#this is sHIT pls lets plot anyway

[reidrum]

wine or wine not | s.r

spencer reid x bau!reader

a/n: i think i love writing buildup to smut than actual smut, but i hope you guys like this lmk what you think. this was requested with the prompts "look at me when you come on my fingers" and "muttering compliments kissing down their body" and it was so much fun to write aaaaahh, my requests are open so please send more!!! guidelines in pinned <3

summary: you're hopelessly pining after spencer at a rossi party, and when you run into him in the kitchen when you're getting a refill and he asks if you want to explore the mansion with him, who are you to say no?

cw: 18+ minors dni pls, fingering, p in v, nipple play, soft!dom!spence, spencer being ridiculously hot its criminal, ooc penelope but it was for the plot, pining idiots, wine cellar sex wine cellar sex wine cellar sex, public sex, morgan and prentiss being dumb, rossi being a smug lil shit, a dumb ass title sorry i didn't know what else to name it lol

wc: 4.1k

★・・・・★・・・・★・・・・★・・・・★

these days rossi was always finding some reason to throw a party at his mansion. you’re not exactly sure what it was tonight, a birthday? an anniversary? regardless, you and the team appreciated the excuse to unwind, dress up, and have non murder related fun.

the sun is setting over the rolling hills the mansion is perched on, and you’re sat at a table with the girls— penelope, jj, and emily discussing penelope’s latest dating escapade. you’re trying hard to pay attention, you really are, but it proves to be difficult when you’re focused on the man showing magic tricks to the kids across the room.

you look on yearnfully as spencer pulls a coin from jack’s ear, all the kids are laughing and cheering and he has the biggest smile you’ve ever seen.

“hellooo?” penelope waves a hand in front of you dramatically, “i’m getting to the good part and you’re off in space!”

you jolt back to the present, “sorry pen, i’m listening i promise. so he shows up to your door with maple syrup and feathers?”

“YES, anyways so then he’s like i have a proposition for you…” penelope continues her story but you can’t help but zone out again. your eyes drift back to boy genius as he finishes another trick for little henry before rising up to his full height. it’s in that moment his eyes meet yours and softens as he offers you a small wave. 

you return the gesture back which causes the girls at your table to look in the same direction and they come to a glaring conclusion too quickly.

“ah, that’s why you’re not paying attention. too busy ogling mr. houdini over there.” jj remarks.

“i am not!” you scoff.

“oh you so are,” emily says, “when are you going to let yourself feel your heart’s full content.”

“first of all, i can’t stand you. second of all, it’s not worth it. he would never feel the same about me.” you say as emily rolls her eyes.

this time penelope interjected, “oh don’t be so cynical. you haven’t even tried how could you even know?”

but you did know. it’s not that spencer didn’t like you, he treated you the same as any team member, but that was just it. you wanted him to see you as more. during cases you would try to impress him or make breakthroughs in the hopes he would tell you ‘good job’. a couple times you brought him coffee when you got yours, just to hear him say your name and thanks. work conversations rarely seemed to move past small talk, but you’re a little sure that’s on your part because he just made you so nervous. and like, he’s a profiler. so you’re sure to some degree he knows how you feel, and it just makes you regress into your safe hole even further because you think he’s being nice by not acknowledging it and saving you the embarrassment.

the girls knew about your harbored crush for a month now, since the last bau drinks night you got a little too truthful during truth or dare. you were much younger in comparison to your colleagues, so they offered their sympathies at your unrequited love and tried to get you to come out more and let loose.

which is one of the reasons you’re sitting in rossi’s living room, wine glass in hand, as morgan recounts the craziest date hes ever been on. the other reason, which you wouldn’t admit to anyone, was so you could admire your (not) lover from an acceptable distance and not risk embarrassing yourself.

so here you are, two glasses deep, rising up from your spot on the floor telling everyone you’re going to get a refill. your heels click against the hardwood floors all the way to the kitchen where you just so luckily run into the (your) man of the hour.

“hi.”

you were looking down at your feet as you walked to the kitchen, your head snapping up to meet the voice, “hi spencer.” you said softly.

“if you’re looking for more wine, i think emily just grabbed the last bottle,” you must have outwardly deflated as he continued, “that bad out there?”

“only so much wine can get me through penelope’s sexcapades and derek’s crazy one night stands.” you joke.

he chuckles back, “oh i know, why do you think i’m hiding out in here?”

you laugh again before an uncomfortable yet strangely comfortable silence falls between you both. unknowingly you both take turns gazing at each other, indexing the others features as if this moment would be the only chance you got.

you’re about to take your loss and leave when spencer speaks up again, “you know, i wouldn’t put it past rossi to have a secret wine cellar somewhere.”

“honestly, you’re probably right. what kind of italian just runs out of wine.”

spencer pauses slightly before saying, “do you want to see if we can find it?”

you look at his eyes again and catch a glint of mischief? concern that you’re wine-less? whatever it is, you take the bait.

“i’m game.”

—

rossi’s mansion was humongous. it was well known that he was loaded from his years in the bureau and multiple book deals, but holy shit, the rooms just seemed never ending, and none of them were a wine cellar.

“i don’t know spence, i'm starting to lose hope, and debating to revoke rossi’s italian card.”

you’re both in one of the many studies and are about to leave to find another room, when spencer notices a smaller door next to the study. he slowly opens it and peaks inside to find a descending wooden staircase. he looks at you with a smirk, “i think we just found it.”

he holds the door open and gestures you to enter first, following shortly behind you as he shuts the door. he makes sure to check that it’ll still open even after it’s shut, and you both relax a little seeing it still unlock. you move down the stairs, gripping the handrail and praying you don’t trip over your heels and fall to an embarrassing demise.

spencer descends a step behind you, trying so hard not to let his eyes wander down your bare back to the curve of your hips. once he steps off you both go in opposite directions to explore. you take in the vast amount of shelves and wine racks, taking note of how it seems to be separated by year and by type. running your fingers over the labels, you’re intrigued by a shelf with the year you were born, and pause in front of it. you reach up to a shelf that is just a smidge taller than you, hoping to grab the neck of an old wine bottle.

even in your heels you’re struggling, attempting little hops to try and reach. you’re about to give up when you feel a warm hand on your right hip, while an outstretched arm on your left seamlessly grabs the bottle and brings it down to you, “careful sweetheart, don’t wanna break that pretty head of yours.” spencer says lowly.

excuse me, what the fuck did he just say.

you inspect the bottle he so kindly brought down for you, but it’s a futile effort. you can’t even remember why you wanted to see it. all you can think about is your hands clamming up, sending threats to the wine bottle it’s holding. your mind is fogging up fast, and you’re trying to order your brain to say something instead of going mute while he’s still an inch behind you. with his hand on your hip still.

“oh god,” you start shakily, “you scared me spence.” you angle your body to the left so you can attempt to show how unbothered you are and look at his face.

good save (not).

he’s staring down at you with a hint of a smirk on his lips, like he’s keeping a secret from you. his eyes are intently focused on you when he speaks again, “just didn’t want you to get hurt. s’all.”

with his close proximity, you’re sure he can hear your heart beating through both of your chests, hell it was so loud they could probably hear it upstairs. he’s still got you caged in front of him when he continues, “any particular reason for this bottle?”

“yeah no, i just, wanted to see what bottles of wine he had from the year i was born.” you answer, watching as spencer moves back to give you space when you turn to face him.

he nods, “did you know that wine is associated with the greek god dionysus?”

“no i didn’t, actually.”

“it’s really interesting,” he moves forward a tiny inch, “they call him the patron god of wine, but a lot of people often forget that he’s also the god of fertility and ecstasy.”

oh. “ecstasy?” you whisper confusingly.

“yes, he believes when you drink wine it gives you emotional and physical pleasure.”

“how does that even work?” you nervously laugh.

spencer reaches his arm above your head, never breaking eye contact, and grabs two wine glasses by their stems, “you wanna find out?”

with only so many words, you give another nod. he uncorks the bottle with ease and pours out two glasses, with his having a little less than yours, most likely due to his slow but steady return to drinking casually. clinking your glasses, you take a big gulp hoping it’ll satiate the building nerves. but you’re watching the way his fingers wrap around the glass, his veiny hand showing prominently and you’re unable to focus on anything else.

“you know, i’ve been running something of an observation the last few months.”

you take another small sip, starting to feel less nervous, “oh yeah, what about?”

“you.”

it took everything in you not to spit your drink out all over his suit. 

“me?”

he nods after another sip, “i’ve been watching you, and not in a creepy way i swear. but i’ve been keeping track of your habits; how you take your coffee, your tells when a case gets too much, things like that,”

that didn’t seem overtly terrible to you, you knew spencer was an observer of his environment, always seeking out patterns to aid his predictions. you’re about to speak when he cuts you off.

“i’ve also been noticing how you seem to change, when i’m in your presence.”

you feel like the sweat and nerves are just oozing out of you at this point, and he continues his verbal taunt.

“i’ve seen your breathing rate get faster,” he moves a step forward, “how your cheeks rise with the faintest red, kind of like right now,” another step forward, “and how you try to avoid looking directly at me because you think i’ll find out everything if you do.”

the room has to be at least a thousand degrees at this point, heart beating so fast it’s probably gone to the moon, and your brain just unable to have any coherent thoughts at the realization that maybe you weren’t as subtle as you thought.

he takes one final step to close the gap between you and delicately places two fingers on the pulse point of your neck, “i couldn’t figure out your heart rate from afar,” he pauses to count, “but now that i know it, i can come to my conclusion.”

the air in your lungs has all but escaped, nowhere to be found. “and wh- what is your conclusion d- doctor reid?” your voice betraying you by dripping with anticipation.

“that i make you nervous. do you agree? do i make you nervous?” he says while you feel the hot breath of his whispers ghosting on your lips.

your mouth opens to say something and then shuts, because what the hell are you supposed to say? any and all logic has left the room, but the last working neuron works to make an unthinkable conclusion of your own. there is no way.

spencer moves his fingers to grip your chin between them, guiding your face to look directly into his copper eyes, “i asked you a question angel, do i make you nervous?”

you’re cornered, “y- yes.”

“why’s that?”

“spencer..”

“is it because you’re thinking of me the same way i think i about you?” his thumb starts tracing the outline of your lower jaw. he’s pressed right up against your chest, his other arm covertly moving to snake around your waist. the way you lean in subconsciously towards him, paired with your silence is all the confirmation he needs.

the pad of his thumb traces your lower lip, dragging it downwards a little. there’s a hitch in his breath when his eyes flicker from your lips back up to meet your eyes again. he quietly mumbles, “can i?”

your eyes widen slightly, relishing in the way his arms are holding you firm and steady. this was about to really happen. you’d been pining after him all this time, believing you were destined for unrequited love. but as spencer stands in front of you, looking at you as if he’d been poisoned and the only antidote is your lips, you can’t help but wonder if there’s been a similar weight on his side that’s been holding him back too.

so you nod once again, and trust your voice this time, 

“yes.”

you’re fully expecting him to go into it full force, and kiss you like a man starved. but he lets the premonition bubble for a little longer as he so agonizingly leans down and closes the gap, teasing you with the ghost of his lips on yours without making contact. he waits a moment, and just as he predicted your subconscious betrays you again and you impatiently lean up in an attempt to meet your lips together. spencer can’t help but smile before he softly pressed himself against you.

the feeling of his mouth on yours is something you can only describe as cosmic, like a star exploding into a supernova, emitting a powerful and luminous show of energy. it’s all consuming, the light reaching every neuronal end of your body and electrifying it ten times over. your hands reach up to tangle in his curly hair and he lets out the faintest whimper, spurring you on to grab it more earnestly.

spencer loses all restraint. his hands begin furiously mapping out your body, running up and down your back, reaching down to grasp a handful of your ass. he moves his hands down further to grip your thighs, effortlessly lifting you to sit on the counter behind you. spencer slots himself between your legs and continues kissing you, his mouth marking a hot trail to your neck as he mutters between, “is this okay?”

“please don’t stop.” you moan softly.

his fingers move to deftly slide the straps of your dress off your shoulder, mirroring the movement on the other side while continuing to work his down your neck. he slides the dress far enough down to expose your chest, immediately taking the swollen nub into mouth and running circles around it with his tongue. you let out a sharp gasp at the sudden warmth, whimpers leaving your throat. he repeats the motion to the other one as you cradle his head closer in an attempt to keep him there, as if spencer had any plans of leaving.

he moves his mouth back up to meet yours again, in a lust filled attack sending shock waves straight to your core. you move your fingers to work the buttons of his dress shirt and spencer moves his hand further south and under the hem of your dress, something you don’t notice until his thumbs are rubbing circles onto the plush of your inner thighs. it makes you falter on his last button as he pushes your legs farther apart,  inches closer to where you desperately need him.

spencer looks directly into your eyes as his thumbs reach up to hook onto the side of your panties and slowly move them down your legs. he groans outwardly at the resistance caused by your slickness, “all this for me, baby?”

you’re rendered speechless watching spencer and his ministrations but he continues, “you are so goddamn beautiful, you know that?” his fingers are less than an inch away from your cunt, “i see you walk around the office in those tight pants, your hair and makeup all done, and those blouses jesus,” he reaches your entrance and dives in to collect your wetness, you brokenly moan as he begins to spread it all over. “couldn’t tell if you hated me for the longest time.”

“c- could never hate you.” you whine.

“i know baby,” he slides his middle finger into your hole, “just imagine the fun we could’ve had if we figured this out earlier. but it’s okay, we have all the time now.” he sets a steady rhythm before inserting his ring finger, actively working you towards a barreling orgasm.

“spencer, fuck, oh god.”

“you’re so fucking wet, bet you’re gonna come soon, right? gonna make a mess on my hand?” he baited.

you’re in shambles, one hand deathly squeezing onto one shoulder the other turning white from the grip you held on the counter. the moans won’t stop falling out of you, he works his fingers so skillfully within you it’s impossible to hold any resolve when he curves upwards and hits that spot.

your head tilts back, reeling from the intense pressure coil building inside you, the peak about to hit you any moment now. spencer uses his free hand to move your head back down, “look at me when you come on my fingers.”

that was all it took for the white hot to ravage through you, engulfing every sense and leaving you breathless. he continues moving his fingers through your orgasm, watching as you come back down to him. you don’t waste a second reaching for his belt to unfasten it, slipping your hand down to palm him through his boxers. he moans in your ear as he feels you slip inside, your small hand moving up and down, and getting impossibly harder when you take your hand back up to spit on it to then return to your movements.

you take the moment to lean into his neck and leave bites of your own, finding his sweet spot right behind his ear and sucking hard. spencer’s hands have taken a spot on your lower back beneath your dress, pressing so hard with his fingertips you know there’ll be evidence of this night tomorrow.

“spence..” you mutter in the crook in the neck.

“yeah baby?” he whispers back.

“can you fuck me now?”

he preens at your boldness, and wastes no time pulling his pants and boxers down enough to fully free himself. he pulls you closer to the edge of the counter before pulling his length out and giving it a few strokes. he lets it glide between your folds, gathering your wetness as lubricant as it hits your clit. both of you are panting hard realizing the anticipation has led to this moment. spencer positions himself at your entrance, never breaking eye contact with you, and watches your face drop into a perfect ‘oh’ as he pushes in.

spencer is absolutely wrecked as he hears your breathing pick up, reveling in the vice grip your cunt has on him. you’re no better above him as you’ve broken eye contact to stare at where the two of you connect, watching as he disappears into you and the feeling of being so full overtakes you and you’re letting out soft expletives. he bottoms out and stalls for a minute, waiting for you to signal that you’re okay for him to move. in the time he’s waiting, he takes a moment to really look at your face, how absolutely ruined you look, your cheeks are deeply flushed, hair flying in every direction, and he can’t help but tell you, “you look so pretty.”

your eyes soften as you gaze back at him and nod slightly, and he pulls back all the way to ease in again experimentally. once he hears you moan out loud at the movement, and feels you tighten even more around his cock, he loses any and all restraint he’d been holding onto this entire night.

his hips pick up the pace in harsh snaps to your core, sending ripples of pleasure all over you. your arms are wrapped around his neck attempting to pull him impossibly closer to you, “spencer…fuck…” you drawl with a whine.

“i got you baby, gonna take good care of you, promise,” he says back in between grunts. the sentiment causes you to squeeze on his cock again as he attempts to continue, “if you keep…fuck…keep squeezing me like that i’m n- not gonna last long.”

one hand in his hair and the other leaving dark red scratches on his back, you feel your second orgasm of the night hastily creep up on you. he can tell you’re close and quickens his pace as he thumbs your clit. you moan his name out once more before reaching your peak, feeling like your body is on fire as he continues to fuck you through it. 

spencer feels his own release building up, “wh- where should i..?”

“inside, i’m on the pill just please come inside me.”

it was more than enough for spencer’s movements to stutter as he released his hot load in you, groaning out loud as he finished.

he slows to a half, still hilted inside of you but softening post orgasm. you’re both breathing heavily as you look up at each other and take in the other’s fucked out faces. spencer presses a chaste kiss to your forehead before resting his own on it, “that was..”

“intense,” he quirks his eyebrows at you, “in a really really good way.” you add quickly.

he smiles down at you, “i wasn’t kidding, what i said earlier. i think about you an embarrassingly high amount each day. i’d love to take you out and make this a real thing.”

“yeah?” you gape incredulously, “thought i was the one embarrassing myself if you were able to notice all those things i did when you were near me.”

he laughs, “no, no it was endearing, definitely made it easier to be as forward as i was tonight knowing you wouldn’t freak out.”

you’re about to respond when you hear the door to the cellar open, you’re both hidden from view but know it’s only a matter of seconds before someone catches you. you both look at each other in panic as spencer pulls out of you, tucking himself back in and zipping up his pants. you grab your panties from the floor and begin to pull them up your legs when he notices his come dripping down your thighs. he swiftly gathers the release on his fingers and shoves it back inside you, causing you to let out a near pornographic moan as he pulls up your underwear all the way.

“did you guys hear that?” a voice sounding like emily said.

“see this is why i don’t do big houses like this, too many creepy ass noises.” morgan.

“mansion,” rossi corrects, “and for a couple of profilers, you both are stupid if you don’t know what that sound was.”

your eyes widen to match spencer’s, you’ve been caught.

“was it a mouse or something?”

“no more like, bunnies,” he joked with an innuendo, “come on, i found the bottle i was looking for, let the bunnies do their thing so they can leave and go home to do whatever it is bunnies do.”

“you’re a weird old man david…” emily muttered.

the door closes and you both let out a big breath, and burst into a fit of laughter, “how the hell are we gonna show our faces to him on monday?” you whine.

“that is a monday us problem,” he starts, “but right now, i think it’s time for me to take you home.” he winks.

two stuffed bunnies show up on yours and spencer’s desk on monday. you’re both redder than a tomato as rossi chuckles when he walks by. prentiss and morgan are still confused.

[omgeto]

☆ WHEN YOU HAVE SEX WITH YOUR PROFESSOR — NANAMI, TOJI, GETO, GOJO.

summary: you have sex with your professor. for many different reasons.

wc: 4.2k (each of these were meant to be 500 words long so idk what happened)

cw: smutty smut afab!reader who's in university, mutual masturbation, spanking, semi public sex, toji is not a professor but a gym coach who rails you in a supply closet, but theres a lot of sex on a lot of desks so mdni.

an: theres actually a smidge of plot in this just a tiny bit if you do a deep squint, but the smut id personally say is my best yet. so give it a chance people, but come for the smut stay for the dialogue. hope you enjoy! not proofread ignore mistakes pls

☆ NANAMI

nanami kento, was the strictest teacher you have ever had. you couldn’t get away with your usual tricks that you did with some of your other professors — strutting past their office during office hours in your skimpiest clothes to get a better grade. it was as if nanami was immune to all your devices.

but with a big exam coming up, you knew you had to make something happen since studying was not your forte. so you were prepared to do anything to get that A.

“come in," his deep voice calls from inside.

as you enter his office, you are met with the sight of your professor, his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, reviewing a stack of papers. he glances up at you briefly before returning his attention to his work.

"what can I help you with?" he ask, his tone professional.

“i wanted to see if we could talk about the exam you set for us tomorrow,” you start to say, his eyes still focused on his papers, not sparing you a glance. “i was thinking we could figure out a way for me to get extra credit… sir.” 

you had his attention now. technically you’ve always had his attention — yes nanami was different to all the other professors you’ve ever had but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t a man at the end of the day. 

he always noticed the way you’d sit in his classroom, your pouty mouth always gnawing at your pencil as you never had a clue what was going on. nanami always had to hide his dick feeling tight in his trousers whenever you walk into his classroom. little did you know that you actually would’ve failed his class a long time ago, but because he just couldn’t let go of the sight of how your pretty tits bounce everytime you raise your hand, he always made you pass. 

“well what are you willing to do for that extra credit?” he says, his tone slightly amused.

“whatever you want” you respond a bit too eagerly, you were coming onto him hard. but it was working, you could already see the crack in his usual stoic facade. “c’mon professor nanami, i need to pass this class,” you practically beg. 

“oh yeah, you definitely need to pass this exam, you’re one more failed exam to flunking my whole class,” he affirms — lying through his teeth. “so i think you should come sit up here, and show me what you’re willing to do huh.”

suddenly, you start to feel nervous. usually you’d have control of the situation, you’d flaunt your ass, fuck your teacher and get an A, easily. but this time, you could see in nanami’s eyes that from when you entered his office — that he was running the show.

you saunter over his desk, and he pushes his seat back allowing you to have room to perch on his desk in front of him. “take off your shirt,” he commands, and you’re quick to fling off your top — that was barely covering anything anyways, “wow no bra, why am i not surprised.” he stares at your hardened nipples smirking as he continues to say, “you know i see your nipples peeking at me through your shit all the time in class.”

“really?” you question coyly.

“you don’t think i see how you practically fuck yourself in your seat when i’m doing a reading,” he continues, his arms folding as if he was telling you off, “a bit disrespectful, right?”

“no i-it’s just i really like the sound of your voice,” you stammer, embarrassed at him calling you out. you couldn’t deny that your professor was hot, everybody thought so and you hated school the only thing that got you through your classes was your day dreams of him fucking you.

“oh really, well i wanna see you get off to it for real this time.”

“wha—”

“touch yourself,” he demands with a grin, “fuck yourself on your fingers, put on a show for me,” he loosens his tie, and unbuttons his cuffs, ready to watch you perform for him, “and if you do well, then we could talk about your extra credit.”

you take off your pants, your hands moving directly to your throbbing pussy — since of course you had no panties on. you press your thumb down on your clit as your fingers work their way into your cunt. you were already soaked, just from hearing your professor speak to you, so it was easy to slide your digits in and out of you. 

nanami’s grin grows wider, loving the way your work your pussy,  “you not gonna play with your tits?” and you take his hint, your other hand sliding up to cup one of your boobs, your fingers pinching and pulling at your nipples. “good girl,” he praises.

you add another finger inside of you, writhing down hard on his desk against your digits. you quicken your pace, rubbing your thumb vigorously against your clit. his gaze on you served as an encouragement, your ultimate goal was shifted, at this point you didn’t care whether he passed or failed you — you just wanted to put on a good show for him.

“you gonna cum for me?” he taunts, the sound of your pussy squelching around your fingers as you drive them in is like music to his ears. you barely even noticed him fisting his dick, stroking it hard — matching the pace of your fingers hammers your cunt.  “you gonna make a big mess for me all over my desk?”

“professor i-” you whine, wanting more than just your own fingers inside of you, “please i need—”

“professor? what was it that you called me earlier?” he teases, “remind me of that and then maybe i’ll give you what you’re begging for.”

“s-sir please,” you sputter, barely being able to string a sentence together. you could feel you were about to cum hard. your fingers were still drilling into your pussy, and your hands were still suctioned on your tit and nanami's dick was taunting you. “i need you.”

“you need me hmm?” he mocks, his eyebrow tilting as he stares at your fucked out face.

“yeah p-please i need your dick,” you beg, your pussy was gushing all over your fingers, as your strokes got sloppier, “i need you i-in me.”

“oh really?” he asks with a smirk, a slight chuckle as you nod eagerly, “well too bad.”

“wha—”

“you really thought i’d put my dick in a slutty student that’s not even smart enough to even pass my class?” he lectures, he tuts his teeth, shaking his head, “now finish off for me and leave office hours end in a few minutes.”

“f-fuck,” you moan out, you could barely even process his words, too busy focused on cumming all over your fingers to think about how he just denied you of what you really wanted, your hand falls off your tit, your head jerking back as your release over his desk. he’s quick to cum too, biting down on his fist to surpress the loud moan threatening to come out

“you really made a mess for me huh,” he observes, swiping his fingers across the pool of cum you left on his desk and bringing it into his mouth, “sweet.” you were at a loss for words, you were just coached through one of the best orgasms you ever had from your professor — and he didn’t even touch you — yet you still don’t know whether he’s gonna pass you or not.

“so about that exam…?” you voice trails, as you put back on your shirt, hopping of his desk.

“i’ll think about it, sit the exam first and i’ll see what i can do,” his voice turns serious, and he nods his head in the direction for you to leave indicating for you to get up out of his office. but just before you're about to leave the room he calls out to you, “oi.”

“thanks for the live show.” 

☆ TOJI 

“why do we always have to fuck in such awkward spaces,” you complain nearly tripping on a basketball as toji holds you upright.

“you know you love it baby,” he smirks, pressing a kiss to your cheek, thrusting up into you further. 

you were in the gym supply closet, having your weekly sex with your university's gym teacher. you don’t even know how your little routine came about but once he started to hammer into you every friday after basketball practice, you’ve never missed a meet up.

“don’t call me that,” you groan out at the use of his pet name.

“why not?” he grumbles, cupping your tits with his hands as he stands behind you, “aren’t you students s’pposed to listen to your teachers and all that.”

you take a sharp inhale as his large hands smother your boobs, his thick things toy with your nipples, “but y-you aren’t a real teacher, in case you forgot.”

“am too,” he mutters like a child.

“a-are not,” you spit back just as childishly.

“am, too,” he persists, thrusting into you hard. pushing you down by your nape, forcing your hands to grip onto some random gym apparatus. he uses his foot to spread your legs apart wider so he can fit right behind you. fucking into you with something to prove.

“you teach gym to a bunch of brain dead j-jocks, wouldn’t say that classifies as being an actual professor toji.” you continue riling him up, biting your lip as his hammers into you harder. “you’re more like a glorified personal trainer than a teacher.”

he drives into you deeper, “oh and your just an uppity bitch, who still ended up fucking this ‘personal teacher,’ in a gym closet,” his mouth moves close to your ear, as he whispers, “so what does that say about you baby?” he presses a kiss underneath your ear lobe, before lightly sucking on it.

his words go straight to your core, him calling you an ‘uppity bitch’ had the exact effect he intended them to have — you throwing  your ass on his dick, fucking him back as hard as he was fucking you. 

he sends a smack to your ass, biting his lip as it ripples at the contact of his palm. his slaps were merciless, having you scream out every time he hits your cheek. “how’s this for a glorified personal trainer huh?” he coos in your ear, feeling dignified as you rut against him more feigning for more of his dick in your throbbing pussy. 

“ah you f-fill me up s-so so good,” you mewl out, as his dick pumps in and out of you stuffing you with every thrust. his mouth latches onto the nape of your neck, sucking on it as he ploughs into you deeper, hitting your spot with pinpoint accuracy.

“i know i do baby, i always stuff you good don’t i?” he groans out, your pussy was a vice grip on his dick, had him suppressing his moans whenever you clenched around him, “don’t know why you fuck around with these lame ass boys in your classes, they can’t fuck you like i do. do they?”

“well…” you voice trails in a teasing tone.

“dont f-fucking play with me,” he sputters, feeling himself about to bust all inside of you, “i’m the only one you fucking right,” when he doesn’t hear an immediate answer, he shoves himself into you his hips pushing right against your ass, “right?”

“y-yes fuck, right,” you sigh rolling your eyes at his act of possessiveness — ignoring how you pussy got even wetter at his words. “you’re the b-best i ever had, toji.”

“you’re damn right i am,” he scoffs out giving your ass one final slap as he says, “you going finish all over my dick, c’mon baby coat my dick with your sweet sweet,” and you do just that. you cum with a cry, releasing all over toji, as he shoots into you a loud groan leaving his mouth.

“aww i forgot how loud you get for me,” you tease him as he pulls out of you, turning to look at him with a grin, which he huffs out, “anyways what did i tell you about cumming in me, i'm not one of those cheerleaders you run around with,” you fuss swatting at his chest.

“yeah you aren’t one of the cheerleaders i run around with,” he repeats, “hence why i can cum in you, you know you’re my favourite fuck out of all my students”

“ugh you’re so gross.”

“you say that with my cum running down your legs,” he says, giving you a pointed look, his eyes staring down at your thighs, “i do have another hour till my next class i gotta teach, so i could clean it up for you?” he offers, already going down to his knees, knowing that was a suggestion you would not deny.

“if you insist.”

he starts to suck against your thighs as you lean against the wall, sandwiched between a goal post and a hockey stick, but just before his lips latch onto your pussy, he looks up to you with a pout, “do you really think gym coaches aren’t teachers?”

“oh shut up toji,” you mutter, pushing his head to your cunt.

☆ GETO

you storm into your professors office, pissed off. professor geto was the worst teacher you’ve ever had. he was cocky, arrogant and most of the time he didn’t have a clue what he was teaching. 

“ah miss know it all,” he muses, his personal nickname he created for you during his first semester of being your professor, “to what do i owe the pleasure this time.” you were no stranger to geto’s office, you were practically the only student that actually used his office hours. geto didn’t mind it though. the unplanned visits, your impoliteness — he was amused by it. 

“could you explain why you gave me a B, on my last paper?” you interrogate, waving said essay in his face furiously, “when we both know that this is easily worth an A.”

“i just think you could do better,” he shrugs nonchalantly, “i just think you haven’t harnessed your true potential, that’s all.” geto knew you were smart, the smartest person he’s ever taught. he just needed to get you in his office. and he knew a below average grade on an essay, that didn’t even matter, was the way to do that.

“and what do you know about potential?” you mutter, more to yourself than anything, “i don’t even know how you managed to get this job.”

he rolls his eyes at your comments, “do you really want this A?” 

"of course i want the stupid A," you reply, your tone determined. "i've put in the effort, and i've met all the requirements for this paper. there's no reason for you to give me a B except for your own personal bias against me."

“personal bias? some may argue that you’re actually my favourite?” geto leans back in his chair, a sly grin on his face. "but alright, then. here's the deal," he says, folding his arms. "if you can convince me right now, in this very moment, that you deserve an A for this paper, i'll change your grade. but you'll have to persuade me.”

“persuade you?” you retort, “what you want me to do a powerpoint presentation or something…?” 

he chuckles, shaking his head at your naivety, for someone so smart you somehow lack social awareness, “no i wanna see if you taste as good as you look.”

“you mean…” your voice trails, finally catching on to what he was getting at.

“come lay down on my desk,” he says casually as if this was a usual ordeal between the two of you. he could see you hesitating, “you do want that A right?” 

your feet were stuck in the ground, you never wanted to be one of those girls — ones that had to fuck a teacher just to get through university. but, regardless of your below A grade, you were more curious about what it would actually be like. especially with a professor that looked like geto. 

you lay down on his desk, nervous, you could feel his breath on your stomach as he slides down your jeans. he was kneeling down, his face at the same level as your pussy. he toys with your underwear, pulling at it and snapping it against your skin, giving you a smile of approval in your choice of panties. but just before he pulls them off you he asks, “you sure you want to do it smarty? you can run back to your dorm if you want?”

“anything to get the A,” you grit out, basically lying, since getting your grade improved was the last thing on your mind as he pulls off your underwear. 

he takes his hair — that was usually tied up in bun —  down, releasing his long hair, “just in case you need something to pull on,” he smirks.

his fingers slide across your wet slit, spreading your lips. he presses a kiss on your clit, slightly nibbling on it before working his mouth down to your pussy. you gasp at the contact as he latches his mouth on you, his tongue darting into your cunt at a quick pace. 

geto hums in satisfaction as you hands immediately go to grab his hair, pulling at it as his tongue gives you long strokes, lapping up all the juices already spilling out of you. “i didn’t think my star student would be this needy, if only the class could see you now.” he taunts lifting his head up, “i guess they wouldn’t be surprised though, your as hungry for my tongue as you are to answer questions in class,” he finishes with a chuckle pressing a kiss to your thigh.

but you’re quick to silence him, clenching your thighs against his head, “s-shut up,” you whine, thrusting your hips up in his face to meet his tongue. your head was swirling, you could barely remember how you ended up on your professors desk in the first place. but all you were focused on was clawing your fingers through his scalp as he slurps and sucks on your pussy.

“oh m-my god,” you murmur, soaking his face. he could tell by the way you pushing his face deeper into your cunt, his nose forced into your arousal that you were close.

“ready to let me taste you” he asks, his voice sending vibrations over your pussy, “wanna taste you so fucking bad.”

“fuck d-didn’t think it’ll be this g-good,” you whine out. he brings his thumb to you clit rubbing it as fast as he could taking you over the edge. you moan out, practically squealing, as you squirt all over his face. he smirks, trying to get as much as it as he can.

“i didn’t know my star student could squirt,” he teases, his mouth glistening with evidence of you, “or should i call you my star squirter.”

“haha, very funny…” you deadpan, becoming slightly shy at seeing him lick his lips wiping the last remains of you off of him.

“i guess my theory was right,” he concludes.

“what theory?” you ask, puzzled, forgetting the whole reason you let him eat you out in the first place.

“you do taste as good as you look,” he comments with a pleased grin, already reminiscing about you squirting all over his face.

“so about my A?” you ask pulling up your jeans, and collecting your things.

“yeah i’ll expect your rewrite on my desk by friday,” he shrugs, going back to his nonchalant persona.

“rewrite? did you not promise me an A if i can ‘persuade you,’ at how badly i want it?” you question, going back to your original state of being pissed off, “did i not persuade you mr ‘you do taste as good as you look.’ this is so unfair”

“ask me if i care about fairness?” he smirks, a laugh leaving his lips as he watches you storm out of his office, “hey! you left your underwear,” he calls out behind you, his laugh growing as you say nothing, putting up your middle finger at him and slamming his door shut.

☆ GOJO

“do you want to lose your job?” you chastise, “shut the fuck up.”

“but i can’t help it,” he purrs, nuzzling into your neck to suppress his non stop moans and whines that he was doing as he pushed his dick in you, “your pussy’s just too good.”

you were leaning against the desk of your professor gojo’s lecture hall, your legs wrapped around his bag as he hoisted you up, grinding his body against yours as his dick drives in your pussy. 

it was after hours, and gojo forgot to lock his classroom doors. as soon as your peers left the room he was quick to put his lips on yours, throwing all the stationary on his desk on the floor in the most dramatic fashion ever. 

you don’t know how you got entangled in a relationship with your teacher. since you didn’t actually benefit from it, and he was needier and clingier than an actual student your age. but the mind blowing orgasms he gave you every now and again made you forget all of his ‘bad qualities.’

“c’mon don’t tell me it’s not making you feel wetter,” he murmurs in between kisses, “the idea of someone walking in on me fucking your pretty little pussy.” you ignore him, your arms tightening around his neck as you bounce on his dick. “tell me that doesn’t make you hot,” he eases his dick out of you slightly, drawing both of your attention to his member already covered in your juices. his eyebrows raise when you look back at him as if he’s just proved his point.

“whatever, i guess the idea of us getting caught isn’t that bad,” you lie, knowing it was causing you to get better, “but if we do get caught then it's your ass gojo.”

“aww you’re so thoughtful,” he coos, “you really care about me and my job, will you miss me if i get fired?”

“well i’ll miss my on campus dick,” you mutter, scratching at his back, as he thrusts into you deeper, “but i’ll be able to replace you quickly i guess.”

“oh how you wound me,” he mocks, pulling you into a deep kiss, desperate to taste you. that was gojo’s favourite thing to do to you, of course your pussy was great, but your lips were his favourite thing. sometimes he’d even drag you out of the hallway into his office —not a care in the world if anyone was around— and pull you into his lap just shove his tongue into your mouth and fondle your tits.

for a lousy professor, gojo sure knew your body well. he knew every spot to hit, every place to kiss, every stroke to make and you loved it. the scratches you were giving him on his back, encouraging him to go deeper, stuffing you to the brim. “f-fuckk you take me so so well,” he moans in your ear, whining and grunting as you tighten your hold around him. 

“i’m close,” he mutters, his pace slowing. he lowers you down so your back is laying on the desk and he swoops his mouth down to your tits. enveloping your left breast with his mouth, greedily suckling at it. 

“wow already?” you taunt, “you’ve really lost your touch professor, when i was an undergrad we could go at it for days.” his mouth pauses, as he looks up at you with a pointed look that reads as ‘girl really? as if you aren’t close.’ he wasn’t wrong, from his deep long strokes in your pussy, and his tongue twisting on your nipples, you were ready to cum all over him.

“gojo shit,” you curse, your hand coming down to your clit, flicking at it fast to speed up your orgasm. but gojo slaps your hand away, almost offended that you would try to cum off of something other than his hands and mouth. he bites down on your nipple, punishingly and that sends you overboard. you let out a shriek as you cum all over his dick, your hand quickly coming over your mouth to suppress your whines.

“what happened to being quiet huh?” he mocks your warning from earlier, “don’t want to get caught, do we now?” but he’s quick to let out a deep moan, as he releases into you, spraying your walls with all your cum. he slumps over you, exhausted, and wanting to just feel you — gojo was always needy after sex.

after you both come down from your highs and clean up — thankful that nobody stumbled across you. gojo pulls you into his lap, dabbing kisses all over your neck, “so when you gonna let me take you out, outside the classroom?”

“y’know that’s not allowed right?” you remind him, looking at your professor as if he’s lost his mind, “what we’re doing now isn’t allowed, but out in public is a no go, gojo.”

“not allowed?” he retorts, as if it’s news to him, “i thought it was just heavily frowned upon?!”

an: sooo what did you think? which one was your favourite. me personal lame gym coach toji really did it for me. tagging my girl @jabamin mainly just for nanami. but yes ALSO IDK WHY I MADE THE READER DUMB IN THE NANAMI FIC, but I juxtaposed it by making you super smart in the geto fic so it balances it out. anyways lmk what you thought, thanks for reading!! DONT USE MY DIVIDERS

[satoruxx]

PARACOSM OF THE GODS.

PAIRING: gojo satoru x f!reader, geto suguru x f!reader | 11.5k words

SUMMARY: ok here we go, canon au, angst, fluff, best friends being in love, stsg being whipped but unable to express it, reader is clueless as usual, timeskips, canon compliant deaths, bittersweet, longing, mutual pining, emotionally stunted teens, dad!gojo makes an appearance, hopefully that’s it i'm tired of typing

RHEYA'S NOTE: highkey lowkey stressed posting bc this has been sitting in my wips for 4 years now. i honestly didn't have to add much to it i basically just proofread. but yeah when you maladaptive daydream and create a plot where you're a character in jjk and you're also in love with gojo and geto this is what happens. a little sad to let this go but it's time !! plus i can add more parts later. but anyways pls lmk what you think, i'm super curious to know <33

i. the unknown

satoru's first impression of you is anything but kind.  

his words come casually, free into the wind without care, and they aren't meant for you to hear. instead, they fall only to suguru's ears, evoking a deep chuckle and a slight shake of his head. his bangs swish a little with the movement, but satoru is too busy eyeing you over the frame of his shades to notice. 

you're lucky to have not heard it, because the intent with which it was said would have probably made your brow tick with frustration. he says it without a thought, as if he hasn't the slightest bit of interest in you as hints of arrogance fill his tone. 

"who's the rookie?" 

satoru and suguru sit outside against the patio railings of the classroom they had chosen for the day. it overlooks the grounds of the school, where they have a clear view of who approaches the main entrance. suguru absentmindedly clicks his lighter—shoko had gone to get another pack of cigarettes. 

it is from this higher point that they have a clear view of you. you're so obviously new to this, satoru thinks as he watches how you awkwardly stand in front of yaga sensei. 

he already wants to label you as a side character. it's mean, he realizes—cruel even, but he can barely bring himself to care. 

"yaga sensei mentioned that there'd be a new student joining us this week," suguru says, fingering the bangs hanging in front of his eyes. they roam over you with only slight interest before uttering your full name, just as his teacher had said it.

satoru repeats it with a hum. "not a big name or anything. a small-sized family of sorcerers i think." he shrugs carelessly. "but honestly i never really paid attention to all those stupid clan and jujutsu family lessons." 

suguru only responds with a good-natured chuckle, tearing his eyes away from the scene to look at his friend. "no shit." 

the two sit in quiet silence, watching yaga's lips move in structured, emotionless greetings as he shakes your hand. satoru is especially focused on the hunching of your shoulders and the way your eyes nervously dart around. 

suguru is the first to interrupt the peace. 

"maybe she's strong?" 

"are you kidding?" satoru scoffs as he stands up straight, shoving his fists into his pockets. he turns his nose up slightly. "that's not the attitude of someone who's confident in their abilities." 

ii. routine 

"can i ask you guys a question?" 

a cool breeze tickles your skin, goosebumps rising in its wake, and you suppress a shiver. the smell of the air tells you winter is fast approaching. 

"you just did," satoru hums, his snowy hair splayed out against stems of green grass. suguru's chuckle reverberates deep in his chest, and you have to push back an exasperated smile. 

"another one then," you press, leaning over satoru's face to force yourself into his view. his blue eyes pierce through yours over the dark-rimmed frames of his glasses, and even after seeing them so many times, they still feel as dominating as the first. he hums again, and you take that as your cue. 

"what did you first think of me when we met all those months ago?" 

satoru sits up quickly, and you can already feel your shoulders dropping when you catch a glimpse of the teasing smirk on his lips. he shifts so that he's directly facing you, leaning close so that the two of you are barely a palm's distance from one another. 

"thought you were an annoying little rookie~" he sings and you immediately shove at his shoulder.

"'m not a rookie anymore," you huff, and satoru laughs joyously. suguru only grins, his eyes darting between the two of you happily. satoru moves himself into a proper sitting position, digging his long fingers into your bag of chips and popping one into his mouth. you swat at his hand, even though you don't mean it, because though you complain about gojo satoru all the time, you would give him the whole world if you could. 

you and satoru take turns reaching into the bag. you wonder if the sound of crunching disturbs suguru. he's not asleep—he's just doing that thing where he keeps his eyes closed and escapes to his own land of tranquility. you'd like to give him as much peace as you can, so you stay quiet. satoru does too, but you think that's just because you aren't talking to him. 

the quiet is nice when you're with them. sometimes silence makes you feel alone—paranoid. it feels like there is some impending doom hovering over your shoulder, and all you can do is wait for it to come. but with them it is different. you know that any danger in the quiet will be caught by the two of them. maybe that's why it's so easy to let your guard down around them. you trust that they won't let you die.  

"i thought you were weak," satoru pipes up after a few minutes of silence. "you didn't seem like you were confident in your abilities, and that's a sign of weakness." 

after spending so much time with satoru and suguru, the word weak has permeated almost every one of your conversations. later you learned how much more significant it was for them to label someone as strong. you chase after the word—crave it.

"and turns out that wasn't true." suguru adds with a smile, his head leaning back against the trunk of the tree. his eyes are still closed serenely and you wonder if he can feel the way you're gazing at him. 

"yeah and now you act like some big hotshot," satoru grumbles, as though he doesn't want to admit to his old mistake, but you can hear his smile. it annoys you, the way his once degrading little nickname has now somewhat turned into a term of endearment. you would rather die than admit that you like hearing him say it. 

"well, I'm glad that i was able to prove you both wrong."

the conversation ends there. 

shoko returns a few minutes later, tossing you a can of soda and suguru a pack of cigarettes. as soon as she sits down in her spot under the tree you're forcing your head into her lap and kicking your feet onto satoru's legs. you ignore his complaints, because you know that in just a little bit he'll quiet down and his hand will rest over your ankle, fingers soft but firm. they'll occasionally drum some rhythmic tune, or draw nonsensical patterns against your skin.

shoko's fingers thread through your hair, just like they always do, and you know that in a few minutes you'll doze off in her lap, just like you always do. it's clockwork, this thing that you have with them. they make the days keep going—time doesn't stop for you. 

a part of you wishes you could freeze time at that moment. 

but you can't. 

iii. halcyon

"hey suguru?"

"hm?"

"how come you always do your hair the same way?"

suguru glances up from his book. he's seated at your desk, and for a minute, the breeze pushes your curtains so that they block your view of him. satoru groans lightly from your left, turning on his side to snuggle deeper into your pillow, and slumber overtakes him once more. him and shoko remain quiet, faces free of worry as they dream in a land that is so unlike the real world you live in.

"what do you mean?" suguru asks in response to your question. he has an amused smile on his face as he places his book on your desk, though his thumb and pointer finger keep his page.

"well…" you suddenly feel stupid for asking, but he's looking at you so intently now. "you have such nice hair. you could style it in so many different ways."

"are you saying you don't like my hair the way it is?" he frowns.

"no no!" you scramble, shaking your head emphatically. quite the opposite actually you think he's so so attractive—how on earth did you screw this up so badly? "that's not it i just—"

he laughs, tilting his head fondly. "i'm just messing with you, hotshot."

you blanch, before crossing your arms with a huff. "asshole…"

he chuckles, before lifting a calloused hand up to finger the tie that holds his hair in a bun. he glances back at you, before a michevious smile settles on his face. he gives the tie one sharp tug, and the bun falls away. black hair drops, resting on his shoulders, and you stare at him—oddly parched. wind brushes through the open window, tickling your curtains, tickling his now open hair. you had seen his hair down before, of course. in the few seconds after a sparring session when the bun had gotten loose, or when too many strands escaped the tie and fell in front of his face (he always pushed them away with an agitated huff). but now he looks different—good, you realize. he looks good.

"how should i style it then, hotshot?"

his question shakes you out of your daze. you hum in contemplation. "i don't know."

he laughs quietly, as to not wake the other two. "didn't you just say there were so many ways to style it? enlighten me then," he teases, reaching over to grab a small scrap of paper from your desk. he slots it where his fingers are holding place, and then closes the book. he swivels in the chair to face you completely, rolling over so that he's right in front of you.

"well…" you start, biting your lip in thought. "a ponytail maybe?"

suguru bunches his hair into his fist, holding it up against his head. "and? how do i look?"

you grin, eyeing the new style with a stifled laugh. "fantastic."

he laughs again, louder this time, before dropping his hand.

"it looked good though!" you laugh and he rolls his eyes fondly.

"yeah yeah," he dismisses with a wave of his hand. he looks back at you, eyes tracing over your hair before he grins wide.

"i like yours."

you blink. "mine?"

"the way you did your hair today," he points to the half up-half down style you've thrown together. a dark blue ribbon holds the hair in place—satoru had said it matched nicely with your uniform. suguru's eyes gleam as he appraises it. "it's nice. it looks really pretty on you."

something in your chest feels like it fell off a cliff.

"oh—" you stumble, before smiling at him because that's all you can do when he makes you feel like this. "thanks suguru."

"do mine like that," he says quickly.

once again, you blink owlishly and all you can manage is a stupid "huh?"

"do my hair like that," he repeats, getting up from the chair to sit at your feet, back towards you. he crosses his legs and puts his hands in his lap, patiently waiting.

"you can't do it yourself?" you tease, scooting closer to the edge of the bed.

"i can," he replies and you can hear the easy smile in his voice. "but i want you to do it for me."

"okay then!" you laugh before gently parting sections of his hair out. and then you work in silence, putting more effort into his hair than you've ever done with your own.

iv. fragility

"lady riko does not have any relations. when she was young, her family was involved in an accident…since then, i've been her caretaker. so please let her at least spend time with her fr—" 

"—so that makes you her family then." 

suguru's words seem to stun kuroi, the weight of riko's situation finally making itself clear as her face crumbles. 

"…yes." 

you listen to the way her voice wobbles, and try to suppress the poisonous lump forming in your throat. 

"then we do everything we can to make her happy," you say solemnly, leaving no room for argument. suguru seems to agree and says nothing—some deeper part of you feels something more than thankful towards him. 

"you're awfully sensitive for a jujustu sorcerer, you know that?" satoru comments offhandedly. you turn to look at him, meeting his piercing gaze over dark rims. 

"maybe," you concur. "is that considered weak?" 

satoru seems to ponder his answer, before shrugging, a light smile on his face. "to some people, maybe." 

you manage to smile back, and he takes in the expression with an odd look on his face. "say what you want, satoru. but you agree with me, don't you?" 

he looks away, eyes gazing out to the distance where you know riko is currently in class with her friends, trying to live the life she wants, and something in them softens considerably. 

"we'll do things the way she wants us to." 

it's one sentence, said without a smile or laugh, but hearing it fall from satoru's lips makes you beam at him. 

that's just your kindness, isn't it, satoru?

your heart leaps when you notice the tips of his ears tinge with rouge. 

v. longing

riko's hand is warm against the coolness of your fingers. your body feels hyperaware of your surroundings, toes deep in hot sand and salty air sticking to your skin. for some odd reason, you can't seem to relax. unconsciously, you tighten your grip around the young girl's palm. she glances up at you, but when you look down at her, she's wearing the biggest smile you've ever seen. 

satoru's presence makes itself known behind you—his shadow looms over yours in the sand. "it'll be fine," he says.

you can't see his face, nor can you see suguru who stands at his side, but your shoulders drop slightly, and you find yourself smiling back at riko. 

"i'm getting in the water!" she squeals eagerly, before dragging a helpless kuroi with her. satoru laughs—a clear, pristine sound—and follows after her. you watch the three of them with a fond smile, something akin to content settling deep within you.  

"and what are you planning on doing?" suguru asks. you turn to look at him, watching the way his heavy eyes stay focused on you. 

"hmm," you quirk a brow mischievously. "build sandcastles with me?" 

suguru blinks owlishly before he breaks out into a good-natured laugh. 

"deal." he walks closer to the water's edge, where the sand is damper, and crouches down. he turns to look at you over his shoulder. "don't make me do all the work, hotshot." 

you stand there, taking him in—really taking him in. he's just as clear as the sky behind him, and the sun shining on his face makes his smile glow. you want him to continue smiling at you like that well into the future. the waves crash onto the shore, as though the ocean is chasing his radiance, and an overwhelming feeling of unfiltered affection swells in your chest. 

your feet carry you forward, and you think that they might always lead you back to him. 

the sun rises as time passes, and occasionally you spare a glance at satoru and riko, who are screaming as they splash water at one another. and then you catch a glimpse of kuroi, who stands with her feet in the water, a soft smile on her face. 

and in that moment, nothing can be ruined. 

"what's wrong?" suguru's voice calls out, and you tear your gaze away from the others to look back at him. he stands behind you with two strawberry ice cream cones in his hands. 

"nothing," you hum, a serene smile on your face. "everything's perfect."

his eyes trace your face, stopping to linger on your smile, and they soften. "it is, isn't it?" 

he turns to the ocean, watching satoru and riko, and his eyes sparkle. "i hope it stays like this always." 

"me too." 

he bends down to take his place at your side before he hands you a cone. you take it from him. suguru's eyes drift away from you to look down at his castle. 

"i think it looks great," he expresses, before taking a lick of his ice cream. 

you roll your eyes with a huff. "yeah, because you made it look so nice. you're unnecessarily good at this, suguru." 

he laughs, waving his hand dismissively. "no no, we did it together! and yours is nice too!" 

"maybe," you grin, looking at his castle. "but yours is extra pretty." 

he smiles back, before pointing at a small hole in his sand tower. "see this room? it's yours." 

"mine?" you chuckle.

"yeah, all yours," he hums softly. "this is my castle and you get your own room." 

"oh? and why's that?" 

suguru's gaze lingers on you, and his dark eyes soften considerably. "because you'll always have a place in my home." 

you stare at him, speechless—something hammers away at the inner crevices of your chest. 

"and this one—" he points to another hole a few inches away from the first. "—is my room." 

"well in that case, that room is mine too!" you declare.

"what?" he barks out a laugh. "how does that work?" 

"well…" you grin at him, the sun burning into your cheeks. "because my home is wherever you are!" 

suguru's cheeky smile fades and his eyes widen. he looks at you, mouth agape, and you're about to say something else before sticky coolness trickles down your wrist. 

"ack!" you hurry to wipe away the strawberry ice cream dripping down your skin and you completely miss the red that creeps up his neck and seeps into his ears. 

vi. ice bath

shoko's fingers are unbelievably soft. you're grateful that you were unconscious through most of her procedures on your battered body—you don't think you would've handled the pain too well. she's quiet as she works over the large wound that now covers almost half of your torso. the man with the scar on his lip had done quite the number on you, and you don't think you'll ever forget the searing ache of his blade slicing through your flesh. he had left you in a bloodied pile, isolated, and you hadn't seen what had happened to suguru after the man shot riko. you could only lay there, vision swimming as a bitter taste filled your mouth—a reminder of the life you failed to protect.

the pain had been the only thing you could focus on, until satoru was on his knees at your side and tightly gripping your shoulders. your hazy focus was drawn to his lips as he spewed curses and insults at you. 

"why didn't you run away, you little shit," he had shouted, a feral look in his eyes. there was something different about him—a change in his very being that you could see even in the throes of death. "shoko's coming, do you hear me? for fuck's sake, keep your eyes open, hotshot!" 

you swore you saw his eyes shine behind that look of uncontrolled anger. he had been talking a mile a minute and your focus had waned until you could only see his lips move, no sound reaching your ears.

you've never thought satoru looked more godly than he did at that moment.

suguru eventually found his way into your field of vision—knelt at satoru's side. his large hand had squeezed your limp fingers in a death grip. he was sweating, and his eyes were darting back and forth between your pale face and bloodied torso, something akin to guilt swimming in them. you wished that you had the strength in you to squeeze his hand in return. the last thing you remember seeing is his dark hair falling in front of his face as he turned to shout at whoever was approaching.

now you're awake. disoriented and bleary, but awake, and all you can look at is the way shoko's bangs fall over her furrowed brows. she's taken care of the bleeding, and now all that's left is a dull throbbing, reminding you of how close you had toed the line with death. you don't know this yet, but the scar will remain for the rest of your life, and that dull throbbing will be a permanent reminder of your narrow escape. 

shoko hasn't said a word since she noticed your eyelids flutter open. you want to ask her so many things. important things that cannot wait: 

where's satoru? how about suguru? i saw them both. satoru's alive, right? and suguru, too? the man—with the scar. where did he go? he said that satoru—riko….where is riko? and—and kuroi…i—i..couldn't save riko. when did you get here, shoko? and why am i the only one who's being taken care of by you? 

you want to ask her. but she's making a very odd expression as her hands ghost over your body. you've never seen it before, this odd quirking of her lips. her teeth sink into the bottom one, and she chews and bites and nibbles like it's some kind of nervous tell. 

"shoko?" 

it's all you can manage to say—all you dare. your voice is dry, shaky, and sounds almost foreign to your ears. you're going to ask more, at least one of those thousand questions you had asked in your head earlier, but you don't get to because she speaks before you. 

"shut up," she spits, and the wobble in her voice has you pinching your lips shut and feeling closer to death than you did before. 

vii. acid rain

the sound of clapping is deafening. you don't think you've ever heard a sound so horrid in your life before, and you feel as though your ears are bleeding heavily. you can faintly make out the conversation between satoru and suguru, your ears struggling to pick out the tones of their voices. 

"no…" you hear suguru say quietly. "it doesn't matter if I'm fine…"

you can feel satoru's eyes roam over your motionless body, watching the way you gaze out into the crowd impassively. 

"let's get out of here, guys."

your feet carry you numbly, and you aren't aware of anything except the way riko's arm is swinging in front of you lifelessly. there are no mirrors around—no way of catching the track of tears cutting over your cheeks. the places where the salt touches burn like acid. you say nothing. 

satoru's gaze feels intrusive. he doesn't need to ask you anything—he just knows. it's like your body is radiating the emotions tumbling around in your gut. 

you're awfully sensitive for a jujutsu sorcerer, you know that?

"do you want to…kill them all?" 

the question stuns you, and for the first time, you can shake yourself out of your daze to look at satoru directly. blood is smeared over the left side of his face, cerulean eyes dimmed, as though something had pulled the shine out of them. red seeps into the fine hairs of his restless eyebrows. 

