blue is hoisted from the ground and callously tossed over the shoulder of the man who had held her in place. They start heading back the way they came, the leashed Greys trailing behind them, and finally, a scream rips from Blue’s throat.

"You said this one was intact?" "Yes, Maman." "We will offer her pure body to the Lord. The other two will be fit to have children." "But she is a… I mean, yes, Maman." "Pierre! I need you and three men to accompany us to the hold. Bring the chains." "One cut to attract them.” “Two is good!”

Took you Like a Shot

Pairings- Rich Frat/fuckboi Toru x Preppy Sorority reader

Summary- One VERY drunk encounter between your greatest rival ever - on your last day of college- leads to you being knocked up. Satoru Gojo, a fuckboy, fratboy, rich little jerk, has been a rival of yours since you all met in College, every damn grade you fought for he got with ease. He crashed every Sorority party you threw. The two of you are so infamous in your rivalry, your friend groups were rivals, and for some reason, life is playing some damn joke on you both. Now... you have to tell him the news - but how Satoru takes it surprises you. Can you both raise a baby together!? And do you even really know each other?

Contents/Warnings- gonna be flashbacks to the rivalry/that night, nerdjo but make him a fratboy, enemies to kind of begrudging partners, but then as the pregnancy progresses, they fall in love hehe (gojo is an idiot) - fluffy and smutty, MDNI -will have explicit sex etc- 4 parts (I THINK) in this chap- flashbacks of explicit sex with dirty talk, weed smoking (Satoru and his boys aha) mentions of sex, lots of humor, enemies to loversss- WC- this chap- 8k- art in the banner by Yuana on X

Comments and reblogs so appreciated if you enjoyy <3

Masterlist - Playlist- Chapter Two>>> (coming soon)

Chapter One

It had been an absolutely filthy night, that led to your doctor coming in and informing you three months later-

'You're pregnant'

You came in for a normal checkup, you're on the pill and you have no sex life, aside from one encounter almost three months ago. A filthy, questionable ass encounter with what so happened to be your former 'bully' - rich boy, frat boy, pretty boy, pretentious boy- Satoru Gojo.

For years, the two of you were rivals, not just academic either, since you were both top of your class all through college, but at everything. He'd hold your notebooks high and laugh at you, he'd try to ruin and crash every sorority event he could. Known as the Queen and King of the campus, you ran the rivaling Sorority to his Fraternity. The amount of times you all had gone toe to toe was literally notorious, even your best friends hated each other on your behalf, starting an entire war between you all.

You have no clue how it happened, still, how the two of you had the best sex of your life at that damn party, fueled by drinks but also something you'd never admit- you've always wondered. Hearing those stories about his... skills, seeing his perfect body and the way his pretty lips smirked so cruelly in your direction, even after all these years- how it all led to this moment.

'Hah, sweets, ya finally admit I'm good at something?' Satoru had murmured in your ear, while he'd had you bent right over some bed at some party- both of you were seniors in college on your last and final party, finally you thought you'd be rid of him, of this ass of a man. He was going to live the rich life, working for his family, and you were moving on to a whole different career.

'One t-thing... that's it...' You had cried out when his cock had shoved in so deep, making you cum all over him, his fingers gripping your hips while he'd pumped deeper and deeper, impossibly until he'd been right on your cervix. 'F-fuck!'

'Fuck... you had a pussy like this and we've been fighting!?' Satoru is whispering, resting his snowy locks against your neck, biting it with sharp teeth as you milk his cock. 'So greedy, huh?'

'S-shut up, mnh- just... keep... there, there shit!' Satoru had slammed right against your cervix, feeling you pulsing around him, it had been too good, too tight, too fucking wet, he'd paused then, looking at your arched ass, your skirt shoved over your hips. 'Keep g-going, please...'

'M'gonna cum, tho-she's too tight- shit can I?' 

Your drunk ass had said- sure. You're precise on that pill, every day your alarm goes off in the morning, you take it. How could...

"Pregnant!?" You repeat. Unbelievable. No fucking way. You...

"Yes sweetie I suggest prenatal and an ultrasound, hmm?" The nurse says so sweetly, as you feel sick to your stomach, which your hand goes down to touch.

Pregnant. With rich, notorious fuckboy Satoru Gojo’s baby- now you would have to tell him!?

Shit.

You take the results in a shaky hand, mind swirling as the doctor goes on and on, some crazy distant humming in your head, there’s no way, it can’t be. You’re literally starting your journalism career, thinking you’d maybe gained a few pounds from stress and ramen, the interning was absolutely brutal, you’re never regular on your periods, hence the birth control in the first place.

Running coffees here and there, grabbing this and that for everyone above you, but you were now officially hired, and you were making good money for once, finally able to pay down some of your pesky student loans and get a nice car. You worked hard for it, for everything, despite many thinking leading a sorority meant you came from money, you were a scholarship girl.

That’s a huge reason you and Satoru always clashed, born with a silver spoon in his mouth, easily acing every test that you busted your ass for, things came easy to him, you worked for it. Achieving the highest you could in your graduating class, the little shit that came to school hungover grinned right next to you, like a goddamn plague, and you hoped that finally he was gone for good.

What bonded two people like you now?

Well…

“Do you need to go over your options, hunny?” One of the nurses says, touching your shoulder with a gentle smile, you shake your head then, clearing your throat.

“I just need to… think.”

You’re pacing back and forth in your apartment, feet padding gently along the hardwood floor, cell phone in your hand, staring at the phone number that just got sent to you by Shoko. She was Satoru’s friend and yours, which was rare given the ongoing student warfare zone you all created. You’d texted her a simple- hey do you have Gojo’s number- not going into details.

How do you even tell him?

What do you say!?

You psych yourself up, finally dialing it, when he picks up the phone after the second ring, murmuring - “Hello.” God, even him answering what he assumes is a stranger is snarky.

“Um, hey.” Gojo pauses at the sound of your voice, faltering just for a moment, as his friends bounce a basketball around a court outside, he sits down on the bench, vivid images filling his head. “It’s-”

“Think I don’t know your annoying voice by heart, sweetheart?” You roll your eyes, sighing and plopping down on your couch.

“Yeah, well… I got your number from Shoko.”

“Need a second round? Should have guessed.” He’s gesturing to Suguru and Sukuna, who roll their eyes at him, and he puts his voice down an octave. “I could be convinced.”

“Jesus christ, Gojo.” You almost hang up, feeling your tummy tighten then, almost nauseous, realizing you had to talk to him. “Are you, I don’t know, um… free for lunch or anything?” You despise the words falling from your lips.

“Asking me on a date, huh? So bold, I like it.” Satoru winks now at his friend’s shocked expressions, muting for a moment, telling them it was you.

“No fucking way.” Sukuna says, Suguru snorts in laughter and Satoru just grins, unmuting you again.

“I guess I could be convinced.” He purrs out those words, chuckling. “Hmm, we could go to that nice place on Hollywood ave hmm? Perfect Sushi.”

Your tummy growls, but then you frown, remembering that Sushi is on your damn list not to eat, you curse internally, peering at this list of everything you should never do or consume, and it specifically says raw fish right there. “Do they have cooked Sushi there?”

“Pshh, you’re such a prissy ass, can’t eat raw huh? Didn’t mind it raw from what I remember.” You hate this man.

“You know what never-”

“Shit, I was just kidding.” He panics, thinking you hung up, hearing your irritated sigh then. “Yeah I think they do. Why do you even wanna hang out, ya wanna nag me in person?” He spins his basketball effortlessly on his finger, acting all calm, as if he wasn’t dying to be buried in your perfect pussy again. “Miss being bitchy to me so bad?”

God he wanted to have you on his face, have you sucking him, he wanted for so much more than you all got to do, drunken fingers and your muted cries as he’d had a big hand tight over your mouth. His cock twitches under his basketball shorts just remembering how slick and hot you were, god how you fucking felt gripping him so damn tight.

Satoru had felt you pulsing around him as he reached his arm around you, pressing his fingertips to your clit in circles, as you’re crying out against his palm, practically drooling against him. ‘There you go, cumming so easy f’me huh?’ he taunts, as his own eyes roll back, feeling your pussy drool against his hand.

‘Mnh!’ was all you managed to murmur against his hand, as he feels your gummy walls spasm around his cock, his blue eyes roll back at how perfect you feel, how long he’s dreamed of this.

‘F-finally got you to shut up, hmm?’ He taunts you, normally you’d have something smart to say, but not as he’s overstimulating your little clit, pulling it away as you damn near collapse on the mattress, your thighs shaking, he wants to kiss you so bad, but you’re burying your face, arching your ass.

‘F-fuck you, Gojo- ah!’

The memories are so vivid Satoru can barely calm his thoughts, hearing you say his name in that irritated little voice, the one that drove him insane from day fucking one, the moment he’d met you. Prissy little thing with so much to prove, he thinks you still feel that way, which the biggest secret Satoru had for you had almost spilled on that last drunken night, the night he was inside you was…

He's always wanted you, not that he'd ever admit that however.

Ever.

“Is like three okay?” You're interrupting his thoughts now, as he clears his throat.

“Three rounds?”

You’re scowling at the phone as you question your life’s choices at this very moment. “Three o'clock, my god, for lunch.”

“Sounds good, it gives us time later, to… you know.” You glare at the phone, unbelievable, he’s ridiculous! 

“Time for what?” Satoru chuckles at your high pitched question.

“Don't be shy, sweets, no need to pretend. I remember it all in vivid detail, every little bit.” Your cheeks heat up, hand clutching the phone tightly, trying to calm yourself and focus.

“Just lunch, that’s all I’m asking you for. Sounds good?”

“Want me to pick you up in my-”

“No, I'll meet you. Okay um…. Bye.” You hang up, breath coming quickly, you couldn't just tell him on the damn phone, this needed to be in person.

The thought of his pretty yet annoying ass presence damn near makes your head spin… would he think it's all a joke? Some scam to get with him or get money?

You're fucking terrified, standing and staring in the mirror, rubbing your tummy and frowning as you do. A damn baby… Likely raising it alone, knowing Satoru all these years, partying, insane and so immature. Even on the phone, he’s so damn cocky and self sure, that this must absolutely be what you want, to have him, as if you are over here pining away.

The sex was amazing to put it lightly, and sure if he was a decent guy, and not a fucking ass of a man, you’d have done it again, but the walk of shame that morning had been the most embarrassing day of your life. His little smirk after you woke up, plump lips too damn glossy for his own good, yawning and stretching half naked, cock already hard as he’d tapped his lap.

‘Another round, sweets? Come to daddy.’

You scoff even at the memory, at the audacity of fuckboi Satoru Gojo, you had run out so quickly he hadn’t had a moment to speak, and you swore to yourself never, ever again. Who cared if his cock was so big it hit places you didn’t know existed, and who cared if you’ve never felt that way, fuck you wish he actually wasn’t as good at it as he was.

Perfect at everything, infuriatingly, even fucking.

You get a text from the guy you were currently at least flirting with a bit here and there, the one you suggested going on a date, and then it all starts to hit, you’re pregnant and quite likely going to be some single mom. You couldn’t just go on dates, everything is completely different, maybe forever truly.

“Twenty Two year old single mom.” You grumble, sighing a bit as you text him you’re busy.

Busy.

*****

Satoru waits nervously at the restaurant, he doesn’t really do dates, he usually spends his time in the bedroom with a girl then runs right off. Shit, he’s never even gone without a condom before you, but when you’d said hurry up and put it in, who the fuck was he to tell you no? Not only had it felt superb, he never wanted to leave that perfect pussy.

Of course you would have the most perfect pussy.

You had to be the best at everything, all the time, didn’t you? Always competing for that top spot, but Satoru always just barely got past you, that .01% of that GPA, winning every contest over you always by just a tiny bit. From the moment you glared up at him and crossed your arms, he knew it, he had to do everything he could to win against your cute little ass.

Here’s the thing… Satoru never hated you, but he loves to say he does, you both say you do, or… well, said. Considering you slept with him and didn’t say a single word after, it’s not like he’s hard to find, but each of you actively refused to add each other on socials, though Satoru will admit he stalks your IG, you’re too fucking pretty not to do so, not that he’d ever like a post.

Once he accidentally did, god he wanted to be like those pathetic simps in your comments, but he’s not that, he’s Satoru Gojo. Women come to him, women come easy too, you of course were never one to come near him in that way, no you’d look at him getting smacked in the face on campus with a grin, vowing to your friends that you’d never be one of his conquests.

That night, though, it was like he lost himself, the most stupid, corny shit Satoru could think of, that last night of his freedom before being forced to take over his family’s business. You and everyone probably thought he wanted to, but of course he fucking didn’t, he didn’t want a part of the Gojo corporation in any way, shape or form.

Satoru felt lost, honestly.

Self sure, confident, conceited clearly, talking far too much shit and laughing, picking on you every chance he got, showing up to all your sorority parties in various stages of undress to lure your friends to him. He’ll never forget him, Sukuna and Suguru crashing your ABC party, wearing nothing but cut open beer boxes, and you so happened to have some white claw box made bikini.

God you’d been sexy, but when he stole all the attention? Oh he’s never seen you more mad.

Well no, he has.

Gojo loved to make you mad, because you’re so damn cute when your nose scrunches up, when your pretty eyes narrow, there was nothing like your huffs as you would cross your arms and shift your hips just so. And if there was anything Gojo was absolutely perfect at, amongst well damn near everything, it was making you absolutely furious.

Finally Satoru sees you, dressed in this pretty blue summer dress that juts out just a bit at the waist, making his heart race for just a moment at how pretty you are. It’s not like he forgot… but god. Are your tits bigger he wonders, or is he just obsessed with them, as always, looking too hard. Your cheeks are this beautiful color, your eyes so bright, like… some damn glow about you.

How corny is he lately.

He puts on a smirk as he leans back, waving with his fingers to gesture you over, and you look at him so damn seriously, sitting across from him, hands entwined together in front of you on the table for a moment, as you eye him carefully. “Gojo, um… how are you?’

Who the fuck is this girl in your body!?

You don’t nervously ask shit, you tell Gojo to fuck off, you glare or scowl while he smirks, what’s this… shy ass shit? He frowns a bit now, you exhale and slide off your purse, letting it sit on the seat next to you, he can’t stop staring at your lips, clearly bitten to fucking hell.

He tries to feign that he’s fine, that he hasn’t missed you, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. He missed your daily arguments on campus, he missed you being a total brat. He misses your scent, god that vanilla sugar body spray was haunting his very dream.

He acts as if he hadn’t died to hit you up, but he stopped himself. He couldn’t go that far, not with you, not with what you did to him, how you’ve damn near destroyed any game for himself any longer. That one night with you had sunk into him so deeply, he wishes it was just good pussy, and not whatever this was.

He’s jerked it off to you every fucking night since, to the point is damn dick doesn’t even work, he sure also wouldn’t admit that he can’t even fuck a girl because you were so good. Some evil witch that did something, it must be, he has at this point just given up trying, until whatever curse you gave him falls the fuck off.

But god you look good in front of him.

He should tell you, but instead he swipes a hand through his silky white locks and smirks right at you. “Missed me so badly, sweets?”

You roll your pretty eyes as the menu comes, smiling and thanking the hostess, a smile reserved for anyone in the world but him, even when he’d had you cumming all over him, you weren’t smiling. No, but you were drooling then.

‘Ah, look at you, so fuckin pathetic f’me, huh? Thought you hated me, sorority brat’ Satoru had huffed, as he’d fingered your cunt, curling inside of your slick walls, watching your pretty fucked out face. ‘Just from fingers?’

‘I do h-hate you- mnh!’ Your sparkly manicured nails dug into his broad shoulders as your tight walls convulsed around him, as he hit that spot that no man had ever found in a moment.

Perfect at everything, stupid Satoru.

‘Feel her, god she’s so desperate, huh?’

“Fuck you I- there, shit!’ you’d rolled your hips, grinding right on his hand, pussy drooling as you came from his fingers before he’d even put his cock inside you, and Satoru’s cock was leaking against his boxers, twitching as he pictures how perfect you’d felt around him. ‘Fuck you for being so g-good at that!’

‘Oh, I’ll fuck you, sweetheart.’ He’d turned you then, whispering a ‘bend over, just like that, gonna be a big stretch, hmm?’

Satoru struggles to calm his memory, focusing on that sexy mouth of yours moving, realizing words are coming out of them, blinking to focus.

“How are you doing, Gojo?” You ask softly, always Gojo, you never called him Satoru, and he always called you sweets, short stuff, your last name, also never your first.

But he wanted to call you a lot of things, one of them being-

Stop that Satoru.

“I’m doing great, of course, miss me so much?” He teases, winking at you and sipping on the sickeningly sweet Shirley temple he’d had them buy, you just grab a water, hand flitting to your tummy for a moment. “You’re not sick are you?”

“No, not sick just… yeah we needed to talk. Is that okay?”

Satoru leans forward, raising a thin white brow. “You seem weird, everything okay?”

“Well… shit. I guess I’ll just say this. Um…” You tuck your hair behind your ear, looking out the window at the bustling city for a moment, before looking back at him. “Remember that night?”

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to do all this to have a repeat.” His hand comes to your thigh, and that’s when you curse this pregnancy, because your nipples tighten, your cunt gets hot and wet from that.

Fuck hormones.

You take a breath, glaring as you always do at Satoru, the only time you never had was when he’s had your face with a slutty O for your mouth, your eyes rolled back, nails gripping those sheets. You shove his hand off, hoping he couldn’t feel your heat that quickly, as your body responds stupidly in a damn sushi restaurant.

“It’s not that, it’s important. Can you ever be serious in your life!?” You say quietly, and it’s his turn to glare, taking his hand back, sipping his drink again.

“Well just spit it out. What is all this, then?”

“It’s… I… You…” Shit, if ever you needed a drink it was now, and you damn sure wouldn’t have one for a good six months or more.

“It’s… I…. You…” He mocks, and you stand then, so furious your heart is racing, snatching up your purse.

“Never mind, I should have known you’re-”

“Shit, just sit. Sorry. Okay?” He grips your delicate wrist in his big hand, and even that is wrecking you, against your better judgement and everything you feel. “I’m sorry, it seems… serious. Just sit down and spit it out.”

You sit back down now, shifting as you both make your orders, a thankful distraction. As the waitress leaves, you sigh. “I don’t want anything from you, first off, so don’t think that.”

“What?” He blinks in confusion.

“I don’t need help, I can do it myself.”

“Do what!?”

“But you have to know… it’s the right thing to do, to tell you.” You look up at the ceiling, gathering your thoughts.

“Is this… are you in love with me, because of how good it was? Shit, that’s okay baby, everyone-”

“I’m pregnant.”

“What!?” You just sit there, seriously staring, as he blinks, looking at fuller breasts, your damn glow, thinking of every dumb thing he’s heard. “You’re… by who?” He whispers, and you flush then, shifting in your seat, sipping more of your water, condensation cool on your hot palm, your skin is burning, heart is racing.

“I was on the pill, religiously, I swear, I never missed one. Shit, until I found out I never missed… I… never would have done it like we did if I knew.” You feel sick as he gapes at you, his pretty blue eyes bulging out damn near, his mouth dropped open. “I expect no help, no involvement, we’re young. I just-”

“This a joke, right?” You take another breath, hand gripping the glass, eyeing those around you all, engulfed in conversations.

“It’s not a joke.” He’s laughing now, smacking his thigh, and your jaw tenses as he does.

“It’s you and your damn friends, someone recording!? Hah-”

“It’s not a joke.” You clear your throat now, leaning in your purse and pulling out the papers, with your name, the results, watching his expression shift, brows drawing low, his jaw tense. “It’s only been you, no one else for an entire year.”

“A whole year?” He eyes you again, and you flush under his gaze, as his hands shake, hands you’ve never seen shake, hands that dribble basketballs, that tossed footballs, all with ease.

Hands that…

Fuck, don’t think of it.

“I’m not… I was too busy.” Besting Gojo, competing with Gojo, you had no time for shit with him, your anger at him shone so brightly it was hard to think about men. “As I said, you don’t need to pay for anything, this isn’t that conversation, this is just me letting you know. I’m keeping it.”

Satoru continues to blink at you, staring open mouthed, at your face, then your body, then back to your face, over and over, while the waitress brings out the food, smiling curiously at the two of you. Satoru doesn’t make a move to touch his food, running his hand through his now messy white locks again, as his mind spins.

“I know you’re wealthy, I don’t want you thinking I want some piece of it. I’ll take care of them alone, please don’t worry.” You touch your tummy, the motion making Satoru fucking feral in some way he can’t put together, just continuing to stare at you in utter shock as the sushi sits in front of the two of you. “I can leave, now, we don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?” He murmurs finally, voice hoarse.

“Act like we are civil, act like we’re anything but college enemies, fucking rivals, not even friends. God I know you hate me, I know this was a mistake.”

“A mistake?” He whispers.

“Yes, for both of us. You don’t deserve your life uprooted, sure I can’t stand you, but this is my fuck up. I said those words…”

‘Cum in me, f-fucking cum in me, mnh…’ you’d arched your back, as his long fingers wrapped your throat, god he’d never felt anything like you.

‘Want me to fill your pussy s’good, huh lil brat?’ you just whine, muscles clenching on his cock, and he’d groaned in your ear then, shoving deep inside your drooly cunt. ‘Beg for it, then’

Oh, you had.

You hated him for it.

“It’s my fault, so don’t worry. But I wanted to be transparent, but I am… indeed, pregnant.”

“Pregnant, like, with a baby?” Satoru whispers, and You giggle then, for the first time since you found out, covering your mouth just a bit as he just stares.

“Yeah, a baby.”

“Mine…” His words send something through the both of you.

“Yours, but only if you want to be involved. I know it was a hate fuck, we’re young, we have lives-”

“You got a… like that scan shit set up?”

“Ultrasound?” He nods, nervously, hands clenching the table so hard you see the veins popping up through his thin skin. “I do, next week. I mean it is a couple months already, so I will see something, not like… the sex but…”

“Can I go?”

You blink in shock now. “You want to?”

“Yeah. I mean… why wouldn’t I?” He rubs the back of his neck, as the life he thought, the mundane one of following his damn family, of being a pawn in a bigger scheme, everything flashes.

It changes.

He’s scared shitless, but…

“I want to be involved. If you want me to be.” You blink back tears, but you fail, and if it’s one thing, Satoru Gojo has never seen his preppy ass Sorority rival cry, not fucking once.

He falters as those tears run down your cheeks, he leans over, hesitantly, the only physical contact aside from that fateful night was him shoving at you teasingly, or you smacking at him. Shit you all hadn’t hugged, you never even kissed aside from that night, sloppy and messy. But he doesn’t stop, until his thumb brushes your cheek, and you gasp.

“Shit I’m crying. Stupid hormones.” You huff now, swiping at your own eyes with shaky little hands. “You really wanna go?”

“Yeah if it’s cool?”

Satoru’s shocking you, the world tilts on its axis, like you’re having some insane dream. This can’t be real, can it? It’s fuckboi, frat boy Gojo, the man who goes through girls like they’re candy, the man who takes nothing serious, who has the world handed to him.

“Gojo, if you want to go of course you can, to any and all appointments, but you’re under no obligation, and please know I can cover the costs.”

“I know you’d never take my money, shit even if I offered, stubborn ass little brat that you are.” You manage a breathless giggle, the second one, realizing he is still brushing that thumb against your cheek, before he clears his throat. “So, tell me what day, I'll be there.”

“Yeah, are you sure? It will make it so… real, you know?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Now eat your cooked sushi, aren’t you like eating for two or some shit?”

You take your chopsticks with a shaky hand, exhaling. “I was reading, I think they are like the size of a pea maybe. But, this is yummy looking.”

