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tteokdoroki · 9 months

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IF IT’S ONLY A TOUCH…AITA? - satoru gojo.

✩ — about. “but one day, she just grew up…and i haven’t been able to look at her the same.” satoru gojo never meant to fuck his best friend’s little sister. he never meant to make her fall in love him. he never meant to fall in love with her. satoru doesn’t want anyone to know, suguru has no idea and she wants to tell the whole world…does that make him the asshole? … ( 46.5K )

✩ — warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! nsfw, smut, angst with a bittersweet ending. college!au, age gaps ( reader is 22, satoru gojo is 27 ), forbidden romance, toxic relationships, situationships, co-dependency ( on suguru geto ), controlling older brother, panic attacks, violence, fight scenes, arguments, alcohol mentions, smoking weed, manipulation, gaslighting, three smut scenes, spit, praise, dumbification, fingering (f!receiving), hand jobs (m!receiving), pussy jobs, dry humping, hold the moan, light!choking, light!oral-fixation, public sex, bathroom sex, clothed sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (f + m!receiving), overstimulation, orgasm control, multiple orgasms, creampies, adopted geto!reader, fem!reader.

✩ — things to note. my entry for @ohkento ‘s reddit collab ! i’d like to thank everyone for their patience with this labour of love. it was first a silly idea that blossomed into something more complex and beautiful. i love this fic so much and i hope you do too!! special thanks to @todorosie for beta reading n all your encouragement!! and to @rinhaler for the sukuna reference hehe <3 - m.list ⋆ playlist ⋆ read on ao3 ! ִ ࣪𖤐₊ ⊹

AITA (27M) FOR FUCKING MY BEST FRIEND'S (26M) LITTLE SISTER (22F)? hey reddit. i’ll get straight into it. i met my best friend, we’ll call him S, when we were kids, as young as five i guess, and we’ve been inseparable ever since. he was there for me at my lowest, and right by my side at my highest. i’ve never been the greatest person…but there isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for me and vice versa. that’s why i feel so bad. he’s got this younger sister, i used to find her so annoying, but one day… she just grew up and i haven’t been able to look at her the same. we started fooling around two years ago around the time she’d settled into college but decided to keep it a secret from her brother. now she’s graduated from college and wants to take the next step… TLDR: we’ve been fucking around for two years but now she’s graduated and is ready to be more serious with our relationship. she wants to tell her brother — i’m unsure. AITA?

coming back home after four years of brutal education, late nights studying and heavy textbooks feels… almost comforting.

sure, you’ve been home for the holidays before, and sometimes between semesters when things got a little bit rough. but this time around, being home feels more like a relief — an aura of permanency surrounding the occasion. at home, there’s home cooked meals instead of stale take-out and the house you’ve been raised in smells of warm spices rather than the unpleasant combination of old beer and dorm parties.

there’s peace in being at home instead of college after four long years. it’s rewarding almost, to know that you’re welcomed back into the arms of the people who love you most after years of blood, sweat and tears. you’ve made it. you’re on the other side. you’ve got a degree under your belt and a bright, prosperous future ahead of you.

letting out a determined huff, you throw your suitcases down onto the end of your bed — pushed up against the window of your childhood bedroom. the walls are a colour you no longer like (lime green… what were you thinking?) plastered with posters from groups you no longer listen to and movies you would only watch for comfort now that you’re a little bit older. nostalgia is warm under your skin as you look around at your teenage safe space, until your big doe eyes land on your sticker covered closet.

being home for just the weekend, you thought you’d kill two birds with one stone. unpack the clothes you no longer need at your college dorm whilst joining your parents for a celebration. they had wanted you to come down from your university town in order to commemorate the end of your degree, since they’ll be abroad on business for your graduation ceremony in a few months time. not to mention, the outstanding job offer you’d received not long after being awarded your final marks.

your brother, suguru, would be joining you for the weekend as well. temporarily taking up space in his own childhood bedroom just across the hall — the keep out sign with black and yellow restricted tape still hanging from the white wooden door. geto had long since moved out of your parents place, what with him being five years older than you. he now had a job in the city as a big shot lawyer with hardly any time for his little sister anymore. so the fact that he was making the trip down just to celebrate you meant more than you could put into words.

he hadn’t arrived yet, however, and your parents were busy downstairs sorting out your favourite home cooked dinner (oxtail, a favourite) to care about what you were up to — leaving you to unpack in comfortable solitude. you decide to start with your night clothes, the darkness of the winter’s evening starting to bleed into the purple painted sky. you’ll be sleepy soon, no doubt.

turning your back on the window, you move to set your toiletries and a fresh pair of pyjamas on the back of your desk chair — hardly noticing the way the window panes creak open, accompanied by the chill of a light december breeze. the gentle tread of footsteps across your carpeted floor go without attention as well, you’re too occupied with sorting through your things to pay attention to anything. not until it’s too late.

“boo!”

large and possessive hands on your hips make you jump in fright, relaxing only when you hear the familiar teasing baritone against the shell of your ear. “did you miss me?” gojo purrs, using his hold on the flesh at your waist to spin you around to face him. your palms settle on the broad spread of his sturdy shoulders while his fingers dip into the back pocket of your low-waist jeans — leaving very little room between your bodies.

“satoru!” you exhale sincerely with the wisps of a smile spreading across your lips and twitching at the corner of your mouth. “what are you doing here? when did you get back?” like butter in a heated pan, you melt into the man’s arms, those same arms wrapping around your waist fully to pull you further into him. you feel dumb and lovestruck, tucked into the plushness of gojo’s chest as if you’d never left.

“i couldn't miss my special girl’s special weekend, now could i?” the toothy smirk satoru gives you is enough to make your knees knock and you’re reminded that you’re lucky enough to be held up in his arms. happiness simmers hotly through your veins at the thought. a million and one girls would kill to be in your position, to have a man as handsome as the satoru gojo in their bedroom, all alone, sapphire blue eyes honed in on you and only you.

he’s unlike any man you’ve ever met before. he’s so beautiful, not just anyone will do if it ever came to replacing him. he’s tall enough to tower over you, and make you feel small in a way that isn’t terrible at all. his hair is as white as winter frosts and unfairly soft for someone who probably doesn’t take as much care for it as he should. his lashes flutter against your forehead, long and to die for. satoru gojo is a beauty if you ever saw one — and you find yourself grateful to keep him all to yourself. in this moment. of course.

the look he gives you itself is enough to keep you alive, make your cheeks tingle with heat just under the skin, make you feel like a schoolgirl about to give a note to her crush. but a million and one girls don’t have to hide their crushes or keep them secret, their relationships probably aren’t as complex or confusing as your own with the man before you.

things with gojo have always been weird…ever since you were young. he found you annoying and whiny, back then, he along with your adoptive brother would pick on you until your eyes were big and shiny and your nose a little snotty. in those times, suguru (who babied you too much for your own good on occasion) often followed his best friend’s lead, maybe because satoru was older (despite them both being five years ahead of you in age) and the more dominating personality of the two best friends. it was easy to think that he might have even despised you then, or to imagine that suguru would grow up adoring you. yet, for satoru, it all changed one summer after your eighteenth birthday, when you just… shot up. you filled out, your demeanour changed, you became everything that he ever wanted.

satoru was spoilt. he always had been, even from childhood. the gojo clan had built an empire and he was right at the heart of it as soon as he left college. the white haired man with the dazzling rows of perfect teeth had all the money and power in the world — right in the palm of his dangerous hands. obtaining what he wanted was as easy as snapping his fingers, and in an instant he could have all the booze and babes he desired. whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. the issue with being a man of satoru gojo’s calibre is the difficulty in drawing a line in the sand and knowing when to stop. men like him have everything, but only desire what they can’t have.

he only desires you.

see, early on in his friendship with your brother, suguru had given satoru one plain and simple rule. one that he could never break so long as he walked god’s green earth and breathed fresh air into his lungs.

suguru had made him promise never to go near you, sexually or romantically.

they’d known one another their entire lives, been together through thick and thin, ups and downs. if anyone knew what the real satoru gojo was really like… it would be your brother. he had seen every arc of gojo like the phases of the moon up above. satoru was a partier, he drank until his veins were 50% alcohol and poured the bourbon until all of his organs were burned black. he smoked away his burdens, numbing his brain with whatever he could get his hands on. people, back in college, were just as disposable to gojo as his father’s income and even now, with his position at the heart of Gojo Corporations — satoru was no more stable than a drowning child, struggling to keep his head above the water and air in his scarred lungs.

he was in no position to look out for you like suguru did. to the older geto, you were a prized possession and a treasure to be cherished. his innocent baby sister who was too sweet for the hard liquor gojo drank by the gallons and the papers that knew to tear him apart by name. you needed someone to rely on, someone to look out for you when the world gets tough and the rose tinted glass ceiling shatters down on you. suguru had tried his hardest to shield to growing up, becoming partly responsible for your dependence on him.

he learned how to braid your hair and cook the foods you liked before moving to japan for your adoption. when he wasn’t being mean to you along with satoru, suguru cared for you deeply. he was a good adoptive brother.

so, it was a wonder how you even managed to get into and go to university all on your own — without your older brother’s watchful eye to keep you safe from the dangers of men, sex and money.

and gojo, being gojo, was never a stickler for the rules. he’d innocently reached out to you once you’d settled into college, under the guise of checking on his best friend’s little sister. much to his amusement, you’d already broken out of the safety net your brother had cast over you — you were more brazen and adventurous, sleeping around between study sessions and partying when you’d told your family you were tired from the week’s work.

before anyone knew it, you’d become the college girl who liked to be wined and dined by older men — presenting the perfect opportunity for satoru to sweep you off your feet.

texts to check on you every once in a while became calls to ask about your day and wish each other good morning and good night. these little things, as sweet as they might have seemed, snowballed into something bigger. something more. at least to you. you were falling in love with satoru gojo, and fast. it was the first time you’d ever felt like that towards someone, and he’d gotten you right where he wanted you.

it wasn’t long before you were paying off your dorm mates to keep quiet about having an older man over, no less gojo. you were naive but not stupid, it wouldn’t take an idiot to know that geto had people keeping an eye on you nor that money was what made the world go round — people would do anything for a hefty price or designer bag. they kept their lips sealed each and every time gojo swung by your dorm to pin your knees to your ears and fuck you raw until your voice was hoarse and there was a dent in your wall from the force of his thrusts against the bed frame.

satoru had been the one to take your virginity, of course. suguru would have had an aneurism if he ever found out.

and while you loved the thrill of sneaking around with someone older, someone who seemed to know the world better than you ever could, someone who excited you — there were times where you wished your heart hadn’t chosen the enigma that is satoru gojo. your relationship with him ruined the little time you had to explore yourself in college. he knew all of your friends, he knew all of the boys in your classes and the ones that dared to hang out with you outside of them. he sometimes paid them off to break your heart or cheat on you just so that you’d go running back into his arms — bleary eyed and emotionally drained.

satoru knew about your every move — the parties you went to and the socials you attended. you were never able to mess around with people, not with the tabs he had on you. silly little you, don’t you know? you’re satoru’s property.

the worst thing he could have done to you is fail to put a label on your relationship. you were never his girlfriend and he would always dance around the question like he was avoiding a bullet to the chest. ‘what are we?’ you would ask, and like always, satoru would grin lazily and slowly — in the way that brews a hazy fog over your mind and respond with. ‘whatever you want me to be.’

what you wanted was something official. not to be satoru’s little pet, hidden away from the rest of the world while in private he promises you that you’re the only girl he’s ever loved. it hit hardest whenever you would go to visit him, noting another’s car in the driveway that wasn’t yours or satoru’s. you knew that you never meant much…but in actuality it was slowly killing you now. he gave you comfort, gave you warmth but whenever you woke, he was gone by the morning. that’s how it always was.

a piece of you threatened to crumble each and every time your lover was plastered over the tabloids and gossip magazines with another heiress. you wanted to tell the world that you were his and he was yours. you wanted suguru to know too.

oftentimes, satoru would ease your worries with a simple toe curling and mind numbing kiss to your butter-glossed lips, uttering the words ‘but, wouldn’t that ruin our little secret?’

the very secret made you feel dirty and used.

if satoru didn’t let you, then you could never bring yourself to tell suguru. it would break his heart, his entire soul to know that his angelic little sister was taking her eyes off of the very expensive prize of her university degree. and so, the track of your fragmented relationship (situationship?) with your mischievous white haired lover replays over and over again like a broken record — scratched and scathed.

satoru comes over, you fight or cry, and he ends up balls deep inside of you — creaming your little cunt in a hotel off campus or paying off your friends to spend your night in your dorm again.

when you finally graduated, you remember one of said friends asking. ‘will you ever go public with that… guy you’re always fucking? i mean… he practically lives with you.’

at the time, you’d pressed your lips into a thin and telling line. you couldn’t. you wouldn’t. they’d laughed about it then and you knew what conclusions were running through their minds. what a dumb, naive little rich girl, for thinking she was anything more than a sidechick.

if only you could just show them the lengths satoru would go to be with you in the secrecy of your own little bubble.

like right now.

“sweetheart, where’d you go?” cocking his head down at you, satoru’s sugarcoated, sickly sweet coo runs through your ears like molten sugar and drags you from the depths of deep thought. he clicks his teeth, using a thumb and forefinger to tilt your head up in order to face him — positioning you like his own marionette doll. “came all this way to see you, only for you to get lost in that pretty little head of yours.”

it’s patronising, the way he speaks to you as if you’re a child — but it’s all you’ve ever known. being babied by your lover and even your brother. “s-sorry! i was just… thinking…” you supply as a meek excuse, shuddering when gojo slips a thumb over the slightly cracked skin of your bottom lip. the impending winter’s cold had been nipping at it in his place.

“about me?”

you scoff playfully, begrudgingly pulling yourself from satoru’s grip before he makes your brain too overcast to even focus about unpacking. “about graduation. i can’t believe it’s all over.”

returning to unfolding some casual wear left in your bag, your mind begins to wander if satoru misses you as much as you miss him whenever you’re not touching. your skin feels alive, teaming with life, whenever he’s nearby — as if two magnets that couldn’t be more different have attracted one another instead of repelling. it’s like you need to be near him in order to breathe, to feel, to exist.

your…boyfriend? makes himself comfortable on your bed, trailing his index finger over the pink patterned sheets. you realise then, that you’ll never truly understand what’s going on in his head.

“i am proud of you, yanno.” gojo comments casually. he man-spreads across the edge of your bed, leaning back against his elbows as if to draw your eyes to the treasure between his thick jean-clad thighs. “not every day my pretty baby graduates with honours. such a smart little girl, hm?” it’s cruel really, how dumb he makes you out to be — but in a way, it makes your insides twist and a flutter make its way up to your chest.

you shrug as if it’s nothing, hanging your clothes up in the closet before you return to the bedside. “it’s a wonder i managed, ‘toru. you were always distracting me,” memories of your illicit activities on nights before papers were due or exams were to be taken flash behind his vibrant azure eyes, and satoru grins mischievously as his strong arms snake around your waist — his head pressed against your smooth tummy. “i have to unpack.” you remind him gently.

but then he looks up at you, like a sweet pet that begs for food, dragging you into the shining blue pools of his eyes that you can never seem to escape. and before you know it, you’re drowning in gojo’s attention once again.

“did you miss me?”

satoru let’s his fingers slide under your loose top and gives your hips a possessive squeeze, watching you with baited breath.

“‘toru, you’ve asked me that already.”

he squeezes again, harder, the rough pads of his fingers sinking into your mid-section, all needy like. he’s desperate to know that you haven’t found anyone else. “i missed you,” satoru quips in place of your silence. “i hate being away from you for so long, work sucks.”

as if he ever did any real work. satoru was just the pretty poster boy for his dad’s company — it worked out well though, you’d seen the amount of zeros in his bank account yourself. “i’ll be getting a job too, did you know that? at that big fashion editorial. you know the one, Heavenly Pact magazine. it’ll be in the city too so we can be closer together. it’s why suguru is taking us to dinner.”

satoru finds your gushing adorable, pulling you to stand between his legs as you go on and on.

“and where d’ya think suguru got that idea from?” he coos. “i had him set up a reservation at that place you like… yanno, the one where we spent our two years. something about the sushi there. you liked it.”

satoru talks about the day as if you were really dating. two years. seven hundred and thirty days spent fawning over him and chasing the white haired male like a lost puppy. you couldn’t even call it an anniversary, not when you weren’t official. though, he’d taken the time to spoil you — he dressed you in diamonds and designer, picked you up in a fancy car that probably cost more than your rent, booked out the whole restaurant and filled it with your favourite flowers. gojo had made you feel like you were special, something special to him, and as usual you fell for the smoke screens and mirrors that masked how he truly felt.

how he wanted to own every part of you.

you’d wanted to celebrate two years being tied to one another and he let you, because in order to take — you have to give a little.

gojo somehow feels closer than before, his lips treading lightly over your supple stomach while his thumbs trace circles over your hips. you preen into his touch, love bristling in your chest and replacing the heaviness that weighs it down. “you’re coming?”

“wouldn’t miss it for the world, baby.” comes his husky, breathy whisper — uttered against your warm skin like a promise of love and support. satoru presses a wet kiss just above your navel all while slyly tugging your shirt further up, distracting you from the task at hand (folding clothes).

something stirs within your lower tummy, a blistering hot sensation spreads from your core to your chest, your mind and all four of your limbs as if someone’s thrown gasoline onto a fire. gojo’s curious silver tongue travels further — tracing over the saltine droplets of sweat on your skin while he licks up to your rib cage. every twist of his pink muscle against you makes your breath catch in the ridges of your throat and your entire body wrack with a case of the shakes.

still, you continue to unpack, struggling with the items in your grip as large palms claw up your back and force you down into satoru’s widespread lap, not that you mind — being pressed up all against him. “oooh, that’s cute,” satoru taunts you playfully, pulling back from the love marks he’s painted where your breasts meet your ribs. he blinks over at the article of clothing between your nimble fingers, white flashes tickling your skin as he does so.

his scent is so overwhelming you can’t even think, not at all what one would expect. it’s fresh, almost cold to inhale, like peppermint, pine and cool air from the highest peak of the mountain.

you look down at gojo dumbly, earning yourself the sound of his melodious laughter. in response, he juts his head in the direction of your hand. “your bra, you gonna wear that for me?”

shifting your gaze over to the baby blue lace, you grin and toss it aside — using your free hands to push satoru back against your sheets.

“maybe, if you’re lucky.”

he growls in reply, predatory and playful all at once, lifting his head, with his pool of silver-moon hair rising from your bed, to capture your lips in a slow, spit-swapping kiss. he allows you to pin his wrists above his head, barely putting up a fight as you swallow him down and devour him whole — your tongues clash for dominance, slipping and sliding over one another while your hands do the same to the silver roots of his hair.

one of your hands travel down to cup his cheek, tilting gojo’s head up just a tad more so that you can pour more of your passion into him. the kiss becomes, in the only way that you can describe it, hurried and hungry — the more of yourself you give to him, the more satoru becomes filled with your love and innermost parts of your soul. you give and give and give until his glass is full to the brim.

you grow weaker by the second, falling victim to the predatory, hot mouth of your lover and your grip on his wrists loosen just enough for his calloused fingertips to fluidly cascade down your body — finding purchase in the loops of your pesky jeans, tugging them away from your marred flesh and soft ass. once he’s bored with toying with your clothes, the silver haired man uses his reach on your ass to push you closer, kiss you harder, grind his swelling erection into the gap between your plush thighs.

the two of you can’t be closer, noses knocking against one another clumsily and breath becoming scarce as your lungs ache and burn for a fresh in-take of oxygen between drooly lip locks. it’s messy, you’re both messy — your relationship always has been. but in this very moment, you can’t find it in yourself to care, addicted to the weight of gojo’s tongue in your mouth and the way his smooth, glossy lips feel against your own. both of your chests heave, your bodies growing hotter and tenser each time you swirl your hips down onto him or he bucks up into you.

“baby,” satoru sighs airily, twitching underneath you — all restless and impatient. “you’re so pretty like this, on’top’a me,” his crystal blue eyes have darkened to a midnight blue, almost black with a list that makes his pupils blow wide. you’ve seen this change too many times to be unfamiliar with what satoru wants. that very thing being you. “smoke with me a little?” his plea barely covers up the low moan that escapes him as your hips jerk against him. his touch scorches through the all-too-tight denim hugging your waist, leaving burn marks at your tail bone. he’s desperate for this, desperate for you.

how can you say no.

your face splits into an angelic, agreeable grin. just what satoru likes to see. “c’mon then, where’s your stash?” in reply, he lifts his hips higher from the bed — nudging the thick outline of his cock against your sensitive clothed pussy.

“sorry.” he lies easily. “back pocket.”

moving to dig around in said pocket, you pull out gojo’s tiny baggy of weed — noting the joints he’d probably rolled up prior to coming here. sometimes, you had the nagging thought that your man always loved you better when you were a little bit high. you gloss over the idea, however, reaching into your nightstand nearby for your sanrio lighter while you toss gojo the bag. he picks out a blunt for you to share and you trigger the flame.

you take the joint between your lips, plumped up from all the kissing you’ve been doing, and let satoru wrap a bulky arm around your middle — pinning you to his larger-than-yours frame. his chest is plush, warm, and you can feel your heartbeats beginning to sync up beneath your clothes. you hold the lighter to one end, bambi eyes reflecting the orange yellow flame that sets the wrapper alight and hum in content whilst you inhale.

you hold. exhale. and when the smoke clears, gojo is looking up at you as if you hold the entire universe in your gaze.