"right now, i probably wouldn't even feel anything," he continues, staring at you listlessly.

you think satoru might be feeling just as numb as you are. you don't know what happened to him yet. the last you had heard, gojo satoru had been killed by the man with the scar. he had boasted about it to you before he attempted to kill you too. but then satoru was at your side again, completely alive as he ran your battered body to shoko like a crazed man. 

you'll find out later who the man with the scar on his lip was, and what kind of legacy he had left behind. but for right now, all you see is a teenager with the weight of the world on his shoulders, and you know your answer.

satoru could help the pain go away; he'd be able to make the clapping stop—maybe then your ears wouldn't bleed anymore. but you couldn't ask that of him. 

"forget it. it's pointless," suguru mutters, and you're glad he's on the same page as you. not because any of these people deserve pity, but because satoru deserves a break—one less burden for him to carry. 

you hear suguru say more, but you can't focus. you continue to listen to the sound of the clapping, and once again lose yourself as you stare at riko's bloodied fingertips. 

"pointless, huh?" satoru mumbles in response to suguru's answer. "does there need to be a reason?" 

"of course. it's important," suguru's voice doesn't carry the same pleasant tone it always does. instead, it sounds strained, and tired beyond belief. unsure. "especially as jujutsu sorcerers." 

satoru doesn't respond, but you know that he's measuring the weight of his friend's words. that's how it was with the two of them. they both balance each other out—their moral compasses influenced by one another. but then you feel satoru look up from riko's body and turn to you. suguru follows suit, and before you can wonder why, it hits you: satoru had asked you both. 

you suck a deep breath in, feeling unusually breathless. the flesh of your stomach tingles with a painful reminder of what might've been, and you make up your mind. 

"killing them won't change anything," you say, breaking your silence. the tears on your cheeks have dried, but they leave a rigid trail in their wake—a trail that still stings. "let's just leave it at that." 

viii. fever dreams

satoru lies next to you. 

a few nights have passed since riko's death, and you've chosen to stay holed up in your room. you're not sure why—death has always played a big role in your life. you don't understand why it's different this time. 

tonight is different as well. while you've maintained a distance from everyone since that day, save for classes and passing by people on school grounds, today you've decided to let someone in. satoru's the lucky one, mostly because he would've pestered you until you opened your door for him anyway. 

it's strange though. he had knocked over and over, and when you finally opened up with a snappy jab at his annoying personality, he had brushed straight past you and laid across your bed. he hadn't said a word since then, and you've found yourself lying next to him in silence for quite a while. 

his hand stretches out in the darkness and you can feel his fingertips brush over the skin of your arm. it's delicate, like he's testing his limits, but you understand. it's just to ground himself—to know that you're still here, with him. to be sure that you're still alive.

you think the scar that goes down your body bothers him a lot more than it bothers you. 

"'m here," you mumble sleepily. your fingers reach up to bump against his knuckles, and you hear him inhale deeply. his voice is throaty when he replies. 

"i know." 

ix. doubt

satoru learns that you've never been kissed before and he teases you for it.

not in a mean way, but in a way that has your cheeks heating and your eyes avoiding his. suddenly it feels like the gap between ages 16 and 17 is huge. he's barely even a year older than you and you're in the same year, but it feels as though he knows so much more about the world than you do. you want to ask suguru if it's bad that you've never had a kiss, but you don't. suguru rarely talks these days. sometimes he'll have conversations with you but won't look in your eyes when he speaks. 

"hey listen, hotshot. if you don't get a kiss by…" satoru hums, an eager smile on his face as he swings an arm around your shoulders and contemplates his words. "…let's say 27, then i'll give one to you!" 

there's an odd note of glee in his voice. 

"shut up, toru," you groan, heat flooding your cheeks. "quit joking around." 

he laughs loudly, pulling your cheek teasingly. "aw, i'm just playing. it's not a bad thing i promise!" 

your shoulders relax slightly as the snowy-haired sorcerer continues to speak. 

"i just thought that you would've kissed someone by now," he shrugs. "wasn't there that one guy you went on a few dates with? the one you met when we went to yokohama?" 

there's an almost sour expression on his face as he speaks, but you're too frustrated to care. "just because i went on a couple of dates with him doesn't mean i kissed him!"

a broad teasing smile appears on satoru's face. "is that so?" 

"ugh, i'm only 16!" you hiss, shoving him away from you. "besides i'm saving it for someone special!"

"good," you hear suguru speak up, and you turn to look at him. his fingers are interlocked, elbows resting on his knees, and he's staring down at his hands like they hold the answers to some deep questions he has. "it is something irreplaceable after all." 

x. shadow

satoru's grin is proud as he stands before the three of you, his loose shirt billowing in the summer breeze.

you stare at him, heart thumping as shoko lets out a confused gasp. "huh? what the hell was that?"

"did it automatically choose the target for your technique?" suguru asks.

"yep!" satoru stresses the word, spinning the pencil suguru had thrown as he explains. "though i am the target. i've pretty much automated what i used to have to do manually."

your head is spinning.

"now i can tell an object's danger levels based the strength of its cursed energy, its speed, mass, velocity, shape—whatever. i want to be able to discern poisons too but that's pretty hard right now." satoru's voice is even when he explains, though you can make out the hints of pride that permeate his tones. you think his voice has gotten a little deeper too. "basically this is gonna allow me to keep my limitless technique active all the time!"

"that's gonna fry your brain!" shoko interjects, shaking her hair out of her eyes.

"yeah but i can do it while i continuously generate energy on my own. that way my brain stays fresh."

you can't help but let out an amused scoff. "what brain?"

satoru chucks the eraser at you, and you laugh as it bounces off your shoulder harmlessly.

"i've been working on shortening my hand signals so i can activate red and blue simultaneously." he continues, lips twitching upward as he gives you an exaggerated glare. "after this the only things i need to work on are domain expansion and long-distance teleportation. which i should be able to do if we set up some training courses here at school."

you think if someone examined you closely, they would see the stars in your eyes when you look at satoru.

"shoko~" he calls out, grinning eagerly. "think you could get me some lab rats?"

shoko groans as satoru bounds over to pester her more emphatically. you watch him, thinking you've never seen a person quite so magnificent.

god personified into a 17-year-old body. and yet it is a body that stays so close to you—well within your reach. maybe there's nothing so godly about that at all.

"don't you get tired of getting stronger and stronger, jeez?" you complain, crossing your arms as you raise a brow at him. satoru wets his lips as he throws you a smug smile.

"don't worry hotshot, you'll catch up to me someday!" he gives you an exaggerated wink over the frames of his glasses, and you shake your head somewhat fondly.

"no way! i never want to be at your level," you huff. "i'm very comfortable living in your shadow, thank you very much!"

a strange look passes over his face, almost puzzled, but the dip in his brows melts away as he approaches you. "well—" he slings an arm over your shoulder. "if my shadow makes you happy then you're more than welcome to stay there."

you don't have time to reply. pale lashes flutter at you—a backdrop of cerulean. you think white and blue may be the prettiest combination of colors in the world.

"suguru?" satoru's voice is casual, yet the amusement has dropped from it. his arm is heavy around your shoulders. "have you lost weight? are you okay?"

you look up, seeing tired eyes behind dark stands of hair. suguru's cheekbones are prominent, and you have the sudden urge to reach out and trace your fingers over them.

his lips twitch upward weakly. "it's just the summer heat…"

his lavender eyes drift to your face as he says it, and he tilts his head as he scrutinizes your worried expression. "…i'll be fine."

xi. hellfire

you hear suguru before you see him.

his breaths come loud as he pushes the door to the morgue open, the metal clanging heavily. his eyes bore into your back, taking in your clenched fists and raised shoulders that seem to tremble.

you wonder who told suguru you'd be here. maybe nanami, who was here not long ago, and had sent you a text that merely said: the mission went badly.

or maybe it was satoru, who had been chatting with you near the entrance of campus when he saw the myriad of emotions pass over your face as you read the text. he had probably called suguru as soon as you left.

it doesn't matter—you can't bring yourself to care.

you can only think about the way haibara had smiled at you before he left that morning.

now that smile is covered by a dirty white sheet, and you can't tear your eyes away from it. the taste of blood and vomit is heavy on your tongue.

suguru says your name quietly. you can't even look at him—you're scared that you'll cry if you do.

you don't ever want to cry in front of him. or satoru—so weak in front of those who are so strong.

"he asked if i wanted to go with them and i said no because i was lazy," you hiss, teeth clenched as you spit out the words with venom. "if i had just stopped thinking about myself for a second—"

your fingers dig into the flesh of your palms—deep, deep, deeper.

you hear suguru click his tongue, and his hands wrap around yours. he yanks your fingers apart fiercely, thumbs smoothing over the bloodied indents you've made in your own skin. you tear your eyes away from the body to finally look at him.

"don't—" his breath catches as his thumbs still over your flesh, eyes going hard as he takes in the blood.

he blurs in and out of focus. his head whips up when he hears you sniffle, and his lips slant ruefully. "you—"

"i'm fine," you interrupt, blinking pointedly and taking a deep breath. "it's fine—i mean it's not fine—but i c—"

"stop." suguru grabs your shoulders, giving you an even stare. you don't know how you didn't notice it before, but he looks thinner, older. there are dark circles under his eyes—poison seeping into his skin. "you need to rest."

you stare back at him silently, but you don't feel like you agree. something about this is making you feel restless, like there is so much you need to make up for. his grip tightens, before he's wordlessly leading you to take a seat—he finds his place next to you.

"satoru took over the mission." he stares at the lifeless body on the table as he speaks. you lower your gaze.

"and nanami?" your throat feels like it's closing. suguru inhales deeply.

"he went back to the dorms."

"okay."

you try to figure out if there is any meaning in having this conversation. despite everything, weren't you expected to wake up tomorrow morning and head out on a mission once more? and when you return, you're sure that there'll be another faceless body taking haibara's place.

the cycle continues—clockwork. it scares you, just how replaceable you are.

haibara, nanami, you, another, nameless—interchangeable.

not like satoru. not like suguru. not like the strong.

you lean your head against suguru's shoulder, fingering the hem of your uniform skirt. the fabric is cool to the touch—it seems darker, heavier. heat radiates from the body next to you, and there's something about him that's making your stomach churn with nerves. "suguru?"

his voice sounds far away. "hm?"

"are you okay?"

he stiffens and you suddenly fear you've said too much—nosy, intruding, out of place. you stumble. "it's just, we haven't talked much lately."

"i'm fine," he answers, and you can hear a smile in his voice—whether it's real or fake you can't tell. "just a little tired."

you know there is truth to this. but it scares you, how this tiredness of his has lingered for months. you don't know how to tell him that.

"okay…" your voice is barely a whisper, heavy with unspoken words that you don't know how to formulate. somehow you find that silence has always been your only option.

but like usual, silence with suguru has never once been uncomfortable.

haibara's smile burns behind your eyelids.

"it should be a relatively simple mission. if you're not doing anything today senpai, would you like to come with us?"

his voice tickles your ears.

"that's alright! i'll get going then! oh right, today's mission is a little farther than usual, so we'll probably be back late! what would you like me to bring back for you?" 

hypoxia crushes your lungs, your blood burns. selfish selfish selfish. you've only ever cared about yourself.

suguru's arm curls around your shoulder before you even realize you're crying. his palm is warm as it smooths over your hair, and all you can worry about tainting him with your ridiculous tears.

you don't ever want to burden him—just want to quietly live in his shadow.

"i don't—" you internally cringe at the throaty rasp of your voice, swiping a hand at your nose. "i shouldn't be so sensitive about—"

"it's not your fault." he quietly hushes you, grip tightening imperceptibly. through your tears you can see him adam's apple bob, and for some reason that makes you feel worse. you're too scared to look at his expression, even though his voice is resolute. "none of this is our fault."

something has changed in the way he speaks now. something has settled, a confirmation of some idea that has been brewing for a long time now.

you don't say another word, but somehow he manages to sear himself into your very being. he's warm, and fuzzy, and he smells like sandalwood and incense. 

you don't know how long suguru let's you pathetically sob into his shoulder.

but you think you're embarrassed that he has taken pity on a wounded animal's cries.

xii. split

he looks different, but also the same. you've seen him wear that sweater before. it's plain black, no patterns, and you know that there's a loose string on the inside of the left sleeve that he was always too lazy to cut. you've always liked that sweater—always liked the way he looked in it. 

you liked it so much that you've even stolen it a few times yourself. 

but now it looks different. older and dirtier—as though soiled by some unknown curse. 

that's what everything came down to, right? curses. 

suguru stands in front of you, almost no trace of emotion on his handsome face, and his expression makes you want to turn and run. you miss the calm serenity that normally graced his features, wishing that you had some kind of cursed technique that could turn back time. but you aren't blessed like that—you wonder what sin you might've committed in a past life that made you so unlucky in this one. 

"you look confused," he comments. you reel at how casually he speaks to you, like it's just another afternoon sitting under that stupid tree. like he's leaning his head back against the trunk and watching you and satoru bicker with that fond look in his eye. 

"suguru," you speak, an odd strain in your voice. you struggle to comprehend this odd turn of events. you've had time to understand that he's now a different person than the one you once knew. you know that he's responsible for killing 112 innocents, including his own parents. you know that he's now an enemy to jujutsu society and you know that you should kill him right at this moment.

but he looks so much like suguru, like your suguru, that you can only manage to stand there, frozen in place. his eyes drift over your body, taking in your pajamas, the bath towel in your hands, and the small drops that trickle from your hair, and you can see the familiarity settle in his expression. 

"why are you here?" you choke out. you feel an overwhelming sense of danger in your gut, knowing that your family is just a few rooms over from where he stands now. 

"at your family home, you mean?" he asks casually. a small, almost amused smirk appears on his face. "you said i was always welcome." 

you did say that. sometime last year or the year before, when you had invited satoru, suguru, and shoko over to visit during one of your quick holidays. suguru had sat across from you at your dinner table. he complimented the food and your father smiled one of his rare smiles. you had chewed quietly to hide your grin.

you don't know what to say to him now. 

"everything they said about you," you whisper, taking a step toward him. he remains rooted in place, but his eyes follow your movements. they shift when he catches your fingers gripping your towel tighter. "is it true?" 

"do you think it is?" he asks, and you gulp. it feels like he's baiting you into some kind of trap. 

"i don't want to believe that it is," you answer, voice shaking. "that you would ever do something so…"

the sentence hangs in the air, and he tilts his head imperceptibly. something in his eyes changes as he focuses on the drops falling over your shoulders. 

"well i'm sorry to squash your hope," he raises his arms in a shrug. "but everything you heard is completely true." 

your head aches, but you're not surprised by his confirmation. "why would you…?"

suguru hums, a dark look falling over his face. "do you remember the conversation we had after haibara's funeral? do you remember what i told you when he died?" 

anger flares in your gut at the mention of haibara, and the bath towel crumples in your hold. "don't say his name," you hiss through gritted teeth. "don't act like he's the reason—just…don't bring him into this. please." 

suguru licks his lips, eyes going soft before he tries again. 

"everything used to make sense back then," he sighs. "back when the strong existed to protect the weak. but it's not true." 

"suguru—" 

"the reason why we suffer is because of them," he interjects evenly, though frustration is clearly evident in the curve of his brows and the volume of his voice. "we clean up their messes. they create problems and we die for it." 

you're stunned into silence, at the way he's raising his voice at you, at the way he's speaking so firmly about this horrible topic, at everything. he seems to realize the effect of his speech, and he quells his anger to speak quieter. "that's why i'm doing this. i'm going to create a world without non-sorcerers, so that sorcerers like you and i can live peacefully." 

a lump forms in your throat because god, he's right. he's so right. your life would be a thousand times better without curses. non-sorcerers were the reason curses existed. but the way he's going about this…

"suguru," your voice shakes, but you press on. "i get it. i really do—" 

"i know you do," he interrupts. "you always have. even back then…" 

he takes a step closer to you, reaching out to finger the towel in your hands. "but you don't agree with the way i'm doing it, right?" 

you bite your lip, and he smiles at the sadness in your expression. "you're so easy to read, hotshot." 

you ignore the way the nickname stings. "i just—how could you kill innocent people like that? your own parents, suguru."

he looks away from you, steely resolve in his eyes. "if i made exceptions for my parents, that would kinda make me a hypocrite, wouldn't it?"  

you don't know what to say to that. he doesn't seem to have anything else to add either. 

he looks around your old bedroom, eyes sparkling as they catch a picture of the four of you from your first year. satoru's arm is slung around shoko. the dark-haired female has her elbow resting on your shoulder, her tongue sticking out playfully. you're clinging to suguru's arm, and satoru's free hand is squishing your cheeks together. the four of you are laughing. 

nobody has laughed in a while now. 

you tear your gaze away from the picture frame to look at him. he's so unbelievably close, and he's gazing down at you with this foreign look in his eyes, the picture forgotten behind him. 

he slips his fingers into your hair. his palm is large enough that it can brush the side of your face, and you wonder why your body doesn't flinch away from those bloodstained hands.

"it's okay," he mumbles, a faraway look in his eyes. they remain trained on your hair, but it feels like he's looking straight through you. like you're nothing more than a ghost he wants to erase. he's so close—you can count his dark lashes as they brush against his cheeks. "it's difficult. i don't expect you to understand." 

his words incite a sudden flare of anger in your gut. it burns something fierce, and in that moment you hate him. 

"no, i don't," you reply indignantly. he pauses, now really looking at you, and his brows quirk upward in what seems to be surprise, because—well, he's never seen you make such an expression at him before. "you never tried to help me understand. you just left." 

a strained silence follows. his fingers twitch against your cheek.

"this doesn't concern you," he says finally. "i don't need you to understand my actions." 

you recoil, as though he's physically hurt you, and your expression falls so hard that it almost makes him regret saying it. almost. 

"if it doesn't concern me, then why are you here?" you ask again, and you see suguru's shoulders drop. "you know that i have orders to kill you. i might not be able to because you've always been stronger than me. but you know that i'll…" 

go down fighting you, is what you want to say, but the words leave a nasty taste in your mouth. but suguru seems to know what you're implying because a wry smile appears on his lips. his fingers twirl a strand of your wet hair. 

"i'm here to say goodbye," he says finally. another tense silence fills the space between you both, and suguru can see the way your fingers shake between the folds of your towel. 

"you're a little bit late for that, aren't you?" you choke out, a strange tilt to your voice as you break eye contact with him. "you left school weeks ago, and you didn't say a word to me then." 

"better late than never, right?" 

the softness in his tone makes you turn to look at him again, and you desperately want to ingrain the features of his face into your head. the gentle slope of his eyes and sweetness of his smile. he almost looks like the suguru you once knew, and you suddenly have the urge to mourn his death. 

his face becomes blurry, the edges becoming less pronounced, and you can see the way his expression falls. 

"i didn't come all the way here to make you cry." his hand drops from your face and he takes a step back. your fingers hurry to wipe at your waterline, and you shake your head. 

"'m not crying." 

suguru smiles ruefully, and his eyes suddenly look devoid of life. he takes another step back—your heart plummets.

he says your name once, quietly, and it hangs in the air as you wait for him to say more. 

he doesn't. 

"you know that I'm not supposed to let you leave alive, right?" you mumble, fingers toying with the towel in your hand. "but i can't—i mean—"

"hm," he chuckles. "still as sensitive as ever, huh? s'okay…" 

he moves toward you again and his hand gently cups the back of your neck. "i think it's your best quality. makes you better than most people in our world."

he presses his lips to your forehead tenderly, and you feel your eyes widen behind your tears. 

you probably could've stopped him, because you're aware that he's now suddenly behind you, and that he's raising his hand. you can stop him, but a part of you thinks that if it's death at suguru's hands, maybe it's not such a bad way to go. 

you accept your fate then and there. 

you'll find out later that suguru never had the intention to kill you then. perhaps he was waiting for a more opportune time, waiting for there to be a meaning behind it. you're not sure. but when you wake up tucked in your bed cozily, you'll feel the remnants of him lingering around you.

he was warm, and fuzzy, and he smelled like sandalwood and incense.

xiii. sanctify

satoru's at your door again. 

you've memorized his knock patterns. he always knocks three times, then leaves a pause, then twice more. for someone so erratic, he can be quite predictable. 

"what's up, satoru?" you call out, not looking up from your busy hands. there are a couple of empty cardboard boxes open on your bed, and you've been placing things into them all morning. things that should've been put away a long time ago. you pause on one of your old test papers, and in suguru's dark, blocky handwriting you read: 

YOU GOTTA STUDY MORE DUMBASS.

underneath it, satoru had scrawled: 

hotshot failing class now huh? :P

and shoko had added: 

both of you stfu you're failing too 

you had drawn a heart next to her name. 

"whatcha doin'?" a familiar voice chirps. "spring cleaning?"

satoru stands directly behind you, peering over your shoulder. you can practically feel his aura shift when he notices the items you're putting away. 

"cleaning of some sort," you sigh, before turning to look over your shoulder. "i've been…putting it off." 

he doesn't move—just continues to stare down at the paper in your hands. you think maybe you shouldn't have let him in. sometimes you forget that satoru might have his own sensitivities—you've always viewed him as the strongest.

a few strands of his hair tickle your cheek, and you scrunch your nose in response. he then turns to you, eyes blinding as he studies you over the frames of his shades. 

"want help?" 

"please." you don't intend to sound so needy, but the way you whisper the word has him immediately grabbing your wrist and sitting you down next to him on the bed. 

"how are we sorting this stuff?" he asks, his voice oddly calm. he hasn't let go of your arm yet, and some quiet part of you is grateful. 

"i was putting our old school stuff in that box. books, papers…" you answer softly, and satoru nods in understanding. "and in the other box…" 

you inhale deeply through your nose. satoru waits, strangely patient. you're not sure if you're imagining it, but you think he squeezes your wrist. 

"…are all of suguru's things." 

there's a moment of silence—a quick mourning for what is no longer there. 

"it's stupid stuff that he left behind, you know?" you chuckle, even though nothing is funny. "some old shirts from when you two would sleep over, his old textbooks, a few pictures from our holidays—shit like that." 

satoru hums. he's not looking at you—instead he's staring at the box, a frown on his face. 

"i guess he didn't really need those things for where he was going. or for wherever he is now," you mumble. 

"guess not." 

you're not sure what's going through his head. satoru's reaction to suguru leaving had been chaotic at best. it was so hard to tell how he felt about it. you knew he was angry, confused, betrayed. but he never showed things like that. you think it might have to do with being the strongest. you're not sure though—you never were strong like him.

you wish there was a way to tell him that he could share his feelings with you, but you can't think of a way that won't be awkward. 

a ticklish sensation crawls up your wrist and you look down to watch satoru's first two fingers tap against the inside of your palm. his thumb brushes against yours as he lets out a heavy exhale. 

"let's get started then, hotshot." 

he looks down at you as he says the words, and you think you might cry. but you want to be strong, like him, so you offer him a smile. he gives you one in return. you realize there isn't that much warmth in it, not like it used to have—you're sure that yours isn't that warm either. 

but it's enough for the two of you. 

"you look tired, toru," you chuckle wryly, reaching up to brush a few strands of hair from his face. his eyes flutter at the touch, and you honestly think this might be the most vulnerable you've ever seen him. 

"so do you." 

"i am," you admit honestly. 

"'s okay," he mumbles. his fingers tap against your palm once more. "'m here." 

"i know," you answer. you always are.

nothing more is said as satoru stands up. he makes his way over to your desk and pulls one of suguru's old sweaters from your chair. you watch him fold it neatly, smoothing out the creases with care, before placing it into the box—you smile once more. 

you think the scent of sandalwood tickles your nose, but it's gone in an instant.  

both of you work in relative silence, sorting through the things in your room quickly. you're surprised at how bare it looks as you're nearing the end, as though there's nothing more to your life than old high school recollections. 

you finish putting the last few polaroids into the box when satoru speaks up. 

"hey." 

you look up and find him staring at you, so you turn to face him completely, giving him your full attention. 

"zenin toji—" the name sends a painful tingle up your body. "—left something behind." 

you frown. "what are you talking about?" 

"a kid. he's got a kid. and i was gonna go meet him today," satoru shrugs. you try to read his emotions, but as usual, he's giving you nothing. "the old man said something about the zenin clan buying up his kid before i killed him. i was gonna go see if there's something i could do about that." 

you sigh before raising a brow, an amused lilt to your voice. "and why have you kept this a secret?" 

satoru's trademark smirk appears, and he walks over to sling an arm around your shoulders. "who knows?" he quips nonchalantly. "guess i was waiting until we were bored. we need something to do now, don't we?" 

you glance at the packed boxes on your bed, and then look around your empty room. everything is always changing, but satoru is constant. 

"i guess so," you grin. his eyes shine, and for a second you see a familiar teenager at the beach, and then a familiar teenager under an old tree. you think you hear waves, and the crinkling of a bag of chips. 

"good," he chirps, walking you to the door, the arm around your shoulder secure. "his name's megumi, and we're gonna make sure he gets strong."

xiv. idyll

it takes you a little over four months to get used to megumi's eyes. they aren't unsettling or invading, like a certain snowy haired sorcerer, but they do give you chills when you first notice them. chills and a fleeting feeling of metal slicing up and down through your flesh. you just have to steady your breathing and remind yourself that the son is not the father.

tsumiki is an angel. you didn't think that kids that age could be so emotionally competent, but she's a pleasant surprise. she had been awfully protective over megumi, fidgeting with a firm hand on his shoulder as you and satoru invaded their space and upturned their lives. even after they had settled into the humble apartment satoru had purchased, tsumiki was still so overly cautious. it was obvious she still didn't trust either of you, but you thought it was admirable of her, and you relay this thought to satoru one day.

"think they hate us?" he asks, squishing his cheeks between his lithe fingers as he eyes the different milk cartons over the rims of his glasses.

"i'm pretty sure they just don't trust us that much," you reply, placing a few packs of instant ramen into the cart. "can you blame them? we're just random strangers who came up and basically kidnapped them."

"i'd like to say adopted!" he points out with a grin, before he sighs. "but we've already proved we're just doing this to help them. but they still barely talk at all."

"they're just being careful. megumi's still a little young and he looks like he doesn't give a shit about most stuff anyway," you chuckle as you remember the expression on the first grader's face as he spoke to your cocky friend. "and tsumiki's being cautious for both of them."

"she doesn't need to be cautious of us!" satoru dramatically whines, pulling out a carton of whole milk and placing it into the cart. you shiver as the cold air hits your skin, eyeing the sorcerer with an exasperated smile. he shuts the door with a huff. "i've been such a good dad!"

you roll your eyes, shoving his arm as he starts pushing the cart down the aisle. "she definitely should be cautious of you, you creep."

satoru looks down over his shoulder, appalled, though his eyes sparkle with mirth. "and why do you say that?"

"have you seen yourself? crazy 19 year old man that kidnaps kids," you mutter somewhat sarcastically, falling into step with him like it's normal. satoru grins at that—amused.

"i think it's pretty cool of her to be that responsible though," you continue, voice going softer as you think about them, and satoru hums in what you think might be agreement. you suddenly grab his arm, stopping him in his tracks and he turns to look at you.

"you think we should get another carton of milk?" you question, tilting your head at him. "megumi's been drinking it every day after he comes back from school and tsumiki said she wanted to try making milkshakes."

satoru blinks at you, eyes widening before an amused chuckle escapes his lips. you're about to ask what is so funny but he gestures back down the aisle. "go get some."

he waits for you as you go grab another carton, leaning against the cart easily. when you make it back and place the extra milk in the cart, satoru slings an arm around your shoulders. you raise a brow, but he just continues to push the cart with his free hand and says nothing.

so you don't say anything either.

the two of you continue shopping, trying to remember the things you've noticed the kids enjoying because you know they'll be too uncomfortable to outrightly request them. for every sweet snack satoru puts into the cart, you add something that can pass as somewhat healthy, and he hides a teasing grin behind his fist each time.

when you're almost done, satoru motions to the shelves of snacks, raising a brow at you. "what do you need, hotshot?"

you look up from where you're analyzing the contents of the cart. "hm? oh i don't wanna buy anything for myself. i'm good with the stuff i have back at the dorm."

"great," he shrugs with a subtle shake of his head. "except you're not buying anything this time, i am. so pick something."

"what?" you frown, walking over to him. "we're supposed to split groceries for the kids."

"we can split next time." satoru rolls his eyes at you, as though annoyed by your insistence. "i just got paid yesterday and i wanna waste money. pick something."

you groan. "but there really isn't anything i want. if you're gonna pay yourself then let's just go. i think this is good enough."

satoru looks unamused, his eyes boring into yours—bright, dominating, mesmerizing. "oh really? nothing you want?"

you stare at him in confusion as he walks over to the frozen section and opens the door. after a few seconds of rummaging, he pulls out a box. "not even this?"

your shoulders drop. he's holding a tub of strawberry ice cream.

he casually places it into the cart, eyes trained on your expression as he bends down. "it's your favorite, isn't it?"

your voice comes out throaty, and you wet your lips nervously—his eyes follow the movement at lightning speed. "how'd you know?"

satoru scoffs out a haughty chuckle, reaching up to knock a knuckle at your forehead—it's cold. "i know everything about you, hotshot."

he moves to grip at the cart's handle, standing close enough that you can feel the energy radiating off of him. the side of his hand touches yours, still cold. "now we can go."

he sticks by your side, pushing the cart towards the counters as he casually looks around the store. you briefly realize that his shadow doesn't cover you when you're at his side like this. the thought both scares you and pleases you in a way you didn't think was possible.

"thanks toru," you mumble before you can stop yourself. his gives you a sidelong glance—assessing.

his lips twitch. "it's just ice cream."

"no, it's a lot more than that." you're not really sure why you say it so tragically, and satoru inhales sharply. you notice that his knuckles have turned white as he grips the cart's handles. once again, his eyes dart rapidly over your face—between your eyes and then further down.

then he lets out a hushed laugh, nudging your shoulder with his. "as long as you share with me, hotshot."

everything is always changing, but satoru is constant.

you can't help but smile. "always."

you two don't say much as you head to the counter, taking turns placing all the items on the belt. you quietly watch satoru dig into his wallet, feeling oddly content doing so. you think the stars in your eyes will never disappear.

the clerk eyes you both, and suppresses a fond grin. with your close proximity, shared cart, and satoru's easy going smile, you realize that she's probably misunderstanding, but you don't really know how to correct her. satoru says nothing—he just continues smiling, oddly pleased.

he smiles all the way to the car. you catch yourself doing the same in the rear view mirror.

xv. retribution

the first thing you notice when you kneel in front of suguru is that he's bleeding all over the place. you have the strongest urge to scramble and grip his fingers tightly, just as he had done for you so many years ago—but you don't dare. you're too scared that touching him will ruin you completely.

he says your name quietly, and yet it's the loudest thing in the universe to you—crashing over your ears until you've lost all sense of self.

and then he leans forward, his gaze heavy, and his hand comes up to tangle in your hair. his palm rests on the side of your face just like it did when he visited you at your family home. the last time you saw your geto suguru.

except this time he moves further—crosses a line. presses his lips to yours.

he tastes like blood. you don't pull away.

the feeling of his lips shocks you though, and you stay permanently frozen in place as you feel your eyes glaze over with something you can't put into words.

suguru kisses you slowly, deeply, like he's been waiting but wants to savor it. maybe you've been waiting too. you're not sure. you're so confused.

you don't even process the way his tongue slips past your lips, tasting almost eagerly like your mouth is some kind of conquest he's trying to claim.

it's intrusive, but not unwelcome. slow, but not gentle.

you whimper quietly, feeling acid sting down your cheek as he pulls away and his eyes flutter open. he takes in your expression, and a million emotions pass over his face.

a quiet chuckle. "that bad, huh?"

you shake yourself out of it and try to push away the flush creeping up your neck. "w-what?"

"you're crying," he announces, his furrowed eyebrows paired with a sweet smile that makes him look so unbelievably tragic. "the kiss was that bad?"

your face burns, and you raise a shaking hand up to your cheek—it's wet.

"it wasn't—i didn't—" you struggle. "i mean—"

he smiles ruefully. "i'm sorry. you were saving it for someone special, right?"

there's a charged silence that follows as you scour your brain for the conversation he's referencing. when you find it, your heart sinks.

"you've always been special to me, suguru." your voice comes out quiet, but he hears it all the same. his eyes widen fractionally and you can see a light pink dust his cheeks before he laughs. it's soft, hushed, and looks like it's painful, but he lets it run its course.

it reminds you of a laugh from so long ago, at a beach, with childish screams echoing against the sound of waves. you think you can feel strawberry ice cream dripping down your wrist.

his laughs die down and he's left smiling softly at you. his lavender eyes sparkle with mirth as he tilts his head. "i'm glad. that you were the one i gave a room to."

you can hear waves in your ears, crashing crashing drowning. sand is in your hands, in between your toes, in your eyes.

he coughs, and his palm shakes against your cheek. you wonder why he doesn't just let go already dammit suguru.

you inhale sharply, trying so hard to breathe because what is that stupid thing that's clogging your throat and preventing you from speaking? there's so much you have to say to him. so many questions. so many things left unsaid. your words are failing you.

but silence with suguru has never once been uncomfortable, right?

you raise a shaky hand to press against his where it lays against your neck. "do you regret it?"

he licks his lips, smiling faintly, as though he's enjoying the new taste of you on them. "no."

"why not?" you whisper. your body unconsciously shuffles closer to him, chasing his warmth because gods is he warm. he's always been so warm, even now, in the throes of death.

"my feelings are still the same. i still hate the monkeys for everything they've done, all the crap they cause." he shuts his eyes, smiling that serene smile. you wish he was leaning against a tree trunk. "i still have no resentment to those at jujutsu tech. and you, i still…"

he doesn't continue. you don't think you want him to. there's a flush crawling up his neck, the faint pink a stark contrast to the red of blood. it makes you nauseous.

another deep inhale, and his thumb slides over your jawbone, before brushing under your bottom lip. he stares at the flesh heavily, letting his finger press into it. his tongue swipes over his own lips, eyes darkening further.

and then something shifts in his face, and he smiles mirthlessly. his hand drops from your face—broken contact.

he doesn't tear his gaze away from you, committing your face to memory. it's almost like he wants to say something, but decides against it at the last minute as he slumps further into the wall behind him and shuts his eyes.

when he speaks again, you know that it is all over.

"you're late, satoru."

[jensthwa]

show & tell pt. 2 (SMG x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

After the… masterclass you gave Mingi the night before, you’re left anxious on what the future holds for you both. But there’s a pool party you promised you would attend and there’s not really time for you to figure your feelings out before your best friend shows up at your door to drive you to it. So maybe today is not the day to figure your feelings out, right? It’s just a pool party anyways, so nothing out of the ordinary is going to happen… right?

PAIRING: best friend!mingi x afab reader.

GENRE: childhood best friends (idiots) to lovers.

WORD COUNT: 11k.

WARNINGS: SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI) anxiety attack, attempt !!! at comedy, wooyoung being a little shit part two ft jongho, a new oc being the voice of reason, reader is clueless and in denial i fear, jealousy, miscommunication, fighting so this part is just a tiny bit angsty :(, confessions, teasing, face sitting, hand job, car sex (don't do it in public people, it can get you arrested), pet names (love and baby), a plot line at the end none of you guys are going to get until my new wip drops but it's worth the wait!

NOTES: hey everyone! thank you so much for patiently waiting for this second and last part to drop. i think that, after this one, if you guys want to request any drabbles or if i come up with some scenarios for this couple i will post them but for now nothing is on the works. what is on the works is a wip that's part of the same universe as this one, so pay attention to the new characters i mention if you want any clues! this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: july 28th 2024.

TAGLIST (sorry if i forgot anyone, pls let me know!): @vannerriin / @mingtinysworld / @purple-bell / @bakepotatoman / @nxy3h / @taehyungmami / @nxcxllxsevens / @breadpuddingboys / @hotteokkay

masterlist.

When you wake the next morning, the consequences of restless sleep show up in your face as a reminder of what happened the night before. 

It's not that you regret it, it's more the fact that you feel so unapologetic about messing with the perfect dynamic you have with Mingi that caused you to toss and turn so much. 

Last night, after putting your duvet back on and then crashing into the mattress feeling all tingly and giddy, you asked yourself a thousand questions. 

The main one being: What the fuck did you do? 

The words kept repeating over and over in your head, your voice of reason (or your anxiety) screaming at you to get your phone and make it right before everything becomes a complicated, unresolvable mess. 

You had a brief moment of panic and heavy breathing, your chest tight with unspoken emotion and your eyes filled with tears. 

It was too much, so you forced yourself up and paced around for what felt like hours trying to get your feet back on the ground. Nothing was working, so you sat down at your desk and rested your forehead against it. 

When you didn't feel the usual coolness of the wood, a comfort sensation for when your studies got the best out of you for the day, and instead felt a pen almost stab you in the eye, you -very confused- leaned back. 

Mingi’s notebook and the pen he didn't put back on the pencil case seemed to stare back at you lovingly instead of mocking you for losing control over your own emotions. 

A sense of peace washed over you when you flipped the pages and landed on the instructions he wrote down. Memories of the amazing years you have had by his side started crossing your mind, like recomforting flashes that allowed your heartbeat to go back to normal: 

The first day you saw Mingi, chasing behind a worn out soccer ball and then kicking it so hard it landed on your lawn. 

The first time you two hugged, when your dad scolded you for having bad grades until you cried in front of him. 

The way he held your hand before heading inside to take the college admission exam, last year of highschool. 

His kind eyes. His reassuring smile. The way he made you feel just a few hours back. 

There's no getting rid of me either, love.

We'll figure it out. 

Letting a few contained tears run down your cheeks, you nodded to yourself as if he was there in the room with you. 

Yeah, you'll figure it out.  

And then proceeded to, very much, not figure shit out for the rest of the night. You could still feel his hands everywhere and hear his voice against your ear whispering how much he knows you and pays attention to you. 

You are fucked. 

It's all you can think about when you get ready for the day. It's all you can think about when you help your dad with lunch and when you let your parents know at the table that you are going out that same afternoon. 

“Mingi is driving you, right?” 

“Yeah…” you whisper in response, eyes focused on one specific spot at the table and mind a million years away from the conversation. 

“Good. He's such a good kid, Y/N, I'm glad he knows how to take care of you.” 

Choking on air when your brain finally catches up to her words, you look back up at your mother in shock “W-what?” 

“Yeah honey, what? Y/N can take care of herself,” your father chips in, unaware of your red cheeks or the honest expression of panic you're giving both of them “She's a big girl that carries around that, uh… What was it?— Ah, that pepper spray I gave her, right?” 

“R-right.” 

He lets out a satisfied see? at your answer, gives you a tiny smile and gets up from the table to take his finished plate over to the sink. 

Your mom stays behind, giving you a look you can't quite read before her usual calm expression washes it away. Only then, you can take a proper, very needed, calming breath. 

“I need to get ready. Thank you for the food.” 

“You made it, dear.” 

“I mean! For taking care of the, uh, plates,” you clumsily correct yourself right away, getting up from the table as well “Love you. Bye!” 

You don't miss the confused giggle on your way to your room and when you're behind closed doors, you finally take into consideration that you might be, in fact, overreacting.

Not much, you think, but just enough to give your feelings away. And it's truly a shame, because you were planning on concealing and bottle everything up until it, inevitably, blows up in your face. 

Maybe not the smartest option. 

If you bang your head against the wall with enough force maybe, just maybe it’ll help—

Someone's texting you. 

> gi: heeeeey > gi: just woke up lol > gi: had the best sleep ever tho > gi: how are you, love? 

Okay. So normal texting it is. Maybe your initial plan of just pretending nothing happened is, coincidentally, Mingi’s plan as well. 

So you type in it's literally almost one, ya lazy and let your thumb hover over the send button, eyebrows creased at a sudden realization. 

The casual texting annoys you. 

Sure, Mingi is used to keeping everything casual between him and the people he sleeps with, but you're not just anyone! You didn't sleep together, either! 

Oh, maybe that's why. 

But it ticks you off either way. 

Is he not feeling the same way you do? Did it mean something different for him than it did to you? What did it even mean to you in the first place?

Why, after all the panic you felt the night before, did you have any sort of expectation for today? 

It doesn't make any sense. 

You hit send. 

> gi: aaaaand?  > gi: god forbid a man gets a good night's rest after being thrown off a bed. 

Scoffing, your eyes roll before you can even control it and, to your demise, the giddiness returns. You respond with did you get hurt? awww and raise a hand to your blushed cheek before sending the message.

> gi: yeah wtf  > gi: my butt is all bruised.  > gi: kiss it better? 

Oh. 

Not casual texting. At. All. 

Or maybe it is? 

Ugh.

Blanking on everything Mingi has ever texted you before, you decide it's best to entertain yourself by getting all pretty to sit around the house party tonight and do nothing else instead of torturing your confused brain any longer. 

Using the help of an emoji to flip him off and, hopefully, gather yourself together enough to get ready, you shoot him another text rushing him to do the same because you don't want to be late. 

And he usually takes forever to get ready anyways.

Showering with very cold water, taking a good thirty minutes to decide whether to wear something comfy and fitting or sexy and fitting for the party do the job when it comes to taking your mind off him for, at least, the time being. 

Yunho was insistent the day before in that you didn't need to bring a bathing suit if you didn't want to, but you pack one anyways because you can sense Wooyoung's and Jongho’s intentions even if the youngest couldn't make it to your impromptu gathering yesterday. 

They know you hate when they get away with annoying you and throwing you into the nearest body of water -in this case, Yunho’s pool- in front of many people you don't know (therefore, you are not going to able to go insane mode on them) seems like the perfect opportunity to get away with it.

The last time they did it you weren't really able to scold them properly either, so they laughed and pointed at you until you threatened to kick their asses in a very dishonest but playful way. 

Mingi, of course, did nothing but laugh along with everyone else and then kiss your forehead as an apology later that day. 

That was last summer and since then both perpetrators have treated you to meals and buttered you up enough for you to forgive (as if you didn't do that the morning that followed the incident) but you never forget. 

Maybe you should. It would make the sight of Mingi parking outside your house easier, you think.

You're sure he's parking outside just to give your dad, who comes out to greet him with a hug, some peace of mind. He's very protective of you and he trusts Mingi even if he gives him a hard time everytime he sleeps over or takes you somewhere.  

Like now, you have a very clear view through your window of the sermon he's giving your best friend. You don't hear it but he's moving his hands in the air way too much for it not to be a clear step by step on what to do if you run into any trouble on the way to Yunho's. 

Mingi likes step by step and he's good at following instructions, so you don't think it's going to be an issue. 

God damnit, Y/N, get it together. 

Sighing, you pick up your bag, check your outfit once in front of the mirror, and rush downstairs and out of the door. 

“You do know how to change a tire, son?” 

Mingi is standing in front of your dad with his hands behind his back and a tight smile. 

“Yes sir, my dad taught me and then at the school they made sure I didn't forget about it.” 

“And make sure to—” 

“Could you let the guy breathe, dad?” 

They both turn to, your dad wears a mocking smile and you see Mingi’s tight one breaks into a genuine one a second later. A grateful one, even. 

He looks really good. Which is insane, considering that to you he looked like Chewbacca just yesterday morning. 

Crazy what a good orgasm can do to a person. Or maybe it's the first time you ever let yourself see him in this light. Either way, he's wearing light wash jeans and a fitted t-shirt that clings to him just right and it's going to drive you insane, you can just feel it. 

“I was just making sure that he—” 

“Knows what to do,” you nod “He knows what he's doing, dad. Stop giving him a hard time,” you give your dad a quick kiss on the cheek and then rush to the passenger seat, giving Mingi a glance so he can get in the car as well. 

“Alright. Love you, take care!” 

“Love you too, Mr. L/N!” Mingi says, getting into his seat and giving your dad the opportunity to see when he fastens his seatbelt. He doesn't say anything else, even though he didn't tell Mingi specifically that he loved him and instead gives you both a nod of approval. 

When Mingi finally drives off your street and into the main one, you sigh in relief. 

“He's neeever going to trust me, huh?” 

“He trusts you,” you say right away, cheek resting against the seat so you can take a proper look at him “I'm his only daughter and you're a man after all. Cut him some slack.” 

“He never cuts me some slack!” he fights back but you just laugh and he can't help but join you “You look really good, by the way. A dress? Are you trying to impress someone?” The tone he uses sparks the remaining tension from the night before, like zero time has passed since he kissed you goodnight by your front door. 

When you got into the car with Mingi, you didn't consider that you two would be alone for, at least, forty minutes before getting to your destination. Your mind skipped the fact that he has this new ability to fluster you by just existing near you and you curse it for not letting you prepare well enough for the way he's looking at you right now. 

“Obviously,” you answer in a whisper, clearing your throat a second later “Wooyoung needs to be distracted so he doesn't tackle me into the pool the second we get there. Don't know if it's gonna work on Jongho, though.” 

Mingi clicks his tongue, baring his teeth and pretending to really think about it “I don't think so, love. You'll have to bribe him into considering dropping their whole summer schtick for you.” 

“You can help me with that.” 

“Can I now?” 

“Yeah. You can just… lock him up in a room and my dress can do the rest of the work.” 

Your best friend laughs and then takes a hand off the steering wheel to roll the hem of your dress in between his thumb and index. His knuckles brush against your thigh and you almost -almost- make a noise at the sensation. 

“It's not the dress, love… It's who's wearing it.” 

A bit of silence passes within the both of you. 

“Shut the fuck up, Song Mingi.” 

Laughter fills the car and drowns out the honking on the other side of the street and you wonder why you were worried in the first place. 

Nothing has changed. 

Aside from the intention laced with the flirting, it feels the same way it ever did and you couldn't be more glad because now that you know Mingi doesn't hate you (like you thought for a brief moment last night) or wants to hard launch a relationship that doesn't exist to your friends the second he gets them all together in the same room, you can enjoy the car ride and the evening that's about to follow it.

So you flirt with him freely, listen and sing along to songs that just feel like summer summarized in three minutes of exquisite writing and roll your window down once Mingi takes a turn into a hill, trees replacing the buildings you're so used to seeing. 

Your friend is rich rich. His family makes good money and his parents go on lots of business trips. That being said, it's the first time you actually attend one of his parties, and so when you get to Yunho’s house and ring the doorbell, you’re caught by surprise because you can already hear the loud music playing in the backyard and the blend of new and familiar voices through the thick door. 

You expect him to open the door for you but Seonghwa’s smile is the first thing you see before you and Mingi both have the opportunity to step in. 

“You made it!” 

“It's pretty hard to miss this house, Hwa.” 

Your older friend side-hugs you and stays by your side while Mingi takes it upon himself to put your bags for the day in the pile of other bags next to the door “How are you doing today?” 

You're about to answer but when you look at him, you see him staring at Mingi, so you do too. He's staring at Hwa with a little smile “I'm doing good. I blocked her and everything and I can confidently say that…” he turns to you “My ego’s not bruised anymore.” 

If Seonghwa catches the spark between you and you best friend, he decides to ignore it “That's goo—” 

“Mingi!” 

What the hell is she doing here? 

Not, not that bitch from yesterday but this girl who Mingi meets with sometimes. You don't really know her, you just know she's gorgeous and that her name starts with an h, maybe? 

She's a fashion major and it shows in the way she's dressed up today. Truly, an enjoyable company whenever she's around at frat parties, a saving grace when you're tired of surrounding yourself with only men. 

Right now? She's your worst nightmare. 

Wrapping her arms around Mingi’s neck and getting on her tippy toes to kiss his cheek, she smiles like she knows she's getting laid tonight and your best friend does nothing to pull her away. 

She doesn't even say hi to you before dragging him to the backyard! You and Seonghwa follow them and when she takes Mingi’s arm and pulls him over to -you assume- introduce him to her friends, you almost stomp your feet like a little kid. 

Trying to get rid of the annoyed frown on your face, you turn to Hwa with a teasing smile and your eyebrows raised. 

“Well fuck me, am I right?” 

“I might!” Arms wrap around your waist and you feel Woo’s chin resting on your shoulder immediately after “That's a very nice dress, Y/N.” 

If Mingi was next to you, like you want him to be, you would give him a I told you so glance. Instead, you just look at Seonghwa with absolute horror before he snickers and goes away. 

“Right? And it looks horrible when it's drenched in nasty chlorine water.” 

“You can't possibly know that.” 

“I know a lot of things and— No! Woo, please don't,” you beg when he lifts you off the ground for a second. Behind you, you hear laughs and, even though you can't see them, you know it's San and Jongho “I just got here and I haven't even changed yet, please.” 

He turns you around and hugs you properly this time before letting you go. You take the opportunity to punch him in the arm and then go over to San and Jongho to do the same. 

“We'll let you get your swimsuit on this time.” 

“You're so considerate, Jong. Seriously, they're going to give you the Nobel prize if you don't stop.” He mocks you, repeating what you just said in a higher pitched voice and you laugh as you sit next to Wooyoung’s ex-girlfriend, Gyuri. 

San also has a girl sitting beside him with his arm around her, but you don't really know her so you just wave at her. They're all in their bathing suits already “See how he tried to flirt with me to try to get me with my guard down? He's a monster.” 

“And in front of me, too? The nerve on this guy.” Gyuri, of course, backs you up immediately and you want to return her smile, but you can see Mingi from the corner of your eye and it's distracting. 

“Oh, they're ganging up on me already,” Wooyoung whines, sitting down in front of you both and handing you a drink “It's like my worst nightmare.” 

“He's enjoying it, don't let him convince you otherwise,” San says, getting up from his seat and taking his girl with him “Especially coming from you.” He points at Gyuri and you laugh. 

“We're just friends now!” 

“That's what you told me like three years ago before—” 

Wooyoung gets up to chase after him and San lets go of the girl's hand to try to get away from him. 

Turns out, you're not the one Woo tackles into the pool. This time, him and San crash down on the water hard and a few droplets of water wet your feet. Gyuri laughs and everyone else does too when they realize what's happening. 

Jongho gets up and joins them in the water soon after to try and help (kinda, not really) San escape the wrath of his best friend. 

You almost miss it, because you take the opportunity to look at your best friend and, when you do, he's already looking at you. 

Breath catches on your throat and the lump that forms afterwards has a name and a reason: Mingi is looking at you with so much longing it physically hurts. 

He looks like wants to drop everything and come and confuse your fragile mind even more, just like he did the night before. 

Then why the fuck is he there with whatever her name is and her friends and not sitting right next to you? 

You look away, grasping your drink for emotional support and convincing yourself you're starting to see things that are not actually there. 

“Why the fuck are y'all fighting this time?!” Yunho comes from inside the house and it's the first time you see him today “No choking! No running! It's literally in the rules!” 

“Wooyoung please let go of my boyfriend!” 

Ah. So she is San’s girlfriend. Still, you turn to Gyuri to ask. 

“Who is sh—” 

“San’s new girlfriend, Kyungmi. We don't give a fuck about her or San right now, we're mad at them,” you want to ask who we is, because Wooyoung seems like he's just playing, but she interrupts you again “What the fuck is going on with you and Mingi?” 

Huh?! 

You make a quick mental review of your plan. Conceal? Clearly it didn't work. Bury your emotions deep so no one notices? You probably can't recover from the way you smile just dropped. 

The only thing left on the list is pretend that you're insane, but you're not sure it'll work either. So you turn it on her: “Nothing much. He played Espresso like three times on a row on the way here and I almost kill him, but—” 

“You can't bullshit me, Y/N.” 

Great, that didn't work either. 

“I saw that. Seonghwa did too but he got up before I could convince him to ambush you,” she dramatically sighs, chugging the rest of her drink down “So, what is going on?” 

“Nothing,” that much is true “he's literally with a girl right now.” 

“And she will never mean as much to him as you do. Next.” 

“Gyuri… I really don't know what you want me to say.” 

Squinting her eyes at you suspiciously, Gyuri takes her time before answering and you fidget in your seat a little. Wooyoung liked her for a reason, she's feisty and goes straight to the point and it's something you usually admire but right now it's not the time for her to do this. 

“I just thought maybe it finally happened…” She whispers and shrugs the entire conversation off before getting up “Let's head inside. They're going to start grilling meat at any second and I also don't want to be near Wooyoung when he gets out of there.” She points at him and you laugh. 

Jongho has him in a chokehold and Yunho is trying to separate them while San desperately swims towards his girl that's still waiting for him near the edge of the pool. 

“Sure thing.” 

You pretend you don't feel Mingi's eyes on you as you move. 

This is not unusual. Whenever you all go to parties, hosted by someone inside of the friend group or not, you end up separating from Mingi. 

He does his thing. He's outgoing and he likes dancing while you enjoy conversation and drinking away at the rest of the party, occasionally making out with someone and calling it a night when your social battery runs out. 

So you hang out with Gyuri in the kitchen until the sun starts going down and when the last ray of it disappears you decide it's time to swim a bit before you're too tipsy for it to be safe. 

Grabbing your bag and greeting some new people you don't know at the door, you head up to the bathroom you are told by the host himself it's upstairs. 

When you're tying up the strands of your swimsuit, the door slams open and you jump and cover yourself up with your hands because you're not able to finish the job, so the strands fall down and the only thing holding the top part of the fabric it's you. 

“What the fuck, Mingi?” 

Turning around, you're only able to look at him through the mirror. 

“Lock the door next time! What if it was somebody else?” 

“People usually knock!” 

“I didn't mean to scare you, it's the door’s fault,” he makes a fool of himself trying to prove it “See? I— let me help you with that,” he closes the door again and, this time, he locks it before taking a short step and grabbing the strands of your top “It's the second time this week I scare you like that, huh? I’m sorry, love.” He ties the strands together with a secure knot and his apology finally allows your tense muscles to relax. 

You remind yourself that there's no valid reason for you to be mad at him. You'll figure it out, he said it himself, and maybe today is not the day to do so. 

But he's not stepping away once he's finished, he's not even saying anything else before his hands grab your waist and his chest collides to your back. 

Looking at him through the mirror again, you silently ask him with your eyes what he thinks he's doing. He ignores you, bending down so the tip of his nose can trace the skin on the side of your neck. 

“I missed you,” his voice sounds like honey when he says it and you, once again, curse the ability he has to make you crumble “and you disappeared like an hour ago.” 

You let out a sigh. 

“I was in the kitchen, Mingi, not missing and we were in the same space for at least twenty minutes before that and like… forty minutes in a car, together.” You remind him and he frowns “Besides, you were with Ha… Haneul?” 

“Hanni,” he corrects and you huff out a whatever “and she was introducing me to some of her friends that are in the same major as me, just a year over.” 

“Cool.” 

He pecks your shoulder. You do your best to not melt completely into him and fix your hair in the mirror. 

“Y/N…” he starts and you hum in acknowledgement “I missed you.” 

It pisses you off for some reason. The mature thing to do is to let him know but the words that leave you are petty and laced with annoyance. 

“I’m sure you did, buddy.” 

He grins against your skin and you turn around to face him, eyebrow raising. 

“What's so amusing?” 

At your tone, he seems taken aback but his smile stays curving his lips upwards.

“I'm just really happy to have this moment with you,” he says, matter of factly, and you press your hands against his chest to regain some personal space. He doesn't budge an inch “What's going on?” 

He's such a guy sometimes. 

“You're here, kissing my neck, while a gorgeous girl who I'm sure is waiting for you downstairs is probably bragging to her friends about how she's going home with you tonight and—” 

“Y/N, I'm literally taking you home.” 

“I can easily take a car back— Mingi, seriously,” taking a deep breath, you stare at him with all the honesty you can gather “I don't want to do whatever this is if afterwards you're going downstairs to dance and flirt with Haneul or whatever her name is.” 

He looks like he wants to correct you on it again, so you level him with a daring glance. 

He keeps his mouth shut. 

“And I also don't want you to hurt her feelings if you tell her you can't leave with her tonight, so—” 

“I don't give a shit about her feelings, love.” 

“Mingi, don't say that!” 

“I don't! I wasn't flirting with her at all, either! Listen, it's…” he stops to chuckle for a few seconds “I mean, it's adorable that you're jealous but there's no reason for you to—” 

“Shut the fuck up, Song Mingi.” 

It's the second time today you have said those exact words to him. The first time, you also felt your heart bang with such force against your rib cage but for a completely different reason. 

“I'm not one of the girls you fuck on the side when you're horny or bored out of your mind. Don't fucking treat me like one.” You warn and suddenly the image of you telling him that teaching him yesterday could mess you both up crosses your mind.  

“I'm not, Y/N! I'm just saying that you look adorable when you're—” 

“Jealous? Why would I be jealous when we are not together, Mingi? I'm literally looking out for the girl!” 

“You don't even know her name, love.” 

“That's not the fucking point!” 

