it's really not common occurrence for you to be looking so small, so pitiful.
the worst part of it all being that you hadn't said anything about it, to either of your lovers. you've been toughing it out, simply brushing aside how you've been feeling.
last night after you'd gotten home from work, you looked uncharacteristically tired. once again pushed off to the side as fatigue and results of build up from the last few weeks.
they know you've been busy.
coming home later, staying up at home to finish or continue on work, getting calls early in the morning and later in the evening, even getting called in on weekends. suguru and kento, as they always do, did their best to take care of you. suguru made you your breakfast and lunches, kento baked your favourite goods, they worked together to help each other with making dinners. both doing their best to ensure you were eating breakfast (skipping meals in this household is intolerable, but breakfast especially. it is the most important meal in this household), reminding you to stay hydrated, gently pulling you away from your work when things get out of hand, pulling you into their arms and leading you to bed.
suguru had half a mind to show up to your place of employment and stick one of his expensive kitchen knives straight through the head of the one responsible for your stress.
a flat "no" came from kento's lips, as he continues to arrange a sandwich for you using bread hed just made, while awaiting the water to boil. suguru, who's sat at the counter, sticker covered lighter discarded nearby, his long dark hair falling down his back and over his shoulders. he deflates.
and it's comical.
"ok ok" raising his hands in surrender, "but what about, an anonymous phone call." he hums, not entirely pleased but satisfied with the counter offer he's provided. "hmm... what do you think? i'll be very very polite while telling that ass to back off our lover."
yes his voice was calm but man that poor cigarette trapped between his fingers, being squished harder and harder as he spoke. surrendering to the pressure of his thumb and fore finger, its nearly disfigured now. the way it bent out of shape a reflection of the emotions being felt by its torturous captor.
(suguru really is very bothered by all this.)
he turned to kento to look at him with those incredibly kind violet eyes of his, flashing a soft smile to the other man, with the small tilt of his head, "please."
he's good. really good.
now, just so we're clear, having the ethereal man that we have the pleasure to know as geto suguru, look at you oh so sweetly, to like at you like with eyes that would make you believe anything he'd say and do anything he'd ask. he's pleading, ever so sweetly, in that incredibly soft voice of his, there's a slight rasp to it from the cigarette that was beth's lip's earlier, and you have to then go on to reject him?
it was no easy task. a nearly impossible feat if we were being completely honest. this isn't even something worth trying to lie about.
kento, however, prides himself for having an incredible amount of self control. he can handle suguru.
he grabs the whistling kettle, the thick heavy watch that usually occupies the same is gone, his usual attire as well, swapped out for more comfortable clothing. kento fills the three mugs he'd set out earlier with the boiling water.
(mugs you guys made and painted for each other on a pottery date, they weren't perfect yours specifically, you hated when they use it. the one you'd made. but it was so so important to them.)
kento sweetened yours and his own with honey. suguru preferred his without. he took your mug and suguru's. handing suguru his with a kiss on the temple, "no." another to his nose, then his lips before he pulled away to look into his lovers eyes, softly speaking. he's just close enough to suguru's lips that he feels his breath, "that won't help anything at all." another kiss to his nose before he pulled away and went on to find you.
kento imagines your hunched over your desk, with a few candles going
(you've complain that the lights are too much. too bright. why would you need them anyway when you have two suns all to yourself.)
leaving behind him a flushed suguru watching his back profile, he's got to pull his eyes away from kento's form, turning his head towards the now empty kitchen space. mumbling a soft "ass" to himself as the hot tea he's sipping soothes his throat and warms his heart.
--
looking back, kento should've taken up suguru's thoughtful and frankly, far too kind proposal. anything anything over seeing you this way. anything over this.
the day started of beautifully, with kentowaking up on his precious day off to suguru's alarm. your sleeping form sandwiched between their warm bodies and the heap of blankets.
safe, soft, and warm.
the glow of the morning reflected on your face, as the two exchange sleepy smiles and the first kisses of the day. while, of course, remembering to pepper a few on your face as well. your temple, your eyelids, your hair, lips, nose, wherever. you're perfect everywhere to them. the two share one last kiss, before suguru is off to freshen up and prepare to head out for the day ahead.
you and kento would be home all day, and he figured you needed the extra sleep. gazing down at you with fond eyes, you looked serene. the traces of exhaustion still etched into your face, but they've been greatly softened by the rest you've gotten. you looked ethereal, hair practically formed a halo around your head.