“you’re so fuckin’ pretty.”

that sweet giggle of yours rings out into the night air. you take a hit before you press your mouth to satoru’s — breathing the smoke into his lungs.

you’re spoiling him. he knows you don’t really like to smoke, but you’re always sweetest when he gets you a little fucked up.

“so you’ve said, ‘toru.”

he swipes the blunt from your grip and takes a drag for himself, tapping the ashes out against your sheets as he picks up the salacious motions of his hips again. and like the obedient little thing you are, you grind against him, mewling into his milky skin that’s illuminated by the shy slither of moonlight that peeks on you both through your curtains.

“i mean it, sweet thing,” another hit, his voice even huskier from the aromatic fumes — even as he gripes lowly into the shell of your ear. “fuck, you’re so perfect like this. grinding on my lap like a needy little girl, hm?”

whining out for him, you let satoru stick the blunt back in your mouth and sit up — bucking down on his hard, heavy erection as if you’re riding his cock like you usually do. “satoru,” you purr while the weed begins to take residence over your brain, take its effect. you recognise that the supply is from sukuna, the older brother of a boy you knew from college. yuuji itadori, was it? you’d always found him cute but he had a girlfriend and gojo told you to stop worrying about him a long time ago. the very thought sparks something in the back of your mind — at war with giving into satoru’s touch and how it makes its way underneath your clothes to thumb at your pebbling nipples. “‘toru…when are you going to tell sugu about us?”

the mention of your brother should be enough to kill the mood, but you’ve been away from gojo far too long. he’s already got his sights set on ruining you for some fun tonight, pushing his luck by slipping his fingers past your tight waistband in order to mess with your slick pussy folds against your panties.

“do i need to?” he drawls, laughs a little, voice breaking through the thick barrier of ardour built up in his throat. “s’not that important. telling him. we’re having fun, right? things are good the way they are.” gojo sticks his tongue out in concentration, fumbling between layers of clothes for your cute little clit and grinning ear to ear when he finds it — watching you quiver and fail to hold yourself up above him as he presses down on the nub, hard. “what good would it do, telling him?”

you could think of a million reasons why, but all of them fail to rush to the forefront of your mind — blocked by desire and the lingering weed in your system. “i…i want to mean somethin’ to you,” comes your babyish voice, hurt and whiny through your pout. satoru takes the blunt from you, rubbing your cunt through your words as they catch in your throat. “wanna be serious with you. want something more. i-i’m a proper adult now… i deserve — oh fuck!”

you don’t even know why you bring the fact up. that you’re an adult, that you’re grown now. because you’re still a naive little thing who wants so much more from someone older and more experienced. because you’re still suguru’s younger sister to satoru, not his girlfriend. just his forbidden plaything.

satoru smiles wickedly again as you fail to express yourself, becoming a pliant sticky mess all over his fingers while their tips graze your clit over and over again in rough circles. “‘m sure you are, my big girl yeah?” he’s so cruel to you, talking down on you while he plays your sopping mound like a fiddle. pinching and pulling at your folds and your poor little clit. “you’re so close, aren’t you? think you might cum from a couple’a fingers ‘n a bit of weed…”

heat brews under the surface of your skin, most hot at the centre of your face where you start to feel humiliated and embarrassed. even more so because you like it, when the silver haired man is mean to you like this. “satoru…t-that’s not what i meant—“ you try, gushing and crying. “s-satoru i’m g-gonna—!”

knock, knock, knock.

“hey little one, i’m home!”

the pair of you jump apart at the smooth sound of suguru’s calm and timbre voice.

it’s like a shock to your system, like being doused with cold water or waking up from a hangover after one too many shots. with wild eyes you look from your half-hard boyfriend to the open window — immediately shoving up and pulling his hands from your pants. “g-get up!” you seethe, teeth and tongue, all of your syllables rushed.

“was that suguru?” gojo asks, voice elevated with panic while he puts the blunt out against your windowsill.

you nod vigorously, using your shaky limbs to push satoru back out the way he came. “yes! now go!”

“hey, little one? it’s me, suguru..”

he scrambles to climb back out the window and you lean over the edge to watch him go — accepting the chaste kiss he gives you on the way out. the second that gojo is out of view, you chuck the half-smoked joint into your trash can and kick the rest of sukuna’s supply underneath your bed to cover up the evidence.

“c-come in!” you finally squeak, putting on your best smile for your adoptive older brother.

your bedroom door swings open, revealing a tired suguru with tousled clothes and sleepy dark eyes. he looks older, maturer, but he’s still the same brother you love and grew up with. “there’s my little princess,” he cheers, tying back the dark tresses of his (much) longer hair before he opens his arms wide to give you a hug.

you quickly accept, nuzzling your cheek against suguru’s firm shoulder (also wiping your tears on him). “sugu! when did you get back?”

“not too long ago. i tried calling, but you didn’t pick up.” his voice is laced with suspicion and you swear you hear him sniff the air from above your head — close to catching the traces of weed on you.

“i was… unpacking!” stepping back, you stumble over to your toiletries that you’d begun to unpack earlier and eagerly (a little too eagerly) spritz some of your expensive perfume into the air. “s-sorry! i’m the thinking of wearing this scent to dinner on sunday…any thoughts?”

you swear you hear gojo groan from outside, no doubt listening in on your conversation with his best friend and your older brother — no doubt finding your excuse flimsily and unbelievable. suguru, despite it all, takes the bait or chooses not to bite any further — his eyes no longer narrowed and his face relaxed.

“speaking of things to wear for sunday night…” he begins, digging deep into his left pocket for a small red velvet box. “i got you a little something, as…congrats for all of your hard work recently.”

suguru reaches forward to take your hand in his, turning it over so that he can place the box in the centre of your palm. you glance up at your older brother hesitantly, but he only gives you a warm reassuring smile — gesturing for you to open it.

you do we told, the box creaking open at his hinges to reveal a real diamond necklace with a beautiful, dazzling sapphire pendant at its centre. just by looking it at it, you know that the sapphire and silver combination will contrast decadently against the deep, sun-kissed tones of your skin.

“o-oh sugu, you shouldn’t have!”

“but i did, think of it as my parting gift to you.” the older geto sibling explains kindly. “you’re going out into the world to do something special, to help people. you deserve to be spoiled before you get there.” his gentle hands close the box for you, setting it aside on your dresser before suguru links your fingers — staring down at you wistfully. “everything out there is dangerous. people will try to take advantage of you and your kindness. but like gem stone in hard shell rock, you must preserve that little shine of yours…” you let him brush at a dry tear mark on your cheek, your fingers slipping down to his wrist to hold them tight. “i will always be here to look out for you, no matter what. but i won’t always be able to be by your side.”

the seriousness of the conversation overwhelms you with a weighty guilt. suguru has always looked after you and done his best to keep you away from any harm. you imagine that satoru would be right in how destroyed your brother would feel after finding out you ran into the arms of the biggest danger of all.

his best friend.

so you suck it up, mask your guilt and press a kiss to your brother’s cheek — hoping that he’ll forgive you if the truth ever surfaces.

“i know, thank you sugu,” comes your simple, appreciative reply. “i’ll always have you, and satoru too.”

he laughs and kisses your forehead “that you will. but don’t get too close to him okay? he’s trouble. i wouldn’t want him to mess things up for you.”

“i know, suguru.”��

the exchange is left at that, with suguru patting your shoulder as he bids you a goodnight. your entire body sags with relief once he’s gone, similar to that of a snake shedding its skin. you can’t keep lying to him like this but you don’t want to break his heart. maybe satoru was right. maybe you were wrong. either way, you feel conflicted and torn between two.

when you go to close the window, satoru is still waiting for you — safely on the ground below. his blue eyes beg to come back inside, to be with you, but you’ve danced with the devil too much tonight. gojo won’t take you seriously. he might ruin things for you, just like your brother said.

“call me when you get home safe, okay?” you murmur to him in order to make sure you don’t get caught.

you latch your window closed right after, not even bothering to wait for gojo’s reply.

either you’ll keep sneaking around with him or you’ll eventually give him up, but for tonight — you decide that you’ll just shut the silver snake out.

“i’ve never known you to like the colour blue so much.”

the day before your fancy and celebratory dinner — suguru geto decided that his spoiled little sister isn't quite spoiled enough. growing up, he’d bring you toys from his shitty part time job at the department store on weekends or food from the chef’s at satoru’s place after hanging out with that loser all day.

in college, it would be magnets or posters or big, surprisingly well-made hoodies from the campus gift shop because suguru would always tell you that his little one would be going to university too — that you’d do him proud and achieve big things. you were destined for so much more and had every ounce of support in your corner. from your brother, your parents…there’s always been a pressure on your shoulder to make something of yourself, become someone worthy of their support.

by the time suguru had graduated and landed his own job — the little gifts he’d gotten you became pricier and more luxurious. your brother had called them items of encouragement, a taste of what was to come once you made it out into the real world. not that he would actually ever let you spend a dime of your own, big brothers were supposed to be there for sweet little sisters like you to fall back on. he wanted you to know that he would always have you covered, have you spoiled with everything you’d ever wanted — mostly to keep your standards high, ensuring that you never settled for anything less than what your older sibling could provide you with.

that’s how days like today first came about — you called it sibling bonding time.

first on the agenda was breakfast at the humble little bakery your parents often treated you both to after a batch of good grades at school. it wasn’t too far from the house and you use the walk to catch up, bouncing excitedly by your brother’s side while he gushed to you about highly classified information from his line of work. there was always something to admire about suguru, how dedicated he was to keeping you safe and making a name for himself outside of the shelter of your home.

in some ways, you wanted to be just like him. it could've been that you admired suguru too much or leaned on him even more. interdependency as some would call it.

that didn’t matter to you though, your relationship with your brother has always been precious to you and that’s all that matters.

the rest of your early morning was spent with a pampering session, manicures, and pedicures and makeup testing — even a trip to the hair stylist who happily braided your bountiful curls into your favourite look.

next, was a late afternoon shopping spree. suguru drives you into the fanciest mall he can think of to spend the day. the elitist of the elite. designer stores were plotted at every corner, stocked to the brim with luxury goods that wouldn’t even put a dent in your brother’s salary nowadays. if you wanted it, you got it — without a word or question against you. suguru let you fill your basket with a purse and bag for the evening ahead, and right now, the last thing on your agenda would be the perfect dress to wear to your dinner.

that’s what had brought you to this very moment, the one where you completely blank on your brother because he’s noticed something different about you.

something akin to a nuisance of a crush on gojo satoru.

blinking once, you turn on your heel to face suguru and snap out of your distant thoughts. “i-i’m sorry, what was that?”

the older, raven haired man smiles at you as if you’re being silly — as though there aren’t any thoughts up in that pretty little head of yours. “i said, you’ve grown awfully fond of the colour blue recently.” he keeps his voice soft and comforting while speaking to you, avoiding any accusatory tones that might set his sensitive younger sister off. “it’s not even your favourite colour.” geto adds, approaching you by the clothes rack in what seems to be your fifth designer fashion store.

you may be spoilt but at least you have taste — the number of zeroes on the price tag was never an issue for your brother anyway.

he gestures down at the items folded over your crossed arms — the ones you wanted to take to the back and try on. heat flashes under the surface of your skin when you realise suguru is in fact right. there’s a plethora of fabric bundled in your arms with only one thing in common.

they all share the shade of a baby powder blue.

it’s the type of blue that reminds you of the sky on days where the weather is just right — when the sun is able to pierce through the veil of fluffy white clouds and shine down on you. the type of blue that hides behind lilac and orange when the sun rises at dawn. the type of blue that sometimes reminds you of clear winter skies after snowfall and drawing shapes in your condensed breath on the glass.

it’s the type of blue akin to satoru gojo’s brilliant eyes — the ones that look as though they hold unseen stars or undiscovered galaxies, the secrets of the universe yet to be known by mankind. oh those eyes, they’re so dreamy that you could get lost in them for a milenia and never be bored.

to anyone who knows about the two of you — it would make sense for blue to have become one of your favourite colours. it is the embodiment of satoru, everything down to loving him is blue, and bleak and beautiful all at once.

yet, suguru could never know that. it would ruin everything.

“i just…i just think it’s pretty!” internally, you feel yourself cringe and the weak excuse — threading your fingers through the dresses in your hold. “don’t you think the colour would like nice on me, sugu? if not, i can put them back—“

your older brother grabs at your wrist before you can even think to commit such an action — stopping you from putting anything back onto the clothes rack. “you’d look pretty in anything you wore, little one.” he lets out a nervous chuckle, moving to pet your head softly. “i just imagined you in something a little more—“

“blue. it’s perfect — isn’t it? it matches my pendant too…” spinning around to face your brother, you hold a beautiful cupcake styled tulle dress to suguru’s gaze, and dawn over its gemstone sweetheart necklace that has a twinkle bright enough to rival satoru’s eyes. you wonder how he’ll look at you once he sees it on you, contrasting perfectly with your warm complexion. a secret, not so innocent part of you hopes that satoru will just rip it off of you. the other, wishes you’d calm down and behave.

suguru offers you a wavering smile, before relenting. “if that’s what you want, sweetheart.” he hums, gesturing towards the fitting rooms. “how about you try it on, see how it looks?”

nodding your head, you shove your discarded choices into his arms and disappear into a booth — excited to see how the article of clothing looks on you. you strip easily, kicking off your jeans while suguru wanders around impatiently outside.

“so…is it a boy that you’re wearing this for?” comes his deep voice through the curtains, lifted in tone only by its teasing lilt.

when you were younger, you would always gush to suguru about your crushes — whether he cared or not, your excited and love-struck musings always struck his ear. you remember being in his room while he studied or gamed, tucked into his side or braiding his luscious black hair while telling him all about how much you loved this one boy in your class. suguru would tell you to mind your heart and keep her safe, a boy who couldn’t buy you diamonds and make you laugh wasn’t the right boy for you.

you would hate to hear what he thinks about gojo then. a man who buys you diamonds, makes you laugh, fucks you good and breaks your heart all at once.

hugging your discarded t-shirt to your chest as if to protect the beating organ, you frown. “it isn’t! why would i dress pretty for some boy?”

“good. boys are dangerous,” clothing ruffles over the sound of suguru’s voice as he reminds you of the lesson he’s taught you many times over the years. trust no man, except for your brother. “i won’t always be here to keep an eye on you or keep you out of said danger. so just…focus on making a name for yourself. especially after you’ve worked so hard to graduate from uni.”

you scoff and grab the dress — debating whether or not you should step into it or pull it over your head. “i’m not a child anymore, sugu. i don’t need you to watch out for me… i’m old enough to make my own choices. i’m responsible too.”

he watches your feet peek out from under the curtains as you mess with the dress and attempt to pull it on. geto’s senses jump to high alert listening to you struggle and shuffle to pull it over your head, resisting the urge to jump in and help you. “don’t pull it over your head when you’ve just gotten your hair done,” he grumbles in light annoyance. “step into it, little one.”

“yeah, i got it!” comes your snappy voice in return while you readjust and try again.

suguru leans against the nearest wall, crossing his arms over his chest — he slips into silence as you slip into your dress. “i know you do, you’re a smart girl.” you get the feeling he’s not talking about how you try it on anymore, and your stomach turns as you adjust the skirts. “but that doesn’t mean i don’t worry. once you lose your focus, everything comes crashing down. that’s what happened to satoru. i wouldn’t want you to end up like him.”

again, your tummy lurches in the worst of ways at the mention of gojo and how much geto hates the idea of the two of you ever getting together. sure, satoru was childish and irresponsible — refuting the orders of the higher ups in his family… he could be disappointing at times too, with questionable loyalty. yet sometimes… sometimes satoru could be so good and stable, oftentimes reminding you of why you wanted to be with him in the first place.

he is special to you, in so many ways that is beyond the web of human comprehension. you love satoru gojo so much that your lungs burn with the need for air whenever he’s not around for you to breathe in.

the idea of not having him around often because of your brother is like oxygen deprivation itself.

“satoru isn’t that bad.” you counter, toying with the beading at your neckline while you inspect yourself in the mirror. he would love it on you. “don’t you think you’re being a little harsh on him? he is your best friend after all.” it takes your all not to bust out and tell your brother all about your relationship with said best friend, even if it kills him and ruins the rose tinted glass above his head.

pushing the curtains open you step out just as geto starts to scold you again. “satoru gojo is lazy and hardly competent, he wouldn’t be right for you and you know that— oh.”

he stops speaking when you step out to show him the dress, your eye bright and doe-like, almost pleading — while the fabric sticks to all the right curves, making you look stunning. making you appear more mature. “help me do the zip f’me, suguru? i can’t reach.”

“come here, i’ve got you,” suguru whispers in quiet awe, turning you gently by the shoulders to do the honours of zipping you in at the low back of the dress. “you look perfect, give me a twirl, hm, little one?”

twirling as told, suguru watches proudly as your skirts flail about the place — it’s sparkle catching on the UV light up above. you’re the perfect angelic picture of his little sister…he doesn’t know how he’ll ever let you go.

there’s still a pout on your lips undoubtedly from what he’s said about gojo and as much as suguru finds your defensiveness for him weird — he hates seeing you upset just as much. “hey, how about we go pay for your dress…” he calls your name and you tilt your head up just a touch, giving your brother your attention unwillingly. “and since we’re here at the shopping centre, we might as well get dinner. my treat? i’ll get you some of your favourites. perhaps boba and we’ll stop by the stuffed animal store on the way out—“ suguru trails off to see if you’ve taken his snare and got stuck in his trap, he knows you can’t resist being spoiled at the end of the day.

you nod faster than your pretty little head can catch up. “sounds like a plan, sugu!”

“i knew you’d say yes,” he snickers proudly, petting your head softly for the second time that late afternoon. then, geto carefully nudges you back into the changing room, patiently waiting for you to remove the dress so he can pay for it while you switch clothes. “i think you made a good choice today. with the dress,” he adds, drawing the curtains for you kindly. “who knows, maybe satoru will even take his head out of his ass to pay you a compliment, admire the colour. he’ll like it for sure.”

you flinch behind the curtains when they close, trying to keep your voice even. “i-i can’t say i’m hoping for it!” to which suguru laughs heartily, accepting the dress as you chuck it out to him.

but what you’re really hoping for, is for him to not connect the dots.

to not find out about yourself and gojo until you’re ready for him too.

the first rule of a situationship, is to never answer the phone after the first ring. that's rule number one for satoru gojo.

it gives the girl the impression that you’re interested in something more than just fooling around, that you want more than the benefits of a relationship while sticking to the talking stage.

but gojo has never been one to follow the rules, not even ones he sets for himself…because when you call, he answers in a heartbeat — just to hear your sweet little voice relaying his name over your tongue and the way you giggle like a darling when he compliments you.

satoru gojo likes you a lot more than he lets on, he misses you even more so. that’s why he answers on the first ring, practically kicking his feet in his king sized bed — he hasn’t heard you say his name since the night you kicked him out, and for good reasons too.

hiding his presence from suguru.

“hi ‘toru.”

“hi gorgeous,” you can practically hear your lover’s smile through the crackling static over the line. “missed you,” gojo slurs lightly, of course, is high by no means other than sukuna’s supply of the good stuff — inhaling it leisurely through a nicely rolled joint while he listens to you call out for him. your voice is so inviting… so angelic… and if satoru shuts his pretty eyes and tries hard enough, he can just about imagine the way you’d sigh for him as his fingers slip right inside of your sweet little pussy—

“i almost told sugu about us today.”

that makes satoru jump upright, choking on a deep inhale of cannabis tainted smoke. his lungs ache from trying to recover and the pain spreads to his toned thighs when he’s realised that he’s dropped the roll up in shock, the lit end burning through the grey sweatpants he wears. “fuck. shit… that hurts. idiot.” the silver haired man curses to himself, forgetting you’re still on the line.

“who me?” you simper a little on the sad side, seemingly shifting in your own bed.

satoru instantly picks up on the pouty twinge to your voice and if he hadn’t been burning to death (dramatic much?) he knows that his cock would have twitched to life between his legs at the dulcet sound. “fuck baby, no not you,” he says, words rushing from his mouth as he reassures you. “why would you tell him? did he figure us out?”

you hesitate with your next words. “w-well, um…not exactly…”

“come on baby, you can say it. s’just me, satoru,” gojo goads you with a condescending echo to each of his words, not putting too much pressure on your sweet and empty little head. “don’t think too much. just be good and tell me.”

while he waits, the man fumbles his way out of bed and stands — somehow managing to tuck his splif between slightly chapped and pale pink lips. he tugs off his shirt, suddenly feeling too hot under the collar, and stalks his way over to his large, wide windows — looking down onto the bustling city below.

it’s kind of funny, how noisy it is down there, creating almost as much of a ruckus as the racing thoughts in satoru’s brain.

“i wanted to tell him…because suguru doesn’t think that you deserve me.” you finally say, submissively telling gojo what’s on your mind. it hurts like a bitch to hear, it stings at every unresolved trauma and open wound that he has — not because it’s a lie, but because gojo doesn’t want to accept that reality.

a reality where he can’t have you, because he could never be someone who meets his best friend’s standards and expectations for you.

be someone that you deserve.

gojo exhales the smoke through his nose, letting it sting at his nostrils while he decays from the inside out. if this were any other drug he’d have smokers lungs by age twenty-seven. “well ain’t that the truth.” he mumbles, grim.

“now satoru, why would you say that?” you sound like you’re about to cry.