“Gonna be a huge ass baby, shit.”

“Oh god!” You eye his lanky body, and he’s grinning, Satoru is grinning!? Shocking you further.

Maybe you don’t know him like you think?

“Tits are gonna get so big.”

Never mind.

*****

“An ultrasound!? A baby? Fuck…” Suguru Geto inhales the blunt, sucking the smoke into his lungs as Satoru nervously paces Sukuna and Suguru’s apartment, Satoru chose to live in his own place, closer to work. But he frequently gets shitfaced and crashes out at their place.

“Sounds fucking insane, shit.” Sukuna chuckles, as he’s hitting a bong, inhaling and exhaling, broad shoulders shaking as he coughs. “You look like you could use a hit or something.

“Before the ultrasound? Shit I need more than weed. I’m freaking the fuck out right now.”

“Imagine you as a dad though hah!” Sukuna smacks his thigh, as Satoru glares now, stopping his pacing while the music plays, the same music Satoru remembers doing keg stands and playing beer pong in togas to, only to now have the possibility of being responsible for a whole human being.

“Can’t even keep a plant alive, shit.” Suguru says in between laughs, and Satoru raises a white brow at the two of them on the couch.

“You two are so supportive.”

“Well shit, she said you don’t have to be involved, you can always just like… send money and shit? Do you really want a whole kid?” Sukuna asks, and Satoru takes a breath, pacing once more as he runs hands through disheveled hair over and over.

“Do I want a whole kid, no, I never even… I mean I figured eventually, as the Gojo heir, blah blah blah.” Satoru slumps in a nearby recliner, as Suguru hands him the blunt, frowning a bit now.

“You do need a hit. You’re young, it’s not time to give your family fuckin’ heirs yet, is it?”

“They’d probably be delighted.” Satoru rolls those cerulean eyes, inhaling the smoke into his lungs and leaning back, staring up at the ceiling, as the black fans above them swirl, moving the puffy clouds of smoke all around. His nostrils fill with the scent of the Sativa, wishing he could make sense of his thoughts. “Not delighted that it’s out of wedlock and unplanned.”

“Imagine her marrying you.” Sukuna and Suguru laugh loudly again, as Satoru hits the blunt again, not passing it.

“The fucks that mean?”

“She hates you. God I think more than anyone.” Suguru says, and Satoru smirks just a bit.

“She sure didn’t hate this dick.”

“Oh!” He’s slapping hands with his friends as Sukuna and Suguru start to make the most obscene gestures, while you call, and he shushes them quickly, trying to compose himself.

“Hello?”

“Gojo, hey. Um, ultrasound is in an hour, I’m heading out soon if you want to meet up?”

“Why don’t I have my driver pick you up?” He asks, and Suguru and Sukuna continue the gestures, making Satoru snort in laughter, the weed starting to enter his bloodstream.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I just thought it would be more convenient in this traffic.” He shoots a wink at his friends.

“I mean… sure?” Satoru mouths yes, pumping his fist, clearing his throat now.

“It’ll be easier this way, alright send me your addy I’ll head out.”

“All right.” You just hang up, such a rude little thing. Satoru has changed your name to Sorority Brat in his phone for a good reason.

“What are you gonna do though, man?” Suguru murmurs thoughtfully, his dark violet eyes narrowed, clearly blitzed. “Gonna like… be with her?”

“Could cum in her whenever now.” Sukuna bursts out in laughter as Satoru glares at the two of them.

“Grow up…” They blink at him, then Satoru grins wide. “Nah, that would be a perk, because her pussy my god.”

They both scooch up, elbows on their thighs, avidly staring at Satoru now. “Details, man, it’s like the one girl you never told us about?” Sukuna asks.

“Because you’re in love.”

“Pshh, in love!?”

“Haven’t seen you with anyone since.” Suguru earns Satoru’s middle finger, as he puts out the blunt, stretching and earning their pouts.

“Bet she’s so good, though, all angry and shit, bet she’s a freak.” Satoru doesn’t even know if you’re a freak necessarily, but as Suguru agrees, he glares at them both, crossing his arms.

“This has been the worst pep talk in fucking history.”

“Shit, what’s your decision?” Suguru asks, and Satoru’s mind races, peeking at his watch now.

“I think I’ll make it when I like… see it?”

“Alright big Daddy, then if you decide to be involved we’ll be like… their uncles and shit.” Suguru says, and Satoru grimaces.

“God no, you’ll ruin my kid.”

“Fuck off now.” Sukuna starts hitting his blunt again, Satoru walks out away from them and spritzes cologne all along himself, he knows your prissy self never smoked weed, no you were a little goodie goodie. He thinks the only time he saw you drink was a little at parties, but never like that last night.

He remembers just looking at you asleep when he’d woken up, and the tenderness he felt when he had brushed your hair off your pretty face, and you’d stirred a bit. For a moment he felt his heart hammer in his chest, stone cold sober, seeing the bite marks he’d left on your delicate skin, feeling affection like he couldn’t describe, Satoru never felt that way.

He didn’t cuddle, he didn’t linger.

He ran out before they could wake up, he ran out like you did to him, perhaps he was a little nicer about it, though, you’d given no fucks when you darted out the damn door in a hurry. He had acted cocky though, full on hard just by the damn thought of your slick sticking to his cock, but instead of perhaps kissing you, he’d patted his lap and been a little shit.

He hated the recognition on your face, like he’d been a mistake, so he decided to shove you out of his brain, though he clearly failed.

Jogging down the stairs, he has his driver sent in your direction, and you get the text he’s there, stepping out in front of your little house, cute Satoru thinks, it’s small but it’s immaculate from the exterior. You have pink flowers and succulents all over the front of it when he steps out, eyeing your pretty dress, nerves starting to eat at him, but he puts on an easy smile.

“Ready to go see this little parasyte?’

“A what!?”

“Technically, it sort of is. Right, you’re like its host.” Your mouth is wide open, as you touch your tummy, and he curses. “Shit…”

“A parasyte, you’re calling our… I mean I guess my… the baby a-”

“I’m sure it’s a cute parasyte? It has a pretty host.” Satoru tries to put on the charm, the smolder, as you stare at him in shock.

Was it shocking, this was Gojo.

“Dear God.”

How’d you end up pregnant with this idiot’s baby?!

You slide into the car as you shake your head, and he covers his face, grimacing as he realizes he just told his… god what even were you, a baby mama!? That his baby was a… parasyte. Well, it is, and Satoru would typically just argue with you and let you know he’s correct and you’re wrong, but he keeps quiet, feeling you seething.

“Fire signs.” He mumbles, you look at him again.

“What?”

“You’re a fire sign, it’s why you’re so feisty. I am too, you know.” You relax just a bit, curiously.

“You believe in astrology?” You ask in shock, for as long as you’ve known Satoru Gojo, the two of you don’t really know each other.

“Baby I’m the most Saggitarius man there is.” You giggle again, fuck that’s three giggles Satgoru has counted, and how it lights up your already glowing makes him ache for you, suddenly realizing one of his long legs is brushing against you. Your warmth alone makes him throb, the vanilla sugar filling the space in the car.

“You certainly are the epitome of a Saggitarius. Don’t call me feisty, yuck.” You shove at him playfully almost, pausing a bit when you realize his body feels far too good against yours.

You may or may not have masturbated last night, and he may or may not have popped in your head, over and over. But, don’t worry, because Satoru has spent months jerking his thick length to the thought of you, not that either of you would admit that it may or may not have happened.

“This baby would be a fire sign.” You murmur then, letting your hand fall, and nervously fidgeting, Gojo’s long limbs take over so much of the car, as big as it is, Gojo’s always taken over everything, even apparently your senses.

“Would it?” He asks quietly, for once just a little serious it seems.

“Yeah, an Aries if it comes when it should.”

“So it’ll be a brat like you.”

“Psh, like you.” You roll your eyes, and the two of you fall into a bit of a silence, so much unspoken between you. “Do you know if…”

“That’s why I want to see. Make it real?”

You actually nod in understanding, surprising him then. “I get it.”

The ultrasound tech is rolling the wand over cold gel soon, as you’re embarrassingly propped up with your feet in stirrups, and Satoru stands to the side, glaring at the man who’s inserting this wand in you. He gets angry that he’s getting such a view, he doesn’t even think he saw you that much.

What he remembers…

Your pussy is very pretty.

You wince a bit as the doctor smiles up at you. “Tight muscles, huh?”

Satoru snorts in laughter, and you glare. “What!?”

“You are so tight.”

“Gojo!” You glare, and even the doctor laughs, also earning your scowl, which makes them both sober up.

“Sorry, Miss. Alright… relax, would you?” How do you relax as a doctor is shoving a wand in your coochie and your enemy, who got you pregnant somehow, is turning red holding in his lewd thoughts!? “Look at the screen.”

You and Satoru both look over now, your breath catches then, as does his, when the doctor begins to tap keys on the keyboard, and you hear it for the first time, this little… heartbeat. It’s a heartbeat.

“There it is, congratulations you two. About… ten weeks?” You’re enamored as you stare at the screen, and he moves the wand inside you. “Look there, that’s the little baby.”

Baby.

A baby.

It’s all real.

Satoru’s completely silent as tears fill your eyes, a myriad of emotions, some that you’re so connected already to a little peanut inside you, some that you don’t know how you’ll do this, some of your life. How will it alter, how will it go, what will people think… and what does the man next to you think? What will he do!?

But overwhelmingly as you feel yourself begin to cry, and the screen turns off, you feel warmth spread, touching your tummy in wonder, there’s a damn baby in your body. Your baby. Something you never considered or thought of, you figured much, much later in life, not now.

And you’d likely be…

Alone in this.

“I’ll go get a picture printed for you two.” The doctor smiles kindly, as you’re left alone, with a for once silent Satoru Gojo.

You hesitate to look at him, a stunned expression on his face as you sit up, closing your legs and biting your lower lip, he finally looks at you and exhales, seeing your tear streaked cheeks. A girl he never knew to cry or giggle has done both, and a man you never thought to be serious or quiet… was.

“Satoru um…”

“Satoru?” He asks quietly, and you flush.

“Sorry…”

“No, I don’t mind, just… crazy. This is crazy. There’s a whole life inside you!? And we made it?” You sigh, nodding then, and he shocks you as he leans down, as you’re sitting in the bed, coming so close to you, eyes swirling storms of emotions.

“You can back out now, it’s okay. I won’t put this on you, keeping it is an insane idea but… it feels right to me?” He tilts your chin up, leaning closer, to where you can taste the sweetness of his breath, as your heart pounds right in your chest. “But if you’re backing out, do it now, it will hurt… fuck it will hurt more if you get too involved, okay? Do it now.”

“I’m not backing out of shit.” You gasp, and he exhales, wiping your tears away. “We both did this. I’ll not live in some world knowing my baby is raised with no help of mine in any way, fuck that.”

“But you-”

“I get it, we… aren’t… together. But in this I will be.”

“Satoru, I think I may have a cardiac arrest  before I get this baby out.” You sniffle and he smirks a bit.

“So unbelievable that I’d want to?”

“Yes. The Gojo I know…”

“You may not know me as well as you think. And maybe I don’t know you that much… aside from I agree about that tight-”

“I swear!” You shove at him, as he snorts in laughter, still a little shit, as they bring in two pictures, and Satoru takes one thoughtfully.

“That’s it, huh?” He tilts his head curiously. “Looks like me.”

“It looks like nothing yet, what?” You’re taking tissue and cleaning up a bit, as they give you privacy to pull back on your panties, but Satoru gives you no privacy, just looking. “You could turn?”

“Why, that’s one benefit you know.”

“What?”

“Could fuck any time, cum inside whenever.”

“Oh you wish.” You shove at his chest, and he’s grinning and wiggling his brows, grabbing your waist, pulling you against him.

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it.”

“Shut it.” Yes.

“Sex is good for pregnancy.”

“You’re so full of shit! I can’t with you. Rizzing me up at a gyno?”

“Perfect place, see that doctor, he wants a piece.”

“You’re so dumb, I swear.” You look at the picture then, thumb brushing against the baby’s… maybe it’s a face?

“Are we gonna live together?”

“I mean… what?” You eye him in shock.

“When the baby’s here.”

“No, we don’t have to do all that, we live close. Can you imagine us living together, we’d kill each other.” He envisions it, the fights surely but… the sex, and seeing you in the morning?

“Or fuck. Alot.”

“That’s how this happened.” You mumble, and soon you’re back home, and trying to ignore your body’s insane responses while he stands on your porch, looking far too fucking sexy. “Thank you for being there.”

“You thanking me? the world is ending.”

“Hush. I appreciate this, you standing by me. You don’t have to.”

“I… want to. Um, what will we say?”

You bite your lip more, until he gently takes it out from under your top row of teeth, brushing against the indentations. “We could say we’re together, if you don’t mind, dating I guess? My parents would trip if they knew it’s like…”

“Same. My parents would be happy for a Gojo heir though.” You hear it, the surprising resentment in his voice.

There’s a lot you don’t know.

“Well, I can act like I like you for them if you want.” You tease, and he leans against your doorway, so fucking tall, just looming over you, and you have to clench your hands not to give in to the temptation of touching him.

“Act like you like me- you?”

“I could! If you could act like you like me, in front of my family.”

“How will we explain the whole not living together thing?”

“It’s new, it’s 2025 Gojo, not 1810. We’ll be okay. You're so old school huh, gonna marry me?”

“You’d leave me at the altar.” You both laugh again, as he straightens up now. “Alright, so when should we tell them?”

“When you want to. So work on those acting skills. I’ll set up brunch with mine, you set up dinner with yours?”

“Sounds good. Alright don’t miss Daddy too much.” You snort and roll your eyes, turning away now.

“Daddy? Whatever.”

Satoru presses you against the door, wrapping an arm around your waist, pressing a hand gently on your tummy, splaying the expanse of it with long fingers, as your breath comes quicker and quicker. “Could swear you called me daddy when I beat up that pretty pussy hmm?”

You falter, whining softly, hating your body’s reaction, scowling right up at him, your hand on your doorknob, while this tall ass of a man makes your body light up. “Never called you daddy, no way.” Your voice is a pathetic whisper, why does he do this to you, you want to arch into his damn touch, press against his length, to the point you make yourself stiffen.

“Oh? Must have been the liquor.” He caresses your face, leaning so close you wildly think he’ll kiss you, and you know damn well you can’t handle that, not with your pussy soaking your damn panties just from this.

You hate Satoru Gojo, and he hates you.

This is… because you both are having a baby.

Right?

“It must have been.”

“Ah, I see. Good night, then sweetheart.” He leans his lips up, kissing the top of your head, a gesture so oddly sweet it doesn’t even fit him. “Text me the details, Sorority brat.”

“Sure will, Frat boy.” He sticks his tongue out as you do, walking in and leaning against the door, overwhelmed by the scent of his cologne, the feel of his hands, the memories that surfaced. You slide down it slowly, burying your face in your hands, as your body trembles with this insane need.

Shit. A baby with your enemy?

A baby with Frat Boy Gojo?

Faking that you like him, would it really be that fake?

Satoru’s leaning against it too, for just a moment, trying to compose himself… finally he’s in the back of the car again, as his driver looks  in the rearview mirror curiously, tired eyes focusing as Satoru looks at the picture again. The little peanut that’s apparently a…

A baby.

With his enemy.

An enemy he really wants to be inside again.

“Everything alright, Mr. Gojo?” Kiyotaka asks, Satoru runs a hand through his hair now, leaning back in his seat as he peers out the dark tinted windows.

“I’m having… a baby with a girl who hates me.”

“Why does she hate you?” Kiyotaka asks, driving off, as Satoru chuckles just a bit, remembering bits and pieces of college, out of order, out of sync.

“Because honestly, I was kind of a complete dick to her?”

“That’s… oddly self observant.”

“You saying I’m a dick to you?”

“No Mr. Gojo!”

“I’m kidding, relax.” Kiyotaka’s tense shoulders relax when Satoru leans forward, hand on his shoulder through the little divider that’s opened. “Do you know shit about kids at all?”

“I have nephews, they’re pretty good kids. But babies, not really.”

“I could ask my parents but they basically had nannies raise me.”

“Many nannies, I heard.”

“Well, I was a menace to be honest. Where do I learn about these… things?”

“Babies?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I think there are books?”

“Hmm.” Satoru pulls out his phone then.

Fratboy Gojo🙄(yes that’s his name in your phone now, no you’re not sorry): Should I order us baby books?

Sorority Brat💦😻(of course that’s your name in his phone): Yes, if you want to? That would be good. Thank you… for today.

Fratboy Gojo🙄: Two thank yous!? That baby is making you a mush.

Sorority Brat💦😻: Whatever!

Satoru snorts then, but when you’re in your bed later that night, nibbling on a bag of hot cheetos that have been screaming at you all day, how is that your first craving!? He writes to you again, and you pick your phone up with your clean hand, sans hot cheeto dust, rolling your eyes.

Fratboy Gojo🙄: Need some nudes for your spank bank?

You’re gonna kill him.

Sorority Brat 💦😻: Good night, Gojo.

Satoru frowns, because his dick is already in his hand, but for a moment you think about it, and would it be so bad to-

No, no no.

You aggressively eat those hot cheetos, wondering just what you were in for with that damn boy in your life now, shit forever.

“Fuck.” You’ll never drink again.

I say four parts but I feel like this is gonna be long aha, bc god Gojo is a lil shithead hehe (as I like him) this just a teensy bit similar to the Knocked Up movie premise so expect a LOT of humor here! <3

Taglist one- @jannythewriter-pt2 @gojosoups @lycoris-radiata-4-sale @cutiepi-iee @poisonousspiderlily @closerbutnevertogether @myahfig4 @shokosbunny @coq1myun @rinny27 @abibliolife @coq1myun @megumisthirdog @p4lli @turtlebangtan @webshooterrr9 @aldebrana @msqudo18 @s0ulsnatchaaa @ovela @midnaamethyste @nearlyfuckingwitches @shibataimu @msniks @missthatgirl @fantasy1nightmare0 @maddyhehehehhe @yourst3pm0mmy @haithamsbb @rentheannihilator @ilovebeansyay @lemonswirlz @dilfkentolover @evelynxxo @bkgnotsuma @suki91 @burntasian @nakiich @hyunjinsruinedpainting @miniv1x3n @minascasket @ihrtmack @contaminatedcupcake @girlwithn0j0b @tokyi999 @vamqyx @queenofthekill @verriees @vullzo @jkslaugh97

The Mask I Live With - Simon POV Of Crash

tw: injury; gunfire

Had a few people want to know what was Simon thinking during this time of the wreckage, and I loved the requests for it. This is that chapter, so I hope you all enjoy :)

Every sound felt amplified around them—every footstep, every time someone shifted in their gear, every breath through a comms mic.

They moved fast and low along the ridge, cutting a narrow path between boulders and dry brush. Each of them moved with routined precision... but Simon's mind was anywhere but here. The tension in his shoulders hadn't let up since they got off the helo. He felt like it was the countdown to something wrong. He couldn't figure out what, but his instincts were screaming that it was coming. 

Then of course.... it came.

"Danny?!" Your voice tore through the comms, loud and panicked.

He froze, breath catching in his throat.

"Shit—HOLD ON!"

His head snapped up, heart pounding in his chest before he saw it..... the dark silhouette of the helo in the barely lit sky jerking violently, trailing smoke as it spiraled in the distance. From where they were, it looked like it had been yanked straight out of the air. A streak of fire ignited the tail, followed by a sharp burst of orange as something exploded mid-flight.

"Tango-1 we're hit! We're going down! We—"

Static.

Silence.

"No." Simon whispered under his breath, legs already moving before he registered it. He broke formation, sprinting toward the edge of the slope to get a better view.

"Ghost!" Price's voice barked over the channel. 

But he didn't stop. He couldn't... not when he just heard you scream; not when the helo was falling out of the sky like that. There were rules. Protocol. Orders. But none of that meant anything right now.

He'd felt fear before..... anger....... but this? This was different.

This was you.

You...... who started to mean more than you should've to him. And now you were somewhere in that wreckage. Possibly—

He didn't even want to even think of the word as he felt the bile creep up in his stomach.

Soap caught up first, breathing hard. "We gotta move as a unit, mate. Price is calling for evac—"

"Then you fall back." Simon growled, not breaking his stride.

"Ghost—"

"I said go." His voice was firm, but damn near on the edge of breaking. He was already halfway down the slope, rifle tight in his grip.

"Hold up." Price's voice cut in again, louder now. "Simon—."

"I heard 'em go down." He snapped back, the words like rocks in his throat. "Not leavin' 'em out there."

It was silence in his headset for a moment before Price answered. "...Copy that... You, Soap, and Gaz take a couple Marines. Go to the crash. I'll finish with the rest and link up after."

No questions. No arguments. Just trust.

He didn't waste time replying as he pushed harder, boots digging into the mud as he continued down the hill. The fumes in the sky was getting thicker, rising fast. His lungs and eyes burned, but he didn't care.

He had to get to you.

But they didn't get far before shit hit the fan and plunged into chaos. Gunfire ripped through the trees ahead—short, controlled bursts. Shadows emerged from the rocks, moving in a hurry.

"Contact front!" Gaz called, already ducking for cover.

A bullet pinged off a nearby boulder, sending shards of stone into Simon's path. He dove behind a large rock, pulled his rifle up, and fired back.

"Ambush!" Soap shouted.

"Shit! We gotta get out of here!" One of the Marines shouted as they returned fire.

They had to get through this. They had to. There were at least seven of them, maybe more as Simon counted quickly between shooting again. Well-armed. Positioned high. Prepared for anyone chasing the crash site.

"Hold the line!" Soap yelled, but he barely heard him. His blood roared in his ears, muscles tense in his jaw, as he picked targets and dropped them fast. 

The last target went down with a clean shot from Gaz, his rifle cracking through the silence as the final body crumpled ahead of them. Smog from the gunfight still lingered in the air, mixing with the black plume rising steadily on the horizon.

"Clear!" One of the Marines called out, panting as he reloaded.

"Clear." Soap echoed, stepping out from behind the rocks. His face slick with sweat, jaw tight.

Simon didn't wait for anything else... he was already pushing forward again. Muscles coiled and burning as he pushed down the slope like a man possessed.

"We need to move—now!" He snapped over his shoulder.

They continued their way toward the crash, watching the smoke get thicker and thicker. A column rose faster, lit beneath by the dying flickers of fire still clinging to the downed helo. It was wrecked beyond recognition, from what they could see. Flames burned at the edges of the split blades, looking like something out of a movie. The tail rotor was gone. Debris scattered in a jagged line along the rocks and dirt.

"Go, go!" Soap shouted, waving the Marines forward.

Simon bolted toward the front of the helo, heart slamming in his chest. Every step brought him closer—too close—to the image that haunted him ever ever since he heard you yelled. He reached the shattered cockpit window first and peered inside, throat tightening instantly.

You were still there. Slumped in your seat, fumes curling around you, face almost relaxed under streaks of ash and blood, harness was still locked; unmoving. Danny was next to you, body limp, as blood smeared along his temple and neck, but his chest barely moved.

Simon shouted, already grabbing the edge of the door. "Got 'em!" Gaz and Soap rushed to the other side, a couple Marines just behind them. "Help me get it open!" He grunted to soldiers before bracing his foot and yanking.

The cockpit door groaned against warped metal, but it immediately gave way after a few heavy pulls. The second the panel swung wide, he climbed into the wreckage, smoke and heat washing over him.

His eyes locked on you.

"C'mon...." he thought. "Open y'eyes. Show me you're still in there."

You were barely breathing. Face slack, head tilted at a painful angle, blood dried at your temple and jaw... but you did. Your eyes fluttered opened slowly as you looked at him in a slight daze.