it's difficult for him to look away. do people just look like that as they sleep? kento gets up to make suguru breakfast and pack his lunch while he's getting ready, the question still lingering in the back of his mind.
your still asleep after the last "see you later kiss" is shared at the door. looking over to the clock, kento is thinking he'll slip out to grab some ingredients for a nice dinner. after all his darling deserved only the best. he'd missed spending time with his lovers. time that wasn't plagued with exhaustion, when you all weren't drained or busied by one thing or another. a nice warm meal, his darlings and him, in your shared home. kento couldn't dream of a better evening if he tried. so he's getting changed himself, leaving you a note at the counter, and he's out the door.
when you wake, your incredibly cold and the there's a slight tremble you feel through out your body. the home was quite, missing the strong though comforting presence of your beloveds. your bones feel heavy, eyes still tired, and breathing felt far too difficult. despite having just woken up, you fee tired still, far from refreshed. and so you figure a cold shower would do you well, movements sluggish and heavy as you make your way to the bathroom.
fresh out of the shower and your still exhausted. you feel worn. to the bone. it's as if a flesh eating beast had just finished taking all that your body had to offer.
lifeless is how you feels right now.
so you slip on a shirt and a pair of your boyfriends boxers. your not sure whether it's kento's or suguru's before you make your way to bed. your still damp hair splays over the pillows, and the last thought you have before your drifting of i how upset suguru would be to see you treating the hair he cares for so meticulously in this way.
--
upon kento's return, he calls out to you. it's almost noon, you're likely up by now. closing the door behind him with his foot, strong arms busy holding groceries that would otherwise take multiple trips to carry in.
he calls again. still asleep? setting down the keys and and the groceries on the kitchen counter, he ventures further into the home to find you.
"y/n?" he finds you in bed still, letting out a breathe he didn't even realize was begin held in.
continuing into the room he notices your wearing different clothing , suguru's shirt sits inside out on your body. your cheeks flushed, and hair a damp mess on the satin pillow cases.
you're very flushed.
he's closer to you now, hearing that your breathing comes out as short and laboured. kento places one of his hands to your forehead to feel your temperature. his eyes go wide, your so hot.
you, suguru, and kento as well, are all the kind of people how cant quite handle being cared for and can't handle not caring for those you love. kento however thought he had the skill to detect when something was wrong, even when you'd do your best to camouflage it. he's never seen you like this. his hand moved form your forehead done to hold your own, usually cold hands. they're burning and it's a scary feeling for kento.
he felt himself start spiraling, his eyes started to wet, and his hands shaking. shit, this is not the time. what happen to self control. he doesn't have any. ugly thoughts of self doubt and guilt begin to swim around in his head, their speed escalates quick. because here you, are in bed, skin flushed, sweaty, and breathing heavy.
he reaches for phone to call suguru (the contact name in his phone is "sexy bangs." no that was not a dare from gojo. he did not do it because he thought it was cute, he did it because of gojo and his stupid dare and swore to change it the next day. though he never did.)
suguru picks up quick. before he could greet his lover, he hears him say words that make him freeze for a moment, eyebrows furrowed with worry and confusion, his body frozen in place.
"come home now. please. we need you."
"i'll be there. wait for me." always, nanami wanted to say "be quick" and be safe. and the call ended. your sweating now. kento thinks he might be too.
he takes your hand in his once more, holding it to his lips planting a soft kiss before bringing your hand close to his heart. like a wet kitten he'd find alone in the rain on a walk back home. hoping to provide you with some comfort. some refuge. some relief. and selfishly hoping to feel some too.
he's resting his head the edge of the bed now. it's just a cold most likely, a little bit of a fever. he knows that much, but still he's quietly praying your back up to your normal self soon. it's not really about the cold. he feels he's let you down. failed to see, to understand how you were feeling and if not to prevent it than to help fix it. there were signs. there must have been. there had to have been some, and still he missed every one. he's revisiting the past few weeks and finds himself overthinking and analyzing every little moment. what else could be ailing you that he hasn't picked up? something beyond physical symptoms. what about suguru? what if he's been feeling unwell and just hadn't said anything. what if kento failed to have catch on to the things he worries the most about. is he failing to be there for the most important people to him when you need him most? what a joke.
suguru gets home, frenzied. rushing in through the door, impatiently removing his shoes as he's calling out "kento!y/n!" a quick peek into the living room before hastily heading to the bedroom. suguru pushes the door open with far more force than necessary, his hair a mess and skin sweaty from the rush he was just in. he finds you, his only loves, worried eyes meeting with the blonde man's. his sweat turns ice cold and it's a mix of relief and greater worry. his eyes then shift to you, and he stumbles in, putting together the pieces best he can.
