Still learning what chaos kills
But whoever cares,
nobody cares like you do
Why we'd abandon time,
just shut the door
Why we'd come to the wall,
claim less is more
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Keni
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let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
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art blog(derogatory)

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Alisa U Zemlji Chuda

if i look back, i am lost

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@demonnyra
Still learning what chaos kills
But whoever cares,
nobody cares like you do
Why we'd abandon time,
just shut the door
Why we'd come to the wall,
claim less is more

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only talking to sukuna's stomach mouth when he pisses you off
Sukuna’s developed an irritating habit. Whenever he’s fed up with you, or whenever he doesn’t want to entertain one of your questions, he’ll simply stay quiet and gesture towards his stomach. It’s kind of like saying ‘talk to the hand’. But in his case, it’s ‘talk to the stomach mouth’.
Then his stomach mouth will shoot you this wide, smug grin, like it’s more than happy to converse with you. And you’ll just toss up your hands and groan, annoyed that your husband won’t even bother to speak with you face to face.
But recently you've taken Sukuna up on his offer, turning the tables to give him the silent treatment while still chatting away with his stomach. Because Sukuna underestimated just how much that mouth of his likes to rile someone up. Even if it’s the rest of his body.
Now, Sukuna’s lounging on the bed, limbs draped carelessly along the mattress. He’s trying to feign indifference. Trying to pretend he’s unphased by the fact that you haven’t spoken to him in four whole days.
But you know better. You see the slight clench in his jaw, the scowl that deepens on his face each time he steals a look your way. He watches as you sit by the window, gazing at the scenery outside.
When the silence stretches on longer than he can bear, Sukuna sets his pride aside to clear his throat and ask, “Are you still doing this?”
You don’t even spare him a glance, continuing to look out the window. “Middle Mouth,” you say, “will you please inform the rest of Sukuna that I have no idea what he’s talking about?”
Sukuna scoffs in disbelief, but that mouth of his flashes its teeth and singsongs, “Sukunaaaa. She doesn’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I heard you,” Sukuna huffs, speaking to you instead of his stomach.
He hates this whole situation. Hates that you're not speaking with him. Hates that you’ve given his stomach mouth a nickname. And he hates that the mouth is entertaining it at all.
His jaw clenches once more, and he sighs before saying, “You’re ignoring me.”
He’s not wrong. For almost a week, you’ve been avoiding your husband, refusing to interact or even look at any part of him other than his stomach maw. But despite all of his sulking and sour moods, you act as if nothing is amiss.
“Middle Mouth, will you please inform the rest of Sukuna that I am not ignoring him. You and I just had a lovely conversation, didn’t we?”
“Sukunaaaa,” the mouth singsongs again. “She isn’t ignoring you…well, me.” That grin returns, and you can’t help but let out a quiet laugh. Why didn’t you start speaking with your husband’s stomach mouth sooner? He really is entertaining.
“Stop that. Don’t humor her,” Sukuna scolds.
“Middle Mouth, you can converse with me as you please.”
“I intend to,” his maw replies.
Sukuna’s eyes narrow, but he’s not sure whether to direct his glare at you or his abdomen. “How long do you intend to keep up these antics?”
You brush an imaginary piece of lint from your clothes and say, "Middle Mouth, please inform the rest of Sukuna that I’m still waiting on a proper apology from him."
“I’m warning you, do not–”
“Sukunaaaa. She is waiting for a proper apology from you.”
Sukuna stares murderously down at his lower half. He’s finally met his match. The only ‘enemy’ that he can’t silence by force. Himself.
And secretly, you think that he slightly enjoys that you’re speaking with his stomach mouth. It shows him that despite this silent treatment, you still desire some form of communication with him.
So he’ll put up with the teasing, the inside jokes, and the fact that his wife is being stolen by his own body.
You decide to press your luck a little bit further, and say something you know will send your husband over the edge. “Middle Mouth–”
“Not again,” Sukuna groans, tossing his head back.
“Do you remember what I told you? What we talked about last night?”
“What?!?" Sukuna demands, sitting up abruptly and sending the covers around him flying.
“Oh, I remember,” his maw says, immediately grinning and playing into it.
“Well, I was thinking about it and–”
“Why are you speaking with my wife at night?”
“Our wife. And what we discuss during late hours does not concern you.”
“Anyways, as I was telling you, Middle Mouth, before I was rudely interrupted–”
“No. This ends now."
In seconds, Sukuna’s beside you, all 7 feet of him towering over you intimidatingly. He rubs a hand across his jaw, like he has to physically force the words out of his mouth. “I.. apologize for not answering when you asked me which of my cocks I urinate from.”
“…”
“The answer is both of them.”
Immediately, your mood lifts. You turn away from the window, smiling and facing your husband like nothing was ever wrong. “Apology accepted.” And then to his stomach mouth, “We’ll continue our conversation later.”
a/n: idk why the mouth is referring to him in third person...js to be annoying ig lol
ghostface x itafushi
save me ghoach doomed yaoi ... save me....
Yuji rocking them lighting mcqueen

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stsg
good morning to horror fans, fat bitches, people with psychosis, they/thems, people who can’t drive, trans women, witches, and single dads. the rest of you... you’re on your own
Feline hybrid AU
ALL THE SINGLE LADIES ~ K.CS
After being cheated on by your ex-husband, Sukuna, you were left as a single mom. Eleven years later, you finally chose to return to the club, thinking that you would be too old for the normal dating pool. But don't worry! Newly graduated, guitarist Choso doesn't discriminate <3
contains: younger!guitarist!choso x older!singlemom!fem!reader, choso is YEARNING, sukuna angst as your ex-husband with mentions of abuse, slow slow slow burn, fluff, suguru and satoru as your best friends, you could get cuteness aggression from your daughter, mentions of alcohol (clubs/bars), we sit on his face, sucking him off, cowgirl position, sucking on breasts, overall choso is just a stupid guy in love
11.8k words (IM SORRY I GOT CARRIED AWAY OKAY)
Sukuna always broke stuff when he was angry.
You tried to stay calm. For the sake of your unborn child, the doctor had told you that extra stress wouldn't be good for your body. You had tried, you really did. But it was too late before you could already feel the tears that were streaming down your face. Too late to stop them.
"Do you think tears will work on me, bitch?" Sukuna sneered, fist still dripping with blood from where he had punched the cot your mother had bought for you on your baby shower. The wood was splintered now, the small planets that hung above the frame askew. The strings twisted around each other. You spotted the small sphere that was supposed to represent Venus clatter to the ground.
"Why are you doing this, Kuna?" You couldn't even try to stop him from breaking the stuff in the nursery, the third trimester weighing down on your body. You were praying that he didn't go for the baby toys- you had collected those from your childhood, looking forward to giving them to your baby girl soon.
"Oh, so now you're playing the fool?" He scoffed, his anger rising. "Don't act like you don't know what you did!" No, no, you could see his fist curling up again. The cot would already require money to replace, money you didn't have by yourself. You knew it would have to come out of your pocket- trying to stop Sukuna from taking his suitcase and rolling out, he had decided that before leaving, he would destroy the pastel pink room you had built together.
"I really don't know," you sobbed, leaning against the wall. Was it the pregnancy that was ruining your memory? Had you done something wrong? You racked your brain to try and figure out anything, even the simplest, simplest thing that could have made your light-switch of a husband mad, but you couldn't remember a single thing. In fact, Sukuna was the one who had cheated on you just a few days ago. "You're the one who decided to sleep with another woman, and I didn't even say anything, Kuna-"
"That's irrelevant right now!" he spat, kicking at the bottom legs of the cot that dared to still remain intact. "This is your fault. All of this is your fault."
"I didn't do anything!" You pleaded with him, taking shaky steps and trying to hold onto his arm, trying to show him how much this was hurting you.