“because, it’s not far off is it?” gojo really doesn’t mean to snap. after all, he is high, and this topic could have him spiralling into a really bad trip — but it’s not your fault that you love him, that you want him so bad you’d deny all of your brother’s wishes. that’s on him — he made you that way, and these are simply the consequences of his own action. “fuck… baby. sweetheart, you know you shouldn’t even be with me,” he starts, tucking his blunt between two fingers while running the same hand through his moonlight-kissed hair. “i’m way older than you, i’m hardly ever serious about you when i should be like you want…and hell, your brother sure as fuck doesn’t want me near you. you deserve better, and that’s the truth.”

he hates saying all that shit to you, projecting his insecurities and inability to properly love someone onto the girl he loves…but gojo does it anyway, as if he can’t control the acid in his stomach — throwing it up everywhere or otherwise it’ll burn him from the inside out.

“but i don’t want better…i want you.” comes your quiet sob, so tiny and pathetic. satoru resents himself for making you that way — pale white lashes fluttering shut and locking away his murky ocean blue eyes. he tries to picture you happier, instead of crying over the call like you are right now.

“i want… i want you too.”

“then…then let’s tell him! together! he’s my brother… and you’re his best best friend. he might understand, if you prove to him that this is what you want. that i’m what you want.” you're perkier when you speak again, and satoru (still high as a kite) wonders if he’d said that just to appease you or if he really meant it.

a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts.

except gojo isn’t drunk.

he will admit, he’s pictured the day where you both come clean to the older geto sibling almost a million times. in his mind, satoru’s seen every reaction and emotion possible play out of his best friend’s face — he’s seen them in real life too. yet, the only prevalent expression on suguru geto’s face when anyone ever spoke of you in a nasty manner.. was red hot rage.

suguru would become another man, one who wasn’t afraid of murder, whenever it came down to you. countless individuals over the years had tried and failed at winning your favour from suguru — as if you were a princess in a castle. each one of them would regret trying for the rest of their lives.

and each time you remained none the wiser to how bad suguru really was and the lengths he’d go to keep you his innocent little sister.

gojo didn’t want that for himself, to face the wrath of his best friend.

but maybe he could try to withstand it, for you.

the girl he might actually love, after all.

“we can try…i’ll try for you.” he mutters quietly over the line after sometime. satoru sounds neither hopeful or hopeless, but either way it does the trick for you. you laugh for him, airily and bubbly, it makes the man smile around the blunt resting between his rows of perfect teeth. your happiness is enough to be his happiness.

he wished he allowed himself to feel that way about you more.

“and i for you, ‘toru. we’ll be together openly someday.” you gush.

the two of you chat for a little while longer until you adorably fall asleep on gojo and his blunt finally ends…but by the end of it, he can’t help but get this sinking feeling. where anxiety fills the cavity in satoru’s chest and drowns his optimistic heart in worry — slowing down its steady beat.

things won’t be as happy as he wants them to be.

and he doesn’t quite have the heart or guts to tell you that.

satoru gojo has always been afraid of love.

it’s not an emotion that comes easy to him — like the second nature of most human beings. there’s no innate need to love someone for satoru, there’s no urge to be tender or to hold someone in high regard because of the way he feels about them. love is not something that’s bound to his DNA or feeling he’s known since his very conception. or perhaps it was the environment in which he was raised, the way that his father was never home and his mother was always crying — her choked sobs only increasing in severity when she cast her gaze upon her only child.

that white hair and those blue eyes reminded her way too much of the man who couldn’t love her back.

perhaps that’s why he’s afraid to open up his heart, bordering up with layers of concrete and brick to protect it from the harsh reality of the world. the organ beats, it pumps blood around his body and keeps satoru alive — but it doesn’t carry an ounce of love. it’s as if he’s incapable. all he feels is resentment, towards his father and towards his mother — towards the people who did nothing but try to show him that he was worthy of warmth and intimacy.

he hates them because he doesn’t deserve it. satoru is nothing but a cold husk of a human being, a shell long since abandoned by its owner or inhabitant. there’s nothing to care for behind the walls of human flesh and tissue, no open heart to hold between one’s fingers with the promise of keeping it safe. satoru gojo doesn’t love because he’s afraid and it makes him feel like he can’t.

the people who love you always leave. to gojo, that’s a proven fact. his memories tied the emotion are never fond — his mother left him for a better life and better family with another man. his father left him for the company and late nights at work, a glass of brandy in his right hand. all satoru knew growing up was the cold, empty silence of his childhood home that should have been filled with happiness, laughter and warmth.

the people who love you are supposed to come back. for gojo, no one ever did. no one cradled him when he cried, no one held his hand through the scariest moments of his life. no one came back for him.

how could a man like that ever learn to love someone outside of himself?

how could a man like him make anyone happy?

satoru thinks that he would be a miserable addition to anyone’s life, a thick smog that hides the brightness from the world and blocks out any sunshine. no one around him deserves to be happy, it’s why he so selfishly and recklessly tears them apart in front of the media or acts rebellious to tarnish his family’s infamous reputation. his actions have no consequences, he hurts no one he loves because he loves no one.

no one except for…

“master satoru,” the matured voice of his personal driver interrupts the deep pool of thoughts gojo drowns in. “we may be slightly late for dinner with the getos. with your permission, perhaps i can make a detour? it’s not the safest route in town but it would get us there faster—“

no one except for you.

satoru sits up straight in the back seat of his expensive, sleek black car as if he’s been hit with the realisation that you exist. that you’re still here and still made to be loved. the man doesn’t believe in soulmates, or red strings of fate or happily ever after’s, yet — in the short two years that he’s been fooling around with you, satoru has somehow managed to fall deeply and irrevocably in love with you.

by all means, it doesn’t show — hell, you probably don’t even know how satoru really feels about you. he’s terrible at being genuine and hides behind a porcelain mask that only shows you the worst parts of him, that the entire world takes pleasure in seeing…but it’s true. he loves you. against all odds, the very feeling has managed to take root in the white haired rich boy’s chest, like the smallest flower blooming in the harshest of tundras. there’s something satoru didn’t know, that love has resistance, and no matter how hard he tries to act like he doesn’t — it will always find a way to thrive.

satoru might love you so much it makes him physically sick — one look at you and he’s rendered weak in the knees and short of breath. you’ve got a smile full of sunshine that warms satoru even with the bone chilling air outside. your eyes are enticing, deep pools of chocolate and hazel notes that drag him in like a fish on a line. your lashes are always soft against his skin, long enough to rival his even though you comment about how much you adore his every time you’re together.

you’ve got the man under a fucking spell and he’s not sure he ever wants it to be broken. at first, you were just something sweet to snack on, someone that gojo couldn’t have which only made him want you more. you’d be his pet — nothing more. he’d keep you at arms length until he was bored and could toss you away. however, over time, gojo’s want grew to love and even now, you’ve no clue how much you affect him, he regrets not showing that to you more.

he still treats you like you’re a child, a naive little thing because he’s terrified of opening up to you, frightened by the mere thought of you running for the high hills once you see what the man who loves you is really like.

satoru takes to adjusting his tie as the car switches lanes into a less polluted route — avoiding the evening traffic so that he can get to the destination faster. for some reason, anxiety spikes gojo’s blood stream with nervous hormones clinging to each red cell. the car becomes too enclosed, too compacted and the dark night outside doesn’t help him much either — it’s as if he’s lost in the void of space trapped with his own feelings.

his tongue darts out to wet the seal of his pink lips and his twitching fingers pull at the stupid necktie his PA had picked out for him tonight. there’s one thing that he’s forgetting, one thing that’s worse than loving you — a guilt that sneaks up on gojo when he’s truly alone with his riveting thoughts.

the man lets out a shuddering breath. “fuck. me.” he says quietly, the two words colourful on his tongue.

there’s suguru too.

and the betrayal he’ll feel when he finally realises that satoru gojo is fucking his little sister.

gojo loves getou. though it’s a different kind of love in comparison to what he wants to share with you. it’s brotherly. friendly. and it goes back years beyond the situationship the white haired man has trapped you in. it would absolutely kill your brother if he ever found out, ruining the supposedly unbreakable bond they’ve developed over the time that they’ve known each other.

a flash of pain flashes across gojo’s chest as if he’s been slashed with a knife — he grips the car handle tight, his knuckles turning white with how forceful his grip is. you and suguru are all that he has. the only family who ever truly cared for him and treated him like their own. of course his selfish actions and self-centred mindset would find a way to come between you both. he would be sure to kill the delicate sibling bond you have, satoru is an asshole like that.

it’s why he can never tell suguru about the fooling around you’ve done over the last two years — he would lose his one and only best friend. in the same breath, he could lose you too. you’re a smart girl, you’ll learn to leave him eventually and spread your own wings with pride.

the both of you were better off without him.

satoru was nothing but a chaotic storm that left nothing but wreck and destruction in its wake. it was an absolute guarantee that he would tear the two of you apart, create more than surface level crack in the crust of the world you two have created together. he’s just no good, nothing good ever comes of him.

but the love he has for you, building in slow stacks between the gaps in his rib cage, is addictive — much like that buzz from weed or the stale taste of a cigarette on his tongue. he’ll never have enough of you, and that very fact is what makes satoru gojo the most vile human he’s ever known.

he’d rather die than give you up. rather tear you apart from your brother than let you go.

the admission to himself makes the play boy’s stomach turn and twist wrongly, the air in his lungs turning bitter and clogging up his throat. gojo’s hand slams against the door of his car, fumbling to wind down the window and feel the cool bite of cold against his skin.

“p-pull over,” satoru whispers, more so to himself in the back of the vehicle than to anyone else. his nails dig into the rough skin on his palms, and the blood rushes through his ears — louder and louder. painfully so.

the driver looks to his master in the rear view mirror — concern sketched upon his features. “but master satoru, we’re just a few minutes away—“

“i said, fucking pull over!” gojo damn near screams in reply, throwing a piercing blue gaze at his poor driver. his head throbs heavily with guilt so by the time the car comes to a screeching halt, satoru’s close to throwing up on the sidewalk. “s-shit.”

the bile tastes like soured guilt in his mouth — but nothing comes. he’s sure he looks like a fool, half hanging out of his mercedes, pale as the silvering moon with the indication that he’s going to be sick.

“satoru,” his driver speaks to him tenderly, like a loving father would to his child. a comfort gojo never had the luxury of. “it’s not too late to go back home, i can have one of the maids ring suguru to let him know you won’t be in attendance. you don’t look your best.”

the white haired man’s ragged breaths as he stands hands on knees in the middle of the road accompany the late night ambience — rushing cars and sirens, heels clattering against concrete pavement and groups of people laughing away. the sounds ring loud in his ear, overloading gojo and his guilty conscience until there’s a warm hand on his shoulder.

his driver, reassuring him once again.

“it’s okay, satoru. just breathe.”

the statement somehow brings him back to present day, along with a heavy breath of frosty air. his driver rubs his back in smooth circles until satoru is able to stand to his full height — less queasy looking than he was before.

“i’d like to go,” he clears his throat, replacing his woozy expression with his signature bright eyed, sparkly-white toothy grin. “i made a promise, to the people i love.”

with a firm nod and gentle smile, satoru’s driver gives his employer one last firm pat on the back before returning to his position behind the wheel — ready to make the rest of the commute to the restaurant.

it takes a moment for satoru to slip back into the car — and during that time, he reflects. he may be selfish, he may be an asshole, he may be sick and twisted right down to the core. but at the centre of all that, is his compassionate love for you and he would do anything to prove it.

even if it means losing it all, just to be with you in the way you’ve always wanted.

satoru gojo is not as brave as he thought.

the rest of his car ride to the restaurant is uneventful — aside from the silver haired playboy’s random musings. the pep talk he gives to himself while tugging at the tight loop of his neck tie. everything will be okay.

it’s just dinner with you, and dinner with the getos. an event that he’s attended dozens of times over the years because suguru is his best friend and your parents love him.

except this isn’t just dinner.

this is make or break.

should he choose to make things official with you, it would shatter the very foundation of his relationship with suguru. the same if satoru chooses to ignore what you’re asking of him.

the nerves unload on satoru as he jogs up the smooth marbled steps at the forefront of the restaurant — hesitating when the concierge on duty holds open the mahogany framed and glass panelled door. he can’t bring himself to go inside and face the consequences of his own actions over the last two years.

just as he spins on his heels to run away, chelsea boots clicking against with every step — the sky starts to rumble and unleashes its heavenly tears upon the land below. rain.

gojo’s car has long since vacated the fancy premises — leaving him with no true escape home. he could just call a cab, call his driver, but duty and respect for his family away from family, for you, roots him to his spot outside of the restaurant.

he spends the next twenty minutes with a rolled up joint between his ever glossy, plush pink lips.

the weed does nothing to mollify gale force winds and torrential downpour set heavy over gojo’s mind. his entire body is tense with apprehension, spreading cold from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. the weather itself causes gojo’s fingers to go stiff as he inhales the addictive fumes, a burnt amber crowning the other end of his blunt.

“since when did you smoke, satoru?”

satoru coughs and the smoke goes down wrong, he looks up at his intruder with bleary eyes that soften once his gaze lands. “started two years ago,” he says to suguru as his smile turns wistful. “couldn’t find a real reason to quit.”

the reality of his words are masked by the sound of heavy rain hitting the ground, the tops of cars and the restaurant’s outer steps. it’s you, that satoru can’t seem to quit.

if he dares to stop, he’ll go mad with withdrawals and a nicotine patch won’t fix him.

“you really should stop getting addicted to the things that are bad for you.” suguru scolds his best friend, sidling up beside him.

like you, his sister?

satoru doesn’t deserve the aura of his warmth as they stand with one another. “yeah? no shit.”

the younger of the pair holds his hand out for the joint, which gojo passes easily. the city bustle fills up the silence between them — occupying every particle of air that buzzes with kinetic energy in that very same space. silences shared between gojo and geto were not uncommon, they were the type of friends who could communicate a million words to one another in a blink of an eye. but tonight’s soundlessness feels tense, thick with an uncomfortable awkwardness that neither of them know the source of.

be that as it may, satoru has always been able to mask his true feelings from the world and so he turns to his old friend slyly, giving him a casual punch to the shoulder while they smoke their worries away.

“what’s got you so wound up, suguru?” satoru asks, playing coy and covering up.

beady, blackened and tired eyes settle on his taller frame — trying to read the small print that codes each and every one of satoru gojo’s actions and behaviours. to the untrained eye (or anyone who hadn’t been practically raised by his side) gojo’s being his normal and cocky, maybe even obnoxious, self. though, to suguru — a man who’s been beside gojo through it all… there’s something missing.

a puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit.

suguru plays along, moving his chess piece along the board of the game satoru is playing. he’ll figure it out eventually.

letting out a puff of glacier grey fumes — the older geto sibling shrugs and taps the ashes onto the floor. narrowly missing gojo’s expensive patent boots.

“she’s grown up so fast,” he admits slowly, with a husky chuckle — probably from the smoke. “i’m scared she won’t need me anymore.” suguru’s voice is usually so full of endearment and pride when he speaks of you but this time, all dazzling and pure emotion seems to be lost on him.

the very notion scares satoru.

he swipes the splif back to relieve the queasy feeling stirring deep in his gut once again. “she can take care of herself.” gojo mutters, coolly.

“i know that.” suguru replies, smoothly and icily. “but if she doesn’t need me anymore, she won’t listen to me anymore. there’ll be no one to warn her of the people who’ll take advantage of that. her ability to care for herself. i set a high standard for her, i don’t want anyone to claim they can do a better job than me.”

your brother is protective above all things, he’d rather kill a man than let you get hurt. satoru finds the sentiment both admirable and terrifying all at once.

“you’ve done enough, man, how about you let her go?”

suguru turns snarky in response, teeth bared like a wild animal protecting its young. “maybe you’ll never understand the fickle connections of love…but adopted or not she is my little sister.” he asserts, glaring daggers into satoru’s skull as he smokes with a hand covering his mouth nonchalantly. hiding the quiver of his lip that shows how much he cares about this. about possibly screwing your life up. “i’d rip the heavens apart for her if she asked, i love her that much. i often wonder if any person would do the same for her.”

little does suguru know…satoru would do the absolute same for you and more. he would kill, he would die, he would destroy all for you. until he was bloody and raw. anything it took for you to keep on smiling up at him like that, he would do. and suguru would never know, because he’d end the world if he knew it was satoru that had defiled you.

satoru is such a coward.

neither of the men most important in your life speak after that, though, they continue sharing the joint until it’s nothing but burt orange ashes and fumes laying across their minds. the concierge does butt in at some point, kindly (and with a tight lipped smile) pointing out that the restaurant is three michelin stars and that smoking isn’t preferred.

satoru hates rules, so he spits on the steps and chucks the blunt to the floor — stomping it out.

suguru only chuckles at his best friend’s antics, smacking him upside the head as he jogs up to the grand entrance — gojo’s hands in his pockets, his once crisp tuxedo messy with burnt ash and rain water. gojo stops just shy at of the sleek, pearlescent moulded handles and throws his mop of silver hair back over his shoulder.

“are we doing this thing or what, suguru?”

they share a familiar, all knowing smile.

“yeah, satoru. let’s do this.”

without even knowing, that everything is about to change.

you’ve always been a little nervous, especially without a grounding presence beside you.

for many years… your brother, suguru, was that presence. he knew all the best ways to keep you calm — like that little tune he taught you to tap onto your desk during quiet exam hauls, or that method of breathing so your lungs were so full of air and you stopped holding it before public speaking. suguru always knew best.

but nowadays, you don’t find yourself seeking serenity in him. as if you were at a crossroads, your head always turns in the direction of someone you love with almost every corner of your heart. that someone being satoru. he may use you, he may fuck you and fling you to the side when he’s done but he grounds you. even when he isn’t trying to. in the subtle way that he toys with the beads braided into the ends of your hair while you sleep over at his place, or grabs at your waist in public spaces so that you don’t get lost or bullied by paparazzi. in the way that gojo makes you breakfast after bruising you and breaking your back beyond belief the night before — just to make it up to you.

satoru cares, even if it doesn’t look like it, he does.

and it almost makes you sick to your stomach — the thought of you craving his attention to that level.

your dainty fingers and blush-tone acrylic nails toy with the heavy pendant draped around your neck — the one that suguru gifted you. he had told you it shines under every light at every angle possible and you’re sure with the crystal chandeliers above, it’s blinding.

“stop that,” your mother scolds you warmly, in her own charming way of easing your nerves. “you’ll break that big expensive gift from your brother.” you cast a glance upwards from its fixation on the pearl white tablecloths and glinting silver table settings to focus on your parents. as per usual, your father is too engrossed in reading every detail of the menu to notice your discomfort and nerves, while your mother can’t seem to look away. reading you to filth, much like suguru does.

her efforts do nothing to help calm you down.

your hand shifts, taking to twirling the cutlery instead. she sighs, and you shrink in on yourself — trying to take up as little space as possible. “‘m sorry,” comes your hushed little bleat.

“never you mind.” she comments, giving you a once over before digging through her purse for a napkin — no doubt to dab at the corner of your mouth like a mother usually does. “i don’t know why you’re so skittish. your exams are over and you’ve graduated! tonight is about celebrating you! it’s just your brother, his friend, and us.”

that’s just it. it’s your brother and his friend. neither of them are aware of what might go down tonight.

you wished you hadn’t told satoru that you want his commitment — maybe then you wouldn’t be scared shitless in a tight dress at an upscale restaurant downtown. maybe then you wouldn’t be dreading satoru’s decision or suguru’s reaction to that decision.

you only wished you weren’t so selfish, to crave love from more than one person in two completely different ways.

the love from your brother should be enough, he’s only gone and done so much for you.

but it isn’t. and that makes you feel sick.

you want to be loved in the way that plays out in movies. where the guy chases the girl through an airport just to confess how much he needs her. or stands in the thunderous rain to tell her how sorry he is.

you want that from satoru. deep down, you know he wants it too.

the only thing that stands in your way is the affection that radiates so strongly off of your brother — like an umbrella protecting you from heaven’s downpours.

it’s been almost twenty minutes since your brother left his seat at your side to retrieve satoru from…well, wherever he is — like a stray cat picked up by a caring and kind-hearted stranger. you don’t know how’ll act when you see them together, side by side but you do know that ever second ticks by has you angstier and angstier.

the waiter has come by at least four times, asking if you’re ready to order, ready for drinks, ready to be served. “no,” you mumble politely on his fifth return — anxious to the point where your grip on your sterling silver fork has your knuckles turning white. “we’re waiting for two others, we’re waiting for—“

“there you two are! we were starting to think the wind had swept you up!” your mother coos as she always does whenever she sets her sights on her favourite two boys. she stands, immediately moving to wrap her arms around suguru’s taller, broad frame as if she hasn’t seen him in a millennia. “suguru! you had your poor family worried sick.”

your father doesn’t look up from the menu and you’re sure that you look a frazzled mess — but all your brother does is offer up his signature, delightful closed-eye smile, squeezing your mother back in reply. “sorry, ma. i got caught up with looking for this one.” he says warmly, jabbing a thumb into satoru’s side.

satoru hasn’t looked away from you since he’d arrived at the table. his gaze even follows you as you stand.

he can’t help it, you’re beautiful.

the dress that you wear hugs every dip and curve of your body, the satin material of your corset and tulle of your skirt in a shade of baby blue to rival his eyes contrasting perfectly against your deep skin. you’ve done your hair in the way that he likes, curled the ends of your braids with loose ones framing the roundness of your youthful face. if you were the last thing satoru gojo ever saw, surrounded by angelic light, he would be happy. he would be content.

for you, satoru looks like a god amongst mankind. even though his clothes are askew and lightly washed with rain, he’s still perfect to you. pearlescent droplets coat is luxurious white lashes as they flutter against his pale ivory cheeks. his air, all the same, is pushed back from his forehead — exposing those dreamy eyes to you. they hold so much love, interwoven between each greyish-navy fleck dotted against his pupils. love that is all saved up for you.

a bright and angelic grin breaks out across your hot chocolate fenty glossed lips — almost blinding to the regular man but the most beautiful thing to satoru. the waiter prompts you, asking if you’re ready to order once more, to which you respond without looking “yes, thank you.” in a breathy, wispy tone.

jumping between both yours and gojo’s line of sight, your mother pops the bubble that you’re both in. “satoru gojo! is that you?” she squeals with a fond tone. “why do you look so skinny? have you been eating properly?”

your lover squirms like a child being picked apart as your mother reaches up to pinch his cheeks.