He finally takes a step away from you, closing his eyes and taking a calming breath, surely.

Now you're pissed off because he saw right through you and your words. 

That disgusting weight on your chest you felt back by the pool while you kept staring at him from the corner of your eye? Jealousy. 

Now that he brought it up, it makes sense. 

You hate it. 

You always hated being put in a position where you felt the need to compare yourself to others. Always hated how easy it is for anger to run through your blood and infiltrate every waking thought until it clouds your judgment. 

Because you shouldn't be angry. He just said he didn't care about her feelings. 

And yet, all you can think about is that he spent an hour with her instead of you. 

When he turns to you, there's a storm in his eyes and you just don't want to hear it tonight. 

“Save it, keep it, sleep on it and we'll talk tomorrow,” picking your dress from the spot on the floor it's been sitting all this time, you put the fabric on, take your bag and then unlock the door “I’m going home.” 

You don't give him the opportunity to say anything else before getting out of the bathroom but you do hear a groan when you're rushing downstairs. 

Yeosang and Yunho are just leaving the kitchen when you trip on the last step and the host jogs the few steps to you after laughing. 

“There you are, Y/N. Listen, there's some meat already grilled back there but we're—” 

“I'm actually going home, Yun,” you cut him short “I'm not feeling that well. My plan was to swim a little before leaving but I don't think I can do it.” 

“Did something happen or…?” 

What happened is coming downstairs as he asks. 

“Nope. Nothing, I just think I'm catching a cold or something. Thank you so much for inviting me though!” You hug your friend quickly, kissing his cheek before pulling away. 

“Always…” Yunho is very observant but, as you always do, he doesn't press you with questions about what's going on “He's taking you home?” Pointing behind you, you don't have to turn around to get what he means. 

“Ye—” 

“No. He's having a great time here, I don't want to get in the way,” you shrug “I'll just get an uber or something. Don't worry.” 

Yunho frowns slightly, eyes moving from your face to over your shoulder. 

Immature. Petty. Rude. 

You're sure that's the way you’re coming off right now. But feeling anger bubbling behind the smile you give Yunho, you think it's better they make their assumptions instead of actually seeing you upset. 

You move to hug Yeosang as well and he murmurs his farewell. When you turn around, Mingi is no longer there and you don’t spare a look towards the floor to ceiling glass windows that separate the living area from the backyard because you're sure he's sitting right beside that girl again. 

As he should be. 

You bolt for the door, giving your friends a tiny smile before going down the few steps and into the hill. It's already dark and you're sure no uber driver it's going up this hill for the tip you're able to offer them, so you figure your best shot is to go down and try to find a cab on the main street. 

The light from your phone illuminates your scowl as you walk. Past the bushes and the trees and the lines of parallel parked cars where Mingi’s Lexus is. 

You don't notice him there until he opens the backdoor to block your step. 

“Get in the car, I'm taking you home.” 

Closing the door he just opened to stop you, you shake your head. 

“I told you I'm getting a ride and—”

“I don't give a fuck. Get in the car.” And then he's opening his door and closing it so fast it gives you no room for debating. 

He's angry. Shit. 

You can't even see him through the tinted window to assess how much damage you have done, so you look down the hill one more time and wonder if making the run for it is worth it. 

When your phone lights up with a notification from Gyuri asking you if everything's okay and to make it home safe, you take it as a sign to round the car and get into the passenger side with an annoyed huff. 

The engine comes to life. You're not looking at him but at the trees until the leaves start showing the building lights in-between them and soon you're on the main road. 

You can't even ask him to turn the radio on. Stubborn, you refuse to let the anger inside of you dissipate in fear of shame taking over. It's better being angry than being ashamed, at least in this exact moment because you can practically feel Mingi's anger through the silent treatment. 

But you need to say something. The silence is suffocating and the street is surprisingly empty so you can't distract yourself with anything. 

“You shouldn't have bothered.” 

“I am bothered. You bothered me.” 

Clenching your jaw, you turn to him in disbelief “I told you to stay at the goddamn party so we can fix this tomorrow but I bothered you?”

“Did I stutter or something?” 

“No, you're just not making any fucking sense!” 

“Yeah, fuck this,” you see him look around, biting the inside of his cheek like he's holding his words in “We're fixing this right now.” 

The car makes a harsh turn and you have to grab the door for support. 

“Mingi!” He's not listening to you anymore. His hard gaze stays on the road, it feels like forever before he pulls into a somewhat empty parking lot and when the vehicle stops you go to open the door and get the fuck away from him before you two kill eachother inside this car. 

That's an exaggeration but with the way he turns off the car and unbuckles his seatbelt, you know your pride doesn't stand a chance. 

The summer breeze briefly hits your face before his hand is on yours, closing the door and preventing you from, once again, escaping the situation. 

Frustrated, you let out a loud groan “What the fuck is your problem?!” 

“I don't know, Y/N! But I'll tell you what your problem is, alright?” he chuckles. It's a humorless sound, his face painted in something you've never seen before “Your problem is that you assume you know what everyone else is feeling and you assume you're right. But intuition can only get you so far, love, so I need you to take your head out of your ass and think logically for a second.” 

Flabbergasted, you think you murmur something in your defense but he cuts you short. 

“No! You didn't let me get a word out back there so now you're going to shut up and listen,” he pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes “You assume you're smarter than everyone else but you're actually so dumb. Dumb, you're acting very dumb and reckless, Y/N! That back there?” he points out of the window to nothing but you know what he means “Leaving— Scratch that. Leaving me and not giving me a chance to say anything back? Trying to go down that hill alone and in the dark? Stupid.” 

Staring back at him with watery eyes, you don't even know what to say back except a whispered excuse me?

“And usually I would beat up anyone who even dares to call you that but I guess all these years I've been wrong about you. Because if you were smart, you would've realized that Hanni means nothing to me and I mean nothing to her. There's nothing, she loves appearances and that's it.” 

You knew that already, but you're not giving your stance up. 

What even is your stance? Ah, right, he treated you like an envious no one back there and not like his best friend.  

“Yeah, I can tell you mean nothing to her from the whiny tone and the hug and the dragging you to meet her friends, Mingi.” Scoffing at the memory, your lips press into a thin line. 

“Well, she's a friendly girl!” 

“She didn't even say hi to me!” 

“So she doesn't like you, Y/N! Who cares!” you sure don't but, again, you just stare at him in disbelief and his open arms, palms to the sky “Do you care? Because I don't! And guess what? I doesn't fucking matter if she likes you or not or if she wants me or not because I like you!” 

What? 

“W-what?” 

“I like you! And I'll choose you over her and everyone else again and again and again until you notice but fuck it's so tiring. You're so fixated on why I let her drag me to her friends that you completely ignored me the rest of the time we were there and maybe if you looked at me more than once you would've realized that I was staring back at you the whole afternoon!” 

You let out an annoyed chuckle “So you were, Mingi.” 

“I was! I was trying to get you to look at me and notice how bad I wanted you to come over, rescue me from that boring ass conversation, grab my hand and claim your place right beside me because—” he pauses, resting a hand on the steering wheel and looking at you like he can't believe he has to spell this out for you “Because I want nothing more than for her and everyone to know I’m yours! I'm sure everyone already fucking knows too, except you. So yeah, sometimes, you're pretty fucking dumb for such a smart woman, Y/N.” 

Words escape you. They escape your mind, your reason and your pride shrinks until it disappears behind all the love you feel for Mingi. 

So that's what you are feeling. That's what you felt yesterday night when the tiredness couldn't drown out your thoughts of him and all he meant to you. 

Love, love, love. In all its forms, in all its possible scenarios. Your heart burns for it and you used to think that your hopeless romantic desires began and died with the movies you tend to see and the books you tend to read, that it was impossible to feel this way for anyone but there he is, chest heaving in the yellow interior light, waiting for you to say something back. 

“And I realize that before yesterday I showed no interest in you but believe me when I say that I—” 

Shakily, you interrupt him with whispered words, heart soaring and hands reaching out to cup his beautiful face “Shut the fuck up, Song Mingi.” 

When you kiss him, you make sure to pour out everything you couldn't say a minute ago into it. 

When he kisses you back with the same feeling, it crosses your mind that he already forgave you. 

And when he grabs your waist and drags you over the break handle and the transmission to collide his chest against yours and drag his tongue along the seam of your bottom lip, you think that, for the first time ever, you have to tell him he's right. 

You are stupid. Stupid for not realizing it sooner, stupid for confusing his longing stares for something platonic, stupid for thinking you could wait until tomorrow to tell him he has the right to see and be with anyone he wants to because this is it. 

This. The way your entire body comes alive when he sighs into your mouth and groans at the way your knee opens up his legs to make room for you on his side of the car and partially on his lap. The way his thumbs run through your cheeks and dry the tears you didn't even feel falling down. The way your heart jumps frantically and the way its beats could get confused by his because you're so close. 

Suddenly and unexpectedly, you can't recall a time Mingi didn't make you feel this exact same way. It's overwhelming, it expands through you like a fire and it knocks the remaining air out of your lungs enough for you to pull away and rest your forehead against his, shaky breaths tangling together and fingers grasping the neck of his shirt in an attempt to ground yourself. 

You sniffle, incapable of not feeling emotional over his confession and your realization “I'm sorry, Mingi. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for treating you that way I was… I behaved like…” 

“An ass.” He nods and you look at him with the ghost of a smile tugging at your lips. 

“Yeah,” you nod as well “I was an ass. A jealous ass.” 

“I know, love.” He whispers, eyes moving on your face before his lips are on yours again, briefly, sweetly, even if you don't feel like you deserve it “You tend to forget that I know you, hm? That I've seen you jealous before? You were an ass back then, too.” 

“Okay! Okay, stop calling me an ass, I get it.” 

“I'm sorry for waiting for you to do something when you didn't even… I guess you didn't know, right? The way I feel about you?” 

“I know now,” you whisper back, nudging your nose against his and then putting some distance so you can see him better “I feel the same way, by the way. We're shit at communicating, apparently, so I'll just tell you now that—” 

His lips are on yours again and he's giggling against them and shaking his head when he pulls away. Brown eyes search for yours and you're not sure what he's looking in them but he seems to find it, his muscles relaxing against the leather of his seat seconds later. 

So you kiss him again. And again and again until your back starts hurting and the steering wheel is pressed uncomfortably against it, forcing you to shift on his hold. 

“Let me… Wait.” He lets you go to pull his seat back and then closes his legs, forcing your knee to fall on his other side so you can fully straddle his lap “That's better. Now come here.” And then he’s grabbing the back of your neck and stealing your breath away again with another kiss.

The tension shifts right then. When he can fully feel you pressing up against him and when a noise escapes you once his hands drop and give your bare legs the attention you didn't even know you were craving. 

You thought a second ago that the sweet kisses would stop once you were both sated with the sweet aftermath of all the yelling and confessing but now you don't want it to stop. 

There's a lot to catch up on, a lot of missed time you need to make up for. 

You still want to make him feel good. The sparks from yesterday come alive again and soon you're yanking the strands of dark hair with your fingers and letting your mouth explore the skin of his neck. When you sink your teeth into his skin, he lets out the same noise he did the night before and you smile against the mark you just made. 

His lips find your shoulder and he breathes hard into it once your hips start moving at their own accord, slowly yet firmly, the pad of his fingers digging hard on your thighs until you break away from his neck to focus on his face again. 

“This goddamn dress, love.” 

Humming, you caress his red cheek with your lips “What about it?” 

“Been thinking about it all day…” 

“It worked, by the way.” 

“Woo?” 

“Mhm. Distracted him so he didn't throw me in the pool right away.” 

“And Jongho?” 

“Probably plotting against me right now.” 

He laughs softly into your skin “Probably.” 

Chuckling as well, you stop your movements and take in how he looks. Gone, a little too fucked up from just making out, lips swollen and eyes clouded with something you're getting too familiar with, too quick. 

“Worked on you, too.” 

He smiles and shrugs, letting his head drop into the headrest “You look good in everything, love. It doesn't really matter what you wear.” 

“Oh?” 

A firm hand trails up your body, slowly, from you leg to your hip, your waist to the side of your breasts and your until it cops your face with affection you never imagined you would experience. 

“I have always thought you are the most beautiful girl to ever exist.” 

This is it. 

Leaning into his touch, your lips connect to the palm of the hand holding you before you lean forward again. 

“I love you, Mingi.” 

He doesn't seem surprised by your confession and you're glad he knows. It doesn't really matter if it's too soon, if you even mean it in a romantic way or not, the love you have for him transcends all labels. 

“I love you too, Y/N.”

And his does too. 

You kiss him until it hurts. 

He kisses you until you're gasping and your body is pleading for more. 

The both of you kiss each other until you're sure nothing else will replace the taste of one another, that it will linger forever even if your paths stop crossing at any point in time. 

It feels like you're trapped somewhere where the clock doesn't tick at all, where you can take your time exploring him with your mouth and your hands. 

And then it doesn't. 

The fabric of the dress starts bothering you, his tight shirt is suddenly not tight enough and the hardness steadily growing and pressing into your core is screaming for attention you can't give him with all these clothes on the way. 

He feels it too, fingers tracing the hem of your dress for the second time today and then they're under it, pulling at the fabric up until it bunches on your waist. 

You're still wearing the swimsuit he helped you put on earlier but it does little to conceal how affected you are. Looking down, you're not even ashamed of it when he follows your eyes and lets his linger on the patch of wetness darkening the color of the bottoms. 

Still, he moves his hands upwards again and soon you're struggling to get the dress off, considering you're almost bumping the roof of the car when you straighten your spine to do so. 

“Wanna know what crossed my mind when I saw you in the bathroom?” 

When it's finally off, he immediately goes for it: His index tracing your collarbone and slowly descending, his short nail dragging against your skin before the rest of his fingers join, right in between your breasts, where there's fabric holding together the top of the swimsuit. 

He could easily tug on it if he wanted to. Instead, he ignores it and presses the heel of his hand against it, forcing you to lean back and almost bump into the steering wheel again. 

Unable to speak and panting, you only nod as a reply to his question. 

“How easy it would be to get on my knees and eat you out. I thought: What if I just…” Using his other hand to mess with the knots that keep the left bottom part of the swimsuit together, he demonstrates what he means without actually doing it, his eyes following the motions “Undo these, get on my knees and make her come all over my face?” 

“Fuck, Mingi…” 

“You would like that, wouldn't you?” He smirks without actually looking at you, the hand on your sternum traveling down against your skin before joining the other one, teasing the knots on the right. 

“Y-yes.” 

Maybe he can see it on your face, the sudden nervousness at the scene he painted before you, because he grabs one of your hands and brings them to his lips before drawing you close again “Please tell me your idiot ex-boyfriend ate you out when you were together.” 

Blush darkening, you make a face that gives the answer away. 

He groans “He's worse than I thought, fuck. Come here.” And without any warning, the back of his seat goes down until it touches the backseat with it.

Bracing yourself against his chest, because you went down with him as well, you huff out a surprised laugh “Go where?” 

“Up here. Let me teach you something tonight.” 

“Mingi…” 

“First, you need to make sure your hands are clean—” 

“Stop,” laughing, you interrupt his bad attempt at teasing you with the same words you used on him yesterday “There's no real support for me if we do this, where do I even—” 

“Knees here,” he motions the backseat and you could actually do it, but you would have to sit on his face instead of hovering like you imagine it would be more comfortable for him “hands here” he points to the grab handle and the headrest of the passenger seat and then straightens his spine a little, bringing his face closer to you so he can whisper right into your worn out lips “Turn the light off, I'll do the rest.” 

He looks like he's going to kiss you but then he falls back onto the seat with an excited smile curving his lips. 

What a tease. 

So of course you turn off the light and prop yourself up into the position he wants to. It's challenging, the car is not that small but it feels like it is and you very much would rather do this on a bed, spare his back and yours in the process, but excitement also runs through your body and your brain stops making up excuses for why should deny yourself of the pleasure of Mingi using his mouth to make you see stars the second his fingers undo the knots and peel the bottom half of your swimsuit off your body with ease. 

Lips trailing up your inner thighs and hands on each side of them, holding you in a secure position, Mingi doesn't tease you much before attaching his mouth to your heat and your subconsciousness flies out the window when his tongue flicks your clit. 

You look down at him and the sight of him enjoying himself has you beaming, the warmth spreads through you and the zeroes on your pussy. You don't even try to quiet down your moans, completely forgetting that you're in a public parking lot that can fill up at any second. 

But paying no mind to it either, Mingi also moans encouragingly into your wet folds when your hips move a little, chasing that high. 

He shifts his focus to your entrance, his tongue working itself into you and when you move your hips again at the feeling, his nose bumps into your clit in a way that has you grasping the headrest for support, right hand slipping down and resting on the window while your mouth hangs open and your eyes shut close. 

“Mingi… Baby, fuck, I'll—” he adds his thumb into his ministrations, pressing it against your clit the way he did yesterday and it only takes a few side to side movements for you to come undone on his mouth. 

And again, the intensity of your orgasm takes you by surprise. It's obviously not as intense as yesterday's but it still got you trembling so you want to curse him out for being that good at what he does. 

He eases you into it, slowing his mouth and you only register that it leaves you completely when your thighs are being kissed tenderly. 

Breathless, you look down at him and catch his smile before his teeth are sinking into your skin and forcing you to hiss out a laugh “Good?” 

“Yeah,” you smile, climbing down from your position and hovering over his lap in an attempt to not ruin his jeans. It's very obvious he enjoyed it too, his crotch holding the evidence tight and probably painfully against the fabric there “Really, really good.” 

You want to get on your knees and return the favor, make him squirm in pleasure, but the space is not working in your favor. So even though your thighs are hurting and sweat is dripping down your neck, you start working on the button and zipper of his jeans before he sits up.

He wants to say something, but your tongue is touching his and tasting yourself on it before he gets the chance. Clumsily, a little too far gone for your liking as well, you are able to get through the layers of clothes and let your hand hang over his dick “Are you gonna make me beg for it today?” 

“You don't have to, love.” 

“Beg?” you ask with a smile that he reciprocates “Or touch you?” your free hand brushes the hair out of his face, sliding down until you're propping his chin up with it, thumb tracing his bottom lip softly “Because I want to touch you. I want to make you feel so, so good, baby. Please.” 

He kisses the pad of your thumb and then takes it into his mouth, tongue caressing the tip of it until you're panting again and then nods. 

That's all the permission you need before taking him with your hand and pulling him out of his boxers. Taking your hand out briefly, you gather up saliva and spit right into it. 

Mingi lets out a noise at that. Interesting. 

Starting slow, you focus on his expression. Testing the waters, taking note of what he likes because, unlike him, you probably pushed to the corner of your mind every sexual conversation you two had before yesterday. You take a second to look down at it, the size is no surprise but your mouth waters at the image of you taking him into the heat of it. 

Maybe another time. For now, you focus on making him feel good with the little you can offer him in the enclosed space of his car. 

He mouths at your neck, choked up sobs vibrate through the skin on your collarbone and your top gets moved to the side so he can mark the side of your boobs as he pleases. It sets the fire inside of you alive again, your folds getting wetter when he rolls his tongue around your nipple and then throws his head back when you twist your hand in a motion he seems to really enjoy.

“Just like that, love.” 

To your delight, he's not quiet. He's loud, he's grabby, taking the opportunity to hold onto your ass and press down on the skin when you tease his slit and gather his precum on your fingers so you can spread it around his cock and your hand can slide easier. 

Movements get sloppy once he's close, he's no longer paying attention to you and you welcome it as a great sign, his hips bucking into your hand and he moves you forward until you're sitting on his lap again. 

The only thing preventing your pussy and his dick from touching is your hand. 

You glance at him and he looks back, probably the same idea popping up into his mind so you nod once.

The car moves as you two move around, to the back seat, the spine of his seat up and the entire thing moving forward to make space for him next to you, over you, on top of you once he kicks his jeans and boxers off to the floor. 

You reach out to him in a silent plea and he bends down to kiss you soft and moist and hot and breathy, sensually, with sweet sounds escaping both of you when you reach under his shirt and lift it up until he gets what you want. Discarding it with the rest of his clothes, your top follows it and the contentment you feel when his naked chest touches yours is unmeasurable. 

There's no real room to move around and there's not really any patience left within both of you, so when he apologizes when he moves his hips where he shouldn't and his tip brushes your entrance, you pull back from his bruising mouth. 

“Condom. Now.” 

He obliges right away, searching on his jeans for a minute or so and when he comes back he's smirking like he can't believe you “When I told you we needed to raincheck I didn't mean it to be like this. Bossy.” 

Even if you're punching him on his chest and giggling at his breathy words, you take the teasing with pride “You started it, Mingi!” 

Putting the condom on skilled and fast, he's soon resting his forehead against yours and kissing you softly again “I wanted you on my bed…” his lips trail down and the giggles die on your throat as he's kissing it, a moan escaping you “On your back or knees or riding me…” he continues in a whisper going down and down and down, giving your nipples attention before going back up and taking your mouth in his again “Making a mess on my cock…” 

He takes the opportunity to enter you slowly and you gasp at the stretch, wet enough so it doesn't hurt you but you're unfamiliar with him, with his size splitting you open deliciously. 

“F-fuck, Y/N.” Mingi leans back to watch you take him in and you whine again. Tilting your head back, you let him work himself in and you moan loudly when he almost bottoms out “Look at you…” 

You don't. You can't. He's pressing his thumb on your clit again to ease you through the stretch and it makes the heat pool in your belly like you didn't come in his mouth a few minutes ago. 

Slowly but surely it gets easier for him to rock his hips into you, mouth parting in pleasure when you remind yourself to look at him. His abdomen tenses when you run your nails against the skin there, softly, until you're detouring them into his back and sinking them in just enough to have him whining at the feeling. 

“Baby… Harder.” 

“Yeah?” 

Hips bucking up to meet his at a particularly hard trust, you reach up to him so he can rest his body weight on yours. Close like this, with the pace picking up, the knot on your lower half tightens and threatens to break. 

“You take me so well, love. Fuck, always knew you would,” you know he can feel your walls tightening around him at the praise, because he smiles and kisses you once before continuing “My pretty, pretty girl… Taking my cock so well…” he punctuates his words with the roll of his hips and you cry out, holding his face in between your hands, his eyes never leaving yours. 

In this position, his lower abdomen bumps into your clit and it's soon tipping you over the edge. 

“So good, so good, oh— Oh, God.” You're mumbling incoherently while Mingi keeps whispering sweet nothings and then the tension on your belly breaks. It takes three seconds of your walls pulsating around him for him to groan loudly into your mouth and come undone as well. 

The only thing you can hear is breathing, all you can feel is breathing. His against your chin, yours blowing on his hair when you rest your cheek on his temple. 

It takes a second to gather yourself again and when you do, you tilt your head back to give him a chaste kiss that he returns. 

“That was so good, baby.” You tell him and he smiles, nodding in agreement “I am sticking to the fucking seat though.” 

Mingi snorts and just like that the energy shifts back to the usual you. Only this time, you come back to it knowing that no one’s ever going to have you the way he does. 

He slips out of you, doing his thing with the condom and you sit up, looking through the windows and becoming aware of your surroundings for the first time since you got there. 

There's a car parked far away from you that's empty and the rest of the cars that were near it have left. You wonder how long this all took, because you lost track of time the second he told you he likes you. 

Chest still heaving and boxers now on, Mingi rests his back on the door and takes your hand in his “Is it dumb of me to assume you're my girlfriend now, love?” 

“Is it dumb that I assumed that's what I was when you said you like me?” 

“No,” he answers right away “not dumb at all.” 

Smiling, you nod “Then I'm your girlfriend, Mingi.” 

He beams at that and then he's crowding you again “Say it again.” 

“I'm your girlfriend.” you repeat, enunciating each word and giggling when he nuzzles his nose into the crimson on your cheek “I’m yours, baby.” 

Resting his forehead against yours, he hums in contempt “Good, because I've always been yours too.” 

“There's no way! You two... together? Guys… See, that would be me if I didn't see it coming but I'm smarter and cooler than everyone here so I did.” 

Wooyoung's over the top reaction has Mingi throwing his head back in a silent laugh and you staring at the black haired guy, unamused and a little offended. 

It's two days later and, as usual, you're at Wooyoung's and San’s apartment hanging out. 

After putting your clothes back on and going for some well deserved food, Mingi took you home, kissed you goodnight and showed up the next day after class to break the news to your parents. 

Your mom almost cried. Your dad too, but for a completely different reason. 

In the end, they both agreed they saw it coming and when you told Mingi’s parents, they said the same thing and invited yours to have celebratory dinner without you. 

What happened in Mingi’s room after was worth missing dinner anyways. 

Mingi and you decided to break the news when most of the group showed up for movie night and you were nervous to see their reactions. 

But everyone seems unaffected by it. 

“I knew you guys liked each other the second I met you. Ask Gyuri, she agrees with me.” 

“Sadly, I do.” Wooyoung's ex looks at you from her spot by the door, where she's getting her shoes on. 

She winks at you and you fake a gasp, falling into your boyfriend's lap with an annoyed huff. 

“And no one told us?!” 

“Sorry, Y/N. We didn't want to get in the way.” Hwa is apologetic and Yeosang nods alongside Hongjoong but you gape at them like they betrayed your trust. 

“To be fair we didn't know till’ last week, love.” 

“She didn't know.” Gyuri corrects him and now you turn to her to give her the betrayed look “You were pining over it for six months already.” 

“I say it was more like nine but…” Hwa shrugs and sips his cup, giving the man holding you close a knowing smile. 

Oh, they definitely talked about it, huh? 

“Nine months and no one cared to fill me in, huh?” 

“I’m sure Mingi did—” 

“Wooyoung!” 

“Well I didn't notice.” Yunho interferes with a shrug and gives you a recomforting smile that doesn't work at all. 

San laughs “That's because you're a puppy that can't even tell when someone likes you.” 

“Am not!” 

Everyone, including you and Mingi, make a noise in agreement with San.  

“You're one to talk, though, leave the puppy alone.” Gyuri tells her ex's best friend and Wooyoung laughs at him when his smile drops. 

There's some story there you don't know. 

“Guys… Does someone like me right now? Be honest.” 

Yeosang is about to tell him something but Jongho interrupts. 

“Enough with the love talk! Can we start the movie?” But he's pressing play already, so the answer doesn't really matter. 

Gyuri laughs once and Wooyoung makes his way over to her to give her a hug that she enjoys for one second tops before pushing him away. 

“Enjoy everyone! I'm so happy for you two, by the way, not that these neanderthals would tell you to your face but I'm sure they're too.” 

“Thank you, Gyuri.” Mingi murmurs from behind you and you mouth a thank you as well before she leaves for the night. 

Something about her best friend having a boy crisis. 

You don't miss the way San’s eyes follow her until she leaves or the way he looks at Woo, something clearly worrying him. 

His best friend ignores him, though, so you confirm that might just be a little pissed off at him after all. 

“Tell her to text you what happens.” San asks Woo once she leaves and he rolls his eyes. 

“Mhm. I’ll tell her to stop calling us neanderthals too.” 

You smile “Well, she's right.” 

“Nuh-uh!” 

Jongho has to stop the movie and you see him sulk while everyone else is arguing. Some of them, like Hwa and Yeo, are siding with you and Gyuri. And the rest of them, like your boyfriend, are telling them off. 

When you turn to face him, his argument dies mid-sentence because he stops to smile at you. He takes your face in his hand and kisses you for the first time ever in front of everyone else. The group stops the argument to tease you both and you laugh into his mouth. 

A cushion is thrown at you and Jongho gets up to separate your faces before sitting beside you with a pout on his lips. 

“Can we watch the goddamn movie?!” 

You're the happiest you've ever been.

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

© jensthwa, 2024.

[wheeboo]

you've got boba eyes, dude | lee chan

SYNOPSIS. You’ve carried nothing but bad luck bouncing between jobs. However, after managing to land a spot as a lifeguard at Carat Bay for the summer, your curiosities start to drift towards the waterpark’s prideful boba shop owner, Lee Chan, who somehow always ends up in your lane—both literally and figuratively. You came for a summer job, not to dive headfirst into a bantering game of cat and mouse. PAIRING. boba shop owner!lee chan x mat racer attendant!fem!reader (ft. soonyoung, seungkwan, vernon, a mention of joshua, & nayeon from twice) GENRE. fluff, crack/humour, slightly suggestive, enemies (more like annoyances?) to lovers WARNINGS. cursing, so much banter, bickering, and flirting between them, chan flirts like a competitive sport and yn is tired of his shit but loves it anyway, mention of weed and alcohol drinking, shirtless chan moment, kissing WORD COUNT. 11.5k

notes: this is definitely not my proudest fic, sadly not proofread and rushed and the plot was not plotting, but i hope u all enjoy nonetheless! also sorry for having not posted any fic in a while, but i promise new exciting things are coming!! this is for the @camandemstudios carat bay collab !! pls check out the other fics by the other wonderfully talented authors in the collab as well <3 i'm so happy i was able to write for dino again hehe 🥺

You certainly did not expect for your resume to land you a job at the Carat Bay Waterpark. But you would probably take anything at this point𑁋the awful luck you’ve been having with going through over a dozen dead-end gigs is enough to make even a lifeguard position of watching people belly flop off slides seem like divine intervention.

At least the uniform you have on is cute. Kind of. 

You find yourself staring down the six-lane, neon-striped monstrosity of a slide, watching as kids, teenagers, and adults race down atop of foam mats at death-defying speeds. Your job? Blow your little whistle, make sure the guests adhere to the requirements, give a thumbs-up, and pray to the heavens above that no one faceplants on the way down. 

The only thing worse than getting sunburnt in the literal summer heat is doing it while babysitting overly enthusiastic kids and pretending you know what you’re doing when you definitely do not. But alas, faking customer service seems to be one of your quirkiest perks when you’ve had experience juggling between three jobs back in your early college days just to pay rent. 

You sigh as you rest against the post of the mat racer startling line, feeling your shirt stick to your back from sweat like industrial glue. It’s only the first day, and you have no idea how you’ll be able to get through the rest of summer without evaporating. 

Then, a rag is suddenly thrown in your face, snapping you back out of your thoughts. 

“Break time, girl,” Nayeon coos with a smirk as the rag falls uselessly in your lap. “Go hydrate before you traumatise some eight-year-old.”

You immediately stand up at that. “God, you’re a saint.”

Normally, it’s hard for people to make friends on the first day of the job. However, Nayeon was quick to breeze her way into your shift as if she owned the damn place. She’s already dubbed herself as your “waterpark big sister” and seems very determined to make sure you don’t die from dehydration or despair before the week is done𑁋apparently it’s common with new employees, and you’re just one of the stubborn ones who hasn’t dipped on the first day.

“Thirty minutes is kinda a lot,” You say, dabbing at the sweat on your forehead with the rag under your hat. “Got any good places to go to?”

Nayeon lets out a contemplative hum, before her face breaks into a grin as if she’s been waiting her whole life for someone to ask her this. “Do I ever!” Then she crosses her arms mischievously. “You like boba?’

“Who doesn’t like boba?”

“Well, you’re in for a treat, babe,” Nayeon replies cheekily. “Go past the Lazy River. There’s a little boba shop near the churro cart. Called Chan’s Bubble Bar.”

You snort a little. “That’s seriously what it’s called?”

“Yep, unfortunately.” Nayeon clicks her tongue. “Owner is the most insufferable boba genius and flirts like a competitive sport. So, take that as you will.”

With that cryptic warning, she excitedly shoos you off like a mom sending her kid off to kindergarten on the first day of school. You navigate past crowds of sunburnt tourists and overly sunscreened children wielding ice cream cones light lightsabers, heading past the Lazy River.

You spot the shop in question. It isn’t that hard to miss.

The sign overhead is clearly hand-painted, the letters uneven but bold. There’s a small chalkboard menu sitting right at the entrance, and your eyebrows knit together as some of the absurdly ridiculous names for drinks listed on there. Seriously, what the hell is a Don’t be Chai, Better Than My Ex, and a Trust Me, Bro drink? 

Rolling your eyes, you push the door open and head inside, immediately met by the smell of sweet tapioca syrup and fresh fruits. The cool air from the air conditioning is an absolute godsend compared to the boiling sun outside. It’s a tiny space, somewhat cozy in some odd way you can’t exactly explain. 

On one wall, there’s a column of colourful surfboards, and there’s a section where you spot a bunch of polaroids and neon post-it notes containing handwritten reviews from customers.

There isn’t anyone at the counter, but you hear the faint sounds of music playing from somewhere in the back𑁋the door to the back is just a bunch of hanging beads of what seem to be seashells. 

You’re about to call out when a head pops up from under the counter𑁋followed by a startled yelp.

“Jesus!” You both blurt out in surprise at the same time.

You stumble back a step, and the guy straightens up. He looks around your age, his dark hair is tousled, wearing a sleeveless black top that conveniently shows off his large ass arms, a chain necklace dangling around his neck, with an apron exclaiming YES, I’M THE OWNER LEE CHAN. God, he’s built like the exact epitome of a summer fling in an awful summer YA novel. And he looks way too pleased with himself for someone who nearly gave you a heart attack.

When his eyes lock on yours, it lingers. Just a little.

“Do you live under there or something?” You ask breathlessly, clutching at your chest. 

Chan grins, shaking his head. “The universe likes to break the register sometimes. Little discrimination for small business owners, I guess.” He wipes off a matcha stain on his apron. “Anyway, you don’t look like one of my regular customers. Too tense, awful posture, and lifeguard-y. First day?”

You blink at that. “That obvious, huh?”

“You radiate the whole I-just-signed-my-life-off-for-minimum-wage deal,” Chan says matter-of-factly, dramatically motioning over your figure.

You roll your eyes. “Jeez, do you always psychoanalyse your customers? Read out their horoscope descriptions or something?”

“Only the cute ones.”

You nearly choke on air at his words. Chan doesn’t even flinch, just flashes you a smug, lopsided smile like he knows exactly what he’s doing. It’s cute𑁋you curse at yourself for mentally thinking that. You hate that he’s cute. And hate that you know he’s probably going to be an absolute pain in the ass for your summer. 

Chan leans on the counter, clasping his hands together expectantly. “Alright, rookie, what will it be?” 

You pretend to think, trailing your eyes over to another menu displayed on a little stand right next to him. All the drinks listed on there seem like they were created by an entire frat house, and you aren’t sure if it’s helping with your appetite or not. Either way, Nayeon did say he’s an insufferable boba genius. 

The insufferable part is right on point.

“Surprise me,” You tell him with your arms crossed, already feeling like you’ll regret saying that. 

Chan’s obnoxious grin only widens at that. 

“Dangerous game,” he quips, tapping his fingers on the counter rhythmically. “Give me a few minutes to work my magic.” Then he turns to the back to yell out, “Soonyoung! Get me the watermelon popping pearls!”

There’s a sudden loud crash from the back, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone tripping. Then a few seconds later, a new guy emerges out from the curtain of seashells. His hair is half-dyed red and black, and there’s a slap of flour on his cheek that he rubs away. You watch him𑁋Soonyoung𑁋shoot a glare towards Chan, clearly showing this isn’t the first time he’s been summoned. 

“Do I look like your kitchen elf, dude?” Soonyoung remarks annoyingly, grumbling under his breath. 

“Hey, I pay you with unlimited access to the lychee slushies. Emotional damage is part of that too,” Chan retorts back while already preparing your mystery drink like he’s on some sort of culinary show.

Soonyoung just scoffs, teasing over the jar of tapioca pearls to Chan with the perfect underhand. He shoots a brief glance to you, then to Chan, before disappearing to the back, the beads clinging behind him. 

Your eyes shift back to Chan, watching as he breezes through the process with an annoying kind of confidence. As if he’s done this a thousand times before. As if he knows this is going to impress you, which dammit, it kind of is. He shakes the cup, mixing all the mystery ingredients with a dramatic flair, his brows furrowed in concentration that should not be as attractive as it is. 

When he finishes, he slides the cup over to you on the counter. It’s a swirl of pale green with watermelon tapioca pearls. You eye the drink curiously, taking it in your hands, the cold surface of the plastic cup and melting into your hand. 

“Honeydew base, watermelon pearls, splash of coconut milk, and a dash of lime zest,” Chan announces like he’s showing off a Michelin-star dish. “Coined the Existential Crisis.”

He watches as you take a tentative sip of the drink.

You swear your soul nearly leaves your body. Because of course it’s good. Really damn good.

You take another sip, more confident this time, trying to not let your face betray the fact that Chan just changed your entire trajectory of your entire breaktime snack expectations. But Chan seems to see right through it, already wearing that smirk to his face.

“Holy shit.”

Chan’s face practically beams. “You’re welcome.”

“I didn’t say it was good.”

“I believe holy shit translates to amazing.”

You feel your face flush at that. As you take another generous sip, you reach for your wallet to pull out some cash, but Chan stops you with a hand.

“It’s on the house,” he says.

You blink at him. “What? Why?”

Chan shrugs, resting his elbows atop the counter. “Consider it a welcome gift to the Carat Bay ecosystem, rookie.”

You narrow your eyes suspiciously at him.. “Let me guess. Next time it’s twelve bucks and emotional manipulation?”

“Right on target!” Chan exclaims enthusiastically. 

You shake your head, trying to hide the smile tugging at your lips as you start backpedaling towards the door. “You’re going to be a pain in my ass, aren’t you?”

“Get used to it.” Chan shoots you a wink while wiping down the counter. “See you later, rookie!”

When the door shuts behind you, you find yourself taking sips on the drink while heading your way back to your post. The thought of Chan keeps flitting back in your mind with every step that you nearly bump into a child wearing a life-sized otter floatie. 

Suddenly, summer is going to get a lot more interesting. 

Back in the shop, Soonyoung reappears from the back like an aunt getting ready for gossip. He leans on the counter with his arms crossed, observing Chan whistle to himself as if he didn’t just flirt his entire soul with the new employee. 

“Wow, Casanova,” Soonyoung starts amusedly. “Should I start planning wedding invites?”

Chan shoots him a side-eye. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I haven’t seen you this smitten ever since that influencer chick two summers ago,” Soonyoung continues. “where you wrote her a haiku on a napkin. A fucking haiku!”

Chan groans, running a hand down his face. “First of all, that haiku came from the bottom of my heart. And second𑁋” He points towards the door where you just left a minute ago. “𑁋I was not smitten. That was polite customer service, thank you very much.”

Soonyoung snorts. “Oh, my God! You’re down bad for the rookie and you don’t even know her name! This summer is going to be lit.”

“Get back to work, hyung.”

“I am at work.”

Chan chugs a rag at the older boy before flipping him off. “I hate you.”

“The feeling’s mutual, Romeo.” Soonyoung grins as he catches the rag with ease. “Just remember that I will be playing sad Taylor Swift songs during closing if you get heartbroken again.”

“We already play sad Taylor Swift songs during closing.”

“Exactly! I’ll just turn up the volume even more,” Soonyoung declares eagerly. He waits for a moment for Chan to retort back, but as he catches the slightly pensive look on his face, he adds reassuringly, “She’ll come back, dude.”

Chan sighs, glancing between the door and from your cup stood on the counter. 

“...yeah, I hope so.”

There’s a child crying in front of you. A little girl.

You and Nayeon are staring at her like she’s the spawn of Satan. 

Not because she’s done anything wrong𑁋she hasn’t, exactly. In fact, she’s probably the most tragically adorable thing you’ve seen the entire day, with her two pigtails and frilly Frozen swimsuit, her apple cheeks and eyes red from crying. She’s probably around six years old. 

But you’re both attendants and clearly not trained in early-childhood emotional breakdowns. And this one is clearly at maximum level.

Nayeon leans over to you and whispers, “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!” You hiss back to her. “I was just drinking my water and then bam𑁋she appeared like a ghost.” 

“What is she, a Pokémon?” Nayeon rolls her eyes, before crouching down to be eye-level with the little girl. “Hi, honey, what’s your name?”

The little girl sniffles, wiping away the snot at her nose. “Jiyu.”

“Okay, Jiyu, can you tell me where your parents are?” Nayeon asks softly, but Jiyu’s lip wobbles in response, as if she’s trying to hold in another round of tears. 

You glance frantically from where you’re high up on the Mat Racer post, but it’s obviously the most useless thing to do when the entire waterpark is just one big chaotic mess. You can barely spot the nearby bathrooms, so spotting a lost child’s parents is quite literally like finding a needle in a haystack. And if her parents were really trying to find her, then they clearly aren’t making themselves known. 

“Mommy said… that she went to get boba,” Jiyu croaks out in a series of hiccups. “But she didn’t, um… she didn’t come back.”

“The boba shop?” Nayeon questions, trying to keep her tone light and soothing.

“The one with the big loud man,” Jiyu sniffles again, motioning in a direction that could probably mean at least fifteen different shops, but there’s really only one singular boba shop in the entire waterpark and one with a ‘big loud man’. 

You swear your head almost falls off your neck.

“Chan,” You utter his name out like the universe bestowed a curse on you.

Nayeon rises up from the floor, turning toward you. “Here, I’ll radio security to see if any report has come in. You can take her to the boba shop and see if anyone recognises her, yeah?”

You groan dramatically, wanting to protest. “God, you want me to face the tier A level himbo?”

But Nayeon is already fiddling with her radio pack, her back turned towards you. And before you can say any last minute attempt to escape, Jiyu is already latched onto your leg like a barnacle, her tiny hand pulling at your finger which seems to ultimately mean that you’re officially her unofficial legal guardian for the next hour, or however long it will take for her mother to come back. 

The walk is awkward, because how the hell do you talk to a six-year-old who just sobbed her eyes out at the top of Mat Racer? At one point, she quietly asks what your name is like any curious child and you respond in kind. Then you try to lighten the mood by pointing out a duck floatie that was casually floating down the stream of the Lazy River, but all Jiyu does is give a small nod and an indecipherable mumble.

Well, you tried.

You have to mentally prepare yourself with a deep breath before walking into the boba shop. You push through the door with one hand, the other clutched around Jiyu’s. You saunter past a few customers heading back outside with their illegally delicious-looking cups of boba and come to a stop right at the counter.

Unsurprisingly, Chan is whipping up another drink like he’s got a PhD in Mixology, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to reveal his annoyingly attractive forearms. His hair appears almost damp from sweat𑁋clearly from heat, you remind yourself, not because he looks good like that. Definitely not.

When Chan turns around, his eyes lock with yours, and his face lights up in a way that’s completely unfair. Then his gaze drifts downward, catching sight of Jiyu tied to your leg like a clingy koala. 

“Wow, rookie,” he starts. “Two weeks in and I find out you have a child?”

You give him a flat look. “Yes, and I was pregnant for exactly zero days.”

“Well, you’re glowing,” Chan remarks playfully. “Must be that post-pregnancy aura.”

You roll your eyes, immediately regretting every life decision you made to come here𑁋it’s clear that Chan has less of an emotional maturity than Jiyu (or so you believe). You step closer to the counter and motion helplessly to Jiyu down at your side, who is still clutching at your hand as if she’s trying to merge her existence with yours. 

“She said her mom went to get boba and never showed back up, so congratulations,” You remark sarcastically. “you’re part of the mystery too.”

Chan’s eyes furrow at that, and he leans on the counter, expression softening towards Jiyu. 

“Hey, kiddo, what’s your name?” he asks, and the way his voice is all of a sudden soft is enough to make your head spin in a rather… an uncomfortably comfortable way. 

Jiyu shyly peeks out from behind your leg and whispers, “Jiyu.”

“What a pretty name. My name is Chan,” Chan coos, and the smile he wears isn’t that familiar shit-eating one, but gentler, slightly lopsided. “Jiyu, do you remember what your mom was wearing?”

“Um…” Jiyu begins warily, glancing up at the ceiling as if it held all the answers. “Flower… A flower hat!”

You let out a useless groan. “That’s, like, seventy-percent of the moms in this entire waterpark.”

“Yikes. Fortunately I did have a lady come in here wearing that exact description,” Chan says with confidence. “But she came in as fast as she left𑁋said she had to take a phone call and then ran out after I finished making her drink.”

Your feet threaten to sink into the floor. “Great.”

Chan only chuckles, turning his attention back toward Jiyu. “Well, Jiyu, since rookie here𑁋” He gestures toward you. “𑁋is clearly incompetent, what do you say you help me make a drink, yeah? Your mom will be coming back soon, I promise.”

You watch𑁋half-amused and half-terrified𑁋as Jiyu slowly lets go of your hand to toddle her way into the employee’s side of the counter, seemingly accepting the boy’s trust way more than what you’ve given her in the past fifteen minutes. Chan helps Jiyu climb up a small step stool that for some reason he already had, as well as helping her put on some kid-sized apron that’s about three times her size, like this isn’t the first time a kid had seized control of his shop. 

“Jesus, are you Mary Poppins or something?” You taunt snarkily, crossing your arms together.

“Unlike you, I seem to actually care about a child’s well-being more than anything else,” Chan retorts, before turning back to Jiyu. “Alright, Jiyu, what’s your favourite color?”

Jiyu motions towards a particular syrup in front of her. “Pink!”

“Isn’t this equivalent to child labour?” You ask mindlessly.

“Only if you report it,” Chan replies, and you can already see his smirk without him having to turn around. He hands Jiyu a spoon, and she grasps it with her tiny hands in pure wonder. “But I’d say it’s morally justifiable if she walks out with a smile.”

You shake your head at that, but can’t draw your eyes away from how Jiyu and Chan are interacting𑁋the two of them going back in forth about the drink, Chan letting her pick whatever toppings she wants, and Jiyu giggling every time Chan exaggerates about how much talent she has for a little girl. At one point, Jiyu asks for your input on the drink, and you suddenly find yourself being a boba shop worker for three minutes. 

It’s infuriating and adorable all at once. Infuriatingly adorable. 

About twenty minutes later, Nayeon texts you that they found the mother in question, and that she was on her way to pick up Jiyu. And right now, Jiyu is sitting beside you on a bench outside the boba shop, sipping on her drink that she and Chan firmly called The Pink Princess Special, which was now a new addition to the menu.

You’re about five minutes into zoning out when a drink is suddenly shoved in front of your face. 

“For the babysitter,” Chan says smoothly.

You blink up at him, before taking the cold cup in your hands. Then he sits down right next to you for God knows why, his kneecap briefly brushing against yours. 

“So, rookie,” he begins, and you already know you aren’t going to like this. “Do I finally get to know your name?”

You take a sip of the drink, and the refreshing flavour of mango strikes at your tongue, immediately cooling off your body. “No.”

“Aw, c’mon,” Chan whines. “Don’t I deserve to know the girl I co-parented a child with for the past hour?”

You shoot him a glare. “If you ever said that in a courtroom, you’re getting your ass beat.”

“That’s not very co-parental of you.”

“Oh, my God, stop calling us co-parents𑁋”

“Are you two married?” Jiyu’s small, curious voice suddenly cuts in.

You’ve never whipped your head around so fast in your life. You nearly choke on your mango drink.

Chan lets out an amused laugh. “What do you think, Jiyu? Do we look like we’re married?”

You swear your one word away from kicking Chan’s shin into the Lazy River, because you absolutely do not look like a couple. Not even close, not even in a way that would be cute in a cheesy coming-of-age movie. But of course, the oblivious, honest, and unfiltered six-year-old beats you to the punch.

Yes, it’s sort of true you’ve been avoiding telling him your name like it’s the plague. It really isn’t for a particular reason𑁋okay, maybe there is kind of a reason, but that’s none of his business. Besides, giving your name to him feels like an ego boost that he doesn’t deserve to have. It’ll definitely be a weapon for him to wield against you.

A really annoying, charming, effective weapon.

“You two argue like my mommy and daddy,” Jiyu chirps, sipping on her drink while her little legs swing back and forth on the bench. “And then they kiss right after.”

You’re about to fling your drink into the burning sun. Getting sweeped up by a tsunami doesn’t seem to be the worst thing to happen right now, or perhaps time travelling back to the moment you chose to enter the boba shop and instead hurl yourself into the wave pool.

Chan is practically vibrating right next to you, wheezing his lungs out in a fit of laughter. Gosh, does his laugh have to be the most insufferable sound you’ve ever heard? Why does it have to be so infectious, loud, and make your stomach do a flip one too many times?

“Jiyu, that’s…” Your voice trails off, because you honestly don’t know what to say to that.

Chan wipes away a fake tear rolling down his eye. “Man, I love this kid.”

“Of course you do,” You shoot back with narrowed eyes. “Probably bribed her or something.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Chan quips. “With the low price of tapioca pearls and a spot on being Employee of the Month.”

You scoff. “Don’t you literally have only, like, two people working there?” 

“Exactly. It makes the competition fiercer.” Chan offers you a wink in return.

Right next to you, Jiyu glances curiously between the two of you, innocently sipping on her drink as she wears a deceptively sweet smile. And just as you and Chan are continuing to bicker, there is an almost-near bombshell that drops right at your feet.

“Mr. Big Loud Guy, I know her name!” she exclaims excitedly. “She told me her name when we were walking!”

Chan raises a brow and leans in, and he’s close enough for you to smell the faint scent of brown sugar and fruit syrup. His knee brushes against yours again. It should be illegal for him to be blessed with looking like that all while being able to easily entertain a child right under his fingertips. 

“Oh, the betrayal,” he gasps, clutching at his chest theatrically. “Hey, Jiyu, if you tell me her name I’ll make sure you can make another drink on my menu.”

You barge in immediately, clenching your teeth together as you nudge him with your shoulder. “Jiyu! Want to see me spill my drink in his pants? Then I can𑁋”

“Her name is Y/N!”

That’s it. You’re going to die right here, right now. But your death isn’t caused by a heatstroke or dehydration𑁋no, it’s from complete and utter embarrassment, caused by a six-year-old Cupid in disguise and a boy with large forearms and an unnecessarily attractive laugh.

Chan shifts his eyes back to you, and you catch the mischievous glint that shines in his pupil that’s definitely not from the sun. As he’s about to open his mouth, you quickly shut him up with an aggressive shhh, which promptly translates to shut the fuck up.

“One word out of your mouth and I’m filing a restraining order.”

But Chan obviously doesn’t play by the rules. 

“Y/N,” he drawls, and you don’t know if you want to slap him or kiss him just to shut him up. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N…”

“Isn’t it a pretty name?” Jiyu beams from the side, not fully realising the hole she just shoved you in.

You groan audibly, burying your face in the palm of your sweaty hand, because of course the child you emotionally stabilised and trudged through an entire waterpark with has betrayed you in the most lethal way possible. Throwing yourself into the Lazy River doesn’t seem enough𑁋you’d rather willingly fall into the koi pond so all the fish can nibble away at your pride and sanity. 

“It is pretty,” Chan responds smugly, though you swear there’s that pinch of softness too, as if he actually means it. You feel your face burn hotter, unsure if it’s completely from embarrassment or something else. “Y/N. Kinda rolls off the tongue, doesn’t it?”

“I liked you better when you didn’t know it.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“You’re right. I didn’t like you at all.”

“Okay, but you do look like a Y/N.”

“What does that even mean?” You counter back with a scowl. “Are you saying I look like a noun?”

Chan tilts his head, pretending to think. “A… pretty noun.”

You turn your head sharply to hide the way your lips threaten to twitch upward at that. You’re not smiling𑁋you’re actually frowning so hard your face might as well crumble apart in pieces. And that warm, fluttery feeling that blooms in your chest? Oh, it’s just good old classic indigestion from how impossibly delicious this mango boba is. 

A frantic voice suddenly cuts through your thoughts. Thank the heavens. 

“Jiyu!” There’s a panicked woman running up in your direction, her flower hat nearly falling off her hand from how rushed she is. 

Jiyu immediately springs up from the bench and hops onto the ground, dashing into her mother’s arms. “Mommy!” 

The woman catches Jiyu in her arms with a relieved gasp, sinking down to her knees. “Oh, sweetheart, I was so worried𑁋are you okay?”

“Yes! I made two new friends!” Jiyu motions over to you and Chan. “And we made a drink together!” 

At that moment, you and Chan exchange a look with each other. It’s clear that the two of you obviously didn’t mean to, but it still happens. It lingers for a moment too long to be brushed off as pure coincidence. 

The mother lets out a barrel of apologies before smiling to the both of you. “Thank you both so much. I was so worried!”

“She was in good hands,” Chan says gratefully, standing up casually and pretending that he wasn’t just blackmailing a child for your name two minutes ago. “Made a killer drink for the menu, probably the next bestseller.” 

Jiyu’s mom chuckles, standing up and reaching down to hold the little girl’s hand, mimicking a waving action. “Say thank you, sweetheart.” 

“Thank you, Y/N! Thank you Mr. Big Loud Guy!” She gives the two of you a precious, delightful wave before walking in the opposite direction, still clutching the drink in her hands as if it’s a memory she knows she’ll cherish. 

Gosh, no matter how nightmarish kids are these days, your heart still feels full knowing you made at least one’s day better. 

But then you remember that Chan is still next to you. Yet, your heart doesn’t seem to want to deflate from the thought of that. 

“I say we make a great team,” he inputs with a cheesy grin.

You roll your eyes. “No, you were better with her than me.”

“Is… is that a compliment I smell?” Chan eyes you up and down with suspicion. 

“I’m sure a straw through your head would compliment you dearly.”

“Romantic.”

You flip him off over your shoulder as you’re walking away to return back to your post. You cannot wait to explain all the shit that’s happened in the past thirty minutes and explain to your supervisor why the hell you were gone for so long. 

“See you later, Y/N!” You hear Chan call you from behind.

You’re not smiling.

You’re definitely not smiling.

God, you’re so screwed.

So, you can probably say the past month of working at the waterpark has been… chaos. Just pure, unrelenting chaos.

On one side of the deep end, you have to deal with screaming toddlers afraid to go down the giant Mat Racer slide; and on the other side of the deep end, you have to suffer through hearing a particular boy’s annoyingly perfect laugh. 

You’ve really tried to not think about Chan and all your interactions thus far. Either way, he probably does this with nearly every other worker he comes across𑁋flirts a lot, teases a lot, gets under their skin a lot. Maybe you’re not that special. Maybe you’re just another Wednesday at Carat Bay for him. 

But why does the thought make your heart ache? 

Chan may have the ego and confidence the size of a fucking mountain, but the worst part is that he knows what he’s doing. He knows the effect he has on people, on you. And somehow, he’s become a permanent fixture in your shifts𑁋whether it’s by bickering with you until the end of time, or by secretly sending you over free drinks to your stand (where you have to joy to watch Nayeon get jealous). 

“Is he always like this?” You ask Soonyoung as you’re sipping on a drink on Chan’s menu called the Don’t Be Chai. “Like, is he always a pain in the ass?” 

Soonyoung raises a brow at you from the other side of the counter. Chan was currently out in the back during inventory or whatever with his sleeves rolled up like the menace to society he is. You finally clocked out of your shift and decided to hopelessly confide in the boy’s henchman, which may or may not be the best idea at all. 

“I’ve dealt with his ass for the past ten years,” Soonyoung says while wiping down the counter. “Trust me, it gets better.”

Your posture straightens. “Does it?”

“No, it gets worse.” 

You slump back in the seat. 

Soonyoung lets out a small laugh as he slowly drags the rag from one end of the counter to the other. 

“But you know, you get used to it,” he adds. “Teasing is like his love language or whatever.” 

You blink up at him. “His what?” 

“His love language.” Soonyoung repeats, giving a casual shrug. “That little shit would rather piss his pants than say ‘I like you’, so instead he’ll annoy you into oblivion. Behind those dumbass eyes? He cries to strangers’ wedding proposals on TikTok.” 

You almost choke on your drink at that. “No way in hell.”

“Oh yeah! I wish I was kidding.” Soonyoung’s practically beaming at this point. “Man tries to keep his little hopeless romantic heart lowkey though. But the second you say anything genuine to him? His brain absolutely short-fucking-circuits.”

You blink. Once. Twice. Trying to process everything. 

“He’s probably like this with everyone, you know,” You mutter quietly, trying to hide behind the rim of your drink as if it’ll save you. 

This earns you a loud scoff from Soonyoung. “Trust me, dude, I know him like the lines on the back of my hand.” And then he stares at you, trying to decipher the contemplative look to your face. “Do you like him?”

You blink again, then look away. It’s safer, probably𑁋less revealing.

“I think I’d rather swallow pool water,” You counter back, but it’s useless. 

“So… that’s a yes.”

“That is not a yes.”

“It sounds like a yes in my vocabulary.”

You groan defeatedly, because of course this boba shop is run by idiots. 

“If you say a word of this to Chan, I will throw my drink in your face the next time I see you,” You threaten, holding a tight grip around the cup like a weapon. 