"I always knew you were a lying whore," he roared at you, his voice reaching its crescendo. He raised his hand again, and you closed your eyes tightly, not wanting to see what else he would break. "Destroying this room isn't even enough of a lesson for you. I ought to teach you some manners before I leave."
Your eyes were closed, so you didn't see the hand coming for your face instead.
So, in a way, you could probably thank him. When you stumbled your way to your mother's house, and she caught sight of your red left cheek, she didn't say a single word. She didn't say the "I told you so" she wanted to. She hadn't told you that she'd warned you when you had begged for her approval to marry him. She hadn't told you that you should have left him the first time he had broken a vase five months ago.
She'd hugged you while you cried and cried your heart out, placing your hands on your stomach. As much as you hated Sukuna, you wish he had stayed.
Because as much as you were thankful he was gone, you knew your baby girl wouldn't have the most important figure of her life.
A father.
Yue was everything you could have dreamed of. She was the sweetest, most beautiful baby you had ever laid your eyes on. When you had picked her up, your mom was squeezing your hand after four furious hours of labour, you had thought to yourself that you would have gone through it again and again, if it meant you could have this moment forever.
However, Yue was also an autistic pre-teen. Which meant she currently saw her mother as a slight inconvenience on her road to success, since this month she wanted to be a rock star.
"You don't think I can be one, do you?" She had muttered sulkily to you, eyes hidden behind the shaggy layers of hair.
"Of course I can!" You had sighed, leaning down to her level and tying back her hair, leaving the bangs that covered her eyes, just the way she liked it. "But nothing comes easy, you know."
"What do you mean?"
"You'll have to practice a lot," you hummed, adjusting the guitar she was holding to the proper position. Your mind was foggy, but you could remember the way Sukuna used to hold his own guitar when the two of you were dating, singing you awful songs until you had doubled over laughing. "And you'll have to be on a stage."
"A stage?" Yue gasped in horror, almost dropping the guitar. "In front of how many people?"
"If you get famous, hundreds." You watched as the horror spread across her face. "Thousands. You know, maybe even a million."
"I can't do that!" She blanched, pushing her bangs over her face once more. "I can't be a singer!"
"Don't say that," you stood up, putting on your heels, shooting a grateful look to your friends, Satoru and Suguru, on the couch. They had very valiantly agreed to babysit Yue, being the only people other than her that she would verbalize around. "Just because you don't like crowds doesn't mean you can't work to tolerate them."
"But I can't sing in front of all those people!" She protested. She always got grumpier when you left the house, frowning as you picked up your purse.
"But Yue, your singing is so beautiful." It was true. Your daughter had such a pretty voice that the first time you heard her singing in her living room, you thought she was playing a song from the TV. If she hadn't wanted to become a singer, you would have been more than happy as well, but it was so evident that music was something she loved. The fact that she was shying away from it because of her insecurities destroyed you. "Tell you what, when I come back, Uncle Toru and I will sit and watch you play the song you were practicing."
"Absolutely," Satoru nodded seriously from the couch, scrolling through your TV for Charlie and Lola, trying to remember which episode he and Yue stopped on last time. "I will be your biggest fan."
"As if!" You stuck your tongue out at him, causing your daughter to laugh. She didn't do that often anymore. "I'll always be her biggest fan. Lock the door behind me, Yue."
Hearing the slight click as you stepped into the cold, you took a deep breath and found your taxi. You can do this. You can do this.
Your best friends, Satoru and Suguru, had caught you crying over a picture of Sukuna while you were in high school around a week ago, and they had not let it slide. Unlike your mother, who had held you whenever you burst into unprompted tears, your best friends were completely over him. Hated him more than you did, in fact.
"Girl, I've had enough." Satoru picked the picture from your hand and tore it up before you could protest. "You're going to a club, final."
"What? No!" You had yelped. "Are you crazy?
"We're pretty sane, thank you," Suguru said, grabbing the pieces of paper from his husband, scrunching them up, and throwing them into the bin across the room.
"And you really think I'll find another person?" You scoffed. "I look like the type of person who wouldn't be asked for an ID anymore."
Satoru sighed at your self-conscious expression. "Babe, you're stunning, and we don't know why you refuse to see that."
"Just because Sukuna was too blind of a fucking bat to see it doesn't mean it's true. Any man would be lucky enough to have you," Suguru nodded wisely.
When you tried to protest again, both of them loudly interrupted you. "I don't want to hear another word," Satoru narrowed his eyes. "You're going to the club, and that's final."
"Go get some bitches," Suguru insisted, grabbing the entire photo album from your hand and placing it on the topmost shelf of your cupboard.
"You guys are fucking idiots."
So now here you were, in a line for a nightclub you were sure was made for children with fake driving licenses. There were posters all around the entrance, showcasing bands that would rotate on different days of the week. Surprisingly, the security guard still asked for your ID, slightly flattering you. When you stepped into the club, you were immediately hit by the loud music.
Yeah, you were not made for this anymore. Hitting thirty-one meant staying at home with your kid and coloring, not trying to take shots off the floor.
Approaching the bar, your eyes lit up with recognition at the names of drinks you used to have when you were in high school. You didn't drink much after Yue was born, but you still had the occasional bottle on Satoru's anniversary with Suguru, or your mother's birthday.
"What can I get for you?" The bartender flashed you a smile, her red hair done up in an updo you weren't sure was obeying physics.
"I'll start with a Mai Tai, thanks," you smiled at her, adjusting the straps of your dress. You had forgotten how hot it could get in these places.
Craddling your drink carefully and keeping an eye on whoever's hand tried to drift too close to the rim, you made your way to the edge of the large stage in the center of the room. This was probably for the band that would come on in a few minutes. The space there was far more crowded; people were already pushing against the hardwood of the stage to get a better view.
Aha, there they came.
While they set up their instruments, you watched the different cables plug into speakers and jacks. Would Yue ever like to do this? She hated loud noises and hated people. You knew she tried not to, but she just couldn't help it at all.
But it was okay. You would always love her for who she was, no matter what.
The first strums of the bass boomed, and other people were cheering deafeningly around you. You smiled, downing your glass of alcohol and recalling the way you would shout when your local band used to play ten years ago. In fact, Satoru was the lead singer in it. When Suguru had caught sight of him, he had suddenly wanted to go to the bar far more frequently, especially on the days he played.
You didn't have to find another man tonight. You just needed to have fun. That was the most important part for you. Suguru was right- why were you crying over a man who used to abuse you? Why had you forgotten how to laugh outside the safety of your home?
The melody of the piano and the beat of the drums started to reverberate in the club. You had already started to bop your head to the music without realising it, foot tapping to the lyrics that the singer belted. The lights had already dimmed for the crowd behind you, spotlights falling on the band and the first row where you stood.
Wow, the guitarist was killing it. The riffs he played could make a beginner sob, but he did it so effortlessly. He had piercings, lots of them, actually. One on his eyebrow and one on his lip, from what you could see in this angle. Rings on his fingers that seemed like blurs when the pads pressed against strings rapidly. He looked young enough to still be in college, but good enough to tell you this was definitely not his first show.
About to slip your eyes to the drummer, his gaze slipped to yours. You met his eyes for a few seconds, in which you felt like he had traced your entire face over multiple times. He messed up a chord, which earned a side-eye from the bassist, but he was able to cover it up with another, impromptu riff.
God, he was good. You used to play an instrument back in the day, too, long forgotten, but even you knew that whatever he was doing was extremely difficult.
Five songs, six songs, you could clearly see the others around you getting worse for wear with the amount of drinks that they were consuming. A guy tried to grind on you, but you pushed him away, catching sight of his white hair. You weren't going for teenagers, but you certainly weren't going for your grandpa either.
After at least a dozen songs, probably around eleven, the band took their final bow and started to pack up their instruments, the loud boom of the club's playlist coming back onto the speakers. You moved to find the bathroom, grimacing until you found a neat enough stall that wasn't sticky with unidentified fluids you didn't want to know about. When you came out, drying your hands in the air, you decided this was quite enough for tonight. Your first time in a bar after so long, and you managed to last a whole two hours? That was an achievement if anything.