"You came for me?" You asked, voice weak but still giving him a smile.

He almost replied back with a smart comment.... he really wanted to. But he couldn't think straight. Not with you in the condition you were. 

"Course I did." Was all that came from him. 

He reached for your harness, fingers fumbling only slightly as he unclipped each strap as you let chuckled, but winced, making him still briefly. He could hear Danny lightly groaning as he was being pulled from the helo, but his focus was strictly on getting you out as fast as he could. 

He reached for you, his hand bracing against your shoulder and the other beneath your legs. But as soon as he went to pick you up, you screamed loudly in his ear. 

"Leg's fucked." He stopped, his stomach churning but his grip tightening even more around you.

Part of the dash had collapsed onto you, pinning your left leg in place. Blood soaked through your uniform, and he could tell it was either broken or crushed. 

"Just—" You gritted through your teeth. "Just do it. We need to get out of here." 

His jaw flexed. He didn't want to put you in more pain... but he knew you all needed to get out before more enemies came. He took a deep breath, bracing himself again and lifted you into arms. He could hear the slight whimper in your throat as you tried to stay quiet, and it tore something inside of him—hearing you in pain.

"You're alrigh'. I got ya." He muttered, not even realizing he was saying it before he carried you away from the wreckage. 

Behind him, Soap shouted that extraction was arriving, and wash of relief came over him. He got you out like he said he would.

When everyone climbed into the helo, he felt your head droop back as you slipped out of consciousness and his heart clenched. He laid you down on the bench, eyes never leaving yours until one of the medics told him to back up. He sat down on the opposite side next to Soap, knee bouncing as he felt his pulse quicken so fast he thought he'd have a fucking panic attack. 

"Stay with me." He called out to you. 

Your eyes opened slightly, glancing at him before shutting them again and going limp.

"Stay with me, sweetheart" He repeated in his mind.

Hope you all really liked this cause I loved writing this POV of him.

Like, comment, repost, give feedback :)

Pt. 1; Pt. 2; Pt. 3; Pt. 4; Pt. 5; Pt. 6; Pt. 7; Pt. 8; Pt. 9; Pt. 10

Masterlist

Taglist: @jessicab1991 @maskedbyghost @kittygonap @nappingmoon @chaos-4baby @ohdrey89 @skeletonsucker @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @roastyyytoastyyy @simonexxx1 @mrmountainman @thebumbqueen @lucienofthelakes @letiferian @jennamelinda12 @mulletmcghee @kittykatgorl @strawberrygato @ghostslollipop @emeraldeyes1805 @chaosundcoffee @whos-fran @fangirls94 @rafaelacallinybbay @quiet-loser @shondlenoodle @iceblossom1013

=͟͟͞♡ Healing Hearts =͟͟͞♡

=͟͟͞♡ Pairings:-Doctor Gojo x Intern F!Reader

=͟͟͞♡ Summary- You are the top Surgical Doctor intern, along with Maki, Yuta and Toge. You all are exhausted from passing the first month, sixteen plus hour days, days you don't even go home, all to get a top spot with the star Surgeon, Dr. Gojo, your resident doctor and boss. Or as you call him, Dr. Hojo. He's takes nothing serious but his surgeries it seems, and has a reputation for being a player, but he has that top spot, so you want to prove your worth! You just have to ignore those stupid butterflies he gives you, and those pretty blue eyes, along with his interest in you, and focus!

=͟͟͞♡ Contents/warnings- MDNI- Warnings- overuse/incorrect use of prescription meds, angsty asf in places, scene of a medical procedure, heavy subject matter, some sexual tension. Reader, 26, Dr. Gojo 34- Grey's vibes - this chap, fingering, teasing, tension like a mf, use of prescription drugs, a character with a medical condition, light angst =͟͟͞♡ WC this chap- 6.5k

♡ It's backkk- Reblogs and comments appreciated if you enjoy ♡

=͟͟͞♡ Part Six =͟͟͞♡ Playlist =͟͟͞♡ Masterlist

Part Seven

It’s been a week now, since you’ve kissed Doctor Gojo, but he smiles at you every morning, his cerulean eyes drinking you in, he gets you a coffee and something for breakfast every morning. Every elevator ride he’s right next to you, shoulders brushing, hands aching to entwine. During surgeries with you he’s a calm guidance, a hand on your back to gently guide you as he leans over.

You can hardly handle not being with him, you can hardly handle not just kissing him again, especially after that night he took you home. You want to know more about him, about what made him how he is, a brilliant and damaged man, a man that you simultaneously admire and fear, for all he makes you feel.

“Good morning, intern.” He says now, it’s been seven days since you kissed those plump lips, seven days of longing to feel his fingers against your skin.

“Good morning, Doctor Gojo.” You say with a little smile, one that melts him completely.

It’s been seven days since Satoru got to kiss you, seven days since he ruined it all, since he ruined what was just starting. You’re constantly in his mind, he has to see you all day every day and not be able to touch you, kiss you, hold you. Miwa has already tried to hook up again, but Gojo turned her down flat, as he did anyone who even looks at him.

You may not be his, but you will be.

This morning he’s brought you a little breakfast sandwich, you smile gratefully at it, but he sees your dark circles worsening. “Getting any sleep?”

“Uh… no, I’m not.” You admit softly, sitting next to him at the cafeteria, surprising him then. Usually you sit just a little away, or run off to work, but you’re next to him, legs brushing over your scrubs, making his body tense. “Thank you for breakfast always, it’s very sweet.”

“It’s nothing, cafeteria food.” He says with a little smirk, and you sigh, giggling now, a sound that makes his heart falter.

“It’s thoughtful. I’ve been thinking, too, you know.”

“That’s dangerous.” You roll your eyes at him, Satoru sips his coffee, feeling his adderall kicking in, he’s been back to his normal dosages now, well what he considers normal. “Thinking of what, Miss Perfect?”

“I so am not that, stop it.” You nudge at him then, sighing and looking around noticing it’s relatively quiet in the hospital. “I was thinking I miss you.”

Satoru’s heart pounds in his chest now. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I see you every day and miss you, and it’s fucked.” You sigh now, shaking your head and running a hand through your hair, hair that Satoru longs to enwrap his hand in, pulling while he has you bent over. His thoughts are all over the place when it comes to you, some sweet, some lewd, some overwhelming.

You’re all he can think of.

“Of course you miss me.” He smirks and earns your glare, before he sighs, a serious look on his face, leaning close to you now. “What is it that you miss? Me touching your pretty body?” His whisper in your ear causes shivers to go down your spine, you’re trembling then with need. “Ah, that’s it.”

“You’re such an ass.” You say through gritted teeth, his laugh tickles your ear as he wraps an arm casually around the back of your chair.

“If you ask for something, anything? I’d give it to you.”

“Aside from decent answers and commitment?”

“Ouch.” He eases back, and you shake your head.

“I don’t know why I said anything.” You stand and he grabs your wrist, you look down at his big hand, veins pressing up from his thin, pale skin, thumb brushing on your inner wrist.

“I’m sorry, I do miss you too. In every way.” He looks up at you under snowy lashes, as you sigh now, looking away from his perfect face. “Every way.”

“Yeah?” You manage to breathe out, he nods just a bit. “Why do you have to look at me like that?”

“Like what, sweets?”

“Like all… intense Gojo like.” He snorts now, easing back his hand, leaning in the chair and looking up at you.

“Hard not to look at you.”

“These eye bags turning you on?” You tease, sitting back down, his hand comes to brush your lower back, making you gasp just a bit.

“Anything about you makes me insane.” You bite your lower lip, looking down at your lap, barely able to function around this man. “Especially love that shampoo you washed your hair with last night.”

“Strawberry really gets you going hmm?” 

You both laugh a bit then, so much unsaid and unknown lurking between you however, creating this… tension that’s so palpable.

“If you need me… you could utilize me you know.” You blink then.

“Utilize?”

“Mmhmm. Utilize my skills on your anatomy.”

“Jesus, Satoru.” He watches the color spark on your cheeks, smirking outwardly, but inside he’s dying for you, for any of you. “You think what, we could just… there’s no way.”

“If you need me I’m yours.”

“No chasing after infinity stones? At all?” Your eyes narrow a bit, assessing his face, which is far too serious for his teasing tone.

“None at all. I’d let you use me.” Your mind whirls, you shake your head quickly, sipping on your coffee, making your tummy flip with his images.

“You’re insane. Use you?”

“Mmhmm. Any way you wanted to. You work hard, you know.”

“I’m out.” You stand now, as he chuckles at you, mischievous little shit again, but you know there’s so much more, and his pull is irresistible. It’s not like you don’t know better, and it’s not like you’re giving in, but the idea of… cumming for him? You suddenly feel so hot you can’t take it.

He stands now too, walking with you to the elevator, god this elevator, where he stands too close, where his eyes get lidded, the first place you kissed. “Thoughts going through that pretty head?”

“You’re annoying, that’s the thoughts.”

“Hmm. And damaged.”

“Definitely.” You agree, earning his snort of amusement, as he turns and steps to you, backing you up until you’re against that elevator wall, his free hand on your waist, thumb brushing up, making you shiver. “You’re suggesting I what, fuck my frustration out on you? Where’s that lead?”

“I’d take any part of you, sweetheart.” His desperate words are your undoing, you yank him down, kissing him then, it’s desperate and messy and full of desire, before you pull back, as the elevator stops, and Satoru feels your heat against his thigh, pressed between yours.

“You’re the most toxic man.” You huff, shoving at him and stomping out, Satoru leans against the wall, head falling back, when you’re back inside, your coffee and sandwich not even in your hands somehow. The doors shut again, and you’re pressing the highest floor, shocking him. “You’d really just… get me off?”

“Oh I’d let you fuck my face any day baby.” You kiss him again, like a dam breaking, when he’s all over you, picking you up in his arms, your thighs are against his hips, making you grind eagerly as he groans, hand against the wall, holding you up as he nips your lower lips, pressing harder against you. Your cry makes your head fall back, his lips kissing up your throat.

“Fuck you, Satoru.” You grumble, gasping when he grabs your ass, pressing his cock against your eager cunt.

“Lemme make you cum.”

“Here!?”

“No… m’office…lemme feel her pulse around me, fuck.” You whimper then, breaths coming quicker and quicker.

“It doesn’t mean we’re good, though. I’m still m-mad. Just…”

“Be mad, but let me drink you.”

“Goddammit, ugh.” You’re eased down, dizzy as he presses the button to your floor, you try to compose yourself. “You’re infuriating.”

“I know.” Is all he says, softly now, brushing your hair back. “Meet me on break.”

He walks out and you’re shaking, he’s practically beaming, this ass of a man that you can’t stand, but also… love and want. Know he’s got issues out the ass, but fuck you want him, and could it just be sexual? You severely doubt it, not with how you feel as he kisses you, the energy altogether, but your pussy throbbing around nothing is trying to infiltrate your better judgement.

What a day it’s going to be.

“Someone just left a sandwich and coffee. Yum.” Maki says, her and Yuuta have split it in half, you can’t stop the laugh, an insane peal of laughter that makes half the hospital stare at you.

You’re losing your shit, aren’t you?

The day paces as it normally does, aside from stolen glances from a certain blue eyed ass of a man that was your boss. Was he really an ass, though? Or was he sweet, and damaged. But you’re not here to fix someone, not in that way, you want to fix people’s hands, their limbs, stitch them together, make them whole again. Not figuratively.

Literally.

You’re stitching up a patient as Maki walks in, pushing her glasses up just a bit on the bridge of her nose, observing. “You’re good at that now, damn.”

“Lots of suture duty.” You tease, rolling your eyes, smiling as you finish up and give the patient after care instructions. “How was it with Shoko?” You ask.

“Interesting, actually? I am surprised.” You both head to grab coffees, both failing to hold back your yawns.

“Right, I was so intrigued by it, too. Until…”

“Yeah, you’ve had a rough week.” She says, surprisingly soft, but she’s soft in places when it comes to her friends.

“It’s okay, I have to get through this. But thank you.” You hug her tightly, and then tense a bit when Satoru rounds the corner, some sugary concoction in his hand.

“How does he stay that thin?” She says, earning Gojo’s smirk.

“My ears are burning, talking about how handsome I am?” He says, brushing back his hair, back to his usual self, insufferable and cocky.

But you saw a different side of him, a side he clearly keeps hidden, and you hate how badly you want to unravel it, piece by piece, the mystery that is Doctor Gojo, that is Satoru. A carefree, unbothered and youthful man ninety percent of the time, a serious doctor nine percent, and one percent, a mess, vulnerable and distraught, tugging on your damn heart.

“Talking about how you have diabetes in your cup.” You tease then, and he gasps, hand to his chest.

“You two are like old ladies gossiping!”

“Says you.” You roll your eyes, and Maki looks between you both.

“I see something… over there.” She leaves you both now, and Satoru walks a little closer, sipping on his drink, you wipe off the little bit of foam on his lips, finger lingering too long.

“Messy.” You mumble, then he leans low, breath against your ear.

“You’re messy, from my very vivid memory.”

“Shush!” You’re heating up, when he pulls back, lips far too glossy and tempting, destroying you bit by bit.

“Office, meet me in ten.” He turns and walks off then, lanky body in those lavender scrubs and that white coat, you nervously look at your watch, noticing your heart rate is through the roof.

The moment you’re in there, the hunger just unleashes, his hands are all over, on your breasts over your scrubs and your bra, as you kiss him desperately, hand slipping under his scrub top, thumb along the soft white trail of his hair under his belly button. Hungry, desperate, devouring each other, until he’s picked you up, sitting you right on his desk, moaning

Satoru’s slipping his fingers under the stretchy waistband of your blue scrub pants, and once his finger brushes your soaked panties, you cry out softly, covering your mouth as he exhales, leaning further over you. “You’re soaked, sweetheart, you just stay this way?”

Around Satoru, yes, you do.

Your eyes roll back as his fingers brush up and down your panties, pressing even deeper. “G-god…” Is all you manage, letting your hand fall off your face to grip his white coat, pulling him so close. “F-feels so good…”

“Does it, baby?” He murmurs, slipping under them now, your breath is coming faster and faster, moaning softly when he finds your little clit, making your thighs tremble, your tummy clenching in desire. “Missed touching you, miss those pretty little moans.”

He kisses you as his finger rolls in circles, and when your lips connect it’s just too much, you feel too much for him, like something grabbing your heart, squeezing it like a vise. The tingles that shoot from his lips make you soak his fingers, long and cool pressing on your twitchy little clit, all while his mouth consumes you, his plush lips so pliant and hungry.

“Wanna cum f’me, pretty?” His husky words are too much, as you look into the swirling storms of those eyes, hips arching and rolling. But you’re too caught up then, as he slips a finger in, just looking at you.

Eyes that were black last week, dark and desolate, now so eager and bright, sparkling so brilliantly while he stretches you, one finger curling inside as he angles his arm. Eyes that filled with tears, the sadness as two tears had rolled down his cheeks, the desperation as those hands that are playing you gripped your face, mixing with all the pleasure he’s bringing.

“Look at you, fuck…” He’s whispering, and how he does look at you, like you’re everything and anything all at once.

“Satoru…” You’re tearing up as he makes you feel so good, kissing you again, you’re clinging to him while he’s kissing and licking up your neck to your ear, now pressing on the spongy little spot in your slick walls with two fingers. You hear it echoing in the office, how wet you are, as he nips your lower lip.

His cock is aching, tip leaking precum as he hears it, the squelching wetness of your overheated cunt on his fingers, your cheeks flushed so beautiful, eyes just glinting with tears. He pauses, breathless at the sight, all while you’re soaking his hand, his wrist even, as his other slips up the delicate curve of your back, watching you tremble, pressing your spot again and again.

“That’s it, let go for me.” He whispers, and you can’t then, you’re too invested, you’re too…

In love.

“Stop for a moment, please?” Satoru blinks snowy lashes in confusion for just a moment before he pulls back immediately, looking at you with concern.

“What is it, too rough?” He murmurs, so goddamn thoughtful it makes you cry more, and soon he’s panicking, as you’re shaking your head.

“God no, I want you so badly. It’s… I can’t do this casually. It’s too much, you’re so much.” You cup his face, watching the confusion as his fingers now rest on your waist once more, as he tries to control his breathing.

“Let me feel you cum, it’s all I need, we don’t have to sleep to-”

“No, it’s too much. Everything.” You take another breath, trailing a hand down his body, trying to calm your pounding heart, fingers brushing the soft material, your eyes lowering, sticky from tears.

“I’m sorry I said it. I am.” He whispers hoarsely, you shake your head then, taking a breath and resting your forehead on his chest.

“I forgive you, Satoru. I do.”

“Shit…” He exhales in relief, kissing you again, tiltitng your chin up, your head falls back as you cling to his shoulders, he drags you closer, until he’s right between your thighs. “You probably shouldn’t.”

“You just feel how you feel. I feel how I feel. It is different but…” Your hand cups his perfect face now, exhaling, breath tickling his lips, as he aches for you. “This deserves some sort of chance, but a real one. Not… me fucking you because I’m aching to. It can’t be that.”

“Do you want… more? To try for…”

“To try for you, yes. I want to. I want to… know you, Dr. Gojo, know every bit of you, not just what I have seen so far. I want the real you.” You say softly, as he feels his own emotions take hold of him.

Who has ever wanted to truly know Satoru Gojo, the man behind the pretty bright smile? Surely Suguru, but as for women, his experience has always been sexual, or just hateful in the case of Utahime. Friendship perhaps, but never the combination of friendship, of sex, of more, of you ripping open his soul with just a pretty look, god he just enjoyed hearing you breathe.

“Being without you is fucking torture.” He says softly, pulling you even more against him now, to where you can feel how much he wants you. “I’ll do anything for another chance, I’ll try… to open up.”

“That’s all I want, I don’t want to ‘fix you’ or change you, just know you.” You sniffle now, aching to speak those words, that you’re in love, but it’s insanity. “That's all I’ve wanted.”

“Then I promise, I’ll try to be… open. I promise. But… if you hate-”

“Shh.” You touch his lips with your fingertip now, shaking your head as you feel it, his insecurity, the most conceited man deep down is so terrified you will hate who he is. “It couldn’t be further from the truth of what I feel.”

Satoru’s left speechless at you, torn between making you cum, kissing you, holding you, fuck you have his head swimming, his mind whirling. “There’s a lot you don’t know, though. Or think you do.”

“And for me too. I… shit…” You feel it then, the stabbing pain that’s been blissfully gone, making you wince as he presses his fingers on it carefully, frowning at you.

“Hurting again? For how long?”

“Just this week. Not bad like before, more like… stabbing, ugh.”

“Hmm, stress probably doesn’t help. Stress like a pillhead doctor madly obsessed with you?”

“Satoru! Don’t call yourself that.” You whisper the words, head still throbbing, Satoru smiles just a bit. “No self deprecating humor.”

“None at all? Dick could help the headaches-”

“Satoru!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. But it really could.” You glare as he chuckles, so happy to just have you in his arms, near him once more. “I can get you some more of that medicine if you need.”

“The one you shot in my ass cheek?” You raise a brow, and earn his more devious smile. “Actually it did help.”

“Still should scan it again soon, the tap should have helped longer.”

“I am under a lot of stress.” Both of your beepers go off then, and you two sigh, as he helps you down off the desk, now towering so tall over you, your head falls back to look at him while he caresses your lips longingly.

“A date, tonight, no matter what. Even if it’s three am. Promise me?” He asks softly, as your beepers go off again, but his arms are on either side of you, again his lips hovering. “You deserve one, a real one, not whatever we’ve been trying and failing royally at.”

“A real date, where we… talk.”

“Then-”

“Talk. We need to just talk, okay? Before…” You brush against him, making his nostrils flare, a teasing little smile under your lashes then. “Before more again.”

“Fuck. Yeah?”

“Yeah, better be a good date, been asking me all this time, hmm?” You dart away then, running out on him after a peck on his cheek, leaving him for just a few moments, trying to pull himself together.

This insane feeling for you, the fear of losing you, is all so much, he’s shaky when he grabs a bottle, hesitating just a bit. He doesn’t want to be fucked up tonight with you, he wants to be all there, but he knows he needs to have some, to be a perfect doctor, to help everyone in the best way he can.

Perfect Doctors can’t have shaky hands.

Perfect Doctors can’t have bad days.

Satoru Gojo is the perfect Doctor, and he can’t fuck up, but he doesn’t want to fuck up with you again, his heart can’t take it. He takes a xanax and puts it under his tongue rather than right up his nose, watching as his hands slowly stop shaking, as he slows his heart rate, the blood pressure dropping just a little, you have him so on edge and needy.

He sucks his fingers, just to taste more of you, that mixes with the sweet and bitter xanax, he’s not sure any two things really taste better, thoughts of snorting it right off your pussy fogging his damn brain. He smacks at his own cheek, shaking himself out of it, walking out to see you commanding a whole fucking room, you’re straddled right on a patient and pressing on their chest as the nurses wheel you.

God you’re fucking impeccable.

Satoru clears out of his obsession with you for just a moment, running in to help you, as your compressions tire your little arms out, you seem so small to him suddenly, on this huge guy pressing as quickly as you can. As they get him to the room you look at Satoru, face exhausted so clearly, he carefully touches your shoulder, fingers brushing against you.

“Let me take over, champ.”

“No I- oh look.” The patient is breathing now, blinking his eyes as he gasps, and sees you, his hands coming to your hips.

Satoru thinks of making his heart stop for good.

You blink rapidly, as the man relaxes, eyeing you with wide eyes then. “Oh my… I’m so sorry I… thank you!?”

“You’re welcome.” You smile softly, the man is probably as buff and probably as tall as Satoru if that’s possible, as you clear your throat and try to get his hands off your hips. “What’s your name, since we’re so personal now?”

He laughs just a bit, smile on his face so big, releasing you as Satoru helps you down, glaring at the patient that dares to try to rizz up his girl after almost dying, who the fuck is he. “Choso. I guess you’re now like my angel huh?”

“Oh no, not an angel.” You giggle a bit at him, at his sweet smile, feeling the absolute glare from Satoru at you as you put fingers to his pulse. “Choso, hmm, what happened? Do you remember?”

“I have a pretty bad heart, unfortunately.” He mumbles, slipping up his shirt to reveal his chest, with a line right down the center, making your own heart hurt for him, with his tired little smile. “It’s on borrowed time while I wait for another.”

“How young were you?” You touch his chest, and Satoru tries to observe you as a doctor, not as the girl he needs, so proud of you as you go over everything, fuck he barely even has direction for you.

You’re a perfect intern, already.

He wishes he was just a little more like you back when he interned, yeah you’re emotional, you are too invested, but he loves it about you, watching it all unfold as it unfortunately looks like the man is giving you heart eyes. Satoru switches to doctor mode, peering now at the medical records that get brought to him by Miwa, frowning then.

“You needed a heart a good two years ago.” Satoru murmurs softly, and you look over at him curiously, Choso smiles a bit, brushing back messy dark hair.

“I think your pretty intern is making my heart better.”

“Oh, no, stop that. Let’s get him on a heparin drip please?” You say to one of the nurses, who runs off while Satoru peers at his number on the list.

“He’s number two actually. So, you’ll have to get admitted, we should monitor this until one becomes available.” Satoru says, and Choso finally peels his violet eyes off you for a moment.

“It could be… too late though?”

“We’ll do everything we can to keep it beating until then. Let’s get a current ultrasound of his heart, see if there’s anything to prolong it.” You nod then, but Choso grabs your hand, and Satoru thinks of fucking his heart up for a split second, as you look down warmly at him.