Soonyoung holds his hands up in mock surrender. “I swear on his fourth grade spelling bee participation award.”

You scrunch your face up at that. “He has one?”

“Yeah. It was pure trauma. He refuses to spell the word onomatopoeia to this day.”

The image of a young Chan shaking in front of a large crowd while probably trying not to break down swearing vengeance on the spelling deities makes you laugh𑁋an unguarded, stupidly fond laugh. 

Unfortunately, it’s the exact moment when Chan walks back inside too.

He emerges from the curtain of beads, wiping his hands on a towel and raising an eyebrow between the two of you. His hair is a fluffed up mess, his sleeves rolled out as usual, and there’s a faint smudge of something sugary on his cheek. His dumb, pretty cheek.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, throwing the towel over his shoulder. 

You can feel his annoyance radiating onto you, but all you do is lean in slightly on the counter, still giggling. “Hey, Chan, can you spell ‘onomatopoeia’?”

Chan gasps as if you’ve offended every cell in his body, and he turns to Soonyoung with a glare. “You told rookie about the bee, didn’t you?”

“It’s a core memory, how could I not?” Soonyoung retorts back. “You stuttered so hard up there the judges thought you spelled it with three m’s and eliminated you.”

“Oh, my God,” Chan groans, dragging his hand up and down his sweaty face. “I’m going to fucking sue you both for emotional damages.”

This only makes you laugh even harder, barely noticing the way Chan is practically staring at you while you do so. He’s wearing that dumb grin on his face, and you swear that if you look close enough, there’s a flush creeping up his neck as well. But you’re too busy relishing the fact that for once, you aren’t on the small end of the stick this time.

As your laughter resides, you finally meet Chan’s eyes again. He’s just standing there, and you find yourself considering your next move.

This is probably a very stupid idea. 

“You got a little thing up there,” You say, motioning to the spot on your cheek.

Chan blinks a few times, before swiping up at his face on the wrong side.

“Nope,” You say amusedly, the tone of your voice a little more sweeter. “Other side.”

He tries again, but misses the spot by about three millimetres. 

You roll your eyes, straightening your posture and taking a few giant steps around the counter before you’re quite literally standing in front of him. And before he can try a third time, you lean in and swiftly swipe your finger over his cheek to wipe it off yourself. 

Everything stills the second your skin touches his. His breath audibly hitches as if something got lodged in his throat. His entire body tenses up and freezes. His eyes lock with yours like a deer caught in headlights. 

“There,” You mutter, thumb lingering for a second too long before pulling away. “Much better, you helpless idiot.”

Chan simply stands there like someone cut through his neural pathways enough to paralyse him on the spot. His mouth is practically hanging open, and his ears are reddening. Reddening. You’ve never seen him like this𑁋and you’ve never felt so damn proud for putting him in his place for once. 

He watches as you grab your bag and your drink before starting in the direction of the door as if you didn’t just completely knock the wind out of his lungs. 

“Good luck on closing tonight, boys.” You give both Chan and Soonyoung a wave while pushing the door open, eyes lingering a little longer on Chan before stepping outside into the evening night. 

Soonyoung waits exactly five seconds after the door closes to burst into a fit of laughter. 

“You have fucking boba eyes, dude,” he cackles, slapping a hand down on the counter. “Your brain just went 404, holy shit!”

Chan’s system is still buffering. He picks up his head slowly, still staring at the door half-expected for you to come back, but you don’t. “Did that just happen?”

“Oh, it happened, loverboy. It so happened.”

As you’re heading back to your car, innocently sipping on your drink, you can’t help but smile to yourself.

Because you learned two things today:

Teasing may be Chan’s love language, but flirting back to him?

That might be his kryptonite. 

The next time you come into the boba shop, it’s on your off day.

You didn’t really mean to come here, honestly. But one of your college friends seemed way too adamant to get a sugar overload than you. 

You were lucky to not be one of the chosen few attendants to be scheduled in the middle of a heatwave on a Saturday, which apparently meant that more than half the town collectively decided to seek refuge from the sun in the same ten-square-metre bubble tea shop. 

Seungkwan drags you by the arm like he’s absolutely possessed. When he pushes through the door, the shop is quite… chaotic. The buzz of blenders fill the room, the scent of sugar and syrup more dizzying than ever. You find yourself having the urge to turn around, but Seungkwan just tightens his grip around your wrist.

“Come on, Y/N!” he whines, and you nearly trip as he pulls you back inside.

Seungkwan pulls you into the line of impatient customers. Okay, maybe you do feel a little bit bad that this place is run by only two idiots and it’s the peak of rush hour, but there’s no going back, and Seungkwan is actively scanning over the strange, questionable names listed on the menu.

“Trust me, Bro? Delulu Is The Solulu? Better Than My Ex?” Seungkwan reads off the names with a snort. “Rizz Me Up? What kind of deranged romantic named these drinks?” 

You let out a sigh. “Chan.”

“Your Chan?”

“I𑁋He’s not my Chan,” You correct far too quickly. 

Seungkwan gives you the most suspicious, skeptical, that-was-a-damn-lie-and-you-know-it look with his eyes. You could only face away from him for your sake and sanity, praying that this would just be a quick get-your-drinks and leave experience.

But the moment it becomes you and Seungkwan’s turn to order, you know that you’re going to be staying far longer than intended. 

Chan doesn’t realise it’s you at first. His entire brain might have already turned to mush with the amount of customers he’s had to make drinks for in the past three hours. So when he approaches the counter like a customer service zombie on autopilot, he gives his scripted greeting without looking up.

“Welcome to Chan’s Bubble Bar, what can I get for𑁋”

And then he sees you.

His brain malfunctions again.

Because you’re standing there, clearly not in your uniform, clearly not in shift, and clearly looking way too good to be accompanied by some random guy he doesn’t recognise, whose arm is clearly wrapped snugly around yours. 

The smile on his face fades before it could even fully form.

“Oh, hey, Y/N,” he murmurs. “Off-day?”

You give a shrug. “Yeah, off-day. Heard the weather was going to melt us all alive, so naturally, I got dragged here for a cold treat.” 

Chan’s eyes flicker down to where Seungkwan’s hand is still comfortably looped around your arm. And maybe it’s the heat, or maybe it’s the fact he’s made at least fifty drinks in the past hour, but something prickles sharply underneath his skin. 

It’s subtle, but enough for you to notice anyway𑁋the slight twitch at his lips, the tic of his jaw, the very unsubtle glance he shoots between you and Seungkwan. For some reason, it’s kind of… adorable. In some tragic, jealous-boy way. 

“What can I get for you both?” Chan asks, trying to keep his tone neutral.

“Hmm…” Seungkwan presses his lips together. “You know, I really have questions about your unhinged drink names. But I’ll take the Delulu Is The Solulu. Put extra tapioca because I do not fear death.” 

“One Delulu Is The Solulu…” Chan punches in the order on the register with a bit too much force under his fingertips. Then he looks at you. “And for you, rookie?”

You think for a moment, before smiling at him. “Surprise me.”

He stares at you for a few seconds as if you’ve just said something in a foreign language. Then he repeats what you’ve both ordered under his breath, punching a few buttons on the register, before giving the two of you a flat nod. 

“Order number forty-nine. It’ll be out in a few minutes. Next in line!” he exclaims, flicking the receipt from the printer and tossing it in you and Seungkwan’s faces𑁋you barely manage to catch it before Seungkwan pulls you to the side. 

You and Seungkwan both find yourself standing at the corner of the shop. From where you stand, you watch as Chan swiftly makes his drinks in his usual decorum, but it’s quite obvious to see how he’s a bit… on edge, turning his little bubble tea shop into his personal Hell’s Kitchen. You see how he pours the syrup and shakes the cups a bit too aggressively as if they’ve personally offended his ancestors. 

“Goodness, did you see how he glared at me?” Seungkwan nudges you while whispering. “He looked like he wanted to throw a blender in my face. His cortisol levels must be through the roof.”

You try not to smile. You really do. “That’s just his customer service face.”

“Right, Sherlock. And I’m fucking Beyoncé, babe,” Seungkwan rolls his eyes. “I swear, if he bursts a blood vessel and it gets in my drink I will be suing.” 

“Trust me, Boo. His drinks are amazing.” You assure to your heart’s content, because you’re not wrong𑁋his drinks have changed your entire world and standards on boba, honestly. 

It takes about five minutes for your drinks to be made. A bell dings across the shop.

“Order forty-nine!” Chan’s voice loudly bounces off the walls of the shop.

You and Seungkwan head over to the counter where Chan places two drinks on top. The first one he sets down a bit too roughly the contents inside the cup of shake, but for the second one, he places it down more softly, sliding it over to you directly.

Seungkwan’s drink looks aggressively pink and filled with an abundance of tapioca pearls, nearly resembling some sort of rogue science experiment gone wrong. On the other hand, yours appears carefully crafted. The base colour is clearly your favourite fruit, topped with rainbow pearls, lychee popping boba, and a perfect drizzle of cream foam𑁋with the addition of a tiny heart drawn in the foam.

Cute.

Seungkwan takes an experimental sip of the drink, face wrinkling from the sweetness, before his eyes widen. 

“Holy shit, this is good,” he huffs out with a laugh. “I’m definitely waking up with a sugar high the next morning, but damn, it hits the spot! But seriously, fourteen bucks?”

Chan shrugs from behind the counter. “Sorry, charged a little extra for yours with a flirting tax.”

You nearly spit out your drink on the first sip, and not because it’s bad𑁋it’s far from bad actually, practically perfection, but the absolute deadpan of a delivery from Chan was not what you expected at all. 

Seungkwan chokes on his boba beside you. “I’m sorry, buddy, a flirting tax? What kind of emotionally repressed, capitalism-driven nonsensical softboy shit𑁋”

Chan just shrugs again, busying himself with wiping down the counter, but you can clearly tell he’s enjoying this. “Just doing my job, man.” 

You’re trying very, very hard not to laugh, biting down on your lip to stifle the grin threatening its way across your features. Seungkwan looks like he’s about to jump over the counter Mission Impossible style to throw hands, while Chan just wears his familiar and annoyingly smug expression, clearly satisfied in the most petty way possible. 

“Jeez, dude, trust me I am not trying not to steal your girl,” Seungkwan adds defensively, choosing violence as always. “And yes, for the record, she talks about you so much I’m going to need some earplugs.” 

At that, Chan finally looks up, fingers halting mid-swipe. A flicker of surprise, then triumph, flashing past his eyes. 

“She talks about me?” he asks slowly, carefully.

“The hell she does,” Seungkwan continues, seemingly completely unfazed by the way you feel like you’re boiling from the side, the coldness from your drink not helping at all. “At this point, I’ve memorised your entire birth chart because of her, and there’s clearly some sexual ten𑁋”

“Alright, Boo, I get it! You need love and attention!” You interject quickly, elbowing him in the ribs hard enough to make him shut up and wince. “Go to the timeout corner right now.”

Seungkwan merely chuckles proudly, skipping off to the corner with his overly sugary drink in hand. Of course your best friend just had to nearly ruin everything. You watch as Seungkwan stands at the side, beaming at the two of you with popcorn-level interest, before you turn back to Chan with a sigh. 

He’s still staring at you, a small smile playing on his lips. It’s still laced with his annoying pride, yet there’s also something undeniable soft about it too. He opens his mouth to speak, but you swiftly put a hand up.

“Don’t let it get to your head,” You tell him. 

Chan just smirks. “Too late.” Then he leans in on the counter. “You talk about me?”

You glance away for a second, the smile on your face refusing to fade. “Are you going to be more insufferable if I said yes?”

“Absofuckinglutely.”

You snort at that. Briefly, you glance down at the curated heart in the foam, then back up at Chan. Warmth bubbles between the crevices of your ribs. 

“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” You admit quietly, masking away the confession with a sip of your drink.

Chan blinks, caught off-guard. “What?”

But you’re already turning on your heel to give him a proper response, instead only leaving him hanging with a, “Have a good rest of your day, Chan.”

He’s left standing there limply as you and Seungkwan slip your way through the door and back outside. 

But then, a wide victorious smile crosses his face. It’s enough to fully recharge his energy and his heart. 

The faint scent of weed and alcohol mixes in with the overwhelming smell of chlorine. 

There’s this little staff-only after gathering at the waterpark. So far, it’s been nothing but gloriously chaotic𑁋a completely unregulated event where you and your fellow attendants, lifeguards, and store owners can cannonball off slides and utilise the waterpark attractions with zero supervision. 

You expect Chan and Soonyoung to be here somewhere, but you haven’t seen either one of them at all this entire time. But to be fair, you have been sticking with Nayeon and a few other attendants in the lazy river for the past hour, floating down the stream on floaties with about three different brands of canned beers in your hands.

And honestly? You’re content. A little tipsy, damp, and relaxed in a way you haven’t felt in a long time.

Fifteen minutes later, you𑁋and about fifteen other people𑁋are gathered in a circle in a wide picnic area near the cabanas. Beach towels, lounge chairs, and even floaties are all being used as makeshift seating. All of you are being obnoxiously loud, sharing various horror stories about the now closed waterpark with one another, and clearly very buzzed. 

You’re currently sitting on your own beach towel, water dripping off your hair and body and onto the ground below. As you take another sip from your can, a sudden shadow looms above you. 

“Hey, rookie.” The voice is immediately recognisable, and you look up to see him𑁋Chan, very much topless and sporting a pair of swimming trunks, a towel over his shoulder, and water glistening off his skin like he’s the epitome of a TikTok thirst trap that came to life. You take in the view for a second too long. 

Your brain short-circuits for a moment. “Hey yourself.”

Chan drops down beside you on the towel, clicking open a can of beer for himself that he takes a long sip of before sitting it back down on the ground. 

“You having fun?” he asks.

You chuckle lightly, nodding your head. “Yeah. Is this, like, a yearly thing or?”

“Sort of this team-bonding tradition that we have every year,” he affirms. “Helps us veterans get to know the newbies𑁋you know, like you𑁋a bit more. And a way to destress from this absolute shitstorm of a summer so far.” 

Your fingers tap rhythmically against your can. “Hm, I don’t know. I’m starting to like this shitstorm of a summer.”

Chan turns to you, eyes beaming. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You meet his eyes momentarily, before shooting your gaze back down to your diamond-patterned towel and taking in a deep breath. “I’ve never enjoyed any of my other past jobs until this, you know. Thought I’d hate having to order kids around, but I guess seeing them scream their asses down a slide for eight hours straight is more appealing than you think.”

A laugh leaves Chan𑁋a full-on, unfiltered sound𑁋and it makes something inside you feel warm and fuzzy, and it’s definitely not entirely from the alcohol. 

“Well, I’d say you’re quite a natural,” he says, playfully nudging you with his shoulder. “You ever think about… coming back next year?”

You have thought about it. After all, you did only apply for the summer position temporarily, because the pay is average and you’re getting closer to graduating with a degree that could hopefully land you in a full-time job. But you aren’t lying that the thought of leaving when the summer ends is a bit, well… disappointing. 

Before you can answer his question, Soonyoung’s voice booms out from somewhere.

“Spin the bottle, truth or dare edition, losers! Everyone’s playing!” 

A collection of groans and cheers leap into the air. You and Chan stand up to bring the towel closer to the circle, settling in between Nayeon and this other lifeguard named Vernon from the Wave Pool. 

The bottle𑁋an empty, hastily-rinsed Sprite glass bottle𑁋sits in the very centre. 

“Everyone should know the rules by now: spin the bottle, ask the person it lands on truth or dare, and if they don’t answer or do the dare then they take a shot,” Soonyoung explains enthusiastically, clasping his hands together like some sort of cartoon villain. 

Soonyoung is the first to spin the bottle. He spins fast enough to have it roll off-centre. You watch as it slows to wobble, and you purse your lips together in anticipation at the odds of it landing on you, but it doesn’t.

It lands on Vernon.

“Alright, Wave Pool Prince.” Soonyoung turns towards Vernon with a mischievous grin. “Truth or dare?”

Vernon thinks for a moment, before casually answering, “Dare.”

“I dare you to call your ex and ask them on a date,” Soonyoung insists with confidence.

Vernon sighs, and you, Chan, and everyone else watches as he pulls out his phone, scrolls a few times, before bringing it up to his ear. You hear your other coworkers let out shouts and laughter of disbelief. 

“Hey,” Vernon says into the phone, clearing his throat. “I was just calling to ask𑁋hypothetically𑁋if you wanted to go on a date with me?”

There’s a pause.

Then he nods. “Oh, cool. Yeah, uh… are you free this Monday?”

A collective gasp ripples through the air. Vernon puts down his phone and shrugs.

“She said sure.”

Soonyoung’s jaw drops to the floor. “What the hell? I wish my ex was as receptive as yours.”

It’s Vernon’s turn to spin the bottle, but he doesn’t spin it with much force. It only spins one entire lap around the circle before stopping right at Nayeon, literally just a hardly an inch from it landing on you. 

“Shit,” she mutters, adjusting her bikini top like she was preparing to fight war. 

Vernon chuckles lightly. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Nayeon answers. 

Vernon leans back on his palms, trying to think of a proper truth to ask. A curious, yet devilish look runs across his face.

“Is it true I saw you hooking up with that one dude who works at the bar in the breakroom last week?”

Nayeon’s eyes nearly bulge out of her skull, and you nearly choke on your drink. You see the way she attempts to keep a straight face, but the guilt at her lips is far too obvious𑁋even a little kid could see she was hiding something.

“Okay, fine. He was cute, okay?!” she declares in embarrassment. “And I was hella stressed!”

Vernon just raises his can of beer toward her. “Honestly, respect, dude.”

Nayeon grumbles something under her breath before defeatedly clinking her own glass against his. 

A few more rounds pass by, the truths and dares getting more absurd by the second. Another lifeguard named Joshua was dared to go skinny dipping in the Lazy River, but lamely declined it with a shot. Soonyoung, ever the partygoer, chose dare on pretty much every single time the bottle landed on him, even accepting one to do a cannonball in the shallow bit of the pool𑁋which thankfully, he didn’t break anything. 

It’s Soonyoung’s turn again to spin the bottle. He gives it one wild spin, and everyone watches as it whirls around the centre, sending leftover droplets of water flying off its sides. It clinks against the concrete underneath, twirling a few times around the group.

It slows, wobbles a few times, and finally…

…lands on Chan.

“Fucking finally!” Soonyoung whoops excitedly, using his entire body to turn to Chan. “Channie boy, truth or dare?”

Chan pauses. There’s two ways out of this: choose truth and take the easy way out by letting Soonyoung ask him something stupid, or take the dare and do something stupid. Neither option seems exactly appealing at all. It’s Soonyoung, after all. 

For a second, he glances at you, sitting there and waiting patiently for him to answer, while the chant of the word dare floats tauntingly around him. He throws his head back with a groan, giving Soonyoung a challenging look. 

“You already know what I’m going to pick.”

“Dare it is,” Soonyoung quips gleefully. “I dare you to kiss the prettiest person in the circle right now. On the lips.”

There’s an eruption of absurd laughter at the dare. Chan feels a lump that he struggles to swallow down his throat, his expression frozen with a mixture of you’ve got to be fucking with me right now and I’m going to kill you, Kwon Soonyoung. 

He lets his instinctively gaze sweep around the circle, taking in everyone else’s expectant faces. But obviously, he doesn’t even need to consider anyone else in the circle𑁋there’s only one person, and one person only that he has in mind. 

His eyes linger on you beside him a little longer. 

You, sitting there with strands of wet hair stuck to your cheek. You, who came into Carat Bay with the grumpiness of an owl and wormed your way into his heart from the very first day that you met. You, who always left his boba shop flipping him yet still seemed to be the highlight of his day. You, who makes him feel like the dumbass protagonist in a summer flick. 

You, who is also looking at him right at this damn moment, as if you already know what he’s thinking. 

Chan leans in just a tiny bit, gaze flickering down to your lips and then back up to your eyes again. Your breath hitches at the imperceptible movement, as if maybe, just maybe, he was going to do it. 

Perhaps it’s the alcohol buzzing through his veins, or the look you’re giving that’s encouraging him to shove down all his nerves and just do it. But instead, he leans back, letting out a short, awkward, breathless laugh. He reaches for the bottle of soju next to Vernon’s feet and swallows down a long swig. 

It burns down his throat, and he allows the taste to distract him from the way your eyes are still on him. 

“Ugh, lame!” Soonyoung wails disappointingly. “That could’ve been your moment, dude!” 

Right next to him, you’re quiet. You don’t say anything. You can’t tell if what you’re feeling is relief, or disappointment. You give him a tiny nudge on the knees with your own, and he doesn’t look back up at you, though you can clearly see the tight-lipped smile on his face. 

From then, the game continues. The bottle spins. The dares become more scandalous. But Chan feels like he’s watching it from somewhere far away.

“Get home safe, girl!” You hear Nayeon call back to you from where you’re packing up your belongings.

“See you tomorrow!” You holler back, watching as the girl’s figure retreats in the direction of the parking lot.

Everyone else has left at this point. The waterpark has grown completely quiet, except for the sounds of crickets chirping and the gentle gurgle of water in the nearby pools. Chan has also left, though you didn’t specifically see him leave. Disappointment crawls up your skin as you swing your bag over your shoulder and grab an extra can of beer for the hell of it before starting your way out of the waterpark. 

You pass by the closed shops, stands, and attractions, knowing that you’re most likely leaving by the time summer ends, which is approaching way quicker than you needed it to be. 

You pause in front of Chan’s shop, the sign stating Chan’s Bubble Bar looming above you. All the lights are off inside, and you hardly ever thought how peaceful this place must be at night. Or chaotic, rather𑁋it’s easy to imagine Chan and Soonyoung being the dumbasses they are closing the shop late and creating new experimental drinks for the menu.

You smile at the thought.

You’re halfway across the bridge that overlooks the Lazy River when at the corner of your eye, you spot some movement. Your footsteps come to a halt, and you squint down to see something𑁋specifically, someone𑁋floating atop the water.

There, drifting down the slow current of the Lazy River, is Chan. His arms are spread out like wings over the water, head tilted to stare up towards the night sky. Compared to all your interactions and countless moments of bickering, it’s oddly serene to see him there just… living. 

You snort a little under your breath, amused, and wholeheartedly decide to screw it.

You dash your way down to the Lazy River, stopping at a point where he was slowly floating towards. He hasn’t noticed you yet.

“I can’t tell if you’re dead or just lost in thought.”

The sound of his voice quickly catches his attention, and he picks his head up to notice you standing there with your arms crossed, watching him with a small smile. Chan swiftly adjusts his position, his legs shooting under the water as he paddles himself to stay afloat. 

“Didn’t peg you for a midnight swim kind of guy,” You say, dropping your bag down on the floor.

“Yeah? Well, the more you know,” he quips back playfully. “I thought you were already gone.”

“I was leaving until I saw this dumbass floating here by himself,” You admit teasingly. “Mind if I joined you?”

Chan opens his mouth to answer, having this urge to say no, but quickly shuts himself up as he watches you peel your shirt off and throw it to the side, revealing the same swimsuit you’ve had on since earlier. He averts his eyes hastily, feeling the current pick up just slightly as you ease yourself into the pool. 

“Hey,” You greet him, making him spin his head back around just to freeze when he realises how close you’ve swam up to him.

He tenses, then relaxes. “Hey.”

The Lazy River continues carrying the two of you downstream. The silence is surprisingly comfortable𑁋just you, Chan, and the stars twinkling above. The water ripples softly around you, cool against your skin, but your chest is feeling otherwise. At one point, Chan picks his head up to gaze at you, seeing the way the moonlight reflects off the droplets on your skin, how peaceful you look just beside him. 

This is really the first ever moment of quiet between you two. 

“You know,” You start. “I really hated you at first.”

Chan chuckles at that. “I believe that’s everyone’s first impression of me.”

“Yeah. You and your annoyingly cocky ass.” A small laugh leaves you. “I thought you were so full of shit. I wanted to shove every word you said down your throat and probably smack you.”

“Ouch,” Chan mutters, cringing lightly. “Let me guess, you still want to smack me?”

You think long and hard for a few moments, before ultimately shaking your head, a smirk crossing your face.

“Honestly? You have the most smackable face on the planet,” You downright confess. “But, unfortunately… you’re too cute, so no. Well, maybe sometimes.”

The two of you exchange a fit of giggles at that. Chan feigns a scandalised look, pretending to be offended, but you don’t miss the way his ears flush pink. Even in moonlight, he still becomes shy when you flirt back to him. Underneath the water, your knees accidentally brush, but neither of you seem to mind. 

“I’m not always this confident,” Chan adds in, his voice coming off more sheepish. “Yeah, being an absolute prick is fun, but sometimes I wonder if I do it just to cover my ass when I don’t know what to say.”

You turn to him curiously, allowing the current to drift you closer to him.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” he rambles on, and you let him. “but yeah, I never once had a crush who liked me back in that way. I’ve always driven them away with how I act. It’s like… I don’t really know how to just be when I like someone.”

The raw honesty hits you hard. Because in what other universe does the annoying, prideful,  overly territorial, pain in the ass Lee Chan confess something like this to someone? In what universe has anyone seen this vulnerable side of him? Sure, you two can bicker like puppies and drive each other to the edge with playful threats, but this? 

This is the real him. 

“I like you,” You admit quietly.

Chan’s brows raise. “What?”

“I like you, Chan,” You echo back, more confident and louder this time. “And maybe I do want to drown your dumbass sometimes, I still like you.”

There’s that befuddled look on his face again𑁋a face you’ve grown to adore. You visibly see the way he struggles to process your words, his brain clearly malfunctioning yet again, or like it always does when you say something genuine to him. The river curves slightly, pushing the two of you even closer together to the point where your shoulders are almost brushing. 

“Oh,” is all that squeaks out of him. “That’s… cool. Great. Fantastic, even.”

You blink. “Is that seriously your response?”

“I𑁋no, I mean𑁋I like you too,” he stammers out, voice rising an octave as he waves his arms, causing a small splash. “Like, a lot. Probably since the day you called me a pain in the ass.”

It’s hard to suppress the way your mouth is twitching into a grin. “You’re so fucking lame, you know that?”

“Let a guy panic in front of his crush!” he exclaims shakily. “I’m in uncharted territory! I didn’t know you’d actually mean it.”

“Well, I did,” You say simply, tilting your head as you float next to him. “Even when you’re being a smug idiot. Even when you didn’t kiss me earlier. I still like you, Chan.”

Chan winces at the memory. “I just… I’m sorry.”

You find yourself floating directly in front of him, close enough he can feel your body heat radiating onto his. He stares at you𑁋really stares at you𑁋like he can’t believe what’s real and what’s not. The fact that you’re even here right now sends his heart into a complete overdrive. He swears he’s going to burst.

“Then fix it,” You insist lowly. 

Chan’s eyes widen. “What?”

“Kiss me, Chan.”

A small, disbelieving laugh leaves him. And then without another word, he starts to lean in. This time, there’s no hesitation, no second-guessing. 

You meet him halfway.

One of his hands drift down under the water to rest at your waist, the other coming to cup your face. Your own hands settle on top of his shoulders, holding onto him as your lips brush up against each other, allowing the current to drift you both. But you barely feel it. All you can feel is him. 

The kiss itself isn’t cinematic, grand, or an explosion of fireworks. It’s warm, clumsy, and sweet all at once. He tastes faintly of the soju earlier and from summer heat, like laughter exchanged in nights under the stars and something else that is undeniably him𑁋sweat, boba teas, and the endless teasing that follows him around. You melt shamelessly into it anyway, relishing how soft his lips are against yours and the jittery hands clutched onto you as if he still can’t believe that you’re real.

His nose accidentally bumps into yours, causing you to giggle into the kiss. The water continues to slosh around you as your hand comes up to cradle the nape of his neck, pulling him deeper into you. There’s a small hitch of his breath that leaves him at the touch, sending shivers up and down his spine. 

When you finally pull apart your arm, Chan is absolutely gawking at you. 

“Holy shit,” he says breathlessly. “Someone pinch me𑁋did that just happen?”

You roll your eyes, reaching down to pinch him lightly on his waist. 

“Ow!” He flinches, shooting you a small glare. “I meant it metaphorically!”

“God, you’re such a loser,” You say with an all-too-fond expression. 

His eyes flutter to a close as he feels the way your thumb is rubbing circles on the skin at the top of his shoulder. For a moment, the two of you just float there, with your foreheads pressed together and completely ignoring the way your limbs are basically turning into prunes for being in the water for God knows how long at this point.

Chan giggles sheepishly. “We’re going to be so royally screwed when we go back to tomorrow, you know that, right?”

You steal another quick kiss from his lips again, and he completely forgot what he just said two seconds before. 

“Yeah, well…” You allow your head to rest on top of his shoulder, his arms slipping properly around you under the water. “At least we’ll be screwed together.” 

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[7-deadly-cats]

killing me softly | 20

K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->

✿ G E N R E ✿ she fell first, he fell harder | slice of life | drama

✿ P A I R I N G ✿ s1!rafe cameron x overthinking!reader (f)

✿ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ✿ swearing, suggestive themes and implications, sexual jokes, pic of reader not depicting her appearance just the vibes, rafe ovulating again, jealous!rafe, kinda angsty but mostly fluff and giggles, just them being them, description of bruise, reader and rafe drinking a little

✿ S U M M A R Y O F L A S T P A R T ✿ during a cozy moment with rafe where you both felt close and comfortable, he suddenly left without explanation after someone spammed his phone. you didn’t know who it was, which sent you into a huge spiral. 30 minutes later, kie joined you bc she saw rafe leave the venue, explained her childhood history with rafe and sarah, warned you about his behavior, but also said he’s probably into you. after the movie, you rejoined the group. while talking with the girls, topper called you over to talk about cara, but rafe came back coked up, got mad at topper, and even punched him. security got involved, and he stormed off again. you followed him to the parking lot where you two had a big fight. he lashed out, hit your insecurities, and you stood up for yourself. as you left, he called after you, apologized, admitted he has anger issues he can't control, and finally told you ruthie was blackmailing him with a video of him doing coke at kelce's party, trying to force him to convince his dad to accept her dad’s joint venture deal. you told him you’d handle it together and wanted him to be honest with you and communicate his issues in the future. you then went back inside, even closer than before.

✿ W O R D C O U N T ✿ 7k + max use of images

✿ A / N ✿ // don't get confused, this was originally an extra but i decided to make it part of the main series bc it's just too essential for the plot and their dynamic

original A / N: well, i guess this actually counts as a chapter bc it's basically just a continuation of the main story and long af for an extra, but, yeah, no, actually no clue why i called this an extra lmao. also i kinda rushed the ending but guess it will do. ok, talking too much again, so, ANYWAY, enjoy, and lmk what you think <33

++ don't get confused pls, rafe refers to cara as hall aka her surname

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

W E E K O N E // S U N D A Y 9 : 5 5 P M

“Kinda toxic,” you said with a chuckle as you watched Rafe switch off your phone and place it on the little side-shelf on his side of the lounge bed.

Rafe let out an amused scoff as he turned back to you, catching the teasing glint in your eyes. “These rats? Yeah. Being nosy as fuck, spamming your phone.”

Like, seriously. He’d only caught a glimpse of your screen—something about someone shrieking (which, yeah, someone actually had)—and then freaking Kie dared to ask if you were okay?

What the fuck.

Did they think he’d beat you up in the parking lot or some shit? Especially Kie saying that, of all people. Like, come on. She should know best, he at least could keep his damn hands in check during arguments.

Fuck her. Especially for sending that dumbass chicken or whatever-the-fuck creature pic directed at him that looked like one of yours. (Which, others using those pics with you? Yeah, nah. That didn’t sit right with him at all.)

Anyway. Fuck those other clucking little nosy rats too. Fucking great that those were your friends now. And dragging Molly, the only tolerable girl after you, into Sarah’s shitty-ass group? Shit was getting worse by the day.

“They’re just worried,” you said, amused, a small smile tugging at your perfectly shaped lips. “Pretty sure also about you.”

Shit. Rafe was staring again.

His eyes flicked back up to yours, and he rolled them with a small nod. “Yeah, sure. The only thing they care about is squeezing some gossip out of you. Bet all the previous messages were about me.”

Just imagining how they'd probably flood you with questions later: Why Rafe had left. What you two had talked about. Why he'd punched Topper. Blah blah blah.

Typical nosy girl bullshit.

And Rafe swore to God, he really hoped none of those stupid little mind-minions of yours were buying into that crap. He didn’t need anyone knowing what kind of shit he was caught up in now. Especially not Princess Sarah.

Fuck. If she found out, she’d go straight to Dad and—

“Probably, yeah,” you chuckled, and Rafe felt a crease forming between his brows. “But I’m not gonna share anything you don’t want me to.”

Huh.

He hadn’t expected that. He was used to girls rushing to their friends the second they had a crumb of “tea to spill” or whatever the hell you girls called it. But you claiming not do so...

He raised a brow, fingers absently twisting the little key charm on your bracelet. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, of course,” you replied, sounding genuine. “I mean, personally, if it were me, I’d probably at least tell Topper and Kelce. They are your best friends after all, and they both know Ruthie better than either of us. Plus, I’d say they’d definitely want to help you out with this mess.”

You pressed your lips together for a moment before continuing. “But I totally get it if that's something you’d rather keep to yourself. And obviously I’m gonna respect that.”

Rafe grimaced.

Tell Topper and Kelce? Sure, he’d probably rant to Kelce about this fucked-up situation—Kelce always listened, and when it came down to it, the dude knew how to shut the fuck up when asked. But Topper?

It was bad enough he’d agreed to tell that fucker he didn’t deserve the punch in the face (even though, let’s be honest, clean hit), and now he was supposed to reward him with some kind of answer?

Hell no. Topper had been hanging out with that bitch Ruthie way too much lately. Couldn’t be trusted even if he claimed he didn’t know what was going on.

“You don’t agree.” Your soft voice pulled him back and he stopped fidgeting with the bracelet.

Rafe furrowed his brows, rubbing his jaw. “Topper’s a backstabber. Don’t give a shit if he’s involved or not. He still hung out with that bitch.”

He almost laughed at your frown. You looked like an angry cat.

You tapped his chest lightly, shifting upward and—Fuck.

He could feel your boobs pressing into his side now.

Shitshitshitshit. Please just say what you wanna say and move back.

“He probably just didn’t wanna be alone tonight,” you said (Jesus Christ, Rafe wasn’t even sure he had the brainpower to follow you right now). “Cara stuck with JJ, Kelce with Molly, and well,” You gave him a sheepish smile. “You with me.”

Rafe’s lips twitched with amusement, but before he could say anything, you beat him to it.

“What I’m trying to say is,” you continued, sounding a little awkward, “I can’t really blame him for wanting to be with someone tonight. Yeah, sure, Ruthie wouldn’t have been my first choice, but—”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Rafe cut you off with a tight nod, nudging you back with two fingers to your forehead. Because holy fuck, he could feel his blood heading straight to the wrong places again. “Enough talk about those two.”

You blinked at him, surprised, and shifted your upper body slightly away. Rafe had to fight the strongest damn urge not to glance at the view the movement of the blanket offered him in that moment of the shape of your boobs in that sweet little dress of yours.

Shit.

He could see the little minions in your brain scrambling, trying to figure out what was wrong. And then he saw the exact second one of them got it.

“Shit, relax,” he said, half amused at your reaction and half irritated at his own almost-reaction. “I just—”

"You know, if you need a minute in the toilet stalls, just say so," you said, dry amusement clinging to your voice.

YO, WHAT.

That—shit, what??? Had Rafe just missed something or had you actually just offered him the chance for a quickie?

"For yourself!" you added, almost panicked, eyes wide, and Rafe could practically feel the heat radiating off your face.

Shit was hilarious.

And yeah, of course you hadn’t meant it the way he’d first thought. Besides the fact that you'd made it very clear you weren’t interested in him like that (why the fuck, though???), no way you'd want your first time to happen in some filthy toilet stall where any random loser could listen if they wanted to.

Nah, Rafe had decency. He wouldn't have let that happen. Even if you’d insisted. Okay, maybe he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to resist if you'd actually wanted to go through with it, but he’d have at least had the patience to wait until you two had a room.

“Sure.” Rafe raised his brows, a slow grin tugging at his lips. And then, fuck it, he let his right hand wander—just a little, just a tiny inch—from your waist toward your hip. Surely that wouldn’t—

Shit.

Okay, never mind. He moved it back to its original spot because he could basically hear your minions screaming inside your head, sprinting around in full panic mode and about to throw themselves down a deep, shitty spiral. He definitely didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable, or worse, have you bolt.

Or even worse, end up in another long-ass conversation with you.

“Sorry,” he muttered with a tight chuckle, already questioning his own self-control. Still, he couldn’t help being a little disappointed by the way you’d looked at him like a deer about to get shot.

And then—he almost thought he misheard it. A tiny “No, it’s okay,” slipped past your lips, soft enough to make his heart straight-up skip a beat. Big eyes locked on his, full of uncertainty and… something else.

Now Rafe was fucking confused. Because what?

What.

You'd claimed he was sending mixed signals, but you? Shit, you were a traffic light flashing both red and green at the same time.

At least Rafe had had the balls to tell you he was attracted to you. But you? You only ever admitted to enjoying hanging out with him. Nothing more. Okay, sure, you’d complimented his looks—like, twice—but only after he’d done so first. So that was probably just some polite etiquette bullshit.

Fuck, Rafe couldn’t make sense of you. And it kinda made him feel like a joke that the one time he felt this insane pull toward a girl, she didn’t feel the same.

Shit felt fucking unfair.

Whatever you’d meant with that little sentence, though, Rafe forced himself to keep his hand in the appropriate zone. No point pushing his luck. Also, he’d probably misheard it anyway, ears still ringing from leftover coke in his system. Last thing he wanted was for you to think he couldn’t control himself.

That would just be pathetic.

So he shook his head, lips tugging downward. “Nah, don’t wanna wake one of your fuckass minions.”

Not waiting for your reply, his hand slid up to your shoulder, gently nudging you back against his chest. Better play it safe than risk chasing you off with one stupid impulsive move. (Which—he, not taking a risk? Might as well accept he was going completely nuts.)

Thank God, you did lean back into him, a chuckle slipping from your lips. But Rafe didn’t miss the twitch of your brows or that almost disappointed glint in your eyes just before.

Shit, you were confusing the fuck out of him, but somehow that only made the pull toward you worse. There was something thrilling about it. Almost like a shot of adrenaline—having to play with a new set of rules with you. The fact he didn't even know if there was a playground to begin with.

But that only made you more interesting. Because with you, he had no choice but to hold back. Flirt a little, sure. But anything more? He had to keep his fucking cock in check unless he wanted to ruin whatever this weird little friendship was.

And well, he guessed actual friends didn’t let their hands wander like that. Shit, no—just the thought of doing something like that with Kelce or—

NAH. Fuck that. Eugh.

Okay, at least that image helped kill the very real problem in his pants threatening to rise again.

Shiiiit. Right!

He just had to start viewing you like one of the guys. A very cute, girly-looking guy who happened to look way too good in that dress, whose boobs had been pressed against his chest a minute ago and had threatened to make him hard again for the second fucking time tonight.

Fucking hell, you weren’t making it easy for Rafe.

Fuck it. Maybe he should look for another girl to hook up with on the side. Just to relieve this stupid pressure he seemed to feel because of you. Shit was starting to make even him uncomfortable. And the last thing he wanted was to ruin this friendship thingy with you just because some other part of him had other plans.

Huh. Nah.

What the fuck. What was wrong with him?

The idea of getting a side chick just to stay sane around you??? What was he, some horny fucking dog? Shit. Fuck. What the hell. Besides, he was done with girls like that anyway. He had way bigger problems than this suddenly raging sex drive.

But he also didn’t wanna waste another second thinking about that psycho bitch Ruthie either. She’d already ruined this little “bonding moment” of yours (still kinda cute that you called it that). Rafe had zero desire to keep stewing in that mess. He couldn’t change anything about this fucked up situation right now anyway. No point wasting more energy on that bullshit.

Jesus Christ—no, for real now—what the fuck was in your goddamn perfume?

And when your head tilted up again, eyes moving from the shitty-ass robot car movie to his face, Rafe could feel the way his nerves lit up.

He fully expected you to question what that little move of his had been about, ask why he'd said he wanted to be friends but then acted like that (which, honestly, he didn’t fucking know either lol), but thank God you didn’t.

“So, just to be safe,” you said with a sheepish smile, “if they ask about what happened, which I’m 99 percent sure they will—Cara at the very least—what do you want me to say?”

Somehow, the fact that you asked him how he wanted the situation to be handled, without pushing your own opinion on him, without instantly running off to your annoying friends to spill everything…

Shit made a very weird feeling rise in his chest.

Besides Kelce and maybe Wheezie, no one ever talked to Rafe about things without just going ahead and act on their own. No one ever bothered to involve him or ask for his opinion. Even his dad—Rafe always came up with solid ideas and plans that could actually push Cameron Development forward in the long run, but he never listened.

No one ever fucking listened to what Rafe had to say, and he was so fucking sick of it.

All of them acted purely out of self-interest without a second thought, doing dumb shit that could’ve easily been avoided if they just fucking used their brains.

But you... every second Rafe spent around you, every time you said something or did something or revealed more of yourself, it felt like he’d finally found someone who got him. Someone who just knew. Someone who—

“Rafe?”

He blinked.

Shit. You’d caught him so off guard, he’d just stared at you.

“Uh, yeah,” he mumbled, letting out a startled little laugh, his thumb brushing over the soft skin on your wrist for a second before he realized what the fuck he was doing and let his fingers drop beside your hand again. “I—sorry, what?”

Shit, what the fuck was up with him? He still had some leftover coke in his system, and he still acted like this.

Your brows twitched for a moment, and he thought you’d back off now, but instead you just chuckled, that mix of embarrassment and amusement so sweet in your tone.

“What do you want me to say if someone asks what happened?” you repeated. “I mean, they know you left because someone texted you.”

So you had spilled a few details to your new shitty-ass friends earlier, but Rafe guessed he could live with that.

In hindsight, he did feel kinda bad for not telling you why he'd left. If you had pulled that shit, he probably would’ve gone after you and demanded to know what the fuck that had been about. And, well, in the end, you did chase after him and snapped at him, but as soon as he'd explained the problem, you immediately switched.

Straight into solution-mode. Proactive.

Shit, that’s what Rafe needed. Someone who offered him ways out of this fucked-up mess. Someone who showed him what to do next, how to tackle something, not some whiny bitch crying about how sorry they were for him.

He knew the situation was fucked up already.

“Dunno.” Rafe scratched his jaw, brows furrowed. “It’s none of their business. So probably that.”

“Uh, yeah, no, pretty sure that’s not gonna satisfy them,” you said with dry amusement, twisting his polo fabric between your fingers.

Rafe slapped your hand lightly, frowning. “Stop that. You’re creasing it.”

You let out an amused chuckle and stopped fidgeting. “They won’t be happy to hear you used violence against me.”

Ha. Ha.

Rafe scoffed but then his expression dropped almost instantly when he remembered how harshly he’d grabbed your wrist earlier when you'd stepped to his side as soon as the security guards arrived. He’d expected stupid Kelce or Topper but then saw your big scaredy eyes and it felt like someone had smashed a fucking sledgehammer against his face.

“I was joking,” you said softly now, those same big eyes on him, only this time without the fear from earlier.

Rafe’s chest clenched. “Yeah, no, I know, I just…” He furrowed his brows, glancing at your wrist, looking for any kind of bruise. “Earlier, when I grabbed you. I shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

For a moment, you just looked at him. Almost stunned. Then you shook your head with a soft smile, and somehow Rafe knew things were okay.

“It’s alright,” you said gently. A chuckle escaped your lips. “I mean, you do have a firm grip, but you didn’t actually hurt me. And I know you didn’t mean to.”

Rafe didn’t even— Jesus Christ, somehow your understanding made him feel worse than if you’d actually guilt-tripped him.

This sudden urge to apologize arose in him. To say he was sorry for leaving you behind, for keeping you in the dark, for yelling at you, for being sorry about every shitty thing he’d done this week that might’ve made you feel like you were anything less than you actually were.

Because the truth was, as crazy and messed up as you were, you were still better than him.

You were sweet and gentle, polite and kind, and you had this way of handling him so effortlessly (when your little minions weren’t going wild, at least), it felt like he could breathe around you. He didn’t feel like he had to prove anything to you.

And the words were sitting right there on the tip of his tongue, but he knew he’d mess it up. He didn’t know how to actually say what he meant, how to express how much he appreciated you still sticking around. He’d just stumble over himself and end up sounding pathetic.

So all he did was nod, eyes fixed on the heart charm on your bracelet he was currently fidgeting with, and said, “Still, I’m sorry.” His gaze met yours again. “About everything.”

Fuck, he was so bad at this shit, and it pissed him off that he couldn’t just say what he meant. How the fuck did you always know exactly what to say?

To his surprise, you just nodded—no big speech, no dramatic nonsense, just a soft smile on your lips as you gently smoothed out the wrinkle you’d made in his polo. And all you said was, “Apology accepted.”

Again. How the fuck did you always manage to say exactly what Rafe needed to hear? Seriously. Shit was crazy.

“Now I kinda wanna watch that movie you claim is so terrible,” you added with a teasing glint in your eyes, and shit—Rafe couldn’t help but wonder what that playful little spark of yours would look like in the bedroom.

He grimaced—both because yeah, the movie was garbage, and also because he couldn’t go five fucking minutes without one of those images popping into his head.

“Shit, it is,” he said. “Barbie was better than whatever this crap is. Fucking robot cars from space. Like, who the fuck came up with this shit? One of your fuckass minions?”

You raised a brow. “Funny, coming from the guy who missed half the Barbie movie.”

Oh you—

“Sorry,” you giggled, the sound vibrating softly against his ribs. “I mean, you’re right. Barbie did have way more important things to say than whatever the hell Optimus Prime is talking about right now.”

Rafe snorted. “Aight, I think you better stop talking now before this bonding moment turns into a breakup moment.”

“Hah. That’d be the record for the shortest friendship I’ve ever had,” you replied with soft amusement, tapping once on his chest. “Thirty-two hours.”

Dude.

"You for real right now?" No fucking way you counted the actual hours.

You just stared at him, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

Rafe's lips parted in disbelief, because what the fuck.

"Just kidding," you chuckled.

"No the fuck you weren't."

“No, I wasn’t.” You shifted slightly, turning your upper body toward him, brows raised with a cheeky smile. "Okay, listen, there's this tracker app—"

"Aw, shit, no," Rafe laughed, absolutely baffled, his voice cracking halfway through, as he playfully nudged your head off his chest. "You're fucking crazy."

You (not so gently) slapped his hand away with a scoff. "I do the same with Cara. It's cool knowing the exact day we became best friends."

Jesus Christ. What the fuck had he gotten himself into here?

Rafe’s face twisted into whatever emotion existed between being weirded out and somehow enjoying the fact you tracked your new friendship.

He let out a heavy breath and nodded. "Shit, I guess. I hope you know this is insane, though."

"Okay," you mock-sighed with a shrug. He felt his nerves buzz when you shifted back onto his chest, eyes back on the shitty-ass movie. "Guess I’ll go ahead and delete our entry then."

Huh? What. No!

Rafe frowned, staring at the back of your head, hating himself for what he was about to say. "What’s this fuckass app called?"

He felt your chest rumble against his as you chuckled again. Without even glancing his way, you said, "TrackerBuddies."

Aw, hell no. Fuck that.

Kelce had begged him to download that shit back in like 8th grade or so. Rafe hadn’t thought much of it and then he had to listen to Kelce whining for weeks about why Rafe never watered their digital plant that was apparently supposed to symbolize their friendship or some bullshit. Honestly, what the fuck.

Deleted that app immediately.

"Nah," Rafe said. "Kelce uses it. If he sees me on there again, he’s gonna start bitching about why I haven’t added him back."

Rafe already knew the second you tilted your head back to meet his gaze that he wasn’t gonna like whatever you were about to say.

"I know", you said with a smug smile. "I saw your sad, dried-up little plant in his friends' library. Didn’t even make it to level 3."

Shit. What.

"You two are friends on there?" he asked, staring at you blankly, his voice way drier than intended.

Your lips twitched into a downward smile. "Well, yeah. We kinda ended up talking about it in History on Friday and then I added him."

Hah. Funny. Fucking hilarious.

Not only had you and Kelce become friends before you and Rafe—apparently in real life and on this fuckass app—but you had added Kelce willingly.

A deep, ugly feeling spread in Rafe’s chest, his brows twitching in confusion. "And which level are you two fuckers on?"

"Five."

FIVE? In three fucking days? How— What—

"You’re bullshitting."

You laughed. "What?"

"Yeah," Rafe said, brows furrowed. "That’s impossible."

"Well, we got an early friendship boost for watering Willy for three days. Lots of XP."

Willy? You named the fuckass plant you shared with Kelce Willy?

Rafe just blinked at you, a deep scowl forming on his face that he couldn’t stop if he wanted to. That awful feeling in his chest only got worse.

"Fuck that," he finally muttered, pulling his right hand away from your waist to fish his phone out of his pocket. "What’s your friend code?"

You giggled as you shifted position, hugging your side of the blanket to your chest as you sat upright next to him. "You really wanna add me or do you just wanna beat Kelce’s level?"

Rafe nodded, frowning, eyes glued to the App Store as he re-downloaded this stupid-ass app. "Yes."

"Alright," you chuckled, leaning against his shoulder to peek at his screen. "I think you just need to click on Kelce’s profile—yeah, there—and then in his friend library—yes, that’s my profile."

Rafe’s frown deepened when he saw your whole friends list on this cursed app. Your crazy-ass best friend, of course. Shitface Kelce, obviously. Molly. Fucking Topper, who probably only downloaded it to follow the trend. Even pogue rat John B, what the actual fuck, and that Heyward boy.

And worst of all: Sarah.

Seriously, he couldn’t even describe how much this pissed him off. Every idiot in the damn universe seemed to be on your friends list—except him.

But the funny thing? He didn’t see any of those fuckers’ bracelets on your wrist.

What a fucking joke.

"Give me my phone," you said, amused. "Then I can add you back."

Rafe wasted no time. But apparently your shitty phone did, taking forever to boot back up after he’d turned it off earlier.

"Jesus," you muttered with a laugh as Rafe hovered over your shoulder to make sure you actually added him back.

He shifted back just as his phone vibrated with a notification from that fuckass app. Rafe’s heart skipped a beat (fuck, what) as he read the message:

yourusername just added you as a friend [+50 XP]

And then another:

yourusername promoted you to their Best Buddy [+100 XP]

Rafe’s head snapped up, meeting your amused grin with a baffled look. Shouldn’t that title go to—

"Cara doesn’t take this as seriously as I do," you said, chuckling sweetly and nodding toward his phone. "So you better prove yourself worthy."

Oh, you could bet your sweet little ass he would.

Rafe couldn’t even stop the smile from creeping onto his face. Just the fact that you were now officially friends—Best Buddies, even—on this dumb fucking app honestly excited him almost as much as the fact that you were wearing his bracelet around your wrist.

I’m fucking losing it, dude.

"Also, I assume your account’s pretty old," you said, face twisting into an amused grimace.

Rafe narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

You pressed your lips together, trying not to laugh as you looked at your screen. "DarthDude."

Shit.

He scowled.

Yeah, fuck. He’d kinda forgotten about the username he’d made in 8th grade. Had some cringe-ass Star Wars phase back then because of Kelce. Eugh. He had the full package—lightsaber, posters, even a couple helmets in his room.

Embarrassing as hell.

Though he had kept two of the red lightsabers above his bedframe since it made a pretty cool LED for when some girl came over.

Anyway, no chance in hell he was addressing that. Way beneath him.

So he just shook his head with a frown, grabbed both your phones despite your protests, set them aside on his end, and leaned back against the bed frame, his right hand finding your waist again.

“Enough of this shit now,” he muttered and scowled as your body seemed to resist when he tried nudging you back onto his chest. “What? Gonna miss the second shitty-ass movie thanks to you.”

You just chuckled, murmuring a quiet “Drama queen” as you thankfully settled back against him.

Rafe exhaled.

Peace settled back into him with you curled up on his chest again, your perfume lingering in the air.

As much as this movie sucked, he was already dreading its end. Because that would mean the end of this. And then he’d have to face a swarm of annoying-ass people again, all ready to bombard both of you with questions and stupid jokes (honestly, he was still surprised Kelce hadn’t gotten up from his lounge bed to go check on Rafe).

The only good thing about all that?

You’d be there, too. And Rafe would damn well make sure not to leave your side again.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

"Shiiit, you half-blind now or what?" Rafe asked, chuckling as he eyed Topper's bloodshot left eye.

Fucker looked busted. Left cheekbone red, already hinting at a nasty bruise forming. Looked worse than Rafe’s own, and he hadn’t even hit Top that hard.

After that not-so-shitty-movie had ended, Kelce and Molly had immediately jumped from their lounge bed over to the one Rafe had shared with you, grinning at you two like a pair of fucking idiots.

Thank fuck they'd held back on questions about earlier. Just a few comments about you and Rafe cuddling, and Kelce asking if Rafe was alright. That was it.

That was actually one of the few things Rafe appreciated about Kelce. No whiny, unnecessary bullshit.

Shortly after, you’d called Hall to ask where she was, and you all met at the bar on the side of the venue, now sitting at one of the wooden picnic tables. Rafe had immediately taken the seat to your right on one of the benches, Kelce scooting in right after (did he seriously rather sit next to Rafe than his new girlfriend, dude, what the fuck).

And the first thing Rafe had noticed as the other three sat down across from you: Topper’s sorry-ass condition.

Shit sure as hell wasn’t that bad, and Rafe figured the fucker was just playing it up to get some sympathy from your best friend. Apparently, it worked because they’d spent the second movie together in the first aid tent.

Great. Another annoying couple.

“Seriously?” Cara said before Topper could even start complaining. “I’d say 100% blind, considering he believed Ruthie to be good company.”

A baffled laugh escaped Rafe’s lips (shit, maybe your friend wasn’t all that bad). He could even see you out of the corner of his eye suppressing a chuckle beside him.

Idiot Topper sulked, raising the cool pad back to his cheek. “She asked me to go join them, so I did. Would you guys have preferred I cuddled up to one of you?”

“Fuck no,” Rafe shot back in sharp disbelief, only to glance at you as you kicked him gently under the table. Your eyes said something along the lines of “Remember what we talked about.”

Aw, shit. Right. He’d promised you earlier he’d show some remorse toward Topper (why the hell had he agreed to that again?).

Eugh. Rafe didn’t wanna do that shit. Saying anything remotely apologetic out loud would mean he’d be submitting to fucking Topper of all people. That guy was a whiny little bitch, and Rafe had no intention of giving him any kind of satisfaction. Especially since there was still a chance he’d been involved in that Ruthie bullshit.

But for you? Rafe would do it. He owed you that much.

So before Kelce could open his mouth to say some shit like Could’ve squeezed in between me and Molly, blah blah she’s wonderful, blah blah, Rafe gathered all his strength and willpower, ffurrowed his brows, and said, “But you could’ve joined some other chick in the front rows. Would’ve spared you that unfortunate bruise.”

What?

He’d said what you asked of him, but everyone still looked at him like he was speaking in riddles. Especially Topper—squinting like he couldn’t make sense of Rafe’s words. The fuck.

“I think he’s trying to say he would’ve rather not hit you,” you said with a smile.

Hah. See. You always knew what to say. Why even make Rafe do it?

Then came another kick to his leg, followed by you giving him that way-too-sweet smile and raised eyebrows. “Right?”

Not just a Crazyhead, but a stubborn one too. Alright.

Rafe didn’t wanna drag this unnecessary topic out any longer, so he just nodded, reluctant as hell. “Uh-huh. Yeah, sure.”

That's all Topper was getting. And thank god, that idiot just responded with a slight smile and a nod. “Maybe next time, though, let me know what’s wrong before going all in.”

Rafe almost laughed out loud. If he’d gone all in, Topper would be in the hospital right now. But sure, let this idiot believe whatever the fuck he wanted.

“Yeeaahhh,” Hall said, curling her lips and raising her brows directly at Rafe. “I meaaaan, what did happen?”

Oh, you’d been right about this one too. Your nosy friend being nosy. Fucking great.

Funny enough, Molly shot her an uncharacteristically sharp side-eye. Aight, those chicks had definitely been chatting behind Rafe’s back, and he was willing to bet their whole convo was sitting in that stupid little girlie group chat he’d caught a glimpse of earlier.