“leave the boy alone, dear, i’m sure he’s been eating just fine.” comes your dad’s uninterested quip. “satoru my boy, how have you been?”

you sink back into your seat patiently while satoru greets your parents — the charm rolling off of him in radiating heat waves. “i’ve been eating ma, though i think you’d have a fit if you saw what i was eating,” he kisses your mother’s cheek softly while she laughs so hard you think she might pop, and sets a firm hand on your father’s shoulder. “i’m good old man, thanks for askin’! hope you’re cutting back on the liquor.”

“oh son, you know i don’t do any of that anymore!”

satoru scoffs kittenishly, gesturing between your dad and himself. “yeah, and i’ve stopped being the family disappointment!”

your parents love satoru. you can tell by the way they helplessly fall for his bravado and charisma. he’s magnetising — it’s hard not to fall for satoru in all of the ways possible to mankind. if he wasn’t so afraid of taking you seriously, you can’t help but think that he’d fit right into your family unit of four. it would be perfect, he would be perfect…as your boyfriend. your man. always by your side without hiding in and calling for you from the shadows.

if only you weren’t such a coward.

if only he weren’t so afraid.

if only…

suguru clears his throat in faux annoyance, pushing his best friend down by his wide-spanning into an unoccupied seat at the round table so that he’ll stop making a scene — despite how cheery it is. “behave yourself satoru! at least until i order the drinks.” your brother laughs, ruffling the moonlight locs on gojo’s head. he turns to you, face so bright and full of love. “any preferences, little sister?”

“moscato!” you nod without hesitation. you like things on the sweeter side.

“i knew you’d say that,” suguru affirms, taking his leave from the table. “i’ll see if the staff have anything special for you in the back.”

if only suguru wasn’t your older brother.

maybe then you wouldn’t feel such nauseating levels of guilt as gojo swaps chairs to be one closer to you. maybe then you wouldn’t have to keep your face plain and your body rigid as familiar, pale and slender fingers danced up the inner thigh of your dress — beneath the cupcake skirt, to settle comfortingly and dangerously on it’s apex. maybe then you wouldn’t have to try so hard to control yourself around satoru and especially in front of your parents — who have taken to digging through the fancy menu together while the buzz of the table dies down in suguru’s absence.

you’re so nervous that you fear someone might hear the loud thump of your heart against its cage and the blood rushing through your ears — you don’t even want to look at satoru because you know that with how close he is, you’ll fall apart the minute that you do.

but then he squeezes your thigh, in a tender and affectionate gesture — tracing a heart over the blistering hot patch of your beautiful brown skin just to calm you down. because satoru gojo knows you like no other man. better than anyone, better than your brother even.

“you look…” he starts, his usually husky voice barely above a whisper. the words coagulate in his throat — held back by tethers of spinelessness and debilitating fear. “you’re stunning, sweetheart.” gojo compliments you quietly, the sweet string of words nipping at your ears softly — his long, lavish lashes tickling at the crown of your head from how close he’s gotten by leaning down.

if you turn your head now, you might even kiss him and every fibre of your being prickles with anticipation — desperate to do so. “you’re not so bad yourself, satoru.”

his laugh fills your lower tummy with warmth. your heart rate picks up too.

“i mean it,” gojo reiterates. he’s desperate for you to look at him, for you to touch him. instead you bury your nose in an à la cart menu that you’re not even truly reading because the circumstances don’t allow for kissing, and holding and touching. not until satoru grows a pair and tells suguru the truth about your relationship and his feelings for you. “i’ve never seen anyone more beautiful.”

you can feel the heat from his breath coast across the surface of your cheek like a condensed mist over the warmed layer of seawater. it caresses you softly, sending shivers down your spine. “you look rather handsome too, satoru.” you joke, poking the hungry bear in its den by tilting your head ever so slightly in his direction.

he smiles like he always does right before he kisses you, slow and sexy, but the sweet moment is interrupted by the sound of heavy glass borderline slammed on the table — right into the crevice between yourself and gojo.

you dart apart, hearts racing and mind frazzled, only to find that suguru has returned with the wine he requested specifically for you. his face is hard set when you look up at him, his obsidian eyes darkened with suspicion and fear strikes you in the chest — he knows something, he suspects even more.

“sugu what are you—!”

your older brother lifts his chin with narrowed, cat like eyes. “i want to make a toast.” he announces, slicing through your words with a butcher's knife so sharp it makes both you and gojo squirm uncontrollably. like children being scolded for breaking the rules.

both of your parents put down their menus, excited, happy to be with the children they raised (including gojo) — they mistake your brother’s interruption for enthusiasm to celebrate your achievements.

“suguru, we’ve hardly ordered anything!”

“it’s never too late to start the festivities, ma.” he responds with a sly tone and slips into gojo’s previously empty seat to open the bottle of pink moscato. the cork popping makes you jump skittishly, and gojo’s hand slips away from your thigh underneath the table.

the loss of his touch reminds you that as long as your brother is around, you’ll never be anything more than a little secret to satoru.

liquid gold in the shade of dusted rose pink is passed around the table in crystal glasses — raised in honour of you. suguru says your name, the bulk of his voice full of pride.

“a toast to you, my little sister.”

you smile, tight lipped but warm — the guilt rushing back you.

but then gojo’s hand returns to the apex of your thigh, smoothing over the skin under your dress to calm you down once more.

“and everything that you have achieved. congrats on graduating, squirt.” satoru finishes suguru’s toast lovingly, approved by your parents who break out into a round of applause before flagging down a waiter to get the real celebrations underway. they tell you to order whatever you would like, but you take to downing the crisp, sweet flavours of your wine first.

you chug the beverage like it’s cheaply made beer from the college parties you’d been to — the ones satoru stopped you from going to, the ones that you avoided out of loyalty to him where you sought out the commitment he wasn’t ready to give you, a light buzz simmers over your brain, dulling down your high-alert senses and you hope that the alcohol makes you feel anything but present in the moment so that you miss the tense look that gojo and geto share beside you.

suguru is politely seething and satoru is playing pretend — acting as if there’s nothing wrong or nothing between you. your lover swirls his wine around in his glass, the pink tinted elixir sloshing over its edges before he takes a casual slip, ignoring your brother’s obvious dissatisfaction with satoru’s little addition to his toast.

“satoru.”

you gulp and fixate your gaze on other happenings deeper into the restaurant. your parents make their order. satoru squeezes your thigh once more.

“suguru.”

could this be it? the moment that gojo tells the truth and the moment that your eldest sibling accepts what you have with his best friend? you twitch in your seat as the confrontation brews and the thunder of their clashing personalities and morals begin to strike. all suguru has to do is ask if he suspects something, and all satoru has to do is confirm the truth. say that he loves you, that you’re his girlfriend while your brother accepts it and is happy for you.

you wish. that would be an ideal world.

“you’re in my seat, satoru,” is what geto settles on, the crescendo of their confrontation falling flat — missing a key note. “you’re sitting next to my sister. i was supposed to sit there.”

“really?” all satoru does is grin, and if you looked close enough, you could see the mischief dancing between the navy flecks in his stunning eyes.

the waiter comes to take yours, your brother’s and your lover’s orders (after tending to your parents for most of the interaction) — not giving suguru any time to protest his best friend’s faux confusion.

gojo takes to swirling his moscato once more — daring to look your brother in his eye over the rim of his crystal glass.

“i hadn’t even noticed.”

the rest of the actual dinner seems to go smoothly after that.

your boys tone down their bickering in favour for scaring down tiny Michelin star starters — micro herbs and all. they’re still so childish, even as they sit either side of you, picking from one another’s plates in the same way that they did back when you were kids. you find yourself relaxing as the night progresses too — maybe this isn’t so bad and things could work out between the three of you. suguru and satoru have been joined at the hip for as long as you can remember, a girl (one that they both knew), let alone suguru’s sister wouldn’t come between the bond that they had.

by the time the main dishes are served, you have enough alcohol in your system to feel nothing but a pleasant buzz in place of the nerves that once contaminated your bloodstream. you had nothing to be worried about, everyone was getting along, laughing and smiling while your parents indulged the three of you in drunken repeats of famed moments from your childhood.

you do your best to listen in, though the story about how suguru and satoru pulled out one of your wobbly teeth in third grade is one that you’ve heard too many times to count. it’s sweet though, that your parents are able to reminisce like this while you’re all together…especially since suguru works long hours so far from home and you’ll be off to a new city by the time the month ends.

even just having satoru there makes the night feel complete. there’s so much love to go around.

there would be even more love if suguru knew about how you and satoru truly felt for one another.

you’re only sucked back into the bustling conversation when geto pinches your side — jutting his head in the direction of your mother so that you can give your attention to her next story. “oh honey!” she coos and you cringe, chugging back your latest glass of wine in order to prepare yourself for whatever embarrassment is about to come next. “do you remember when your poor brother threw his white laundry in with those cute red undies you brought — suguru was wearing pink for months!”

the whole table bursts into obnoxious laughter, and you sink down into your seat.

“mom! oh my god!”

“i remember that,” your brother comments casually, gaze slinking over to his best friend in amusement. “satoru wouldn’t let me hear the end of it, told me i looked like a barbie doll. what were you even doing with underwear like that anyways.”

“sugu, not you too!”

“now i remember the pink shirts but… the underwear? i would have loved to see the culprit.” safely says with a voice as sultry as it is silky smooth — sending a jolt of electricity down your spine until it fizzles out at your tailbone. he gets scolded by your parents (more so by mom) and earns himself a harmless glare from geto who’s been loosened up by alcohol but from you — you’re furiously humiliated.

under the table, you lift a foot to stamp down hard on his own with your heel, but gojo is quick to react — instead dragging his foot up the length of your calf, inciting you to join him in an enticing game of footsie.

you slam your hands down on the table in surprise causing everyone to look your way before you sheepishly wave them off. “stop it, gojo.” you snarl through the cage of your gritted teeth.

he clicks his tongue, delighted by how flustered you are. “i’m not doing anything, pretty girl,” he purrs shallowly into your ear. “c’mon now, pay attention to the story.”

“it was a frilly little thing, far too inappropriate for someone her age.” your dad chimes in and gojo nods — lifting his foot higher and higher until you’re shuddering all over. you don’t even think to stop him.

“mom, dad. please stop before i end it all.” you struggle to place your words in the correct order, distracted by gojo’s touch. you place your hands under your thighs, keen on controlling your squirming as they squish together ever so slightly. you just know that satoru is enjoying this and if you looked at him you’d see satisfaction evident all over his stupidly handsome face. he likes knowing how much of an effect he has on you, that it’s easy to make you writhe all for him.

“sorry sweetheart, but they really were cute! i know you were just trying out new things. starting to act mature for your age.”

satoru chimes in again, leaning in a little closer so that his breath just tickles the shell of your ear. “bet they looked even cuter on her.”

squeaking in embarrassment, you kick your chair back until it screeches loudly across the floor in a weak attempt to put some distance between yourself and the man who’s practically torturing you. of course, your escape plan doesn’t work, because satoru keeps a strong grip on the bottom of your seat — dragging it forward, back under the table, and closer to him, that same hand now resting on the wooden frame beneath your locked knees.

coughing to cut up the tension growing between the two of you, suguru cuts in. “not as cute as her diaper phase!” from there, everyone is distracted by gushing over even more embarrassing childhood memories of you as a baby. obviously, leading to some tears from your parents’ end — you’ve grown so much, come so far. it’s only natural that they’d be emotional on a night like this, one meant to celebrate your achievements.

what isn’t natural, is the fact that you’re three seconds away from jumping satoru gojo’s bones right in front of them.

god, he drives you fucking insane. just from messing with you under expensive linen tablecloths too — his thumbs brush over your knees, your feet tangled together and if he leans over you anymore you might just turn your head and kiss him.

you fight that urge to do so by grasping at the cool silver pendant around your neck — tapping your acrylic jelly nails against the fat sapphire gem at its centre. the jewellery feels like ice against the temperate surface of your skin, a dirty need starting to bubble and brew beneath it hotly. one that can only be satisfied by satoru gojo.

the heat spreads to the back of your neck and under the collar of your dress, even warming the chain that hangs loosely around it. it could just be the alcohol, but you know it’s something more. it’s an itch you can’t scratch on your own and a fire you can’t put out without help. suddenly the metal of your pendent is warm to the touch and slippery between your fingers whilst you continue to play with it in newfound sweaty hands.

a subtle gasp slips past your chocolate glossed lips when the chain snaps somewhere and the rest of the metal slides between your buttery fingers, your pendant gathers at your bosom before dropping to the floor with a clatter. feeling around your neck for your precious gift, you let out a louder whine upon realising where it’s gone. suguru spares you a moment of his attention, concern drawn against the gentle slopes of his features.

“you okay, little one?”

“y-yeah,” you exhale slowly, trying to calm the anxiety that fires across your neurons. “i think i um… i dropped my necklace under the table.”

an award winning beam slots itself perfectly on your brother’s lips as he chuckles under his breath. “you’re so clumsy, need my help?”

“just keep mom and dad distracted for me? it’s just under the table, i’ll be back for their next story before anyone notices.” you attempt to joke in order to appease him, you don’t need suguru to get a closer look at how wildly turned on you are nor the fact that gojo is sitting comfortably with his hand between your knees — inches away from where you need him most, where he’s been so many times behind your brother’s back.

not to mention the fact that you’re still fucking playing footsie.

suguru shrugs and drops the subject, tuning back into your father’s rendition of your first skatepark experience. the one where you’d tried to copy satoru and suguru and attempted a trick on your chunky bratz scooter and went flying off the ramp. ouch.

you dip beneath the table cloth like you’re diving back under the surface of water, fishing around for your lost and precious pirate’s treasure. you can’t tell if satoru’s moved his hand, you don’t feel it slyly ghosting over the insides of your thighs while you lean forward and search for your necklace… not that it should matter, it’d be far from appropriate to have his long, slender fingers brushing up against your panties from under your skirts. it wouldn’t be right for that to escalate, for said fingers to push past your entrance and brush up against the spot satoru knows is guaranteed to make you scream. it would be immoral for you to even think about him sliding his cock into your wet, needy cunt too. somewhere secret, somewhere—

oh!

you giggle with triumph when your fingertips graze the cold metal decor of your necklace… however, when you move to grab it, you touch something else. something warmer. you touch him.

with baited breath, you let your bambi eyes carefully trail up to gojo’s face — drinking in the hazy look that he gives you, the swirl of desire taking a flame in his brilliant, cerulean eyes. just by being under his gaze you feel as though you’re drowning and burning alive all at once. satoru is the one who moves first, taking your smaller hand in his large one before he turns it over — palm facing the sky and places your sapphire pendant inside of it.

then, one by one, he closes your fingers around your brother’s gift and then brings your closed fist up to his plush lips, pressing a wet kiss to your knuckles as you gasp. “quiet, baby. wouldn’t want anyone to know what you’re up to down here…”

his words die off, licking his lips slowly, stare predatory while it trails all over your body. “but ‘toru,” you mewl enticingly, keeping your tones hushed under the table. the sweet, dulcet sound makes his eyes flutter shut and body quiver with a wave of hunger, his sexual appetite for you growing by a tenth fold . “i need you.” you never make this easy for him. if someone were to take a peek beneath the table cloth, they would see the tension brewing between you both and put two and two together.

you’d be discovered before having the chance to tell everyone yourself.

time is ticking, your guests might start to grow suspicious if you don’t make a move and goad satoru into solving the ache between your thighs. so you jump the gun, grabbing his collar and tug him forward for a sly, sloppy yet quick kiss. “i won’t say it again after this, ‘toru,” comes your cheeky pant. “i need you.”

satoru chokes.

with that, you withdraw from your scared little bubble below the table and stand straight up — a dazzling and guiltless gin on display for your entire family to see. “i’m going to the bathroom,” you explain sweetly. “need to fix my pendant ‘n powder my nose. i’ll be back.”

your family stops chattering briefly to acknowledge your wish, but as you leave — suguru stands too and grabs your wrist. “need me to help? i know the clasp can be finicky. i should have gotten you something easier to use—“

god bless suguru, your loveable brother, ever the cockblock.

“that’s alright man, i’ve got her covered,” satoru suddenly appears behind you, the sweltering heat of his heaving chest singeing through the fabric of your dress. he places a hand on the small of your back, grinning with a charming spark to his eyes — deliberately masking “you should keep an eye on your parents, you know how they get when they’ve had too much to drink.”

now, it’s not that geto doesn’t trust his best friend… after all, gojo has been a constant presence in your life ever since the three of you were kids. it’s just that sometimes, a feeling of unease stirs within suguru at the mere thought of you being alone together — it’s like one of those gut feelings you get before something goes terribly wrong.

yet, as usual, satoru is right. if no one keeps an eye on geto’s parents, who knows what trouble they’ll get into on their own.

“alright, fine. just don’t take too long, there’s only so many stories they can tell before dessert.” suguru reminds you plainly, as if not to assume the worst. he gives you both an approving nod, before letting you go. “and satoru, wait outside for her?”

the white haired man snickers, a languid and jeering smirk slowly tugging on the corners of his mouth. “you got it, suguru!”

he even adds a salute for effect, allowing you to lead him away from the table and towards your gateway of sin.

the uneasy feeling in suguru’s stomach intensifies as he watches you both walk further and further away.

they say that a mirror is the window to your soul, reflecting how you truly feel on the inside.

the girl staring back at you in the squeaky clean glass looks nothing like the little girl suguru helped to raise. her soul is impure, blackened by sin and the dark desire for human contact — the salacious dance and ritual between scorching hot bodies and saliva tainted tongues. she laughs at you over rushing tap water from the bathroom sink and calls to you like a siren’s song, inviting you to give into her — let her take the lead on the temptations plaguing your mind.

why did you even suggest this?

you’d been bold, hinted to satoru that you wanted him to devour you, ruin you in the bathroom of the restaurant your loving, kind older brother had picked especially to celebrate you. you knew better than this, you wanted better than this. you no longer wanted to be just a quick fuck to satoru gojo.

you wanted to be his girlfriend.

that’s what you’d asked him to do tonight. to make you his in front of everyone who loved you. but here you were, slutting yourself out for him like you always do.

over the water pouring down the drain, you pick up on the sound of knocking at the bathroom door — prompting you to twist the tap and cut off the flow of water. unlike the flow of lustful hormones that shoot through your bloodstream and straight to your clit.

a new kind of excitement blossoms in your chest once you turn around to unlock the door — suguru would hate to see you so thrilled at the concept of doing something so wrong. you return to your position in front of the bathroom sink before your lover enters, toying with the silver chain on your pendant again — ignoring the burning feeling you get as it weighs down your palm.

the burn of underlying guilt.

“i can help with that.”

satoru purrs seductively as he enters the bathroom, gesturing to your pendant. you don’t turn to look at him but keep your eyes trained in his movements in the mirror. even when he isn’t touching you, you feel like you can’t breathe. his presence overshadows your own, shrinking you down into a tiny toy that sings oh so pretty for him whenever he wants.

you hear the lock click shut behind you. anticipation hums through the air like an electric current.

“the clasp is a little tricky,” comes your dreamy sigh, high pitched and needy — earning you a choked groan from your lover. “i can’t do it on my own, not without help.”

the next time gojo speaks, he’s right behind you — chest pressed to your back, arms either side of your hips and large hands on the bathroom counter, his head practically nestled into the junction between your shoulder and your neck. wisps of snowfall like hair tickle at your bare skin while warm breath causes goosebumps to rise across its surface.

“then let me fix it for you,” satoru suggests enticingly — keeping up this little act, pretending to be raunchy strangers, while your fingers brush against one another and he takes the jewellery from you. you straighten your back, hold your breath and nod cautiously as he brings it up to your neck from behind. your eyes catch each other’s in the mirror, his darkened with devoir all while he offers you a enthralling, toothy smirk. “relax, pretty girl. i don’t bite…”

except he does. if satoru is a hunter, a lion, then you are nothing but a sacrificial lamb that serves to be his prey. if he really wanted you, he could take your dainty neck between his vicious jaws and snap it — you wouldn’t even mind…because you’d let satoru do anything to you so long as it meant having all his focus be on you.

“lift your chin for me.” he commands you huskily, nipping at the shell of your ear. “good girl.” satoru continues to drawl, extending the ‘o’ sound in his words when you follow his instructions obediently — tilting your head back so that he can adjust your necklace to sit perfectly in place. “such a good girl f’me.”

when his fingers fix the clasp and touch teasingly at the nape of your neck — you find yourself instinctively pushing back against gojo’s lap, the curve of your fleshy ass sweeping over the slight tent beginning to form in his expensive designer slacks. slacks that you know you’re going to destroy before the night meets its end.