“Can she do it?” He asks Satoru and he goes to say no, an ultrasound tech will, but you’re already speaking before his brain works.

“I can be here, if you want, but we do have ultrasound techs, they’re so amazing at it too.”

“Could you be?” You nod again, as you finally step out now, frowning as Satoru hands you the charts.

“Shit, he got this as a teen, no wonder. He’s… thirty. He’s so sweet, fuck I hope we can help him.”

“Sweet, huh?” He glares at you with those icy blue eyes, you laugh softly then, shaking your head as you further flip through the pages.

“Satoru, he’s just thankful I saved him. For now, at least.”

“Uh huh.”

“Silly.” You gently brush a hand up his arm, looking around at the bustling hospital, making his skin prick with goosebumps, looking at your pretty face, feeling so possessive he can’t stand it at the moment.

You’re not his.

Not yet.

Why would you choose him? What if someone comes along and promises the damn world to you, what if they want exactly as you do, would you leave him so far behind? How can he ask you to sacrifice so much, is he so selfish, truly, when it comes to you?

He is.

After getting the ultrasound, Satoru has you in his office for a much different reason than earlier, as you both study a teenage heart working overtime to pump through a grown man's body. “It's insane, it's still beating at this age, he clearly takes good care of his body.”

Satoru scowls at you, making you blink a bit and then snort at his statement. “Oh, you like his body huh?”

“You're cute when you’re jealous. Focus or no date, maybe I’ll go have a little dinner with-”

“You’re a brat, fine, intern you tell me the option I have here, because there’s really only one.” You sigh, standing in front of him, he rests his chin on your head, hands coming to your waist, possessively thinking of how only he should, as he inhales your sweet scent.

“An LAVD is his best option, it could give him up to a year or two? And with as high as he is on the list, it shouldn’t be too long. But then, all sorts of potential complications with the surgery.” Your fingers trace the ventricles, so tiny and dark on the scan, of the sweet man’s heart, hating this for him. “But you’ll do the surgery, right Satoru?”

“Of course I will.”

“If anyone can do it right, it’s you.” Your words make his heart falter, while he pulls you even tighter against him, enwrapping you.

“Of course I will, I’m not worried about the surgery, he also seems pretty tough, and a good will, that matters.”

“It’s not fair, though, is it?”

“None of it is, nothing that happens to anyone, sweetheart.” He kisses your temple, enjoying being near you again, how has something that just started become so special. “So, proceed with the LAVD? Or?”

“Monitor him for a couple of days first I think? Before the extreme.” You say softly, and Satoru nods then, pulling you tighter against him. “I’ll go over the options, he seems comfortable with me.”

“Very comfortable.” You laugh, shaking your head and turning around to look up at him, tapping at his pointy chin, then leaning up, hands slipping up his chest.

“He’s sweet and he needs something right now, if he’s comfortable with me, I’ll be there for him. But it doesn’t hurt to have a jealous Gojo.” You grin and wiggle your brows, gasping then as he grips you with his strong hands, leaning low.

“Should I show you how jealous?” He steps you until you’re against his wall, his thigh between yours, vivid images of you arched in his bed filling his mind.

“That date, remember? We have an hour until the shift ends, you gonna pick me up and everything from the house?”

“I sure will. Fine, go on and talk to him heartbreaker, I’ll see about having the staff order a device just in case he agrees. And then…” He kisses your lips again. “I’ll call you when I head to your house.”

“See you then, Doctor Gojo.” You smile as you slip off again, as he rests his head on the wall, the inner workings of his mind spinning in circles when you walk out, he pulls his bottle out of his jacket, wondering if he should have one more bar, but puts it back instead as Miwa walks in.

“Need anything before I head out, Doctor Gojo?” She asks, brightly bouncing up to him, he shakes his head, dismissing her with a little smile.

“I’m good, go home and relax.”

“Oh, I don’t mind helping… at all.” She trails her hand down Gojo’s stomach and he tenses, panicking as he looks over her shoulder, the door cracked open, how shitty would this even look. He grabs her wrist, noticing her flush of excitement.

“I said I’m good, Miwa.”

She pouts now. “You look so worked up, don’t you need a stress relief, you used to enjoy it.”

Satoru firmly takes her hand off, shaking his head. “I’m not interested.”

She looks like she’s about to cry then, irritating Gojo though he supposes he should feel… bad or something? He can’t bring himself to, maybe it’s the xanax but her tears don’t matter. “You’re not even with her though? The intern…”

“I will be.” He smiles then, sighing. “Keep it a secret but I’m in love.”

“In.. love!?”

“Mmm. Yeah shush though. Don’t ask again, mmkay sweets?” Satoru pats her head, firmly pushing her away, as gentle as he can. “Bye bye.” Satoru walks out, leaving her in tears, planning every damn detail of a real date with you as you go and talk to your intriguing new patient.

“Hello, angel.” You flush a bit at the handsome patient, clearly exhausted with dark circles, pale and drawn, but so bright and sweet.

“Well hello, Mr. Kamo.”

“Choso, please.”

“Choso, we have a couple options here. But I’m gonna be honest, they’re both a little risky.” You sit on the bed, just the edge of it near his hips, wires everywhere, monitors beeping with his weak heart. You try not to look as concerned as you feel for him.

“Be real with me, it’s a shitty heart.”’

“No! It did its job and more, but it’s past its prime. You took good care of it, I can tell.” You say with a little wink, earning his blush. “Lifting heavy?”

“Not too heavy, restricted in what I can do. But I try.”

“So, there’s something called an LAVD, a Left Ventricular assist device, basically it can help keep this heart here pumping until you get a transplant. It could be tomorrow, it could be months, you’re high up which is good!”

“But…”

“But, the surgery has got its own risk, we’d be operating on a weak heart.”

“And if I don’t?” You sigh, looking over at him, and he exhales. “Ah, it’s pretty bad huh?”

“It’s not great. Um… we have a few days of leeway at least if you stay and relax here for a bit, think of it, see if something comes.”

“So relaxing here.” He gestures to his wires, and you bite your lip, hating that something like this is happening.

“You’re so… positive.”

“Should I not be?” He smiles lazily, eyes on your lips for a moment, before they slide back up to your thigh. “Got the prettiest doctor ever.”

“You mean Doctor Gojo?” You tease.

“Not my type.” You both laugh, as he inhales from it, touching his chest, the monitor spiking just a bit.

“Flirting is making your heart race, Mr. Kamo.”

“Shit.” You both laugh softly again, you put your hand over his, covered in intricate tattoos.

“We will try everything to get you to live for the transplant, as best as we can, but it’s ultimately your decision. I’ll go over more with you tomorrow, okay?”

“Sounds good, doc.”

“Mmm, weird not getting called ‘intern’. Have a good night, then, we’ll monitor you for now, try to get comfortable, okay?” You turn off the lights as dim as you can, handing him the remote. “There’s always Twilight Marathons on channel fifty five.”

“Oh shit, who doesn’t love that?”

You grin as he does. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Sure thing angel.” You roll your eyes, shutting the door quietly, as Satoru texts your phone, making it buzz.

Satoru: I’m off already, I’m going home to get ready. An hour sound good?

You: It’s actually happening!?!?

Satoru: Nothing’s stopping this shit.

You can’t stop the smile from hitting your lips, rushing to the locker room, and soon you’re throwing a million outfits all over the ground, as you yell out Maki’s name, she runs in, seeing you in just your panties whistling. “Damn baby, just stay home with me hmm?”

“Don’t tempt me, now.” You wink and then you both giggle, Yuuta and Toge walk by, and both blush and turn, but Toge runs off, earning you shaking your head and laughing softly.

“You’ll kill that poor boy with those titties.” Maki shuts the door thankfully, and you’re holding up several outfits. “The red top, it’s cold so wear that pretty puffy black jacket with the fur.”

“Oh god this is why I adore you.”

“Only good taste?” Maki sits in your chair, and you wiggle your bros.

“Love you for all sorts of reasons.”

“Ooh baby. No, that’s hot as fuck… those leggings… hmm what about thigh high boots?”

“Yes, shit! I was thinking it was too cold to be sexy, you’ve saved me.” Maki bends down to help you zip up, then you’re throwing the jacket as she dabs on a little makeup, some blush and gloss. 

“Damn you look good, like you slept four hours at least.”

“Bitch!” You both snort, as you work on brushing your hair, then hear the text, that Satoru is here. “Oh shit, I’m okay!?”

“You’re perfect. And hey…” She brushes your hair back carefully, serious Maki is here, not the joking and fun girl. You tense a bit at it, looking up curiously. “Just let yourself… know each other, okay? Sex is cool but…”

“No, I agree. I need to know him. We had sex so soon and…”

“I can’t blame you now.” She winks, and you blush, making your cheeks even brighter under the loose powder along your cheeks. “Allow yourself to feel, to have fun, but be careful.”

“Wise Maki, who knew!?”

“I am pretty amazing.” You hug her then, as the doorbell rings.

“You are. Shit, Toge may kill him, let me go!” You both dart down the stairs, as Toge scowls at Satoru, while he pats his head.

“Hey kiddo. And…” He pauses as you step down, exhaling at the sight of you, so gorgeous, you always are, but seeing you outside of scrubs addled him even further. Like some corny ass rom com from the nineties when you descend the old stairs of your home, leaving him breathless for a moment.

“Hey, Satoru. I’m ready.” You smile at him nervously, as he clears his throat, blush decorating the infamous ‘Dr. Hojo’s’ cheeks, as he opens his mouth and closes it, then opens it again.

“You look gorgeous, shit.” He manages, rubbing the back of his neck, as you shyly look down.

“Thank you, Satoru. You look handsome.” You take in his own appearance, so gorgeous as always, but he’s also got a thick winter coat over him, but it’s this fancy overcoat, looking so good on his lithe frame. His eyes sparkle, bright like you know them to, as he takes your hand, kissing the back of it. “All gentlemanly?”

“Trying to be, sweetheart. Are you ready?” You nod eagerly, as your friends watch you both a little cautiously, as you both walk out into the chilled snow night, nearly christmas, your house has little snowmen and lights, brightening the cool, clear night sky, as you see your breath while you walk to his car.

“It’s so warm, thank you!” You say once you’ve slid into the still running car, nice and toasty, he slides in, a hand on your thigh over your fleece leggings, leaning close to you, so close you taste his sweet breath.

“Are you ready for an actual date with me?” He teases, and you nod, when he eyes your glossy lips. “I need to know that flavor, for scientific purposes.”

“Oh, scientific?” You tease back, he just smirks, and you press a kiss, a quick one, that makes his arm wrap around you, hand at the small of your back, exhaling against them.

“Cherry vanilla.”

“You’re insane, yes!” He’s smirking a bit, big hand under your puffy jacket, pressing on the soft cotton of your sweater, as your arms wrap his neck. “So where is this date?”

“Surprise. Are you ready to go?” His thumb caresses your jaw, studying your heart wrenching beauty in the quiet car, humming with the motor, heat pouring on both of you, though the heat from your bodies far surpasses it.

“I’m ready, Dr. Gojo.”

To know him, to actually know him.

You’re more than ready.

And Satoru, with your taste on his lips, scent filling his car, the sight of you along with the feel of your thigh under his palm, and just how beautiful you are, you fill his every fucking sense. All he can think, over and over, is that he can’t fuck this up, he can’t fuck this chance at you up.

He has to be real, he has to open, finally, and hope that you’ll accept him, because he thinks it just might take him out if you don’t. Little does he know, the words of love threaten to spill with every breath, and you know it’s toxic, maybe bad patterns, but you’d take this man any damn way he was.

I am backkk, I know a few of you were really interested in this so I hope you enjoy where it goes. DON'T worry- Choso will be FINE he is a Denny Duquette reference (this is a Grey's AU aha) but a happy ending for him. I look forward to your comments and now these shouldn't be so far apart- I'm back on track hehe

Taglist #1 (open still!) @lost-resonance @lostfracturess @unfortunately-tia @allofffmypeaches @makingtimemine @antisocialinlw @meg3mis @zoeyflower @wstaley2 @bunheadusa @blue-musingss @ameliariddle @labelt-san @jkslaugh97 @shadeowz @gojo1228 @jaeminaur @httpstoyosi @angel1of-death @seeing-stars-alt @bol0-de-morang0 @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @trishiepo0 @inthedarkshadows000 @gina239 @san-it-is-i-guess @pelicanpizza @gojo1228 @ducky1232 @inthedarkshadows000 @eclecticmentalitypersona @burguhndy @levislug @addehehe @sluttyofgojo @msniks @xixflower @ambiguouslady42 @kiaraandrea @jjknanamin @suguruscousin @silverfangmarks @atiny-99 @thatssoambs @kanekisheart @mahalsuya @aldebrana

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part thirty-two —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 5.1k tags: death. blood and gore. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. enemies to lovers. SA and implication of child SA (very subtle). summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: clearly I am bad at estimating how long this story will take lol

The tray of food crashes to the floor at her feet. Salome gasps. Her hand shoots back, fumbling for the doorknob, and her lips part, ready to call the guard you know is just outside.

"If you call for the guard," you stop her, "I’ll cut deeper."

She clamps a hand over her mouth. "Please—stop! Hurting yourselves is a sin, a great dishonor to the body God gave you—"

“It is,” you agree calmly. You press the shard deeper into the cephalic vein, ignoring the bite of pain. Blood spills in a fresh, startling curtain down your arm, the wound mimicking the severity of an arterial cut. “And she’ll blame you for it. You’re the one she entrusted to watch over us, and you didn't notice we broke one of the mugs."

"I did not think you would—"

"What happens to you,” you cut her off, pointing the bloody shard at her stomach, “—and your baby when the two new child-bearers die because of your failure? Because I will die, if I cut any deeper. This artery,” you lie, tapping the wound for emphasis, “is important. If I finish slicing through it, I’ll bleed out in less than a minute. Not enough time for you to get help. Not even enough to try saving me yourself.”

Her lashes flutter rapidly through a swell of tears. "You could have a good life here—"

"Answer me. What happens to you if I die?"

She swallows hard. "She’ll punish me," she whispers frightfully. "I have seen what happens to those who fail her. She might take my child and I will... never see them. Please, don’t do this—”

"Why should we care about you and your child when you are okay with them killing an eleven-year-old girl tomorrow?"

A flash of shame crosses her face. "I'm sorry. I-I didn't know Maman would want the girl. The offering has never been so young before. But it is God's will, there is nothing I can do to—"

"What you can do is open the cell. Open it and we will kill Maman, then you won't have to worry about anyone taking your baby. But if you don't open it, then we die in here and you will face her punishment."

Her lips part, but nothing comes out. She looks between you and Nereida, eyes darting wildly, fingers twitching against her stomach. 

"Decide before I bleed out!"

"I... I can't," she says pitifully.

With a glance at Nereida, she takes her cue, digging into her vein.

"Open the cell," Nereida urges far more soothingly than you can, blood dripping to her elbow. "We won't hurt you. We want Maman gone, not you."

Salome whimpers under her breath, but her fingers move before her mind catches up, reaching inside her robe to retrieve the key, gripping it like it might burn her. She shuffles closer but pauses, inhaling deeply before finally reaching the door. Her hands shake so violently that the key rattles against the lock. It slips against the metal, failing to match the hole, and your finger twitches when she nearly drops it.

"Mais si elles ne parviennent pas à la tuer..." The whisper leaves quietly, lost beneath the veil. "Sa punition pour moi sera pire."

Then, her hand curls back around the key.

She swallows hard—and steps back.

No. 

You see red.

A growl curls at your mouth and you snap forward, grabbing onto her dress through the bars before she can retreat too far, and pulling her flush against them, her forehead banging into the metal. Before she can scream, you clamp a bloody hand over her mouth and then press the piece of broken mug to her neck with just enough pressure to make her panic. She gasps into your palm, struggling. You dig it harder, forcing her body to turn still and rigid.

"Twix—"

"I tried doing things the nicer way," you speak in a low snarl, veering off the script you and Nereida conjured. Round, glossy eyes stare into yours. "You should have made up your mind before getting within my reach. Now give her the key. I’d hate for my hand to slip."

Another sharp press into her skin wrings a squeak from her, her breath coming out jagged and uneven against your palm. Trembling, she extends an arm through the bars, offering the key to Nereida.

The moment Nereida takes it, she fumbles to find the lock from the outside, her fingers searching blindly. The key scrapes against the metal—once, twice—before a soft click finally reaches your ears.

The door swings open.

You don’t hesitate. Keeping your grip firm over Salome’s mouth, you shove through the opening and swing around to the other side. Before she can react, you force her back into the cell, driving her onto the bed. The veil tears free from her head as you pin her down, your weight pressing her into the mattress, the sharp fragment still poised at her throat. When her legs begin to flail helplessly, you order Nereida to grab them. She clasps Salome's ankles to keep her from bucking you off.

"You were afraid of the wrong person," you hiss, your nose nearly brushing hers. "Maman may have spared your life because she values her baby makers—but I don’t. Answer everything I ask, or I’ll show you just how merciless I can be."

The dishonest threat rolls off your tongue with enough force to make her nod frantically, fear widening her eyes. But what she doesn’t need to know—what you won’t let her see—is the part of you still holding back. Because even now, even as you pin her down and press the shard to a vital piece of her throat, you’re careful. You don’t dig hard enough to damage. You don’t let your weight bear down on the swell of her stomach.

"I'm glad we understand each other. I am going to lift my hand, and you're not going to scream. You're going to tell me everything we need to know about the guards out there."

Her lips are puffy and raw when you set them free. 

"There is only one outside the d-door," she sputters in a whisper. "B-but there are more... more by the... h-homes and the keep."

"The keep?"

"Where they keep the new m-males," she chokes out, snot dripping from her nose.

"That's in the old slaughterhouse, right?"

She nods.

"How many guards are over there exactly?"

"I do not know." At your glare, she rushes out, "B-but there are less after d-dinner ends. Many go to sleep, and switch shifts at sunrise."

You mull over the information, eyes darting across her face. “And the child—the offering? Where is Maman keeping her?”

A terrible look of fear ripples through her eyes. "Only few are allowed near the offering b-before her ascension. 

"So you're telling me you don't know?" you seethe in her face.

She sobs. "I know they... they will offer her to the démons right before the sun rises. The night is when God’s wrath is strongest, but it’s in the morning—when hope ascends—that we seek atonement."

Despite further pressing, that seems to be the extent of what she knows—or she's still withholding. Either way, you're satisfied enough. You rip strips of the sheet, using one to gag her and two more to bind her wrists and ankles. You and Nereida wrap your wounded wrists tightly to stop the flow. Then, you remove her white gown. You’ll need something to wear that doesn't easily mark you as an escapee, but there’s only the one white dress and veil. You hurriedly slip into them, making sure all of your hair and face is hidden, leaving Nereida still in the thin slip. The shoes Salome wears are thin and made of unsupported leather, but they are all you have to tuck your bare feet into.

Salome said there will be fewer guards after dinner. You and Nereida listen carefully to every sound that bleeds through the window. When you hear a few exchanges of bonne nuit, you figure people are starting to retire for the night. You take this as your cue to grip your makeshift weapon. The guard outside the door is expecting Salome to leave at some point, giving you the perfect opportunity to catch him off-guard while dressed as her.

You quietly open the door to the warm summer night, the long gown ghosting around your ankles. As expected, a well-built man leans against the side of the building, arms crossed languidly. No one else is in sight, which brings you some relief. When his gaze shifts to you, he raises a brow.

"Tout va bien, mademoiselle? Vous êtes restée là-dedans un moment."

The last word barely makes it out of his mouth. Within a heartbeat, you spring at him like the head of a snake, one hand over his mouth and the other stabbing his neck with the shard, then sweeping it through the thick of his trachea. A gush of blood oozes out in one thick stream, before he gargles out a strangled choke and turns to dead weight against the wall. 

With Nereida's help, you quickly push his body inside the building to keep anyone from spotting it. 

"Wear this," you usher, already starting to undress him. Like the man who visited you, he's wearing a grey cloak. Though it's too big for her, and bloodied, it will be enough to keep her discreet in the dark, her long hair safely tucked beneath the hood.

Two things race through your mind: the ticking time toward sunrise and the fact that you still don’t know how many more men you’ll have to take out to reach Ghost, Price, and Kyle. The knife you find on the guard adds a small weapon to your shitty arsenal. You have no idea where they could’ve stored the guns and ammo they took from you, or your bow. How you'll manage to fight through a community of cultists without those is a worry you can’t afford to dwell on right now—one step at a time.

After a few minutes of collecting yourselves, urgency pulls the two of you outside, free from the barred enclosure for the first time in almost four days. In the blanket of night, you quickly scan the area, taking in what you’re up against. The community appears fairly spread out, with only six small farmhouses like the one you just escaped from, along with a few larger structures in the near distance—likely where they house the men. You catch a glimpse of a fenced pasture’s perimeter and the unmistakable stench of cattle fills the air. Despite the faint shuffle of hooves and grey plumes of smoke from a few of the chimneys, everything is eerily still, leaving an unnerving amount of quiet for your heart to shatter through.

From what you can see, there aren’t many places to hide Blue, but there could be more to this place beyond what’s visible, especially since the chapel you first saw is nowhere in sight. But none of that matters right now; you need to find the others first if you’re going to have any real chance of saving her and getting out of here.

The next male you encounter spots you first as you make your way up the gravel road towards the barn, the sound of his boots making your hand tighten on the knife's handle. He greets you unassumingly in French, causing Nereida to startle beside you as his shadow approaches. Then he stops in front of her, his shoulders tensing and his hand hovering near a knife at his waist.

"Que fais-tu avec la femelle? C’est interdit!"

Again, you go for the throat, desperate to silence any screams that could cause alarm. You get a good swipe at the base of it, but he is at least a head taller than you, making it difficult to stab fully. He grabs you by the waist, clearly in shock that a veiled female just sprung on him with a knife, but swipes a fist at your face nonetheless. The force spreads through your temple, thrusting your head to the side. 

"Take the knife from him," you hiss at Nereida through the pain, who until now was effectively frozen. She finally moves, using the distraction you've caused as he clutches his bleeding neck, and snatches the knife still hanging at his waist. Once she has it, you leap at the disarmed man again, this time stabbing his liver. With a muffled grown, he face-plants into the gravel, quickly soaking it with blood. 

"The body," she stutters worriedly. "We need to hide it."

You look around, spotting stacks of chopped wood.

"Over there. Help me drag him."

Once the body is heaved behind the logs, you pat him down in search for anything else, but there's nothing.

"Keep that on you," you tell her, and she gives a quick nod, hiding the knife under her sleeve.

You keep following the road up to the fence, your white dress splattered with crimson, resembling the dotted stars overhead. The 'keep' is somewhere by the barn that man said, but you notice smaller buildings to the right and to the left of it. Which one looks like an old slaughterhouse? It's too difficult to tell even when you squint, so you grab Nereida's arm and quickly lower by a bush.

"Watch that one, and I'll keep an eye on this one. Whichever building has more guards patrolling is probably where they're holding them."

"Okay," she whispers, peering around the bush.

Minutes pass. The building on the right has more shadows skirting around it—three guards total. You take a moment to study their movements. One is stationed near the back, the other two at the front.

"I want you to take the one at the back and wait for me. I'll handle the other two."

"How do I take him?" she whispers uncertainly. "He’ll see me coming."

"You’ll come at it from an angle." You point toward a stack of hay. "Sneak over there, quietly. Once you're behind it, circle around and approach where he can't see."

She hesitates, rubbing the back of her hand across her forehead. "I’ve never—"

"Never killed anyone?" 

The way she grips the knife, her fingers white on the handle, confirms it.

"These people deserve it, Nereida," you say, forcing her to meet your gaze. "John is in there."