You were, however, stopped by a man. The man, you realised, who was the guitarist you were just watching. Up close, he looked prettier than you thought, spotting multiple piercings on his ears that you had missed. He also looked very, very drunk, being held up by the lead singer. He had a cap over his head and a very sheepish look on his face.
"Man, come on!" He whispered, giving you an ashamed look. "Ma'am, I am so sorry, please just ignore us-"
"Let me go, Takuma," the guitarist pouted, turning to you with the conviction that only a drunk man could have, and holding up a rose. You did a double- no, triple take at the action, looking at his cheeks flushing pink. "I want to talk to her."
"Choso!" So-called Takuma snapped at him, trying to bat away the rose he held up.
"You are, quite possibly," Choso rubbed at his half-closed eyes to try and keep them on you. "The most beautiful woman I have ever met in my entire life."
Curse Satoru. Curse Suguru. Curse them, curse them. It was so hard admitting that they were right.
"I'm sorry?" You croaked out, pulling at the loose thread on your purse.
"Did I stutter?" He pouted, trying to hold out the rose further to you. Where on earth did he even get that? Takuma had pulled the cap over his eyes, as if he couldn't bear to watch this scene.
"Sweetie, how old are you?" You were not taking this seriously at all, the surprise melting away into amusement. Choso seemed to like it when you called him that, a dopey smile forming on his face.
"Twenty-two."
You choked on your own saliva. "Choso, is it?"
He seemed to like it when you said that, too, nodding eagerly.
"Choso, I'm thirty-one."
Takuma lifted the edge of his hat, sending you a disbelieving look at your words, as if he was thinking back on everything he had ever known in his life. Choso paused for a second, and you assumed he was going to lower the rose, before he grabbed your hand and placed the flower in it.
"Well, I don't discriminate, really."
Before you could even process what he had said, his bandmate had started to drag him away by the ponytails, causing him to wince. "I'm so sorry!" He repeated multiple times, voice drowned out by Choso's sad groans.
It was when you were in the taxi home that you had started to smile, giggling away to glory, earning a weird look from the taxi driver.
Satoru was going to laugh his fucking ass off.
Satoru was laughing his fucking ass off.
"Twenty-two," Suguru was very scandalized. Between the two of them, no matter how much they were laughing at you, they could not hide the pure joy for you in their eyes.
"Who's twenty-two?" Yue asked. She'd been asking more questions now before she was prompted to, and you could feel a proud feeling well up inside your chest.
"Some man that mummy found yesterday," you replied to her, passing her the plate of eggs you had fried for her. Before she could complain, you carefully sprinkled the pepper only on the whites, making sure she was happy with it before moving to Satoru's food. Why did you always have to cook for them when they stayed over? They were full grown adults themselves. "I think you would like him, Yue. He was a rockstar."
"Really?" Her eyes lit up in excitement, tying back her hair and keeping her bangs out. "Did he play the guitar?"
You nodded. "Yes, he did. An electric one."
She gave you a pleading look, one you had come to recognize after a decade of parenting.
"No."
"I didn't even ask yet!"
"I'm not buying you an electric guitar."
"Why not?" Not only Yue, but both Satoru and Suguru protested. You sighed, shaking your head.
"I will maybe consider it for your birthday."
Yue seemed to already have forgotten what was being talked about, eyes staring off into the distance as she thought about the guitar in her head. Her birthday was in two months, so you would have a month to save up for an electric guitar.
You had a bit of extra money that you were planning on spending on her anyway. There was no harm.
With the combination of Satoru and Suguru being the useless people they were, making you use up valuable time making breakfast for them, and the fact that you had stayed up far later than you should have last night, left you late for your job. You practically ran to the bus stop, trying not to scream at the bus driver for going at the speed of a turtle.
Panting, you put on your apron literally seconds before your boss walked in to check the employee attendance. He smiled, satisfied, before making his way back to the storage unit. Letting out a sigh of relief, your co-worker Yuuji gave you a playful grin. He was at minimum at least a decade younger than you, working here part-time from the college next door. "I don't think I've seen you late before."
"I had a late night yesterday," you groggily said, rubbing at your face. You hadn't even had the time to put concealer on your face, so you were sure you looked like an absolute wreck.
Yuuji let out a gasp. "I thought you told me you were never going to a club again?" His eyes snapped to the flower in your hair. You had thought it wasn't going to look that great, but it actually turned out pretty nice.
"When you have two very convincing gay best-friends, it's hard to refuse," you laughed at his confused expression, spotting five people walking closer to the cafe.
"Oh my god, no," You immediately ducked behind the counter, shaking your head with horror. This could not be happening.
"You good?" Yuuji raised an eyebrow at you in concern.
"Just take this order, will you?" You hissed at him, using your seniority card to the max.
"Yes, ma'am." The pink-haired man smiled at the group that came in, his customer service voice turning on. "Wow, it's you lot again today. Why do you come here so often? What can I get for you?"
You could see the scene from the mirror placed upon the wall, watching the band you had seen last night walk in. There was that Takuma guy, still wearing his hat. The singer, the drummer, the bassist. Then there was the guy who had hit on you without a care in the world.
You shamefully put the rose in your hair today while getting ready in the morning. God, you wish you hadn't. This had to be the worst possible situation ever.
"I know what I want," Choso said grumpily to hat-guy, who gave him a glare. "But I'm sure Takuma won't let me have it."
"Okay, man, you've got to let it go," the drummer sighed while the bassist placed his order with Yuuji. "She was nine years older than you."
No, this had to be the worst possible situation ever.
"She didn't look it, Aoi," Choso protested, crossing his arms. His hair was done back in that adorable two ponytail hairstyle. Now that you could see him outside the club light, there was a tattoo running along his nose and cheeks. How much drip did this guy exactly have? "When will I ever see her again?"
Yuuji seemed to have caught onto the situation, starting to struggle to hold back his laugh. He looked away for a split second to calm himself down before returning to write down their orders.
"You know what?" Takuma tutted. "I hope you never see her again. If I were you, I would die from embarrassment. I don't know how you do it."
It was only when a few more customers entered the cafe, and it was nice and packed, that you dared to stand up again. Honestly, you weren't even going to, but your boss had come to check on you guys once more, and you couldn't really explain that you were hiding from a kid who tried to offer you a rose.
Why were you hiding from him? You couldn't tell yourself. Maybe it was the fact that you hadn't been hit on in ages. The feeling made your stomach giddy, lungs contracting till you couldn't take breaths. It was embarrassing to feel this way when you were already in your thirties, but it was just the most wholesome thing that had happened to you in a while. Could anybody blame you?
Don't notice me, you prayed to yourself. The band was sitting all the way on the far end of the cafe. Please do not notice me.
You continued your usual routine, acting like nothing was wrong. Making drinks and smiling at customers. You kept your gaze steadily away from the other table, but your curiosity got the better of you, and you sneaked just a small peek.
Choso was already staring at you.
With the way his head was resting on his hand and he had the expression of a lovestruck puppy, it seemed he'd been staring for some quite some while, too. Takuma shook his head with disappointment, mouthing a sorry to you and smacking the back of Choso's head. Choso didn't even seem to register it; his eyes locked onto your hair, where the rose sat in between your ponytail.
You immediately turned around, cheeks heating up. Why was the stare so intense? His eyes were still half-closed, but not as shut as yesterday. They were wider today, as if he were trying to memorize you.
It's just for today, you shook your head. And they're going to get up soon. Their drinks are almost over.
The man named Aoi had to physically drag Choso out of the cafe like he was a stray kitten. The moment they were gone, Yuuji burst into a laugh that made you smile even though you were angry with him. "Don't you dare laugh, you piece of shit."