“t-there we go,” gojo doesn’t dare step back after finishing up with your necklace, enjoying the sight of you slightly bent over the counter as you grind your hips back on him painfully slow — testing the waters. “fuck lil’ lady…what’s this all about, hm? tryna thank me for doin’ such a good job, helpin’ you out?” his hands slip over your own as they rest by the sink, lacing your fingers together while satoru puts some weight on you — looming over you as he starts to rut forward and meet you in the middle of this raunchy bump and grind. “s-shit…keep…keep throwin’ it back on me like that.”

“we don’t…we don’t have long, satoru. hah, fuck!” you sigh breathlessly, rocking back and forth on your man eagerly and clenching around nothing when his erection catches on your budding clit. satoru’s lips ascend on your neck with careful thought, using their plumpness to shift the strap of your dress to the side and reveal more of you to his greedy, deep blue eyes. they’re wet on your skin, perhaps he’s been licking them in anticipation, hot at the very tip of your cervical spine — but he can’t leave marks, not unless he wants your brother to see.

satoru trembles behind you, lazily dragging his tongue to the sweet spot just behind your ear — leaving a shimmering trail of possession across your skin. “i know baby, i know,” he says almost instantly, delayed by tasting you on his tongue. suddenly, you feel a wetness against your cunt that isn’t your own — you’re already so wet that the seat of your panties are practically glued to your fonts, but this… this is satoru. his dick dribbles pathetically with precum, gearing up to fuck. to breed. satoru grows angstier by the second, one hand letting go of yours to manhandle you back onto his stiff hard on, his breath much heavier against you than before. “but it feels so good doesn’t it? just wanna keep…my cock…nestled against you like this.”

pride flutters through all four chambers of your heart simply because you know that you’re the only one who can get satoru gojo to act like such a slut. he’s so desperate for your pussy it doesn’t even matter how he takes it, just as long as it’s his.

only you get to reduce gojo to a needy mess, soft pink fanning across his nose and cheeks as he humps you from behind like a wet, mangy dog in rut. he circles his hips, pushing them forward so that his throbbing length meets your sticky, fat panty clad folds in a constant motion — his needy moans like music to your ears.

“i wanna fuck you,” you huff impatiently, using your strength to push gojo away from you just long enough to turn around. he follows your lead, hiking you up to sit on the bathroom counter before you wrap your legs around his tiny waist and squeeze him close. “gonna fuck me, ‘toru? or do i have to — fuck…do it myself.”

now that you’re facing each other, you can see just how wrecked the man is. his eyelids grow heavy, long and lavish white lashes weighed down by mirth. gojo pants, his tongue doused with spit lolled over his bottom lip with a hankering urge to kiss you. “jeez,” he simpers in awe, impressed with how controlling you’re being this time around — squeezing your hips to control the flow of you grinding back and forth on him. “at least kiss a guy first.”

grinning, your fingers surge upwards from the counter and into the depths of white rooted hair. you tug gojo down to meet you halfway and before he can even register it — your lips are roughly slotted together, bruisingly close and your tongue laps tracks into the hot cavern of his mouth. the kiss quickly turns sloppy, needy, spit is easily exchanged between synchronised moving lips while your noses become neighbours and your lungs burn from how desperately they need oxygen.

you don’t want it, you think. you don’t need it, you say to yourself — hardly pulling away from gojo as you both suck in a much needed breath. you’re back on one another in a heartbeat, drowning in one another while his practised hands traverse up the curves and dips of your body. they settle at your throat, a thumb gently pushing against its centre just to test you. a dark chuckle reverberates in satoru’s chest when you whine, back arching up to meet him and your eyes growing misty.

“how’s that for a kiss?” you whine against his wet mouth, yanking at gojo’s roots again. the action earns you a grunt in response — blissful, low and predatory. his hips jump up too, tucking his swelling cock into the snug pocket of your puffy folds.

“think i want another,” he muses out loud, the chocolaty octaves of satoru’s voice making you shudder — liquid gold beginning to gather between your ravaged pussy lips. using his grip on your throat, the silver haired man pulls you closer — his perfect white teeth sinking into the delicious swell of your bottom lip before he tugs it away from you salaciously. it’s barely enough to quell the spark of hunger spreading throughout all four limbs of his body, hardly calming down the blood that rushes to his achingly hard dick as he rubs it against your increasingly soaked mound.

when your lips find each other again, they’re swollen, cherry red and raw — smacking against one another loudly over the sound of rustling clothes while you buck into one another. everything is so hot and heavy, you’re so wet and so sticky for satoru and your little rendezvous has barely begun. the way he sucks on your tongue, let’s you push it down his throat while his clothed seedy tip nudges your clit over and over again has you bouncing off the walls in your mind. you can’t think without thinking of all the ways to fuck satoru gojo.

he’s on your mind all the time and you’re not sure if you want that to change.

“can…oh man—can feel how wet you are through your fuckin’ clothes…” satoru hums in astonishment, releasing you from the prison of his lip lock with pretty pink swollen lips, allowing his head to drop to your shoulder in favour for sucking on it to pacify himself. he keeps his tip on your pleasure bud, revelling in the way you keenly pulse at the sensation. “oh fuck…so sticky.”

your pussy flutters at his observation, even more so with how cute satoru sounds when he’s so needy for you. “satoru…” you mewl, stroking back tufts of his sweaty pale hair — though it hardly distracts him from feverishly fucking you over layers of fabric. “wanna suck you off, gojo. can i? wanna have you in my mouth.”

satoru pauses, his breathing uneven and pulls away from his safe spot in your neck. “fuck…really? now?”

you nod, tiny hands forcing their way between your heated bodies to toy with his belt, unbuckling it with practised ease. “right now.”

“okay…fuck, okay.” satoru steps back and uses a grip on your hips to help you down onto your feet, watching with pride as you slowly descend to your knees in front of him. “oh baby. you’re so dirty. such a dirty little girl, mmm?” he grins, a little twisted. “show me how pretty you look on your knees for me.”

you sit back on your haunches as satoru adjusts himself to lean back on the counter — looking up at him with sweet shiny eyes which occasionally shoot down to his throbbing hard cock as he manspreads in place. the sight makes your mouth water and

“you’re staring, baby. go ahead and open your present.” he tilts his head with an air of condescension about him — teasing and taunting you through a faux pout, making you simper out for satoru. “come on now, what happened to my brave little girl? you wanted to suck me off so bad, where’s all that big talk now, huh?” satoru continues to leer down at you, his eyes darkening malignantly — the sapphire shine within them dimming with a raging storm cloud as if to block out the sun. “open that cute little mouth, lemme see it. don’t disappoint.” he cups your cheek, entire body bristling with joy and underlying pleasure when you keen into satoru’s touch like a good girl.

obediently, your lips part and mouth falls open — revealing ropes of saliva that tie your tongue to the roof of your mouth. it does something to satoru, it’s like a power trip to have you on your knees for him. you’ve got love in your eyes taking the form of heart-shaped pupils, as you admire him like he’s your god. and you want that god’s cock stuffed into your waiting, drooling mouth.

you shouldn’t adore satoru, treat him as if he’s your lifeline. he’s the whole reason your family might fall apart, he keeps you hidden as if you’re a treasure only he is worthy of seeing. he doesn’t show you off, he chooses to use you for his own gain, he chooses you when there’s no one else left to turn to. your relationship with satoru has never been stable, but even now when he’s hanging above you — rosy cheeked and starry eyed about to fuck you in some bathroom, you still want him. you still love him.

“don’t get lost in that pretty little head of yours baby,” gojo leans forward and brushes his thumb under the well of your wet lips and over your Cupid’s bow — smudging what's left of your gloss. “‘m gonna need you to think for a little while. only ‘bout me ‘n my cock. yeah?” his free hand that once had been abandoned on the countertop takes yours — guiding it over the bulge in his crisp dress pants, hissing when you start to rub at it on your own, your mouth still wide open for him. “you’re so pretty. feel that? you make me so hard that it hurts.”

you find yourself dazed and enchanted — panting, chest heaving as your hunger for him grows. “feel it, want you, ‘toru.” satoru thinks you’re so cute, cupcake dress poofing up against the cold floor as your tiny hand paws at him back and forth, back and forth and the little smile you give him when he pulsates beneath your talented little fingertips would be nearly enough to make him explode.

“of course you do, baby. you want your reward.” gojo relents, giving in to you. he swoops down to give you one last kiss, barely ghosting his lips over your swollen ones to keep you on the edge — craving just a little bit more. he dangles the static pleasure of a kiss that you get over your brain in front of you like a carrot in front of a horse. he knows that if he keeps you that way, you’ll stay desperately in love with him, malleable into the perfect girl for him.

it’s selfish and both of you know that.

you rub harder and harder at the outline of satoru’s shaft and scoot closer to rest your chubby cheek on his firm thigh. he sees the way your own squeeze together from under your dress, probably in an attempt to keep your arousal at bay while your hole slicks itself up — but he can smell you, sweet and potent like a flower in bloom. if he were to pull you up to his height and take you now, satoru is sure your panties would be soiled, ass cheeks and pussy lips coated in a layer of your opaque, honey-like arousal while it oozes directly from you.

that’s just how you are, a candied little mess for satoru gojo. it’s almost a fact and the very notion should be humiliating for you, should be shameful to you. if your brother were to ever find out how weak your resolve is when it comes to satoru, how you fall to your knees so easily for him — then you might never be able to look him in the eye again.

but isn’t that what you want?

to have suguru know just how badly you’d fallen for his best friend?

how you might fail to live without him?

all night all you’ve been thinking about is satoru telling your brother the truth — but here you are, locked in a bathroom ready to worship this man while you hide from your entire family. from reality.

because you’re happiest in this bubble with gojo and you’re sure he is too — he can have you in all the ways he’s ever wanted and you’d let him do it all to you too. yet again, you remain entirely unaware that from gojo’s point of view, you’re more than a pretty girl about to suck his pretty cock. you’re everything to him.

“come on baby, stop playin’ with me. baby please.” satoru whines petulantly into the sex tainted air that fizzles with suspense. his skin buzzes with every touch you give and a wicked chuckle resonates deep within his chest when you scoot closer on your knees — dragging the tip of your tongue over his dick print hesitantly. though the sound is cut short when you give his hard-on a tentative squeeze to text the waters, opaque and runny white smearing against the inside of satoru’s underwear.

you adore how much he trembles, gripping your shoulder to steady himself since knows that you don’t like the idea of your head being pushed down on. even if it’s torture for him to be so patient — he’d never do anything you didn’t like.

but it really is killing him, and you’re fully aware. he deserves to be punished like this, after everything he’s put you through — it doesn’t mean you’re not suffering yourself. circling your hips into the cold bathroom floor to get some friction yourself, beyond turned on at the sight of a breathless satoru gojo above you.

“say that again.” you moan.

gojo’s head drops and he lets out a shaky breath as if he’s about to cry. “w-what?”

“beg me again, then i’ll suck your cock.” you sneer up at your silver haired lover evilly just as your mouth meets his sticky clothed cockhead, the spit and heat from your mouth seeping through the layers of fabric in your way. “i wanna hear you moan for me, ‘toru. like you love me.” you press, switching to taking the man’s zipper between the rows of your teeth.

satoru gojo has never been a stickler for the rules, whatever he does is usually for his own personal gain…but when you command him like that, he can’t help but to blindly stumble after you, hanging onto your every sugar-coated word. “fucking hell, please baby. need to feel your mouth on me…fuck, your tongue,” gojo rambles on weakly. “please, please, want it so bad i might fucking die.” he does some of the work for you, shedding his belt and causing it’s buckle to clink satisfyingly against your ears.

satoru’s eagerness sends a shockwave of pleasure straight to your clit. your patience seems to be wearing thinner than his, for you jump forward like a cat on the prowl and peel back the remaining layers of satoru’s clothes without mercy for any of the fabrics. his gasps and muttered pleas coax you into the dark, addictive enigma that is satoru gojo — clouding your mind whilst setting your body on fire with hell flames.

you kiss at satoru’s slender hips the more his pants and boxers come down, twirling your tongue into the tufts of silver hair that form his happy trail too. a soft, honeysuckle chuckle from you resounds in the bathroom’s echoing chamber when you finally reveal enough of gojo’s cock for it to spring free — twitching as it’s exposed to fresh air. satoru is longer where he might lack thickness, though he’s chubby enough to keep you plugged full of his cum usually. his balls are plump and pink, heavy with a load that’s just waiting to be spent on you — evidence of his arousal taking the form of opaque pearls set at the tip of his dick.

speaking of, gojo’s cockhead burns bright red and shines as if it’s glossed and sticky like your lips — blue pulsating veins spiral around his flushed shaft, rivalling the shade of his eyes as he observes your next moves. you’re sure to make your touch tender as you take his entire length between your fingers, smoothing the supple pad of your thumb over his sensitive tip and rubbing the precum into it sweetly.

he smells so good, the musky scent of satoru’s cock and his arousal act like the fumes of a drug you know all too well — it takes over your consciousness and stream of thought, controlling your actions from then on. you feel everything all at once, your tongue writhing in place at the bottom of your mouth, satoru’s thighs trembling lightly and his cock throbbing while blood rushes through it. a haughty moan scratches at the ridges in his throat when you finally grip him properly — soft little hands dwarfed by his sheer length, palm brushing over the flushed forked veins that separate at the base. “j-jesus, beautiful,” satoru hisses, lips between his sharp white teeth. “you gotta give a little…drivin’ me insane with these little touches. please just suck it…please i’m beggin’ you—“

the air in his lungs grows thin like that at the peak of a mountain when you finally give in, dragging your lips over the cream gathering at his mushroomed cockhead before kitten-licking through its seedy slit in order to tease him a little more. opening up your mouth, you prepare to swallow satoru down, just as you have done many times before. you know everything he likes, what makes him tick, what has him cumming in seconds…however, just as your warm breath coasts along his shaft — he pulls back from your hold.

“wait,” he says through a shudder. “you wanna smoke?” satoru pulls a joint from his crumpled pocket, licking his lips as he searches for its partner in crime — a lighter.

you frown, choosing to palm him instead of taking him into your mouth just yet. his cock jumps at the simple movement, leaking milky white against your knuckles, tainting your skin. “we’ll get into trouble, ‘toru.” you state like it’s obvious, speaking over the slick sound of your hand gently pumping satoru. your movements are aided by just how wet his cock is, fingers slipping and sliding up and down his girth whilst being guided by the thick globs of precum beading at his tip.

“s-since when did you care about the rules? you’re fucking me here, aren’t you?” his breathing falters as he shakily attempts to set the end of his joint alight. you don’t dare stop pleasuring your brother's best friend, even if there’s a nagging voice at the back of your head telling you that this is bad, that it’s all too much. “help me out for a sec, beautiful? hold this in your mouth while i light it.” satoru’s voice drops an octave as he shoves the splif between your arousal glossed lips (replacing the fenty that once spread their shine across them) — he stares you down through his long, white lashes as he flicks the lighter at the end, setting fire to the rizzler. “thank you, little one.”

the pet name makes your skin crawl and the weed in your mouth only amplifies that voice in your head. you should quit while you still can, you might be able to cope with the withdrawals then, and spend the rest of your life making it up to suguru for leading him astray. little one. the nickname he’d so fondly called you quickly becomes something you hate. it’s meaning changed easily by none other than satoru gojo.

his power over you is still so strong despite his cock being at the mercy of your feather light grip and plush lips. once you set a steady rhythm to jerking gojo off and the joint burns dangerously close to your nose, he takes it from you and lovingly pats your cheek — placing it between his own lips before blowing a ring of smoke into the humid air.

satoru’s head collapses back against the mirror, his moonshine hair perfectly tousled despite being out of place. his locks stick to the icy surface of the glass, brought on by the cold sweat from your temperate mouth. the pair of you share a harmonious tune of wet whimpers and gargled gripes when you take your lover down your throat, sinking down on him until your nose nudges the prickliness of his happy trail.

you flex your tongue, letting it swirl around satoru’s girth from the base to the tip. “o-oh fuck, baby!” he exclaims through a hybrid sound, a cross mix between a raspy chuckle and high pitched moan. shakily; satoru takes a puff of his joint as if to calm himself down. he looks down at you with a lustful, love laden gaze, dropping a hand to the top of your head — careful not to push on it as you work your mouth down on him. “don’t worry… ‘m not gonna fuck your mouth. know you don’t like that, just wanna…touch you.” it nearly kills him as well, the way you look up, with shiny eyes and full cheeks. “god, you take it so well, huh?”

of course, satoru had been the one to teach you how to suck dick back when you first started messing around two years ago. he’d coaxed you through it, teaching you step by step so you could get him off just how he liked. he made it so that you wouldn’t ever want to please a man the same way you pleased him — rewiring all the nerves in your brain to make sure it was only gojo that you wanted to deep throat.

so you nod diligently in reply, swallowing down on gojo and letting out a gentle hum that causes dopamine to crackle along the insides of his skull. hollowing your cheeks, your throat contracts around his thick length until you feel his bulbous tip dragging over your uvula — testing your own talented mouth. he’s so glad that he taught you how to do that, you down on your knees, entrapping him in the searing heat of your hellfire mouth. if suguru could see you now, he’d only be able to picture the spawn of the devil and it’s cruel how you don’t even care. after everything he’s done for you.

your eyes flutter shut at the heaviness of satoru’s dick on your tongue, forcing you to taste the viscous precum that oozes down your throat in slow waves. the flavour is just as addictive as the scent of weed tangling with sex in the air — you don’t see yourself going to rehab either.

eventually, you decide to pull off of satoru with a lewd pop, filling your lungs with the oxygen they so dearly missed. you find yourself light headed for deep-throating him for that long but you also find it to be completely worth it — especially because of the look of pride satoru gives you. “such a pretty little cockslut,” he sucks his teeth, petting your head and brushing his hand over the square partings of your braids. “you look so happy sucking on my cock, baby. didn’t think you were gonna come up for air.”

in place of your mouth, your palm starts to stroke satoru at a steady pace — slickening up the centre of your hand. he’s so big between your hands you can only imagine how he’ll feel stretching you out later tonight, causing drool to pool in your mouth like a hot flash flood as you catch your breath. vivid azure eyes flutter at the salacious mix of pain and pleasure when you give satoru’s shaft a teasing squeeze, using your other hand to give the same treatment to his plump, sore balls.

somehow, he manages to continue on muttering taunting you. “cause i’m the only thing you need, right? who needs air to breathe when you have me feeding my cock into that hot, wet open mouth.” he drags a thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down as he looms over you — breathing a cloud of cannabis smoke into you. shot-gunning you while you continue to jerk him off, it tastes of him and the alcohol in his breath and the weed on his tongue. he looks so good above you like this, hooded eyes and rose tinted cheeks. satoru is the perfect picture of god’s work and you’d be foolish to pretend that the sight of him didn’t make your cunt throb and a familiar feeling begin to stem in the pit of your stomach. “good fucking girl.”

he thrusts shallowly through your closed fist matching his rhythm to the tune in which you flick your wrist. you waste no time in working up a pace fast enough to have your lover melting like putty in your hands — literally. you miss his cock in your mouth, how heavy it makes your tongue feel and paw at his spit slicked erection like a puppy begging for treats.

“when you t-touch me like that…” satoru drawls, notes of praise layered over his whiny voice makes your own juices gather at the crotch of your panties, makes your head spin but that might just be the weed. “i could fucking cum, baby.”

sweat beads in large, fat droplets at gojo’s hairline, darkening the bright colour of his hair. the liquid soaks through his white shirt too, showcasing how fucked out he truly is. he thrusts again, and again, and again, chasing the high your hand gives his creamy aching cock. “then let me make you cum,” you giggle, dropping your head slightly to make out with the sloppy tip of satoru’s dick, lapping happily at whatever he gives you. “let me taste you.”

a dirty laugh rings in the buzzing air and gojo throws the burly arm that holds his joint over his wet face, wiping it clean of all the sweat. in the next moment, he cups the youthful roundness to your pretty face — calloused fingertips digging into your baby fat cheeks and sun-kissed skin. “that’s cute, but i’m not quite done with you yet, gorgeous.” still hunched over you, gojo finds the milky trail his cock has left over the seam of your lips and kisses you — dangerously slow. he simpers at the taste of himself on your lips, tangling with the plastic-like taste from the remainders of your gloss. he licks the sweat from your Cupid’s bow as well.

he sucks the precum from your tongue and licks harsh stripes into your mouth — reaching further back to cup the back of your head, keeping you pressed against him. the both of you moan like idiots into one another’s mouths, drinking down the song of blissful laments and greedy gripes. the kiss seems to last forever, going on and on until you wince at the slight burn of satoru’s joint against your cheek, but you never stop jerking him off — slick and dewy sounds of skin meeting skin providing the adlibs to your nasty, sex song.

only then does satoru let you go, though, his hips continue to dart forward and ram into your closed fist — they contradict with his words. while gojo wants so much more, they chase his innate desire to cum. paint your pretty face or your talented tongue. their rhythm is assaulting and aberrant.

“but you’re so close…” you tempt him with your silky voice, dipping your head and bobbing it once more to encompass his lengthy girth into your heated mouth again. dopamine sparks like explosions across the synapses in his brain when he witnesses your cheek bulge from the force of taking his tip in, his slit rubbing deliciously against the soft epithelium there. gojo doesn’t know how he’ll survive after tonight, when you force him to confess to your family and everything blows up in his face.

oh how he’ll miss your cute little mouth sucking down his cock like your life depends on it.