She closes her eyes, and for a moment, the weight of it all presses down on her. When she opens them again, her jaw is set, and her grip on the knife tightens.

After reminding her where to strike, you pause for a moment, watching as she sneaks over to the hay. Then, you move toward the other two, slipping behind a tree for cover, but your foot catches on something and you almost trip, catching yourself against the bark. Your breath hitches and you steal a peek at them to make sure they didn't hear you. No—they are too busy murmuring to each other, laughing in a low exchange.

When you glance down, you spot a shovel half-buried into the ground, its handle sticking out. Carefully, you wriggle it free, having to grit your teeth to fully remove it. This will let you stun one while you deal with the other. Inhaling deeply to center yourself, palm tight over the splintered wood handle, you close in on the two guards.

The shorter one with curly hair spots you just before you take a swing, his eyes widening. The shovel slams into his skull, effectively making him stumble to the ground, but slips from your grip from the force. The other guard whirls around, hand slapping for the pistol at his belt. You deliver three consecutive stabs to his stomach, heart, and cheek. The gun never leaves his waist before he falls dead.

You suck in a gulp of air just as the curly-haired one regains his footing. His head is still heavy from the blow, and before he can draw his knife, you shove him in the chest, sending him crashing to the ground. You pin him easily beneath you, his movements sluggish and weak. The two of you wrestle in the grass, jagged breaths mixing with frantic, scraping nails, until, with a snarl, your knife finds purchase in his neck, stealing the life from his eyes in an instant. You stab him again and again, shaking, until the ticking urgency pulls you back into control. With a deep breath, you steady yourself and wiggle the knife lodged in his trachea, your hands slippery with blood.

"You got death," you spit in a whisper, thumbing his lids shut.

You lift up.

Now you have a single gun.

It is an old thing. Outdated and far from the military-grade weapons Ghost has. It takes a moment to figure out the parts—your fingers fumble for the small magazine, which is stocked with three bullets. You pull the slide to chamber a round with a click and keep it ready in your hand as you circle the building toward the back, praying that Nereida managed. When you find her, she is stood over the man's body, a deep cut oozing on her cheek.

"He saw me," she says, swallowing. "But I did it."

You nod. "We need to hide them before we go in."

All three bodies are hidden behind the hay stacks. You cover them with manure to mask the smell, not wanting a horde of Greys to materialize. You'd spotted a door at the back and hope it may be more discreet then blazing in through the front, given that you don't know who all is in there. Finger ready on the trigger, you hold your breath as you lead Nereida into the old building, instantly met with the rich smell of pennies. The space quickly unfolds into an old butcher house, rusted hooks hanging from the stone ceiling, the air cramped and cold. 

"Une femme? Maman ne voudrait pas de toi—"

The voice echoes in your ear as you round the corner, and then a fiery bullet rips into the owner's chest. Nereida flinches. Another guard comes barreling over, shouting, but you slide the chamber and shoot him in the head.

You don't linger by the bodies, itching to check the first steel door you see. You lower the gun only to pull at the handle, but it won't budge.

"Check him for keys," you motion to the dead guard.

Nereida crouches, hands rifling through his pockets until she yanks free a ring of keys. Her fingers shake as she tries them one by one, the lock stubborn—until, at last, it gives. With a sharp tug, the door groans open, revealing a windowless chamber. In the center, a lone captive hangs from chains.

It’s Price. Shackles bite into his wrists, his bare chest mapped with deep bruises against pale skin. Beaten, but unbroken—his gaze sharp as it lifts to meet yours. Nereida chokes on a sob, ripping the hood off her head and sinking to her knees before him, cupping his jaw.

A weighted baritone manages: "Duchess."

"There is nowhere I will not find you," she croaks. Teary kisses find the corner of his mouth. "I'm here, I'm here."

"How did you—"

"We got out. Where are the others?" you ask.

His jaw grits. "I haven't seen them since they knocked us out."

"They must be here somewhere. We need to move quick before someone notices the bodies."

After finding the small key to undo the manacles, you leave them to each other for the moment, continuing down the hall until the next door. An undeniable pull rises in your chest, something that has nothing to do with the adrenaline rushing through you—something you can’t quite name. But when you open the door, your heart falters with unwelcome disappointment at the sight of Kyle. He looks equally battered, but still aware enough to lift his head as you step in.

"Who are you?" 

You lift the veil.

"It's me," you answer, the words almost lost in the rush of emotions. Only when you fully take in the room do you notice Ari, curled in the corner. They’ve put them in here together. While there are no obvious injuries on the boy, the sight of the open Bible on his lap, and the empty dinner plate beside him, sends a cold shiver down your spine. You touch his cheek, feeling warmth, and reassure him he’s safe.

You release both of them. "Price and Nereida are through the door down the left. I need to find Ghost. I’ll be back."

Kyle rubs his wrists and manages to stand despite his black eye and shaky legs. "I’ll come with you."

"No. I’ll get him." The words come out sharper than you mean to, but you turn away before he can question them.

You are pulled further through the tight, cold hallway, movements turning more hurried as you look around. There are a few more half-opened doors, but they only lead to supply closets filled with whips and metal batons and empty chambers where old blood stains the floors. Something sharp tugs at your heart, and for the first time since initiating your escape, your fingertips succumb to a tremor of fear. 

Where is he?

The hall spits out into a room where dried animal carcasses hang from the walls.

One final door sits on the far end.

The rusted lock resists, swears hissing from your lips—until a sharp kick forces it open.

The smell thickens with fresh blood, and a cold pit sinks into your stomach at the sight of him—bound in chains, his body slumped haphazardly. Unlike the others, he doesn’t lift his head. You rush forward, a shaky breath catching in your throat as you take in the blood caked on his shoulder blades, deep welts splitting through the inked skin. His back, too, is covered in wounds. He looks worse—so much worse—that a bite of anger swells moisture in your eyes.

"Simon, you idiot. What did you do?" The words slip out on a sharp inhale as you lower yourself in front of him. "Simon," you whisper again, silent tears hot against your lips. You thread a hand through his hair, tilting his jaw up with careful fingers. His eyes are heavy, but relief finds you when they flutter open. He’s alive. The reddened whites flicker over your face, unfocused—until something strange sharpens the haze. A flicker of fear.

"It's me, Simon. We're getting out of here."

The brief fear shifts into shock when he recognizes your face, and only after you fumble with the key ring does understanding click into place, causing his jaw to flex. "Where... where is she?"

"I don't know, but we need to hurry. They have her." You undo the manacles, and his body rolls heavily into you, face falling onto your collarbone. You struggle to hold him up, gripping his shoulders without touching the wounds. A low groan bleeds through his teeth, and his eyes flutter shut again. No, no, no. "Please, you have to... you have to get up, Simon. I can't—she's going to fucking die!"

His upper chest rapidly expands with a breath, and he musters the strength to lift his weight off you and slap a hand against the wall. As he leverages his weight up, you help by grabbing beneath his other arm, until a final rush of adrenaline gets him on his feet. Urgency snaps tension into his limp shoulders, and he growls out another, more steady, breath.

"Price," he says.

"He's alive. Come on."

It takes some effort to help him walk at first, but eventually, he manages on his own. You guide him to the first room, where the others are pacing, murmuring in low voices.

"Simon, Jesus," Price mutters when he sees him.

Ghost brushes it off, his eyes narrowing. "They're going to kill her."

"At sunrise," you add, your voice tight. You pull out the pistol and show it to them. "I have one bullet left. I don't know how many more men are in this cult, but we've killed six so far."

"We have one shitty old gun." Kyle growls in frustration. "They took all our shit. How are we going to—"

"We find the weapons. They must have stored them somewhere," Price says.

"We can't just go searching through every building here. We don't have the time," you press. "And how are we supposed to get it back without everyone noticing we're gone?"

"I don't give a fuck about the guns. We find her first," Ghost grits, nostrils flaring. 

"We can't help her if we don't think things through. We can't just start a war with these people empty-handed, Simon," Price says.

"We find her first!"

"Simon," you say, reaching for his arm, but he pulls it away, clenching his bloody fist. The energy radiating from him would scare you if you didn't feel the same way.

Just then, there is the faint sound of a door opening and footsteps clanging through the hall. You tense up, two male voices shouting in echoes, one of them vaguely familiar.

"Quelqu'un les a tués ! On doit régler cette merde avant que Maman découvre quoi que ce soit."

"Les putains de prisonniers!"

Before you can react, Ghost snatches the pistol from your grip. The second they rush toward the open door, he launches at them—an elbow to one’s face, the butt of the gun breaking the nose of the other. Price uses Nereida's knife to stab the fallen guard, while Kyle helps Ghost subdue the second one. You only recognize him as the man who made you strip when they forcibly drag him toward the manacles, the sight of his blonde hair making your nails curl into your palms.

"You stupid fucking Brits!"

Ghost strikes the gun into his left eye, making him jerk within the constraints, howling as the socket turns into bloody pulp. 

Kyle grips the man's scalp from behind to hold his head up, while Ghost presses the gun into his cheek, where you notice a wound shaped like a bite mark.

"Tell us where she is," he roars. "Or I'll take the other eye."

Nereida cowers into the corner, holding onto Ari's arm. 

"I don't know!" the man spits blood, and Ghost digs the gun into his cheek, ripping it open further until the bitten flesh hangs as a torn flap, exposed all the way to his eye. The scream that follows feels inhuman. "I swear, I don't—I don't fucking know!"

Fresh blood drips to the floor. Price, much more calm, lowers at the man's side. "How many people live here?"

The man grits his teeth, struggling to answer, "T-thirty males, and six females. Plus the infants."

Twenty-two now, you count in your head.

"And the weapons we had. What about those?" Price questions further.

When only staggered, pained breaths fills the room, Ghost tosses the bloody gun and grabs the knife from Price, stabbing the man's kneecap without hesitation. Another scream ensues, and there is the small itch to cover your ears, but you steel yourself against the wall to keep watching.

"Answer the fucking question." Ghost twists the knife in his knee.

He cries out, more bloody spittle flying from his mouth. "All of the ammo is hidden. Only A-Alexandre knows!"

"Who is Alexandre?"

“Maman's son, he enforces her commands and oversees the males.”

"Where is he?" Price asks, voice hard.

“He… he resides in the work shed, while the rest of us sleep in the quarters within the barn.”

You step forward. "We saw another building outside with just one guard, that must be it."

There is a beat of silence as Price processes the information, giving Ghost a satisfied nod. With pain still contorting his face, the man's eye drifts past Ghost's shoulder toward you. His lips twitch into a faint, bloody smirk that makes your skin crawl. Ghost follows his gaze, snarls, and abruptly slashes the man's throat from ear to ear.

B

It is still dark when Eloise comes to awaken her, though Blue's eyes never once fell shut with sleep. She spent the short-lived night alternating between staring at the crescent moon outside the window, and fiddling with the knitting needles left on the table. There is a new dress in the woman's clutch, beautiful white fabric embroidered with flowers, and a pair of beautiful leather shoes in the other hand.

"See? I told you the dress would be nicer." She smiles and hands it over, as if to offer something to be thrilled for. "You must change quickly. There is a lovely breakfast of framboises and milk waiting for you. Put these on as well." She sets the shoes on the floor.

Blue thinks it strange, to bother feeding her just before her death. Blankly, she asks, "How many people will be there? To watch me die."

Eloise's smile quivers slightly, a slight crack in her composure. "Not too many, I assure you. Only a few of us women, and one or two worthy men. Most are still sleeping." After a pause, she adds even quieter, almost ashamed, "Be thankful you don’t suffer through childbirth instead. It is... a painful thing. Long, too. At least this pain will be honorable and swift."

Blue's fingers tighten around the dress. "Okay. Do you mind if I change alone, please?"

Eloise bows her head. "Of course."

She casts one last gentle glance her way before shuffling out of the room, locking the door behind her and leaving Blue with only the dress and shoes. Once the door is closed, Blue quickly slips the dress on, shuddering as the cold fabric caresses her limbs. It’s more beautiful than anything she can remember ever wearing, and that disgusts her. Swallowing the churn in her stomach, she grabs the needles and sits back on the bed.

The wounds on her feet are shallow, her fingernails only able to pierce the thick skin slightly. Using the needles, she digs into them deeper, trembling from the pain that throbs as fresh blood begins to seep from the soles. She cuts and cuts furiously, teeth gritted, praying it’s enough to soak through the shoes she slips on over the new wounds. She covers the blood stains on the sheet with the blanket, then stands, almost crying out from the agony of walking on her torn feet.

"Please dad," she whispers, closing her eyes briefly, before calling to Eloise that she is ready.

"Is everything alright, miss? You've been in there for a while." "What are you doing with the female? It’s forbidden!" "A woman? Maman wouldn’t want you—" "Someone killed them! We need to fix this shit before Maman finds out anything." "The fucking prisoners!"

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part twenty-six —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 4.5k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex!!! SEX. enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

You run back inside.

Discreet steps against the wood floor—the bathroom door quietly clicks shut behind you.

You lean your back against it. Eyed closed as your heart pumps between your ears. He left you. But he kissed you back—the sting in your split lip is proof. You move to the mirror. Blown-out pupils and a swollen mouth stares back at you. You touch them with your fingers in disbelief, then trace the faint marks on your jaw where he gripped you.

"You liked it."

A whisper of acceptance. 

You grip the counter, knuckles bone-white, and quickly work the fly of your jeans. One touch to your underwear confirms you are soaked—a thick pulse between your legs that matches the artery in your neck. Furiously, you work your fingers through the slippery folds, a thumb to your clit and two fingers blindly plunging in. The first orgasm in years hits you swiftly. A jolting, cathartic wave. You bite your tongue to stay silent, filling your mouth with a pearl of iron blood as images of a skull mask flash through your mind.

You struggle to breathe. 

In and out.

When the pleasure fades, you wipe your hand on your shirt, wriggle your jeans up, and zip them.

"Twix—" a quiet tap on the door. "Are you in there?"

You nearly jump as if you've been caught. 

You swipe your tongue over your bottom lip as if to erase the evidence.

When you carefully open the door, blue eyes peer at you through the dark.

"Are you okay?" she whispers. "What are you doing up?"

A tight coil in your stomach. You can't look at her. "I just was, um—I couldn't sleep."

"Did you have a bad dream?"

The lie comes easy. "Yeah."

"Me, too. I woke up and realized you weren't beside me."

"I'm... I'm sorry. I'm coming back now." An exhale filters through your nose along with a wave of sheer exhaustion. "We really need to get some sleep."

You settle back in the sleeping bag. You touch your torn lip once more—it's like you can still feel him there—then curl onto your side. Sleep steals you, but it's thin and short-lived, fragmented by restlessness. Before the break of dawn, when it's still dark, Nereida rouses you and Blue with a tap to your shoulders. Ghost must've switched watch with Price at some point because he is inside the cottage, just waking up himself.

You try not look at him, but fail to catch yourself when you roughly roll up the sleeping bag. He looks the same, unchanged. You don’t know why you thought he might look different after what happened. When his eyes lift to meet yours, you quickly tear your gaze away.

Everyone eats a small breakfast—just enough for fuel but not enough to risk sickness from exertion. You shove everything from the night before into your box and readjust your focus.

Ghost and Kyle unload the truck, piling supplies into the raft while Price gives instructions. "If we keep rowing southeast, we'll eventually reach land," he explains. "The wind shifted directions overnight, now moving south. It should help keep the needle steady, as long as it doesn't change course again."

With the raft fully inflated, they carry it to the shoreline. The first light of dawn paints the horizon, a sliver of orange sun dancing over the water. The tide is gentler than last night, its waves foaming quietly over the sand. "Ghost and Kyle will swim first," Price continues, "but we all need to be ready to switch when they get tired."

You glance at the others as you start unlacing your boots, shoving your socks inside. Clothes will hinder your movement and offer no insulation against the water. Nereida stands beside you, undressing and handing you a sports bra.

"Wear this. It's basically a swimsuit," she says.

"Thanks."

It is much less tattered than the simple bra you own. You turn your back and let her cover you as you snap it on. It should feel embarrassing exposing this much skin—stripped down to your underwear and bra—but you imagine it as a bikini. The fact that all of you are just trying to get across alive helps.

But when you turn back around, the thought of survival is staggered by the sight of the last person you want to look at. He is pinching the collar of his plain black tee, lifting it over his head and revealing a bare, scarred torso. The skull mask is gone, but his features are unmistakable. Hard jaw. Strong nose. Thick brows. Your stomach tightens. His face is—

"Good to go, Simon?"

He nods firmly to Price, clad only in black briefs that hug his corded thighs. Bending to undo his combat boots, his eyes meet yours briefly. He left you. Your nails dig into your palms as you look away, following Nereida to the raft. Price has positioned it half in the water, half on the sand, where Blue and Ari are already settled. There are two oars. He hands one to you, keeping the other along with the compass.

Kyle has stripped, as well. 

He dips his fingers in the water, gauging the temperature. 

You wade in the ankle-high tide to get inside. It's lukewarm at the surface, and a bit colder at the soles of your bare feet.

Ghost scoops a handful and splashes it over his face, hair, and chest.

"Fucking kill me," you whisper under your breath. Nereida looks at you.

"You're okay?"

"Huh? Yeah." 

"Let me know if you get tired of rowing."

"Will do."

The sea used to be a place you visited during holidays with your family, diving into the waves with your sister. Now—you stare at the sunrise on the horizon and hope that by the end of day it will materialize into France. Ghost and Kyle push the raft fully into the water until it becomes too deep for them to stand, then you start rowing, with strong strokes that make you breathe hard through your nose. 

"Keep an eye on them for any signs that they need to get out," Price orders Blue, Nereida, and Ari. "Throw out the rope if they get far behind."

You glance back at them as your biceps flex. Your eyes land on a strong, tattooed back. He hates swimming, you know. But his body weaves through the water with strong strokes of his arms that keep him aligned with the back corner of the raft. 

You row for the first half-hour, your arm beginning to tremble wildly. Nereida takes over, rowing for another half-hour before Ghost and Kyle need a break. They cling to the raft's edge, struggling to keep pace. Getting back on the raft alone is impossible—it requires strength from someone aboard to pull you up, or the raft could tip over. Price hoists Kyle inside first, then leaps in. You grab a blanket, wrapping Kyle tightly to stave off his shivering. Minutes later, Kyle then helps Ghost aboard at the same time you swing your legs over the edge. Your turn. 

Salty water envelops you.

It threatens to enter the seam of your mouth.

You grab the back of the raft to situate yourself, an immediate tremble moving through your limbs.

Despite the May warmth, the seawater remains frigid this far out, with land nowhere in sight.

"Listen to your body. Don’t wait—tell us the second you can’t go any longer."

It's Ghost barking at you from the raft. You absorb his words and start swimming, moving each leg and arm in opposition. You crane your neck against the broken water to gulp in regular breaths of air. Already sore from rowing, it is not long before your pace slows down. You take a break, blindly snatching onto the edge, before continuing. Not even an hour later, you are sputtering, numb all over, and feel lightheaded. You call out over the water that you fight to not swallow.

"I can't—I need out!"

"Pull her in!"

You reach for the raft again, but a rolling wave fights against your arm. Your head dips lower, legs flailing to stay afloat. When your face breaks the surface again, the sting of salt sharp in your eyes, the gap between you and the raft has widened. The rope is thrown, but you dip under again, unable to reach it. Your lungs burn, a mouthful of water flooding in.

Panic seizes your muscles. 

A splash—

A body collides with your own, an arm beneath your breasts.

They paddle with the other arm, pulling you to the halted raft.

"Grab her!" Ghost shouts.

A gulp of air widens your lungs as someone else grabs you beneath the arms and lifts you up. A towel is wrapped around your trembling body as you curl up on the raft, conserving every bit of warmth you can, trying to catch your breath. Kyle puts another layer over you, rubbing your arms.

"You need water."

You nod, breath ragged, as the rim of a metal canteen presses to your lips. You take a slow sip, cautious, fearing your stomach might rebel.

For the next hour, you’re left to recover. Weak, but with each sip of water that Blue helps you with, your mind clears. The others rotate shifts and Ari and Blue help row. You all eat a little to replenish energy. Nereida swims for almost as long as you did, until she calls for a break. The sun beats overhead. You can't tell how long it has been, but you overhear Price estimate you can't be more than 10 kilometers out from reaching land.

Ghost and Kyle have held up in the water for far longer than you did, but when Kyle switches with Price, you grow nervous watching even Ghost begin to start losing ground beside the raft. A glimpse of his face against the water reveals paled skin and lips. 

You shrug off the blanket and grab Kyle's arm at the oar. "He needs another break. Help him up. We'll switch."

He hesitates. "You shouldn't go back in yet, Twix."

"I'm fine now, I can—"

"I'll go again." Nereida lets go of the other oar. "Take over here, Twix."

Nereida is in the water before Kyle helps Ghost in. There is a shiver over his shoulders that you try to silence with the blanket you were using, draping it over him and rubbing it into his damp skin furiously. Your eyes catch, but not a word is exchanged before he takes hold of the blanket from you, keeping it on like a cloak. You get him the canteen and then are back to rowing with the bit of strength you regained.

You borrow the compass from Kyle to double-check the needle is still where it needs to be. Southeast. The wind has died down some, and the current is steady. Price needs to rotate with Kyle a few kilometers later. Ghost is on the other oar now. Arms burning, you get a break at the back of the raft. Then the wind begins to change. The waves jostle higher towards the west. Ghost and Price have to push hard to keep the raft moving against the shifting waters.

You keep watch on Nereida and Kyle. Suddenly, her hand slaps for the edge of the raft. Her eyes roll back. 

"Shit, shit, shit."

You reach for her just as she starts vomiting in the water. 

You flex your core to muster the strength to lift her, but her eyes shutter and she becomes dead weight in your arms. 

"Someone help me! She's passed out!"

Price is there in an instant.

"Nereida!"

He pulls her body in without considering the weight limit. The raft threatens to lower and let in water before Ghost quickly jumps out. You help Price wrap her in a blanket as he presses two fingers to her neck, feeling for a pulse. 

"It's slow," he grits.

Her lips are violet. You touch her cheek. It feels icy. "Her body is struggling to keep warm. It could be hypothermia. Take off her wet clothes—"

More watery bile expels from her mouth and he is quick to turn her so she can't choke. 

He continues holding her, rubbing her arms to ignite warmth. He strips off her wet underwear and bra and keeps her tightly swaddled in two blankets. Her lashes flutter, but she fails to fully regain consciousness, muttering slurred speech when he tries to talk to her.

You look up at the sun lowering toward the horizon. 

The unmanned raft has begun to float with the current.

"We have to keep moving," you say to yourself. You grab for the oar. "Ari, get the other one." 

He follows your command. Gritting his teeth to use all his strength.

The two of you row as Price keeps her up in his arms. 

"Come on, duchess. Warm up for me."

Firm kisses to her wet scalp. 

Only when she is able to keep her eyes open and hold the blanket for herself does he take the oar from Ari. "Keep checking her pulse," he orders the boy. "And talking to her."

Nereida is beyond weakened; she can't help anymore. You've been out on the water for at least seven or eight hours now—the sun is beginning to lower when you have to swim a second time. Ghost is in the water with you. When you begin to struggle again, holding onto the raft with jagged breathing, he swims up.

"Do you need to stop?"

"No, I've got it."

"Don't fucking lie—"

"We see land!" Kyle calls from the raft. 

That encourages you. You swallow more air and keep going, pushing harder.

Your entire body turns numb.

When a cold, rocky floor touches your feet, you almost cry.

Cold snot bubbles from your nose.