"That has to be the funniest thing I have seen in ages," Yuuji chuckled, wiping tears from his eyes, some of the customers looking over curiously. "Did you see the way he was staring at you?"
"Yeah, yeah, I don't need a reminder. Go take some orders or something," you ruffled his hair, shaking your head and moving back to the coffee machine.
Much to your despair, Choso's band returned the next day. And the next. And the next. In fact, there hadn't been a day they were not in the cafe the moment it had opened. Every time they were there, you would immediately go to a different part of the counter, finding anything else to do while Yuuji took their orders. And every time, Choso stared at you from their usual seat. He'd gotten better at making it subtler, realizing on the third day that he was making you nervous with the way you had spilled a cup three times, but you could still feel him staring.
On the sixth day, Choso came alone.
And on the sixth day, Yuuji was on sick leave for a whole week.
Scratch whatever you had said before. This. This was the worst situation that you could be in.
"Hello," he breathed out as you stood at the counter. He was wearing such different clothes from when he was on stage. There, he wore borderline slutty clothes, netted shirts, and ripped jeans. Here, he wore a hoodie that would probably swallow him whole.
"What can I get you?" You asked him, watching as he recited the order you had heard five times over the past week. Instead of going to his usual seat, he sat on one of the counter stools. He watched you make the drink, head resting on his folded arms. When you slid it over to him, he spoke up again.
"Can I have your number?"
You choked on your saliva, much like you did in the club. "I thought I told you I was in my thirties."
"So?" He was not helping your case right now.
"So, you're too young for me," you said decisively, patting the top of his head in an apology. You hadn't meant to; the gesture was instinctive for your daughter, and Choso turned bright red at the touch. "I'm not!"
"You are."
"You couldn't even tell that I was twenty-two when you were checking me out, though."
"When did I ever do that?!"
"When I was playing on stage!" He protested. "I could feel a practical laser coming from your direction."
Now it was your turn for your cheeks to heat up, smacking him with the cloth that you had been using to wipe down the counter (which was perfectly clean already). "Don't talk to your elders like that, brat."
The action seemed to do more against your favour than anything, really. Choso smiled giddily when you had hit him, sipping at his drink and watching you take other orders. When he was done, he spent another five minutes before reluctantly walking out, as if he was being pulled back by an imaginary force.
He repeated the same pattern tomorrow.
Give him your number. He gets rejected. He tries to fight it. He gets smacked or hit in some way, and he settles down, trying not to make the hearts in his eyes too obvious.
"Why won't you give me your number?" He sighed pitifully. putting the straw in his drink sadly. "Are you married?"
"Nope," you sighed. But he knew that already- the only reason he hadn't kept his distance was that he noticed the lack of a wedding band on your finger. "It's not like you don't want to or something."
"And who told you that?" You asked dryly.
He pointed to the rose in your hair. You'd even gone to wax it so that it lasted and didn't cripple. "You've worn that every day to work."
"So what, it's because it's pretty," you muttered, turning your head away before you could catch the triumphant grin that was most definitely on his face.
When he left this time, he didn't pick up his cup. Simply walked out, a usual five minutes later, like he usually did. Picking up the plastic to dispose of it, you caught sight of a chain of numbers on the glove.
Call me please <3
About to throw it away, you caught sight of words below the number as well.
Don't throw it away, I'll be very sad :(
This little piece of shit.
"Yes." "Absolutely."
"You're supposed to say no!" You said exasperatedly, shooting dirty looks at Satoru and Suguru. When asking them whether you should add his number or not, their reaction was positive immediately.
"Come on, so what if he's younger?" Satoru tried to coax you.
"I bet he has more stamina," Suguru added.
"Ew!" You threw up your hands and returned to your room after calling out to Yue. They had decided to get her ice cream today, grocery bags in hand. When your door was shut, you pulled out the crumpled-up coffee sleeve from your pocket, staring down at the message. You were the one who worked both shifts at the cafe for the extra money, so it had been digging into your pocket the entire day.
You were conflicted. On one hand, he was probably your age when you got divorced. On the other hand, he was so, so cute. And you really wanted to indulge.
You wanted to do something for yourself this time.
You: Hello
Choso: Please tell me this is who I hope it is
You: The one you've been trying to hit on for the past week?
Choso: I'm acc in heaven rn you don't even understand
You couldn't stop the giddy smile that spread on your face, feet kicking slightly on the edge of the bed. You hadn't told him you would be dating, but you were sure you could imagine the look on Choso's face, one he often had at the cafe.
You: Don't you dare rename me as your girlfriend
Choso: How did you know </3 Is "Hot Barista Ma" okay
You: Absolutely not
Choso: You know what, I don't even have to listen to you, it's not like you can do anything to me through my phone
You: I'm going to kick you out tomorrow morning
Choso: Yes maam.
True to your assumption, Choso showed up the next day with the joy of a golden retriever finding a bone. He didn't even have to tell you his order. You were already making it at the machine.
"Hi, Choso," you didn't have to look up to know who was the first person in.
"Are we dating now?"
Wow, straight to the point.
"No," you gave him a narrowed look, to which he pouted. He reached into the pocket of his hoodie, sat down, and pulled out another rose. The unfamiliar butterflies in your stomach burst again. When you reached for it, he pulled his hand back. "If we're not dating, I don't think I can give it to you."
This was new. He wasn't so playful before. You gave him an annoyed sigh, smacking him with your cloth again as he laughed and handed you the rose. You realised that it had already been dipped in wax, the small, frozen droplets dripping off the edge of the petals. "Thank you."
"Anytime, ma."
"Do not call me that."
"Okay, darling?"
"No."
"Baby?"
"No."
"Doll?"
"I'm going to kick you out."
Your life felt brighter, somehow. At first, you had thought Choso's staring would make you uneasy, and it did. But now, it felt like a warm blanket on a cold day, soft and heavy at the same time. He didn't make a sound, not interrupting with your work, yet he always managed to motivate you to work faster. The faster you worked, the longer a minute you had to talk to him before the next customer came in.
The next week, when Yuuji came back, he was surprised to see you preparing a drink in advance. "Who's that for?"
"Choso."
Yuuji let out a bark of laughter. "I was gone for seven days." He paused, raising an eyebrow. "Are you two dating now? If so, let me warn you that he's extremely messy and practices into late hours of the night-"
"I do not!" Choso protested from the corner, causing you to jump. You hadn't even seen the guy enter. You paused, passing the drink to Choso before turning to Yuuji. "How did you know that?"
Your coworker gave you an impish smile. "Well, you see… he's kind of my brother-"
"WHAT?" You covered your mouth at his outburst, glaring at the two snickering boys. "You're fucking with me."
"Unfortunately, I am not," Yuuji shook his head while Choso gave him an offended look. "The hell do you mean unfortunate?"
Every day, there is a new thing to learn.
"What are you doing tonight?" Choso asked you, eyes watching the rose in your hair.
"I'm working, Cho." You didn't know when the nickname had slipped into your vocabulary in the past month, but it had. Choso had not gone a single day without coming to the cafe. One day, Monday last week, he had been an hour late and showed up with literal tears in his eyes, begging for forgiveness. Yuuji groaned and rolled his eyes while you had to hide your laugh, telling him it wasn't a big deal and that it was okay. He had scoffed and told you that it definitely was a big deal, because he liked to start his days watching you.
Maybe that was when you had started to use the nickname.
"Working?" he frowned. "Yuuji's shift gets over at lunch time."
"Yes, well, I need the money," you hummed out. These topics were usually embarrassing to talk about, but when it was with him, you didn't really mind them. "I have to provide for a child, too."
His lack of an answer caused you to turn your head, watching his shocked expression. Right. You hadn't told him about Yue yet.
"You have a kid?" He whispered out, and for a second, you thought he was going to straight get up and leave. If you had found a man who had a kid when you were in your twenties, you would have definitely had second thoughts.