Rafe rubbed his jaw in annoyance and leaned back against the cushioned backrest, his left arm resting behind your shoulders. “Some fucker decided to annoy me mid-movie and I had to take care of a few things. Shit’s solved now.”

Kelce raised his brows. “Who—”

“Ruthie?” your best friend blurted out.

Shit, what. How had she— what the fuck. How had both of you caught on that fast?

Rafe furrowed his brows, scratching at the label on his flask. For some reason, he felt the sudden urge to play with your bracelet, but he resisted. Instead, he said, “Yeah, but like I said, I took care of it.”

No point denying what everyone already seemed to know. Not that they needed to know he was knee-deep in that shit.

“So that’s why she left,” Topper muttered, looking like some sulky crybaby. “Just giggled to Gracie and Samantha and then dipped. Didn’t think she’d talk to you.”

Just drop this shit already, Jesus Christ. Hadn’t Rafe literally just said it was dealt with?

Kelce nodded. “Must’ve been something bad, the way you stormed off your seat.”

Shit, him too now?

Rafe could feel how this was making you uncomfortable, the way you quietly fidgeted with the straw in your drink. Your brain probably spiraling again over the whole fact of Rafe leaving you behind.

Alright, fuck that. You two didn’t come here for some kind of interrogation.

“I said it’s been handled,” Rafe repeated, sharper now. “So quit pissing me off. Had enough of this shit tonight.”

Luckily for them, everyone shut the hell up. Otherwise, Rafe might’ve actually crashed the fuck out.

“O-kayyy,” Hall said with a tight smile, blinking as she clasped her hands. “Sooo, how did everyone like the movies?”

Great. Female Kelce, apparently.

At least that finally shifted the convo to something that didn’t involve Rafe, Ruthie, or Rafe and Ruthie.

And since he was done talking for the night, Rafe just relaxed in his seat, took a sip of this cheap-ass pogue beer, and listened to whatever the idiots at this table—and you—were chatting about. Occasionally, he’d throw in a comment.

Whenever you giggled at something, he soaked it all the way up, letting himself smile along when you started rambling about which Barbie movie was your favorite as a kid (fucking Kelce joining in for some reason).

And when Rafe caught himself absentmindedly toying with the fabric of your dress near your shoulder—somehow calming to his brain—he cursed himself for doing that in public. But he didn’t stop. You didn’t seem to mind.

As a matter of fact, you didn’t even pull away when Rafe rested his knee against yours—just needed to scoot closer after Kelce decided to manspread for no goddamn reason (though Rafe was pretty sure that grin Kelce shot him was confirmation he did that on purpose).

Fuckass.

Annoying as hell, but Kelce always knew how to be the best wingman when Rafe needed it (not that he needed it with you as he had no intention of using you for a hookup, okay!). Maybe that dumbass really was the closest thing Rafe had to a best friend (god, what were you doing to him, making him think in cringe-ass terms like that).

“…and when Ryan Gosling showed his abs I was like—” your friend babbled, stopping mid-sentence when her phone rang with the loudest, most annoying ringtone ever (some Nicki Minaj song). “Oh wait, Sarah’s calling.”

Fuck no. Absolutely not. Rafe already knew what she wanted.

“We’re literally at the bar,” Hall said, looking around. “Girl, you stupid? Yeah, wait, no—turn the other way. No, not—there. Pope spotted us.” She waved, then blinked at whatever Sarah said next, glancing at Rafe for a second. “Uh, yeah.” Then to him: “Can they come over or are you gonna kill them?”

Rafe’s whole body tensed at the idea of Sarah and her shitty pogue rats joining their table. Hell no. Now she wanted to infiltrate his friend group too? That was the last straw.

“I’m sure they’ll find another table,” he said dryly, earning a few blinks in return and a “Come on, dude” from Kelce.

Cara turned back to her call, babbling on, but Rafe’s focus shifted the moment you turned to him. His expression softened instantly when he saw your almost disappointed face.

You tilted your head slightly and said quietly, “They’re not as bad as you think.”

“What, you want them here?” Rafe scoffed, irritation bubbling. The way you were getting close with Sarah and her fuckass friends really didn’t sit right with him.

“I wouldn’t mind,” you replied softly, making Rafe frown while Hall continued loudly yapping in the background.

Oh hell no, he didn’t—

“But if I’m honest,” you continued, voice still quiet, a sheepish smile tugging at your lips, “I also wouldn’t mind if we dipped.”

Rafe blinked, twisting the fabric of your dress between his fingers. “You wanna leave?”

“No, I mean—yeah,” you said with an awkward chuckle. “This whole night’s been kinda a lot and I could use some desocializing.”

Oh. So you wanted to go home.

A sinking feeling spread in Rafe’s stomach almost instantly, disappointment settling deep in his bones. He didn’t want to leave. Or go home. Or say goodbye to you. Not yet.

The frown came naturally. “And how exactly do you plan on getting home? We all came with Topper’s—”

“No, no,” you cut in with a sheepish smile, shaking your head. “I don’t mean home-home. I actually thought we could, you know… I mean I liked our little drive-around last night. Thought maybe we could repeat that or something.”

So desocializing only meant ditching the annoying idiots—not him.

Ha.

Rafe grinned. “Same question. How you planning to get away from here? Unless you feel like stealing a car.”

That made your face light up, and something warm and electric bloomed in Rafe’s chest.

“There’s this app called Uber,” you said, laughing.

Rafe wrinkled his nose. “Oh fuck that, I don’t—”

“I think you can go ahead and call them over, Cara,” Kelce announced from Rafe’s right, making both of you snap your heads around. “Looks like these two are making space.”

Fucker had been eavesdropping.

Cara blinked, Molly giggled, and Topper gave you a raised brow. Then your friend’s face twisted into the biggest grin like she’d just won Miss America.

“Okii,” she chimed, turning back to her phone. “Come over, babes.”

Alright, that was enough. If Rafe had to sit through more of this bullshit—or see Sarah and her little pogue crew crowding into his space—he was gonna lose it.

So before he had to deal with his nosy-ass sister and her swamp rats, he nudged your shoulder with a quiet “Let’s go,” urging you to move.

Which, thankfully, you did, with an awkward chuckle and your bag slung over your shoulder. Rafe grabbed your jacket off the hook at the table and turned to the four grinning idiots now watching the two of you.

“Have fun,” Molly said first with a soft smile, shifting over to sit next to Kelce.

That idiot’s grin deepened as he threw an arm around her and waved. “Don’t go too crazy though.”

Shut the fuck up.

Topper only nodded with a “See you tomorrow,” while your friend hopped up to hug you goodbye like a buzzing hamster.

“Have fun, remember what JJ said yesterday, and love you,” she said as she pulled away, making Rafe wonder what the fuck that pogue rat had told you.

You just nodded, a little overwhelmed. “Uh-huh. Yeah. Love you too, C.” Then turned to the others. “You guys enjoy the rest of the night. See you at school.”

And before another round of cringe goodbyes could start, Rafe placed his hand on your lower back and nudged you toward the exit, turning around one last time. “Yeah, yeah. Hope you all have the time of your lives hanging out with fuckass swamp rats.”

“Hey, you better shut up,” your friend replied with the least intimidating glare Rafe had ever seen. “Or else we’ll be having a nice little chat about how to behave properly around women.”

Now Rafe got why her and Barry got along so well apparently. Throwing threats around like confetti.

Whatever.

He just grimaced at her, and finally, you started moving, clutching your bag and laughing under your breath.

Once you’d made it out of the venue, Rafe helped you into your jacket, even took your purse because despite what that loudmouthed boxer-friend had said, Rafe knew how to be a gentleman when he wanted to.

Hell, he even called the fuckass Uber himself, held the door open for you as you slipped inside, and tipped that old lady driving well enough that she could probably take three days off next week.

And when you’d arrived at your place, Rafe held the fucking door open for you again—of course—and even took charge of driving your dad’s shiny white Corvette (fucking hell of a beauty, by the way), because there was no way in hell he was gonna let you drive, especially not after you’d had a drink.

You did protest, since he’d done coke earlier (and half a beer), but that shit had already been processed by his system and Rafe could drive a car blindfolded if he wanted to.

“Okay, Leclerc,” you said with dry amusement as you handed him the keys. “But just know my dad’s gonna kill you if you put even the tiniest scratch on his car.”

Honestly, that did make Rafe’s nerves spark for a second, but more than that, it snapped him more sober. So, a win.

And as the two of you climbed into the car (after Rafe had held the door open for you again, obviously), he let out an excited chuckle as the Corvette’s engine rumbled through the garage, sounding almost as beautiful as your laugh.

“So,” he said with a crooked grin as he pulled out of the driveway, “where do you wanna go and desocialize?” (Rafe hadn't even known that fucking term existed)

Oh no. That cheeky smile of yours did not mean anything good.

“Kinda feeling like a McFlurry right now.”

Rafe almost cried out loud at the thought of having to steer your dad’s precious Corvette through the tiny-ass McDonald’s drive-thru.

But he wasn’t fucking whiny Topper, so he just forced a smile and said in a mockingly polite tone, “Sure. Whatever the lady desires.”

And the sweet laugh that escaped your lips after that made it almost worth the risk of scratching your dad’s goddamn Corvette in a shitty-ass McDonald's drive-thru.

EXTRA SCENE (18+ // MDNI) after this night, rafe has a solo session in his room, thinking of you

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K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->

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[todosdream]

stress relief | ony

15k wrds. strangers to friends? to lovers. slow burn. angst. plot with smut. fem black oc. see the moodboard.

warnings: MNDI! lots of profanity, usage of n word, pet names, mentions of weed; smut: unprotected sex (PLS BE SAFE), edging, a spank or two, naaasty talk, degradation? more like brat-taming, dacryphilia for two seconds, ony rightfully has a bbc, begging, ony’s a talker (duh), choking? really just a hand necklace, pussydrunk ony, lowkey d/s but not explicitly mentioned

additional #: oc needs to get laid fr. kt needs her headphones. becca needs a new job. author doesn’t box. shout out mrs. etta. ony is chalanting with a girl for the first time. (and he’s vibing with it.) oc really needs to get laid. oc is a bit bratty… sorry. ony needs to get off his ass. oc is actually very bratty, damn. oh hell, oc gets laid!

“girl, I’ma be real with you… you need some dick,” crystal’s best friend tells her through her screen. kt’s giving a look, an interesting mix of pity and annoyance. her knotless braids are framing her face, mocha skin radiant as always but lashes looking quite barren. “yeah, and you need a lash refill, ho,” crystal snorts. since she’s bringing up needs and shit. it’s unfortunately been a while since they’ve hung out, kt now visiting family in colorado for about a week.

being the type of friends they are, the both of them have no issue communicating through tiktoks and sending pictures of silly things. just yesterday kt sent a picture of herself holding up a peace sign with a joint between her lips. she stood next to a 'no smoking' sign, the ‘no’ smudged. she thought she was just so clever. crys in return sent a saved picture of an unimpressed squidward, a typical exchange between the two goofballs.

“yeah, okay, ho. I’m just saying. maybe you’d be a little nicer to me if you got some,” she rolls her eyes, giving yzma. her rescheduled lash appointment can’t come quick enough. “says the girl getting some every day and still being mean to me,” crys scoffs.

kt’s living with her boyfriend, expecting his title to change to fiance after feeling a certain anticipatory energy from the man. her time consists of working and chatting with friends, and being with and posting videos with her partner. crys, however, explores her free time in many ways. picking up hobbies that have about a 50% chance of sticking, trying different restaurants, teaching her dog funny tricks, and the occasional friend hangout. it’s friday night and she’s doing her own nails just for the hell of it. although the uninhibited girl’s words trigger an automatic negative response, crys knows why she’s speaking them. when the phone call ends, kt will turn over and cuddle up to her man, maybe ‘get her shit rocked’ as she likes to so delicately put it. crys, however, will be left with her dog, her empty home and bed, and whichever toy she vibes with for the night.

she likes being alone, it’s an accomplishment for her to feel confident and comfortable being single after wasting her time with people that don’t care, men that don’t even actually like her. but when it’s all said and done, people are meant for connection. of course platonic, family, community… but that pull? that yearning? it can’t be replicated, no matter how many times she rewatches bridgerton or insecure.

it’s been a while since she just let go with anyone other than those already close to her. the last time she let someone new in, he showed her exactly why ‘niggas ain’t shit’ is such a popular phrase. it was a situation that didn’t make any sense, and in retrospect, she cringes. the embarrassment, the useless attempts at communication, the settling… never again. however, that’s a part of her life that’s being fully neglected. no dates, no late night rendezvous, no flirting, no sex.

one word: cobwebs.

“why are you more worried about my coochie than I am, anyway?” crys jokes as she fixes her gel polish, deflecting the conversation. it’s not something she wants to discuss or harp on. that’s just life for her right now. she’s tired of people wasting her time, so she became unavailable. simple. plus, she knows kt’s nosy ass man is lying next to her and listening because that girl never wears her damn airpods. “you think that’s an insult? girl. that only makes you look bad, not me,” she sasses. crys hears a soft snicker in the background. “oh, fuck you,” the girl mumbles in response. “and will you please put headphones on the next time you decide to go talkin’ bout my coochie? cause I’ll happily tell all those stories about yours, pimp.”

“stories?” crys hears in the background of the call. “ain’t no way she just called you that. what the hell that mean, crystal?” the bestie purses her lips and squints at crys. she watches as the brown skinned girl tilts her head, making her curls flop to the side with a ‘gotcha’ look. “I know where you live, you know that, fo’head? have a good night with your vibrator, ho,” she speaks lowly. shuffles are heard as she drops the phone onto the duvet next to her. “she don’t mean that, pookie, she’s just all pent up.” kt’s middle finger is all that’s visible on the screen before the phone echos a tone a few times, indicating the end of the call. crys snorts in response and sits her phone to the side. she sighs, looking over her nails for any imperfections as her mind echoes her words.

she wouldn’t be opposed to a night in the sheets. it’d be nice to dust off the cobwebs. get some head, maybe get her shit rocked like she hasn’t had in a while. part of her wants the slow and sensual, romantic sex with someone special. the kind of sex that touches her soul, that you can feel on every level. the other part… well. that part stays right in the cage where it belongs. that part likes to drown in frisky pleasure even if the one giving it is a life source draining leech.

it’s normal to want pleasure, it’s human. but the thought of all the bullshit that comes with dealing with another human, let alone a man in this day and age is enough to make her reconsider taking that step. so like usual, she brushes the words off and refocuses on her spa day so that she can be at her best for the work week.

ᥫ᭡

despite her best efforts, the next week is particularly irritating. mercury must be doing her shit, maybe all the damn planets, because so many people have had wack ass attitudes and it’s rubbed crys wrong. terrible interactions with customers, coworkers called out and left her in a busy store with little help, and she broke a nail doing something very much so not in her job description. on top of that, the amount of random things outside of her control that have gone haywire is deeply irritating. her tv crapped out and decided to just stop working out of nowhere, her wifi is out for local renovations, and her trash can is missing.

again.

it’s a wonder she hasn’t either had some type of crash out or just cashed in her pto for a fucking break. instead, she decides to get dressed for the gym and puts on a purple workout set. if she wants to be cute and sweaty she damn well will be. she grabs her favorite gym shoes and her essentials. she leaves her curls alone for now, but takes a scrunchie to put it up later. when she gets to the gym at a completely different time than she’s used to, it’s practically empty, save for a young and obviously bored receptionist that’s glued to her phone and a middle aged woman power walking into her destiny.

seriously, crys will have some of what she’s having. the woman is on fire.

sighing to herself, the frazzled girl goes to scan her member qr code, only for the damn scanner to decide to stop working. the blonde receptionist behind the desk sighs as if doing her job is the last thing she wants to do. crys usually wouldn’t blame her for that, but the way she’s popping her gum has the curly headed girl imagining a modern re-enactment of that one scene from that madea movie. the receptionist seems to be in absolutely no rush to fix the scanner, completely oblivious to the metaphorical cloud over crys’ head that’s growing by the minute. she fights the urge to furrow her brows and take a week’s worth of irritation out on the worker, deciding to take a deep breath instead.

the brief look up that the girl gives in response has her immediately regretting her decision.

before she can even think of something to say, the door opens behind her. she’s in no mood to look at the person, figuring they’ll both be waiting in line. she doesn’t want to seem open to small talk because she’s just not. however, the receptionist— becca, her nametag reads— looks up like the sun just graced the sky for the first time in centuries. she stands up straighter, obviously trying to make herself look like she’s doing the job that she’s been failing at, and calls over crys’ shoulder. “hey, ony, technical difficulties. you’re free to go ahead you don’t have to wait, I can check you in once this is fixed,” she smiles. that lucky bastard. it’s the first smile on her face in the entire time the bristling girl has been there. crys swears if this was a cartoon scene, the blonde girl would be fluttering her lashes with hearts in her eyes.

there’s a deep chuckle from behind. “thanks, becca. they should give you a raise,” a low, raspy voice responds. crys’ eye twitches. the hell they should, she thinks. hand me the damn performance review form cause I got shit to say. becca, now looking as if she’s on cloud nine, waves him off dismissively. “just doing my job. leg day?” she questions, trying to sound as casual as possible and not like her drool is threatening to ruin the damn scanner beyond repair. “mhm,” the stranger hums. “nice kicks,” he mumbles.

crys is too busy zoning out and imagining herself tap dancing on the broken pieces of the scanner to realize that he’s talking to her. the way becca’s eyes shift gets her attention. “oh. uh, thanks,” she murmurs, looking up. all she sees is a muscular back walking towards the men’s locker room. she doesn’t have time to look him over because ms. becca decides she actually can do her job and calls out to her that the scanner is fixed.

it just needed to be plugged up again.

ain’t no fuckin’ way.

becca doesn’t even seem embarrassed. she’s holding the scanner lazily and looking around, probably for that ony guy. the blonde doesn’t realize that crys is holding her phone out, and she’s still popping that damn gum. instead of saying something to the girl like she really wants to, she grabs the scanner from the “worker” to check her damn self in and quickly heads to the locker room. the girl doesn’t deserve her week’s worth of anger.

after some time, she’s finally out on the floor to stretch out. soon after the warm up, she’s at the punching bag. it’s not her usual choice of workout, but she took classes when she was younger and knows it’s a great way to release all that irritation from the week in a more physical outlet.

crys quickly wraps her hands and soon she’s throwing punches and listening to rico nasty, an artist who has several tracks on her ‘temper tantrum’ playlist. she gets into her groove, trying to remember the important tips from the classes she attended years ago. it’s hard to recall all the basics, but she gives it her best shot. not too long after, she notices a shadow of someone’s frame behind her. it must be that lucky asshole from earlier, probably here to be a bother. or maybe becca decided to do her job and came to tell her to move her bag off the floor. she sighs, taking out her headphones and turning to look. it’s the stranger. the man’s arms are crossed as he watches, showing his sleeves of tattoos.

crys wishes she could say he was ugly, but he’s definitely not. he’s fine as fuck, actually. his skin is dark and healthy, making him look like he actually has a skincare routine and not just 100-in-one soap. he has an athletic build visible even through his clothes that makes her want to drool like dear old becca. he’s tall, maybe 6’4 or 6’5, so she has to look up at him, even being on the taller side herself. his black durag matches his all black workout fit and she wonders what exactly lies underneath considering the size of his arms.

his demeanor is calm and steady, confident in a way that’s quiet, as opposed to many other gym bros™. his face is calm and there’s barely any tension in his body. crys thinks she’d like to make him bothered, just to get a rise. see if he’ll hold ip or bite back. but no, that’s rude, and she doesn’t know this man at all. his eyes are looking at her intently, and she despises how beautiful they are. why do men get to have natural lashes that look like that? it’s not fair she has to get extensions when his are so long with an almost perfect curl. and the color of his eyes make it worse, the light brown contrasting his dark skin so prettily. and his lips? full, perfect for kissing, among other things.

lucky bastard.

“you gone bite my head off if I suggest how to fix your form?” he asks with a simple raise of his brow.

ᥫ᭡

ony’s a hardworking man. he likes to handle business but have some fun on the side too. he’s chill. everyone would describe him as that. he’s the levelheaded friend, usually the calm in a storm, and not one to be all over the place physically, mentally, or emotionally. he’s a steady beat and he likes it that way. life is peaceful and secure, challenging in certain ways, but calm in others. he has a good paying job as a personal trainer, proper work life balance, and a good head on his shoulders. he doesn’t do too much, honestly, but that doesn’t mean that his life doesn’t have some interesting twists and turns. his boys always seem to need rescuing in some form, sisters all a whirlwind of their own. his mom is always a source of entertainment, although his dad is much like himself. he likes his life, simple as that.

but things have been becoming monotonous lately. his clients aren’t having any interesting developments and his social life is steady but uninteresting overall. his family group chat is going through a quiet spell and his boys are actually not up to anything stupid like they somehow always are. he’s been particularly unfulfilled by the game and there’s no sport he wants to keep up with as of late. it’s all kind of… blah. he’s grateful that nothing’s going wrong. he could be having a bad week as opposed to a boring one, but he aches for a spark, something different to bring a bit more color to his life. maybe he should get a pet? maybe some little fish couldn’t hurt. he thinks over the new idea while he follows his usual routine to pack up and leave for the gym.

and then he sees crys.

he notices her form as she stands at the check in desk, interest piqued. he’s never seen her before, and he comes to this gym at least five nights a week. he knows names and faces, especially since there’s usually no more than five people when he comes. her figure catches and keeps his eye, his gaze taking in the woman’s long legs, thick thighs, and plump ass, seeing how her afro falls around her shoulders. his excuse for where his gaze is centered is that it’s all he can see from where he’s standing, but it’s not much of an excuse. she’s just fine as hell. her workout fit is cute and colorful, contrasting his dark and bland one. her hand is in on her hip that’s popped out, accentuating her form.

his interest is definitely piqued.

he gets to see more of her when he comes around to speak to becca. pretty almond eyes, soft looking lips, the bottom currently being chewed with vigor. she’s beautiful… but one look at her profile and the flames in her eyes tell him all he needs to know: look the other way. ony grew up surrounded by strong black women in his life, his mom, sisters, aunts, cousins… learning to read body language and— well, the room, was something he learned quickly and he’s applied that lesson everywhere in life. everything about her body language and that cute, barely contained frown screams bad day. so he greets becca— who’s really a sweet girl, just unbothered— compliments her shoes, and moves on about his routine.

it’s like clockwork. he puts his stuff away, makes sure his chain is safe and secure, fills his water bottle, waves at mrs. etta on the treadmill, stretches, locks in, and gets the workout started.

he’s getting into his mode and enveloping himself in the feel of the workout, but he can’t help the way his eyes are pulled back to crys. the way she stretches, the way she adorably bobs her head to the seemingly… aggressive? music. she’s gorgeous and new, which has him feeling like every routine move he makes is just a little different. her and her angry pout and her curves and her curls…

she approachs a punching bag, which ony can admit he didn’t expect. the outfit convinced him she’d be power walking with mrs. etta, or doing pilates in the corner. his mom always told him what assuming does to someone, though. he looks away as he tries to focus on anything other than her. he counts his reps like usual, trying to submerge himself in his music. it doesn’t work. as soon as she takes her first swing, his eyes are back on her, taking notice of how she punches.

hm.

he can see she knows a bit more than someone just randomly choosing to throw a few hits, but he isn’t fond of some of the habits she has that could actually hurt in the long run. he debates approaching, but he’s always been one to help others in the gym. attitude be damned, he’s a personal trainer. he knows the importance of doing things correctly. after watching for a while, he decides to walk over. he knows that if she doesn’t fix her punch, she’ll be angry all over again tomorrow because of sore wrists. she turns, obviously annoyed, but he’s not scared. she looks him up and down, her facial expression barely shifting. he wonders what she’s thinking, wants to hear her voice. when she finally looks up at him with those eyes, he almost tilts his head.

how can someone be so fuckin’ pretty?

she’s a vision with her bare face. eyes he could get lost in, features he wants to admire for moments on end. he would actually guess that she’s quite sweet behind the haze of her frustration. obviously a multifaceted person, and he’s interested in the idea of learning all those facets. who she is, maybe what she likes, what she doesn’t like. maybe even what makes her happy, what would put a smile on the adorably scrunched up face. for some reason, he wants to see that happy expression. actually, as a matter of fact, he wants to see all her expressions. smiling, confused, relaxed, aroused. she’s caught him with a simple gaze and he’s confused about it.

“you actually know what you’re doing?” she asks. it’s not meant to be a jab, truthfully. she’s been hit on by guys that try to “help” just to flirt, but ultimately make a fool of themselves— and her for giving them the opportunity. she doesn’t have the patience for it today, it in fact might be the straw that breaks her back. she can see amusement tickle at his expression, but no signs of him being offended.

because he’s not. he can tell she isn’t asking in a facetious way, she just seems… tired. like she doesn’t want her time wasted. he can respect that. “I promise you, I do,” he says with a slight smile. just a little one, unable to contain his utter enjoyment in her sass, and still having that almost sickening feeling of attraction.

crys hums, her gaze sweeping over him again briefly, taking in his calm but confident demeanor. the little smile on his face is lowkey pissing her off, but she has enough sense to know it’s because she has a lot of stress to work out. he’s fine as hell and now’s really not the time for all that. even still, he’s bold to come over with the metaphorical storm still rolling above her head. bold… or stupid. who walks towards a burning house? but she knows if he could tell her form was off from so far, she could really be messing herself up with how she’s going at the punching bag. she wants to just kick and punch it randomly, similar to what her ‘temper tantrum’ playlist suggests, but she knows that’s no good. and again, he’s fine as hell.

all the same, she’s still irritated and frustration-filled. “sure, yeah,” she mumbles as she turns back to the bag.

ony’s quite intrigued, interestingly enough. he knows a person close to the brink when he sees one. he can see the irritation in her eyes and in the way her shoulders are set. her movements are stiff and her brows are still pinched, gorgeous even with the possibly dangerous amount of upset toiling in her. despite her tense demeanor, he can tell she’s still at least trying to be respectful. and he appreciates it.

“what’s your name?” he asks, shifting to stand next to her. she’s staring at the bag, itching to just punch. “crys,” she answers, sparing him a glance as she fixes the wrapping on her hands. she’s pulling it tight, her movements swift. she can feel him watching her intently and she doesn’t know how she feels about it.

he nods. “ony. I’m no expert but I can share a few tips to keep you from gettin’ hurt. mind if I touch you?” he asks, the question second nature from dealing with his clients. he knows better than to start without given permission, and he definitely knows he doesn’t want to be on the receiving end of her irritation. “s’fine,” she answers, ignoring the very inappropriate response that her brain comes up with. not now, brain. nasty ass. she really just wants him to hurry up so she can go back to punching, but she supposes she can hold back for a few more minutes if it’s him that’s going to touch her. plus it’s important to do it right, and even through her upset she knows that and is grateful for his help. if he could just be a little faster, though, that’d be wonderful.

he approaches, gently taking her hand in his as he unwraps her binding. “it’s a good wrap, but they shouldn’t be too tight. you gone hurt yourself that way,” he mumbles. his hands move slowly, demonstrating to her as he explains. it’s not in the show off-y way she expected, but direct and intentional instead. she’s glad he’s helping but a part of her is focused a bit too much on how his hands feel, how calming his voice is. “you should be able to spread your fingers. this’ll save your wrists and then some, yeah?” he murmurs, gently tapping her hand. still upset, she hates how soothing the contact is. she doesn’t need soothing, she needs violence.

that… might be dramatic. she knows it. but the week’s frustrations have all built to this moment and she plans to take full advantage of the punching bag in front of her. if he doesn’t pick up the pace, he might just take its place, handsome or not. “gotcha,” she mutters. “can I hit the bag now?” ony chuckles, and she’s mad that she really likes the sound. “sure. do a couple jabs.”

she takes a deep breath, her focus zoning on the bag. his presence fades slightly as she begins going at it, a bit overzealous. he lets her take a few punches, seeing how she obviously needs it. his gaze sweeps her form, watching her hips swivel slightly as she swings. her hits start with a decently healthy form, but the more she gets into it, ony can tell her focus is slipping. “okay, hold,” he murmurs. she doesn’t hear him and continues punching. her breathing is picking up and the cute scrunch between her brows is deepening. “hold,” he says louder, getting her attention. she huffs and raises out of her stance, blowing a stray out of her face. she steps forward and holds the bag to stop its movements, looking over at him.

ony could almost laugh at the way the curl flops right back into place. swears he could almost see her eyebrow twitch. damn, who pissed her off? “you got some good habits and some bad habits,” he mumbles, standing parallel to her now. “need to swing your hips more, not push through your arm. pop the bag, don’t push your punch.” he moves slowly as he speaks, demonstrating his words with his movements. it’s easy to follow, but his muscles are stealing the show, to crys’ dismay. “I was doing that,” she mumbles in response because she indeed was. “mhm, at the beginning. the more you put in, the less you focus on your form,” he says as he returns to his earlier position, arms crossed. “go again,” he nods. “bossy,” she mumbles. she likes it. he’s giving proper tips and doesn’t really care about her attitude, seeming unaffected.

ony chuckles, seemingly knowing there’s no actual anger in her tone, at least not completely directed at him. crys supposes he’s right. when she gets in the flow, her mind focuses less on her form and more on the happenings of the week. she definitely could’ve weakened her stance, and his words bring memories of her previous instructor. he might not be an expert, but he knows what he’s saying for sure. she gets back into her stance and takes a few more hits, more focused on her form this time around. she can’t quite lose herself to the exercise with the newfound focus, and she doesn’t like it. “better,” ony calls out. “keep goin’.” so she does. she follows his instructions to a t, feeling a bit more comfortable with the continued form as she practices.

“nice, real nice,” he murmurs, shifting to hold the bag from behind. he notices the hesitation in her movements as she focuses on her form. “come on,” his deep voice encourages. “where that fire go, huh? tellin’ me you can’t fight and focus?” crys, probably feeling goaded, looks up to him for a moment. ony could laugh again at the look in her eyes, but he doesn’t. “don’t look at me, look at the bag. you mad, I know it. let it out,” he nods his head to the bag in his hands. he doesn’t have to tell her twice. she starts to hit with more vigor, putting more into her punches. “mhm, yeah. control that shit, stay tight. swivel your— there you go, exactly,” he encourages. she’s picking it up, movements smoother and becoming more confident by the minute.

shit’s sexy as fuck.

crys is actually starting to fuck with him more, feeling herself in the workout. the way he’s talking is having an affect on her, and she knows she’ll be thinking back on this very moment tonight. his voice is deep, and slightly raspy as she keeps at it, and the encouraging makes her wonder if he’s like that in… different circumstances. she can feel her breath picking up for several reasons. “had you mad as fuck, huh? had you fucked up?” ony questions, pushing her a bit more. “let that shit out, ma. ain’t doin’ you no good to hold it in.” they both know that he’s telling the truth. she was just about bursting at the seams and his encouragement is helping her tap back into that. she punches harder, small grunts falling from her lips. the week’s frustrations are pouring out of her now and she’s pushing herself so that she can get him out of her head.

the way he’s talking to her in her amped up state just shouldn’t be legal. she’s pretty sure he’s the type to talk his girl through it, probably tease and taunt to get a reaction. damn, she needs to get laid. “form,” he reminds as her focus slips. she gives a quick nod, readjusting herself quickly before taking another shot. ony likes how quickly she responds to his guidance. “hell yeah, you got that shit. keep goin’, mama. ain’t nobody fuckin’ with you, that’s for damn sure.”

damn his fine ass with his deep voice and his face and his pet name.

she keeps going until every ounce of upset is drained, listening to his encouragement and occasional shit talking at a particularly weak punch or slip of focus. she’ll be honest, she feels good. great, actually. she feels as if she actually knows what she’s doing, confident in her moves. the upset has trickled away, but its absence is leaving too much space to think about the man in front of her. his fine ass is pushing her in the way she likes and needs, encouraging but taunting just the way she likes it.

after several more minutes, she steps back, panting. “killed that shit,’ ony mumbles, double tapping the bag. she really did, the difference between her earlier attempts and now is stark. and all because of just a few pointers. he watches as she catches her breath and unwraps her hands. “you done?” he questions. he wasn’t expecting her to finish so soon, she was just getting in her groove. he was honestly expecting a few more rounds.

“yeah,” crys answers as she nods. “thanks for your help, really. just needed to blow off some steam.” feeling better now, she decides that she should finish out with her regular workout. the less angry she is, the more she focuses on that damn smirk on his face, the way his muscles move with each shift of his body, the birthmark she’s spotted on his jaw. she’s trying hard to resist the pull she feels as she catches her breath. she gets another chuckle from ony. “could tell. I almost didn’t even come over. bad day?”

crys gives a sheepish smile, sliding her wrap in her bag. ony likes the smile a lot, but he wants more. “my bad. bad week, actually,” the woman responds. ony shakes his head, uncrossing his arms. “no harm, I get it,” he responds. and he really does, most of the time people’s attitudes really have nothing to do with you. “you should keep at it though, you got good form. at least when you’re focused. with some more practice, you could easily make it muscle memory.” and I’d like to see you more, he thinks. crys smiles and nods. “think I will. thanks again for your help, woulda been pissed if I hurt myself.”

ony’s eyes trail over her features. with the metaphorical cloud gone, she’s shining brighter. her smile is gorgeous, revealing a small gap in her teeth and a crinkle by her eyes. yeah. fuckin’ beautiful. “course. can’t have you gettin’ mad again, yeah?” he laughs, the sound deep as it rumbles from his chest. crys playfully rolls her eyes. “whatever, ony. actin’ like I’m godzilla or something. you can gone back to your workout.”

the two separate, continuing their sessions. but their eyes continuously meet as they sneak glances at each other and they exchange flirty quips. crys questions the amount of weight ony chooses for his sets, teasing that she’d thought he’d lift more. ony calls her out for a weak rep, telling her she should start over for half-assing. they just can’t seem to get enough of each other, teasing and poking at one another like crushing kids in school.

crys is definitely eating their interactions up. he’s fun in a way that isn’t childish, regardless of how he makes her almost giddy like a teenage girl. he’s not afraid to go along with a joke, but it’s obvious he’s not one to be messed with. no matter how many shots she takes, no matter how much she teases, he never breaks a sweat. it’s almost as if he’s welcoming the challenge and crys is more than willing to indulge.

ony likes her fire. it’s invigorating and it keeps him on his toes. he’s used to women being like becca— fawning, overly sweet, and obviously interested. the push and tug he gets from crys is different, and he’s enjoying every interaction, every tease, every glance at that ass. she just draws him in and he can’t get enough. where the hell has she been and why are they just now meeting? he could’ve shown her a lot more than boxing tips by now.

for her cool down, crys decides that since the gym is pretty much empty, she can take some extra time to do some yoga and meditation. she zones in and takes a plethora of deep breaths, regulating her nervous system and releasing tension. grounding herself in the present moment and releasing stress, anxiety, and frustration. it definitely helps as a follow up to the punching bag. she’s always appreciated how centered she feels after even just a few minutes of reconnecting with herself, tending to her mind, heart, and soul and not just her body. she should definitely do yoga often to stay balanced, but shoulda woulda coulda.

the second she starts to stretch, ony’s eyes are stuck on her like glue. she stretches for a long time, he notices. it seems like some type of meditation, the way she holds her hands together and closes her eyes, highly focused as she takes deep breaths almost audible where he stands. it’s interesting how he can notice the shift she makes from her earlier demeanor. she’s much calmer, locked in in a way unexpected to him. of course he knows how to calm himself, how to regulate. but those stretches… not only is he sure he could never replicate them due to lack of flexibility, but he can see the intention in each move, seemingly in each muscle and breath.

it’s weird to him how pulled he feels in her direction. he just wants to know her and is curious if she’d give him the chance. and of course he wants to know her body too… he could definitely help her relieve a lot of that stress. over and over again. probably until she couldn’t take anymore. something about her just keeps pulling him back in. maybe he’s just interested in her newness with his life currently feeling a bit more dull, but he knows he’d be just as interested if it wasn’t. she has spice, a good sense of humor, sweetness, she’s undoubtedly beautiful with all her little quirks, and that ass is the kind that a man would go to war for.

seriously.

especially with the way she’s sitting and stretching with her legs wide, chest flush against the floor. it’s making ony have thoughts, and a lot of them. after a while of being unable to stop looking, he decides to walk over. he stands above her with his arms crossed, head tilting as he looks down at her. “how the hell you even doin’ allat?” he murmurs quietly, almost to himself. and what else can she do? he wonders.

crys laughs in response, still enjoying the feel of the stretch. “I do it often. years of youtube videos, I guess,” she responds. she raises, intentionally moving slow for the practice. it’s just a bonus that she can feel his eyes on her ass. “sit down,” she grins, looking up at him with mischief in her eyes. he had his turn helping her, and now she’s going to do the same. whether he likes it or not. plus, it’d be real nice to spend some more time with him. she likes his presence and his laugh and his little jokes. his looks, his demeanor, the way he’s not scared when she nips at him instead either remains unaffected or nips right back… kind of everything about him, so far at least. “huh?” he asks, eyebrows raising. “nigga, if you can ‘huh’ you can hear. sit down and stretch with me,” she laughs.

ony likes the sound. a lot, he realizes. and her sass really tickles him. so why not? he shrugs, plopping down on the floor next to her.

“yoga’s more than stretchin’,” she begins. “yeah, it feels good for the body, but it’s good for the mind too. it’s a lot deeper than I can explain. it’s one of those things that’s been taken from another culture and kinda wiped of its authenticity.” he watches her as she talks with her hands, her caring a lot more about it than he expected. but he’s interested and following along with her words. “I try to respect it, y’know? it has a lot of benefits. can I touch?” she asks with a tilt of her head. he appreciates how her curls bounce with the movement and gives a simple nod of his head. “sit up straight,” she adjusts his back. “and keep your focus on your breath, keeping an awareness of your body as well. stay mindful of the present moment.”

the moment her hand touches him, he sits up. not because of her words but because of the feel of her hands on him. she’s gentle with her guidance, her touch almost hesitant and her voice has softened in a way that sends a slight chill down his spine. “sorry, are my hands cold?” she asks apologetically. “as fuck,” he answers with a laugh. “keep goin’ though.” crys laughs and pinches him softly. “aht, aht, I’m the teacher now, I give the directions. straighten out your legs.” ony rolls his eyes in response but follows her instruction. he mumbles a soft “yeah, aight.”

she gently bumps her shoulder against his at his sass. “lean forward and reach for your feet, curving your back. take a moment to center yourself, focusing on your breath and how your body feels. don’t think about anything, not even me,” she teases slightly. ony can’t help but smile at that. “you make it difficult, sweetheart,” he mumbles. her stomach flutters in response. he takes a deep breath before closing his eyes, reaching for his feet. “don’t forget to breath, nice and deep. relax your mind and let your thoughts fade away,” she mutters softly. “relax. really feel the peace and the stretch.”

oh, ony feels something, alright. but he focuses his mind on the way his muscles feel. he’s used to stretching, but the mental part has never been the most important aspect. he likes how quiet his mind is, how the peace envelopes him like a warm hug.

she guides him through several more positions, helping him to stay centered mentally. her voice is so soothing, her touch as she adjusts him doing things to him. he feels good. really good. the combination of the practice with her presence is something he intends to make sure he gets more of. she’s so cute with her little chides. a “stretch deeper, ony” here, a “you’re not even trying” there. and her obvious favorite, “you know you can do better than that”. actually, no, her favorite thing to say in reprimand is his name. it’s a pleasant hint of flirting and teasing mixed with gentle guidance and words of calm.

by the end of the night, ony’s hooked. before she can walk to the locker room, he gently grabs her wrist to get her attention. “hey, wait, ma,” he murmurs softly. she looks up at him with those eyes again and he’s suddenly parched. “can I get your number? you know, I can send you some boxing tips.” crys tries to fight a smile but fails. “oh, really? boxing tips? sure, long as I can send some yoga tips.” he laughs a bit, smiling at her tone. “yeah, send ‘em. gotta be on my namaste more, shit was nice.” crys tilts her head back slightly as she laughs. “boy, whatever. here.”

ᥫ᭡

crys is folding. real bad.

at first, she thought she’d just do some light flirting, maybe just tease and taunt and go on about her merry way. she didn’t have any intentions on really following through with the man because he just seems like a threat to her safe, protected little bubble of diy nails and chilling alone at home. but as time goes on, she realizes that she’s in a quicksand situation. swapped informational videos of boxing and yoga are just the beginning. soon, they’re texting back and forth. funny videos sent at way too late at night, a range of questions exchanged as they get to know each other, random voice messages that make her stomach tingle… she looks forward to speaking with him, even changes his text tone so she knows when it’s him.

he’s just so funny in such a simple, straightforward way. sometimes she bites at him and he doesn’t budge a bit, not giving her the satisfaction of a reaction. sometimes they go back and forth like a tennis match. he’s not afraid of her sass and she loves when he actually bites back. he’s just… attractive. in a lot of ways, on so many different levels. she ends up going to the gym late more often because he’ll be there, spotting her while she lifts and helping her with her boxing. ms. becca at the front desk seems to really not like it, but her non-working ass can move on somewhere. crys and ony start a routine that whenever she comes to work out with him, they grab food and sit in one of their cars to goof around. they even decide to power walk with mrs. etta every now and then.

it’s insanity to kt, though. she doesn’t understand why they haven’t ‘fucked each other like bunnies’ already and she reminds crys every time they talk. they’d scrolled his instagram together several times and he’s a popular topic between the two of them, three including kt’s boyfriend. he, of course, has a front row seat to these conversations since ms. kt never wants to use her damn headphones.

one particular night, crys is just really not feeling the workout. she’s more tired than usual and ony can tell. she’s not her usual, witty self. not a single jab has any bite to it, and it’s the same with her words. he doesn’t like it. she’s not supposed to be quiet or sad. he doesn’t like the distant look in her eyes and how she gives a weak smile at his teasing. “hey,” he murmurs. “go get changed and get your stuff.” he watches as she looks up at him with a furrowed brow. “you’re obviously not feelin’ up to it. we’ve done enough, let’s grab sum to eat.”

crys was going to push through, get her workout regardless. “nah, I’m good,” she shrugs him off. “no, you ain’t. quit playin’, it’s not a suggestion,” he grumbles back. that surprises her, but she guesses it shouldn’t really. one thing that she’s noticed is how good he is at reading people, and he’s really good at reading her now. he knows when to push, and has learned how to in several different circumstances. she guesses this is one of them. his tone is different than usual though. it’s set, no room for negotiations, no joking around. his eyes are focused and sharp in a way that almost even she doesn’t want to argue with. “…right. yeah, okay. I can go by myself though, you can finish your workout,” she mutters softly.

“what I say?”

crys didn’t need to be told again. his whole demeanor is looking more immovable than ever, eyes and tone telling her to get her ass to the locker room, basically. if it were anyone else, she would’ve fired back and asked who the hell he thought he was. but at this point, she’s too tired and she really doesn’t want to poke the bear. so she sighs and nods, grabbing her bag as she shuffles back to the locker room to get her stuff. she’s grateful, honestly, because as soon as she sits in the passenger seat of his car, she feels like she’s been hit by a bus but it’s really just a wave of exhaustion.

“you pushin’ too hard, ma,” he murmurs, his eyes on the road as he drives. he’s seen her energy decreasing over time, the spark in her eyes dimming. he’d slide a comment in or two about taking a break only for her to brush it off like it was no problem. she’s stubborn and he knows that, but fully capable of taking care of herself, which is why he wasn’t expecting it to get this far. she’s drained and he’ll be damned if he just stands by and watches her continue down this path. especially with the way her head is leaning against his window. usually he’d say something about her hair products getting on it, but he couldn’t give a damn about that.

“you been slackin’ and you know it. wassup?” he questions as he spares her a glance. she sighs, her eyes closing as he makes the familiar trip to their usual spot. “stress. I’ve just been stressed,” she answers. that much he could tell. it’s not really the information he’s looking for though. “mhm. why?” he presses. his voice is a mix of tenderness and concern but also firmness. he’s not going to let her brush this under the rug. “just a lot of shit goin’ on, ony. work’s a mess, they can barely do anything without me there they’re always arguing and never getting anything done. I’ve been looking for another job for months with no luck and it’s really starting to become a problem because I want to leave soon. and I don’t know, I just want to be in a different situation than I am right now.”

ony hums, rolling her words over in his head. he knows she’s been trying to leave her job, even sent her resume out to a few people he knows just to help out. he can understand her frustration, he was in a similar boat before he started his own thing and became a personal trainer. he gets it, the stress from working in a place that drains you and how so many job rejections can affect a person. “it’s alright, ma. I know that don’t mean much to you right now, but it’s gone work out, aight? I’ll put some pressure on my folks, help see what’s out there. you still got some pto right?” he asks. she sighs, rubbing her forehead. “yeah, but I’ve been saving it for a rainy day.” he could almost chuckle.

“it don’t seem like it’s rainin’ to you?” he pushes slightly. “take some time off. rest and relax so you can come back better. do yo yoga and shit, smoke some, whatever. you need a break, babygirl. no positive change is gonna come from you stressin’ and burnin’ out. it’s a three day weekend coming up, take the couple days before that off too.” she looks out the window as they pull into the drive thru. he’s right and she knows it. it’s just so easy for her to get swept up into the stress and lose herself a little bit more and more until she realizes just how close she is to burning out. she can feel tears gathering in her eyes from the stress.

“oh, pretty girl,” he mumbles, seeing the emotion in her eyes. he pulls off to the side and parks in the back of the lot instead of getting in line. “c’mere, crystal,” he croons, reaching an arm around her to pull her close. she sniffles and her shoulders shake as she cries into his shoulder, letting out what she’s let build up for so long. “s’okay, ma. you really doin’ good shit, providin’ for yourself and workin’ hard. it’s gonna work out, you gotta believe that,” he presses, squeezing her tighter. “but you can’t do this, okay? you can’t wither away like this. your health is important and if you neglect it, it’ll affect everything. I don’t like seein’ you upset and tired and drained. wanna see that pretty smile, get a taste of that sass that irks me so much.” she laughs slightly in his arms, her own wrapping around him as he gives her the most comforting hug she’s had in a while. “you’re right or whatever. big headed ass,” she mumbles.

“there she is.”

ᥫ᭡

after that night, she did exactly what he suggested. she took those extra days off and just recovered. smoked, slept a whole bunch, had a self-care day, and even booked a massage just for an extra treat. of course she talked ony’s ear off, and texted him and her best friend a bunch too, but it was necessary in her eyes. she knows they love her presence, even if they call her annoying. by her last day off, she feels rejuvenated.

she feels less stressed. she has a revamped resume, a mini twist out that’s cute and lets her leave her hair alone, new nails, and a new attitude. but… crys is running out of excuses to give as far as her and ony. his support that night meant more to her than he probably even knew. the way he held her, calmed her down, and comforted her… it’s something that’s been plaguing dancing in her mind. he’s shown that he can handle her full range of emotions no problem and can support her regardless of how strongly she feels. at this point, even she’s started to wonder why they haven’t done anything. she hasn’t made a move, no, but neither has he. he seems perfectly content with the way things are and is starting to become bothersome.

she can’t get him out of her head. his voice, his laugh, his features. every time he encourages her while she’s going at the punching bag, she wants to push the damn thing out of the way and just tackle him. when she can feel his eyes on her while they stretch, she wants to show him exactly what she can do and how her flexibility can blow his fucking mind. she wants to kiss him, touch him, hear those encouraging words that he gives her in an entirely different setting.

but his lack of action is causing her to overthink. is he not as affected as she is? does his heart not pound in her presence like hers does in his? how the hell is she the only one gnawing her lip at the thought of more? maybe it’s because she hasn’t had sex in so long. maybe that’s it. she’s just like this because of her wack ass sex life.

contrary to crys’ perspective, though, ony is losing his shit.

he definitely would’ve made a move by now if these were usual circumstances. he’s just so thrown off by how much he likes her, how much she makes him feel. she’s so much more than that pretty face and that mouth watering body. she’s funny, witty, and she packs a nasty ass punch both with her words and her hands. he likes the full range of crys. mouthy and annoying, intentionally trying to get a raise out of him. flirty and teasing, sensual in the way she draws him in. sweet and serene, almost like an oasis of calm and tranquility. oh, and he can’t forget how expressive she is with every emotion. her anger when her order’s wrong at the late night burger place they frequent, her excitement and joy when mrs. etta tells her about another good scan at the doctor, her sadness when she sees a sad tiktok during rest periods.

he just doesn’t get it. how can one person be so damn enthralling? how can someone’s quirks and flaws be so beautiful? he’s never felt pulled like this, but you know what? he’s fucking with it. she’s done nothing but add color to his life, a great addition that he felt like he was waiting for without even knowing. he loves her presence. she makes him smile and belly laugh, she pisses him off, she lights him up. he can be goofy with her, serious, sensitive even. he just wants more and more of crys, and even when he thinks maybe there’s nothing left to surprise him about her, she whips something new out of her arsenal. it’s just crazy how she has him by the throat but he’s happy to be along for the ride.

but he’s really wanting that ride to go somewhere. he’s always thought that it was crazy that crys is single, he just doesn’t understand it. in his eyes, she’s everything great in a woman. confident, sensitive, hardworking, sweet… annoying but in the best ways, enthralling, sexy as all hell.

when he’s ranting to eren about her for the nth time, the brunette raises an eyebrow at him and asks what’s taking him so long to ask her out. ony blinks. he thought they were… well, something already. but the sense that’s been chasing him for quite a while now finally catches up to him and hits him like a truck. he has to say something. do something. the unspoken thing doesn’t work for adults, and definitely not if he actually wants to keep her. is he an idiot? he wants to say no to his own question so badly, but he knows he would be delusional if he did.

so he quickly decides to get his shit together. the next time he sees crys, he’s asking her on an actual date, and that’s it. this whole thing could’ve been at a different point if he’d taken his head out of his ass and asked her out that first night he saw her in the gym. but it’s too late to try to change the past, and he can fix his mistakes in the present.

ᥫ᭡

unfortunately for ony, crys has a nasty attitude the next time they meet. her answers are short and snippy, and not in the usual, fun way. they had plans to go shopping together to buy mrs. etta a congratulatory something for completing her treatment, both having become extremely fond of the lady and being supportive of her on her journey. ony picks her up, being the gentleman he is (he hates her driving) and it takes no time at all to notice the bitter air around her. he actually realizes it the second she closes the door to her townhouse too damn hard. she huffs and puffs as she gets settled in the passenger seat.

crys doesn’t really know exactly why she’s so mad. it’s another one of those days where the stress has built up so quickly without her noticing, something that happens when her head isn’t fully in the game. she doesn’t want to take it out on ony, never means to, but something about knowing that he can handle that shit keeps her from being as mindful as she should be. “hey,” he speaks, his eyebrow raising at her lack of greeting. “hey,” she greets blandly. “what’s wrong, ma?” he asks, looking from her to the road as he pulls off. she just shakes her head. “thanks for picking me up,” she murmurs. “of course,” he responds.

he’s eyeing her every once in a while, trying to pick up on whatever he can. she’s fiddling a lot, tapping her fingers as she looks out the window. antsy? irritated? what is it, he wonders. but he’s not super fond of playing the guessing game, by now she should know that she can talk to him about any and everything on her mind and in her heart. he’ll listen, he’ll care, and he’ll support. hasn’t he shown that? “you lyin’ to me, ma. don’t like it,” he mumbles. she doesn’t answer and he really doesn’t like that. “what’s the issue, crys? talk,” he presses, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. this isn’t anything he’s used to from her. mouthy sometimes? sure. that’s nothing he can’t handle. but the silent treatment mixed with the tense attitude is not how he was planning to spend this time with her.

“nothin’, just tired.” she murmurs. his eyebrows furrow. “we can reschedule if you want,” he responds, understanding. “nah,” she says simply. she can’t explain it, she doesn’t really want to act like this. she’s just not exactly happy at the moment and the two seem to have very different vibes. guess that’s the theme, huh? she thinks. “mama, you not bein’ fair. tryna talk to you,” he mumbles. she rolls her eyes, looking out the window. “yeah, talk. your favorite thing to do,” she mumbles.

ony pauses, but only for a moment. “and that’s supposed to mean?” crys sighs, as if she’s really just over him. “nothing, ony, m’sorry. are we goin’ to macy’s or ross first?” she’s trying to deflect, and although ony’s not stupid, he lets her. maybe she just needs time, she can be like that every now and then. carrying around irritation from an earlier incident until it eventually fades and she’s good to go. sometimes she just needs to process her emotions, and ony’s cool with that. he’s cool with anything with her, it seems.

they end up at ross first, mrs. etta’s favorite store that she talks about when they power walk with her. they get her random things, little trinkets that remind them of her, lotions and candles, and a few decorative pieces for her house. they move to macy’s to get her a perfume she likes, and a few other random things that draw their attention. last is dollar.25 tree and a couple other craft stores, the mission being to grab a big basket and additional stuffing to make her a custom gift basket with a congratulatory card from both of them. crys is quieter than usual the entire time, but not necessarily agitated. it seems like shopping for mrs. etta is cheering her up.

seems.

once they get to her house, ony can tell by the way she groans as she flops onto her couch that she’s not a hundred percent. at this point, he’s confused and maybe a bit worried. what is it that has her so upset? he doesn’t like when she’s quiet, much rather her be loud and expressive with whatever emotion she’s feeling. it’s eerie when she’s quiet and ony can’t tell what she’s thinking or feeling. he doesn’t like to be in the dark.

“c’mon, ma, let’s go ahead and get this assembled. we can talk and smoke after,” he mumbles, moving to set the stuff down on her dining room table. he wants to sit and smoke, get her to shake herself out of whatever fucking funk she’s in, but he figures it’s a good idea to finish up mrs. etta’s gift. he really wants it to be perfect. he’s known mrs. etta for a while, she was even one of the people that encouraged him the most when he first started training, and he’s extremely happy that her treatment is done. a bratty sigh is heard from the girl on the couch and ony has to close his eyes to center himself. “we can’t take a break? all that shopping. m’tired.”

ony licks his lips and lets out a breath. “sure, ma, take a break. imma get started on this, I’ll chill after,” he responds. crys doesn’t like the little breath he takes, his tone coming across patronizing to her. “you tired of me? cause I can really do that shit by myself,” she responds lowly. she swears she can see a vein appear on ony’s forehead, but only momentarily. “nah. just want this gift to be good,” he mumbles. crys sits up to look at him. “it’s good already, we put a lot of thought into everything. what, you think I can’t assemble it myself?” her head tilts. because she could make the prettiest damn basket all on her own, really. she’ll prove it if she has to.

ony’s on the brink. he’s been patient all day— he’s always patient with her. it’s usually no issue, but today she’s really pushing it. mrs. etta should be the focus right now. “you don’t hear me talkin’ to you?” she asks, her eyebrows beginning to furrow. “yes, love, I hear you,” he murmurs. “just focused.” he’s really trying to keep it together.

crys scoffs, “yeah, well, you can focus and talk. you wouldn’t have to focus as much if you waited on me.” ony wonders what he did to be in this position. he hasn’t done shit to her, hasn’t said anything disrespectful, and he knows that she isn’t usually one to take her shit out on him, so he’s just thinking. wondering what has her so mad. “there you go again, not fuckin’ responding,” she huffs, standing up and crossing her arms. “you can just get the hell out forreal, I can finish this mysel—“

“sit the fuck down.”

crys blinks. and then blinks again. “excuse me?” she asks. she couldn’t have heard that right. he wouldn’t talk to her like that, he’s not insane. but the look he gives when he turns to her gives her second thoughts on that theory. “you heard me. sit the fuck down. I’m not leavin’ and you’re about to act like you have some fucking respect instead of poppin’ off at the mouth. I’ve dealt with your shit ask damn day, trying to be patient and understanding— like I always am with yo lil ass. I’m not playin’ crys. sit down,” he demands. and he really means that shit too, she can tell.

crys’ jaw is damn near on the floor by the time he finishes talking. “who you talkin’ t—“ she starts, only to be interrupted by a slow approaching ony, having put the materials he was working with down. “crys, I swear, if you don’t get some act right—“ he starts, trying to keep his breath even and his body calm. tired of being interrupted, crys decides to give him a taste of his own medicine. “what? what you gone do? talk my ear off? stand there and look at me with your arms crossed? I ain’t scared of you, ony. you don’t do shit and won’t do shit to me.”