You hold onto the raft and wade through the water the rest of the way, Ghost wrapping an arm around your waist to keep your wobbly legs upright. The coast materializes as rocky cliffs and sand. You land on it, hands and knees, stomach finally hurling. You retch a few times before Ghost grabs you by the armpits and drags you. 

Price carries a wrapped-up Nereida out of the raft. "We need a fire. The temperature will drop soon."

Kyle heaves the raft all the way onto the sand, Ari helping. "Somewhere the smoke can't be seen."

"We don't have the time to search tonight. She can't walk right now. We all need rest and warmth."

The risk of a fire is forgone. You travel only a bit further, to the grassy cliffside, before collapsing. Ari and Blue collect softball-sized rocks from the beach and create a small pit as the rest of you wrap up in blankets and sleeping bags, drinking water and eating. Price forces Nereida to lift her head from his lap and take small bites of canned beans. You feel starved, but force yourself not to swallow too fast at risk of throwing it back up.

You are still shivering by the time the flames catch. The heat almost makes you moan. Even Ghost sticks his hands in front of it, the skin slowly regaining color. 

"You guys sleep, and we'll keep watch. We can wake you the moment we see something," Ari says once the sun sets. It is a struggle to keep your eyes open. 

Ghost seems ready to argue—

"You need to rest, Dad," Blue says softly. She presses her forehead to his shoulder and adjusts the blanket on him.

"The moment you see something," he says.

She nods. "We will."

---

B

Blue lays the pistol beside her. She pokes at the fire, trying to keep the crackling embers aglow. All of the adults are asleep. They still need warmth, that much she knows.

On the raft, the helplessness settled deep in her bones—the kind that came with being told to stay still, to do nothing but watch. The others were out there, risking everything, while she remained frozen, powerless. Ghost, the one person she’d always believed could handle anything, even he had struggled. She’d never seen him falter, never seen him wear down. But now, the weight of it begins to sink in—the world is bigger than before. Even Ghost won't be able to fight off everything that lurks in the dark.

"We'll need more firewood," Ari says, breaking her thoughts, his grip tight on the rifle.

She rests the poker by the gun and rises. "I'll get it. You keep watching."

There aren't any trees nearby, at least none she can see in the dark. She remembers the dry driftwood at the bottom of the cliff. Carefully, she skirts down, gathers as much as she can carry, and climbs back up. The fire breathes bigger as she places the wood in the stone circle, flames reaching like outstretched hands in the dark. 

She stares at the fire with her arms circled around her knees. The adults have all the sleeping bags. They need it more. Her jacket protects her from the sea breeze, but her cheeks are starting to grow numb. 

"Where are we again?" she asks.

Ari glances at her from the side. "France."

"France," she repeats, clenching her hands. Far away from her old home, he means. She looks up at the stretch of black water. There's no going back.

Her voice is meek. "What do you think it'll be like? The place we're going to."

Ari breaks a stick in half and adds it to the fire. Embers spit out, one landing on her jeans. "Better than this shit."

A sigh blows a piece of hair from her face. "Really, though."

"I dunno. There will be a lot more people. No Greys. There will be kids our age and maybe a football field. Some good food, not just stuff in cans. We might have to go to school, though."

"I don't think I want to go to a school."

He laughs softly. "Same."

She tries to imagine it, but she can't. The world from before feels too far away, like a dream. The glimpses of memories often blur with her imagination, filling in the blank spaces. She can remember a place her mother used to drop her off in the mornings, where there were other little kids. Toys, too. The blocks she used pull out onto the rug and be forced to share with others. Was that a school? 

A yawn threatens her lips, and she lazily blinks it away. She curls and uncurls her hands, trying to stay awake. Ari notices, lifting a brow. "Hey. We can't sleep."

"I know. I'm just... tired."

"Cold?"

"A little bit."

He unzips his jacket and leans over, draping it over her shoulders so they can share. A deep blush colors her cheeks as she glances back at her sleeping dad, then decides to snuggle into Ari's side. It offers her a small measure of comfort.

“Let’s play a game,” he suggests. "To kill the time."

"Okay. Would you rather get eaten by Greys or turn into one yourself?" she whispers.

"Is this your idea of a game?" He teases, before answering, "I guess get eaten, so at least it'll be over. Being a Grey means I've got to wander around for years like that."

"Unless someone shoots your brain."

"Right."

"Your turn."

"Would you rather kiss a boy or a girl?"

Her nose twists and she nudges his ribs. "Shut up. That's a dumb question."

"Well?"

She looks down at the dried sand on the toe of her boot. "I probably won't ever kiss anyone."

"You will someday."

"I think Ghost would kill them." Her tone leans serious. 

The boy beside her hums and whispers low in her ear. "He just couldn't know, then."

Her blush deepens and that feeling in her stomach rolls, mixing in with the fear she's tried her best to shut out since they left. When she looks up, warm lips give a quick peck to her cheek, and then pull away, the owner of them smirking when he sees her expression. 

"Just focus on keeping watch," she mumbles, but doesn't move even an inch as he continues to hold her close.

---

T

Sand is in your eyes. 

And your toes.

Every joint creaks when you awaken beside a French beach. The caws of seagulls makes your face twist. You slowly shift up, feeling heavy as if someone is laying on you. But that's just soreness. 

Kyle is the only other person up besides Ari. The boy is sitting by the cliff's edge, and Blue is curled under a jacket, asleep, beside him. When your eyes flick over to Ghost, his eyelids are still slack. In bright morning light, you can make out every scar and every hair on his jaw.

Kyle is warming canned soup over the fire. "Hungry?"

"Fucking starving."

By the time you scoop the first bite in your mouth, the others are waking up. Nereida is still tucked under a heavy blanket, curled against her husband. Bags painted heavily under eyes. Price takes a cigar out over breakfast. Apparently, he brought along two. VegaFina.

"Feels like as good a time as any to indulge," his timbre muses over the clanking of spoons and murmur of the sea. He inhales and offers it Kyle, then over to you. Fuck it. You gingerly accept, needing something to help ignore the ache in your bones and never-ending presence of Ghost.

"You should've enlisted, Twix. Could've done well."

The smoke burns your throat and you cough it out. "Respectfully, there were ten other things I would've rather done than that. Stripping being one of them." A silence follows your words and you look at their faces, handing the cigar back as you mumble, "That was a joke."

It’s isolated here, the kind of place where the world feels safer. The next three days pass in a blur of rest and planning. You also take your bow to kill a hedgehog you discover in a burrow, drying out the meat to keep with you. Getting here was just the first step—there’s still over 800 kilometers between you and the Swiss Alps. The first evening, Price and Ghost set out towards the nearest road. They read the signs, comparing them to the map until they confirm your location: near Sangatte. Along the way, they discover a culvert deeper inland—a better spot to hide the smoke from the fire. You move the camp.

Annoyingly, Ghost has put the mask back on, though it does help you to ignore him. 

"We should follow the road as much as we can, but stick to open spaces where there will be less Greys. We need to conserve ammo," Price mutters over the fire on the third night, studying the map. You steal a peek. The stretch of land you have to cross is intimidating; much bigger than England, and now you're without a truck. 

"Should be fun," you mutter under your breath. 

The plan is to keep moving tomorrow. 

One more night of rest.

Before then, you decide to bathe. You reek of dried sweat and saltwater. Your hair is still clumped from swimming, and your skin is chafed under your bra. Nereida has a small bar of soap and a handmade salve with milk thistle in it.

"It helps irritated skin," she claims, handing it over along with a towel. 

"Thank you, again." You study her, relieved to see that her cheeks are more alive. The hypothermia, luckily, was mild. A more severe or prolonged case would've been untreatable by just a blanket and fire. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yes. I owe you my life, truly." She brushes your hair behind your ear in a gesture of gratitude and smiles softly. "John and I will not forget that."

The sea is the last place you want to be and won't help matters, but a kilometer up the road is a freshwater creak where Kyle got more water earlier. You head there under the cloud-streaked sky, afternoon turning to evening, and strip down to just your bra and underwear, leaving your clothes, knife, and bow in a neat pile by a tree. The water in the shallow creek is warm. A satisfied breath leaves your lips as you sink in, all the way to your chin. At first, you just sit there, reveling in the way life hums around. Birds in the trees, minnows through your toes. 

He got death, you got life.

You close your eyes for a moment but quickly reopen them when you see red against the backs of your eyelids. 

You move on to washing. First, scrubbing the soap hard through your scalp, ridding it of sand. Then, your armpits and unshaven legs. 

There is movement in your peripheral. 

You thrash around in the water. 

Ghost is leaned against the tree where your clothes are, watching you.

You keep your body submerged and lower your brows. "Do you get off to sneaking up on people?"

"Just a little."

His tone makes your lips twitch. "The name suits you well, then."

When he simply stares, you get out of the water, crossing your arms over your chest. You push past him, grabbing the towel and immediately covering yourself. You're towel-drying your hair when he grabs your shoulder and turns you around to face him.

"You can't ignore me forever."

A sigh of disbelief pushes through your nose. "As if you don't ignore me? I'm not the one who runs away in the middle of things." You bite the inside of your cheek, hard, and then shake your head. "If you don't want me, then fine. I can live with that. Let's keep pretending it never happened and just focus on keeping ourselves alive—"

His weight shifts as a hand reaches for the back of your wet hair, tilting your gaze up. You flinch away, but he keeps you put. "You'd had a shit day," is the reasoning he gives.

"Are you kidding?" you breathe out, almost choking on a bark of hysterical laughter. "Everyday is a shit fucking day." You roll your eyes. "You stopped just because I killed someone? I've doe it plenty of times before. I also almost drowned and Nereida—"

He stops you, eyes darkened. "What I mean is—if we kept going, I would've fucked you then and there. If I'm going to fuck you, Twix, you are going to be fully in the right mind to make that choice, because once it happens, there is no going back."

Your breath seizes. The blunt words make an unwarranted shiver, warmer than the water was, push through your spine.

His fingers tighten in your hair, continuing. "If I fuck you, it will not be just once. Do you understand?"

The world around you tips on its axis.

Your nostrils flare as you absorb his question: do you understand? No—nothing about this is something you could understand, and you don't think you want to. Your breath quickens, chest rising and falling, and your nipples suddenly feel uncomfortably tight in the wet bra you wear, a gentle breeze making them itch. Your mind goes blank for a moment as he stares down at you expectantly. You feel it now: the palpable want that bears down at you. That heavy something that passes through his eyes. 

Finally, you give an imperceptible nod before letting the towel around you fall at your feet, growling out a breath, and launching into him.

touchdown | series masterlist.

ryomen sukuna x fem!reader [18+] | angst, fluff, smut

ᡣ𐭩 pairing. football player! sukuna x journalism major! reader

ᡣ𐭩 summary. ryomen sukuna. your best friend’s frat brother. he’s tall, hot, suave, not to mention the best thing to happen to college football since…well, ever. he’s in a world completely different to your own. while he spends his nights partying and racking up his body count, you spend your nights reading and racking up your word count. but when the two of you decide to come to a mutually beneficial agreement, you realise you aren’t so different after all.

ᡣ𐭩 warnings/tags. 18+. fem!reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, alcohol consumption, weed consumption, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, fake dating, opposites attract, acquaintances to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, sukuna being an asshole, best friend gojo.

ᡣ𐭩 status. ongoing

ᡣ𐭩 moodboard. no.1 no.2

ᡣ𐭩 word count.

chapter index.

ch1. ryomen sukuna wants to send you a message!

anon headcanons.

a note from the author. hi! my name is lana, and this is going to be my first tumblr long fic/series! i used to write on wattpad, but engagement was so low that it wasn’t worth it anymore :( i just want to give a preliminary thank you to everyone that reads this! it means so much to me that people enjoy my writing as much as i love doing it! if anyone gets really into the series and wants to send in headcanons about it, my inbox is always open! my requests are currently on too! and for those of you who don’t want to read something that ends sad, this is for you, this series will have a happy ending!

series tags. #touchdown #touchdownheadcanons

Not Just Anybody | baby daddy!sukuna x f!reader

summary: everything's going good, amazing actually. your baby girls happy, healthy, and turning one. your co-parenting relationship with sukuna has never been better, you smile a little more and fight less. yet despite all of the progress you've made, you continue to be unaware of anger and resentment that continues to build up inside of him.

genre: hidden child trope, toxic relationships, ex-fwb to co-parents to lovers, angst, fluff, smut, emotional cheating

part three | part four | part five

notes: again, tag list is closed! this part is also 9.3k words, so u may want to split it up or save it for later ❤️

Sukuna’s house is different from yours– it’s sharper, darker, colder. It’s devoid of warmth, a stark contrast from yours, yet there’s a certain calm in the air when you wake up there in the morning. It could just be the fact that there's no random toys laying around, something you don’t get to wake up to much often. 

Or maybe the fact that you actually got to sleep in for once in your life since Sukuna was the one who kept an eye on the baby monitor– waiting for any sign that Sayomi was starting to wake up. The goal was to catch her before she started crying so you could sleep in. 

Maybe this was your gift for keeping a little human alive and happy for an entire year— a full night of uninterrupted sleep and waking up at 10:00 am. 

You weren’t sure why he was so adamant on having you two sleep over the night before her birthday, but after a whole week of him practically begging you without giving a real reason why, you finally said yes. 

It made sense when he surprised you with Yomi’s very own room. He wasn’t sure what to get her for her birthday and decided it would’ve been perfect since she didn’t have one at his house in the first place. The room itself was the complete opposite from the rest of the house, filled with different shades of pink and soft textures– very cottage fairy vibes.

You avoided saying that though, only because he would’ve made fun of you for wording it that way. But it was beautiful, it became the one spot in Sukuna’s dark home that the sun had shone on.

He also revamped the room that was next to hers for you, just in case you didn’t feel completely comfortable with letting her spend the night there alone. He didn’t have to go that far, you would’ve stayed in any room or even the couch, but you appreciated the extra effort. Your room definitely wasn’t as fancy as Ms. Sayomi’s, but you could tell he had you in mind when decorating it. Soft white linen sheets, some art pieces hung up on the wall and a couple of plants laying around. It had a similar vibe to your home.

The party isn’t until Saturday, but you still wanted the day of her actual birthday to be special. You took the day off from work and Sukuna took the day off from practice. Some close family will be coming over a little later for an early dinner. It’ll be your parents, along with Jin, Yuji, his other brother Choso and Choso’s long time girlfriend, Yuki. 

You haven’t met Yuki yet, but you’re fine with having her around your daughter. She’s been with Choso since their freshman year of highschool. Just from what you’ve heard so far, you get the feeling that she won’t be someone temporary in Yomi’s life— something you won’t outwardly say to Sukuna, at least not in that same exact wording. The last thing you need is him getting offended that you still don’t want him to introduce her to Yorozu. 

They’ve been official for a little over three months now, you told yourself that you’ll allow it once they reach the one year mark. And no, you don’t think you’re being harsh on the timeframe, you hold yourself to the same standard as well. You want Sayomi to meet a future step-parent, not a girlfriend or boyfriend. 

You take one last look at your phone before heading downstairs. The closer you get to the staircase, the more your daughter’s laughter fills the air. She’s grown to be quite the daddy’s girl, Sukuna really doesn’t have to do much and she’s already smiling at him. 

“Mm!! Hi mama!” She excitedly greets you when you come into view, it’s the one sentence she can say just about perfectly.

Sukuna’s feeding her breakfast and you're pretty sure he was just eating her food as a “joke”, hence the laughter. 

“Good morning, birthday girl!” You lean down and give her several kisses on the cheek. “Are you eating breakfast with your dad?” 

She tilts her head when she looks at you and babbles some random sequence of words that are only known to her, then finishes it off strong by saying “dada”. 

“Sounds fun babe!” You enthusiastically say, it’s always better to just act like you know. Sukuna ends up laughing, having no idea what the hell she just said either but he likes the passion behind it. 

“Did you sleep good?” He asks in place of a normal greeting, continuing to feed Yomi the rest of her oatmeal. 

“I actually did.” You say, brushing some of the baby’s hair off of her forehead. You’re a little afraid to look anywhere else, Sukuna’s in nothing but a pair of short rugby shorts. You try to not think that everything’s about you, but you’re seriously having a hard time believing he didn’t do this on purpose. 

Whether it was on purpose or not, the one thing you know for sure is that this man is not above accusing others of lusting over him and trying to objectify him– all it takes is a glance while Sukuna’s in a silly goofy mood.

“What about you two? Did she wake up super early today?” 

“She woke up so fucking early,” he sighs and complains. “She got up at 5:00 am, so I gave her a bottle–”

“Did you measure it correctly?”

“Who knows, she’ll survive.” He waves off your concerns and continues. “Anyways, I gave her a bottle and took her back to my room. We both fell back asleep, then she woke me up at 8:00 am by picking my fuckin’ nose.” 

“That’s so gross Yomi, he has germs up there.” You squish her cheeks and tease her. 

“She would not be here right now if you thought I had germs.” He murmurs, feeding her the last spoonful of her food. 

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.” 

The day goes by slowly. You end up having to go back to your house real quick to grab a couple things, like makeup since you forgot it for some reason. Other than you brief trip home, the three of you lounged around up until family members started showing up. 

The first to arrive was Sukuna’s side. As always, Yuji’s excited to see his baby cousin. No introductions were needed for Jin and Choso since you’ve already met them, so you introduce yourself to Yuki and spend some time getting to know her.

She was also nice enough to bring a smash cake for Sayomi, something that you and Sukuna slightly felt guilty about since you both completely forgot a cake and candles. 

You don’t even know how it slipped your mind– probably happened because her actual party is on a different day and this is literally your first time celebrating your child’s birthday. 

You quickly let it go after Sukuna told you a lot of kids in this world don’t get to have cake on their birthdays. In that moment you truly understood why he is the way he is.

Your parents arrive around an hour later. They don’t bother providing an explanation, even with Sukuna glaring at them as he patiently waited for one. Ever since they retired, they’ve started to run off of their own time, a.k.a it’s not 6:00 pm unless they say it is.

It’s kind of funny when you think about it, but you still feel bad for the people that have actual appointments with them. The only reason why your mom shows up to her workout classes on time is because they threatened to kick her out for constantly showing up late. 

Well deserved in your opinion, but you kept it to yourself. 

Even with how.. particular your parents can be, everyone gets along surprisingly well. As expected, they really liked Jin, but it was Choso that ended up capturing their hearts. They even made a comment about how they’d adopt him if they could.

Unfortunately Sukuna, who was already drinking, overheard that.

It’s one of those days where you’re not sure if he’s being serious or not. You were leaning towards him being serious since they gushed over all the guests, except him. He also started listing off reasons why he’s better than all of them, and since it’s Sukuna, he never ran out of reasons. 

It’s impressive how obsessed he is with himself.

“Do you guys want a refill?” Choso gestured at your parent’s empty glasses, interrupting Sukuna and giving him another reason in his head. 

“On top of that, I don’t interrupt others, especially when it comes to proving to others that I respect my elders.” Sukuna continues to ramble, he was also way more fucked up than he was when he first started. “Which is ageist, or however the fuck you pronounce it. Listen– mom, dad– I don’t care about how old someone is, there is no age limit to getting your ass beat.”

“Did you just call me an elder, Sukuna?” Your dad asks, deciding that getting called old was far more concerning than Sukuna basically saying his hands were rated E for everyone. 

“Me? Never!” He tries not to laugh as he begins to twist the narrative. “Choso said that shit, not me.”

“I never said that!” Choso defends himself. But it’s too late, Sukuna was going to win this argument by any means necessary. 

“You didn’t have to say it, you showed them that you thought they were old by offering to refill their drinks.” He turns away from your parents and smirks at his brother who was just trying to be nice. “They’re strong, independent people. Their arms aren’t go to break off by pouring themselves a well deserved drink for being the best grandparents in the world.” 

“Wow.” You turn to look at your parents who are floored by how he just doesn’t shut up when he’s drunk. “He holds you guys in such high regard yet you couldn’t even buy him his first pair of earrings.”

“Don’t you start with us now too.” Your dad says, you couldn’t tell if it was a warning or plea. 

“God forbid women have hobbies.” 

“Giving your father a headache is not a hobby.” He scolds you, he doesn’t get too far since you start laughing. 

“Okay, okay. I’ll stop, I’m done.” 

“Good ‘cause I was just getting started.” You already know who said this.

After chugging two massive glasses of water and listening to his daughter have a meltdown that he’s convinced was for fucking fun, Sukuna sobers up. You all decide it’s the perfect time to do a test run for the smash cake. She’s going to eat some of course, but everyone’s more interested in seeing how Sayomi would react to a group of people singing happy birthday to her. It might not be the most accurate result since there will be almost a hundred people at your house on Saturday, but it doesn’t hurt to try. 

So you guys give it a try. She’s slumped back in her high chair, staring at the cake like it’s more of an inconvenience than it is a delectable treat. Sukuna tries to tickle her neck and she just frowns and slaps his hand away.

But no tears. This is good. 

Her expression changes when you light the candle on top, making her a little more interested than before.

“Mama no?” She asks and you nod. 

“That’s right babe, no.” 

She points at the lit candle, “no?”

“No.” You say again, she seems to get it. Even if she didn’t and eventually tried to grab at it, you were close enough to stop her. “No touching, that’ll give you an ouchie.”

After fully explaining why fire was bad and doubting she understood or even listened, you moved on to the moment everyone’s been waiting for— the singing.

It’s kind of ridiculous how far you all would go to see what her emotional limit is, but you’re left with no other choice. On any other day, it’d be fine— cry your fucking heart out. But it’s her first birthday party, you’d rather not bring her to the point where she gets in one of her moods and then sleeps for the entirety of the day. If it’s something avoidable like not singing happy birthday or keeping balloons away from you, you’ll do it. 

It goes well at first, she doesn’t seem to care, but something bothers you. 

“Sukuna.”

“What?”

“Can you sing along with everyone?”

“No.” He responds stubbornly, crossing his arms as if it’d prove a point. 

“Why not?”

“I don’t like singing.”

“You’re singing happy birthday,” you scoff at him. “You don’t have to hit Mariah Carey notes to properly sing it.” 

“I don’t care. I gave her a room that’s bigger than some peoples homes, the fuck does she need me to sing to her for?” 

…

Not only did Sukuna sing beautifully, but Sayomi also didn’t cry for all the 12 times you’ve rehearsed the song. She even smiled at one point, so you have high hopes for Saturday. Everyone was quick to go home after that, which is understandable. You all had lost track of time, it was already pushing 9:00 pm when you brought the cake out.

You were the last to leave since you had to pack up all the stuff you had brought for the overnight stay, but there was no rush. Yomi was already fast asleep in Sukuna’s arms, so you were able to take your time making sure you didn’t forget anything important.

“You sure you two can’t spend the night again?” He asks as you walk toward the driveway. 

“I can’t, my parents are staying with me for two nights.” You remind him once again, too tired to even get frustrated at having to repeat yourself. 

He most likely does remember and just thinks he can talk you into it.

“So?” He chuckles, genuinely not understanding why that’s an issue.

“They’re staying with me because they want to spend that time with her.” You hold back a smile from how you actually have to break it down for him. “They want to see her at night before she sleeps and they want to eat their breakfast with her in the mornings. I doubt they’d stay if the house was empty.”

“That’s dumb but alright.” He mutters, placing a kiss on Yomi’s head right after. “Gonna feel empty here.”

“Are you still tipsy?” You ask, looking at him with slight disbelief.

“Maybe.” He says in response, yet the long pause beforehand tells you yes. “I’ve said worse than saying my house feels empty while drunk.”

“I believe that.” You end up smiling when thinking about how he tried to turn your parents and Choso into enemies. “I’m surprised you’re saying that in the first place. I doubt it’ll feel empty here if you invited your girlfriend over.” 