“you’re right, shit…you’re right, princess,” satoru pants avidly, taking another drag of the joint nestled between his shaky fingers — he throws his head back as the grey smoke hits the fresh hair, tainting it with the scents and flavours from the kiss he’d given to your sinful mouth. “i think i might…ohhhh ohhh. i really wanna—“ he throws his head back and you can tell that your lover is really trying to stave off his orgasm to make this last forever.

you still in surprise when he jams a boot between your soaked thighs from underneath your dress. “‘toru!” comes your little gasp, grinding down on the cold leather if his shoe instinctively. he used the toe of his chelsea boot to pull back the hood of your clit, pressing down on the swollen bud to stimulate you. w-what are you doing?”

“g-gotta make you cum before i do,” he offers as a weak explanation all while spreading your puffy pussy lips apart.

you lavishly run your tongue through the opening of satoru’s cockhead, moaning at the taste and texture but continuing to hump his foot happily. “s’a bit late for that, baby.” you say with a sultry voice, low and sexy. “you can just eat me out afterwards.”

“do we even…? o-oh, okay. ‘m there… i-i’m close,” he trips and stumbles through his words, losing control of his taut hips that batter your poor, dripping fist while you spit down onto him. the frothy mix slides down and catches on the prominent veins spiralling around his dick to the base. which you give a squeeze. “do we even have time for that?” gojo asks, struggling to breathe through the smoke from his joint.

“i guess you’ll just have to hurry up ‘n cum for me. be quick, and we’ll see.” you glance up at him, so debauched yet so innocent. like a pretty flower tended to and cared for (by suguru) except you have prickly, threatening thorns.

gojo’s release starts to sneak up on him, senses heightened by the recreational drug coursing through the healthy blood in his veins. “y-you’re so bad. h-how the fuck did i get involved with you?” he laughs loud and menacingly, whilst looking completely and utterly deranged. gojo doesn’t let up on stimulating your pussy, humming around the spliff tucked between his perfect lips when you gush in response to him. dirty, depraved little girl. “g’na cum. g’na cum! let me cum. fuck, where do you want it?”

“i can swallow, satoru. give it to me.” your mouth and wrist begin to hurt — but you find it all worth it to have satoru collapse above you, lose to the snap of the thin thread of his sanity. he grabs ahold of his own dick, taking over from you, and smiles brilliantly when you stick out your tongue just for him. it rolls over your pretty lower lip, cherry red from your ministrations and slightly swollen from it all.

one. two. three.

he taps his soiled cockhead against the slobbery palette of your tongue — feeding you the last stream of his precum right before his big release. you press a hand to gojo’s tummy, feeling it fight and contact against your touch. he can’t hold back anymore, everything is too hot and too tight and too much. the roll up of weed between his teeth is gone, his beautiful eyes are hidden away from the world and before either of you know it — his high is hitting him like a tonne of bricks.

just like that, gojo loses the steady stream of his hips and his orgasm rips through him, warm and viscous seed floods your mouth — even seeping out at the corner of your bruised lips. it spurts copiously from his ravaged cock, painting your throat a shade of white too.

“h-holy shit!” satoru cries out loudly, tears springing to his eyes and gathering in his lashes. you don’t stop pumping at his dick until he’s done cumming, catching any misfires of his arousal with your tongue. you swallow in satisfaction and take to leaving small kisses against his tummy and hip bones until he stops trembling and returns to earth from the bright, silver moon that blessed his hair.

he quickly abandons his joint.

even though his legs are shaky and he can hardly breathe, static ringing loudly in his ears — satoru finds the strength within himself to pick you up from the floor and manhandles you against the bathroom door. a streak of excitement courses through you while you set your palms flat on the surface, allowing satoru to squish your left cheek against it too.

you’re barely able to turn your head back to look at him, a shy and coy smile spreading across your lips when you catch a glimpse of the dark expression coasting over satoru’s handsome features. “oh? what’s gotten into you?”

“you think i’m just gonna let you make me cum like that, and i’m not gonna get you off?” he answers your question with a question, growling out the syllables of each word impatiently. “i wish i could just rip this damn dress off’a you. it’s such a shame we have to go out there and say hi to your family afterwards.” using his foot, gojo kicks your ankles apart so that you’re nice and spread open for him — he inhales nastily while pushing your skirts up to sit at your hips, breathing in the scent of your gooey cunt as it cries for him. cries to be filled up by him. if asked, he could recognise the sweet aroma from your sex like a bloodhound chasing after a target. he’s got you committed to memory, he loves you that much.

the tulle of your dress rivals the colour of his eyes even when darkened with debauchery — it turns him on to know you wear his colour so proudly even in front of suguru. his hands shake as he messes with the fabric and you can just tell he’s fighting off the urge to tear it away from your body. if only you had the time. if only you were the only two people in the world.

without suguru, he could love up on you for hours with no issues. without suguru, you could perhaps be together without having to hide. without suguru — well, you hate yourself for even thinking that way. he’s your brother… and you need him. but clearly not as much as you need satoru to fill you up with something — tongue, fingers, cock. you’d take it all right now. take all of him.

you’re distracted by the feel of your lover’s searing lips against your naked shoulders, swooping down to place kisses on them tenderly. they’re more fluid, softer as satoru’s fingertips trickle over your breasts and pinch your pebbling nipples from over the bust of your dress. they cascade down to your waist next and suddenly your dress feels all too tight around your hips. your panties too sticky between your folds. you want them both off, and fast.

“s-satoru,” you murmur needily, arching your back into his broad chest — shivering at the roughness of his shirt on your skin. “satoru, please.” you add, hissing when his curious fingers delve beneath your skirts to press into the seam of your underwear, getting a feel for your wetness and how ready you are for him.

he shifts his fingers upwards, working them up to massage your clit in warm and rough circles — distracting you from giving gojo a proper answer so he can play with you a little more. “hmm?” comes gojo’s lazy reply. his head drops to your neck again and his tongue leaves a snails trail of saliva over the path of kisses he’s left on your skin “what’s the matter, baby? what do you need?” he mumbles in a lower octave right into your ear, tufts of white hair tickle your skin, only causing goosebumps to rise across it in a ripple effect.

pouting, your hips rise enough for him to possibly stick his hands down your panties to touch you properly — but satoru chooses to be mean, moving up to rub your tummy teasingly. “for you to… mph, please.”

“come on now little one. what is it that you’re after?” he scolds you playfully, toying with the little ribbon on the scalloped edge of your panties. you hate that him teasing you only serves to make you hush and turn you on more, a small trickle of your arousal running down your inner thigh. “use your words, be my good little girl,” pinging your waistband against your stomach, satoru adds to the seed of desire growing there — helping it to grow and nurturing it. “my fingers? my tongue?”

“t-tongue!” you squeal at the painful sting, not in pain — because you like it when gojo hurts you a little bit. it’s like a punishment for betraying your older brother.

“thank you for telling me, baby, your wish is my command.” at first, satoru doesn’t make a move to eat you out — instead, forces his hand deep into your panties to touch your clit, nice and raw. the silver haired man grins at the way you clench around nothing as he circles your tight little entrance and squirt small dribbles of your juices for him. “fuck, you’re so fucking wet for me, even now. even after sucking my cock and grinding on my shoe. if only suguru could see how nasty you are right now.” he could, at any moment geto could knock on that door and see you dripping on his best friend’s hand. the sentiment shouldn’t make you more aroused, you should make you feel horrified.

but as gojo dips a finger into your greedy little pussy, you realise that you’re just as depraved as him and that in the moment — you really don’t care.

because all you feel is ecstasy.

pushing back onto the sole finger squirming about against your squishy insides, you decide that you’ll deal with geto and the consequences of fucking his best friend later — rather, choosing to focus on how satoru immediately finds your g-spot because he knows your gummy, rippling walls like the backs of his masterful hands. the same hands and digits that skilfully trace the letters of his name into your pulsating clit.

“mmph… oh fuck. f-fuck you!” reaching between your soiled thighs and underneath a plethora of tulle, you grip gojo’s wrist to keep him in place, locked between your legs with his fingers stuffed in your cunt.

“fuck me, baby?” he coos to you in a patronising tone. “oh, sweetheart. i’m about to fuck you. gonna make you cum so hard. make you see stars…no, galaxies.” satoru pulls his finger out and nudges your sticky thighs apart again just to make sure that he has the space, enough room to cup the entirety of your sopping mound from over the fabric. so hot and filthy and sappy for him. satoru laments in satisfaction, yanking your panties down in one fail swoop and watching with perverted cobalt eyes as strings of your slick tie your honeyed sex to the material.

sniffling, you turn your head back as far as it’ll go to stare down your boyfriend with big, wet eyes and a blubbering voice. “please... i can’t wait anymore…” you hiccup like a petulant child who had their favourite toy stolen. pleading for something, anything to alleviate the unbearable yearning twisting in your gut.

your lover tsks in response, slowly descending to his knees behind you while his fingers coated in your succulent nectar grasp and knead at your fleshy ass — streaking it with clear marks. “okay, okay…poor baby.” gojo says airly in an attempt to console you like a mother would her crying infant. “you’re so needy, pretty girl. if anyone walking by could hear you, they’d think i weren’t fucking you right.” that’s far from true and the both of you know it, satoru is the only one who could appease you, take care of all your sexual needs — outside of that…you’re not so sure. you’re then reminded that suguru wouldn’t want satoru taking care of you ever. it makes your stomach flip with a confusing mix of lust and guilt.

“you want it that bad, don’t ya? you wanna feel good.” the man purrs from behind you, salacious voice a breath’s width away from your cunt while he licks a trail up your inner thigh. the vibrations reverberate through your skin, dancing right up to your swollen, unattended clit. “promise i’ll make you feel so, so good.” you’re almost embarrassed at how much you throb against gojo’s lips when he shoves his face into your pussy from behind, nudging his nose over your pleasure bud in circles until you open up for him like a flower in bloom.

you grind back against him passionately, rubbing your luscious and drenched folds all over his handsome face in an attempt to tame the itch of bliss that spreads through each and every one of your limbs. you’re tempting him but your sweet little whimpers and circling hips hardly coax satoru away from what he’s planning. his tongue doesn’t fuck it’s way past your quivering entrance like he’d said, but instead is replaced by a heavy hand smacking down hard on your pussy.

“satoru!” you cry out in an awful mix of delight and shock, sounding a little unhinged. “y-you promised!”

“yeah, yeah. i know… couldn’t help it. i just love it when you cry for me.” juices run down his forearm as if he’s bitten into a ripened peach and satoru gets the perfect view of your juicy ass jiggling for him too. he amorously slurps up the trail, leaning forward with an appetite to eat you out for real this time and nestled his tongue between your twitching, titillating folds.

he repeats the process again and again and again, smacking your poor pussy until you really are crying — chest heaving while you sob from both ends, tears ruining your perfect baby blue eyeshadow for the night. not having gojo’s mouth on you is like hell on earth, being spanked until you’re raw is torture too, especially when you’ve been holding back an orgasm for at least fifteen minutes. nevertheless, it all feels so fucking heavenly.

you search for a vice, something you can ground yourself with and settle for scraping your nails along the doors. satoru chuckles, tapping your sticky ass lovingly and even going as far as to kiss you there. “alright, i’ve had my fun and i’m done messing with you baby,” he hums sweetly, “lean back for me, put it on me baby. let your man eat you out.”

wrapping a strong arm around your middle, gojo pulls you back onto his awaiting, eager mouth. the first thing he does is slot his mouth against the entirety of your soaked slit, moaning loud and tugging at your heartstrings while the vibrations send you spiralling. the very tip of his tongue slips past your entrance with slight resistance from how thick it is, wriggling about in order to search for that special spot that makes you see stars. he press kisses, wet and sloppy, miscalculated, between your swollen folds and slurps up whatever you leak as if you’re drooling valuable liquid gold.

not a drop can be or will be wasted on satoru gojo.

keenly, your hips canter back onto gojo’s face — your plush ass cheeks jiggle with each thrust onto his tongue as though you’re reverse riding his cock. it fills you up just as nice too, warm and slippery against ecstasy inducing pinpoints along the ridges of your sluice walls. he can’t help but whine loudly at every roll of your pussy over his face, you taste so fucking good and he’ll drink you in as though you’re a tall glass of water. between sucks and slurps, your lover kitten licks at your core animalistically — lascivious sounds from between your thighs topping off the air in the bathroom.

your cute little clit, prominent and hard because of blood rush and it’s burning desire, is next on satoru’s bucket list. the sharpness of his teeth latch onto it, rolling it between their two sets roughly until you’re clawing at your own throat for air — trying your hardest not to scream and frighten the poor passers by. you’ve become such a mess and it pleases the white haired man, to see you gushing like a fruitful stream straight into his thirsty mouth, down his chin and cheeks — even over his bobbing adam’s apple.

your hands leave a track of sweat as they slip down the door you’re plastered on and your chest rises and falls rapidly while you’re tongue fucked by your boyfriend. there’s no room to breathe or to cope, satoru’s tongue pinned to your clit like a moth to candle flame — drawing rough shapes on your clit before sweeping downwards just beneath your clenching hole to catch what oozes from it before it can hit the ground. oh, if only you could see him, his bright blue eyes just as watery and lovesick as your own and his face pink with a sun-burn type of blush from how hot he is for you.

if you tried hard enough, to listen in over the sounds of your wet pussy being sucked on for dear life as well as satoru’s content gripes and laments — you can just about make out the vehement and delectable noises of him avariciously jerking off his pre-cum flowing cock while he prepares it to fuck you later on.

“y-yeah…oh my god, satoru. satoru don’t stop!” the words feel tacky in your mouth as you try to get them out, communicate to gojo how good he makes you feel. he likes it when you’re vocal with him, and you the same, it makes you both feel heard and happy to know that you’re pleasing your partner. though, it’s a little difficult for you, when you’re so dizzy you don’t know what’s up or down and you can’t help but to cream around the base of gojo’s tongue while it twists against your lush and gushy inner walls.

briefly, your brother’s best friend pulls away from your cunt — remaining connected to you by a rope of clear elixir leaked from your tight hole. “wouldn’t dream of it, pretty girl. god… i just wanna fuck you up. make you scream a little more…” he snarls like a beast, his big hands roughly grabbing your ass as he spreads them — watching the webs of arousal form while he peels each cheek away from one another. “fucking hell… you’re drenched. but we can’t be too loud, don’t want someone to hear.” there’s a higher pitched lilt to gojo’s sacchariferous mithers as he delves back under your skirts, bobbing his entire head to drag his tongue between your fat pussy folds.

jolting at the sensation, which provides a welcome distraction from the fact that your family…your brother, are waiting obviously just metres away, your hips begin to chase the high you’ve been holding back for what seems like hours now. viciously, you ride satoru’s tongue like it’s a perfectly plump cock made to plug you full. “uhuh, oh…fuck yeah. ride it for me, pretty girl, ride my t-tongue. m-make yourself feel good. fuck my face…please, please, please.” gojo begs you, even though most of his speech is muffled and you’re the one at his mercy.

shame should be running through you, not hunger for gojo, you shouldn’t want to drive your hips down onto his face so hard that his nose prods your clit over and over again. you’re so dirty, filthy and nasty for doing this…here of all places. but you can’t help the way gojo fucks you nor the way gojo feels. you don’t think you want to give that up for your brother. even if it costs you.

you can’t imagine a life without hearing satoru’s needy groans between your legs, the ones that set fireworks off at your tailbone — where all of that unreleased pleasure builds up.

“you’re gonna cum…” he sighs dreamily. “want you to cum for me. let it go, let it all out f’me.” gojo adds and from then on — his mouth stays married to your needy cunt, focused on working you right to the edge and pushing you over. he licks you up and down, anchors you to his face with that same arm snaking its way around your waist again — mostly to hold you up because you’re so shaky from the ecstasy in your veins that you can’t do it on your own.

the whole ordeal is sickening and beautiful all at the same time — no one knows your body like satoru does. no other man has any idea how to please you in the way that he does. they don’t know that you like it when he flicks his tongue against your sluice and sweet sex with an open mouth just so you can hear him eat you out. they have no idea about how sensitive you are when you’re close, that brushing up against your g-spot with the tip of gojo’s tongue is enough to have you spewing a fresh wave of your essence from your pathetic hole.

the delirium and rapture that mounts within you, like bricks stacked in bricks, becomes too much for you to bear — some of your release already starting to trickle out of you in clear streams. “‘m cumming, ‘toru!” you warn him in a high pitched squeal before it’s too late, white noise filling your ears as you succumb to a powerful orgasm.

satoru gojo thinks that if he died right here, right now, he would be happy — he wouldn’t even care. what, with the way you gush into his mouth like tidal waves of a wild tsunami, guilt flushed out of your system by tonnes of arousal. you clamp down on his tongue and practically suffocate the man, humping weakly at gojo’s face until your entire body is limp and you have absolutely nothing left to give.

once you’ve made it through the aftershocks of your high, satoru slowly retreats from between your thighs and makes his way to your body, spinning you around and capturing your lips in a delicately placed kiss before your brain has the sense to wake up. the night should end here, you should push him away and fix yourself up in a good enough state to return to suguru and the rest of your family to enjoy dinner…stop the guilt from bubbling up.

but satoru has always had a way about charming you.

“we’re not finished yet…” he whispers to you passionately, his own hips pinning you to the bathroom door so you can feel his second erection rub against your tummy. “there’s more of you to ruin.” he continued to lament, his lips stained with your arousal grazing your own before he licks into your mouth so you can taste what he tastes too. automatically, your body bows into his — ready to have what he’s got waiting for you.

perhaps your mind is still lagging, because you feel it before you see it — the tacky love taps of your lover’s cock against your stimulated sex, the lewd squelch that comes from gojo’s cockhead poised and ready to jut forward past your fluttering entrance. “i want you so fucking badly, i gotta… need to be inside you…” he moves to hike your thigh up against his slender hips — preparing to bottom out inside of you, but you stop him just before then with your nails digging into his sweat laden dress shirt.

“can i ride you?” you ask him hazily.

“what?” gojo bleats, confused and enamoured all at once.

swallowing thickly, you repeat your words — leisurely rolling your hips back and forth in a premature pussy job. being sure to rub yourself back and forth against the length of satoru. “can i ride you?”

“fuck me,” he sniggers breathlessly and says your name. “aren’t you just full of surprises tonight? you can do whatever you want to me, baby. i can take it.”

with his permission, you undo the last of gojo’s buttons and smooth over the expanse of his place flesh, thumb at his budding pink nipples and then, form a necklace around his unmarred throat with your hands. he coughs and splutters in surprise but allows you to walk him backwards until the backs of his knees hit the toilet and he topples onto its seat in a sitting position.

your hand moves swiftly to cup gojo’s jaw as you look above him and stand between his thighs that instantly manspread to make room for his pretty little baby between them. one of your perfectly manicured nails drags down his bottom lip, then becomes a finger that delves deep into the heat of his mouth. “you’re… you’re beautiful,” he gargles around the digit, staring deep into your soulful brown eyes. “and i adore you.” it’s true. you’re the most perfect thing he’s ever seen even if your braids are askew and your dress is ruffled and your makeup is almost entirely gone.

even when you have satoru gojo in a choke hold like this you’re still stunning to him. not one thing could tarnish such rare beauty that you posses. if the end of his life came in this moment, he wouldn’t even mind. he wonders if you’re aware of that fact or still believe the little voice in your mind telling you that he’s just using you.

gojo was bad with words, he knows that. he often got timings wrong and said things at the wrong time (like now when he tries to tell you that he loves you but in his own words, hence ‘adore’) but he always means them. he can tell that you’re getting in your head right now, standing above him — trying to decipher if he’s telling the truth. if he wanted you, you wished he’d say he wanted you. explicitly.

he wished that he could tell you explicitly, but he’s so fucked up in the head that he struggles.

so instead, satoru takes your hand in his (the one in his mouth) and moves it far back enough so that he can kiss your knuckles sweetly. a gesture to prove his truth to you. one to prove how much he loves you.

the hard expression on your face softens and you drop to satoru’s lap — straddling him so that his girth presses directly against your juicy cunt like before and your thighs are either side of his. “then make love to me,” you goad him, circling your hips and chasing the delicious burn of his dick pressing into you — a feeling that you miss all the time but can never get used to. “love me like you mean it.”

it’s not long before satoru is at your neck again, leaving a trail of gentle kisses along its plaines. “i can do that. i can give that to you. do you think you’ll be able to take it?” he questions lightly, a large hand splaying across your back — prepared to guide your movements.

“y-yeah… ‘m ready.” you exhale carefully, your mind pleasantly fuzzy as gojo grabs onto your ass and encourages you to raise your hips for him. the other hand now holds onto his dripping dick to position it at your entrance — he runs it through your soaked folds a couple times and dips in and out of your hole. you make such a cute little noise when satoru starts to push into you, sucking him in so well and clenching around the circumference of his bulbous tip as if to trap him inside before you’ve managed to sink down on him. it continues like that for a little while, satoru holding you up by your ass or your thighs while he patiently waits for you to take him the rest of the way.

he fucks you gently with the tip at first, getting you used to the delicious stretch to your pussy — despite the resistance he meets from how tight you are.

“there you go baby…you can take over now. sink down on me when you’re able to, kay?” satoru peppers your face in amusement while he watches you try to stabilise your breathing. there’s a long way to go and you’re still so sensitive from your last orgasm. “hm, you’re so fuckin’ cute.” he muses, nipping at your cheek without any real bite.