“nah. I’ma fuck you,” he answers as he steps into her personal space. if crys’ jaw was on the floor before, it’s in hell now. there’s no way he just said that. “fuck that nasty ass attitude right outta you. you playin’ in my face, ma. you know I don’t like that shit. I’ve been so fuckin’ understanding with yo ass, somethin’ not every nigga is willin’ to do, by the way. you push and you push and I let yo ass. is that the problem?” he tilts his head, chest almost touching hers as he looks down. his eyes are dark, his jaw tense. the vein she thought she saw earlier is bulging now, almost angrier than ony himself. “is the problem that I let yo lil ass keep pushin’ me? cause I swear it don’t mean that I’ll just let the shit slide. and I’ll prove that shit too.”

ᥫ᭡

“fuck,” crys pants, tugging on the sheets in front of her. “please,” her voice breaks. “just— just lemme come. I’m so close, ony, please!”

she’s been on all fours for a while now, face buried in the bed as ony works her with his tongue and fingers. she’s in a pool of her own arousal, thighs wet and pussy drenched from the several times she’s been close to the edge, only to be disappointed each time as she’s denied her orgasm. her bottom lip is bitten raw, toes almost permanently curled and eyes finding a home in the back of her head as she pushes her hips back again and again to coax ony to at least let her have one. if she knew this was going to be the result of her attitude today, she would’ve just asked him to fuck her before they even left to go shopping. she’s waited enough for this, and even now when she’s so close, she’s getting denied.

there’s a harsh but absolutely welcome smack to her ass and she whines so damn pathetically that ony almost laughs. pulls his full lips from her clit with a pop and massages the cheek. “you want me to stop?” he asks, his voice low and raspy in a way unfamiliar to crys. she quickly shakes her head and grips the sheets tighter. “no, please! keep going, wanna come on your face,” she begs, pushing her hips to meet his lips again. the sound and sight of her is addicting, ony thinks. he likes the way she seems so desperate for his touch and tongue, craving that release that he’s been building up for so long. “you wanna come?” he asks, his fingers sliding back into her soaked pussy. he can feel her clench around him almost instantly. fuck he’s going to enjoy tonight. “yes! yes, wanna come!” she pants, rocking her hips to meet the thrust of his long fingers.

“then shut the fuck up and let me have my fun,” he murmurs, diving his face back in as his tongue meets her clit once again. “ah, shit,” she whimpers, her eyes rolling back again at the pleasure that washes over her. “yes, yes, just like that. fuck, you eatin’ my pussy up,” she moans. she’s never been so mad but so pleased at the same time. he’s torturing her and she doesn’t know how much longer she can last before she releases all over him without his say so. she’s already been through so much, she doesn’t want to find out what else he’ll do , even if it’s his fault. “my fuckin’ pussy,” he pulls back to murmur, flicking his tongue quickly over her pearl as his fingers continue to pump. she’s so wet, his fingers move with ease, and the sound that’s made is delicious. “say that shit.”

“fuck, I’ll say whatever you want,” she whines, back arching and toes throwing up gang signs. “s’your pussy, baby! take it take it take it,” she moans, throwing her ass back over and over. she’s so damn close, so damn close. she can almost taste it. her tummy feels like it’s about to burst and her poor pussy is sobbing. he pulls back once again to her dismay, reading her body like a book. “you betta not fuckin’ come,” he murmurs, fingers moving faster as they stretch her. how the hell is she not supposed to come? is he insane? “you fuckin’ kidding meee?” she whines, her head falling down onto the sheets. ony likes how spent she looks already, and he hasn’t even fucked her yet. “you know damn well I ain’t,” he grumbles, smacking her ass again. “arch that shit. it’s gone be a long night if you don’t listen to me, baby.”

in a turn of events, ony’s pussy drunk. he’s enjoying himself way too much, taking in her moans and slurping up what’s now his to pleasure. he’s just drowning in her, hands exploring everywhere he can touch. caressing, appreciating, adoring this beautiful woman falling apart on his tongue. he could do this all day and be grateful every second of it. he’s absolutely aching in his shorts, but something about bringing such a normally mouthy girl to babbles is too hard to turn away from. he didn’t even mean to take it this far, he just doesn’t want to stop. he wants her to keep feeling good, and the way she begs and reaches back for him to bring him closer lets him know that he’s doing his job

“please, I can’t,” she begs, back arching but breath deepening. “ony, I caan’tt, m’gonna come,” she whines. she’s trying, really she promises she is, but it’s just become too hard to hold out. it’s too good, she wants it and needs it. if he doesn’t stop or give her the green light, she’s gonna make a mess of both of them, and she’s not going to regret it. ony groans at her whines, basking in the sound of her begging and pleading. he can feel how she’s clenching, hears the desperation in her voice. she’s gone, melting into a pile of goo at his touch, and he’s never felt more satisfied. not only are they both having the times of their lives, but that attitude is just about gone and she’s actually acting like she has some fucking manners.

he reluctantly pulls back and removes his hand from her, licking at his fingers like a man starved. “flip over,” he huffs, standing and palming his aching dick. she seems to be too out of it, raising her head full of messy curls to look up in his general direction. “w-what?” she questions. ony doesn’t have time for her shit, so he grabs her hips and flips her over his damn self. the way he looks down at her is downright sinful and crys flutters simply at the sight. “fuckin’ bratty ass. you did this to yourself, crys. was gonna take you on a nice ass date, make love with your pretty ass, do shit the right way. but that fuckin’ mouth of yours,” he grumbles as he grabs her by her ankles, pulling her to the end of the bed. “is too damn bold with me. gotta fix that, sweetheart. you gone be my good girl after tonight, I can promise you that.”

she whines and grinds against his hand as his thumb traces circles on her puffy clit. looking down at her, he realizes that this is one of his favorite sights now. her eyes are blurry with tears from the constant denial, her face scrunched in a cute and sexy pout of pleasure, her tits shifting with each movement. ony could watch her like this all day, bringing her to the edge over and over just to see those pretty tears fall and hear that voice of hers crack. that’d only be torture for himself as well because he feels like he’s about to burst. “you so damn beautiful. you want this dick, sweetheart? tell me, I’ll give it to you,” he murmurs, licking his lips as he lets his shorts fall. crys whines and nods, unruly curls all over the place. so damn breathtaking.

“gimme it, please. wanna come all over it, baby. paint it for you,” she begs. her arms reach to hook around the back of her knees, pulling her thighs back slightly to open up for him. her words only serve to rile him up more. “you a lil freak, huh? mmm, you can do better than that, baby. stretch them legs like I know yo lil freaky ass can,” he grumbles, pulling his underwear down and off, his cock hanging low between his legs. crys knew it— she just knew it was big, and she was right. it’s long and thick with a minimal curve, and if she wasn’t so deprived she’d get on her knees and pay him back for the teasing. she whimpers and bites her lip, sliding her hands to hook behind her knees instead. she pulls her thighs flush to her chest and keeps going, extending her legs.

“fuck, yeah, baby, show me that pretty pussy. fat pussy all mine,” he grumbles. he lessens their distance, letting himself rest on her as he takes her in. what a fucking vision of a woman. he takes his dick in his hand and lightly taps it against her before her rubs himself all in her wetness. “look at ‘chu, baby. so fuckin’ sloppy. this all for me?” he asks, tilting his head as he looks back to her face. she goes to speak, but ony considers her next words unimportant in the grand scheme of things. before she can speak, she feels him start to press into her. she lets out a breathy moan, her grip tightening on her legs. “f-fuck,” she moans at the same time ony lets a groaning “shiiit,” pass his lips.

the two pant, looking each other in the eyes as he continues to press forward. crys is seeing stars, feeling the stretch of him. her face scrunches and her eyes begin to close. “mm-mm, keep them pretty eyes on me,” ony‘s breathing heavy , his hand coming to lightly wrap around her throat. “sexy ass. you bet not deny me that shit.” crys can only lick her lips, forcing her eyes open to meet his, clenching at the way he speaks. his words add to the growing fire within her. “there you go, baby. love that shit,” he murmurs, leaning forward to press his lips against hers in a nasty, sloppy kiss. crys is upset at the fact that this man is really bringing her to her knees. “so damn fine. don’t know why I waited so long to be in yo shit. too fucking good,” he groans, pulling out just slightly before pushing back in. crys gasps, pulling her legs closer just to have something to grab, but it just makes him go deeper.

“feels so good, onyyy,” she moans, keeping the eye contact as much as she can. ony’s hovering over her now, watching her with his bottom lip between his teeth and his eyebrows together in concentration. he’s moving slowly, letting her adjust to him and just taking in the view in front of him. “onyyy,” she moans, clenching around him as her pussy flutters. he’s so damn fine and it’s been so long since she’s been touched. he’s deep in her shit and she’s on cloud nine. she wants more, so much more, and she wants it all from him. she hates it took so long to get to this point and hates that she the fact that she stopped herslef from persuing him. she wants this, needs all of him. “fuck me,” she chokes out. “c’mon, please.”

“relax,” he mutters, his free hand rubbing up her thigh. “just keep that pretty pussy open for me. I’ma always give you what you need, sweetheart. always.” and he means it. he’s never going to play with her, not her heart or her mind. but he’ll play with her pretty pussy until the sun comes up, until the cows come home. he’s never felt anything so good, seen someone so beautiful while they take his dick. she’s everything to him in this moment, her curls sprawled around her like the sun’s halo, face showing all the pleasure she’s feeling. her breathing is deep, her eyes staying on his just like he said.

he’s fucked. shit, he might just be in love.

“ooo, fuck, ony,” she keens, her nails slightly digging into the skin of her thigh. “so big. oh my God, baby.” she’s having the time of her life. he’s stretching her so well, and he feels so damn good digging into her like that. ”yeah, yeah. been waiting for thisss,” she pants, unable to keep her mouth shut. it’s just so good and it’s hitting that spot. would could blame her? “give it to me,” she moans. ony groans above her, his hips starting to meet hers sharper and sharper. she’s still so vocal, and he’s eating it the fuck up. “mhm,” he breathes, his hands moving to rest on hers, helping to hold her legs as she falters. “take that dick, babygirl. s’all for you. swear it is,” he groans. she doesn’t know it, but she could ask for just about anything right now and he’d give it to her.

her eyes scan over him, her hand reaching out to lightly scratch down his abdomen. “fuckin’ me so good, ony.”ony groans at the touch of her nails, his gut tightening at the way she’s looking up at him. he pulls out, reaching down to tap himself against her again. she’s too much, her voice, her eyes, her touch… the way she keeps clenching around him. “you fuckin’ dangerous, mama,” he pants. “can I beat this pussy up, baby? lemme take it.” crys bites her lip and nods, looking up at him in a way that makes him grip her thighs a little tighter. fucking minx. he’s beating himself up for not doing this sooner. he adjusts himself on the bed, leaning down to press his lips to hers as he slides back in, the two of them moaning into each other's mouths. he immediately picks up the pace as he sucks her bottom lip into his mouth, nibbling slightly as he presses more of his weight onto her.

crys starts to gasp with each thrust, toes curling and a squeak escaping her when she feels his hands on her clit. “w-wait— fuck, wait, m’gonna come quick,” she moans, fingers gripping ony’s shoulders as he pins one of her thighs to her chest. she wants to come with him, but her earlier pleasure is coming back with a fucking vengeance. ony chuckles— actually chuckles, and rasps down to her, “that’s the point, sweetheart. give it to me.” if she wasn’t on the brink of a mind blowing orgasm, she’d be pissed and annoyed at that fucking smirk. but instead she pants and pants until her breath stops. her orgasm washes over her in delicious waves, and she’s just frozen in pleasure, unable to do anything but come and come, pulsing around ony.

“breathe, mama. come on, breath through that shit,” ony guides, pressing kisses up and down her neck. right, breathing. she forgot about that. crys lets out a long moan, her eyes rolling back as she tastes her sweet release. sweet isn’t even the word, though. the denial and delay just makes things ten times stronger, her orgasm wracking her in a way she wasn’t prepared for. she’s holding onto ony tightly as he talks her through it, breathing heavy as she just takes it. “yeaah, there you go. breathe, baby, I got you. gonna take real good care of you just like I said,” ony grumbles, nipping at her skin here and there and slowing his thrusts and his assault on her clit. he has to pant at the way she’s so tight around him, and he’s just so strained holding back good open release. “you deserve that shit, baby.” more kisses and nips than either of them can count are placed on crys’ neck as crys comes down and tries to calm down as well.

his hand reaches to gently caress her cheek as he presses soft, sweet kisses to the other. “you’re so beautiful, babygirl. you feel okay?” he asks softly. okay? she’s riding down a fucking rainbow of happiness and bliss. okay is an understatement. crys figures that would boost his who a bit too much, so she just tilts her head to rest on the side of his. “mhm,” she hums breathlessly. “so good,” she murmurs. ony’s glad, pressing more kisses to her sweet face. he’s happy he can make her feel good, especially considering how she was sarlier in the day. “good enough to gimme another one?” he asks. he just can’t get enough, so he has to ask. he wants this night to last as long as it can.

crys lets out a breath, wondering just what the hell is wrong with the man. she’s been through the wringer for a good while now. but it’s felt amazing every step of the way, so the answer is yes. of course it’s yes. she nods. “just one more, sweetheart,” he croons, looking down at her dazed face. he pulls out, turning her over onto her stomach, much gentler this time. he guides her on all fours and reaches to rest his hand on the headboard, his other hand positioning himself once again. once he begins to push inside, his arm wraps around her torso to hold her tight as they both moan. his hips start to move again, this time with a slower pace as he braces himself on the headboard.

ony can’t help but feel the shift on the room. it’s much more intimate than before, crys sensitive from one release already. he wants to be so many things for her. he can be a little aggressive, knowing she likes when he bites back. he can be goofy and unserious. and he can be soft. he can be serious with her and about her. that’s what he wants. “wanted this for so long, baby. wanted you,” he murmurs into her ear. the sound makes her pussy flutter, causing him to chuckle again. “sh-shut up,” she mumbles, her hands slowly tightening around the sheets below them. the combination of his intimate confession and his thrusting into her is a double whammy that she didn’t see coming.

“mmm, I’m serious babygirl. want you, been wantin’ you,” he presses, eyes falling shut as his hips continue to move. she feels so good, it’s ridiculous. he’s going to be in it every day if she lets him. “gotta make you mine, ma. I’m forreal.” and he is, because what kind of idiot would he be to let her slip through his fingers? crys let’s her head fall back in a moan as he starts to gently work her clit. everything about this is just insane. who knew what today was going to bring? “y-you never… ah,” she cuts herself off with a moan as he curves his hips, fucking her in just the right way in such an intimate moment. fuck, what was she saying? “I never said anything, I know. s’my fault, no excuse. I was just too busy enjoyin’ bein’ around you,” he murmurs, moaning as he holds her tighter. his hips are starting to move a bit faster and crys is starting to meet his every thrust.

“but you mine now, right? I’ma do— fuuuck, I’ma do right by you, mama. always,” he groans. he means every word. it’s like she has a spell on him and he doesn’t care. if she wants his heart, she can take it. he leans back from the headboard, sitting up on his knees as he keeps her back against his chest. gosh, crys’ heart just flutters. “yeah,” she moans. “yeah, ony, m’yours. f-finally.” that puts a tired smile on ony’s face, his already racing heart squeezing. with one hand massaging her clit and the other now on her hip, ony begins fucking into her faster. “that’s right, baby. and I’m yours. can’t get rid of me, can’t push me away, sure as fuck not scarin’ me away,” he groans. i’d important to him that she knows that, with her lil stubborn ass.

crys reaches back behind her, grabbing onto him. “yeah, j-just like that, ony. me and youuu,” she moans, feeling that familiar sensation again. her body’s almost tired of it after so much teasing and edging and repeating. “gonna come for you, baby,” she groans. she has no fight left, it’s going to rock her and she knows it. “you gonna come for me?” he asks, his voice coming out breathy as he continues to thrust into her. he doesn’t remember the last time he felt as good as he does in this moment. he doesn’t want it to end, but he can’t hold anymore. she’s tight around him, pulsing as her release approaches once again. “paint my dick, baby, just like you said. then I’ma give you this nut,” he huffs, working his hips more and more. crys is a moaning mess, her head dipping as she feels another strong orgasm approaching. “keep breathin’,” ony croons. “want you to feel all that shit, mama.”

she breathes as even as she can, breaths deepening as she quickly approaches that line. “ohhh, ony!” she cries out, her eyes squeezing shut. ” let it out, baby, give it to me. give me that shit,” he groans to her, working her clout faster and faster as he keeps pumping into her. it’s all too much and it brings her over the edge, her toes almost cramping and hips moving without her knowledge. “there it goes, keep breathing. fuck yeah, mama, take that shit.” it’s an intense feeling and she’s chasing it, breathing like ony directs and it makes the difference. she feels the shit down to her toes. her eyes are crossed and she can’t even fucking speak, just taking whatever comes as her eyes shut tight. “that’s it, baby, feel that shit. know you feel good, I know,” he pants.

ony’s fucking into her faster, the way she’s clenching around him making his head spin. his grip tightens on her hip as he chases his own high, watching her fucked out face. she looks so good like that, spent and satisfied and his. “fuuuck, you so gorgeous, crystal. gahdamn you feel good as fuck,” he rambles, praising her over and over just because he can and she deserves it. soon, he’s pulling out and pumping himself all over her ass, groaning as his body jerks. “yeah, ony,” crys coos with a raspy voice. she’s giving a tired wiggle of her hips, encouraging him to spill all over her. “fuckin’ perfect.”

the two pant, spent from such a lovely day together. it’s silent as they just back in the afterglow of their impromptu endeavors. eventually, ony starts to press sweet, calming kisses to her shoulder and back. he appreciates the small marks on her skin, random beauty marks and freckles. “perfect, mama. you were perfect,” he rasps. as far as he’s concerned, today couldn’t have been more successful. crys is… well, crys is out of commission at the moment. her mind is fuzzy in her post orgasm bliss, and she’s catching her breath as she basks in his kisses. “fuck…” she mumbles. that was very unexpected but completely welcome. the wait was more than worth it, and now she can have that again and again and again. “yeah,” ony chuckles tiredly. “yeah, that was crazy. damn.”

the two laugh together, gross and sticky, but so happy with the situation. that line was finally crossed, and there’s no going back. not that either of them would want to, anyway. ony glances down at crys as she rests for a moment, eyes closed and lashes tickling her skin. the earlier tensions are gone, nothing but fondness and connection in it’s wake. he reaches to caress her cheekbone, tucking a curl behind her ear and out of her face. “sorry for earlier,” crys mumbles into the quiet. she really is, she doesn’t like when she projects her upset like that. she nevers wants that for anyone she’s connecting with, especially not ony. he’s been understanding with her in a way that she’s learned to deeply appreciate. “but I’m glad we did this.”

ony hums, pressing another kiss to her shoulder. he can deal with a little push from her, especially since he gets to keep her. she’s a sweet girl, and she invigorates him. he appreciates her expressiveness and range of emotions, and understands that sometimes she’s just human. he’s okay with that. but now that they’re together, he has the ability to take a different approach. sometimes she needs him to snap back at her, and that’s what he’ll do with absolutely no hesitation from now on. there’s a mutual respect and understanding, and ony really fucks with that shit. “just needed some attention… and dick,” he murmurs. and he’ll give it to her whenever, wherever.

crys groans and starts to fuss, turning to weakly slap at his chest. “oh, shut up! go get me a damn towel!” here he goes saying some slick shit, right when the moment is good. he’s such an idiot sometimes, but it never fails to put a smile on her face. ony lets out a bellowing laugh, backing off of her and standing on his only slightly wobbling legs. he hopes she didn’t see that, but she’s already talking shit again. “yeah, pussy got you walkin’ crazy,” she sasses as he starts his trek to the bathroom, watching his sweaty but oh so fine figure walk away. ”better act right or you’ll never get it again,” she huffs. ony laughs again, shaking his head. “don’t make me start this shit all over, crystal,” he calls over his shoulder. she rolls her eyes but nuzzles her face into a pillow as she grumbles under her breath. she’s not scared, she’s just still recovering, is all. “yeah, that’s what I thought,” he laughs.

soon, they’re all cleaned up and on fresh sheets, crys refusing to sleep in the crusty bedspread after everything was said and done. they get into a spat about who gets to sleep on which side of the bed, and then over whether they should sleep with some time of light on. ony also demands to cuddle, but crystal fusses that she’ll get too hot and won’t be able to sleep. for that brief period, it’s war.

eventually, though, after bargains and begrudging compromises, crys is on her back on her usual side of the bed and ony is half-sprawled on top of her, head buried in her neck and hand softly rubbing her outer thigh. a random sitcom plays with no sound and the room is a nice, cool temperature with the fan blowing on the both of them. crys caresses ony’s back gently with her nails, eyes closed as she enjoys the weight of him on top of her. the pleasant feeling is like a weighted blanket, lulling her to sleep. ony is holding crys close, enjoying her warmth and presence. he’s taking full advantage of being able to cuddle with her. they fall asleep like this, wrapped up in each other, and wondering what the next day will bring.

hoooooly moooooly. this was not supposed to be this long. was hoping to post this sooner, but the words just kept coming omg. pls excuse any mistakes lmao. hope you like it! feedback welcome and wanted 🫶🏽

[xmoriartea]

SVSSS!Sibling Transmigration 2: Electric Boogaloo

a continuation of this nonsense that ya'll seemed to enjoy

While Shen Yuan and Luo Binghe hold hands and jump into the abyss, Airplane is left holding no pizza with the sect on fire (and him-damnit. He could really use a pizza right now)

Shang Qinghua helped organize the Immortal Alliance Conference fiasco, but with his brother's guidance and Mobei Jun's shocking willingness to listen to both of them, Cang Qiong suffers only two losses that day: LBH and SY (none of the other major sects are so lucky, shifting even more power into Cang Qiong (and thus SQH/MBJ)'s sway as they planned)

Shen Jiu (named Qingqiu now ofc, but still Jiu-ge to SY) does not handle his part in this well at all. Did he shove LBH into the abyss? He would say no. He just maneuvered an awakening and unstable Heavenly Demon away from his brother. (Bro did NOT account for said brother to throw himself at LBH and basically take both their asses into the abyss. Not even Airplane saw that one coming tbqfh)

So yeahhh. SJ is not handling this well. While his brother is missing SJ qi deviates no less than two times which has Qing Ding and every peak lord walking on eggshells. No one mentions either of his missing disciples unless absolutely necessary around him. Unfortunately, he spends entirely too much time researching the abyss, tearing through every tome on the peaks

When the lords try to discuss a way to help SJ's instability, the mention of dual cultivation is floated once and while YQY is hand on the trigger to volunteer as tribute, the vehement refusal from SJ has YQY declaring it off limits without hesitation (there are some murmurs about this, but YQY takes pride in protecting SJ and shuts everyone down)

Airplane and SY know each other well enough that he knows SY would be devastated if something happened to SJ (he knows SY had siblings, that he misses them, that his heart aches twice for the family here and home and he won't let him come back to an empty bamboo house. Airplane knows the pain of an empty home and he will find something in his brain to fix it)

This leads to one tense conversation with SJ like "Look I know you fucking hate me but for SY's sake please just listen one time: your brother is coming home. I don't know how exactly, but we both know he's too stubborn not to" (this does not endear him to his villain son, but he would swear SJ glares a little less at him after)

There is then a Sun-Moon Dew Mushroom tier research saga but it's Airplane alone digging through tomes and notes and getting a little xianxia stoned to try and remember the obscure world building he created. (You know what he remembers? That's he created TOO MUCH world building shit while three energy drinks deep at 2am for any one man to remember!! Cucumber-bro get back here!!)

Meanwhile MBJ is playing a differently game entirely while every cultivator is stressed out of their minds. He's got a spy who is assisting him with power grabs that his father would never have imagined. He's courting a pathetic little mouse of a man. LBH is not a name that means anything yet. MBJ is THRIVING. Everyone else is in a drama and he's in a dating sim

And with two Shangs? The first time he does something too aggressive-demonic in his attempt to court a flailing sleep deprived Airplane, SQH is there to be like 'wtf do you think you're doing you beast?' Does SQH nearly get his ass beat for this insult to his king? Maybe a little bit. But!! Airplane gets woo'd! Without bloodshed!! (his own anyway. SQH picks his battles and cannot pry MBJ's desire to hunt big, rare game to prove his worth as a partner to Airplane which ofc leads to moments of the Shang brothers just standing over the corpse of some ancient-possibly-mythical beast just... in their living room on An Ding like 'wtf do we do with this? my king pls')

Of course, the plot finds everyone eventually. And however the fuck it happens, MBJ crosses path with a power-grabbing LBH, is forced to surrender to return home alive to his consort-to-be (MBJ is waiting for the MBJ title to be 100% his before cementing the courtship), becomes second in command to this brat, and goes home to his Shangs to lick his wounds (MBJ does not expect Airplane to shake his face and demand to know if there was a human cultivator with this half-demon brat and then demand to be taken to them if so when MBJ just 'wtf' stares)

Turns out, several years in the abyss even for the protagonist and a man who knows far too fucking much about abyss nuances for a human is still not an easy time Being human in the abyss? It's a dinner bell for every big monster that SY wants to just observe like the worst tourist. LBH cannot figure out why his shixiong keeps putting himself in danger like this (shixiong!! if you know the deadly thing is hiding in this swamp what if!!! we didn't!! go in the goddamn swamp shixiong!!!) But! That abyss knowledge is hard to beat. SY is able to guide LBH through safe routes and help guide him on his demonic journey (LBH ofc asks how his shixiong knows about any of this and SY panic changes subjects like a dozen times. Even in the back of LBH's head Meng Mo is like 'kid IDFK what this brat is but it's not normal and I need you to 1. understand that and 2. do not let him get away') And you know what is great for SY (and by extension LBH)? SY isn't juggling a persona that isn't his. He's allowed to come to terms with himself and his feelings on his terms. He gets to watch his white lotus LBH fight alongside him in the abyss and save his life and oh. OH. Maybe. Maybe he can have this? (SY being SY is still like PLOT EXISTS!! HAREM!! WIVES!! And look. He figures his own shit out a little bit, he's still a blind bastard. He doesn't notice how many wife plots he and LBH have stumbled into together, or how many LBH has skipped entirely. He can just be part of the harem, that's fine. He can live with that. Totally normal thoughts) LBH meanwhile can't even spell harem cause he only has eyes for this weird wonderful shixiong of his Given that the plot is a mess (happening, sure, but a MESS) they stumble into a new wife plot in the abyss (How was SY supposed to know full humans triggered nonsense plots down here?? It's not like LBH's human wives were ever down here with him!!) and so SY might be dying a second time. (Whoops! Whoops! Whoops! (Hey System? STFU if you have nothing useful to offer thank you!!!) But you know what could help this mortal cultivator trapped in the abyss? Demon qi. You know who has a lot of demon qi he doesn't know what to do with?? Best boy Binghe, that's who (they're both young and awkward and SY is dying and Binghe can't lose him. He can't be left alone again. It's declaration and promise and hope and when he kisses his shixiong he wills the transfer of qi between their lips and he can feel the way SY grows stronger in his arms with it) Let's just say that even when they clear the realm of the abyss that threatened SY, LBH still persistently insists that his shixiong share his qi mwah! (SY does not put up half as much complaint as he once might have over his sticky shidi) Also you know SY is going to find some horrific abyssal monstrosity and decide it's just the best and cutest most perfect and loyal pet (it's an honest to god nightmare and everyone they encounter is afraid of it and Binghe shoots it glares whenever it steals his shixiong's affections HOW DARE??) With SY's omnipotent abyss GPS sense and LBH sharing his excess of demon qi with SY, they're able to find Xin Mo, break the seal on LBH's powers, and then continue on his training montage (definitely too unstable to go back to the mortal realm early), also he has a fantastic anchor in SY at his side to soothe the Xin Mo urges and (don't ask shidi, pls he's begging) also teach him how to tame the sword

Cut back to several years of time passing, Airplane squishing his king's face, demanding to know about a human cultivator with this heavenly demon only for MBJ to (still face squished) say he wouldn't call the man at LBH's side human per se but if this is what his Airplane wants, he will take him with him to the meeting LBH has arranged for the following day (now please, let him pout and huff and receive head scritches)

Hey you know how people always get taken aback by Xie Lian being just absolutely filled with ghost qi??? SY is a cultivator, not a god, just a lad trying his best to follow that immortal master path, and he just spent SEVERAL years in the abyss and getting regularly dosed by HEAVENLY demon qi — this boy ain't right anymore, guys. He's definitely feeling some kind of demon-tier different™ after all of this and man is THRIVING because Now That's What SY Calls Lore

Please imagine heavenly demon LBH with a demon-touched SY holding demon court with their weird demon allies when MBJ shows up flanked by two totally human Shangs and the just.... the awkward staring these four members of Cang Qiong do at each other (LBH, oblivious to the spy on the mountain plots, just 'why tf is Shang-shixiong and Shang-shifu here??) (SQH looking at LBH and SY and just taking furious mental notes about these Developments and how this may affect his brother's safety) (SY and Airplane just seconds away from slapping the shit out of each other like cats in a bag just 'where the fuck have you been???' 'what have you done???')

Court gets to proceed as planned, but Consorts Shen and Shang make hasty exits together to figure out just what the fuck has been happening to Airplane's plot (There is minimal sibling-tier beat downs in the process and neither is free from sin)

Airplane explains that SJ is a mess and that they need to do something if SY wants to continue having a brother ('bro, he will go off the deep end soon if he doesn't find you but if he finds you like this BRO WILL GO OFF THE DEEP END!! DO YOU SEE THE PROBLEM??')

Their scheming gets them on the idea the Sun-Moon Dew Mushroom and between both their whipped demons, it's very easy to acquire it, cultivate it, and prepare it for SJ (ofc monster loving son SY shares some with a cute snake he sees, obviously)

SY sneaks onto Qiong Ding with their near ready science project and meets with YQY who is... not thrilled with the demonic influence all over his shidi's brother. But he listens, because end of the day they both care for SJ. SY can't risk SJ having another deviation if he sees him, so he entrusts YQY to present this fix to SJ: a way to repair his broken core and shed the scars of his past (ofc they both know he will be suspicious, but after doing his own research, he would take it in a heartbeat)

When SJ has a shiny new and powerful body, that's when LBH and SY return to the sect. No demon army, no attacks, no Huan Hua bs. Just two lost disciples making their return from the abyss. (There is much distrust. SQH plays his role as well as ever, siding with the other lords that certain tests must be passed to ensure they are not demons--- oh wait one of you IS a demon. and the other has been influenced by that one. Mhhh. Mhmmm. This is fiiiiiine)

SJ doesn't deviate! But he is! Mad! There is much yelling and shouting and disciples are made to run around Qiong Ding peak while every other lord just has to sit through the most chaotic family reunion.

But things can go back to normal from here right? Just casual transmigration, not plot threats? (System? System you're laughing. They're having a nice moment and you're laughing)

[freeabortionslol]

lake house bunny (jack hughes x bsf!reader)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

summary: kinda love triangle (quinn hughes), bsfs to lovers, smut with plot, quinn's new gf tries to get under your skin by pushing you and jack tg, pining (from jack), reader uses the nickname 'bunny', trevor and cole are heavily incorporated in the plot (bc who doesn't love them) warnings!! NSFW, heated makeout, fingering, cursing, drinking, angst, use of the word 'slut', quinn being an asshole a/n: first time writing NSFW ahh! (pls don't judge if u think its bad. I tried.) this has been sitting in my drafts forever. this kinda fits in with the lake house gc (if you like this you should def read those in my master list) BUT it's not canon in the series. I tried my hardest to not make reader seem like a pick me girl but I fear she kind of is. let me preface by saying, I DO NOT CONDONE SLUT SHAMING!! just bc ur jealous doesn't mean you have a right to talk shit on the new girl. also, I can't stand people who hate on other people for 'being too nice' but reader DEFINITELY has her reasons to be suspicious. anyways, happy reading :) -mars wc: 9.6k

18+ content // minors dni

“This is disgusting.” you sat on the boat, arms crossed next to Jack as you glared over at Quinn and his new girlfriend, Adelaide. He was driving the boat with her perched in his lap. Her hands wrapped around him, while he had one on the wheel with the other on her thigh. Your blood boiled at the sight. All you could think of was how much you longed to be the one wrapped around him like you used to.

“Yeah, she’s a slut.” Jack whispered into your ear, eliciting a soft laugh from you. You and Jack had always shared a close bond, one that felt especially strong in the lake house. He was your rock, the one person you could always rely on. Jack knew since you were kids how much you liked Quinn, and he couldn’t help gaining a jealous eye when he saw the two of you together. You never knew how much he actually cared about you, as you were too wrapped up in trying to get Quinn to even just look at you. Since you were teenagers, it’s felt like a game. Quinn would give you the smallest amount of attention and flirtation, then he would ignore you. The cycle repeated throughout every summer at the lake house. You let your arms fall to your side, glancing over to Luke trying to surf the wakeboard as Trevor and Cole cheered him on. You turned your attention to your feet, trying not to look at the eye sore that sat at the wheel.

You sighed, glancing over to Jack who had moved his sunglasses to the top of his head. “You know the worst part is, she’s not a slut. She’s really nice and funny. I actually like her, and I want to hate her so bad.” Jack gave you an empathetic smile, and you couldn’t help but gaze back at the couple. You rested your elbows on your knees, letting your face fall into your hands as you stared. Jack hated seeing you in this state, and he hated his brother more for making you feel like this. He didn’t actually hate his brother, but he couldn’t help but let his anger take over when Quinn was messing with you like this. Jack sighed, looking over to his brother who was laughing with Adelaide, probably about something that wasn’t nearly as funny as the things you said. He looked back to you who had sad eyes as you watched the scene in front of you. 

Jack huffed his breath, causing you to turn your attention towards him. “Are you okay?” you asked softly, noticing the tension in his jaw as he turned to you, worry evident in his eyes.

“Yeah. I’m fine,” he replied, but you could tell he was anything but. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this.” Jack decided to do exactly what Jack Hughes was expected to do in the moment of his best friend’s misery. In a sudden burst of determination, he leaned over and pulled you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you in one swift motion.

“Jack, what are you doing?” You said with a soft smile, your body instinctively relaxing against him.

“Lifting your spirits.” He smiled, placing one hand on your back and the other on your thigh to pull you in closer. You moved one of your arms around his neck, your free hand landing on his bicep, grazing his bare skin with your thumb. The simple touch sent shivers through his body as he tried to keep himself content. You moved your head to look over to Quinn, but Jack grabbed your chin, shifting your gaze back to himself. “Don’t look at them. Look at me.” You graced him with a small half smile, as you leaned further into his touch. “Pretend I just said something funny.”

You rolled your eyes, your tone flat as you spoke. “Haha, Jack! You’re hilarious!” Jack cracked a smile and burst out laughing at your attempt to fake a laugh. Your laughs quickly went from fake to real in an instant. Jack blushed at the sound, pulling you in closer. The two of you carried on in conversation, laughing with each other, and you eventually found your head resting on his shoulder. You were being more touchy with him than normal, in an attempt to make Quinn jealous. Jack was fine with this, welcomed it even, but a part of him felt bad for playing into your vulnerability. While you were in the middle of animatedly telling Jack a story about work, Adelaide’s attention caught sight. She tilted her head and smiled, watching the two of you interact.

“They’re so cute together.” She remarked, drawing Quinn’s attention away from the water. He shifted his gaze, eyes darkening at the sight of you wrapped around his brother. He simply scoffed and returned his glare to the water, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was jealous watching the two of you touch each other like that. He was so used to having you follow him around like a puppy, he didn’t think about the consequences of bringing a girl to the lake house. He kept his eyes on the water trying his best not to look at the two of you, when he heard Adelaide's phone camera shutter.

“Did you just take a picture of them?” He asked, glancing over to her.

“Yeah, it’s just a cute photo. They’ll want it.” She brushed him off with her hand, pointing his sight back to the water.

“Okay. Just don’t post it or share it anywhere. They like to keep their personal lives private.” She agreed and the two of them went back to cuddling in the captain's chair. You were too wrapped up in Jack to even notice Quinn and Adelaide anymore. The two of you were laughing about old times, squeezed into each other. You couldn’t help but lean into the comfortable touch of Jack, who was holding you with such care. The way he rubbed his thumb against your skin and squeezed your thigh, made your body tingle in a way that it had never before. You and Jack were always touchy and affectionate with each other. It’s the kind of friendship you had, but it was never like this. This felt like Jack was being possessive, and you wouldn’t admit it, but you liked it. You noticed the way he would squeeze your thigh whenever he caught Quinn looking as if to say, “She’s mine. You can’t have her.” In his head, he thought no other man should be able to look at you on the boat like he did. He admired the way your skin shone from the sun under your baby blue bikini, the way your bun slightly tugged at your scalp when you laughed, and the way your cherry red lips smiled down at him when he said something cheeky. This beautifully painted picture was for him and him only. He wanted Quinn to know that. Even if he thought you were only doing this to get a rise out of Quinn, Jack looked at it as a distraction from the sadness of the situation for you. He felt a sense of protection over you from Quinn, being an audience member to your little routine every summer. He never wanted you to get hurt because even if he had deep feelings for you, you were still his best friend. 

As the sun began to set, Quinn pulled the boat into the dock. He and Adelaide stepped off first, hand in hand, with Luke and Trevor following close behind. Cole walked over to you and Jack who had coincidentally fallen asleep on each other. His grip on your waist was still tight as you rested your head on his shoulder. His head had fallen onto yours, mouth parted slightly as the two of you slept peacefully. You were both rudely awakened by the sound of Cole clapping his hands together in front of your faces.

“Rise and shine dickheads.” You slowly opened your eyes, blinking to adjust to the sudden light. Jack woke up beneath you, rubbing his eyes as he unwrapped his arms from around you. You quickly got back on your feet, Jack following behind you as you both lazily stepped off the boat. “Gotta stay alive for the party, princess.” Cole placed his hands on your shoulders, guiding you off the dock. Jack walked closely, ready to snatch you away from Cole’s grip in a millisecond. He noticed the way you covered your arms with your hands as goosebumps grew across your body, without a thought behind his eyes he immediately handed you his warm shirt that had been drying under the sun for hours. You sent him a gratitude filled smile as you slipped on the shirt, feeling instantly warmer. Jack didn’t stop there, he put his arm around your waist, pulling you close, subtly hinting to Cole that this wasn’t a friendly touch anymore. Jack was actually trying to reel you in like he said he’d do years ago. The three of you broke off into your separate rooms to begin getting ready for the annual party thrown by Jack and Quinn. You were dreading the party this year, having to be crammed in the basement surrounded by Quinn’s teammates, you were just thankful that some of the Devils would be there too. As you stepped into the shower, you let the warm water entrap your body, washing away the weight of the day. You stayed still for a second just letting the shower pour down on you, grateful that your horrible boat ride had come to an end. Watching her and Quinn felt worse than actual torture. It wasn’t even the fact that you had feelings for him, because if you were being honest they weren’t extremely strong, it was the fact that he could be so loving and good to her and not you. For years Quinn has led you on and brought you down over and over again, and here he is playing wife and husband with some bunny he met on a roadie. I must be the problem, you thought to yourself, and unfortunately that idea would stick. You exited the shower, slipping a towel over your frame, leaving the bathroom quickly. You entered the bedroom only to see Adelaide sitting at the vanity curling her hair and doing her makeup. You had completely forgotten that you had to share a room with her this summer, considering Ellen and Jim wouldn’t let couples share rooms in their lake house. It didn’t matter if you were adults, the rules were if you aren’t engaged or married, you can’t sleep together.

“Oh hey, Y/n!” She turned her attention from the mirror over to you in your towel. You simply waved to her wearing an awkward smile. She was really nice, almost too nice. “You and Jack looked really cute on the boat today.” 

“Thank you.” You mumbled, not knowing what else to say. You rushed to your dresser, pulling a pair of panties from the drawer before heading to the closet to grab your sundress. The silence was deafening and awkward. In her head, Adelaide wanted to talk to you, but she could sense your tenseness. You however, couldn’t speak to her. You were afraid that you would talk too much and accidentally let too much slip about you and Quinn, or maybe she would start talking about how great he was. That was bound to bring you to tears. You decided at that moment to exit the room, feeling uncomfortable undressing in front of her. Sure, she was a girl, but you barely knew her, and the thought of her judging you made your whole body cringe. You left the room, wrapped in your towel, walking through the halls until you made your way to Jack’s room. You knocked on it twice before hearing a faint “Come in.” Pushing the door open, you found Jack, Cole, and Trevor sprawled out on the bed, their attention fixed on their phones. They were already dressed in their clothes for the party, and you couldn’t help but notice how sharp Jack looked in his fitted white polo and jeans, his hair slightly tousled. You stomped over to the bed, tossing your clothes onto the floor before flopping down on the edge next to Cole’s feet, resting your head against Jack’s thigh.

“What's got you down, Bunny?” Trevor asked, tearing his gaze from his screen.

You sighed dramatically, covering your face with your hands. “I hate her.” 

“Hate who?” Cole questioned, glancing over.

“Quinny’s new girlfriend.” Jack said, running a hand over your wet hair. “You don’t hate her, B. You told me yourself.”

“Ugh! But I want to!” You flopped your arms down in frustration. “It’s just so frustrating.” You sat up to face Jack, making sure your towel was securely wrapped around you. “Do you know how difficult it is to watch someone that's hurt you over and over again, treat some random person like she’s his wife right in front of you?”

Jack laughed, pulling your towel up to your chest that had slightly fallen down. “Can’t say that I have. Not the universal experience you think it is.” You rolled your eyes, pouting your lips slightly at Jack’s absence of understandment.

“Yeah, why don’t you go talk to Addy about it.” Trevor said her name mockingly which caused you to whip your head over to him.

“Say her name again.” You warned, squinting your eyes at him.

Trevor’s face flushed quickly as he tried to quickly pull himself from the situation “Addy.” He said normally.

“Nuh uh. That’s not how you said it!” You shifted your body closer to Trevor, now invading his space. “You don’t like her!” Trevor’s eyes widened in fear.

“T-that's not true. I like everyone! Everyone is my friend.” He let out a nervous laugh before widening his eyes again at the sight of your stare. You stared at him intimidatingly with a small smile, knowing he would eventually crack. “Fine! I don’t like her!” Trevor buried his face in his hands.

“Yes!” You exclaimed, throwing your arms up in triumph as groans emerged from Jack and Cole.

“Great going, Trev. Told you not to say anything.” Cole smacked the side of Trevor’s head.

“You’re just feeding into her delusions.” Jack huffed out.

“Well, you guys are both fine with her, I can’t stand her! Apparently, Bunny can’t either, so allies.” You gave Trevor a fist bump, earning more groans from the boys. “I-I can’t help it! She cornered me and talked about her new Dior makeup set for like an hour!”

You gasped in disbelief “She uses dior?” Trevor nodded his head with wide eyes. “That rich skank!” 

“Exactly! Then, she starts bragging to me about all the things Quinn buys her, like I'm supposed to be jealous. ME. TREVOR ZEGRAS.”

You let out a slight laugh, now lying against the headboard in between Trevor and Cole. “Oh my god. She sucks.”

“No, no, no, no.” Jack interjected. “Bunny, Trevor is filling your head with garbage.” Jack scoffed, sending Trevor a glare before turning his attention back to you. “You’re only saying this stuff because he’s giving you a reason. You know that when you start talking to her again, you’ll forget this conversation ever happened and you’ll be back to being sad because you like her so much.” You whipped your head back over to Jack, indignation written all over your face.

“You called her a slut on the boat!” You pointed at him, gasps escaping from Trevor and Cole.

“Wh- I Di- I was trying to make you feel better!” Jack whisper yelled. Cole shifted in his seat, becoming more interested in the conversation.

“Jacky doesn’t like her either!” Trevor began to laugh, causing a smug smile to wipe across your face. “Admit it, Hughes. You don’t like your big brother’s ‘slut’ girlfriend.” Trevor let out, moving closer to you on the bed.

“She just seems…” He sighed, trying to collect his thoughts. “Too good to be true. Like she’s too nice.” You clapped your hands together in excitement, sitting up in your seat.

“That’s exactly what I'm talking about! It seems fake!” You yelled.

Jack rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help chuckling. “Like, I handed her a drink from the cooler and she said ‘Thank you so much Jack! This is amazing. You’re the best ever.’ Who is that happy to drink a Whiteclaw?” He mocked her voice with a high-pitched tone. 

“She just seems too polished,” Trevor added, nodding his head. “Like she’s trying to win the girlfriend of the year award.” 

Cole leaned back tossing a glance at you “Yeah you wouldn’t catch her dead hanging out with us on the bed in a towel.” You shifted from your position off the bed, signaling the boys to cover their eyes so you could get changed. You turned around, dropping the towel before putting on your dress.

“No, I get it, Jack. She came up to me before we got on the boat, looked me up and down, and said ‘ugh I wish I had your confidence’” Several “oooh”s and hisses from the teeth emerged from the boys. “I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but looking back it was pretty backhanded.” You said, slipping the straps of your dress up to your shoulders.

“How do I look?” You asked, spinning around as the boys uncovered their eyes, jaws dropping at the sight of you in your checker-patterned red dress. Trevor let out a low whistle as Cole clapped his hands in approval. Jack's gaze lingered over you for a moment longer. His eyes tracing up and down the dress that he had bought you last year on your birthday, wanting nothing more than to rip it off. You walked back over to the bed and Jack quickly sat up, taking the hem of your dress in his hand.

“You look beautiful as always.” He sent you a smile that made your heart race in an instant. Cole and Trevor side exchanged knowing glances with a slight smirk at the interaction. You smiled down at him, ruffling his hair as your cheeks flushed.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

An hour into the party, things were finally starting to settle in. You had taken shot after shot, doing your best to forget about the simmering situation in front of you. Quinn and Adelaide were sitting on the couch, arms wrapped around each other as they talked to Elias and Brock. That used to be you. You loved those guys and you missed talking to them, but they were Quinn’s friends, not yours. You were too drunk to even care when Luke pulled you away from your glare to a clearer area of the room. Everything was a blur. You were all smiles and laughs as Luke pulled you closer to him to dance to Pink Pony Club. You were on aux of course, the boys knew it was the only way you would have it. Luke had one hand on his beer and the other on yours as he spun you around. You laughed gracefully as you flopped against him while he jumped around. He set his beer on the table next to him, taking both your hands in his as he moved your arms back and forth. He stuck his tongue out as he jumped, moving closer as you laughed, leaning into him.

“Hey! is that girl looking at us?” He yelled into your ear, picking his beer up from the table.

You looked over your shoulder to see a small brunette girl who was eyeing Luke as she took a sip of her drink.

“Yeah.” You yelled back, a smile growing across your face at Luke’s excitement. “Go get em’ Lukey!” You pushed him away, towards the girl. He immediately got flustered and whatever drunk confidence he had, had suddenly left his body entirely as he went to speak to her. You laughed at the interaction and made your way towards the kitchen, settling yourself next to Nico the moment you caught sight of him. You hopped onto the counter, Nico having to spot you with his hands as you stumbled. You grabbed the side of his head, pulling his ear close to your lips.

“Grab me another drink?” You asked loudly. Nico turned to face you, laughing at your eyes that were lazily falling closed.

He placed a hand on your shoulder, trying to give you some sense of reality. “How about a water?” You grinned wide and nodded your head slowly at him. He smiled and walked off to get you a glass. You stayed on the counter, letting your gaze fall to Quinn and Adelaide yet again. They were standing in a circle, his arms wrapped around her as she chatted with Bella Boeser. You had always been good friends with Bella at social events like these. The two of you would manage to find each other and chat in a corner while Quinn and Brock were off entertaining their friends. It occurred to you in that moment, Bella hadn’t come up to you at all tonight. She seemed much more interested in Adelaide and her attempts at kindness. You felt a wave of sadness wash over you as you realized that this girl was quite literally taking everyone from you. 

“Stop gawking over the Canucks.” Nico walked up, handing you the water before draping an arm around your shoulders. “Being a Devils girl is way better.” You laughed at what you assumed to be an attempt at flirtation, but you were very wrong. “You're lucky your boyfriend is on our team and not theirs.” You nearly spit out the water in your mouth, turning your head to Nico with a stern look.

“Boyfriend? W-what? I don’t have one of those.” You said softly, worry filling your eyes.

“Wait, wait what? You and Jack aren’t-”

“No, why would you think that?” You cut him off loudly, playing with your necklace anxiously. Nico looked at you with wide eyes, tilting his head to the side.

“Uh- the post. I thought it was like a hard launch or something. Doesn’t look too friendly to me.” He laughed. Your eyes grew wider in fear, your mouth parting slightly as your heart beat faster.

Your grip on your necklace tightened as fear struck through your entire body. “Nico, w-what the hell are you talking about? What post?” Nico motioned towards your phone that sat on the counter next to you. You quickly picked it up, handing it over to him after unlocking it. Nico scrolled, and you bit your lip nervously, growing anxious to know what he was talking about. He handed the phone back to you, letting your eyes fall to a clear picture of you sitting on Jack’s lap laughing on the boat, his hands wrapped around your body. You stared down at the screen, heart racing as the realization sank in. The photo was up there for the world to see, one that you don’t even remember taking. Jack's arms wrapped around you, looking too comfortable to be “just friends”. You turned your attention to the top of the screen, seeing that it was Adelaide who posted the photo. Your blood boiled over your anxiety filled body, knowing that it was common knowledge that you and Jack preferred your personal lives to be private. “I-I-I gotta go. Thank you for the water.” You hopped off the counter, leaving your cup next to Nico. You quickly made your way through the swarm of people that filled the basement, looking for Jack. You pushed your way through the crowd, ignoring the curious stares and whispers. Your pulse was thundering through your ears as you made your way to the far side of the basement, where you last saw Jack. Finally, you spotted him leaning against the wall with Jesper and Curtis, laughing and entirely oblivious to the picture Adelaide posted. 

“Jack” You called out, his smile faltering at the sight of your facial expression.

“What's up?” He asked, moving away from his friends to meet you halfway. You didn’t waste any time. You grabbed his hand and dragged him up the stairs. He didn’t know what was going on, but he could sense your worry so he followed you immediately. You made your way through the upstairs hall until you finally made it to his room. You pushed him inside, quickly shutting the door behind you.

“Bunny, what’s going on?” Holding up your phone, you shoved it into his hand so he could see Adelaide’s post. His face shifted through a range of emotions. Confusion, surprise, and finally a hint of frustration. He ran a hand through his hair, sighing deeply, as he planted himself on the edge of the bed. “Are you kidding me? She posted this?” He groaned.

You nodded, crossing your arms. “And now everyone is going to think we’re together. Nico already thought you were my boyfriend.” A hint of sadness behind your voice.

“There is something wrong with that woman.” Jack huffed out, rubbing his neck. You sat down next to him, holding his arm and leaning your head on his shoulder. He leaned into your touch, placing his head on top of yours. “I’m so sorry. This wasn’t supposed to happen.” Before you could respond, there was a knock on the door. The two of you turned and the door opened slightly before Trevor and Cole poked their heads inside, their faces a mix of curiosity and amusement. 

“You two good in here?” Trevor asked, eyebrows raised as he looked between the two of you.

“Can we get five minutes without the two of you barging in?” Jack rolled his eyes as Trevor and Cole settled themselves in the room, shutting the door behind them.

“Five minutes, huh? That’s all you need?” Cole grinned, leaning against the wall.

Jack groaned, throwing his hands up “Seriously, dude?” Trevor made his way over to Jack, leaning over his shoulder to see the phone. He squinted his eyes slightly, trying to get a better look.

You looked up at Trevor, letting go of Jack’s arm. His eyes were wide and his mouth gaped open as he looked at the phone. “Holy shit.”

“What? What is it?” Cole asked, pushing himself from the wall to get a good look. He took the phone from Jack’s hand, pulling it closer to his eyes. “Oh my god. Did you even know she took this?” You shook your head, biting your lip ever so slightly. Jack huffed his breath, standing up to face Cole and Trevor. 

“This is bullshit.” He said, taking the phone from Cole’s hand. “I’m gonna talk to Quinn.” Jack started making his way to the door before you quickly stepped in front of him, placing a hand on his chest. You could feel his heavy breaths, the way his chest moved up and down in a pattern you’d never seen before. 

“No, wait,” You said, your voice quiet. “Let me talk to her first. I’m sure she just didn’t know, let’s not throw her under the bus.” You looked up at Jack with pleading eyes, taking your phone from his hand. 

Behind you, Trevor crossed his arms as he shook his head. “Don’t defend her-”

“I’m not defending her.” You cut him off, your voice raising slightly. “I-I’m just saying, let’s not snitch. Let me talk to her, woman to woman. I’m sure she’ll take it down.” Jack let out a heavy sigh, stepping back slightly to silently give you permission to talk to her. You nodded your head, glancing over to Trevor and Cole with a small smile before making your way out of the room. You didn’t realize how drunk you truly were until you started making your way down the hall. The adrenaline of seeing the post had sobered you up, but only for a split second. You stumbled your way down the stairs, your grip on the railing firm as the room began to spin around you. You stood at the bottom step, scanning the basement for Adelaide. You finally found her standing by the kitchen counter, her blonde hair now tied in a low bun to reveal her gorgeous collarbone. You pouted slightly, seeing how perfect she looked knowing that you were a hot, drunk mess. You made your way towards her, repeating affirmations to yourself as you built up your confidence. When you reached her, a smile grew across her face almost immediately. 

“Hey, Y/n!” She exclaimed, her tone happy. “I haven’t seen you all night.” You sent her a sheepish smile, anxiously playing with your necklace again.

You brushed a piece of hair behind your ear, trying to find that confidence you were meant to have. “I know! It’s so crazy in here.” You let out a forced laugh, trying to hide your nervousness, which she mirrored quickly. “Listen, I gotta talk to you about something.” She tilted her head, sending you a closed mouthed smile as she reached for her drink. She took a sip, silently waiting for you to speak. “This um…this picture you posted of me and Jack. I-I know you mean well, but we do like to keep that part of our lives private.”

Adelaide placed her drink on the counter, her eyes widening as she covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh my! I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.” You let out a sigh of relief and a teeth-showing smile at her response. 

“It is totally fine.” You said, letting out a relieving laugh. “Just, with the media it’s kind of hard.”

She nodded her head, gracing you with a smile. “I totally understand that.” Your smile grew wider, wondering why this was so hard for you to do in the first place.

“Yeah, so if you could just take it down-”

“Oh, no.” She cut you off. Your smile quickly faded as you stared at her. Her fake smile still plastered on her face. 

You let out a nervous laugh, gripping onto your necklace. “I-I…uh.” You paused, clearing your throat. “What?”

She picked her drink back up, raising her eyebrows. “It looks good on my instagram. Plus, you and Jack look super cute. Don’t stress it.” She laughed, letting her grin go wide. “There’s so many pictures of you and Quinn on the internet, so what’s one with Jack?” She shrugged her shoulders passive aggressively as she walked away into the crowd. You were left standing there in pure shock. Your mouth dropped, your arms falling limp to your side as you tried to process what just happened. The tension in your chest tightened as her words replayed in your mind. The dismissiveness, the fake sweetness masking her clear intentions, it hit you like a gut punch. You were rooted to your spot, staring at where she’d disappeared in the crowd. Your fingers still toyed with your necklace, a nervous habit you couldn’t seem to shake. She was jealous. You’d never even thought of the idea that maybe Adelaide would be a little shaken up by staying in the house with her boyfriend’s childhood fling. You assumed Quinn kept his mouth shut about the two of you, considering he never cared about you that much. What did he tell her? What could he have possibly said to her that would make her want to put you and Jack on blast to the internet? 

Suddenly, you felt a pair of hands land on your shoulders. “How’d it go?” You heard Cole’s voice shout through your ear, but still not enough to knock you from your state. You couldn’t even move to look at him, your gaze centered on the crowd.

“I-um…” You cleared your throat. “She said no.” You said flatly. 

Cole moved his head closer to yours, glancing at you with a side eye. “No?” You knocked yourself out of your daze, turning fully to face him. 

“She’s jealous.” You said quietly, leaning in closer so he could hear you. “Said there’s so many photos of me and Quinn, so why not have one with Jack.” Cole’s mouth gaped open in shock, no one expecting her to say no. He was speechless, unaware of what to say in this moment. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Jack walking closer, a stern expression on his face. You let out a sigh of defeat, waiting for him to walk over.