"What's her name?"
You blinked. "Oh. It's Yue."
"Yue," he repeated, a grin spreading on his face. "That's a pretty name. Did you name her?"
"Yes, I did." Where was this sudden shyness coming from? "Her dad wasn't there when she was born."
"Her dad must be an absolute cunt." His wording made you gape. "Choso!"
"What, am I wrong?"
"Well, not exactly," you sighed begrudingly, passing a latte over to Yuuji. "He was a dick."
Choso hummed in satisfaction, but he didn't seem to say anything. His eyes were fixed on you, but he seemed to be lost in thought. You had to gently pat him and tell him that his drink was almost spilling with the way he was holding it.
"Right, sorry," he licked at the rim of the cup, unfairly distracting you. "I wanted you to come to my show in the evening."
"Oh god no," you shuddered. "I don't do well at clubs, I promise."
"Pleaaaseee," he drawled out. "You've missed like, the past six shows already. How much do you make per shift?"
"I make quite a lot. This boss is very generous." Once more, you sent a prayer up to whoever had blessed you with an open spot in this fancy-ass cafe. Choso pouted, finishing his drink and getting up. "Think about it, okay?"
When you saw that he left his cup on the counter, you shook your head. This was never a good sign. When you picked it up, there was an unreasonably big tip left there, which caused you to let out a gasp. This man could not make that much from concerts alone.
"You should go," Yuuji piped up from beside you. "Every time he comes home, and you're not in the crowd, he lies on the sofa like some depressed crow and mopes around all night. For the sake of my sleep, just attend it this once."
Maybe you should go tell your boss you weren't going to do the evening shift today.
When you showed up at the club again, you had found yourself dressing far better than you usually did. For some reason, you wished to look your best. With the way Choso was always so perfect on stage, you assumed you should reciprocate the same.
Moving towards the stage after downing a Martini, you were surprised to see that Choso was already on the edge of the stage, eyes scanning the crowd dejectedly. When he found you, his face lit up like a spotlight, jumping off the platform to hug you. You realised you didn't pull back, instead melting into the embrace. "There's no way you actually came, are you real?"
"Unfortunately," you said dryly, though your eyes were bright. He made you feel young again, made you feel like you were secretly trying to steal kisses behind the cupboards before the teachers caught you. And god, was it addicting.
The entire performance, you could tell he was struggling not to look at you and stay focused on his guitar, but every time he made a mistake, he was quick to come back. You cheered the loudest, your throat going hoarse. Clapping until your hands were red, you had to find a place to sit down before your heels had carved into your feet.
"How did I do?" Choso was like a spring next to you, hovering around you comfortably as you sat down on the barstool.
"Really good," you told him, watching his face beam. "You know, my daughter wants to be a rock star too."
"Yue?" He asked. How did he remember the name so easily? "Oh my god, that's so cute. How old is she?"
"She's turning eleven this month, actually." Your smile came easily when you were talking about her. "She's been begging me to buy an electric guitar for her."
"Is that why you're working extra?" His hands had started to smooth out the parts of your hair that were out of place. Just like his hug, you didn't move to stop him.
"I always work extra," you reminded him. "I'm just working on weekends now, too. I don't mind it, really."
His eyes softened at your words, palm lingering on your scalp. Your phone chimed in your hands, and you looked down, cursing. The Uber driver who had very specifically promised he would be here at the time you had provided him had bailed on you. "Shit."
"What's wrong?"
"Fucking taxi decided to ghost me." You stuck your middle finger up at the screen. "The universe couldn't stop at my relationships." Choso fought back giggles as you both made your way to the exit. "How am I going to get back? It's so late."
"Isn't your house within walking distance?" He asked, remembering when you had told him which part of town you lived in. He remembered a lot.
"Yes, but I'd rather sleep here than walk another inch in my heels." You took off your red shoes, wincing at the equally red marks that bloomed on your heel. Choso's eyes lit up, and he told you to stay here before taking off. You sent a text to Satoru, apologizing and telling him you were going to be a little late. He replied with a short video of Satoru and Suguru sitting in front of Yue, who was playing the guitar as if her life were on the line. It probably was, considering she cried for ages whenever she got a song wrong after practicing a lot. You smiled at the message, reacting to it with a heart.
When Choso came back, he was holding a pair of black flats. "Megumi always wears boosters to seem taller when he's on stage," he gestured to their pianist, the shy guy who was currently getting asked for a picture from four different girls. "So his feet start hurting too."
"Isn't he going to be mad?" You watched him slip the shoes onto you. They were a little loose, but you didn't mind.
"Better to ask for forgiveness than permission," he grinned, holding up your heels in his fingers from their straps, the two of you running outside the club before Megumi could spot you. "Which way do we go?"
The walk to your house was quiet. Not the quiet that filled the silence when it needed to. The quiet that filled the silences because it could. Because it was welcome, not awkward. Somewhere along the walk, his pinky had found yours, intertwining your two fingers, strolling along the cobblestone near the river. The moon shone down lightly on the surface of the water, playing with the waves and making ripples of white.
You wanted to walk with him forever, you realised. If you could, you would come out every single night just so you two could walk.
When you reached your house, you turned towards him and tried to take off the shoes. He refused, slapping your hand. "You can just give them to me tomorrow in the cafe."
"Okay." You were too tired to argue with him, instead observing the way the white light played along his features. He was already so beautiful, but the lighting made him look like a prince. His ears flushed red at your staring, averting his gaze. "Why are you staring?"
"You're very pretty, Cho." You didn't think before you said it, but you couldn't take back the truth. Plus, watching him blush like a cartoon character was adorable. It was so easy to make him flustered. Before he could recover, you went onto your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him.
If another person had acted as Choso had, you'd probably think they didn't want you. He was frozen to the spot, not reciprocating the touch at all. When you moved away, he pulled you back to give you a proper kiss. There wasn't any tongue or teeth, just the soft press of his lips against yours. After you two broke off, it seemed he was even redder than before, if that was even possible.
"Thank you for inviting me out." You gave him another small peck before opening your door. "I needed that."
Satoru and Suguru looked up to greet you when you entered the house. From the look in your eyes when you arrived, they could already tell what had happened, smirks spreading on their faces. "Look who's getting on her freak-"
"YUE IS RIGHT HERE!"
The next day, Choso arrived with a nervous stride, sitting down on the barstool with dark circles, which proved he definitely needed the coffee today. Honestly, you were kind of nervous, too. It was probably the mild drunken stupor you were in yesterday that made you kiss him. Were you supposed to apologize? Were you supposed to smile? What were you-
"We're like, dating now, right?"
"Ewwwwww," Yuuji groaned from the background, moving to the storage. "I'm going to do inventory, please finish whatever the fuck this is by the time I'm out."
You placed the rag against the counter, sighing. "You're not bothered by… my age or my daughter?" You asked softly.
Choso gave you a look as if you'd asked the dumbest question ever. "First of all," he held a hand up to his chest like he was wounded. "I already told you I don't discriminate. Second of all, why on earth would your daughter bother me? I've never even met her."
You spluttered. "Well, not like that, like you're fine with the person you're dating having a child."
"Of course I am!" He scoffed, frowning at you as you had just insulted him. "It's just another mini version of my girl's heart I have to win over. Don't worry, she'll like me soon enough. I hope?"
My girl. The sound of it made you instantaneously happy. You leaned against the counter, kissing him on the forehead. "Then yes, I'm your girlfriend."
Girlfriend. When was the last time you'd called yourself that? Maybe when you were dating Sukuna. You didn't really remember how it had made you feel, the sensation dulling over the decade. You assumed it had probably felt like something you were feeling right now, fireworks going off in your stomach. Choso seemed to feel it too, getting red again.
Yuuji came back outside with loud noises and huffs. "I hope we're done with our lovers' conversation?"