"shit. shitshit. is she okay. what happen" taking his place next to kento. one of his hands finds its way to your face, brushing the damp hair from your feverish skin. the other finds nanamis face. his thumb brushing his under eye ever so gently, before kissing away the tears that threaten to streak his face following the path left for them by their now dry predecessors. "she's warm", suguru speaks into kento's skin. hand moving from his face to the back of his head and tangling into his blonde hair. suguru brings the younger man closer to himself, to rest his head onto his firm chest and kento can't bring himself to resist.
"she'll be okay. a few days at most and it'll be gone." he reassures.
suguru is incredible at expertly concealing his own anxiousness and worry using the calm of his voice, kento crying was rare sight after all.
(ignoring the times you bring him just because flowers and making love, or when baked and burnt his favourite bread for his birthday as a surprise, or when you or suguru being a little too mean to him in bed, or-)
if there is anything suguru does not play about, it's the health and happiness of his beloveds. he shouldn't have consulted kento at all and just gone through with the stabbing. at least he shouldve made that phone call. suguru's hand is still on your face, stroking gently, as the other continues to hold kento close to his chest.
your eyes flutter open, eyes slowly adjusting to the light. the first thing you see is suguru and kento. kentos crying? you sit up immediately and move to comfort your lover. before you get there though, two pairs of disgustingly attractive eyes find you and you freeze. they looked worried.
worried and relieved. you look the same. mirroring their worry and your own confusion. suguru smiles at you softly, though it looks pained as he says, "don't worry love, we've just been worried. how long have you felt.." a pensive pause before he continues, just say it like it is he decides, "sick"
as soft as his voice is and despite the kind smile on his face, his words feel strangely menacing. it's hard to hold eye contact with him for too long, you feel small and the urge to flee crawls into your lungs. it's suffocating to breathe, so you hold your breathe. it's hard to hold the connection, so you look away. "not long" and god your throat hurts so much.
suguru figures he'll interrogate more later, for now he's focusing on tackling more pressing issues. "have you eaten anything today?" no response. he figured. he looks down at kento, still in his arms though eyes now fixated on you. he looked at you with relief. and so much guilt. his eyes reddened by the tears and lashes crumpled together, his lips a bright red from how he's chewing on them. you could feel cracks forming in your chest, the sound echoing off of your ribs.
kento felt like that because of you.
suguru interrupts you and kento when he asks that kento comes to help him in the kitchen. the younger man nods. suguru extends his hands to him and helps him up. both coming to you to plant a soft kiss on your temples. one in each side of your perfect, pink, face. you could feel the wetness on kentos cheeks when his lips meet your skin, along with it comes a painful churning in your gut. the two men leave the room and your left alone once more.
in the kitchen a variety of fruit rich in vitamin c is being cut and arranged in a plate for you by kento. the kettle is on for tea. suguru is putting away the groceries kento got earlier, leaving out and grabbing from the fridge the ones he'll use to make some soup. they work in silence, it's not tense or awkward, but the air is filled with something other than the usual ease that surrounds their silence.
kento is still in his head, cutting the fruit with far too little focus and far more force than needed. he's completely zoned out. the knife slips against the cutting board and slices through the meaty part of his hand. fuck, he blurts to himself under his breathe, dropping the knife while tryna save the fruit on the cutting board with his clean hand.
what the fuck was wrong with him today?
he's been different from his usual self, tasks that he weaved through with effortless grace, patience, and precision feel impossible. he's too far in his head and he knows it. cutting fruit for gods sake.
catching suguru's attention, who was previously occupied with the ingredients in his pot, he turns to see his lovers hand bleeding.
suguru moves quickly, he pulls kento's injured hand away from the cutting board and leads him to the sink where he runs cold water over it. he's about to turn to kento to ask what the fuck is wrong. cutting his hand? letting then knife slip? it's so unlike him it's frightening. as he's about to, he sees his lovers eyes beginning to wet once again, eyebrows furrowing and his lips caught between his teeth again and sugurus own lips quickly press themselves into a firm line.