The suggestion brings genuine laughter to the man, eventually having to cover his mouth for a moment because Yomi began fussing around in his arms. 

“Say her name.” 

“Why would you want me to do that?” You immediately shoot him an annoyed look.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say her name before.” The smile on his face is way too warm for someone that’s just realized something like that. “It’s always ‘your girlfriend’ or just her pronouns.” 

“I think you’re thinking too much into it.” You laugh with him. “I wouldn’t even know how to confirm or deny that, it’s never crossed my mind.”

“Maybe.” He shrugs, not caring that much if it were true or not. “But yeah, I could invite her over.”

“You should.”

“Definitely should.” He easily agrees. “Probably won’t though.”

“Don’t complain about being lonely then.” You softly scold him. The way you said it makes him realize hasn’t felt this much warmth from you in years. 

Having her here wouldn’t fix that. 

He probably shouldn’t say that. 

It’s not the same as having you two here.

He probably shouldn’t say that either. 

It would never make a difference in the way you see him. 

“I know.” He ends up saying, then forces out a low laugh. “I probably just need sleep.”

“I think so too.” You end up taking Yomi into your arms and begin walking to your car, he follows right behind out of habit. “You’re not used to someone waking you up so much in the morning.”

“M’not– I’ll get used to it though.” He says, watching you put her into the car seat. 

His chest tightens a little more than usual this time around as he watches you gentle secure the rest of the straps.

“It’s fine if you don’t, I never did.” You let out a little sigh after stepping away from the backseat. “It’s just easy to get over it because she’s cute.” 

“She's the cutest,” he chuckles and shuts the backseat door. “I might be a little busy tomorrow, so if I don’t get the chance to visit then I’ll just see you Saturday morning.”

“Sounds good. Have a goodnight.” You offer him a little smile before getting in the car.

“You too.” He can’t find it in himself to smile back right now, but allows his eyes to linger on you a little longer. It’s the one thing you don’t get on him for and hopes you continue to just let him have it. 

As pathetic as it sounds, it’s all he has left.

—

“Nice of you to come out the night before your daughter's party.” It’s one of the first things Suguru says after you finally sit down and look at the menus. 

It was a new restaurant in the area that has quickly gained popularity from their food and laid back ambiance. It was still fancier than most, but one you could definitely relax and enjoy your dinner in. 

“You have no idea how much I needed this.” You admit, sounding more than relieved to be here with him. “It’s been such a long week trying to get ahead with work just so I could take some extra days off for Yomi.” 

“I bet.” He chuckles. “How’s work been for you?” 

“It’s doing good! I have 2 potential clients that reached out this month. I'm considering hiring an intern for extra help and to see what having an employee would be like.” 

“Why an intern? Just so you can say goodbye without feeling bad if you end up not liking it?” 

“That’s exactly why.” You laugh with him. “It’d be good for them too, they’d be getting the experience and a nice letter of recommendation for wherever they’d want to go next.” 

“That would be good for them.” He agrees and takes a sip of his drink. He’s a whiskey on the rocks kind of guy and you don’t know how he does it. “I remember getting so stressed out trying to land a good internship while I was in college, I never want to go through that again.” 

“Did you end up getting a decent one?” 

“More than decent, it was one of the top ten financial firms in the country.” He reveals, acting a little shy about it. “But my manager was such a fucking dick.” 

“That sucks, I'm sorry. I feel like it’s more common than not. I had 2 during college and 1 right after and they were all really rude. I just stuck through it to fluff up my resume.” 

“Yeah, same here—“

“Here you go, Sir.” A waitress ends up interrupting the conversation to drop off your plates. “And here’s yours Ma’am. Was there anything I could get you two before I step away?” 

“Yeah, a refill on this please.” He says, sliding his empty glass over to her. “Want more wine?” 

“Yeah sure.” You smile and slide the empty glass over to her. “Same as the last one please.” 

“Of course, I’ll be back with those shortly.” 

The rest of the dinner is kind of just that— small talk with some personal stories sprinkled into the mix.

You try not to talk about your daughter too much during dates. You make it known that she's your everything, but you’ve found that it’s nice to take a break from talking about things like milestones and teething.

Or the crippling anxiety you get whenever you think about how dangerous the world can be, and that you can try your best to protect her from it, but you’ll reach a time where you can’t and that terrifies you. 

But that’s a conversation that you save for your family and therapist. 

Suguru isn’t the first guy you’ve gone on dates with, but the one thing that’s made him stand out from the others is how he doesn’t seem to care that you’re a mom. 

He knows you’re busy a lot of the time and isn’t pushy when it comes to seeing you. He’s never made any backhanded comments about your life being ruined, like a couple of men have said in the past. You also like that he asks questions about her and seems genuinely curious, instead of asking just to be nice. 

Are you trying to find Sayomi a stepdad? Not really. You’re just having fun. Going out on dates and having girls nights for a couple hours, 3-4 times a month has helped you feel like yourself again in a short amount of time. 

It’s not like you bring people home to meet your daughter, so there was no harm in having some nights out. 

As you both begin to walk through the dining room, Suguru takes your hand in his and it’s oddly nice. You’ve slept with him a couple times before, but your internal reaction to something as innocent as having your hand held made you realize how touch starved you truly were. 

But the night is young, you’ll have time later to sulk about how lonely you feel sometimes. 

The cold air immediately hits you when you two step outside. Springs deceiving as always— you find yourself sweating at some parts of the day, then barely able to talk from how violent you shiver at night. 

Except the usual feeling of wanting to run into a car with a heater on full blast fades away when you get a glimpse of pink hair and mass walking up to you from the corner of your eye. 

This man couldn’t sneak up on anybody no matter how hard he tried. 

The moment you turn to face him, you can’t tell what he’s thinking. When he first saw you walking out of the restaurant, he wasn’t quite sure if it was you or not. 

He hasn’t seen you dressed up in almost 2 years. The times that he actually has shouldn’t even count since he’d rip the clothes right off of you, leaving you bare for him to enjoy. 

Then you got a little closer. Instead of your words, he was able to hear only the sound of your voice. You obviously don’t use it on him because you don’t like him anymore— for whatever fucking reason— but you used to use that same exact tone with him. 

He doesn’t even completely realize what he’s doing until Yorozu’s following behind him, asking where he’s going— and he suddenly realizes he’s walking straight over to you. 

There’s no plan in mind, there’s barely any thoughts except for what are you doing here and who did you leave his little girl with. 

“Oh, Sukuna!” is all you can fucking come up with right now. You two obviously aren’t together but you can’t help but feel like you got caught doing something bad, especially with the way he was looking at you. “Surprised to see you here, have you been here bef—“

“Where the fuck is Sayomi?” He cuts you off with a question that sounded more like an accusation. He didn’t even bother to introduce the woman he’s with or introduce himself to the man you’re with. 

He doesn't give a fuck about either right now, all he can see right now is you as he began to seethe.

“At home?” You let out a light laugh, mainly from how uncomfortable you’ve become in record fucking time. He makes it seem like she’s all alone at home or waiting in the car for you while you finish your date. “She’s spending time with her grandparents right now.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He continues to question you, looking back at Suguru once before going back to glare at you. He takes a small step forward and Yorozu lightly wraps her hand around his arm, you’re not sure if it’s an attempt to calm him down or hold him back. “I thought you were with her this whole time.”

“I didn’t know I had to.” You begin to defend yourself, but he just starts laughing, it makes it hard to continue speaking but you do anyway. People are starting to look and you don’t need him to cause a scene. “Are you mad? She’s safe at home right now.”

“Of course I’m fucking mad!” He begins to raise his voice, taking another step closer. “You didn’t fucking tell me other people were watching her tonight!”

“What do you mean other people?! They’re my parents!”

“That’s not fucking point! I thought you were with her this entire time!” There’s a strain in his voice as he begins to fully unload on you, it causes Suguru to step forward and hold his arm out in front of you. He doesn’t know what Sukuna’s like, you haven’t given him too many details, but with the way Sukuna’s looking at you right now, he’s fully prepared to block him from getting to you.

Seeing that pisses off Sukuna even more. 

“I don’t see the fucking issue, Sukuna!” You throw your arms out in defeat, “I don’t even see why I should be telling you where I’m going.”

“Babe, it's okay.” Yorozu steps in and tries to get him to relax, he drank a little bit before coming here, he could do anything right now. “I’m sure Sayomi’s safe.”

“No, no— YOU DON’T FUCKING GET IT!” He suddenly snaps at her, before pointing his finger at you. “Let’s get one thing straight, I don’t give a FUCK about what you do or where you go. What I care about is where MY DAUGHTER is and who she’s with. This whole fucking time I thought she was with her mother! I don’t care how simple it seems to you, I need to know that kind of shit!”

The whole street’s looking at this point and you swear you’ve never felt smaller. Sukuna continues to release years worth of anger on you, all while his girlfriend continues to try to soothe him while throwing little glares at you, and you just continue to shrink beside Suguru, who did not sign up for this shit tonight. 

“Jesus fucking christ– OKAY! I’m sorry, I’ll fucking tell you next time!” You yell back. “I didn’t think it was going to be a big deal.” 

“That’s his daughter, of course it’s a big deal.” Yorozu says, backing him up. Your eyes almost widen in surprise— you weren’t expecting her to say anything at all, now she’s trying to make you look worse than he already is. 

“I didn’t mean it like that. Are you fucking serious right now?” You grimace and take a step forward, but you end up getting stopped by Suguru who still has his arm out in defense. 

He wasn’t planning on saying anything, letting the parents sort this through and all, but even he reached his breaking point after seeing that the girlfriend was ready to go at it with you. Sukuna didn’t look like he was going to do anything about it anytime soon either. 

“Listen man.” Suguru turns to him, trying to sound as sincere as possible. “We get where you’re coming from, we understand. I can promise you she didn’t have any bad intentions behind this.”

Sukuna laughs then stares him dead in the eye, clearly not really to settle down just yet. “Who the fuck is we? ‘Cause last time I checked, it was her that hid a child from me for almost an entire fucking year and I doubt anything like that’s ever fucking happened to you. So tell me, do you actually fucking understand? NO.” He then turns back to you, “And now you’re keeping shit from me again, is this just who you fucking are?!” 

“No it’s not! I already said it wouldn’t happen again!” You cut him off in frustration and your eyes slowly become glossier and glossier. “I apologized, Sukuna! I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

“It sounds like you’re just trying to get him to shut up!” Yorozu says. “You were defensive from the start and don’t sound remorseful at all.” 

“How do you expect me to act when it was him that immediately started attacking me?! He could’ve talked to me about this in private but he chose to yell at me in public.” 

“He wasn’t attacking you, he was worried about where his daughter was since you never told him you were leaving her with other people.” She refutes. 

“Okay ms. Sukuna whisperer,” you mutter and laugh. She literally just repeated everything he said. “I’m sure he’s real worried from how he’s letting his fucking girlfriend fight in his place.” 

“I’m my own fuckin’ person, sweetheart.” He chuckles, “no one’s fighting in my place.” 

“Coming to your defense then.” You roll your eyes as you correct yourself. “Something a grown fucking man does not need, yet here we are.” 

“That’s what couples do.” He says bitterly. 

“Oh, I’m sure. Tell me, do couples also blow up every others fucking phones when they don’t get a text within 5 minutes?”

“Or how about that one time you wanted to spend the day with Yomi after she got her ears pierced and you couldn’t because someone else was demanding your attention?”

“You couldn’t even use your phone because of how many calls you were getting back to back!”

Crickets.

“Nothing? Okay! I’ll let you two go then, so you can enjoy being a normal couple.” The look you give Suguru immediately tells him that you’re ready to go and begins to step back, waiting for you to take the lead. 

“Back to your boyfriend's house then, huh?” Sukuna continues to throw jabs, showing you once again that he just likes to fight.

You tried so hard to get away from him, so hard to avoid being on the receiving end of his anger, yet here you are. He doesn’t even let you walk away.

You were fucked since the moment he laid his eyes on you. 

You take one big deep breath, trying to get it together because Suguru had already seen enough. Sukuna and Yorozu have also had the pleasure of watching you lose your temper. The small attempt to calm yourself does nothing to soothe the burn in your eyes, you eventually blink away the tears that have slowly built up within the last 10 minutes and they steadily flow down your cheeks.

Fuck. 

If only they knew this was all from frustration and not fear or remorse. You don’t regret a thing you said. 

“No.” You finally respond to his question. “My mood’s ruined and I don’t feel like staying out and making it everyone else's problem, I’m not like you.”

“So now it’s my fault?” He asks, getting defensive all over again. 

“No.” Your voice slightly raises and you sniffle right after. “It’s mine– I don’t communicate enough, I hide things from you, I have the fucking audacity to defend myself when it comes to you. How dare I try to do that after all I’ve done to you?”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“No, I don’t know, but I felt it.” Your voice slightly trembles. “You take any chance you can get to remind me how much of a piece of shit I am. Sometimes I wonder what life would’ve been like had I never left you and I don’t think it’d be any different from this.”

You finally begin to walk away from the two, with Suguru following along. Sukuna tried to say some other things to you, but it was all muffled out. Maybe it was from some of the wine you drank, or maybe it was just the pent up frustration you’ve been having since he came back into your life. Whatever it was, you didn’t hear a word he said, nor did you care anymore at this point. 

Suguru was the one that picked you up, but you decided to take an uber back home. The last thing you wanted to do was unpack everything that just happened on the car ride back. You were also just plain embarrassed, Suguru never knew about the full story of you hiding Yomi away from her father. 

The birthday party was less than 24 hours away, you needed the time alone to relax and prepare yourself to deal with all the people that were attending it.

—

As expected, the morning was hectic. The planner and her assistants got to your house at 9:00 A.M sharp and got to work decorating the main areas of the house and backyard. You didn’t even know what to expect, you told her to do whatever she pleased, so you’re in for just as much of a surprise as everyone else. 

Your only job for today was getting Sayomi fed and dressed in her frilly little birthday dress. She seemed to love it with the way she kept grabbing at it and smiling, but she hated the matching headband. You didn’t even bother putting it back on after she ripped it off, you ended up tying half of her hair up and adding a little accessory. 

When you finally walk back down the stairs, everything’s pretty much done— the balloon decorations, flower arrangements, snack tables, different food stations. You momentarily interrupt your moms conversation with her to quickly thank her for everything, god knows you could never transform a space the way she could. 

You didn’t even have the time for that.

The guests started rolling in at noon, with each person that arrived, the more you dreaded her Sukuna’s arrival. The good thing about him is that he doesn’t seem to tell his family much about the tumultuous relationship you’ve have the past three months, so you’re sure it’ll be easier to act normal around him with his brothers and Yuki around. 

The entire family shows up around 30 minutes after the party officially started and of course, your child’s father manages to steal all the attention.

He’s tall and built to begin with, imagine all the looks he got when he stepped into your home with a white button up, rolled up at the sleeves and the top buttons undone to show off his chains. On top of that, his grey slacks were perfectly tailored and his hair was neatly styled. You’d think it would all clash, but it somehow worked with his ear piercings and eyebrow slits. 

You don’t look for too long though, he was already getting enough attention from everyone else. You hardly acknowledge him at all, actually. 

The first one to greet you was Yuji. The sweet boy was already bouncing off the walls, ready to go outside and play with the other kids. But he also had manners, making sure to give you and Yomi a hug and kiss on the cheek. Next were Jin, Choso, and Yuki, which you greeted and gave a hug to in that exact same order. 

By the time you reached Yuki, Sukuna was looking at you expectantly, but you ended up turning back around and leading the three to where all the food was.

Peace doesn’t exist though when you have a child, your sweet baby girl proved that to you within those 10 minutes.

“Dada,” Yomi says to you and points at him, as you’re walking into the kitchen. 

“You wanna go to Dada?” You ask, moving some hair out of her face, not bothering to look up at him. 

“Mm.” She lightly nods, looking at Sukuna excitedly. 

“Okay.” You smile before side eyeing the man. “Here.” 

Without protest, he takes her. He’s honestly been waiting for you to hand her over, not completely sure if you’d say yes if he asked. He wasn’t even sure if you were going to allow him to come after last night, but figured it was alright since you never texted him telling him to fuck off. 

Sukuna spent the rest of the day being pulled away by a bunch of relatives and family friends– out of sight and mainly out of your mind. A lot of those who approached him tried to use the birthday girl as an excuse to go up to him, but you knew they just wanted to finally meet the mystery man that fathered her. A part of you wondered how some of those conversations went. The topic about who Sayomi’s father was is a topic that everyone avoided, even just asking about it was a big no-no. So you can imagine it to be a lot of mental gymnastics trying to talk about it, you never even gave people an explanation as to how or why he’s in her life now. 

It’s not until you have to sing Happy Birthday when you have to interact with him. You almost want to laugh when he turns the corner and you see how blissfully unaware your daughter is of what she’s about to have to deal with. 

You were able to set aside your differences for a minute when he also acknowledged how much she was going to hate this. She may not have reacted much on her actual birthday, but now she’s essentially in a room filled with strangers.

“Should one of us hold her while they sing it?” He asks, lightly bouncing her in his arm as if getting her in the best mood would make her fall from grace less steep. 

You shake your head, “that’s never stopped her from having a meltdown.” 

“Right.” 

He cautiously set her down into the high chair, where there’s a purple princess cake in front of her that’s waiting to be lit. She’s fine at first, her attention’s on the cake, not the crowd in front of her. 

It’s after only a few seconds of singing where she slowly drops her happy demeanor, her face turns into one you’d make if you were all alone in a room and something randomly moves.

Complete terror of the unknown. 

The worst is when she looks at you or her dad, she thinks crying is going to get her out of this situation so her bottom lip starts to quiver the longer you two go without getting her the hell out of there. 

Too bad Sukuna was determined to keep her in that goddamn chair, so he takes a little frosting off the top of the cake and quickly swipes it over her lips. 

Usually she’d be offended by something like that happening, but her mood quickly turns around when stops pouting and actually tries it. She eventually starts kicking her feet around and pointing at the dessert, asking for more. 

Singing happy birthday was a success, it ended with Yomi clapping her hands along with everyone else while chewing on her newest favorite food.

You gave her all the time in the world to eat however much of it she wanted, you were taking pictures after and needed her to look as happy as possible. 

And it all went fine, at least up until the very end. You were so worried about Sayomi this entire time that you never considered what were some of the things that could’ve gotten on your nerves today, aside from looking at Sukuna’s face.

“Okay, now let’s get a picture with both mom and dad!” Your dad’s sister, who’s never once in her life been able to read a room, exclaims. 

You try to look at anywhere else but Sukuna’s direction after hearing that, it was so painfully obvious to him, only because he’s the only one that knew about what went down last night.

After everything, he still wanted to take a photo together as a family, even though he’s starting to accept that the three of you will probably never truly be one, especially after what happened last night.

But still, he puts his pride aside.

“C’mere.” He murmurs, holding his arm out for you. 

You obviously go up to him, not wanting to give away any signs that there were issues between you two, allowing him to pull you into his side and throw his free arm around you. 

“Hi mama!” Your daughter flashes you a dopey grin– doesn’t matter if she hasn’t seen you in 2 minutes or 2 hours, she’s been greeting you each time she sees you and it makes your heart melt.

She makes the picture taking a little better, she’s more giddy than usual because of the sugar content that was in her cake— she’s probably in outerspace right now. Hopefully her energy crash isn’t that bad at bedtime, but it’s her birthday. She’ll do it if she wants to. 

Her pathetic father had some hopes that you’d rest your hand on his chest or something for the photo— just seems kind of natural to do so, but you take your daughter's hand instead. 

At least it made a cute photo. Sayomi will look back and never know just how cold and distant you felt in his arms at that moment.

—

The last people to leave your house are your parents. They love staying over and seeing Sayomi, but miss the peace and quiet of their own home, so they decided tonight's the night they finally go back home. 

Is a two day stay a lot? 

For them it is.

It’s not something to take personally, if you absolutely needed them, they’d be here for you in a heartbeat. 

It’s not until you walk into the cluttered kitchen and realized you’re not alone. You find Sukuna standing over the kitchen island, quietly trying to open a bottle of wine.

“Didn’t know you were still here.” You mutter, taking his attention off the stubborn cork. 

“Probably because you spent the whole day ignoring me.” He says while finally opening the damn thing. The room’s quiet as he pours you a glass and slides it over to you. “Can’t blame you though.” 

“You sure? You don’t seem to mind blaming me for everything else.” You say, taking a seat in front of him and pulling the wine glass closer to you. You’re not even taking jabs at him anymore, you genuinely meant it, which makes him feel worse.

He doesn’t respond to that out of guilt and leans forward on the counter. He doesn’t even know where to start right now, he was an asshole to everyone last night. But if he were to be completely honest, he doesn’t care much about how he made Suguru and Yorozu feel last night. He was out for blood the moment he saw you stepping out of the restaurant, he would’ve snapped on anyone. 

And since he’s being honest with himself right now, he wanted to hurt you. Right now he’s just trying to figure out if last night's anger was how he truly felt or if that was just his final straw to an already bad day. 

He didn’t even want to go out last, his girlfriend just wouldn’t shut the fuck up about it. He was tired and wanted to rest up since he had planned on being here the entire day. Lately, Yorozu’s been taking his “no’s” as suggestions and it’s so much easier just giving in sometimes. 

He glances at you and you’re already looking at him, raising your brows at him. He knows it’s your nonverbal way of saying “fucking get on with it”. 

“After missing all that time with Yomi…” He begins to explain himself, carefully choosing his words because he wants you to understand. Right now he’d rather you understand why he reacted that way he did, instead of forgiving him. “Not knowing what’s going on with her triggers the fuck out of me. I don’t know.. I– when I was getting ready to go out and on my way to the restaurant, I had this idea that you two were at home together and realizing I was wrong made me lose it. I trust your parents, but if you told me you were going out, I would’ve cancelled my plans and hung out with her.”

“Are you saying you got mad because you got fomo?” 

He lightly chuckles at the word choice. “It sounds so stupid when you break it down in your own words, but yeah, that’s kinda what happened.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid.” You assure him, it’s probably hard enough having to explain himself after the scene he caused. “I would’ve asked, but you usually have date nights with Yorozu on Fridays, so I never thought to ask.” 

“I’d never choose a date night over spending time with Sayomi.” His voice drops an octave as says those words in all seriousness. “I’m also really sorry for the way she tried to get into our business like that.”

“Can’t blame her, you made it her business the moment you decided you were going to call me out in front of her. Same with Suguru.” 

Fair enough.

“Still shouldn’t have let her talk to you like that.”

“Did you even try to say something to her after I left?” You murmur, twisting the glass around by its stem. “Or does she think she can start arguing with me whenever we fight, because that’s what couples do?”

“We fought over that after you left.” He reveals, his expression grew a little more stressed as he continued. “I told her if she ever pulls some shit like that again, it’s over.” 

You were aware of how heated their arguments could get, so when he tells you they’re bad, you don’t take it lightly. You fully believe him when he says they stayed up until 1:00 am fighting over the fact that he never wanted her to speak to you like that again and how she constantly countered it by saying she was just defending him.

It barely got resolved, she just barely stopped arguing with him when he threatened to break up with her. 

He was so fed up at the end that he even called her an uber home, all he wanted at that point was to be alone— his head hurt, voice all raspy from yelling too. Yet he stayed up for another hour or two just staring at the ceiling and listening to nothing but the faint breeze outside, wondering what the fuck was he even doing with his life.

You hum in response, you’re not sure if his threat is overkill or not, but it makes you feel slightly better. Enough to be okay with her meeting your daughter after a year? Nope. 

“Well thanks, I guess.” You say nonetheless. 