A month ago, you would have probably slapped him for calling you lovers. Now, you just laughed, lifting a plastic bag with black flats and passing it to Choso.
"Yes, we are."
"Hey, isn't Yue's birthday this week?" Choso asked through bites of the cinnamon roll, crumbs on the corner of his mouth. You brushed them off and gave him your thumb to lick off. "Yeah, why?"
"Can I come?" He asked, licking off the crumb from your thumb before going back for another bite. "I mean, I've never actually seen her."
"Sure, why not?" You agreed faster than you thought you would before pausing, moving back. "Wait, hold on…"
"Something wrong?" He asked, tilting his head.
"She doesn't really verbalize around other people," you gave him an apologetic look. "She's-"
"-Autistic?" Choso completed gently. You blinked, surprised at his answer. "I know. From what you've told me, she reminds me a lot of Megumi from our band."
"You mean the pianist?" Your brows furrowed.
"Yeah, he was awful the first time we met him," Choso shook his head while smiling, sucking his fingers clean of the cinnamon. "Wouldn't speak to anybody, wouldn't sing on stage. He wouldn't look anybody in the eye. Still doesn't, really. But Aoi, Takuma, Inumaki, and I managed to coax him out of his shell slowly."
"Oh." Every time you thought this man couldn't get any more perfect, you blinked, and he did. It was like there was a stream of sunlight shining through the window specifically for him. "He seems far better than Yue at socialization."
"He's come a long way," Yuuji spoke up from the side as well. "I remember the first time I went to see their practice, and Megumi literally threw a fit because he wasn't warned beforehand. I didn't know whether to laugh or feel guilty."
"If you don't want me to come, that's fine too," Choso smiled widely at you, picking up his bag and starting to walk out. "But I always feel it's better to ask her. It always surprises you."
So when you went back home, that's the first thing you asked your daughter about.
"Yue, your birthday is next week, not today!" You smiled as she walked around with a crown. "Save the shenanigans for Friday, will you?"
"It's soon enough," she argued back, pushing the bangs in front of her eyes. You moved them a gap so that she could see without getting cross-eyed.
"Do you know who's going to be coming?" She shook her head. "It's going to be Uncle Satoru and Suguru like always. Do you remember the rockstar I told you about before?"
Yue nodded, lifting her arms towards the cupboard. You pointed at different things until she smiled, passing that one to her. This time, it turned out to be the Sour Patch gummies. "Yes, I do."
"Would you mind if he came?"
She let out a dramatic screech. "I'm going to see a real-life rockstar?"
You laughed at her reaction. "Only if you want him to come, baby. If you don't want to, that's up to you."
Yue sat cross-legged on the kitchen tiles, pressing her hands towards her forehead like she was in deep thought. "…What is his hair colour?"
You found this irrelevant to the conversation, but probably relevant enough to her. "It's black."
"Okay, he can come," she nodded eagerly, surprising you. You knelt to her and gave her a tight hug, fighting back the surprising tears that had sprung to your eyes. "What's wrong, mummy?"
"Nothing, Yue." Your hand rubbed circles on her back. "I'm just so proud of you."
"Um…" Yue paused for a second before she copied you, rubbing your back too. "I'm proud of you too, mummy."
You laughed wetly, wiping away the tears with your free hand.
Oh my god, this could not be happening.
Which stupid fuck had thrown stones into all of your windows while you were gone? Thank god you had chosen not to do the evening shift today.
You ran inside your house with lightning speed, opening the door and calling out your daughter's name. She had curled up into a ball in the bathroom, and you pulled her to your chest.
"Yue," you tried to speak calmly. "Did you see who did that?"
"I don't know," she whispered. "There were some boys from my school who followed me back home. They were laughing at me because…"
She didn't have to finish. You already knew what had happened. "Do these boys have football classes after school?"
"I think so," she nodded.
"Tell me their names, baby."
Anger moved through you like some sort of lightning strike. First, you called up Satoru, who arrived in ten minutes. Then, you called up Choso, who arrived in five.
"What happened?" He gasped at the sight of broken windows. You got into the passenger's seat, taking a deep breath. "Choso, do you know the way to Jujutsu Elementary School?"
He nodded, starting to drive without any questions. He realised you didn't really want to answer any. He simply placed his hand on your thigh, a silent reminder that he was still there if you needed him. The feeling of his palm calmed you down a little, and you pressed your own hand on top of his. "…Some boys threw rocks at our windows because of Yue's autism."
The way that the fury moved through Choso's face was electric, as if he, too, had been there when he had heard Yue's cries. "They did not."
When the car pulled up to the school, you could see the boys playing football in the courtyard. Stepping outside with the purpose of what only a mother could, you called out to the teacher who was in charge of them, telling him the three boys you needed to see.
When they had moved to stand in front of you, they had smiles on their faces, as if they knew that you were Yue's mother. If you had your way, you would have probably thrown them all off a cliff for making your daughter cry like that.
You took another breath, trying to calm yourself down like in the car, but it didn't work. "Do you have any idea what you have done?"
The blonde kid shrugged. "It was just a bit of fun."
"No, it was not just a bit of fun!" You shouted at him, causing his smile to drop. "First of all, now our windows are broken! How easy do you think it is for somebody to climb through a window and enter your house when it's broken? Would you feel safe if your bedroom window were broken?" He shook his head. "Well, that's what's happened for all of our windows. Because of you. Because you cannot handle a girl who is different from you!"
The teacher had tried to move to stop you, but at your words, he stepped aside. "Do you even know how hard it is for Yue to come here? No, you don't, and you never will. She has to force herself to get into a place like this because we cannot afford a school for special needs, and it is one of my biggest regrets that she is classmates with people like you!" One of the boys had started to sob into his hands. "It is so, so hard for her, and when she just started making improvement, you think it's funny to throw rocks at people's houses!"
Choso pressed a small, soothing hand on your lower back, grounding you. "If this is your idea of a joke, then I am scared of what you will turn out to be when you are grown up. Tomorrow, if I do not see my daughter coming back with a beam on her face, telling me that you had apologized to her, I will make sure that all of your houses have holes in them, whether or not illegal. Is that understood?" You gritted out, fighting to keep your hands to yourself. You watched the three of them nod, the teacher giving them a look of his own. Before you walked out, you shot them another glare. "And in case you forgot, Yue doesn't like to speak to people she doesn't think deserve it, so write her an apology in a letter instead of trying to give her a half-ass sorry that you don't mean."
When you were back in the car, you leaned your head against the seat, breathing heavily. Your eyes closed as Choso started to reverse, heading back to your house.
"If it makes you feel any better, that was insanely hot."
Through the fog of your anger, you felt a small laugh build in your throat. "Me shouting at three little kids was hot?"
"Incredibly," he nodded solemnly. "Had to fight not to get a boner in the middle of a children's playground."
"Cho!" You were outrightly laughing now, slapping him on the arm while he grinned. He dropped you off at Suguru and Satoru's house address instead, who had been the angels they always were and had offered to let you stay with them while the windows got fixed. Satoru had already moved all the temporary clothes and Yue there, so they were waiting for you on the doorstep.
"Thank you," you gave another kiss to Choso. "I seem to be thanking you way too much."
"I don't mind," he had that dopey expression on his face again when you kissed him. "Call me if you need anything, okay?"
You nodded, stepping out of the car and blatantly avoiding Satoru's wiggling eyebrows, instead hugging a caring Suguru. "I'm so sorry, Sugu."
"Why on earth are you apologizing?" Satoru had Yue on his shoulders, who had seemed to calm down a little bit. "We practically live at your house, it's time our furniture got a bit worn down too, don't you think?"
It was only once you had finally sat down in your night clothes, Yue curled up in your lap, that you had opened the price for replacing the windows and winced, feeling a fresh wave of agony spill over you. With this much, you weren't even going to last. With Satoru and Choso pitching in as well, as much as you had tried to refuse them, the price was still quite high. You stroked your daughter's hair, watching her with a pained feeling crawling up in your chest.