not now, it's not what he needs now.
so he closes his eyes and releases a sharp exhale through his nose. purple eyes softening as they lock themselves on kento, who is doing his best to avert his gaze from the eyes of his lover and to hold himself together. he's ashamed. of himself. and admitting it to himself feels like a weight of his shoulders but it makes him feel so small at the same time. suguru's eyes make their way back to kento's hand before he closes the tap. the ribbons of red tinting the water as the flow down the drain make him feel a sick twisting pain in his stomach.
suguru's face looked calm, if you manage to ignore the deep furrow sat between his dark thin brows. he's quite as he ever so carefully wraps kentos hand in gauze. a stray hair falls out of its arrangement at the base of sugurus neck and kento can't stop himself from carefully tugging it away behind his pierced ear with the unharmed hand.
their eyes meet, its soft. and it stings a little. kentos filled with guilt and sugurus with poorly concealed concern. kento's eyes looking into suguru's, looking form one eye to the other, fitting in a not all that subtle glance to his lips meanwhile. kento is nervous, but places a gentle kiss on the lips for suguru. he's relishing in it, his eyes fluttering closed. its grounding.
suguru's hand going up to his ear to hold kento's, a soft kiss on the knuckles of kentos opposite hand is delivered before his hand is carefully flipped and a soft kiss lands on his bandaged palm.
suguru then gets up and returns to the kitchen, washing the bloodied knife and cutting board. suguru thinks about how the two of them have swapped positions from when he shared the plan to get rid of your stupid employer, with him now standing in the kitchen and kento sat at the counter.
the kettle is done by now so he pours the water into the three mugs kento had set out earlier. suguru picks up where kento left off with the arrangement of fruit before he organizes two mugs, both sweetened with honey, and the plate of cut fruit on a tray before sliding it towards kento. suguru leans his body weight down on the counter and smiles at kento,
"would you take that to our ailing princess please?"
kento takes the treat big his hands with a roll of his eyes. he's putting up a front, but it's okay if that's what he needs right now. suguru once again is the one watching kento's ass back profile as he walks towards you, and once he's disappeared from view, suguru lingers, just for a few moments more, still leaning on the counter top before he returns to his pot, sipping on his own mug of tea.
--
kento knocks once on the door to your shared bedroom, carrying the tray in his uninjured hand, before he allows himself in when you voice emerges from the other side. he's putting didn't need to, he knows that, but felt like he did in that moment.
he feels out of place doing everything today.
"hi"
"hey"
your voice was still hoarse and his doused in hot honey. his steps were are quiet as he makes his way into the room; he's the wet kitten now he thinks. setting the tray of fruit and tea down on the night stand once he reaches it. is hand coming up to feel your temperature once again, still warm. shattering the hope to feel that you've cooled down.
you notice that bandage on his hand, on impulse you take it in your own. your eyes look darting from his own and back to his hand.
he doesn't pull away and he doesn't move his hand, he doesn't even want to. his eyes focus on yours, though they aren't looking at him now.
he could never pull himself away from your touch (to be touched by you was a gift after all, one he will never allow himself to become entitledto)
"i brought you tea. oh, and some fruit"
what is he talking about? fruit? tea? all nice things but what about his the bandages covering his palm?
he grabs the tray from the nightstand with his other hand, placing it in his lap, and he takes a piece of the cut fruit and holds it to your mouth.
and you open up to receive it, chewing thoughtfully. the juices burn you as they navigate their way down your throat.
he feeds you another piece and another after that. then he takes hold of the mug, blows on the steaming liquid and he touches the ceramic to his lips to check the temperature for you, once satisfied he brings it your lips and asks you to drink slowly.
you have questions, but the nervousness is leaving you and so is the urgency to receive answers.
they'll come.
when he's holding the mug up to you lips for the nth time and some slips out of the bounds of your lips the warm liquid streaking your face as it makes it way down your chin. kento's thumb catches it and licks it away.
and it's an odd feeling that follows. the reassurance that this is your home. here with him, and him and with suguru.
the tray is back on the nightstand, the two mugs now emptied and the plate is too. your asleep again, your head resting on kentos warm lap this time. bandaged hand running through your hair, and the feeling of dread that was so prevalent is leaving him slowly, with each stroke of his hand through your hair his chest felt lighter.