“s-shut up,” you state through a pout, controlling your tears which only make your love snort affectionately. crescent moons from your nails take their shape in satoru’s milky shoulders, leaving pink indents in place as you slide further down his cock, taking inch by inch until you’re comfortably nestled at his balls. “satoru…why’s there so much of you?” in reality, you’re not actually complaining — content with your ribbed walls kissing the prominent veins on his shaft. you clench around him experimentally, sending a ripple of desire through the man at your mercy and finally let him bottom out inside of you as your juices run down him.

he does nothing but smile lazily up at you, taking your wrists and coordinating them to rest on his chest for you to use as more comfortable leverage. as much as you like the way he’s pressed up against your insides — you find the strength to peel your hips away from satoru’s clothed thighs and thrust back down with a resounding, wet slap that echoes throughout the restaurant bathroom.

it should be criminal, maybe even illegal, how warm, tight and wet you are — as if you’re a virgin who’s never been fucked before. he splutters and stammers as his overstimulated cockhead nudges against your silken walls and they quiver around him feverishly. he could charge you with a life sentence, keeping him jailed in your pretty pussy for life. “i know i said i’d let you ride me but god,” he whispers, trailing his fingers up the front of your dress. just as ice cold and ringed fingers circle your areolas from over the fabric, satoru thrusts up into you — driven insane by lust and desire, his eyes disappear onto the dark night of his skull. “cant help it… i wanna make you feel good. wanna fuck you.”

there’s no time for you to respond, no chance to wrack your brain for a witty comeback because you’re too busy focusing on trying to keep yourself seated in gojo’s lap. your eyes become misty and satoru’s voice becomes murky, breaths of exertion coasting over your lips and your skin as he sets a constant, almost bullying, pace to his slender hips as they barrage into your sex. it’s hard enough to pull squelching sounds from your messy pussy, and enough for the sound of his breeder’s balls to reverberate between your working bodies.

in this position, satoru is able to hit deep — churn your gummy insides up and hit every pleasure spot your tiny fingers can’t reach. you’re a slumped and helpless mess in his lap, pathetic, since you were the one who wanted to be on top in the first place. but neither of you mind it, satoru likes being able to take care of you like this, watch every contortion of your angelic face and twitch of your lips and flutter of your lashes as he pounds into you from below.

“that’s it… that’s it pretty girl,” he coos to you so softly, glancing up at you with massive silvery-blue eyes holding pure fixation for you. “you want it so bad, letting me have you like this. i love it, i love yo—” he cuts himself off with a deep growl and reaches around the meat at your waist, your soft tummy as well as your plentiful skirts to graze your clit as arousal pearls over it — each brush at the swelling nub is calculated and catered exactly how you like, especially after falling into sheets with him so many times over the last two years. his touch treads softly on your body while he takes it slow, passionately ruining your insides.

you hiccup and a light sparks behind the sapphire frame of your lover’s eyes. he repeats the action, only this time pinching your clit before he carefully pulls you close and angles his hips into your g-spot a little more — worshipping your body like a queen on her throne. “listen to that baby, your pussy sounds so pretty taking all of me.” gojo punctuates his words with deep, purposeful movements that have his achingly hot cock repeatedly jamming against that one particular spot. “you need it like this, need me to always take the lead, hm? you act like you’re such a big girl, but really you’re just my needy little one.”

satoru feeds you a mix of praise and light condescending remarks, keeping you under his spell just like always has. as if he were a pied piper using his darling moans to draw you in. he keeps you pacified like a baby with languid thrusts and sloppy kisses all over — barely giving you a moment to think independently. the hand wrapped around your waist keeps you anchored to gojo, teaching you dance in a sensual sticky grind that only lovers know how to do.

dropping your forehead to rest against his, you let out a blissful whimper. “s’not fair, you always… ah f-fuck! you always take control from me,” you’re supposed to be the one using satoru. using him to take your mind off of suguru while you remind the man of all the reasons he should love you openly and publicly. but, like always, you fall victim to the touch which causes you to blossom above satoru and the candied voice he uses that make sweet nectar pour from your abused little hole.

“it’s cause you adore me,” gojo tells you in a rough voice. states it like it’s fact written in a history book for lovers. you can’t and don’t have time to deny him — managing a weak whine of annoyance when his lips attach to the cliffs of your collar bones. his tongue rolls saliva over the area where he can’t leave a physical mark, knowing that the white hot sensation will stick with you all night — making it just as good as any other forbidden hickey or stolen love bite. “you love me, don’t you?”

“g-god yes!” neither of you have any idea what exactly it is you’re saying yes to — whether it be the way he pounds at your puffy, swollen mound or saying that you love him, it doesn’t really matter. you’re both too far gone. you finally start to grind down on him again, using all of your strength to push past your overstimulation and match satoru’s toe-curling stream of thrusts, syncing up your cantering hips. every stroke of his cock within the depths of your silken, pulsating cunt earns you a muffled whine from him.

a fresh red tint begins to glow under the surface of your lover’s pale skin, the blood coursing through his veins and coagulating at his cheeks is dotted with love and lust hormones just like your own. the fact that he’s barely able to pull out of your selfish pussy means that there’s a shine to his polyester clad thighs from your juices — the glisten barely catching under the artificial light in the bathroom.

everything overwhelms you, you feel like you’re drowning. fat beads of precum between your sore thighs begin to form because you’re clenching down on gojo so hard, his cock even fights it’s way to pull out of your addictive heat. you can’t let him go, your body won’t let him go, dragging him into the routine of crazy intense and creamy sex — bulbous and purpling cockhead consistently digging into your g-spot. everything is so wrong but it feels so right — it doesn’t make any sense but you feel so nice.

“yanno…” satoru slurs over the heavy weight of saliva spreading through his mouth while he runs it. “‘m so fucking lucky… to be the only man who gets to see you like this. whining so sweetly, legs all shaky, pussy so fucking wet.” appreciatively, his cruel cerulean gaze drops to where his milky cock disappears into your fat pussy and his digits move from your clit to spread your netherlips apart, putting the glaze of your essence that coats his rock hard girth on display.

gojo truly is so very lucky, to be the only man with the pleasure of jackhammering into you to his hearts content. he’s so lucky that there isn’t anyone else you want aside from him, that all you want his for him to be better for you. he really should work on that. especially if he wants to be the only one who lives and breathes you for the rest of forever. on the contrary, you hate that he only sees your worth to him while fucking you — it makes bitterness simmer underneath the absolute depraved ecstasy you feel.

but you’re not giving satoru gojo up. not in this lifetime.

taking advantage of your hands planted firmly against gojo’s broad chest — you peel your sweaty thighs away from gojo’s trembling ones, his cock being tugged away from the snugness of your oozing, sopping mound. an incredulous gasp lays wet on the seam of the silver haired man’s lips. he misses you. he wants you so bad and there’s no greater relief than when you slam back down onto his cock, hips cantering down so fast that he easily hits your womb. the force makes you both drool and you throw yourself forward to capture gojo in a messianic kiss between two lovers.

euphoria chillingly slips into your veins while you rock yourself against gojo feverishly, both of your chests heaving erratically from your love making. “you…you talk too much,” you mumble into his mouth, tongue rolling over his as if to swipe the words from his tongue. if he says anymore you won’t last any longer. you lick the salt from his lips, an obsessive glint in your eye — because satoru gojo is all that you want. “talk way too much…just love me, just fuck me.”

satoru wants to love you, it’s like he’s genetically coded to. he can’t imagine being this in love with anyone else aside from you — but there’s a selfish mental block on his mind that stops him from giving you the commitment you need. right now, in this moment, he’ll give you the pieces of himself that he can. he’ll make love to you, he’ll make you see stars and galaxies, he’ll do whatever he can to make you happy right here, right now.

sweat from the exertion of rutting into you pins his silvering locks to his forehead — it drips down the side of gojo’s face which you lovingly lick. your lover wraps both of his arms around your waist and pulls you in so that you nestle on his chest — giving you the leverage you need to pound yourself on curve of his cock, seeping viscous honey down his shaft. the scene is obscene, but there’s love and adoration buzzing between your tangled limbs.

hearts sprinkle themselves amongst the flecks in your eyes as you look up at gojo and your pupils dilate at the chorus of skin slapping on skin, the pap pap pap of your swollen mound while your lover buries himself deep in your warmth — pulling unholy sounds from your angelic body. the toilet he sits on creaks beneath the force of your ministrations, threatening to break just like you might on top of your lover.

“i’d do anything for you, a-anything you wanted,” gojo counters, quivering beneath you with his hair sticking to your sweltering skin. it’s true, he’d rip stars from the sky and skyscrapers to the ground. his heart chases after your every desire. between frenzied bucks and mismatched smooches, the man swipes his fingertips over your pulsating clit — rubbing fat droplets of creamy precum into your folds and the sensitive nub. the whole time, he keeps you stuffed full of his cock, hardly pulling out each time you lift and drop yourself on his dick.

mewling like a pornstar, your hands shoot upwards and wring themselves in moonlight hair — a tell tale sign that you’re getting closer and closer to reaching cloud nine. “y-yeah? then make me cum, l-let me make a mess on your cock. please.” you plead, the back and forth of your cunt over gojo’s lap tampering with your system by sending orgasmic shockwaves through you.

“i gotcha, anything for you, beautiful. s-shit!” using his free hand, gojo grabs at the fat of your ass and pulls you up and down on his girth — giving him the room to pummel your pussy hard and fast. “you squeeze me real tight when i act all desperate for you.”

“a-aren’t you? o-oh ‘toru, right there!” you exclaim and ask all at once in one high pitched moan, failing to press for an answer while gojo bullies his way through your walls and right up to your womb. your clit smears over his hipbone, painting him with tube dulcet juices.

gojo builds up momentum inside of you, dragging his seedy tip along your ravaged walls from how deep he’s able to get inside of you. “i am… only god knows that i am. fuck, i wanna be yours, want this to last forever,” white starts to froth at the base of his dick, streaking all over your soiled folds as your cunt squirts copious amounts of essence each time his balls clap against you. “think i’m gonna fuckin’ cum, might be inside.”

“satoru please…” your hips stutter above his, choking out gojo’s cock for fear life in an attempt to get him to fill you up to the brim with his seed. you tear up and he barely lets you off his twitching erection.

“i know baby, i fucking know — i’m right there with you. hold onto me. my fucking baby.” with the last of his energy, satoru assaults your pussy with a barrage of desperate thrusts, jerking you about in his lap. that’s all either of you need before you’re thrown over the edge, rendering you limp, cum soaked messes in one another’s arms. the ropes in your lower tummy, that have been burning this entire time, finally begins to unravel.

the world around you blurs, your brain fucking lags and you actually fucking squirt. a scream rips through you and burns at the edges of your voice, following through your uncontrollable shakes. clear streams of arousal shoot from your sloppy, dirty cunt and pool in satoru’s dress pants — soaking him to the bone.

“that’s it baby, give it to me. all of it, make a mess — want it all over me.” satoru goads hoarsely, losing control of his thrusts until they become uncoordinated and lackadaisical. “a-ah! oh! holy shit, mmm ‘m cumming baby. f-for you…” the aftershocks of your high and little twitches from your heavenly hole trigger the white haired man’s orgasm. right before his release, his hand reaches up from toying with your sex to grab at your sapphire pendant — using the chain to yank you up into a sensual lip lock that seals his fate, practically pulling it off of you while you make out through his high.

hot, sticky and thick ropes of white seed spill into you — there’s even so much of it that it overflows from your tiny entrance and oozes against your raw mound. you’re still cumming, forcing satoru out of you while he continues to flood your womb — what doesn’t make it is left to smear over your thighs and poofy dress, glazing you in viscous cum.

still releasing in spurts, satoru carefully pulls out of you and leans back against the cool tile of the bathroom wall so that you slump against his chest — relaxed. warm content simmers in the air between your maze of limbs and you leak against one another sweetly.

“so much for fixing your necklace,” satoru jests over the static itching at your brain while you come down from your earth-shattering high.

you offer him up a dopey smile, all of the tension from earlier on in the night melting away when you look at him. “we’ll have to hide it from suguru, so he doesn’t notice. we’ve been gone for a while too.” no matter what gojo puts you through, it’s always worth it for the way he makes you feel after sex.

warm, cherished and cared for.

just like suguru would want you to be.

“well, whose fault is that, little one?” a chaste kiss is pressed against your hairline as satoru helps you to sit up in his lap — drawing back slightly to give you a once over and mirroring the way you grin at him with a toothy smirk. “little miss ‘we don’t have time.’ — i’ll have to fix your make up, can’t have you walking back out there like i’ve just rocked your shit.”

despite his crude words, satoru’s gesture makes your chest bristle with happiness. “you’re an idiot, satoru gojo.”

“an idiot that you adore. an idiot who you like way too much,” he fires back childishly. “c’mere, let me get rid of the mess i made of you.”

you do, like him too much, a little too much for your own good.

it’s twisted, the mere fact that satoru has such a hold on your heart that you can’t seem to escape no matter how hard you try— and it only worsens when he’s good to you like this. so good with the way he helps you clean up, tends to your ruffled dress, redoes your smudged makeup and jokes with you while he dries his sex stained pants under the hand drier before you go back out to meet your family.

you’re a love sick fool when it comes to him.

and you have no idea how much that’s going to change.

suguru geto was not an idiot.

his numerous academic accolades are enough evidence of that. in highschol he graduated with a GPA of 4.0% which only escalated by the time he got to college — which was like a breeze to him. by the time he’d finished his four year degree, there was an industry opportunity waiting for geto on the other side of all of his hard work and efforts.

it pleased him to know that people thought highly of his skills, appreciated the knit and grit and blood, sweat and tears he put into his work. he had a passion for seeking the truth, discovering the reasons and meanings for people’s actions — it was suguru’s calling. that’s why he became a criminal defence lawyer.

why do people do what they do? why do people lie? why do people run and hide?

with all of suguru geto’s smarts and analytical skills — his ability it to think critically, you would think he’d have it all figured out by now.

suguru geto was not stupid.

so why is it that he can’t figure out what’s wrong with you? why you’ve been so skittish and why this entire night? he knows you, his baby sister, like you were his own flesh and blood. like you were the back of his slightly calloused and hard working hand. you may have been adopted, you may not share the same DNA but suguru has lived with you and been raised with you long enough to know how your genetic code reacts to certain pressures and scenarios and situations.

you’re his little sister for christ’s sake.

as you make your way back to your family’s designated table, weaving between pedigree bred children and their families, waiters and waitresses working tired on their feet — he notices how the tension you’d been experiencing the whole night has suddenly dissipated from your body as if it were never there. your shoulders have dropped, your movements flow as loosely as your baby blue cupcake dress does, your eyes are bright and full of an energy suguru has only seen once in someone else.

another soul he’s grown up with.

the very idea makes him feel ill, the food on his plate suddenly becoming unappealing and bitter against the insides of his mouth. you’re not… you would never…

“hi,” you greet the table tentatively, the corners of your cocoa painted lips quirking up into a small smile. “did i miss anything?”

suguru forgoes answering you to ask his own question. “where have you been?”

the chatter at your table dies down only just as your parents register your presence with the group once more — joining in on your conversation with your brother like a car merging lanes.

“oh! i was just in the bathroom… you know, girl stuff. powdering my nose.” you offer up as an excuse, twirling the end of your curled braids between your gentle fingers. a habit your brother knows you’ve picked up when you’re shy, yet, content. “you know how it goes.”

his dark eyes sweep over your face. suguru doesn’t know much about make-up, just that you like doing it. he had been the one to get you your first eyeshadow palette in your teen years but that’s as far as he goes. everything seems to be in place, perfect, you’re beautiful as you always have been.

but there’s a slight smudge to your lip combo that bleeds just past the curve of your cupid’s bow — out of place enough for geto to notice. the colour is different too. black instead of brown, as if you’ve mixed up the lipsticks in a rush.

suguru tries not to dwell. he really does. dropping the topic and retreating to his dinner plate while you idly chat to your parents about your new job but something in his gut stirs — he remembers something.

gojo is nowhere to be seen and your pendent is missing.

you can’t. you’d never…

as if on cue, the moonlight man returns to the party, loudly pulling out his seat and taking his place next to you once again. gojo’s hair is a mess, much messier than it was before… as if someone had roughed it up with desperate fingers. your chocolaty lip colour is smeared along his neck in deconstructed lip prints as if he’d tried to wash them away, dotted along the collar of his crisp white shirt too. the contrast of the colours make it blatantly obvious what’s been going on too. the silver chain of your necklace hangs freely from his pocket.

“did i miss anything?” he asks casually, despite how not-put-together he looks — much less in comparison to you, who’d returned to dinner first.

it makes geto’s skin itch and crawl, the similarity between your words and gojo’s. he can’t even think to reply, yet the words come tumbling out before he can stop them.

“wouldn’t you like to know,” suguru snaps callously. “where have you been?”

“wanted to see if the little miss made it back to the table alright.” gojo lies smoothly, resting a large hand on your shoulder. geto notes the way he strokes your neck with his thumb. “you know how she is, clueless without suguru, right?”

your parents and gojo burst out into charmed laughter, adding to the bustle and ambience of the restaurant. suguru’s face only sours as your father chime’s in next. “this one probably raised her better than i did. he was so excited to have a little sister, wouldn’t go anywhere without her.” it’s the alcohol that causes your father to blurt out the embarrassing memory — it’s sweet and cherished, but does nothing to help ease your brother’s boiling fury as he’s patted on the back by his dad.

pet like a dog getting a treat.

a reward for taking care of you all these years.

“yeah, raised her to be smart and proper. that’s why she’s a graduate and not mooching off of us anymore.” geto seethes from your left.

from your right, satoru reaches for his crystal glass for a drink — only to realise that it’s empty. he next reaches for the bottle of moscato ordered for the table, and pours some for himself until it levels out at the rim of his glass. “ouch suguru, way to hit a man where it hurts,” your ‘boyfriend’ whines petulantly, sipping the surface of his drink. “you know i work for dad now, you’d be so proud. still making money, not mooching off of his.”

you fiddle with your cutlery, the silverware awkwardly clattering against your plate while you finish off the steak you’d ordered. then, your mother breaks the tension.

“does anybody want to order dessert?”

satoru is quick to jump on her distraction train — enthusiastically nodding his head with silver locks flying about the place. “oh you know me, ma. i love a sweet lil’ thing, got a huge sweet tooth.” satoru chirps excitedly — as chipper as can be.

“that you do dear boy, pick out anything you’d like.” your dad says in turn.

the silver haired stray at your table pretends to ponder before clapping his hands together — causing both you and geto to jerk at the sound.

“daifuku!”

“oh, that’s been a recent favourite of our little girl’s, hasn't it darling?” mum gushes proudly. “reminds me so much of her.”

the anxiety in the back of your mind spikes to an all time high as your dragged into the conversation once more — suguru hot on your trail, close to uncovering it all. you shrink under the burning gazes of everyone at the table — your lover, your parents and your brother. satoru, of course, takes amusement in knowing you crave his favourite sweet even when you’re apart. geto is less than impressed.

you nod and gojo lets out a laugh that sets your soul alight and sends a shiver down your spine. “that’s right, our girl is just the sweetest little thing.” he praises you, resting his cheek on a closed fist, gojo’s elbow sitting comfortably on the table while he stares over at you dreamily.

suguru geto was not a fool.

he could see right through the happenings before his very eyes. the way you looked up at satoru, your expression docile and pure, dark eyes glimmering and brimming with so much idolisation and worship for satoru, it was a look suguru had seen many times before. it was a look previously saved only for him — from little sister to older brother.

you stare up at gojo like he holds all of the world’s secrets, like he could keep you safe from any and all types of harm, like you love him.

“i’ll have what he’s having,” geto hears you murmuring airily, but there’s static ringing in his ears and red flashing before his eyes — he’s that pissed off at his sudden realisation.

it’s only when his gaze flits to his best friend, his one and only, satoru gojo that the dam breaks and all of suguru’s emotions and epiphanies from the night come bursting out in shades of white hot fury. because satoru matches your expression, his blue ocean eyes drown you in love and he looks as though he’s won the fucking lottery. hazily and smugly grinning at you while the table discusses desserts.

the final puzzle piece that suguru has been looking for clicks into place.

it all hits him like a truck.

“oh you slick motherfucker…” suguru growls slowly, his words fighting through their prison of his gritted pearly white teeth. the syllables and their sound contrast heavily with the abrupt way in which your darker haired sibling stands from his chair — almost sending it flying to the floor as he slams a fist down onto the table. his other hand points accusingly towards your lover, and everyone’s attention falls on him.

“suguru what are you—?”

“you fucked her. didn’t you?”

expressions of incredulousness morph on the faces of your dinner guests ( yourself included ), shocked by geto’s bellowing voice and stone cold glare. not to mention the callousness of his words. he knows. and it’s like you’ve been doused in a bucket of ice water. he knows what you and satoru have been up to, the smoke has cleared and you can no longer hide from him.

“suguru geto, mind your manners!” one of your parents snaps, but you can’t quite place the voice — every sound in the restaurant blurs into one and your head swims with a dangerous mix of panic and alcohol. he knows. your mind screams, the pink and squishy organ dully thumping against it’s calcium cage — your skull.