You were definitely not going to be able to get her that electric guitar.
Thank whoever was up there that your house was fixed before Yue's birthday. Entering the house like it was an unknown place, one day before her birthday, you quickly cheered her up with the specific songs she liked, avoiding ones she didn't. When you had messaged Choso that he could come, he had replied with multiple heart emojis and stickers that you were sure only people of his generation could keep on their phone and actually remember where they were.
No matter how hard you racked your brain, you could not think of a single gift you could give Yue with the amount of money you currently had. As much as it hurt you, you would have to hopefully tell her that it was a surprise for Christmas instead. You were already feeling the awful stab of the pain on her expression.
Choso🤎: I'm already here. Should I go in?
You: Do you see a ridiculously rich pair of white sandals outside my door?
Choso🤎: Yes 😭
You: Okay, Satoru is home. I think it should be fine if you go in. Just message me if something happens
Choso🤎: Yes ma
You trudged back home in the evening, sighing to yourself when you opened the door. You had already prepared a huge apology, but you stopped dead in your tracks when you spotted Yue in the middle of the carpet, smiling widely as she'd just won the lottery with a shiny, shiny electric guitar in her hands. And in front of her was Choso on his knees, showing her the different plugs and cables she had to use.
"Cho?" You slowly took off your shoes and walked in, where Satoru was filming a video while Suguru was baking his first-class cookies. "What's this?"
"It's our gift, what do you mean?" He nudged you with a smile. "I told her to wait till you got here to open it since it's from both of us, but she was just too impatient and ripped all the packaging off."
"It's red," Yue whispered in awe, strumming at the strings messily. Choso tutted, explaining the differences between electric and acoustic guitars, positioning her hand correctly. You sat quietly, watching it unfold, imagining him sitting on the carpet with Yue every day. Every time you thought this man could not get any more perfect, you blinked, and he did.
It had only been two months, but you had utterly fallen in love with this man embarrassingly fast.
When Yue cut her cake (that Suguru had also baked), you swore you had never seen her smile wider, eyes crinkling up. She didn't look a thing like Sukuna, really. She looked nothing like you, either. She looked like a star so blinding it hurt to watch her. And god, she'd made you all stay up till one o'clock listening to her play guitar. You'd gently pulled it away from her when she'd paused to take a break, telling her that the guitar couldn't be played too long, otherwise the neighbours might complain. Begrudingly agreeing, Satoru and Suguru took her up to her room, where they would probably camp out for the night as well, reading her stories.
"It is so late, I'm so sorry," Choso gasped at the clock, searching for his coat. Before he could move another inch, you had dragged him up the stairs. He stumbled behind you. "Where are we going?"
"Be quiet."
Obeying, he shut his mouth until both of you were in your bedroom and you locked the door. Double-checking the lock, you pulled him into a sharp kiss, hugging him tightly. He melted at the feeling, hands moving to your waist. "Oh no, are you crying?"
You shook your head, wiping at the wetness in your eyes. "Choso, you didn't have to do what you did today."
"But I wanted to," he murmured against your lips, pulling back enough that he could talk, but also feel your lips against his. "You looked so sad this past week; it was hurting me, too." You gently pushed him down onto the bed, the two of you moving higher so that Choso could rest against the headrest. You moved to straddle him, still hugging him tightly. You were scared to let go, scared that he would be a repeat of Sukuna, scared that Yue would have to go through such a hard time again.
But one look in his eyes told you that he could never do that. That he could never be a Sukuna. He was purely and perfectly Choso, someone you now couldn't live without.
"Oh, Cho," you breathed out, leaning your forehead against his, "I love you."
There was that usual stunned silence you received when you flustered him before he grabbed you for another kiss, lips moving against yours carefully. You could feel him unbuttoning your shirt, going as slow as possible, as if to give you a chance to smack his hand away or tell him to stop. But you didn't, welcoming his touch and reciprocating as well, pulling his shirt over his head.
"I love you too," he repeated, moving his hands down your body with reverence one could not fake. "God, I love you so much it hurts." He kissed his way through the column of your neck, punctuating each kiss with a quiet "I love you."
When he reached your chest, he carefully undid the clasp of your bra, pushing the fabric to the side of the bed. He dipped his head down, mouthing at your nipples with his lips and tongue, causing you to shiver and tug at his ponytails. "You're so, so pretty. I bet you didn't even know it back on that night I met you, did you?"
You ran your hands up his chest, feeling the hard ridges of muscle you had seen when he wore those netted shirts of his. You could already feel your hips moving by themselves, grinding against his clothed bulge, your pencil skirt lifting higher and higher with each roll. He groaned around your nipples at the feeling, hands stopping your hips and holding them in place.
"What's wrong?" You asked him, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
"This is going to sound really kinky, ma," Choso murmured, his voice entering that begging tone. "But I'm going to need you to sit on my face."
You let out a disbelieving gasp. "Are you crazy? I'll crush you!"
"At least I'll go out with a bang." Even during a moment like this, he had to make you laugh, a smile erupting on your face at his stupid statement. He shifted beneath you with such speed you didn't even realise how your thighs had started to bracket his face.
"We need these off, don't we?" He tugged at your skirt and panties, lifting your legs precariously so he could throw them somewhere in the room. Parting your folds, you could feel his warm breath on your core as he simply drank up the sight of it. You didn't exactly know what he could see, considering that the only light was filtering through the curtains, but he seemed to go still anyhow. "Oh, please, please lower your hips for me-"
"Cho, I've never do-" You were cut off when he pulled your hips down for a fraction of a second, licking a long stripe up your entrance as you bit back your moan. "Ohhh, don't do that-"
"You taste so sweet," he moaned softly as you willingly pushed your hips back down on his face, starting to lap at you like he was a starved man. It had been so long since you'd felt another man on you, usually sticking to your own fingers. But the tip of his tongue was swirling so deliciously around your clit, sucking it into his mouth and groaning to send vibrations up your nerves.
You clutched onto his ponytails tighter, riding out his face for all you were worth. His hands held your thighs open, tongue pushing through your rings of resistance and squirming against your walls. Your back arched at the feeling, your high reaching closer every time his tongue thrusted inside of you.
"Fuck Cho, I'm close," you croaked out, hips moving faster against his face. His eyes were half-lidded again, and he looked every bit pussy-drunk when you came on his face, juices dripping down his chin. You moved back shakily, trying to catch your breath, Choso greedily licking up the syrup on his chin and neck.
"See, you didn't crush me," he teased you, though his breath hitched when you had unbuckled his pants, sliding down his boxers as well with a sense of urgency you didn't know you had. "What are you doing, ma?"
"I can't be the only one who comes, right?" You gave him a cheeky smile before admiring the sight of his cock. It was long and so, so pretty, flushed tip hitting his stomach when it had been freed from the fabric.
You ran two fingers up the length, causing Choso to hiss and a few beads of precum to release. You carefully wrapped your mouth around his tip, closing your eyes to remember which spots were the most sensitive and which would cause him to see the stars. At his moan of approval, you took his entire length into your mouth, tongue licking at the base of his cock while you sucked on him. His precum tasted salty, with more beads releasing every second.
You alternated from sucking and pulling back, swirling your tongue around his tip. Around the parts you couldn't reach with your mouth, you used your hand, twisting your wrist with pressure that you hoped was enough.
"Shit," his back arched as you lapped at his slit, feeling his length twitch in your hands, where you twisted faster. "I'm not going to last much longer."
You took his entire length into your mouth once more, squeezing his balls gently as you felt him come deep in your throat, the spurts of seed warm against your tongue. He kept on jerking until the last drop was spilled, already feeling himself get hard at the sight of you swallowing down every drop. "Good boy."
"Please don't call me that," he whined desperately, pulling you up and watching you rub yourself against his hardening cock. His hands grabbed hold of your hips, breath going more ragged than it already was. "…Can I…?"