suguru peaks into the room, his hair now in a low bun at the base of his neck. he has clips in his hair, the glittering colorful kind he might be teased for by a certain blue eyed friend. they were a gift from some young girls once when he was volunteering at the elementary school one time.
his heart warms at the sight.
your head in kento's lap, bandaged hand in you hair and his glasses are perched low on his nose. how cute. kento's eyes aren't so red anymore, his eyes instead focused on reading the paperback book in his hand on a voice he can't hear from where he stands, he's sure you can though, even in your deepest sleep. he had a voice that was difficult to ignore after all.
suguru slips into the room and kento's eyes leave the words on the page, golden brown eyes quickly located the always welcome intruder. suguru smiles at him and kento returns it. he's about to close the book. to put it away when,
"will you read to me too?"
suguru's form next to those of his lovers, head resting on kentos lap, right next to yours. he touches his lips to your forehead, your still warm, but it'll pass.
a reassuring thought but an honest one.
there you all are, comfortably curled into each other as you rest in kento's lap. his low voice filling the room as he reads, the scent of suguru's cooking wafts through the house following in suit,
and this, well this is your home.
yours to love, yours to care for, yours to be cared for.
You had been at Roman’s side most of the night, watching as the drinks disappeared one after the other. He held his liquor well. Aside from being a slightly more energetic in his actions, he didn’t seem affected at all.
But the night had gone downhill fast. Kendall disappeared in tears, and Roman had been brooding ever since. The treehouse emptied out substantially after the incident between them, while music still throbbed and drinks kept coming. Tom and Greg still lingered, along with you and Roman, who sat curled in a chair with a drink in his hand.
“Who wants to fight me?” Roman said.
“Ask Greg,” said Tom. “He loves fighting people. We fight all the time.”
“That’s not true,” Greg protested. “I don’t love violence.”
“Then I choose Tom. Fight me.”
“No thanks. I’ll leave that to Shiv.”
“For fuck’s sake. Doesn’t anyone want to smack me around?”
“I’ll fight you.”
When they realized you had spoken, everyone turned to you in surprise. Roman’s face, however, showed sheer delight.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 my monthly update <3 sincerely i would reply to requests if they werent so against what ive put in my rules! since no ones reading my rules just letting you know i dont write fucking incest. thanks >_<
you’ve been doing this for a long time now – mercernary work, and you’re good at it.
kill or be killed.
staring out of the window, you eye the pretty birds circling the street. they’re dancing and they’re singing, boasting about how great their lives are compared to yours. you don’t mind.
a child laughs somewhere down below. cars drive by, a motorcycle, a bike. it’s never quiet, it really never is. but the sounds get more muffled with every floor you climb, and now here on the tenth one, it’s not too bad. this is where you’re staying for the duration of the job; rented under a fake name, the apartment is a studio one. the windows are big and the ceilings are high – it’s perfect for your little spy work.
it’s all just human nature.
6’3, snow-white hair, azure blue eyes, muscular, with scars littered all over his body. the pride of the gojo clan and the first person to inherit both the limitless and the six eyes in four hundred years.
satoru gojo.
your mark.
he’s got quite the hefty price on his head, a lot of people want him gone from this world; he’s too strong, he’s too powerful – everything would be better, if he disappeared. you're just here for the paycheck though.
you’ve been observing him for five days now. with your eyes, with your ears. you’ve followed him through a shopping mall, watching him try on just about a hundred different outfits in about ten different stores. the man is well dressed, other than the outfit he likes to wear at home of course. a pyjama set – it’s white and pink with some kind of a cartoon character on the front of it. cute.
through the scope of the sniper rifle, you watch him live his life. he laughs with the servants in his fancy apartments, he makes jokes with the men that stand guard all day long. he likes to play video games and he likes to watch movies, he likes to work out, he likes to drink pink-colored milkshakes. he can’t sleep. he tosses and turns around in his bed at the early hours of the day, his eyes glued to the ceiling as if that’s going to help. sometimes, he paces around the room. sometimes, he does pushups. but none of it seems to work.
you see him yawn and you see the dark bags under his eyes.
he seems lonely.
it doesn’t matter.