“Yeah…” He takes a deep breath. “I really am sorry. I can apologize to your date too if you want.” 

You almost laugh at the suggestion, he sounds so remorseful, it’s not very fitting of him. “No need— he ended things with me.”

His jaw might as well be on the floor from how shocked he is to hear that. “Are you fuckin’ serious?”

“Mhm.” You say, letting how bad he fucked up sink in for him.

“Fuck.” He puts his head down and lets out a low curse. “I’m so sorry… what did he say?”

“He texted me when I got home, saying something along the lines of how my situation was a lot to handle, and that I deserved someone that didn’t feel that way.” You finish the rest of the wine in the glass after saying that. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, genuinely concerned. Heavy lids, brows slightly furrowed, he looks guilty as hell.

“Honestly… yeah. We only dated for three months, I only saw him a couple times a month too. I feel like he would’ve seen something else anyways and backed out.” You’d obviously like for Sukuna to feel bad about it for a while, but it’s the truth. You and Suguru wouldn’t have worked out to begin with. When you two first started talking, he thought that Yomi’s dad was out of the picture— a lot has changed since then. 

Then you bring in one of Sukuna’s record breaking meltdowns, you understand the guy.

Which also leads you to another thing. 

“Listen… you’re always going to have some sort of resentment towards me and I understand that.” You say, breaking the silence. “But I don’t want to spend the next seventeen years having you throw that in my face whenever I do something wrong. I think it’s time that we start thinking about splitting custody with her.”

You obviously haven’t had enough time to think about it, but it’d be easy, especially with how she has her own room at his house now. It’s not like he was bad at taking care of her anyways. If you stop breastfeeding her now, she could probably spend her weekends with him and be perfectly fine.

“What? No, I don’t want that.” He immediately rejects the suggestion, slightly hurt over it. “I don’t want to take her away from you, I’d rather just visit when I can.” 

“And what if I don’t want that?” You argue back. “The last thing I want is for you to teach her that it’s okay to treat me like that. I’ll admit that what I did was a thousand times worse, but that doesn’t mean you can treat me like a punching bag whenever you get triggered over something.”

“I’ve never done any of that in front of her!” He tries to reason with you, but deep down he knows it’s not enough.  

“There’s always the possibility that you will. Look, I’m trying to make it easier on all of us. If me not being around you helps you heal from all of this, then I’m glad to do it.” You continue to explain, but it just falls on deaf ears. 

Yeah, you two have your bad moments, but when it’s good, it’s really good. You two are able to laugh together, easily make decisions over Yomi together. He enjoys being with you— the both of you. 

“You make it seem like I get pissed at the sight or thought of you, I don’t! Last night was just a bad day, I didn’t even want to go out in the first place–” 

You cut him off from going on a rant. “I obviously don’t want you to have bad days, but that’s not my problem, you can’t just use that as fuel to lose your shit on me.”

“I know that.” He murmurs and sighs. 

“And I know that you feel bad and mean it when you apologize, but you need to work on yourself— whether it’s therapy or making some other life change. I can’t keep listening to you apologizing.” 

Therapy? 

You see the weary look he gives you for bringing that up, but he can’t even deny that it’s probably a good option at this point. He already had his own problems to begin with, having a child just makes it all worse. It doesn’t matter how good he is to Sayomi either, she’ll grow up to see how mad he gets when things don’t go his way, you don’t want her learning from that.

“So if I get therapy, you’ll…” He waits for you to finish the sentence. 

“Do nothing. We can keep doing what we're doing. It works, I just can’t have you treating me the way you did last night.” You lean back in the seat and cross your arms. 

He apprehensively looks at you for a bit, not sure if you’re telling the truth. You’re oddly calm for someone that just threatened to remove herself from his life if he didn’t get help.

He’d think you’d be a little bit more emotional about this, but then remembers you’re mentally and emotionally capable of leaving someone without a word. 

“I did all my crying last night.” You say, he just realized he’d muttered that last sentence to himself. 

“M’sorry about that too.” He easily apologizes again. “About all of it, I feel like a fuckin’ asshole.”

You look down at the empty wine glass, which he quickly fills up for you as a part of his final apology, and can’t help but feel guilty at how much remorse he’s showing right now.  

What are you so afraid of? 

It’s not like I’d hide her away from you.

At least now.

But he doesn’t know that, hiding her from him is all that he knows. If only you could be a little more selfless, allow him to make you feel the same way you made him feel at one point. 

An eye for an eye. 

You doubt it’d stop there, there’d be no truce— you’d destroy each other completely.

“Try not to be so hard on yourself.” You take another sip of the freshly filled glass, it makes looking him in the eye a little easier. “I made you this way.”

You absolutely fucking did, he refrains from saying and instead just looks at you back. He’s recently come to realize that this is something you struggle with too, you don’t say it but he sees it whenever he’s having a good time with Yomi. You look happy one minute, then the next you wipe the smile off your face. It’s almost as if you don’t allow yourself to have that experience with them, like you don’t deserve it. 

“We just need to find a way to move on from it.” You say, wrapping up the last of the words you had for him. 

“You’re right.” He’s been holding his breath enough that it’s shaky when he finally exhales. “I’ll uh– I’ll reach out to someone on Monday.”

“Okay.” It comes out so light, it’s almost a whisper. It’s a hard conversation to have, you weren’t expecting him to make it so easy. “Can I ask you something?”

Hearing the answer would probably make you feel worse, but it’s the one thing you’ve always wanted to ask him. 

“Does it have something to do with when we were together?”

“Yeah.” 

“It’s better if you don’t ask, you’re hard enough on yourself as is.” He says, giving you back your own advice. You already know you caused enough pain by jumping to your own conclusions about him, hearing the truth from him was just unnecessary at this point. “How were you supposed to know how I felt about you when I never told you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Exactly.”

The only times he's texted you back then were to see when you’d be free for him, you looked like a booty call on paper. It was stupid of him to think you’d stick around just because he was nice to you. He should’ve taken you out more, called you when he had free time, let you know he missed you whenever you weren’t around. 

It’s not that he was scared, he was just stupid. He genuinely thought you’d just feel it, but you clearly don’t trust your gut. He’ll always wish he told you he loved you, he’d probably be getting ready to go to bed with you right now if he said it all that time ago. 

He looks at his phone to check the time and realizes he’s overstayed his welcome. Not that he’s complaining, you two got somewhere from it. A mutual understanding almost. Maybe he’ll finally be able to have his first decent night of sleep since he saw you at the park that day.

But who is he kidding? 

Mutual understandings don’t mean shit to a man that is unfortunately in love. 

“Do you wanna sleep in the guest bedroom that’s here downstairs?” You suddenly offer after seeing him check the time. He didn’t live far, but it’d probably be nice if he skipped the driving for tonight. 

“You don’t mind?” He asks, skimming through his missed texts. 

“No. I’m sure Yomi would like seeing you in the morning too.”

He chuckles and puts his phone away. “I’d hope so.” 

He tried so hard to hate you, but the love he’s always had for you has sadly grown since being back in your life again. 

And no, you don’t try to deliberately hurt the people you love, like how he did last night. But like what you said, you made him this way, and now he’s stuck having to fix that part of himself. 

What’s worse is he’s happy to do it if that means he gets to stay around you, because you will never be too much for him to handle. He chose the baby in a heartbeat, if only you knew he’d choose you just as fast too.

His phone buzzes again once he’s finally comfortable in the guest bedroom you offered him. For once, he’s not annoyed when he checks it. 

[7:05 p.m] Yor: How did the birthday party go? 

[8:45 p.m] Yor: Did she give you a hard time over what happened last night?

[8:50 p.m] Sukuna: No

[8:55 p.m] Yor: That’s good. Can I come over? I wanted to talk about yesterday.

[8:58 p.m] Sukuna: I wanna be alone rn. ill talk to you tomorrow

notes:

i just wanted to leave this here and the direct quote below for anyone that’s a little confused/needs clarification on what sukuna got mad about during this chapter. he went almost a full year of not knowing he had a child, he has trauma from that. he’s fine with reader going out and doing whatever, he just wants to know where the baby is and who she left the baby with ‼️

“After missing all that time with Yomi…Not knowing what’s going on with her triggers the fuck out of me. I don’t know.. I– when I was getting ready to go out and on my way to the restaurant, I had this idea that you two were at home together and realizing I was wrong made me lose it.“

and also, read the warnings!!! the angst and toxic relationship warnings are there for a reason. i understand that it’s not for everyone, but don’t make that my issue by coming up in my comments and announcing your departure 😭

taglist is closed!

All rights reserved © 2025 yenayaps. Do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform.

Nine Lives

Simon Riley posts an ad for a stray cat he does not want, and you answer.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x F!reader

Tags: fluff, short n’sweet, eventual romance/smut

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4 | ao3 | mlist ✎ᝰ.ᐟ

Friday comes as planned, Simon’s week consumed by anticipation of seeing his girl and his cat.

But Churro doesn’t seem to have the same plans, doesn’t come to see her self-proclaimed father.

She doesn’t show, no aggravating meowing or grating scratching on his porch. All he’s met with is silence, a noise grown far too unfamiliar, leaves something in his core unsettled in its absence.

You show up on his doorstep anyway, don’t seem to realize Churro hasn’t made an appearance, smiling wide at him when he opens the door.

At least now he knows you’ll still smile so sweetly at him even if he doesn’t have a furry cat in his arms.

“Hi!”

“Hi, bird. Is Churro at home?”

Your brows pinch, confusion painting your expression, “No, I thought she was visiting you? Came to pick her up like always.”

“She’s not here,” He explains, “Didn’t show up earlier, that’s why I didn’t text you yet.”

The corner of your lips droop, “Well, she wasn’t at home. I figured she was with you even if I didn’t get a text.”

You fidget from heel to heel when he shakes his head in disagreement, shifting your eyes swiftly as worry etches into your irises, wringing your fingers together.

“I’m sure she’ll be here soon,” He reassures, attempting to dry the flood of emotions that are surely surfacing in your lungs before they burst out of control, ushering you in with a hand on your back, “We’ll lay out her favorite food, yeah? She came real quick that first time remember? Wait an hour tops before we start worrying too much, okay?”

You nod quietly, following his lead to his couch, but your face stays stiff, each curve contorted anxiously. Doesn’t smooth the entire time the two of you wait, reminiscent of the first time you met him, except this time you’re nerves aren’t alerting you to run from him, flee from the danger of a man he appears to be. Instead, you’re looking to him for comfort, darting your wide eyes to his every time he starts to speak like you’re clinging to every word in an attempt to distract you from the fact that Churro isn’t in either of your laps.

By the time forty-five minutes passes he’s sure you ripped the skin around your fingernails tender and bloody, burnt a hole in your shoe from the speed you're bouncing it. Maybe before he knew you, before he knew Churro, he would’ve thought you were being dramatic, caring for a bloody cat entirely too much, but you’ve grown on him. Maybe a little too much because the sight of you nervous, anxious, scared, upsets him, doesn’t want to spend another second watching you peel yourself apart.

Maybe he’s a little upset at Churro— don’t you know you’re worrying your mom, his girl, too much, pest?

It’s enough to make him stand, waiting does nothing to ease your nerves, so he prepares a search for a cat he used to cast away, a cat he used to wish got lost on the trail to his house. The two of you should’ve expected it to happen one of these days, it wasn’t necessarily a short distance between your homes, but Churro had seemed smarter than that, memorized her trek through town to find Simon.

You start on foot, separating in two to cover more ground, walking through Simon’s neighborhood calling for her at the top of your lungs. The search lasts for an hour, scavenging through every nook, bush, tree, and alleyway the two of you can find to no avail. Simon even goes to his neighbors, asks if they’ve seen the fawn-colored cat. Maybe the cat lady ended up taking her in by mistake, but they all deny, haven’t seen her.

When you don’t find her, your search widens, desperately exploring multiple blocks around his neighborhood until the sun starts to set, desperately searching with the flashlight from your phone in the dark. It takes some convincing and negotiation on his end to get you to return to his porch without Churro in your arms, argue that you won’t be able to sleep unless you know she’s safe. Still, he manages to wrangle you back to his house, promising that the two of you will search for her tomorrow, that she’ll make her way to his home in the night like she always does.

You agree begrudgingly, but when he finally gets you to his front door and looks down at you, your eyes are downcast, your bottom lip wobbling as you shift your eyes to his. You’re dewy-eyed and beady, fists balled at your side in an attempt to stop the inevitable dam from cracking.

It doesn’t work, of course, it doesn’t, not when the look in his eyes is sincere, slams the finishing wedge in your control with one look.

“Sweet girl.”

His voice is softer than he’s ever used before, more tender than he even realized he could use, foreign to his own gruff ears, but it doesn’t help your restraint from breaking on the spot. He reaches out, placing his hand on the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair before pressing you into his chest, snug under his chin.

The embrace punches the breath straight out of your lungs, inhaling a shattered wheeze before a sob wrecks from your core. Fisting the fabric of his shirt in your palms as you hiccup over your breaths and tears, staining his shirt wet.

The constricting in his chest is unfamiliar, burns strangely, painful, and bitter at the mere sounds you make, at the way you cling to him like he can absolve you of your pain, like you need to feel his touch to mend your weary heart. It congeals something protective in the back of his mind, large palms finding the backs of your thighs to hoist you in his arms. You don’t even pull away, just band your arms over his shoulders like it’s where you need to be.

He carries you to his kitchen, grabbing a water before maneuvering you to his bedroom because he’s not going to send you home crying and distressed when he can keep his girl comforted in his arms. You fall onto his bed willingly, sitting on the edge of the mattress as you watch him rummage through his drawers. He presents a pair of shorts, to which you nod teary-eyed, let him peel your jeans off, and replace them with his own clothing.

He climbs into bed with you, guides you under the sheets with him, and into his arms. Pulls you flush against his chest once again, smoothing his touch down your back and through your hair in his best attempt to soothe your nerves.

“Don’t worry,” He murmurs when you shift to look into his eyes, “Won’t do us any good looking for her when you’re all teary-eyed will it?”

You huff a laugh, not entirely amused as it should be, only making more tears well in your eyes, but he takes it, pressing a kiss against the crown of your forehead.

“We’ll look for her first thing tomorrow morning, yeah? Our pretty lady will come home to us.”

@lighthousebats @cococococ @sai-int @tessakate @starboykel @imrandomstuffsblog @your-internet-tenshi @glossy01 @orangegreensun @uriahs-barn @ye-olde-trash-panda @akkahelenaa @h0lydrag0ns @pukbadger @dawnnightshade666 @lizziesfirstwife @little-b33 @topaz125 @v1x3n @hadassery @afanofbeans @definitely-not-sammie

The Mask I Live With - pt. 17

The happy ending :)

I honestly had been going back and forth on this all week about the next post, and honestly I knew I had to give us all the happy ending we were looking for.

Not fully proofread!

Roommate|Reader x Simon Ghost Riley

The months that followed settled into a rhythm that felt almost suspiciously good. There were still sore mornings where your leg ached like hell, especially after nights tangled with Simon, neither of you knowing when to quit. But you learned to read your limits, and he learned to hover close enough without smothering you.

Light duty turned into moderate duty... and then moderate duty turned into cautious, evaluated runs at the flight simulators. Before long, real missions crept back into your life. 

The first time you stepped onto the tarmac again, helmet tucked under your arm, and a helo roaring in front of you, your hands shook—not from fear. 

From need.

You belonged here.

There were days you thought maybe you had lost that piece of yourself. That maybe you'd never sit inside the cockpit again without reliving the moment you and your Sergeant crashed. But standing there, wind whipping against your fatigues, it clicked back into place like it had never happened at all.

And Simon? 

He was waiting at the edge of the hangar when you returned the first day, arms crossed, eyes hidden behind his balaclava. You could practically feel the tension bleeding off him like heat waves. The second your boots hit the ground, he was at your side, hand hovering on your lower back, before his lips brushed your temple in a rare moment of public affection.

Big softie

You laughed. "I didn't crash this time."

"Wasn't takin' any bets." He grunted.

You didn't tell him about the orders until a few days later. Sitting together at the kitchen table, you slid the paperwork across to him. He blinked down, scanning it quickly before his brow furrowed.

"Permanent?" He asked, voice low like he almost didn’t believe it.

You leaned forward, propping your chin on your hand with a stupid grin on your face. "Talked to my commander. Pulled some strings. Used the crash. Used the injury. Hell, I used everything I could think of." You shrugged. "I get to stay here now. No more transfers. No more bouncing around."

He lifted his head slowly, expression unreadable, but his hand reached across the table and settled heavily over yours.

"Y'did tha'... for me?"

You squeezed his fingers, smiling so wide his heart skipped several beats. "For us..." A rare grin formed on his lips before you giggled. "And for Danny, Gaz, Soap, and Price...... For all of it."

He playfully rolled his eyes at the last part, but was happy none-the-less. 

Speaking of Danny. . . . 

His recovery had been slower. His injuries still needing time to heal. But it wouldn be no time before he could officially fly again per the doctors. In the meantime, he was back into desk duty, barking orders and cracking jokes from the safety of an office chair—which he hated but tolerated for now.

******************************************************

The Shack was alive tonight. Even though you had just gotten back from a small mission, you were surprisingly upbeat and not tired. So you messaged everyone, asking to come to the usual spot for some drinks. 

You tucked yourself between Simon and Danny at the table near the back, beers scattered across the wood, the guys already half into a shouting match over who would win an arm-wrestling contest between Johnny and Price.

"You're all dreaming." Danny snorted, shaking his head. "Price would mop the fucking floor with him."

Johnny threw his hands up. "Oi! I've got technique!"

"You got bird bones." Gaz countered, grinning wide. "Price sneezes and you go flying, mate."

You laughed, the sound bubbling out before you could stop it. Simon, sitting so close his thigh brushed yours, leaned in just slightly, voice low against your ear.

"Missed hearin' tha'."

Your chest warmed at the simple truth in his tone. The mission itself had you flying somewhere no cell service for a week, so Simon wasn't lying when he said it. You briefly rested your hand against his leg under the table, a small, quiet anchor between you.

Price lifted his glass toward you then. "So, Lieutenant..." He drawled causing both of you to look at him. "You're really stuck with us for good now, huh?"

Before you could answer, Johnny cut in, smiling like an absolute devil. 

"Please. She's just staying for our dear old Ghost here." He said, bumping Simon’s shoulder. "Can’t bear to be away from him."

The table erupted into laughter, even Simon letting out a rare low chuckle. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head, but you raised your glass anyway.

"For all of you." You smiled. "You're stuck with me now, like it or not. You're family."

That silenced them for a second. Not heavy or awkward... just... real.

Johnny grinned even wider, raising his own beer to clink against yours. "Cheers to that, lass."

"Cheers." Everyone echoed, glasses clinking together.

******************************************************

Five years later

The helo sputtered a little as you cut the engines, the rotors spinning down with a high, whining sound that faded into blessed silence. The poor bird was in immediate need of maintenance, but that was a job for another day, and another version of you who wasn’t running on fumes. 

You exhaled, muscles tight from the long string of flights, and leaned back in your seat. The helmet that had been digging into your forehead was quickly discarded, resting now on your knee. Next to you, Danny gave a tired chuckled, rubbing a hand through his hair.

"Remind me why we thought this was a good idea again?" He joked, voice hoarse from yelling over the comms.

You giggled, voice just as wrecked. "Cause we're idiots."

He snorted and pushed himself up, joints popping loudly. "And here I thought retirement sounded boring."

You smiled as you leaned forward, fingertips brushing the worn metal of the dash one more time before standing. But the ache in your bones wasn’t just physical. It was the weight of time but even through it all, you were still here... still flying... still chasing the sky.

Danny hopped out of the helo first, boots thudding against the concrete. You followed, stretching your sore leg carefully as you climbed down, wincing a little at the familiar pull. Sometimes it still ached... sometimes it still whispered those awful, distant memories you didn’t talk much about anymore.

The hangar loomed ahead, the evening light spilling across it in brilliant golds and oranges. You barely took a full couple of steps before you saw him.

Simon.

Casually leaning against a humvee parked near the hangar doors, his frame relaxed but unmistakably alert, civilian clothes hanging loose over his broad, muscled frame. The familiar black surgical mask covered his mouth, along with dark shades hiding his eyes.

But that wasn’t what had your breath catching hard in your chest (like it did every single time). It wasn’t what had your feet picking up speed without thought. Tucked securely in his arms, head resting against his chest, was a little girl.

Your daughter.

Three years old. A little ball of fire and sweetness, with wild curls that refused to be tamed and big brown eyes that somehow managed to look exactly like both of you. She was fast asleep against him, one tiny hand fisting the fabric of his T-shirt like a lifeline, and the other clutching her battered old stuffed bear that went everywhere with her.

The world around you—the ache, the exhaustion, the buzz of everything—blurred into nothing.

Simon tilted his head slightly when he saw you, that silent, familiar greeting that you could read in your bones after all these years.

Missed you. Proud of you. Come home.

Danny followed your gaze and let out a low whistle, clapping a hand on your back. "Look at that. Your welcome party showed up."

You laughed under your breath, quickly blinking away the sudden burn in your eyes. You wiped your gloves on your pants, shaking off the exhaustion and picking up your pace despite the tired pull in your leg.

You barely registered it, already running on something deeper; something that hurt in a sweeter way.

When you reached them, Simon straightened, peeling his mask down with one hand just enough to press a kiss to the top of your daughter's head before he reached for your without hesitation, his thumb brushing the inside of your wrist.

"Hey sweetheart." He quietly said, voice low and soft in a way he reserved for the only two people in this world. "Missed you."

You whispered back. "Missed you more." 

You reached out, smoothing a stray curl away from your daughter's forehead. She blinked up at you sleepily, heavy-lidded and disoriented, but the second she recognized you, a slow, shy smile bloomed across her face.

"Mama." She mumbled, little hands stretching toward you instinctively.

Your heart shattered into a thousand pieces in the best way possible.

Simon shifted, carefully transferring her into your arms. You cradled her close, small body pressing against yours, and the presence of her—solid, warm, yours—banished the mission behind you. 

You kissed her soft cheek, taking her in—sunshine, soap, and the faint lingering trace of Simon’s cologne.

He rubbed the back of his neck, mouth tugging up in a sheepish, boyish smile. "Figured... we could meet ya. Thought she'd like to see her mum be a badass." He muttered, almost embarrassed.

Danny chuckled behind you, slinging his gear bag down with a heavy thud. "Hell of a welcome wagon, mate. Setting the bar high."

You laughed, the sound bubbling up unfiltered, before you rested your forehead against Simon’s for half a second. Just long enough to feel him soak you in. Long enough to remind him you were real.

"Always knew you were trouble." You softly teased.

He smirked, the faintest crinkle hidden at the corners of his eyes behind his shades... but even though you couldn't see them, you just knew.

"You're stuck with me forever, love." He replied, before leaning down and giving you a sweet, lingering peck on the lips.

The kind of kiss that said: I’d wait a thousand lifetimes for you.

You cradled your daughter closer, your free hand gently grabbing his shirt, anchoring yourself to him like you had all those years ago without even realizing it when you were just........ roommates.

Well... that's it for my little story about roommate reader lol! I hope you all enjoyed this as much as I wrote it! As always, please like, comment, repost, and give me feedback!

If you're new here and interested in seeing my other stories, please check out my masterlist link below!!!

The next story I will be finishing is "Before The Ghost"!

Love you all!!!!

-Daydreamer 🩵

Pt. 1; Pt. 2; Pt. 3; Pt. 4; Pt. 5; Pt. 6; Pt. 7; Pt. 8; Pt. 9; Pt. 10; Pt. 11 (Simon POV); Pt. 12; Pt. 13; Pt. 14; Pt. 15; Pt. 16

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