Jack could sense the tension as he stared between you and Cole. “What happened?” He asked, the sentence coming out more as a statement than a question. You crossed your arms, your fingers digging into your sides as you glanced at Cole. He still looked too stunned to speak, his mouth opening and closing like he was trying to find words that just wouldn’t come. Jack’s gaze didn’t waver from you, his brow furrowed in concern as he waited for your answer.

“She said no,” You finally said, your voice flat and devoid of emotion. You clenched your jaw, betraying your anger that simmered just below the surface. 

Jack blinked, his confusion quickly shifting to irritation. “She what?”

“She’s jealous.” Cole interrupted, his words finally making their way out. “She’s using you to show people that Bunny’s with you and not Quinn…I think?” Jack stared at you for a moment, processing what Cole just said. Then he muttered a curse under his breath, running a hand through his hair as he turned slightly away, his frustration evident in every movement. “Unbelievable.”

“Hey, guys!” Quinn yelled from the couch, turning down the music. You clenched your jaw at the sound, watching Trevor walk up behind Cole. “Come over here with us.” You scanned the couch seeing Adelaide, Quinn, Brock, and Bella all squished onto the couch. Nico and Jesper sat next to each other on the floor while Elias sat across from them. Luke pranced his way to the big chair, pulling the brunette from earlier down with him. You bit the inside of your cheek, not knowing what to do at this moment. 

“What’d I miss?” You heard Trevor whisper into Cole’s ear. 

“Not good.” Cole mumbled back.

You jolted slightly at the feel of Jack’s hand intertwining with yours. He took a sip from his beer bottle before pulling you to the living area with him, Trevor and Cole following close behind. Everyone in the room had their gaze centered on the four of you as you silently made your way over. Quinn was staring especially hard at your hand intertwined with Jack’s. He let go of your hand to allow you to take your seat on the floor in between himself and Trevor. The room felt like it was holding its breath, everyone’s gaze locked on you and Jack as you sat down. The tension was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. You couldn’t help but notice the way Quinn’s jaw tightened, his hand resting on the back of the couch near Adelaide but clenched just enough to betray his irritation. Your eyes darted around the room, trying not to make eye contact with anyone as the anxiety rose through your body. 

Quinn cleared his throat as he shifted in his seat. “We’re gonna play truth or dare,” He said, causing Jack’s eyebrows to knot. “Addy’s idea.” You glanced over to Adelaide who sent you a shit eating grin, like she had you in this perfect trap designed specifically for you. 

“Isn’t this a kids game?” You said, taking a sip of Jack’s beer bottle. 

Quinn scoffed, rolling his eyes slightly before looking back at you. “It’ll be like old times.” You felt a lump in your throat as your heart dropped, but you were quick to swallow it down. Jack’s arm moved to cross behind your back, not quite making contact with your skin, but it was enough to make your heart race. Quinn went first, daring Brock to take three shots in under ten seconds which he failed miserably at. Brock asked Elias to tell the story of how he lost his virginity.

“I was fifteen, after a school dance in my car. It was terrible.” 

Elias asked Luke to tell the craziest story about Quinn in high school.

“Well when Bunny was sixteen-”

“He said tell a story about Quinn, not Bunny.” Jack was quick to interrupt at your defense. Luke told a story about Quinn getting drunk and trying to climb up the house to his bedroom window. Luke then dared Trevor to let him draw a dick on his face, which Trevor was drunk enough to be excited about. You laughed hard when Trevor turned to face you, a realistic looking cock on his forehead with the cheesiest grin you’d ever seen. Trevor asked Cole to tell the room his celebrity crush.

“Weak question. Meryl Streep. Love a good gilf.”

“Gross, Cole.”

Cole dared Nico to share his last google search with the group.

“Nico Hischer sexy tweets? That’s insane.” 

Nico turned to Adelaide, who picked truth. He asked her what the most expensive gift Quinn had bought her was, and her eyes beamed like this was the question she’d been dying to answer. 

“Probably my Louboutins.” 

Your heart dropped when her gaze centered on you, a smug smile wiped across her face. You kept your expression stern, wanting to show her that you weren’t intimidated. 

“Truth or Dare?” She asked, a hint of aggressiveness behind her voice.

You took another sip of Jack’s beer, letting your legs come uncrossed as you leaned back on your hands. “Dare.” Jack, Trevor, and Cole all let out small but noticeable sighs. They knew you only said dare because you were drunk and determined, and they all wished you would just keep your mouth shut at that moment. 

Adelaide let out a soft laugh, like she had you exactly where she wanted. “I dare you…” She paused, letting her words hang in the air knowing it would cause you more anxiety. “No-” She said, causing your brows to furrow. “I dare you and Jack,” The words sent a shiver down your spine, knowing you couldn’t back out. “To go into the closet for seven minutes in heaven.” Jack groaned quietly as you bit the inside of your cheek. The circle boomed with laughs and whistles. Everyone had a smile plastered on their face except for you, Jack, Cole, Trevor, and shockingly Quinn. The laughter and whistles of the group felt deafening as Adelaide’s smug expression deepened. Jack shifted uncomfortably beside you, running a hand through his hair as his cheeks flushed. 

You exhaled sharply, masking your nerves with a nonchalant shrug. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.” Your voice was steady, but your heart was racing as you stood up. Jack’s eyes flickered to yours for a brief moment, searching your face for some kind of reassurance or escape. Finding none, he reluctantly stood too, stuffing his hands in his pockets. 

“Seven minutes,” Adelaide chirped with a saccharine sweetness, glancing at her phone as she set the timer. “Don’t keep us waiting.” The closet door swung open, and you stepped inside, Jack following closely behind. The space was tight, filled with jackets that smelled faintly of cologne and laundry detergent. The door clicked shut, plunging you into darkness save for a thin sliver of light from the bottom. Not being able to see in the darkness, you pulled out your phone.

“What are you doing?” Jack asked, his tone curious as his frame towered over you.

You bit your nails, opening up messages. “Texting the groupchat.”

You: okay it’s official i hate this bitch.

Cole: You should see the smile on her face rn

Trevor: Yeah she looks like pennywise kinda

You: just glad me and trevor were right for once 🥳

Trevor: Me and Cole will try to brainstorm some good revenge plots

Cole: Yeah you guys just thug out your seven minutes

Trevor: In heaven

Jack: Fuck off Trevor.

You sighed, putting your phone in your pocket. The room was dark again as you and Jack stood, facing each other. The closet was tiny and you didn’t realize how close the two of you were until you felt his breath on your forehead. It sent shivers down your spine almost immediately as you tried to keep yourself content. The tension in the closet was palpable as the soft sound of Jack shifting his weight echoed in the cramped space. You felt his hesitation as much as your own, the unspoken words swirling between you like a storm. His breath, warm and close, made your stomach twist in a way you couldn’t quite decipher. 

“I don’t know what to do…” You let out. “in this weird situation with her.” Jack let out a hard sigh, which you felt against your skin. 

“Just- don’t think about it.” He said gently, his hand hovering over yours. “Use this time as your distraction from the night.” He had fully enveloped your hand at this point, slowly moving closer towards you. You couldn’t see, but his face was plastered with a bright red tint when you began rubbing circles against his hand. The sounds of laughter erupted from the living room, muffled but still noticeable. In just two seconds, all that noise faded into the background as you felt Jack squeeze your hand. You could feel the heat from his body as he moved closer, your chests almost clashing together. 

“I-Is this weird?” You asked, your voice just barely above a whisper as you felt yourself gravitating towards him.

“Is what weird?” He mumbled. You felt your breath hitch as your faces now sat merely inches apart. You stood on your tiptoes, trying to get closer. 

“This.” You whispered, your lips so close to touching as Jack moved an unexpected hand to your waist, a touch that sent hard palpitations to your heart. 

Jack let out another breath, his thumb now tracing circles against your hip. “Does it feel right?”

You bit your bottom lip, shutting your eyes at the feeling of his voice vibrating against your face. “Mhm,” You let out, nodding your head. 

“Then, no. It’s not weird.” He whispered, ghosting his words against your lips. The hand that was holding yours moved up to your face, cupping it gently. Your stomach twisted at the touch, gently leaning in closer. Your knees closed together, as if keeping them open would unleash every sexual feeling that had been building up for the past ten years. You felt your heart almost beat out of your chest as Jack finally closed the space between the two of you, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. It was hesitant at first, like he was waiting for your permission, but you quickly kissed him back, biting his bottom lip gently. Endless hours of flirtatious teasing, watching you swoon over Quinn, it all led up to this moment. The kiss quickly grew hungrier as Jack’s hands pulled you closer by your waist, tasting every lick of the satisfaction he’d yearned for all these years. Your hands moved to the back of his neck, letting your fingers explore his hair as he moved closer against you. The kiss was slow at first, but quickly intensified when you felt his tongue swipe your bottom lip. You opened your mouth, allowing his tongue to enter as he devoured every inch of you. He pushed you up against the wall, his pelvis absentmindedly grinding against you which caused a slight moan to escape from the back of your throat. You felt your stomach tingle as a flood rushed to your panties, moving your hands to grip his shirt. Jack’s lips moved in a way that was perfectly catered to you, like it was something you needed but never knew. His hands made their way up your body, one settling on your back to cradle you. His tongue pushed further into your mouth, almost reaching towards your throat. His other hand found its way to your thigh, slowly reaching up your dress to toy with the string of your underwear, twisting it with his finger against your skin. He pulled back only the slightest amount, his lips ghosting yours. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” He whispered against your lips, the feel of his breath causing you to shudder, growing hungrier by the second. You weren’t thinking about Adelaide or Quinn, your mind was only on Jack and how bad you realized you wanted him.

“I need you.” You whispered back, your lips growing dry from his absence. “Please,” Jack didn’t waste any time before crashing his lips back onto yours, moving more intensely than before. The kisses became sloppy, like he was starving for this feeling his entire life. His fingers made their way down, just barely touching your folds through the fabric of your panties. You let out a heavy breath through the kiss, silently begging him to keep going as he teased you slightly. He bit down on your bottom lip as he moved the fabric to the side, revealing every inch of yourself. You whined slightly at his touch, finding yourself in this moment of vulnerability you’d never expected to have with Jack. His finger lightly brushed over your heat, testing the waters as you ran your hand through his hair to pull him closer. 

“Can I-”

“Yes, please.” You said eagerly before pulling his lips back onto yours. Jack moved his hands to the strings of your panties, slowly pulling them down to your shaking knees, not removing his lips from yours once. Your hand was now fully tangled in his hair, the other on his back to pull him closer. Jack wasted no time before allowing a finger to enter your cunt, feeling the wetness that was made just for him. You let out a soft, quiet whimper against his lips as he gently explored your walls. He pumped his finger in and out slowly, removing his lips from yours to plant kisses on your neck. You leaned your head back, breathing heavily as his thumb made contact with your clit. “Jack,” You whispered. Never in your life did you expect to have any part of him inside of you, but now that you were here, you couldn’t imagine your life without it. 

“You have no idea what this fuckin’ dress does to me.” He mumbled softly against your skin.

“Fuck.” You let out quietly as he entered another finger, filling you in just the right way. Your fingers tugged at his hair, pulling him closer as his motions grew faster. Your legs locked around his fingers, his other hand finding its way under your dress to your breast. He continued pumping in and out of you, his thumb circling your clit as he reconnected his lips with yours. He felt your insides, like it was a forbidden place he’d been waiting so long to explore. His hand made its way under your bra, squeezing your breast gently. You tried to silence yourself, but it was becoming more and more difficult with every thrust of his fingers. You felt yourself reaching peak, which was shocking in such a small amount of time. Something about the way Jack moved around your body, touching every spot in the exact right spot. “I’m gonna come.” You whispered, pulling back slightly. 

He grinned as he moved his mouth down to your collarbone, placing gentle kisses across your neckline. “Let go for me, bunny.” His motions intensified, your breaths growing heavier by the second. He nibbled slightly against your skin, but not enough to leave marks. You let out a quiet moan as you finally released your juices around his fingers, letting him ride you out until the end of your climax. Your chest rose and fell heavily as Jack removed his fingers, taking them to his mouth. Both of you wished you could see each other’s faces at this moment, but the closet was pitch black. Years of suppressed feelings you didn’t even know you had, all spilled out onto Jack Hughes’ fingers. He moved his hands down to your knees to pull up your panties, your hands still tangled in his hair. “You alright?” He asked, his voice quiet but audible.

You removed your hands from his hair, letting your body fall back on the wall. Your breathing was still heavy, but you managed to speak. “Yeah,” You whispered. “I-I’m good- that was…” You paused for a second, your face quickly capturing a wide grin. “That was amazing.” Jack let out a sigh of relief, a smile growing on his face as he leaned in to kiss you again. It was gentle, allowing it to last for only a few seconds.

He pulled back, his hand coming up to cradle your face. “Listen, Bunny-”

“Seven minutes is up!” The door jolted open, causing you and Jack to quickly separate as Trevor stood in the doorway. He glanced between the two of you, a wide smile growing across his face as he took in the sight. You both looked rough, your hair messy, clothes not exactly straight. He let a small laugh escape his lips as he held the door open. “No way.” Was all he said before Jack rolled his eyes, giving Trevor a hit to the shoulder as he made his way back to the living room. You stood there in shock, running a hand through your now frizzy hair as you looked at Trevor. “That good, huh?” He asked, a sly grin across his face. You rolled your eyes, throwing your hair up into a ponytail as you made your way out of the closet.

“Shut up, asshole.” You mumbled, causing a giggle to erupt from Trevor. Trevor’s laugh followed you as you stepped back into the circle, your cheeks burning under the weight of everyone’s stares. You refused to meet Adelaide’s gaze, knowing her smug smile was probably plastered across her face. Instead, you focused on Jack, who had taken a seat on the couch and was pointedly scrolling through his phone, avoiding eye contact with anyone. You sighed, wanting him to look up for just one second, but his entire face was red and his lips were puffing out. “So,” you broke the silence. “Who's next?” 

Quinn looked up at you, biting the inside of his cheek as Adelaide shifted her weight onto him. “I’m going to bed.” He said flatly before leaving his spot on the couch, Adelaide following close behind, giving you a wink before walking up the stairs. The tension in the air was thick as you took a seat next to Jack, his arm absentmindedly draping over your shoulders which caused your heart to drop. Cole and Trevor both had wide eyes, looking at you and Jack, then to each other. Little by little, everyone made their way out of the house, the party simmering down as you and Jack stayed in your own little world. He scrolled through his phone as your eyes grew tired, falling asleep against his body. Luke took his new ‘friend’ up to his room by the end of the night, Bella and Brock left shortly after with Elias following behind, then finally Jesper and Nico passed out on the floor of the kitchen. It was just you, Jack, Cole, and Trevor left downstairs. The living room had quieted down to the faint hum of music playing in the background and the occasional clink of empty bottles being cleaned up. Jack’s arm remained draped over your shoulders, his phone still glowing in his hand as he scrolled absentmindedly. You felt his warmth against your side, your head resting against him as your eyelids grew heavier. Across the room, Trevor and Cole exchanged another round of wide-eyed glances, their smirks only growing. Trevor leaned closer to Cole and muttered something, and Cole stifled a laugh, though it wasn’t quiet enough to go unnoticed. 

“What’s so funny?” Jack asked, his voice calm but with a hint of annoyance as he finally glanced up from his phone. 

“Oh, nothing,” Trevor replied, feigning innocence, but his grin betrayed him. “Just… didn’t expect you two to get so close tonight.” 

Jack rolled his eyes but didn’t move his arm from around you, a fact that clearly wasn’t lost on Trevor. “Grow up, Zegras.”

Trevor yawned dramatically, standing up and stretching. “Well, I think that’s my cue to crash. Try not to do anything weird while I’m asleep, you two.” 

“Go away, Trevor,” you muttered, leaning in closer to Jack’s side. His hand moved to your shoulder, stroking soothing circles with his thumb.

“You wanna go to bed, Bunny?” He asked quietly, leaning his head against yours. You nodded your head slightly, sitting up to let Jack stand. Jack stood up, offering you a hand to help you off the couch. His movements were slow, almost hesitant, as if he didn’t want to disturb the calm bubble the two of you had created. You took his hand, your legs a little wobbly from the unspoken moment in the closet as you followed him toward the stairs. Behind you, Cole gave a low whistle, and Trevor made a mockingly loud kissing sound. “Goodnight, children,” Jack deadpanned, throwing a pillow in their general direction without even turning around. You couldn’t help but grin, shaking your head as you climbed the stairs behind Jack. Once you reached the hallway, the noise of Trevor and Cole’s laughter faded, leaving just the sound of your soft footsteps. Jack led you into his bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind him. Without you having to ask, he went to his dresser to pull out a Devils t-shirt and a pair of shorts for you to wear. You smiled at the gesture through your sleepy eyes, taking the clothes from his hand. 

“I um…” Jack paused, looking towards you as you held the clothes close. “I wanna talk about it.” He said quietly. You smiled at him, taking a seat at the edge of the bed. He followed close behind, sitting down next to you. His thigh brushed against yours as he looked into your eyes, taking your hand in his. “Bunny, I-” He took a moment to gather his thoughts, letting out a sigh. “I care about you. Like, a lot.” Vulnerability wiped across his face as you sat next to him, brushing your thumb back and forth on his hand. Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the weight of his vulnerability washing over you. Jack wasn’t someone who usually wore his emotions on his sleeve, and seeing him like this, nervous and sincere, made your chest tighten in the best way.

“I care about you too, Jack,” you said softly, your voice steady even though your heart felt like it was racing. 

He let out a breath, like he’d been holding it since he started speaking. “I mean, I really care about you,” he clarified, his eyes locking onto yours. “It’s not just… I don’t know how to explain it. You’re not just my friend. You’ve never been just my friend.” The room felt impossibly small, the air between you charged with emotions neither of you had fully acknowledged until now. His hand tightened slightly around yours, like he was afraid you might pull away. 

“Jack,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” 

He let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Because I didn’t want to mess things up. You’re my best friend, Bunny. And you always had this annoyingly huge crush on Quinn, which pissed me off more than it should because he just tore you down over and over again. if you didn’t feel the same, I didn’t want to ruin… this.” He gestured vaguely between the two of you, his cheeks tinged pink. 

You smiled, your thumb continuing to brush against his hand. “You’re an idiot, you know that?” His brows furrowed, and he opened his mouth to respond, but you didn’t let him. Instead, you leaned in, closing the small gap between you and pressing your lips softly against his. Jack froze for a moment, his brain clearly trying to catch up with what was happening. But then his free hand came up to cup your cheek, pulling you closer as he kissed you back. It wasn’t hurried or desperate like before, it was warm and gentle, filled with all the unspoken feelings he’d been holding onto for so long. 

When you finally pulled away, his eyes searched yours, a mix of disbelief and relief written all over his face. “So… does this mean you feel the same?” 

You laughed softly, resting your forehead against his. “What do you think, genius?”

Jack’s lips curved into a smile, his confidence returning now that the weight of uncertainty had lifted. “I think I should’ve said something a long time ago.”

“Well,” you teased, your voice light, “better late than never.”

He chuckled, leaning back slightly but not letting go of your hand. “So… are you still okay sharing the bed? Or should I take the couch now that this is out in the open?”

You rolled your eyes, standing up to change into the clothes he’d given you. “You’re not going anywhere, Hughes.” Jack laughed quietly, lying back on the bed with his hands behind his head as he watched you. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

As you climbed into bed next to him, he pulled you close, his arm wrapping around your waist. For the first time that night, the tension melted away, replaced by a sense of calm and certainty that you hadn’t felt before. And as you drifted off to sleep in Jack’s arms, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something even better than you could’ve imagined.

[lavendermatchastrife]

Raw, Next Question

Warnings: 18+ mdni, sexual content, pining, nerd-jo, virgin!gojo, goth!reader, chubby!reader, non-specified poc!reader, au, non-canon, gojo down bad, oral fixation, very slight blood play, pretty much porn with very little plot

Summary: you confide in your best friend about your recent, less than pleasing love life, maybe there’s something he can do about it!!

a/n: you can try to pry certified munch!gojo from my cold dead hands but I promise you wouldn’t get very far. sorry for disappearing, life is just not going my way lately 🥲

Word count: 12719

 The sound of a clock ticking in the corner of the classroom could be heard as Gojo’s class waited for the end of a very tiring school day. Long grey blinds swayed as a gentle breeze blew in from the cracked windows, a ray of sunlight beamed across the room and illuminated his desk in an almost ethereal light. The man himself was certainly angelic, the light only highlighted his delicate features. A pensive expression showed on his face, his thin silver rimmed glasses pushed firm against his wrinkled bridge. Wispy snow-white hair pushed up and out of his face. His class eyed him curiously as he nibbled on his thumb while he appeared to be staring (rather unprofessionally) daggers into his smartphone. What could he be looking at that had him so tense?

 “You good, Mr. Gojo?” His student, Yuji Itadori, piped up just as the final bell rang. As if pulled from his thoughts, Gojo snapped his head up and beamed a wide smile in response to Yuji.

 “Of course, never been better.” He shot a quick glance down at his phone, his screen still open. Yuji gathered his items, a cheeky grin on his face while he waved goodbye to Gojo who was still looking at his phone. He was rereading a sequence of messages between the both of you, hoping he wasn’t dreaming. What had he gotten himself into?

Pretty Girl: Satoru, I think I’m done dating for good.

Gojo: whatttt?!?!! 😨

Pretty Girl: guys r so nasty, just broke up with Naoya. put up w him longgg enough 😚

Gojo: oh shit fr?! What’d he do this time

Pretty Girl: pissed I wouldn’t let him hit it raw, yelled at me so I sent his ass home.

Gojo: need me to give him the ol’ one two

Gojo: jk, that’s actually really shitty :( wanna hang out n take ur mind offa things???

Pretty Girl: yes 🥺 ice cream pls

Pretty Girl: and Twilight

Pretty Girl: ughhh the more that I think about it the more pissed I get, like why couldn’t he just be happy with me. Am I boring Satoru?

Gojo: ur a snoozefest 🙄

Gojo: no, we have a great time together. He couldn’t handle allat anyways

Pretty Girl: what like you could?

Gojo: duh 

Pretty Girl: then prove it later

Gojo: say sike rn

Pretty Girl: I’m single n ready to mingle 😝

Gojo: k, ur in for it

 Gojo groaned and slammed his head against his desk. How would he even pull this off? It’s not like he was some seasoned veteran. He’d never even held hands with anyone other than you, let alone kissed anyone before. (That’s a lie, you were his first kiss back in college, albeit a drunken one.) How was he supposed to have sex with you? He ruffled his already unruly hair, then smothered his head into the aged mahogany further. As confident as he tried to appear, Gojo was not only a loser; but a virgin. Almost as untainted as the day he was brought into the world.

 He knew all about your (sex)capades, your list of boyfriends, your summer flings. It wasn’t like you had very many, you were just trying to enjoy yourself. There was no shame in that, you were a grown woman. You had needs. He was the ever supportive and faithful friend, your shoulder to cry on. If someone broke up with you after sleeping with you, he was right there with a tub of ice cream and a stack of your favorite DVD’s. You fell in love easily, it didn’t take long for you to move on, much to Gojo’s dismay. Him being in love with you was a secret, well a secret from you. Anyone around you both could see how he felt about you, everyone but you got the clue. He was just shy from sprouting a wagging tail and perked ears in your presence.

 If you were crying over a boy it was always: “Satoru, what do they have that I don’t?” “Satoru, you’re such a great guy, why can’t my boyfriend be like you?” “Satoru, what am I doing wrong?” Every time he wanted to shake some sense into you. You should be with me! He’d yell at you in his head, only to spew out some nonsense about just not having found the right person yet. You’d sniffle, and cuddle him all night but that was the extent of the comfort he’d given you. If it was up to him, he’d wine and dine you. He didn’t have experience with women outside of his colleagues, but he knew how to treat a lady at least. He’d seen quite a few movies, read the right books, listened to your complaints enough to know what you would want in a partner. What you deserved. He could just never find the right moment to confess. Would you even accept his confession?

 You’d sleep with him at least. Which is more than he’d ever even dreamt of. A fact he replayed in his head now that he could finally leave his stuffy classroom.

 On any normal day, Gojo would take his time leaving from his busy work day. He’d stay over, grade some papers, work on his lesson plans, go over his notes for the day. Anything to make his work life easier and set his kids up for success. It wasn’t a normal day however, not with you waiting for him. He was rushing out of the school as fast as he could. If no one needed him then what was the harm in leaving a little earlier? 

 The sight of him was comical, other teachers watched in confusion as he sped through the hallways. He’d brushed off anyone that called out to him sorry later, I’m really busy, determined to make it home in record time. He paid no mind to his bag that was hastily stuffed with papers, on the brink of spilling out. His tie loosened, his hair a mess from the constant nervous tugging he’d been doing. He forgot about his lunch box in the teachers lounge. If he thought about it hard enough, he was pretty sure he had plans with a few of his coworkers to go out for drinks later that night, too. That didn’t matter to him, he was sure they’d understand.

 His face flushed when he finally made it to his car, he threw his bag into the backseat and checked his phone for any more messages from you. There were a few unopened, and for the life of him he couldn’t get his phone to unlock fast enough.

Pretty Girl: I’m actually nervous now, are you sure you wanna do this 🫠

Pretty Girl: imma shave just in case

Pretty Girl: wait r you ok w that, what do u prefer?

Pretty Girl: fuck it ill just shave 

 Gojo didn’t stop the dorky smile from spreading across his face. He could tell you were nervous you didn’t have to say anything. He was glad to know that you were probably just as worked up as he was because it took a little bit of the pressure off of his shoulders. He didn’t know what you were expecting, but you had to know that he was lacking in the sexual encounters department. You were extremely open, maybe you weren’t a prolific kiss and teller, but you made sure to tell your best friend all about your experiences. There was no harm in it as long as Gojo didn’t mind, which he didn’t. It’s not like he had the balls to pursue you anyhow. 

 One thing he knew about you was that you were incredibly sensitive, incredibly needy, and just a touch insecure.

 In his mind you were perfect, what could there possibly be about you that warranted the insecurity? He’d seen your figure during countless trips to the beach, your revealing bikinis didn’t leave much to the imagination. If it wasn’t a small piece of fabric strung around your curves, then it was a tight one piece. You’d taken him panty shopping, trying things on to ask for his opinion from a man’s perspective. You were clueless to how crazy you drove him, as you’d twirl and snap the strings on your lingerie. He was thankful that he was the first one to see you in your purchase, even if it wasn’t for him. (Little did he know that you never wore anything he picked out around anyone.) (A fact you tried desperately to keep to yourself.

 Despite him loving every part of you from your curves, to the fat on your tummy, the expanse of your thighs. He loved more than your body, he loved the way you style your hair, the care you put into your makeup and appearance, the way you walked. He loved that regardless of the circumstance you’d always put 100% into your outfit when going out. You were well groomed, something he didn’t know he even wanted in a partner. He’d paid for your nails more times than he can count (or rather, care to remember), treated you to the spa just because you’d been having a rough day or week. If it wasn’t a full set of nails, it was your hair, or hell- a bag or a pair of shoes. Despite your whining about feeling bad that he’d pay for those things, he’d always brush off your concerns.

 “You wound me. I’m a former rich kid that teaches at a private school, I think I can handle you gettin’ your nails done.”

 You’d smile all shy, pushing him back by his shoulder. You’d thank him profusely, which was another thing he loved. The constant praises you’d wash over him, the smiles, the appreciation. You weren’t spoiled or expectant, but forever grateful. The boost to his ego at being the one to bring out those emotions and sweet words was much too thrilling. It was no wonder that he fell in love with you. 

 What was to be expected however, were your boyfriends being extremely jealous whenever he’d do those things for you. Even if they weren’t willing to cough up the money, it wounded their pride to no end. You’d called Gojo on many occasions, crying over a fight you’d gotten into all because of the new purse he’d bought you. Or over a necklace you had been wanting. Her partners would argue that he was doing boyfriend things to a taken woman, but what was the point of being pissed off just because they were too broke to take care of you? That wasn’t his fault.

 On his way home, he couldn’t help himself as he pulled into your favorite store, he had already picked up the ice cream you wanted. It was a cozy small business that wove their own jewelry, he figured a cute bracelet or a dainty anklet would do for a quick pick me up. 

 He chose an anklet the color of his eyes, and then a white bracelet as a cheeky bonus, whistling as he walked through the isles. Why not get both?  After all, you were hard at work all week. You just broke up with one of your longer relationships, right after a shift no less. You deserve something nice for yourself. The cashier greeted him, recognizing him as a regular of theirs. The younger woman bashfully rang his items, her face warm and posture nervous. When Gojo walked away with his purchase slung over his shoulder in its small paper bag, a large sigh tumbled from her mouth.

 He continued to whistle the same tune, stopping by a florist that was in the same outlet. The older woman tending to the arrangements greeted him, welcoming him in and recognizing him from his frequent visits. She was a nosy woman, and prided herself in being the store in the plaza that he frequented the most. She’d secretly display flowers that he was more inclined to go for, he shopped in patterns, just in case he’d stop by for the day. The chances were very high, he loved to give you flowers more than anything. Your smile when you’d take them from him carefully, and cradle them as you gushed at how pretty they were, was his favorite.

 She sang a small song as she waited for Gojo to pick his arrangement for the day, and her gut was right yet again as he picked out something she’d placed on his dedicated shelf. She sprung to check him out, “Will that be all for you? Would you like a card? Would you like these wrapped?”

 “I’d love that black vase behind you, actually.” He was already fishing his card from his wallet, swiping without a care as she checked him out. He generously tipped her, and thanked her with a wave of his bouquet.

 The walk to his car was short, and he made it home just in time for you to text him that you were on your way. He was breathless as the reality sunk in. He scrambled to freshen himself up.

 You lived twenty minutes away, which was just enough time to scrub his long day off of him and arrange his gift on his kitchen countertop. Right as he was grabbing some water for later, and placing it in his sleek modern fridge he heard keys jingling outside of his door. He quickly threw the bottles into his fridge, and jogged to open the door before you could unlock it yourself. You took his breath away as usual, you’d curled the ends of your hair. Your makeup was minimal, a smoky look with a dark brown lip, his favorite combo. Your keys were raised as if you were about to insert them, your hand frozen into place as you stared up at him with wide eyes. You were surprised, but more than that you were desperately unprepared to see him this soon and this close. You’d worked yourself up on the way over, nerves through the roof as the gravity of your situation unraveled before you as well. While you panicked, he continued to take you in.

 A tight black sweater, the sleeves draped across your shoulders exposing them to the slightly cooler air, and a long black and brown argyle skirt hugged high on your hips and stopped at your mid-shins. Black chunky platforms brought you closer to him. You wore thin glasses that were sat pushed against the bridge of your nose. A dainty necklace sparkled at the base of your neck, and when he realized it was something he’d bought for you a couple years back he beamed down at you. You were gonna get it later, he tapped his foot in anticipation as his gaze caught onto your clavicle. Sensually exposed, he wanted to kiss it so bad.

 You cleared your throat, bringing your wrist slowly back towards yourself. As your lips pursed he drank those in as well, his imaginary tail swishing faster with his growing excitement at seeing you. You were close enough for him to smell your perfume. A scent he’d said he liked, as a passing comment when you tried it out at a store a couple of months back. You were so gonna get it. You bobbed on your heels as you waited for him to let you inside, he was so obviously checking you out it was making the heat from your core travel to your cheeks.

 “Satoru…it’s cold.” You laughed as he hastily brought you inside, his eagerness endearing and refreshing. Especially considering the lack of romance in your life for the last six months, despite the fact that you’d been seeing someone. Gojo was apologizing, warming your shoulders up as he steered you into his living room. He placed you onto his plush couch, and you sighed as you sunk into the white expanse. 

 “Hey there,” he finally said as he sat next to you. He placed his gifts into your lap, pinching your cheek when a grin overtook your features. “You’re cute.”

 “Uh,” you began, clearing your throat as you opened the small paper bag. “Satoru, I love this shop. You remembered? Awe, the colors!” You didn’t hesitate to clip the bracelet onto your wrist, the beads in varying shades of white and a very light purple. You admired it, stroking it and turning the beads in their places, appreciating the work. The flowers had a heavy aroma, it was of course a dark blue and black arrangement. The anklet sat in your lap, and when you went to take off your shoes Gojo stopped you.

 “Lemme do that, later.” His smug request brought further heat to your cheeks, and your shy nod made him clench into his thigh. He was feeling his resolve starting to crumble, he was planning to take his time because he wanted this so bad and he adored you. But that was proving to be difficult the more time that passed between you. It hadn’t been long since he’d opened his door to you, however it was starting to feel like an eternity. “You hungry?” He asked, starting to get up from where he was seated. He felt the light blue sweater he wore being tugged, the gentle grip from your hand pulling him back down.

 He was dressed in loose pajama pants, grey ones that didn’t hide much. His excitement was apparent, and you could tell he was going to be a little difficult to manage. Even though you couldn’t see him, you could see his growing arousal, and boy was it on the bigger side. A silver chain, something simple, hung around his neck. It was a gift from you for his birthday last year.

 “Satoru,” the way you whined, leaning back as you drew his name out, made his breath catch onto the back of his throat. “I’m hungry.” You said, turning your head to the side to expose the expanse of your neck. It looked delicious and he didn’t hesitate to take in your pulse and the scent of you as he immediately buried his face into your neck. He placed a light kiss against the thrumming in your neck, it only grew in its rapid dance. “Want dessert before dinner, please.” You pleaded with him, hiking your leg up and around his hip just to pull him over you. Your skirt rose, exposing your leg over his hip. Your platform dug into his side. It felt incredible while he lapped and kissed your neck further.

 “Just a lil’ taste, don’t wanna ruin your appetite.” He agreed, reaching back to pull off your clunky shoes. They thudded heavily behind him, and even though it turned you on you immediately chastised him.

 “Those were expensive! Be careful!” Your pout down at him was beyond adorable, you tucked your chin as you drew your eyebrows inward. He nodded, not arguing with you, and he pushed your legs back against your sides. It felt awkward as your long skirt pushed up your hips as a result.

 “I’m sorry, sweet girl. I’ll get you another pair to make up for it. I’ll be careful from now on, promise.” He leaned down to kiss your knee, and then brought the leg that was closest to the edge of the couch up. Up as he rose back again and he gently kissed your ankle. Your skin smelled like his favorite scrub, something sweet and floral. Your toes were recently done, shiny black polish that he paid for. Your skin was smooth, and he was a little too excited to reach for the anklet he bought you and clip it into place. He kissed it once again, before wrapping it around his hip. Gods he didn’t know what he was doing, when he was going to take things further, what you liked. But this felt like it was going well. He had to be doing something right as he drank in your panting form, excitement written all over your face.

 “Wait, Satoru,” you gently pushed him back, just as he was about to lean down. He was inching your skirt further above your hips, exposing your thighs and lower tummy. Soft skin that he rubbed and soothed as he waited for you to continue, “I’m actually really hungry.” You covered your face in embarrassment as your stomach rumbled almost on cue. He laughed then, a loud surprised one as he looked down at you with such fondness. His gaze soft as he still leaned down, and placed a searing kiss over the front of your panties. A skimpy sheer black pair, he placed his lips over the small black bow in the center. You gasped, raking your fingers in his hair, desperately trying not to buck up. You were so needy, he hadn’t even touched the sensitive part you wanted him to. But the anticipation made it feel like he did.

 “Sure, whatever you want, sweet girl.” He brought your skirt back down, helped sit you up as you fixed your hair. You waited patiently for him to fix you something up, and you felt bad as you watched him walk around his kitchen with his obvious hard on. It wasn’t going away, no matter how focused he was on the task at hand. He was bringing you a tray of snacks, some fruit, some chocolate, some pretzels. (Practically poked your eye out in the process) God he knew you so well, knew exactly what you wanted when you wanted it. He’d been with you for so long, watching you and taking note. It was borderline creepy, he scared himself if he was being honest.

 You happily munched on the snacks he brought you, the tension in the air still buzzing but slowly being consumed by a different feeling. He was over spilling with affection for you as you flipped through the channels on his new television, laughing along as you landed on your favorite sitcom. Corny jokes easing the tension in your shoulders, this is what he wanted from you more than anything. Security, comfortability. He was happy to provide you with whatever you wanted or needed so long as you kept smiling around him. 

 You finally let yourself calm down, in truth while you were hungry you were really just scared. Not of Gojo, never, but of your attraction for him. Scared of how fast things were going, even if you did want it. Badly. You’d always been attracted to him, you’d just never acted on it. There was no way he’d want you. So you let yourself get swept up in small romances, in pretty words and faces that promised to make you happy. They were mediocre at best, but you just couldn’t stop yourself from loving people that treated you well at first and called you pretty. Gojo fell under that category, and so much more, but you wouldn't jeopardize years of friendship. You really didn’t see all that he did was to get you to notice him, you’d thought he was just an affectionate person. Much like yourself. You didn’t understand what possessed you to proposition him that night. You’d been squashing your feelings for years, maybe it was finally getting to be too much.

 On more than one occasion, you’d have friends tell you about wanting to confess to him. To try him out, and you sincerely wished them the best. He’d rejected anyone that you knew, but even if you never saw him date anyone you didn’t think he’d never dated anyone. So as you strolled up to his home, key in hand, you prepared yourself. His experience had to be extensive, he was probably crazy in bed. You’d seen him half naked so many times through the years. Whether it was from trips together or just him unashamedly changing in front of you, you weren’t oblivious to how well built he was. There was no way he wasn’t getting any action.

 You were preparing yourself for a sex god when he laid you down, took control immediately. He moved so smoothly, so sure of himself, he had to know what he was doing. And it not only scared you, but it kind of hurt. The irrational jealousy that you weren’t going to be the first woman he ravaged despite having a couple of bodies yourself. It was funny that you stopped him because it was a little overwhelming, when he was practically the face of an untouched maiden. It was all instinct and adrenaline.

 You finally turned to face Gojo, setting your tray on the black coffee table in front of you. “Can we start in your room? I’m a little sore from being on my feet all day..” Just as your sentences came to an end, he instantly scooped you up. Up we go.~ You yelped in surprise, music to his ears, while he clambered straight towards his bedroom. 

 He kicked his door open, baby blue walls instantly greeting you. Pictures of the both of you throughout the years were scattered amongst his walls, almost taunting you with what you were about to ruin. 

 One in particular caught your attention, hung above his bed was a picture of the both of you at a mutual friend's wedding. You were each other’s plus one. You’d color coordinated, black of course. Happy that your friend was so encouraging of self expression and not superstitious. You’d danced all night, had one too many drinks. When you congratulated the happy couple, his arm was draped so he could hold onto your hip. Possessive for something that wasn’t his, and you ate it up. Reveled in his undivided attention. You danced the night away, fast or slow, it didn’t matter. As the sun began to disappear, you set your camera up, propped against a half finished Corona, you didn't have to beg him for a photo. He knew what you wanted, hugged you tightly from behind as it took a few in rapid succession. Both of you were oblivious to the bets hung in the air on when you’d finally just get it the fuck together. Take that extra leap.

 How could either of you do that though? As reluctance and insecurity shrouded your actions, it was the safest bet to just do nothing. Gojo was not an unsure man. He knew what he wanted, and he got it most of the time. Despite that fact, he was an incredibly devoted man, and knew that so much more than his feelings were on the line. He was lonely, a people pleaser, hung onto any positive reaction he could get. How could he be so selfish, and ruin one of the best things that ever happened to him?

  Well, at least he tried.

 “Of course, I’m sorry sweetheart. You must be so tired.” He gently placed you onto his bed, rubbing your shoulders as you sat on the edge. He massaged down your arms, then made his way down your ticklish sides. “Feelin’ a lil’ better?” You groaned and nodded in approval, then thumped your head onto his broad chest. He tucked his chin over your head while he rubbed your back, the high point of your backside. He could feel the thickness of it as you sat. Your arch into him gave him an insane view. Your silhouette was pitching a tent in his pants, but you were too blissed out to even notice it. Touching you sent shivers down his spine, while goosebumps traveled down yours. 

 “Feels good.” You mumbled, and you further buried yourself into his chest while wrapping your arms around him. He smelled amazing, warm and comforting.

“Is that so.~ I’m glad, want more?” You eagerly nodded and he encouraged you to turn around. He hesitantly pulled your skirt off, careful not to take your panties with it. You lifted your shirt, dragging your bra with it with hardly a care as you laid flat on your stomach. Comfortable on his big bed, cuddling into his fluffy blankets. Comfortability was important to him, and his heart swelled when he thought about the fact that he was making you this way. That you loved his room, and you loved his touch. His hands worked down your back seriously, the knots in your shoulder giving way and you moaned in encouragement.

 “Feels good, ah.” God he was hard, he loved when he could massage you, feeling rewarded himself despite being the one to work your knots away. Knots from a busy hard working day. Although this was his first time having you like this, his knees on either side of your hips. His grey pajama pants were beginning to dampen a little, his drooling cock starting to take its toll. This was so much to take in, your little panties made your ass look like a heart, and his little friend was eager at the sight. He was trying not to touch you with it, but as you felt it painfully strain and twitch every time you moaned you figured you could tease him a little bit. You pushed back into him just the slightest, squishy backside feeling amazing against his lower half. He immediately bucked against you, sweat began to fall from his brow.

 “Sweetheart, can I turn you around?” He asked, rubbing your lower back and stopping himself from kneading the two mounds in front of him. They were jiggling, and he was trying so hard not to bust at the sight. You nodded, just the slightest bit of reluctance as you covered your chest with both of your hands and turned to face him. Holy shit, his eyes were blown. His face was red, and he was so hard. You couldn’t believe your eyes, and thanked the lord that Gojo chose those pants for the night. You felt like you were drooling. The pink tips of his fingers pushed against your pouting maw, and his thumb pulled your bottom lip down. You opened your mouth, tongue squirming inside and he stuck his thumb inside just to feel it twitch. He gently rubbed your tongue, and the slightly salty taste of it had you already seeing stars. You lapped at it, and sucked on it, like it was your favorite candy.

 His breath began to pick up, and all he could focus on was the warm wet sensation. He switched his thumb out for his index and middle fingers. He traced your teeth, your gums, and curiously inched his fingers further down your throat. You tried not to gag, the tears in your eyes proof that he was getting some distance. He pulled them out, a thick strand of drool followed him as if it didn’t want him to leave. Your sharp inhale for breath, a deep and desperate sound further encouraged him. He eagerly placed his coated finger inside of his mouth, and while this normally would’ve repulsed you, instead you felt your heart hammering inside of its cage. Your mouth was still open and you flattened your tongue outward. He couldn’t tell if you wanted him to stick them back in or kiss him, but damn was he going to kiss you senseless regardless.

  He licked your tongue with his own, swallowing you up immediately. You moaned into the kiss, eagerly exploring whatever you could. It was sloppy, and messy, the saliva almost grossed you out. But god did it feel amazing, you’d never do this with anyone else, however he was getting you addicted to doing it with him. You eagerly opened for him, and he drooled inside. He wanted to push you back, he had to do something more. He was getting restless, his hands tugged at the base of your head and tangled into your hair. Your own hands raked through his silky strands. Your noises were deadly, whether it was the smacking of your lips or the squishy sounds of your spittle, or your moans. You were moaning like he was inside of you, and he felt his own pang of jealousy. Others had seen you like this, kissed you breathless and you looked like this for them? 

 He nipped at your bottom lip, and you fought to bite his lip instead. Drawing it back and pricking him in the process. He gasped, and moaned. His noises were surprising, was he always this vocal? You wanted more, so you pulled him down against you just to man handle his mouth again. You were tugging and biting his lip. Surely bruising him but he wanted it, needed you to mess him up like he was going to mess you up. It was overwhelming you how good this felt, how delirious you were starting to feel. He licked your cheek, held your jaw in place as his tongue started where his hand held you, up and along the side of your face. He caressed your ears, and then his hands acted on their own, exploring your exposed chest. You’d forgotten that you were shirtless, forgotten that you’d only been in your skimpy panties. 

 This freaked you out as you were reminded of the fact that you were about to hook up with your oldest friend. Your closest friend. Your insanely handsome best friend that was way too good at kissing and way too pliant. You pushed him back, needing to catch your breath. Maybe even needing to escape. He panted with you, not going to wipe his mouth that had a little bit of his blood mixed in with his saliva. So much saliva, it had to have been yours as well. You were sure you weren’t in a better state than him.

 You sat up, sitting on the edge of the bed once again and he sat next to you. There was some space between the both of you, his ceiling fan spun above you as you continued to breathe haggardly. You shivered, the loss of warmth caused goosebumps to spread across your body, and your nipples tantalizingly perked. He watched you, just wishing you would notice the heart eyes he had for you. That he was giving you actively.

 “S-Satoru.” You choked out, voice breathy, “I want you to know that I really value us.” He nodded along, hanging off of every word that tumbled from your trembling lips. They were red, swollen, your face was moist from him licking you repeatedly. “It- it’s been a while since I’ve slept with someone. Naoya was super selfish, and it hurt so I just didn’t wanna anymore. He was big, which was really scary. And you’re big- Ugh.” You put your face in your hands as you shifted your knees to touch them against his own. “I’m so sorry, I know I shouldn’t be talking about that when we’re about to…”

 He stopped you then, taking your hands into his own. “Babe, you think that would make me insecure?” He gestured to himself, flatted his lips and lifted his eyebrows as if to say have you seen me? “Besides,” he pointed to below his belt, “do you even know what I’ve got goin’ on down here? I promise, talkin’ ‘bout that guy won’t do nothin’ to me. He ain’t got nothin’ on me.” His confidence perked you up, and a few hesitant giggles left your tense lips. He rubbed your thighs again, hoping to comfort you. And the tension gave way, you leaned against his chest again. “Wanna stop for today?” You shook your head, and clenched your fists into his shirt.

 “I think you just have to take your time to prepare me and whatnot. To put it bluntly, I don’t take big dick well. And you clearly have a big one.” You mumbled, peaking your head up to gauge his reaction. His brows furrowed in response and your heart sank. “If it’s too much you don’t have t-”

 “Why wouldn’t I prepare you?” He sounded genuinely confused, almost offended that you thought he’d just do whatever he pleased. Like your comfortability and pleasure wasn’t at the forefront of his mind. Your heart stuttered once again, and you owlishly blinked up at him. “Gonna make you feel good.” He said, nudging your nose with his own. “Though, you’re gonna hafta guide me. Since I’m a first-timer ‘n all.” You pushed him back then, your jaw gaping at his statement. First-timer?

 “You fuckin’ liar!” You slapped his chest, laughing not believing him for a second. Classic Gojo pulling out some jokes to lighten the mood. He stood firm though, his grin seeming a little too sincere. “Wait, you’re jokin’ right?” You asked, placing your hands flat against his chest as you stared up at him. He shook his head, melting at how beautiful you were.

 “You’re so beautiful.” The words tumbled from his mouth, but you could barely process his compliment as you were stuck on the devastating (yet exciting) revelation. Wait, exciting? How old were you again?

 “B-but that kiss, and all those dates I’ve set you up with.”

 “That was technically the second time I’ve kissed someone.” He held a contemplative look, and rubbed his jaw. “How many kisses do ya think that was? Prolly like, a thousand right?” You beat your fist bluntly against his chest.

 “Oh my God, Satoru! What the hell? You have no experience?” You weren’t disappointed, you just felt a little betrayed. You thought all this time he was just a private person, which you could respect. Turns out he was a fair maiden, and you were about to ravage him like he was some slutty womanizer. 

 “Not a lick of it.” His lopsided grin caused the corners of your eyes to crinkle. “Wanna pop m’ cherry?”

 “What, for real? You’re okay with that?” He squeezed his eyes in response, his self control beginning to finally wither away. Fuck it. It’s go time.

 “You’re such an airhead sometimes, fuckin’ duh I want you. Duh I’m okay with it. I’ve wanted you for, like, ever now.” He squeezed you against himself, his affection finally boiling over, and you hesitantly wrapped your arms around him.

 “You mean it. Really? You want me?” You asked, it was muffled against his sweater. Your hair snagged his necklace. He was getting hot, he needed that heavy thing off. He reached for the hem of it, beginning to pull it off, but you stopped him. “Lemme.” You threw your leg over him, and reached for the bottom yourself. You grinded yourself down on his straining bulge and pulled the garment up and off. It felt good to not be the only topless one.

 “I want you. I need you.” He pleaded, gazing up at you as you held yourself over him. Your knees held you up, your soft hands cupped his face, fresh black manicure scratched at his chin. You brought your own face down, just to nudge your nose against him.

 “Open, then.” And he did, without a second to spare and you let your own string of saliva slowly dribble down into his mouth. He stuck his tongue out, and held you closer to himself, tucking his chin between your breasts as you continued to drool for him. You brought his face up, kissed the corner of his lips, and then trailed down the side of his face. Then down his neck. Small love marks were left in your wake, the trail getting darker and deeper with your intensifying excitement. He held you in place with one arm while he lifted himself up a little to take his pants off. He was wearing briefs that you’d gotten him for Valentine’s day that year. Sleek black ones with tiny white pin stripes that hugged him too well. And God damn it, he was indeed big. Bigger than you thought it’d be. The angry tip (and then some) poked out the bottom of his briefs. You sat yourself down, not caring about your weight or what he wanted at that moment. You were exhausted from holding yourself up, like you said, you’d been on your feet all day. He cooed, then flipped you both with ease so that you could lay down. Your body relaxed and you smiled up at him gratefully.

 His hands rubbed down your sides again, you opened your legs so he could slot himself between them. The bed creaked, the comforter had you sinking into it. You looked otherworldly, angelic, he wanted to kiss you gently. He grabbed your ankle again, kissed where the anklet  was, and rubbed his big hands down your thighs. He stopped right when he’d reach the peak of your inner thigh, just as your breath would hitch when he’d graze a sensitive area before he drew back just to do it again.

 “How was work, sweet girl?” He asked, you took your time to answer. Reveling in the sensation of his massage again, so happy that he was working your tension away.

 “Lots of kids, lots of papers, lots of crayon masterpieces. It was a good, but long day.” You smiled fondly, thinking of your own elementary students. You’d been teaching as long as he had, at a public school close to your home. You enjoyed the shorter hours, and it was surprisingly active. “Parent-teacher night is this week, I’ve been preparing for it.” You explained, reaching out to rub his arms. Your touch burned him, he really wanted more. He didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to hold out, he was thankful that he didn’t cum in his pants earlier. Although it was a close call. “You?” Your gaze found his, a soft smile spread across your features.

 He leaned in to kiss you, flattening your legs against your sides. You didn’t know you were that flexible as he bent them back to hold your bottom half a little more raised. You moaned, tangling your hands in his hair, you’d missed this feeling during the short break. Even if it’d only been a few minutes. He pulled back, “Boring, my kids are great though.” You hummed, petting his head while he marked up your neck. His biting and licking tickled and tingled, you wrapped your legs high on his back.

 “Satoru, touch me.” it was meant to come out as a question, but it was more demanding. You’d never been good at asking for things, which is why he just got you everything you wanted, anything you needed. This would be no different. While he wanted to taste your essence so badly, he didn’t want to leave your mouth. He loved your lips, so he brought his fingers to them. You coated them in a thick layer of spittle, then reached to pull your panties to the side yourself. 

 “Gonna put these in.” He said, starting off with one finger. It was already soaking down there, he didn’t need your spit at all. He was being considerate because you said it’d been a while, but this just further frustrated you.

 “Can I have both,” Your panting against his mouth spurred him on, you gave him short kisses. After a short pause you added, “please?” He obliged, working them inside you. They were long, incredibly so. Was everything about him extreme? You needed to see his aching dick, you were so curious about how big he was underneath those restricting undergarments.

 “So sweet for asking, my sweet girl.” He praised, licking your mouth and then your face again. You moaned out loud, not wanting this to end. You felt like an animal, he was practically caging you in, his body weight heavy but grounding. Your hair was wild spread out on his bed, your skin glistening with the beginnings of perspiration. A gentle flush overtook your complexion. The marks all over your neck would be tomorrow's problem, and he’d get you whatever you needed to cover them up. He just had to leave them, the beautiful pink and purple marks made his heart twitch in sync with his swollen phallus. He caged one muscular arm on the left side of your head, just so he could put more weight on you as his hand worked you harder. You were belting out sweet noises. He needed to hear more. If you moaned, he moaned. Feeling just as much as you were, kissing you and whining like he was buried deep inside already.

 “S-Satoru. M’ gonna.” You scratched at his back, “ah, cum! M’gonna cum!” You cried out, arching as much as you could, he only drilled into you harder. Rocking your body with his, almost like it was his hips making you feel this good. He curled his fingers, searching for that spongy spot he read about. When he found it, your pretty eyes screwed shut and your mouth hung open in that of ecstasy. 

 “You wanna cum, baby?” He asked, leaned back finally to watch you come undone. You were wet, teary eyed, marked up. The bruises were so beautiful. He stuck the fingers that weren’t inside of you, into your open mouth. You didn’t hesitate to eagerly suck them, the vibrations from your constant moaning obscene. “Fuck, I wanna put it in.” You clamped down, and lifted yourself up as you came hard around his thick fingers. His pounding didn’t stop, it was almost too much. “Think I can make ya squirt?”

 “I can’t do that-” you moaned in surprise as he spread your legs apart, so wide it aches. He sat back on his haunches, just so he could do you deeper with his fingers, harder, all while he rubbed your clitoris too. “W-wait, not at the same time. It feels funny.”

 “Fuck yeah, I bet it does. Imma make you squirt.” He grinned, eyes widening as you writhed under him. He was practically glowing. Your tits bounced, he wanted them in his mouth. He couldn’t get enough of this. “Yer pretty, so pretty. My pretty girl.” He leaned down to kiss you again, then kiss your breasts, and finally took a perky nipple into his mouth.

 “Ngh..” you mewled, the gentle rocking from your hips turned frantic. “Gonna cum again, it’s gonna be big. M’ gonna cum all over you.” You babbled, just shy from sobbing when it raked through you again. The bastard had done it, you squirted all over his torso. His eyes were blown wide, a few spurts sprayed his face. His tongue poked out, eager to taste what you gave him.

 “Imma lick it, you cool with that?” He asked, hauling your bottom half up and crinkling your position, you were weightless in his presence, practically a doll for him. You didn’t fight it, moved how he wanted. You nodded.

 “Jus’ a little, wan’ yer dick.” You said, reaching both your hands up to caress his face. He wanted to cry. He was probably already crying. God you were amazing.

 “Love you.” He kissed your knee. “Gonna make you love me.” He kissed the hot nub, the sensitive thing made your whole pussy twitch. It was pretty. “So pretty, so wet. Love you.” He kissed it again, “love you.” He licked it then, taking in whatever juices he could.

 “You- you what?” You asked, covering your face is embarrassment. There were obscene noises coming from below, a wet squelching you had never heard nor experienced before.

 “Love you so bad. Forever, loved you forever. ‘M yers.” His confession against your weeping flower made you clench around nothing, so he plugged it with his tongue.

 “That’s ‘nuff, put it in Satoru.” You pleaded, tugging his head back by the base of his hair and he moaned at that. Your voice was garbled, hoarsely strained from your tense position. Your arousal glittered across his mouth, while drool continued to slip past his puffy rose-tinted lips.

 “Yeah, I’ll put it in.” He placed you down, the strain on your back easing up. You sighed in relief, finally. “Gotta grab a rubber.” You shook your head and stopped him before he could reach into his night stand.

 “Satoru, you love me?” He nodded eagerly, unsure about where you were going with this. “You’re a virgin?” He once again nodded. “Then do me just like this, I trust you. I’ve never felt it before.” His mind blanked, and for the first time in his life he didn’t know what to say. Ocean eyes hesitantly searched your own for a joke. Haha, very funny. You were dead serious. “Mean it, wanna feel you all the way. Gimme it all, love you too.” 

  It was hilarious, you’d just broken up with your boyfriend of some months only a few hours prior. Because he demanded raw sex, all so at the end of the day he could get it without even asking. He grabbed his member, the blushing fat tip tapped against your entrance, “I’m gonna fuck the hell outta ya.” He tapped it some more. “Lemme in.~” his sing-song voice eased your nerves, tapping it harder just to mess with you. “‘Scuse me miss, I’ve gotta’ package here for you. Would you mind signin’?” You slapped his torso, frustrated that he was playing with you. He couldn’t take shit seriously. 

 In reality he was freaking out that you loved him back, that he was about to feel your heat with nothing between you both, that this was the first time you’d be having sex without protection. His first time period was going to be with you, wholly and completely.This only caused his metaphorical tail to wag harder. He was trying very hard not to start actively crying. He pushed his tip in, moaning loudly as he sunk in deeper. “Oh shit.” His breathing was heavy, and he tried to keep his eyes open. Tried to paint your steady writhing deep within his memories.