You nodded, just as desperate, sinking the first inch and biting his neck to suppress your moan. Just because you remembered how a cock felt didn't mean you were any less tight; your hole was not used to the entry. Choso pulled you down as slowly as he could without breaking, panting when you had sat fully down. "Please let me move," he whimpered, head resting weakly against the wood. You started to swivel your hips experimentally, fixing a pattern when you observed how his face scrunched up cutely in pleasure.
His pace had started to pick up as well, hips pistoning upwards to match yours. Your eyes rolled back, gripping onto his hair and pulling out the two elastics that held it in place, letting his black locks fall free onto his neck and shoulders. You could feel that familiar string of pleasure begging to snap inside of you, rising on you like a wave.
"Do I pull out?" he asked quietly, though it was clear that he wanted to do nothing but release inside you. You shook your head, remembering the pill strip you always had in your drawer, courtesy of Satoru and Suguru. Your body went slack when your pleasure reached its climax, head lolling onto his shoulder as you came so hard you went blind for a good second. Choso was easy to follow, letting out a broken, muffled moan as you clenched around him, shallowly thrusting in quick movements before pushing all the way inside you, digging into your cervix as he spurted over and over again. How long could one man come for?
When he had hunted blindly through your unfamiliar bathroom for a towel, he had decided on using his shirt instead, wiping you down softly with the care that you had never received from your ex-husband. When he came to lie down next to you, he pulled the blanket over you with the warmth that you had never received from your ex-husband. When you turned around, you caught him looking at you, staring at you like you had hung the stars in the sky.
"I'm so glad it's you," you mumbled, resting your head on his chest. "You don't understand how grateful I am for you." He had let you believe that it was okay to love again, that not all men were like Sukuna.
"No," he kissed the crown of your head, feeling sleep already take over his body. "I'm grateful you chose to be in the front row that day of my concert."
You were grateful for that, too.
When you woke up, Satoru and Suguru shot you knowing smiles. You sat across from each other at the dining table, eating breakfast.
"So, Choso," Suguru asked casually, watching the man as if it were a normal conversation. "How was the pull-out last night?"
You choked on the coffee you had been drinking, spluttering for air while Choso turned bright red. "I'm sorry?"
"He meant the sofa," Satoru gave him a faux innocent look, pointing to the sofa behind them. "It's a pull-out. You slept there, didn't you?"
"Sure you did," you glared at Suguru, who in return gave you a cheeky grin. You smiled at Choso, who was now the same shade as Yue's new guitar.
"Oh, and you two?" You looked at Satoru and Suguru, waiting purposefully for the two of them to lift their coffee.
"Hmm?"
"The pull-out didn't work last night at all."
It was their turn to choke on their drinks, Choso starting to beam like a Cheshire cat.
Can you tell that I love choso </3
taglist is open!! <3

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i just got summoned for yuri duty
thank you ao3 for being an archive and not an algorithm. thank you for letting me like things without consequences, thank you for being free with no ads, thank you for having lawyers to defend our freedom of speech. thank you tag wranglers. thank you to all authors and thank you ao3
*Scrolls past*
*reluctant sigh*
*scrolls back up*
*rebogs*
mafia boss x daycare teacher pt. 2~😘💋
sneakin a lil secret kiss hehe ><
pt.1
Eat You, Eat Me
Simon rescues you from your husband.
Butcher! Simon ‘ghost’ Riley x fem! Reader
tags | angst, abusive relationships, reader is married to another man, blood, murder of animals eventually, eventual smut, religious guilt, infidelity, darker than most concepts I write, please heed the tags before each chapter as this story is 18+
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⤷ Ribeye
⤷ Sirloin
⤷ Beef Stew
⤷ Tender Cut
Chapter 5
⤷ ao3 | main masterlist ╴╴╴╴╴⊹ꮺ ˚
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“There aren’t enough hours in a day.” There are actually. The problem is that we think 40 hour work weeks are an unavoidable fact of life.
The problem is that everyone has to work 8 hours, pretty much no exceptions, and with getting ready time + (unpaid) lunch + commute, “8 hours” is actually anywhere between 9 and 12, every single day, with more work to do when you get home because our society and culture was built around having one member of the household home full time and nothing has changed now that almost everyone works.
No wonder Americans are reliant on DoorDash and fast food, there’s no time or energy to cook. No one wonder mental and physical health are in shambles, many just spent all day sitting in fluorescent lights with little to no stimulation. “Just wake up earlier” “Just meal prep”… these are ok short-term, individual solutions, but the broader, systemic issue is obvious. We aren’t built for this. There’s no work-life balance. Genuinely, I think if our culture could normalize a shorter work week, many individuals’ biggest problems would simply evaporate.
Johnny MacTavish who heard the priest say “Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth.” during Sunday Mass and developed the biggest breeding kink as a result.
As a lad, it was just words, rote scripture drilled into him alongside Hail Marys and Our Fathers. But as he grew, hitting puberty, it twisted into something profane, a burning itch under his skin. The verse became his gospel, fueling fantasies that had him waking sweat soaked and hard as steel.
In a perfect work, he was a virile force scattering his seed across continents like a storm. He’d picture it in vivid detail: pinning a lithe operative from MI6 against a Berlin safehouse wall during a layover, her legs wrapped around his waist as he rutted into her.
“Take it all, lass,” he’d tell her in the fantasy, flooding her with hot spurts, imagining her womb clutching greedily at his cum. Months later, in his dreams, she’d be back in London, belly distended like a ripe fruit, stretch marks mapping the conquest of his DNA reshaping her body.
Or that sultry informant in Kabul, her dark hair fanned out on sandy sheets as he bred her deep. He’d visualize the aftermath: her cradling a fat, chubby babe against her swollen tits, the infant’s eyes opening to reveal that piercing, astonishing blue- his blue, a genetic brand.
The fantasies escalated in intensity, borders blurring. A backpacker in Sydney, fucked senseless in a beachside hostel, her cunt milking him dry, pulling out just enough to watch his seed drip from her puffy folds, only to shove back in and plug her tight. Two girls in Tokyo- friends he’d claimed in a neon lit love hotel, alternating between their slick heats, breeding them both in one frenzied night.
Soap’s cock would ache at the thought of their transformations: breasts heaving with milk, nipples dark and leaking, cunts perpetually slick and stretched from carrying his brood.
He’d imagine the sounds- the wet slap of flesh, their pleas turning to moans as he stretched them wide, the guttural cries of labor birthing his kids. Left him dizzy, knowing he’d altered their very biology, left them marked forever, multiplying his line until the earth teemed with echoes of him.
But the SAS was a jealous mistress, chaining him to the grind of ops and ops alone, the ceaseless cycle of infil, exfil, and debriefs- all smothered the fire, turning it to embers.
Demolitions became his outlet, the boom of C4 a pale substitute for the explosive release of his fantasies. He’d channel it into the fight, but at night, alone in his bunk, the verse would whisper back, urging.
Until he saw you.
Soap clocked you instantly in that dim pub. You were sipping a drink, oblivious, but he saw it all in a flash: your body, perfect and primed, swelling grotesquely beautiful with his babies.
Hips widening to cradle multiples- twins, triplets- your skin taut over the mound he’d pump full night after night. Tits ballooning, leaking sweet milk he’d lap up while rutting into your drenched, pregnancy sensitized cunt. Those blue eyed kids clinging to you, more on the way, your womb never empty.
The intensity hit him like a gut punch, cock straining against his jeans as he pictured breeding you feral- tying you down if needed, flooding you until it took, over and over.
A smile curved his lips as he stood. But, he needed to be smart about this- he needed to charm you, take you home, eat you out so many times you were too fucked out to question not using a condom.
And if you did… well… first, before he approached you, Johnny ducked out back, fingers closing around the sewing kit in his vest as he did so.