(you are the same.)
he walks through his apartment with his head held up high, he waves the maids good night and they return the gesture with smiles. they seem genuine, and it’s a little hard to believe – this isn’t your first rich guy, your first pampered little boy, who doesn’t even realize what his life means. he doesn’t know what the word ‘work’ stands for, he doesn’t know what it means to survive. you’ve seen how people like him usually treat their servants, how they flinch at the smallest moves.
not with him though.
the air seems relatively light. you haven’t spotted a single tear or a frown from the people who work for him, they’re all seemingly having a blast. it’s interesting. perhaps he isn’t the prick everybody makes him seem to be, hm?
not that you care.
a ridiculously big number floats above his head and you don’t care. you need to live, too.
while he’s now alone in the apartment, you know for a fact there are two guards standing in front of the door and there are three of them down in the lobby. you can see one of them conversing with the doorman just now.
your eyes trail back up the building, the lit up windows and the blurry bodies that hide behind the curtains. he’s different; not once throughout the whole five days you’ve been here has he tried to shield himself from the world. not once has he tried to make your job any harder.
you can’t tell whether it’s arrogance or naivety. you’re leaning toward the former.
there’s a grin on his face.
hm.
what’s he up to now? a jerk-off session? that wouldn’t be new. or maybe he just remembered a witty remark he forgot to tell one of his maids. or is he’s just thinking about eating that ice cream he bought just yesterday? no, it's something else.
as a mercanary, you have to learn how to balance rational thinking and gut instinct. they’re both delicate things, they can change more than you’d ever assume and you have to accept that it’s important to listen to both. right now, your brain is telling you that this is just another night at the gojo apartment. he will watch a film and he’ll eat cereal and he’ll do some pull-ups and then he’ll try to sleep. but there’s this sinking feeling in your lower stomach.
and it only spreads as his smile widens.
he’s right there in your sights, handsome as ever, with your finger now resting on the trigger.
enough.
inhale.
but your breath hitches when he suddenly goes to grab his phone; standing in front of the window, he rests his hand on his hip while bringing the little piece of technology to his ear. it's definitely arrogance. you think of the money, you think of the life you could have. it’s just another job, it’s nothing personal. he doesn’t seem happy anyway. you’re doing him a favour.
it’s a dog-eat-dog world.
it takes almost no force at all to pull the trigger. you’re used to it.
exha—
your phone rings.
blinking into the scope, you try to stay on the middle ground between logic and instinct. he’s not the one calling. he isn’t. stop panicking. adrenaline pumps in your veins but you can’t look away. you feel eyes everywhere around you. you feel sick. he isn’t the one calli—
your phone rings again.
and you watch him raise his hand from his hip to point at his own as he stares right at you.
he’s across the street. he’s so far – you’re looking at him through a fucking scope, he cannot see yo—
ah... so, that’s how the six eyes really work, huh.
alarms blare in your mind. just pull the fucking trigger. the tiny crosshair is set on his forehead.
shoot him.
the corners of his eyes crinkle.
take the fucking shot.
he has dimples.
your hand reaches for your phone without you even realizing it.
"why are you taking so long?" he sounds giddy, he sounds fucking excited. "i'm bored out of my mind here, angel. c'mon– "
hmm… do u guys ever think about how gojo genuinely has like no friends out of jujutsu high ? like the closest thing to a friend he has is nanami but even then it’s a strictly work thing that barely ever crosses to outside of work …
i feel like if he dated a non sorcerer and you would go and hang out with your friends without him he’d be texting you so often bored out of his mind wondering what you were up to,,, especially if you had a best friend
“I’m hanging with ___ today” you’d tell him, and small pout would already be on his lips as he told you ‘okay.’ I think it’d slip his mind all day, asking if you wanna go do this or that and you’d remind him you already had plans with your best friend.
he’d sigh dramatically, only slightly exaggerating how he felt. he would never tell you though, the last thing he wanted was to be the reason you don’t talk to your friends anymore.
satoru would message you when you left, wondering what you were doing. his mind would wander and suddenly the show he’d been wanting to watch was extremely boring. he’d spend the entire time thinking abt how happy you must be right now.
he wonders if he’ll ever get the chance to be happy with friends again, if he’ll ever make the effort to have friends.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 my monthly update <3 sincerely i would reply to requests if they werent so against what ive put in my rules! since no ones reading my rules just letting you know i dont write fucking incest. thanks >_<
turnnoffyourmind
prguitarman
gummygunk