 He held your thigh, bracing himself with his other hand against the creaking dark oak of his headboard. He rocked in further, hissing and moaning as he did so. His pink face further blushed, his eyes watered as the feeling overwhelmed him. A sheen of sweat glistened over his body, and goosebumps broke out. Good thing you came that night already because, “‘M not gonna last long.” He groaned.

 You moaned with him, pushing down on him. It was incredibly wet, incredibly stretched out, and it was the best dick you’d ever felt in your life. You’d not been able to take a big dick fully before, but you’d die before you let Satoru go uncovered and unsatisfied. You’d take it all, you were determined. You pushed your hips down, wanted to feel him in your stomach. Never having been so excited for a dick, never felt the sensations of thick veins. His foreskin added to the sensation, and it was true what all of your sexually adventurous friends told you. Uncut dick was truly the best. And raw on top of it? Never in your life did you think you’d see the day. You moaned endlessly, it was beautiful. His new favorite song, he was half tempted to record it. Actually…

 “Hey, ya mind if I take a video?” He asked, stopping his movements. You stared up at his glowing body, his wide eyes, his pussy drunk expression. You looked over, searching for your phone and handed it to him, then smiled.

 “Whatever you want, sweet boy.” He mushed his pelvis against yours, moaning loudly at your pet name. He didn’t bother recording as he held himself as deep as he could go, and swiveled his hips in place. You were seeing stars. “Oh shit..! Oh fuck!” Your cries were truly music to his ears, you did it! You took it all, you wanted to feel elated and proud of yourself but his cockwas just so good you couldn’t think of anything but the sensation.

 He drew his hips back, just until the very tip was kissing your entrance, lovingly. He opened your phone (the password was his birthday) and turned the camera on. It was focused on where you would meet, and as he recorded, he sunk right back in. A satisfied sigh left both of your mouths, along with your moans in sync. 

 “Jus’ like that.” You whined, your encouragement was enough to make his hips stutter. “You’re so good, the best. Feel so good, fuck baby.” Your words only fueled his fire. He was determined to drill into you until you were creaming all over him. Just this time on his achingly hard penis. Which by the looks of it, as he gazed down at where he was pounding, you were already all milk. Gushing around him, god he couldn’t wait to feel you cum on him. 

 He put the phone down for a second, not turning it off. Instead, he hesitantly went to flip you around. He really wanted to squeeze your plump ass. It was round, fat, he’d always wanted to touch it. “Can I…” you didn’t let him finish his sentence, rather you moved yourself around and arched your back for him. Your plump behind fully on display, your panties making his already fully hard member twitch. He was inside that, and now he gets backshots. He really was God’s favorite. “Fuck.” He aligned himself, pushing in and you hissed at the stretch. The angle had you instantly drooling, your face flattened into his pillow. The feeling was overwhelming, his scent overtook you along with the musk of your activities.  “It’s so slippery, so tight.”

 You were smearing your dark makeup all over his white pillowcase. The sight drove him wild, his hand reached for your phone and focused on where you were connected again. He drew his hips back, just to snap them inwards. It winded you, knocking you further over. He pushed out and back in with the same force again, every so often he’d grind himself flush against you just to kiss your fat lips better and ease up on his rough treatment. You’d be bruised later, which would suck. But you knew he’d take care of you. On a particularly hard thrust, you hit your head into his headboard.

 “Oof!” You exclaimed, not really paying attention to what happened, but acknowledging that it did. You were too engrossed in his swollen dick making sweet love to your dripping pussy.

 “Oh shit.” he stopped his ministrations, and discarded your phone. Not realizing that you’d been making your way up the bed. “I’m sorry, pretty girl.” He turned you around, and rubbed your sore spot. You lazily and stupidly smiled up at him, and shook your head as if to say it’s alright. You didn’t really have a voice anymore, and even if you did, you were too tired to use it. You reached down for him, and aligned him once again. You needed his angry cock, needed it to break you in. Kiss your cervix. Make out with your pussy lips. You loved kissing him in any way you could. With that thought in mind, you made hands to grab his face. And pushed his lips against yours, haggard moans tumbling. He sunk back in, this time he held it there for you to adjust.

 The sun was setting, it cast his room into a more sensual light. He forgot to shut his billowing black curtains, so it was fortunate that his room was in the back and his yard had high privacy fencing. As your skin was dyed in yellow, pink, and red, he held you there. Kissing you languidly, whispering sweet nothings against your exhausted lips. This fucker said he wouldn’t last long. You didn’t sweat the small stuff, and instead wrapped your legs around his waist as he warmed his cock. The heels of your feet dug into him, pulled him flush against you. He did that thing where he swiveled his hips and it had you almost cumming all over him.

 “Oh, Satoru. Yes!” You mewled, suddenly finding your voice, rocking so that his pelvis rubbed your clit. He could tell that you liked it, and needed that extra stimulation. He drew his hips back, tired of taking it slow. He was sure you’d be fine if he picked up the pace, he’d rub your clit as an apology.

 His hips began a rapid, desperate pace. He was panting like a dog, tongue hanging out. Your sweet area was so wet, when he looked down there was a thick white ring covering the base of his shaft. The room was silent, both of you too immersed in the feeling. It was broken by the squelching of your intense love making, and occasional deep moan or heavy intake of breath. His orgasm was quickly approaching, he really didn’t want to finish. Not yet. He felt like he was too quick, he knew he could do better.

 He pushed your thighs flush against the mattress and held himself on his toes so that he could drill in even deeper. Harder. More desperate, more intense. His panting was so loud, and you were beginning to moan again. He reached down to rub your clit, furiously as it stood up just as angry as his cock. It was watery, and as he drove in and out little spurts of your arousal escaped you. You were squirting on him again, albeit to a less degree but it was just as hot. You were close, that much he could tell by the higher pitch of your whines. There was a desperate knit of your brow, and you were squeezing him impossibly tight. Your body was tense, he just needed you to give him what he wanted and he’d follow.

 You opened your mouth, and stuck your tongue out. Begging him to get messy. Mess me up! Mess me up! Mess me up! You chanted in your foggy state, and he drooled in your mouth just like earlier. He leaned down, his hips smacking into you so hard it almost hurt. You stared into his eyes while he spit on you, spit on your mouth, in your mouth, bit your lips and tugged. You wrenched his head back, pulling his hair just to be a little mean. Just to see if he’d let you. Of course he did, and it damn near made him spill inside of you.

 “Ohhhh fuck.” He moaned, his sweat dripped down onto you. Your hands, fisted into his dusty white locks, smashed his head into you. Your mouths and teeth clashed. You bit him, and drew more blood. You slammed his face into you so hard, his nose began to bleed just a little. What a sight it was. It would definitely stain his bedding, but that was hardly a problem to him.

 The crimson painted his expression beautifully, the euphoria so evident that you just had to give him what he wanted. You smeared the blood dripping from his nose, swiped it to the side. Just to mess him up more, and finally as he bruisingly slammed into you with added fervor you let go.

 “Good girl, sweet girl.” You moaned, lifting your hips so he could use you to get off. He pulled you up and down his length as you continued to cum all over him. “Where do ya want it?”

 “Wan inside. Inside me. ‘M on the pill, don’t stop. Don’t pull out. Don’t leave.” You were begging, you were practically insane. Tears streamed down your face, and he finally spilled himself inside of you. His loud moan shook his whole body, he held himself flush against you, mashing his pelvis against your clit again just for more clear liquid to spray out of you. It was sensational, something he’d never felt before. He fucked it into you, his cum still dribbling out of his slit. He came so much, he didn’t think it would stop. As he drilled his load into you, it only further worked him up.

 “Wanna go one more time?”

•

 You were laid on his chest, fast asleep. Exhaustion overtook you after the fourth round, his stamina surprised you, and frankly, it also terrified you. At one point you were sure you were going to die. He gazed down at you, you were cupping his chest with your face pressed against his right pectoral. You were smushed into him, cuddling as much of his muscular chest as you could. There was drool pooling, hair stuck to your forehead and in different directions everywhere else. Your face was flushed and sweaty, his poor dick was waking up at the sight. Was that concerning? Was he some sort of freak? Just as he was about to reach out and smooth your hair, his phone buzzed on the nightstand next to him. It was one of his coworkers, a long time friend of his, he was definitely supposed to be meeting them at that time. He cursed, and answered, trying not to wake you. His quiet voice filled the otherwise silent area.

 “Hello?” He wasn’t trying to whisper but he took extra care not to disturb your much deserved rest.

 “Satoru~ where ya at?” The lilt in his voice echoed outside of Gojo’s phone, the noise from the restaurant the rest of his friends were at could be heard as well. “Everyone else is here, it’s not like you to be late.”

 “Hey man,” he started, you whined as he tried to move away. He was scared they’d wake you, but instead he did when you began to lose his warmth. “Shh, go back to sleep.” He soothed you, your blinking tired eyes tried to focus on him. How long had you been out for? On the other end he could hear his friends murmuring, and he rolled his eyes.

 “Baby, who is it?” You asked, much too close to his phone but his heart eyes only doubled in size. You yawned, and pulled yourself over him. Your naked body warmed him up, only further exciting him. He had to calm down. As you made yourself comfortable on him, and kissed his neck you rested your head there, then he spoke.

 “It’s Suguru, sweet girl.” His low voice eased you, and your eyelids fluttered shut.

 “Tell him I said hi.” And just like that you fell back asleep, with your arms looped around his neck.

 “Oh, she says hi?”

 “She sure does, my girl is just the sweetest isn’t she?” Gojo mused, playing with your cheek as you snoozed on top of him.

 “Is that what you’ve been doing since you left? You were in such a hurry, no one could reach you.” Geto sounded amused, Gojo could practically hear the way he languidly twirled a piece of his silky hair around his finger. There was a pause, and Gojo assumed he took a swig of his drink. “I’ll leave ya to it, then. Bring her along next time, it’s been a while since we’ve all hung out.”

 “Heh, maybe.” Fat chance, he wanted to monopolize as much of your time as he could. The last thing he wanted was your other friends teasing you all night. They said their goodbyes, and Gojo threw his phone to the opposite side of his bed. He couldn’t believe that you were there, in his arms. Probably incredibly sore. His gaze lingered on the marks he left, feeling bad for being so rough with you. His teeth were clearly put to use that night.

 He again maneuvered himself from under you. You didn’t stir that time, instead you cuddled the fluffy pillow he replaced his body with. Maybe he should draw a bath for you. He quietly padded out of his room, thankful for the carpet masking his footsteps. He entered his bathroom, you’d already had some toiletries there. For when you’d stay the night. His mind raced, were you staying over? Were you guys official? Did he royally screw up a lifelong friendship because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants? The water drew, the bubbles rose. A sweet aroma filled the bathroom, he hoped he could make it up to you. He grimaced the more he thought about all the marks he had left on you. 

 There was movement behind him as the bubbles continued to rise, you'd woken up and set out of the room to find him. You sleepily leaned yourself against the doorway, his blue sweater from earlier hung off of your shoulders. He felt something twitch, below his belt, the marks all over you turning him on rather than making him feel bad. It was something about the sight of you in his clothes. He rose to his feet, and wiped his hand on a towel that hung from a bar next to his bathtub.

 “Hey, sweetheart. How ya feelin’?” He asked, padding his way towards you, he wanted to touch you. He held your shoulders, and squeezed them affectionately.

 “Where’s the ice cream?” You yawned and rubbed your eyes, the raspiness in your voice made his heart clench. He walked you over to the bath, and encouraged you to get in. In your half awake state you complied very easily, not caring for the shedding of your clothes and instead you soaked in the warmth of the water. It eased your sore muscles, and you sighed in contentment when you were fully seated.

 “Bath first, ‘kay?” You nodded, and reached out for him. You wanted him close, he knew you were needy but he was hardly on the romantic receiving end. You cuddled sure, watched movies, hugged, danced. But these more intimate moments were completely new.

 “C’mere, miss you.” You yawned again, slipping further into the bath. The suds overtook you, and when he finally slipped in himself, there was hardly any room to move around. You settled into his lap, leaning against him and let him do the work. He worked some shampoo into your hair, rinsed it himself. Lathered your body and scrubbed. You’d both showered prior to meeting up, so soaking in the bath after working up a sweat felt amazing. You felt a little dirty, knowing whatever you’d done was being washed away. He was taking such good care of you, you could almost ignore the growing problem under you.

 Almost.

 You shifted, your hazy eyes finally beginning to lose the fog. Your wet lashes blinked up at him, his own eyes widened as you brought him into a sweet kiss. It lacked heat, but curried so much affection. It was lazy, you lapped at his bottom lip just because you felt like it.

 “Love you.” You repeated, was this what it was like to be on the receiving end of your adoration? He tried to rack his brain, tried to find any indication that you’d felt like this about him in the past. Sure you’d looked at him a little too long, held his gaze when you were alone. Your physical affection sometimes felt just a little too intimate. 

 You’d invited him over a while back, short shorts resting at just above the bottom of your ass. Tank top low, lacy black bra peaked out just a bit. He’d kept his hands inside of his pockets, patting himself on the back for wearing thick jeans and an oversized hoodie. He felt the air, it was different, but he couldn’t tell if you were making a move on him. Your sweet smile as you rushed him into your apartment, and practically threw him onto the black futon style couch just to plop yourself over him. You’d whined about your day, snuggled his neck. 

 On other occasions you’d asked to dance with him, he was the only one you’d ever invite out to a goth club. He nursed your drink when you were away, kept away any potential problems. You’d squeeze his hands when you’d finally started to dance with him, your body swayed with him so sensually. One night, your arms moved in the air, your hips swished in tune with Depeche Mode. You were in very tall, thigh high Demonia’s. The little black skirt, it looked like a tulip, its sheer layers swayed with your every movement. Your tight black split hem top properly displayed a dangling belly ring. It was mesmerizing, the drinks, the music, the way you swayed, and holy shit you’d kissed that night too, he was just too drunk to remember. Outside of the dingey bathroom, it was too heated for friends and then it was lost in his memories. Were you in some sort of situationship that whole time, and he didn’t realize it?

 “Satoru?” Your sweet, hesitant voice pulled him from his thoughts and he lazily smiled down at you. The water swished as you moved to straddle him. “Wanna fool around a lil’ more?” He was going to ravage you, as much as you wanted, whenever you wanted.

 “Anythin’ for you, my sweet girl.” He kissed you then, your poor lips ached in protest. But you just had to feel him again, just had to remind yourself that he was yours. No one had treated you with such care, brushed your hair out of your face, soothed your aches and pains. He’d treated you so well for so long, would now be a good time to act a little spoiled? You’d been good all this time.

 “Put it in, can’t wait.” You begged, the water swished with your desperation, and splashed out the sides. You reached below, eager to ease him inside. He prodded your entrance once again, pushing in and the stretch stung all over again. You’d think your pussy would be numb, but she was even more desperate than you were. She sucked him up greedily, allowed him full access all the way to the back. Your sensitive cervix missed him, and kissed him eagerly. “Ngh.” Your shaky moan was snatched from your lips, because he held you close then. Wrapped his big arms around you and pulled you flush against him. The smooth expanse of his skin blinded you, his deep eyes hypnotized you. He sucked on your tongue, and rocked upward.

 The water splashed with each move of your hips, a constant push and pull from the both of you. You wrapped your hands around his head, nipped his ear, nibbled his jaw. He was in a bad state already, and god was he so loud.

 “Ah, shit. Mmm, fuck. Yes. Take it.” He never fully left your heat, and the longer you both danced in the water, the colder it got. A shiver raked through you, and you tried to pull him closer. You hoped for more warmth, but the further he slipped into you the colder your body felt inside of the water. He abruptly stood when he noticed the puffy bumps start to line your skin, careful to not drop you chuckling a small, “Upsy-Daisy.” 

 The gruff movement scared you, and you instantly held him tighter so as to not fall. “Bed?” He asked, walking while still sheathed inside of you. You couldn’t respond, the air was thoroughly forced from your lungs with each step he took. It felt too amazing, he had to hold you against the outside wall and go at it a little harder. Your nails scraped his back as he held you against the cold wall just outside of his room, drilling into you with so much force that it knocked your head into it. What was wrong with him, he just kept hurting you. “Aweee, I’m sorry pretty girl, lemme move.” You cut him off with a desperate shake, and pulled him in for a big kiss. You swallowed his noises just like he did to you, drank his saliva, and god did you bite his lips again. He loved that, loved how good it hurt.

 “Stay right here, fuck me proper!” You begged, and he hoisted you up to better support you. You bounced down to the best of your abilities, even as exhaustion showed clearly in your muscles and on your face. You couldn’t stop, the feeling of his velvet rod almost fully leaving just to forcefully enter you again was too good. Your lips were fluttering around him, your arousal dripped down his hefty balls and onto the floor below you. The heavy smack of your ass coming down and his balls meeting it sounded so lovely. Why hadn’t you done this before? 

 “Yer gonna drive me insane, love you so much.” A picture frame, one of you at his college graduation hugging his side so tenderly, shook as you were pounded against the wall. You glanced down, just to watch him disappear inside of you. You felt tears spring up and blur your vision.

 “Am I yours?” You asked, and he frantically nodded. “You’re mine?” You nodded even harder, moaning loudly when you squeezed around him. He was on the verge of dumping his load inside of you, there was no way he was going to be able to pull out.

 “Can I cum inside again?”

 “As much as you want.” He finally began to move you from the wall, thankful he had his own place because neither of you could stop the growing volume and raised pitch in your voices. He laid you on the edge of his big bed, you sunk into his blankets again. Even more beautiful now that you were dyed in his color. Your legs rested on his shoulders, that precious anklet jingled with his rough movements. The necklace you gave him dangled above you, and you’d tug on it every now and again. Your toes curled, you were so close. As you felt the dam break, his own orgasm washed over himself. He stilled inside, hot cum painting your insides once again. “My pussy missed you.” You panted into his blanket with your face hung to the side, and he came again instantly. It dribbled outside of you, slipped down your ass, pooled onto his bed. 

 “Missed your pussy baby.” He leaned down to kiss you, one more time before pulling out. His hot dick popped out of you and hung heavily as it weeped with further release. He pushed in again, just to tease you and plug whatever he could back inside. Your pussy was red, raw, sore, but it was delicious and despite not having any dinner you were so full. You laid there, the bath you’d taken now meaningless. But it didn’t matter, not when he sprang to get a warm wet towel and wipe you clean. He kissed the marks he left, patted your hair. He presented you with an ice cold water, and you accepted gratefully.

 “Do you really love me, or just my pussy?” You asked, after what felt like an eternity of silence. You were just dying to know if it was all pillow talk, and if it was you couldn’t even be that mad about it because it was the best you’d ever received. He rolled his eyes, and pinched your reddened cheeks.

 “I’m not lettin’ you go. I’m like, super crazy ‘bout ya’.” He threw another shirt your way, so you could just lay in bed comfortably. You looked around finally as your head cleared up. Memories of you spread throughout his room  that were more glaringly obvious than before. He had a picture of only you framed on his nightstand for Christ’s sake. You were smiling widely at a fish you’d caught on your first camping trip together. 

 “You promise?” You were timid, more scared than he’d ever seen you. “I don’t wanna lose you Satoru.”

 “You won’t.” He sounded so firm, so sure. 

 As the minutes ticked by, the sun fully set now and the gentle sound of crickets outside of his open window filled the room, you rolled onto your side to face him. You were pouting, and his wolfish grin spread wide across his face.

 “So,” you started, “about that movie and ice cream.”

[kiwifruitnumberone]

A Phone Call

Ft. Nanami Kento

Warnings: smut w no plot, vulgar language, vaginal penetration, phone call in the middle of sex, fem!reader x Nanami. That’s all i hope✌️

MDNI

Wc: 1099

This is my first like smut I’ve ever finished i have written it before but usually it’s crack smut and pretty shit so um🥲 Anyways my friend asked me to write this because she’s a Nanami FREAK🙏 (don’t blame her he’s hot as shit)

Pls enjoyyy ｡⋆୨୧˚

The sounds of your moans filled the room as your boyfriend, Nanami, slammed his hips inside of you.

His brutal thrusts left your thighs shaking and your eyes a crying mess, yet he wasn’t planning on stopping soon.

“Fuck love you’re taking me so well,” he breathed out, fucking into you without any mercy. You were unresponsive, only able to let out whiny moans and loud sighs.

“Oh fuck, please keep going fuck,” you begged as you got lost in the pleasure of how he was making you feel. Every time he pulled his hips harder against yours, his cock brushed against that spot which made you scream with ecstasy.

“S-Shit, you're squeezing me so tight f-fuck,” he could feel your walls clench down on him as your orgasm approached, he too could feel himself getting closer each time he plunged back into you.

“Jesus– fuck I’m close,” you managed to scream out, breath shaky and panty.

“Shit me too, fuck 'm gonna-”

Just as the two of you were about to reach your high without any warning, Nanami's phone started ringing. This snapped the two of you out of your trance, causing a wave of disappointment to wash over you.

“Fucks sake,” Nanami cursed under his breath reaching his hand out to grab his phone.

You thought he would decline the call, you couldn’t be more wrong. He fucking answered it.

You looked at him, shocked– you knew he was overworked, but not this bad to be picking up in the middle of SEX?

You went to get up, fully expecting him to pull out, but as he answered the call, he pushed you back down with his free hand.

“Hang on, what are you doin-“ You were cut off when he snapped his hips back inside you, whilst he made a shhh noise telling you to keep quiet.

With the sudden movement of his hips, your hands had to quickly fly up to your mouth to suppress the moan that came out.

You didn’t expect him to continue fucking you while on a business call, you weren’t complaining, but it was going to be hard to keep quiet.

“Hey, what do you need?” Nanami spoke into the phone, pulling out of you again.

You were left confused, raising a brow at him, until he used his free hand to flip you on your stomach. He lifted your hips, giving himself the perfect angle that would have you screaming.

He knew what he was doing, it made it all the more exciting.

As he entered you once again, you shoved your face into a pillow to cover up the loud moan that came out of your mouth. He just smiled, thrusting his hips inside you even harder.

“Mhm, when do you need me to come in?” He was talking on the phone as if he wasn’t currently wrecking your shit.

You wondered how he hadn’t stuttered or tripped over his words at least once, but he spoke with perfect consistency like it was any other day.

It annoyed you, so instead of staying quiet, you’d be as loud as you could be, as if the skin on skin and the sounds of your wet pussy weren’t already enough.

Placing your head on the side of the pillow, you began screaming his name.

“Fuckk! Nanami!” You noisily moaned out, hoping the person on the other end of the line could hear you.

“What was that?” You heard the dude on the phone say.

Nanami looked down at you, catching on to what you were trying to do. He brought his hand to your mouth, covering it himself.

“Nothing,” He briefly told the guy, rolling his hips into you.

Your knuckles had partially turned white by this point from how hard you were gripping the sheets.

With each thrust, he could feel you get wetter and wetter from him repeatedly hitting your g-spot which left you in a moaning mess.

His hand had tightened around your mouth as he got rougher, your muffled cries echoing throughout the room.

You were drowning in pleasure, even if he didn’t show he was too–the way you sounded each time his hips met yours. He couldn’t get enough of it; he was intoxicated by you, and he didn’t mind at all.

“Are you busy right now?” The man asked Nanami whose voice was starting to get more breathless the more he fucked you.

“Yes although I should be done soon,” He rasped out in full confidence you’d be cumming all over his dick soon.

You looked back at him, screwing your face up at his cockiness. The dirty look was quick to go when he pulled his hand from your face to press it against your lower back.

He was now grinding into you with more force, making sure you could feel every last inch of him.

You were being pushed to your edge, you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to your climax, you lost a few minutes ago

The more he sank into you, you could feel a throbbing sensation pooling inside you.

“Shit I’m close!” You whined, digging your hands into the mattress as his pace fastened.

“Are you having sex right now?!” He screamed from the line of the phone in realisation.

Nanami quickly ended the call, tossing his phone somewhere in the room. He put his full attention on you, placing both his arms beside your head, thrusting at a new angle.

He could feel your walls clench around him, the more his hips slammed into you, “Your doing so well–shit,” he felt himself getting close.

He forced his cock to enter you deeper, eliciting louder moans from you, the sounds of his skin meeting yours was like music to his ears.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum– shit squeezin’ me so tight,” he groaned, bringing his head down to yours.

“Shit I’m gonna–” You yelled out, feeling his speed increase from his already brutal pace, “Jesus! Fuck!” you cursed out as you clenched around his cock as you finished.

“Shit, shit—fuck,” Nanami gave one last brutal thrust before he pulled out, stroking his dick a few times, before cumming on your back.

You painted, being left exhausted. You felt Nanami get off the bed and pick you up bridal style.

“Let’s get cleaned up,” He said, smiling at you lovingly.

“I’m so lucky,” you smiled back at him, pinching his cheek lightly.

He laughed, carrying you to the bathroom to run a warm bath.

Ayee I know that cookie good👅🙏

[usagiarchive]

dumb tactics — jing yuan x reader

sypnosis. [ 0.3k words. fluff. established relationship ] — a game, a whistle, a kiss.

usagi's note: i haven't written in a while bcs i was caught up in academics, but i swear ive been cooking, like i have a rlly good upcoming plot so im very excited!! see more of my rambles after the fic, enjoy!!

“Your turn, A-Yuan,” you say as you drop your piece on the board.

It had been another one of those restful afternoons where the two of you simply basked in each other's presence. Today included a game of starchess.

Your lover looked seconds away from falling asleep so you called his name once again.

“Mhm,” he simply hummed, yawned, then moved his piece, “My love, do you know how to whistle?”

You raise an eyebrow, “Whistle…?” you echoed as you moved another piece.

“Yes,” he moves and takes one of your pieces. “I heard from Qingzu that whistling makes birds feel safe enough to rest next to humans,” he says, then stops to listen to the flock of birds you keep in the garden.

“Well yes, I do know how to,” you say as you take a piece of his.

Jing Yuan turns to look at you expectantly, using his signature pleading look.

You roll your eyes as you breathe out a laugh, “Alright, fine,”

You whistle a tune you know and wait for the birds… but nothing… happened?

You turn to look up and find the little creatures, but they just stayed in the trees.

“Yuan, I don't think it's working, maybe I'm doing it wrong, hold on let me try again,” you say as you turn back to him and whistle a different tune when-

He kisses you.

A quick peck and he pulls back with a :3.

Wait-

“Was the whole thing a ruse so you could kiss me?” You ask while just staring at him.

“Forgive me, Lady Bailu had told me something of a similar story earlier this week, I just… simply wanted to try it out,” he says still smiling.

You sigh in exasperation at his antics.

“You do know if you wanted a kiss, you could've just asked me, right?”

“Mm, but where's the fun in that, dear?”

You smiled amusedly, “You should be glad I put up with you,” you tease, “But do spit out my chess pieces, A-Yuan, you're not getting off the hook this time,”

The General turns his face away with a sly look.

“Jing Yuan!”

usagi's note: SO ANYWAY. one of the reasons why ive been so happy this week is bcs i hit my first 200+ cdmg in genshin like im so proud (i have shit builds okay) but like the cr is 37 ish so i think i should get that up to probably 50 or 60%? but im worried the cdmg will drop to the 100s again.

another one is bcs i learned smth rlly cool during my science class, thats is soooo gonna be the theme of the next fic i write, oh and its gonna be w scara btw cuz he's the one i hit the 200+ cdmg with hehe. but im kinda worried i won't be able to finish the outline within this week bcs ive been made head of a few projects especially with our entrepreneurship class so idk we'll see... ANW I HOPE U ENJOYED PLS SEND ASKS ILY ALL BYE THX FOR 150 I CRIED (REAL) !!!

@usagiarchive 2025. do not repost, translate, or use for AI. reblogs, likes, and comments are very appreciated!!

[hysteria-things]

hello again !! i know you just posted my last request but i have another idea !

• SMUTTY PLSZ

• matt/chris x teacher!reader

So basically, chris/matt are in senior year or any year in college and he has a teacher(reader) who's quite young and closer to their age but is still older and knowing men, she's already very popular in their school y'know y'know?

ALSO if you're gonna make the other students be a big part of the story too or add more plot, pls don't make the girls of the school hate her. it just feels unrealistic since in our school, it's mostly the girls that simp for the hot female teacher lmao

This idea was based on their video "truth or eat" i think(i forget everything) where he was asked if he's ever had a crush on a teacher and he answered yes w no hesitation and also the song "Teacher's Pet" by Melanie Martinez but switched genders.

i just think the male being the teacher and the female being the student felt overused/overdone(?)

Only if you're comfortable w this idea tho !!

TEACHER'S PET (part one)

read part two here

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!matt x teacher!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: matt asks for extra help after class (even though he knows exactly what he’s doing)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUTTY, swearing, making out, oral (male receiving), throat fucking, p in v, unprotected sex (nuh uh!), degradation, cheating (cheat on tests, not people), hair pulling, spanking, breeding, ROUGH

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,236

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: shoutout any of you in college i dropped out after a month i give you guys so much credit that shit’s hard😔

for @skadltmf :)

matt and his college friends sit at the round table in the food court. they’re at the home stretch of senior year with the spring semester starting tomorrow.

“i got that hot professor for one of my morning classes.” one of his friends brags. “she’s so fine.”

“who?” matt asks, and the two sitting with him stare at him like he should know this.

“professor l/n.” the other one starts. “literally everybody is obsessed with her. she’s only twenty-five; three years older than us.”

“there’s no way she doesn’t let students fuck her to get a good grade.” they both laugh, but matt stays quiet. his friends are in their conversation about you while matt thinks to himself.

he has you for a class too but at 6 PM.

you stand at the front of the class, teaching like a normal teacher should. half of the class never pays attention, anyway, but you still have to do your job.

they may not know, but you listen. you listen to what they say about you, and to be honest it boosts your ego.

one student in particular actually pays attention and takes notes, like what he’s doing right now. you couldn’t help but stare at him from time to time, and he’ll already be staring at you when you do.

you’re grading papers on your desk as your students work independently for the last fifteen minutes of class. you feel a presence, and you look up to see him there, fiddling with his worksheet.

you smile at him. “hello, matt. do you need help with something?”

“kind of. will i be able to stay after class?”

your phone lights up, and he glances at the lock screen. it’s a photo of you, your husband, and your son. “of course you can.”

he nods, going back to his seat.

the last fifteen minutes went by in a breeze, and all of the students left. except for one, of course.

you stand up and go over to the whiteboard, grabbing a marker just in case you need to explain something. “so, matt. what is it that you needed help with?”

“this question,” he says, stepping closer to you and pointing at the paper. you look at it confused because he already answered it. flawlessly.

“matt.” you chuckle. “you’ve got the problem right and showed your work perfectly. are you sure that’s the right one?”

his cheeks flush as he grabs your face, kissing you passionately. you pull away from his hold, weirdly sad that you did.

this is a first. you know the rumors that go around saying that you fuck students for an A+ but it’s not true. hell, you’ll lose your job.

he doesn’t say anything. he just stares at you, and you stare back. what you did next was a completely new person.

you go back in, his tongue inserting your mouth and swirling inside. this is so fucking wrong, but it feels so… right?

whining into the kiss, you move your hands down to his belt to unbuckle it. he chuckles, pulling away and pushing your head so you get on your knees.

he takes off his undergarments, revealing his—

your eyes widen. oh, god.

his red tip slides against your lips before you open, pushing himself into your wet mouth. “fuck.” he whispers.

grabbing onto your hair, he guides your head up and down his cock. he groans, leaning over and rutting his hips further into your mouth. your gagging fills the empty classroom, and spit starts to spill from your mouth.

it clicks in your head what you’re doing. you have a husband and child at home, for christ’s sake. you place your hands on his thighs and try to push your head back, but his grip is far too strong.

he slowly pulls out to watch his dick move past your lips, and slams back in. “take it, sweetheart. just like that.”

you keep gagging around him, your eyes becoming glassy as your mascara starts to smudge.

your lashes flutter each time he thrusts to the back of your throat before he stops. “s-shit.” he whimpers, but he doesn’t want to cum just yet. he closes his eyes to ignore the throbbing, pulling out of your sweet mouth. you cough, your lips swollen.

“bend over for me, yeah?” he smirks when you scramble to your feet. he grabs your waist, pushing your back so your stomach lays flat on your desk.

he lifts your skirt, moving your soaked underwear to the side. he wraps a finger around them and lets go, the elastic snapping against your core. you yelp at the sudden pain.

“such a slut.” he groans, inserting his tip into your folds but staying still. “letting one of your students shove his dick down your throat.”

he moves his tip out, but then puts it back in, thrusting it in and out teasingly. “bet you were thinking about this the whole lecture. i saw the way you were looking at me.”

you pathetically whine and nod. then, he grabs your hair so the upper half of your body is lifted from the wood. your hips dig into the edge of the desk as he starts entering you.

the stretch hurts, but it feels too good. your eyes flutter back, but a hand landing on your ass gets you out of your trance. he chuckles, taking the hand that’s not on your head and covering your mouth with it. “don’t be too loud, baby. don’t want the people outside that door knowing what a whore you are for me.”

he slides in deeper, a moan leaving your lips that’s muffled by his hand. he starts rutting his hips, going faster when you fit around him. “m-matt.” you gasp.

“so fucking tight around my cock.” he breathes out. your pleasurable cries and squelching of your pussy fill the room, along with his thighs slapping against your ass.

he removes his hand from your mouth, honestly forgetting that there are probably people around. all he’s focused on is pounding the daylights out of you. his teacher, mind you.

you grip the desk for support, moaning louder than any other time when his tip starts brushing against your cervix. “holy— shit.” you hoarsely scream, squeezing your eyes shut.

he lets go of your hair, your head immediately falling between your shoulders. “i’m gonna cum!” you warn, whimpering when he moves more mercilessly. both your thoughts and guts are getting scrambled at once.

“i wonder how disappointed your husband will be if he saw you like this.” he grunts and thrusts a few more times before continuing. “clenching around my dick, so badly wanting my cum inside you.”

you moan at his words. he feels so fucking good. you hate to admit it, but this is the best sex you’ve had in years.

“want me to fuck my baby inside you, you filthy whore?”

“y-yes, please,” you whine, repeating yourself over and over again.

you cum around him at the same time he stops deep, spreading your legs wider to finish inside. you moan one last time before becoming a rag doll, the bruises forming on your hips from them banging against the desk.

he moves your underwear back over your freshly bred pussy, kissing your shoulder and neck before whispering into your ear. “i’ll let you know when i need help again, professor l/n.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @idkhowtosleep @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog

[daffodils-and-viscera]

i've seen a lot of posts comparing mastermind to truth seekers but hear me out: ozzie's

SO this may be long buckle in. these episodes kinda have the same plot?

blitzø has found himself in a bit of a sitch, as it were...

our beloved dramatic gay owl is at home watching gabriela pine over alejandro, when suddenly... blitzy is in trouble! omg let's get cunty and go save the day!!

however, despite showing up and saving lives (he may have literally saved blitzø's life in mastermind but that outfit from ozzie's changed all our lives forever soo...) blitzø isn't necessarily ((outwardly)) happy to see stolas (((we all know he does not mind stolas' ass in his face but stay with me here)))

stolas' privilege allows him to be immediately heard and not punished by the people who would never listen to blitzø's side of things, and stolas gets to be his dramatic lil bitch self and we love to see it

in ozzie's, blitzø has his past come back to haunt him in so many ways, he is put in the spotlight and he is decidedly not comfortable there, being called out for all the shit he's done to fizz and verosika and even m&m - HOWEVER! as we all now know, all of those people actually care about blitzø and he was just being his lil destructive self. he is given the chance to defend himself but it's overwhelming and he kinda freezes up

in mastermind, blitzø is being outright blamed for things he didn't do but like.. he actually didn't do any of that ! and yet he can't defend himself because nobody would listen to him even if he wasn't gagged.

the difference between these 2 episodes is in stolas' behaviour when HE is put in the spotlight- at ozzie's he is freshly separated from stella and probably hasn’t done anything social for a long ass time and he’s not used to being in public. and here’s this thing that he thinks is gonna be fun and will help blitzø but he is not able to express himself so he hides and the result of that is blitzø pushing him away, literally doesn’t want to touch him

in MASTERMIND our birdy babe is singing his lil heart out with no regard for what anyone else thinks of him or what might happen to him, which is so beautiful (but also stolas pls try not to inhale the water).... when he doesn't hide his feelings from blitzø we see how perfect it could be when their inner worlds merge and they are finally on the same page, and blitzø does the furthest thing possible from pushing stolas away !!!

(he did however still neglect to consider octavia's feelings when he decided to drop everything for blitzø... with devastating implications in mastermind) sorry to bring the mood down but this needs to be pointed out

in ozzie's, stolas tries to invite blitzø to his place (and we all remember how well that went)........ blitzø goes home alone and loona is not there, he is all alone and sad curled up on the couch on his phone looking at all the people he believes he's let down and it's heartbreaking

when stolas goes to blitzø's place in mastermind, stolas gets all the love and support blitzø has to offer and loona is there too and blitzø curls up on the couch on his phone looking at all these people who love and support him!!! and then he makes the couch all comfy for stolas and he’s not alone?? like they’re both so not alone that it hurts my heart to think about. these 2 have so much love for each other and yeah there's gonna be tough times ahead but they are not alone! !!!!

basically both eps end the same? but also everything is better now? because blitz was loved before he just couldn’t see it through all his nonsense

and stolas is still in a messed up situation and he's still kinda problematic and he couldn’t see it before through all his nonsense but now he’s more self aware?

the real difference is they have each other now! they are so not alone it makes them look stupid!!

anyway this is the longest post i've ever made sorry if it's rambly i have adhd and a lot of feelings about these two

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Ambiance (M, allergies)

Idk who I turned into the past two days, but somehow I bestow upon you all allergy sneeze porn with absolutely zero plot lmaoo. Uhhh, I don't write many allergy fics! I've maybe written 3 my entire life, so if it sucks that's why. In it, Mark is given the task of setting out flowers that he's super allergic to on the tables at work and that's literally it. The rest is sneezing hahaha.

Welp, I hope you guys like this, it was certainly a fun write, though I feel a little weird putting out a fic that has no drama in it at all lmao. Would love to hear how you feel about it! Hope you like sneezing HAHAHA.

On with the show!

CW: Male snz, allergy snz (from flowers), some mess (more implied than explicit). 2.2k words below the cut.

Ambiance

The moment Mark stepped through the back kitchen doors, Elijah swooped in like a hawk and handed him a comically-sized bouquet. “I have a project for you,” he said, distractedly.

Oh, you have got to be shitting me, Mark thought. From behind the bouquet, he tried to make his voice as light and joking as possible. “Does it have something to do with the… mountain of flowers?”

Elijah snorted. “How’d you guess,” he said, tapping something into his phone. The GM let loose an exasperated sigh, shoved his phone into his pocket, and regarded Mark with a look that suggested his patience, even at ten in the morning, was running thin.

“We’ve gotten three reviews in the past week saying that we don’t have enough ambiance,” Elijah rolled his eyes. “I swear to god, it must be those women who came in last Sunday and were pissed that we didn’t have bottomless mimosas. Anyway, I’m sick of seeing two-star reviews, so we’re ambiance-ing the fuck out of this place. You’re on flowers, Greyson is hanging fairy lights. I’m replacing all the lightbulbs in the lamps at the tables with those dark-as-fuck ones so no one can read the fucking menus.” Elijah held his hands up, as if in surrender. “You get the picture.”

Mark nodded slowly, his nose twitching inadvertently. “Are these, like, a vase at the host stand type deal, or…?” Elijah shook his head as he pulled out his phone.

“Three per table,” he explained, typing once again. “I switched out the stick-things we had as centerpieces for little vases.” He glanced up from the phone briefly, then furrowed his brow, concerned. “You good?”

Mark opened his mouth to respond, but instead wrenched into his shoulder. “NTSHH! HRRSHH!” Keeping his eyes closed, Mark took a moment to gather himself. Don’t, he thought, an internal warning to all of his systems. You are fine. Keep it together.

“Bless you,” Elijah said, an eyebrow now raised. “You feeling alright?”

Mark nodded, a quick, curt motion. “All good,” he said, moving the flowers to be cradled in one arm instead of right in front of his fucking face, why didn’t you move them before?! “Three per table,” he parroted. “Heard.”

Elijah nodded back. “Okay,” he said, his face betraying his confusion. “Great. Thanks, Mark. I have to go pick up tablecloths, apparently the launderers are down a van this week. Give me a call if you guys need anything while I’m gone, okay?”

“Yes, sir,” Mark managed, one hand unconsciously moving to paw at his nose. “Will do.”

The GM moved past the floor manager, pushed through the back kitchen doors to the alley, and let the door fall closed behind him. The moment it did, Mark tossed the bouquet onto the closest prep table and folded in half.

“HRRSHH-uh! NTSHH-oo! NXTSH! Hh’ITSZHH! HRRSHH-ue!” Mark stood, panting, for a moment before allowing himself to glance back at the flowers – chrysanthemums. Just as he assumed. Fuck.

***

11:09AM

Mark

babe, I need your help with something

11:10AM

Matt

uhhhh, ok? where tf are you, btw? I thought you were scheduled in at 10

11:10AM

Mark

im here. im in the guest bathroom, can you just come here for like five seconds.

11:11AM

Mark

bring the benedryl from the drawer in the office, pls.

When Matt walked through the guest bathroom door, he had not one iota of a clue what was going on with Mark; the man could certainly be cryptic when he wanted to be, but this was a whole other level.

“Hello?” Matt called into the seemingly-empty bathroom. “Mark, are you-”

“HRSSH! Huh-! USHH-ue! HTSH, HTSH, HTSH-ue! HH-! NTXSHH-ue! God, fuck mbe.”

Matt furrowed his eyebrows together. “Babe?” he asked, moving towards the furthest stall. Without thinking, he pushed the door – unlocked – and stared at his boyfriend. “Jesus Christ, Mark.”

His boyfriend was standing with his back toward the door, but turned when he heard Matt enter. Mark seemed to be stuck in some sort of a tortured-looking pre-sneeze, his eyes were rimmed red and weeping, and when he spoke, his voice was completely waterlogged. “Oh, thangk god,” Mark managed when he saw the Benedryl in Matt’s hand. He took it, dry swallowed, and immediately turn back into his elbow to – “HNSTCHH-oo!”

“What the fuck happened?” Matt asked as Mark attempted to clean himself up. “You were fine when you left the house this morning.”

“HRRSHH-ue! NTGSHH!” Mark pinched his nose between two fingers to attempt to quell the fit – for the moment, it seemed to have worked. Rubbing a streaming eye with one hand, Mark pushed past his boyfriend and moved towards the sink. “Do you remember that timbe you brought mbe flowers? I thingk it was like our second dahh – HTSH! NTSH! HXGTSHH-ue! Jesus fuckigg christ.” Mark pulled a paper towel from the dispenser to blow his nose while Matt mulled it over in his mind. Finally, a look of sordid remembrance colored his face.

“Oh, fuck,” Matt said. “You don’t mean the fucking chrysanthemum incident, do you?” A look from behind the paper towel confirmed that yes – that was exactly what Mark meant. “Who the fuck brought you flowers at work?” Matt asked, envy coating his voice. Mark coughed out a laugh.

“Jealous?” he asked, tossing the paper towel and washing his hands. Matt rolled his eyes. “They’re for the restaurant. Elijah gave mbe this big-ass bouquet the second I walked in and put mbe in charge of putting themb on the tables,” Mark explained, straightening his tie and pushing back his hair. It was for naught; no one would be able to look past his swollen eyes and streaming nose at this point. “Apparently we’re gettigg bad reviews for lack of ambiaahhh – HNTSHH-uh! NGTSH! Huh -! HTXSH! NGTXSH!” Mark attempted to stifle another round of painful-sounding sneezes, while Matt cringed behind him.

“Could you please just sneeze normal?” he asked, pressing a hand into the small of his boyfriend’s back. “You sound like you’re going to burst a blood vessel.” Mark rubbed his nose on the back of his hand and gave Matt a look in the mirror.

“I genuinely thingk I wouldn’t be able to stop if I wasn’t tryigg to hold them back,” he said, clearing his throat. Matt pressed his lips together.

“Has Elijah seen the, uh… state he put you in yet? Why didn’t you just tell him you’re super fucking allergic to chrysanthemums?” he asked. Mark shook his head.

“He had to go get tablecloths. I doubt he even kndows what kind of flowers they are, and honestly, he already seembed pissed off, I didn’t want to pile ohh -” Mark said, his face already starting to collapse as another fit rapidly approached. “Fugck – HRTSHH-oo! HTSH, HXGTSH, ITSZCHH-ue! Huh – HUHHESCHOO!” Finally, Mark allowed one grating, throat-scraping, full sneeze out. As it did, his hand flew up to cover his nose and mouth. Matt cringed – partially in sympathy and partially in mild disgust – and pulled a handful of paper towels from the dispenser to hand to his boyfriend.

“Dude,” Matt said as Mark blew his nose. “How the hell are you going to work like this?”

Tossing the paper towels and rubbing his eyes again, Mark just shrugged. “Hopefully the Benedryl starts workigg soond.”

“And what do you think Elijah is going to say when you’re half-asleep and doped up on Benedryl?” Matt asked.

“To be honest,” Mark said, “I thingk anything would be better than thiihh – ITSZCHH-ue!”

***

“Mark, pre-shift!”

Startled, and pulled from a Benedryl-induced near-coma, Mark bolted upright. His eyes flicked to the corner of his computer screen – 4:31PM. Fuck, had he really fallen asleep for almost an hour?

Before the impromptu nap, Mark thought he’d finally gotten it mostly back together. He’d splashed enough water on his face to waterboard an elephant, he’d blown his nose until both his ears popped, and he’d avoided the dining room like the plague, insisting instead to Elijah – who, fortunately, couldn’t look up from his phone long enough to see his floor manager’s eyes swelling near-shut – that he would work on schedules in the office so his boss could continue to zhuzh up the front of house. Thankfully, his boss had agreed.

Apparently, though, the Benedryl had taken its well-known promise that you can’t sneeze if you’re wracked out a little too seriously, because Mark couldn’t for the life of him remember anything past sitting down and opening the schedule up on the computer. Now, he was attempting to smooth his shirt, push his hair back into submission, and try to look like he hadn’t spent the last sixty minutes drooling onto the desk.

“Sorry, sorry,” Mark said as he entered the dining room. “Lost track of time.”

“It’s fine,” Elijah said, curt. From his peripherals, Mark could see Matt tossing him a concerned look – one that he refused to meet. The GM handed the floor manager a copy of the cover count over one of the vases Mark had filled earlier that day – as his hand brushed against one of the flowers, he could feel the relentless fucking itch reenter his nose. Well, Benedryl, the important thing is you tried, he thought, staring as hard as he could at the paper. Focus, idiot, fucking focus.

“Alright, guys so tonight – shit,” Elijah pulled out his phone as he began pre-shift, swearing when it started vibrating in his hand. “Fuck, that’s the lighting guys, I have to take this. Mark, you run things. I’ll be right back.”

Oh, no.

Elijah stepped into the kitchen and the servers trained their eyes on Mark; he could immediately feel the itch lodge itself directly between his eyeballs. Pawing at his nose, the floor manager looked down; just get through the covers, you can do this.

“Ah – okay,” Mark began. “So tondight we have one twenty on the booooh…” Not even one sentence in, Mark could feel himself gearing up to sneeze. The first five, he managed to stifle into complete silence, his fist pressed against his nose. Mark let out a shaky breath as the servers, Greyson, and Matt murmured a collective Bless you; that phrase alone was enough to set him off completely.

“HTSCHH-uh!” The first out-loud sneeze caught him off-guard enough to catch in his palm – gross, he thought to himself, as if the rest of this fit wasn’t going to be. “HTSHH! NGTSHH! Hh’RRSCHH-ue! Fuck – NTSHH-ue! HRRESCHH-ue! ITSZCH! NGTXCH! Huh-! ESCHH-oo!”

“Christ, Mark,” Greyson said, his voice more annoyed than concerned. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

Unable to answer, Mark just turned away from the table, away from the chefs and servers, and folded himself in half over his own lap. “HRRSHH-uh! Huh-! HUHESTCHOO!”

From the kitchen, Elijah called, “The fuck is going on out there?”

If he wasn’t so completely caught up in relentless itch, Mark would have been horrified, beyond embarrassed. As it was, he could only focus on one thing: “NTSHH! Huh’GTSHH! Fuckigg – HRRSHH-oo!”

Elijah had made his way back out to the dining room and was standing over the floor manager, confused and a little disgusted. Between sneezes, he placed a hand on Mark’s head. “You aren’t warm,” he mused as they all watched Mark succumb again and again.

“He isn’t sick,” Matt called from behind them. “He’s – Christ, Mark I don’t understand why you didn’t just tell him earlier – he’s like, insanely allergic to chrysanthemums.”

Elijah glanced briefly at the flowers on the table, then turned back to Mark, who had both arms over his head in an attempt to cover the mess that was his face. “Mark…?” Elijah asked, handing the floor manager a perfectly-folded napkin from the table before them. “I assume that’s, uh… true?”

Mark took the napkin, too exhausted and fucking itchy to be ashamed. He wiped his face as well as he could and sat up; one of his eyes was swollen half-shut, his nose was streaming down his face, and he could feel his lungs starting to constrict with the effort of sneezing so fucking much. “Yeah,” he admitted, voice husky and congested. “Yeah, I amb. HRRTSHH-oo! Huh-ITSZCHH-ue!”

Immediately, Elijah sprung into action. He turned towards the servers – all of whom seemed to be frozen, unsure of what to do about the scene before them – and clapped his hands. “Fuck, alright, okay guys, everyone needs to go around and take the flowers off the tables. Throw them in the dumpster outside, alright? We’ll figure out something else to do with the vases tomorrow.”

The servers complied immediately, collecting the offending flowers while Mark, ever the realist, gave his boss as dogged a look as he could imagine. “But… what about the ambiance?” he asked, a question so ridiculous that Elijah, Greyson, and Matt all choked out the same tension-breaking laugh.

“Mark,” Elijah said, placing a careful hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “Ambiance… the ambiance isn’t going to mean much if the background music is drowned out by you, uh… sneezing until you pass out. You know what I mean?”

Mark colored – his embarrassment a good sign that the fit was finally letting up. “Oh,” he said, sucking in through his nose. “Yeah, I guess… I guess that mbakes seeehhh – NGTZCH-uh!” This one, he attempted to stifle into his shoulder, making Elijah and Greyson cringe.

“Why don’t you, uh… run home and change, kid,” Greyson said, locking eyes with Elijah. “Maybe just, like, throw those clothes away.” Elijah nodded in vehement agreement.

“We’ll hold the fort down,” he said, patting Mark on the back. Mark just nodded as both of the senior managers walked back into the kitchen.

Alone but for his boyfriend, Mark let out a congested sigh and leaned his head on Matt’s shoulder. “You doin’ okay?” Matt asked after a minute or so. Mark coughed, shrugged.

“I mbean, if I haven’t died of fuckigg embarrassmbent after that, I thingk I’ll probably live forever,” he joked, rubbing his swollen eye until he saw stars. Gently, Matt removed his boyfriend’s hand from his face and kissed his palm. They sat in silence like that for awhile, until Matt’s breathing finally got back to mostly-normal.

“Fucking chrysanthemums,” Matt muttered, coursing a hand through Mark’s hair. The other man huffed out a laugh.

“Fuckigg chrysanthemuuhh… HUHHHTSCHOO!”

[edsheeranong]

sweet pea x fem oc

A/N- i've never written before and idk if anyone will even see this but pls be nice. i've also not really watched riverdale in many years so i'm trying to piece things together but it won't follow the plot very well.

-archie andrews twin sister, delilah, is fed up with him being overprotective. so when a cute serpent offers her an opportunity, she can't turn it down

"andrews," an unfamiliar voice called out. delilah hummed in response, not bothering to look who it was and instead continued piling notebooks out of her locker. "i hear your brother doesn't like you dating, he goes around and tells everyone not to go near you, 'or else'" the boy said.

"can i help you with something or...?" delilah said, closing her locker and looking at the boy.

"sweet pea," he extended his hand out to her. she readjusted the stack of book in her hands to shake his. "i've got a proposition for you," he stated.

"look, you wouldn't be the first boy to think he can get with me without my brother finding out," she started walking and followed her. "it never ends well."

"i think i can handle him," he stated. she turned to look at him and realized he had a point. he was incredibly tall and muscular. "but anyway that's not what i'm suggesting," he pulled her into an alcove. "i hate your brother, he thinks he's the shit and he keeps messing with southsiders."

"why are you telling me this?" she cut him off.

"i think we can help each other out," he said, resulting in a raised eyebrow from the girl. "you hate him for controlling you, i just hate him."

"okay, i don't hate my brother," she said.

"but you're fed up with him telling everyone not to go out with you?" he asked, and she sighed and murmured in agreement. "i'm suggesting a little revenge."

"why me?" she asked, he was getting annoyed at how she kept interrupting him.

"i'm probably the person your brother hates most, at least at this school. and i hate your brother so much, being with his sister would just kill him," he explained.

"'with' as in..." she said.

"dating," he clarified.

"let me get this straight, you want me to fake date you so you can get back at my brother for being a dick and i can get back at him for controlling my love life?"

"yep, pretty much," he shrugged.

"i'm still confused," she admitted. "if we're not actually together, you're not really getting back at him."

"if he believes we're together, then it's like i took something from him. he tries so hard to keep you away from guys, and his number one enemy being the one you defy him for. it'll make him go crazy."

"it'll make things worse, he's only gonna harass you more," delilah pointed out.

"once again, i can deal with him," he said. "just think about it," he walked away, leaving her to think.

she walked home alone and really thought about his proposal. she was fully on board with showing archie he couldn't control her, but she was scared of what he would do to sweet pea. it was all she thought about that entire night and she decided she just needed to sleep on it.

the entire next day she kept trying to find a time to talk to him but he was always with someone.

she was about to take it as a sign but as she was leaving school, she turned the corner and ran right into him. he grabbed her arm to stabilize her and raised his eyebrows at her.

"so?" he asked.

"i'm down," she told him. he smirked at her and they started walking. he led her to the back of the school where his bike was. he handed her his helmet and she hesitated before taking it.

"well it would be bad manners not to drive my girl home," he said, noticing her confused expression.

"okay hold up," she said as he mounted the bike. "i think we need to have a conversation about this."

"what is there to talk about?"

"uh, i don't know. how long are we gonna do this for?" she sat down on the ledge in front of him.

"until we decide we've had enough," he said.

"okay... how is this... gonna work?" she asked and he pondered for a moment.

"well, we should make sure archie sees us together, obviously. but we gotta keep this act up around other people too," he pulled his leg off his bike and stepped closer to her, putting his hands on her knees and spreading them so he could stand between them.

Sweet pea took the moment of silence to take a good look at her. he had seen her around school, of course, but it was always from a distance. her hair was usually messy, due to the loose curls in it.

but looking at her up close was different. her eyes were bright green and her skin was almost sickly pale. she had freckles littered about her face. she was a lot to take in.

it shocked him how different she looked from her twin brother. he had bright red hair and dark eyes but her hair was pitch black and piercing green eyes.

"okay," she managed to finally get out. "i have some rules though."

"rules?" he threw his head back. "i don't really do rules."

"we get it, you're a bad boy," she rolled her eyes at him. "and yes i have rules. number one, we keep my dad out of this. he's been through a lot recently and i don't want to stress him out more," she waited for a sign be understood and when he nodded his head she continued. "number two, nothing too physical. i've never had a boyfriend before and i don't want all my firsts to be wasted on a boy-"

"like me?" he cut her off. "a serpent? a southsider?"

"who isn't actually my boyfriend," she finished, clearly annoyed.

"fine, but nobodies going to believe we're dating if i can't kiss you," he pointed out.

"you can kiss me, but i'm not doing anything more," she told him. "number three, you can't tell anyone this isn't real. if it got back to archie, neither of us would live to see another day."

"my lips are sealed," he said. "now if that's all..." he picked her up by her waist and gently placed her on the ground. "i think it's time we set the plan in motion," he gestured toward his bike.

"sure, but archie won't be home," she said as he placed the helmet on her head and messed with the straps.

"where will he be?" he got back on his bike and patted the space behind him.

"him and veronica go to pops every friday after school," she explained, carefully climbing on the bike. he grabbed her arms and placed them around his torso.

"then i guess i know where we're going," he started his bike. "hold on tight."