“fuck manners,” he barks, suguru’s mouth beginning to froth like a dog rabid with rabies. his face hardens as if it’s been set in stone, while a storm clouds geto’s previously welcoming eyes. “answer my question, satoru.”

innocently, yet with an air of confidence and patronisation, gojo tilts his head to the side like that of a puppy — his bright white teeth put on display as he smiles slow and softly as if to diffuse the situation with his charm. “i don’t know what you’re talking about—“

“bullshit!” suguru fires back, his wrath beginning to boil over the edge like the restaurant’s signature slow cooked stew. he begins to roll up the white sleeves of his dress shirt — as if he’s preparing for a fight. one with his best friend. once the material is snug around the bulge in his bicep, your brother slams his hands down on the table once again, causing heads to turn and cutlery to clatter about the place. “that’s fucking bullshit satoru and you know it. i can see it on you. i can smell it on you.”

in all your years of living with the geto family, becoming a part of it and finding your sense of belonging with them — you’ve never seen your brother this angry, let alone see such red hot rage directed at someone he cares about. someone you care about too.

“sugu,” you whimper and stand, trying to direct his attention away from your lover boy. “suguru it’s okay. it’s not what it looks like—!”

another slam of his hands on the table slices through your meek words — causing you to jump out of your skin.

swirling black eyes hideous with anger and upset switch their attention to you — tearing you apart underneath their judgemental gaze. suguru has never looked at you like that. he’s always been so good to you, never been mad at you without cause or at least let you seen so. that was until today.

“i wasn’t fucking talking to you. sit down and keep quiet. let your big brother handle this.” geto spits, the pain of his worded venom shooting painfully to your heart — causing tears to sting at your waterline.

“don’t fucking talk to her like that.” satoru keeps his voice low, in a tone you’ve only ever heard him use with the guys hitting on you at college. it’s dark and threatening, but most of all, protective. protective over you. you never thought it would be thrown at suguru. he stands up too while you sink back down, catching a glimpse of your parents’ worried stares from across the table.

onlookers in the restaurant are no different.

“so, you think you can speak for her now? since when did you two get so close, hm? did you two fuck? did i hit a sore spot, gojo? ” a rich, sarcastic laugh reverberates from geto’s vocal chords. the whole scenario is…entertaining to him. his best friend, his brother of all people, fucking with his little sister — knowing how it would make him feel.

there’s a beat of silence across the dinner table, consisting of nothing but death glares and heaving chests.

but then all of a sudden, satoru leans forward with his palms pressed flat against the table’s surface — a sick smile twisting on his ever-soft and glossy pink lips as he jeers back at the younger male, taunting suguru.

“oh i’ve been hitting her spots alright.”

you feel like you’ve been doused in cold once again, the blood that had been flushing to your face, now freezing in your veins. the fact that satoru would reveal intimate details of your love or sex life to the light of day (let alone your older brother) should make you fall ill. yet, in some sick and twisted way it makes butterflies flap their dainty wings in your lower tummy.

because he’s admitting it, that he wants to be with you, to suguru’s face.

“we’ve been closer than you could have ever imagined, suguru. nice and close, she outta have been swallowing me down.” satoru doubles down, because once he starts running his mouth, he can never stop.

stopping them both now would be futile. but your parents are watching, other guests and staff are watching. it’s humiliating. having the two men you care about most go at each other like this. “satoru!” you squeal, desperate.

“oh you nasty motherfucker. so you did sleep with my sister.” geto growls before turning to you, furious. “how long? and don’t you dare lie to me.”

“s-sugu, please. not here.” you start with a trembling voice, tears slipping down your cheeks freely while you look between the two men.

“i said how long!”

the way your brother raises his voice at you causes you to flinch back into your shell and for satoru to push his way between you both protectively. he would never let you get hurt, he had promised you that. even if he had done so himself. he wasn’t about to let suguru wound you too.

“y’got cotton between your ears or something, suguru?” satoru makes himself tall and intimidating, towering over suguru. it was something that worked with everyone, scared them off from the person that was his and the one that he loved — you. but suguru wasn’t buying that act. “i said. stop. fucking. talking to her like that.” each of his menacing words are punctuated by a shove to your brother’s chest, each one taking a swing at your heart. you hate to see them hurting each other, you hate being in the middle of it all. suguru takes it all, as if he’s numb from the news, staggering back into another family’s table — causing their glasses and dishes to collide and clatter about until it stops and gojo grabs at the collar of geto’s shirt. “if you’re gonna be mad and yell at someone, be mad at me.”

satoru adjusts his grip on your brother, but his blue eyes beg for him to let it go. for you to all go home and figure this out somewhere else.

suguru just can’t. his mind can’t wrap around the idea that you’ve been leaning on someone else this whole time — using someone else. sleeping with his best friend all this time. it’s not in his nature to be violent, geto has been perfect all his life and never veered from the correct path. he would never hit anyone. he’s never felt the urge to put his hands on someone, unlike satoru. but in that moment, looking at his best friend and feeling the blood pour from the open wound in his chest.

exasperated by the stab wound to the back, from both you and satoru.

“you’re right,” the words taste like acid on suguru’s tongue as he grasps at gojo’s own collar with his green hand. never in a million years did he picture himself hating someone he loved with his whole heart. it physically pains him to even think about resenting you. it makes his vision shake and bleed with a dark red, he feels so irrevocably angry that he might hurt someone. “it’s you i should be pissed with.”

geto moves without thinking, every fibre of his being reverting back to man’s natural instinct as his fist connects harshly with the underside of gojo’s chin. the taller of the two stumbles back in shock — thick and temperate scarlet coating his pearly white teeth from where he’s bitten down on his tongue along with the force. satoru barely has time to react not before suguru is on him again; landing another punch square in his face — accompanied by a sickening crack.

your brother grabs at your lover, shaking him by the lapels of his now bloodied suit and you scream loud enough to lower the temperature of the dining hall and fill it with chills because suguru has always told you to look away from violence. and this time you couldn’t.

you couldn’t bare to look away from those beautiful blue eyes as they took a hit for you.

satoru sways backwards and forwards, clearly stunned at the force behind his best friend’s fists. he damn near collapses into the table behind him, causing the onlookers to yelp and cry out at his injured state. he’s got a busted lip, bruised cheeks and nose and he’s still the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

“fuck, suguru!” gojo’s voice wobbles, he sounds wounded. both inside and out. “what the fuck?” eventually, he grounds himself, tongue darting out to lick the patch of crimson at the corner of his lip. he swipes his bloody nose on the back of his hand too — steeling his already hard, azure eyes.

“you deserved it. pulling this shit with my sister? are you fucking insane? you could have had anyone else—“ suguru cracks his knuckles, shaking them out.

you feel as though you’re in the middle of a battle — one for your honour. words that leave battle scars are thrown from both gojo and geto on each side, swords of male ego clash at the centre and you’re nothing but a defenceless damsel in distress. what could you possibly do against the both of them? you think to throw yourself in between the two men as gojo stalks his way over to your brother in three scarily short strides…but your mother quickly wraps her arms around your shoulders and hugs you to her chest — keeping you away from the fight.

your father takes a stance in front of you both — he would interfere, but he’s not as young and as agile as he used to be. he’d get his teeth knocked in if he did.

“stop it! p-please! satoru don’t—!” you screech and wail to him over the commotion of the gathering crowds. he ignores your calls, acting on his free will as satoru’s throws his own punch — another scream tears through the chamber of your chest just from witnessing suguru’s head snap to the side from its power. “suguru!”

“fuck. you, gojo.” your brother slurs, wiping his own bleeding nose on the sleeve of his white shirt.

“fuck you right back, geto.”

you did this. you caused this. if you had just heeded your brother’s advice, he wouldn’t be losing a friend. you wouldn’t be losing someone you loved. you should have stayed away, you should have—

“i should have never trusted you!” comes your brother’s vicious snarl, somehow managing to squirm free of satoru’s grip and using the last of his strength to push the silver haired male to the smooth marble.

satoru doesn’t move, just barely managing to protect his head from the fall. he’s still bleeding, light headed but powered by his desire to protect you. kill for you. “i know! but we couldn’t help it! it just happened!”

suguru turns to you. “did he take advantage of you? ever? how long has this been a thing?”

“n-no! never! s-satoru would never!” you gulp back a choked sob, hoping to put an end to the madness. stop the shattered glass and the people staring and the punches being thrown. you’re a terrible liar, geto knows that. he can see right through your thinly veiled lies — satoru isn’t the type to just want someone. it comes with a price, the pieces of your heart worth more than gold to your brother. of course… at first it had been that way, satoru took what he wanted. but nowadays it feels different. feels like more.

“t-two years. it was…it was all me. i-im the one who said i liked him first. i always have.” you continue slowly, hoping for the smallest twinkle of mercy in geto’s eyes. “please sugu…please. this… this is enough. just leave him alone. i’ll never talk to him again just…stop.”

throughout your whole speech, tears and all, suguru remains towering over your boyfriend with both of their chests heaving, both of their shirts ripped and bloody. you think, for a moment, he might leave it at that — suguru will take your hand, lead you out of the restaurant and that’ll be it. satoru will be spared and you’ll have sacrificed your feelings for him to save their friendship.

however, the tears that drip down the apples if your cheeks and streak through your makeup aren’t enough. they’re not enough to provide a barrier to gojo’s selfishness — even at his lowest, quite literally (lying weakly underneath suguru), he still thinks he can have it all. both you and his friend.

“t-that shit’s not true. she was a game to me at first—“ he begins to say, causing hurt to flash across your chest and for you to fall to your knees despite being in your mother’s unsteady grip.

he doesn’t get to finish for geto takes the opportunity to straddle gojo — unleashing hit after hit on him like a meteor shower of pain. you don’t think he’ll stop until his knuckles are split.

“suguru! s-stop it!” you cry.

people scream just like you but don’t interfere. you don’t even care that they’re staring, you don’t care what they think, all you care about are their well-being.

to your relief, satoru finds an interval — latching onto his ‘ex’ best friend’s wrists with the last of his energy, effectively stopping him from landing anymore punches. “c-christ suguru, let me fucking finish,” satoru gargles on the blood pooling in his perfect, chatty mouth — using his grasp on suguru to push him into sitting on the floor too. “maybe if you did, you wouldn’t have missed this part,” the older of the two, gojo, spits the nasty mix of spit and blood at the younger’s feet — using a second to regain his breath. he spares a second to look at you, shaking on your knees desperate to touch him and see if he’s okay. you don’t know. you still don’t know just how much satoru gojo is willing to sacrifice for you. you have no idea how much he loves you. so he says it. profoundly and loudly.

“… missed the part where i fell in love with her. hard and fast. couldn’t even tell i was falling.”

geto slumps back on his knees, dropping his bruised and cut up knuckles between them with defeat. your entire body sags in relief, until you’re a mess of crumpled clothes, bones and tears.

he’s never told you that before. that he loves you.

“god, satoru…fuck!” suguru exclaims, clearly exasperated. his rage has simmered to a stop, with only angst and anguish filling the air in his lungs. he’s realised now what this means. he’ll never look at you or the satoru the same. the two people he loves most on this god forsaken earth. “she’s my little sister!”

he sounds like he’s about to cry.

“i know.”

“you watched her grow up! we grew up together!”

“i know.”

“you’re five years older than her!”

“i know, goddamn it!” satoru finally breaks the loop, his voice heavy with pain and exhaustion. “but i love her and i can’t help that. neither of us can.”

in the moment of silence that passes, where the audience calms down and suguru steps away from a bloody and beaten satoru — you rush to his side, sliding across the marble floor in your pretty dress to help your lover sit up properly. suguru looks down at you in desolation, his brows creased in the centre of his forehead unhappily. the expression makes you hug gojo’s head to your shoulder tightly in your own protective stance — crimson bleeding across blue fabric like ink in water, forming a hollow shade of purple.

“she’s my little sister…” geto repeats solemnly, as if he’s watching your child-like innocence fade away in real time. he’s been looking out for you for so long that he’s failed to see what an adult you’ve become. it doesn’t make the betrayal hurt any less, though. “she’s…she’s still a kid.” he adds, swallowing the lump in his throat. “and now you’re fucking her?”

satoru shakes his head, easing himself from your grip as though to show you that he’s strong. strong enough for the both of you. “it’s not like that, and she’s not a kid anymore. she’s twenty two, suguru! she doesn’t need you watching over her like some fucking hawk anymore. she can fuck me or whoever the fuck she wants.”

and even though satoru is right — you hate that they both talk about you as if you’re not even there or autonomous enough to defend yourself.

“but you know better.” geto goes on, his own defence becoming weaker and weaker — disintegrating like paper in water.

“we both do!” finally finding your voice, you stand up from your position on the floor cradling satoru and move to stand in front of your brother — grabbing his hands with pleading doe eyes and tears on your cheeks. “w-we’re both adults who made the mistake of getting involved with each other behind your back. but we don’t have to fight this out like children…please just give us a chance, sugu. talk to him. talk to me. y-your little sister…”

geto sags again, he looks tired, but accepts your affection without a trace of doubt or hatred. he thumbs the backs of your hands, dark obsidian eyes gazing into your soul like a galaxy of black holes. your deep chocolatey eyes are met with a stare full of trust and admiration — something familiar, something that fills you with temporary relief.

you like to think that you know suguru geto.

he’s the smartest and most rational man you’ve ever met. your brother has always been kind and tender, takes the time to really listen to people and think things through step by step. he never acts on instinct or brashness. those are all things you know about him.

you like to think that your older sibling knows you too.

that he would look at you and see your truth, how much you care for gojo and how you didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt.

clearly, neither of you know each other as well as you once thought.

he sees gojo from over your shoulder, and the same sense of white hot betrayal washes over the dark haired man like an acid bath. he rips his hands away from yours as if he’s touched molten lava and you’ve scalded the palms of his hands in which he used to love you, care for you and raise you.

a pained sound gargles in your throat as geto pulls away from you — his own mature, handsome face, equally as distraught. “i can’t,” he mumbles quietly. “not right now. i’m sorry.” his warmth is gone before you know it and he’s grabbing his belongings from your dinner table, bowing in apology to guests and staff and your parents.

“suguru!” you gasp, tears stinging at your eyes once again. “suguru wait!”

geto presses his thick, black leather wallet to your mother’s chest as he passes your parents, his suit coat half slung over his shoulder. “use the black card to cover the bill for dinner and pay for the meals of the families who’s tables we destroyed. i’ll take care of any damages too — the owner was a client of mine.” he tells her softly, kissing her forehead.

“suguru— your sister!”

he doesn’t turn back as he pushes his way through the crowd in order to reach the exit. “she’s old enough to look after herself, right?”

“suguru please.”

you will yourself to chase after him, every cell in your body screaming at you to move while your heart and mind long for you to stay by satoru’s side.

you’re conflicted, you don’t know who to choose.

and maybe it’s satoru’s selfishness, maybe he’s the one to blame for the rift in yours and suguru’s relationship — because when he succumbs to the bleeding and the injuries, and someone aside from you screams for an ambulance, you can’t bring yourself to leave him.

like a bird in a cage, you’re trapped by satoru’s love.

or perhaps he was just taking advantage of your weak little heart like always.

being at home is supposed to bring you comfort, there’s nothing like it.

your home is like a safe, full of precious memories locked away with a key that only you possess. if you push through the door you’re met with a gust of nostalgia — the sounds of childlike laughter as undertones to scolding parental voices. as you drift down the halls there’s works of art made with crayola ink on the walls, and sometimes there’s tears in that one little spot at the top of your stairs.

spices from your favourite home cooked meal burning on the stove top usually waft throughout the place, calming you down and filling you with warmth. you can’t remember a time where the smells and aromatics of your home have failed to bring you back down to earth. they trigger waves of fondness and flashbulb memories of your father teaching you and suguru as siblings how to cook whenever your mother fell ill.

your home not only hosts heartfelt conversations between four people who love each other, but it speaks too. it would creak and groan and squeak with every step you took deeper inside, with each time you ran through it while being chased by your brother.

every single one of these moments, these sounds and scents they’re all part of a precious network that make up the foundation of your home. plaster made of love and bricks born from happiness, all glued together by layers of forgiveness in the form of concrete. it’s a house full of happiness, your home is. made by your parents, suguru and you.

but right now you feel as if the roof of your home has caved in.

you’ve been sitting outside of suguru’s bedroom for hours now. your pretty dress soaked in blood and your face in your own tears. you can hear him on the other side of the door — he’s talking to someone, no doubt looking for last minute flights or begging for one of his client’s private jets. and you’re terrified because if he leaves like this you might never speak to one another again.

you don’t want that, you can’t have that.

you wonder where he might go — if it’ll be some place you always planned to visit together when you were old enough. a trip abroad was something geto had promised you if you graduated. now here you were. graduated but without your big brother by your side. Paris, London, New York — all places you were meant to explore with your eldest sibling by your side.

though at this very moment, he was all the way on the other side of a door he had no intention of opening.

it’s like the entire world has collapsed and caved in on you — there’s a hole starting to form in your heart that only suguru can fill and until today, as he begins to pull away from you, you hadn’t realised how much space in your life he had occupied. you leaned heavily on your brother, he shielded you from experiences like this time and time again, and all you could do in return is fuck his best friend.

some grateful little sister you are.

your face burns with a fresh set of tears, hot at the centre and underneath the fat of your eye bags. you’re so dependent on him, you wonder how you’ll cope when you move cities and start a real life outside of the shelter your brother had worked so hard to build for you. the very idea makes your insides twist and stomach turn. you’re not even sure if geto will want to keep in touch with you once either of you are gone.

leaning against his door, you paw at your wet face — hoping and praying that he’ll hear you out. that he won’t leave you, because without suguru you have no one.

wait… that’s not true.

there’s still satoru. if he even wants you after all of this. if you even want him.

why is it that he chose this way to confess his love for you? why is it that he dragged you away from a family dinner to fuck you instead of just being honest? why was satoru so selfish?

he hurt you over and over again — left mental scars on you and treated them like open wounds, adding salt and citrus and whatever would sting just to make sure you kept on needing him and only him. he hurt you to make sure you loved him back and you’re sure he had no idea. there’s an underlying guilt coursing through the blood in your system — guilt in letting satoru take all of the blame for falling out with suguru. especially when he defended you against your brother’s switch up and acidic, toxic words. especially when he’s posted up in a hospital bed for his battle wounds — split lip, possible concussion, bruised eye sockets.

your white haired lover had tried to be brave for you when you’d left him at the hospital to come home and change. there was terror evident in each dark blue fleck in his baby blue eyes, anxiety wrapping around his heart at the idea of you just leaving him there. he thought you would be leaving him forever.

fuck. gojo was good to you, in so many bad ways. you wished that you’d never met him, that you’d never fallen for him either.

before your mind is fully able to slip away to your lover boy, the door to suguru’s bedroom clicks open softly — forcing you to scoot away from him so that he has room to step out. neither of you move — frozen in time like marble statues carved millennia ago. you look a mess and suguru looks like a clean slate. where your dress is blood and snot stained, your makeup smeared and eyes puffy — your older brother has been washed free of tonight’s grime, his cuts are plastered over and his knuckles bandaged. not a single dark, obsidian tendril of his hair is out of place either — perfectly tied back into his signature bun.

most importantly, there’s not a trace of bitterness on his face — almost as if the events of tonight never even happened.

as if you never ruined his friendship with gojo or ruined his perception of you — his little sister.

yet, there’s a glum sort of gleam to his dark eyes, he’s tired — he’s been thinking too hard, going through every step over and over again trying to piece together what he missed. why would you hide this from him? you hate how lost suguru looks. that you did this to him too.

he doesn’t want to fight, not with you. not after satoru.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper, shifting to sit on your knees in front of him — as if you’re about to bow for geto’s forgiveness. “i should have never… i didn’t mean to—“ you pick at stray pieces of skin by the bed of your nails, flailing for words as you slip under the surface of your painstaking emotions. “i’m…i’m…”

geto crouches down to your height, using one hand to wipe the tears from your big bambi eyes and another to tilt your chin up towards him gently. “sorry.” he finishes for you, flashing you his classic, loving smile. “it’s okay…just give me time.”

you nod shortly, your features twitching as you fight back the urge to cry again.

the older male clicks his tongue and shakes his head, the pad of his thumb swiping under your eyes gently. “oh no, none of that, don’t cry for me.” as always, suguru comforts you and tends to you like a flower in need of nurture. “i’m sorry too, little one.”

“a-are you leaving?”

“for a little while.”

your face crumples once again. “suguru—“ comes your childish huff as he stands — but before the elder geto can get very far, you latch onto his wrist in one last clingy attempt.

suguru shakes his head one more time, more vigorously as if he’s trying to get rid of his own tears — knowing that if he lets you continue and beg him to stay, he won’t have the chance he needs to heal. “i can’t. i need time,” your brother says firmly, almost as if he’s scolding you. “you can’t expect me to get over it just like that. it’s not fair.”

you’re fully aware of that, selfishly choosing to ignore the fact — just like satoru would. life isn’t fair, so you suppose this is life’s own way of punishing you for hurting your brother and causing him grief.

“sugu, please don’t go.”

“give me a few weeks, a few months even, and i’ll come back. i promise.” he sighs in response, practically begging you at this point. it kills him to leave his younger sibling just as much as it kills you to see him go. however, every time suguru lays his eyes upon you, all he feels is betrayal and loss. all he can see is his best friend’s hands ruining you. corrupting you. it almost makes suguru resent you, for taking a bite of an apple from the snake he’d warned you about. hating you is the last thing suguru wants. “i can do that for you because you’re my little sister. because i love you and deep down, you’re everything to me. but i just need to get over this first.”

it’s because you’re his little sister that he’s even able to look at you. if you were anyone else, if you were satoru, dinner would have been it.

“‘m sorry,” you whimper for the millionth time, in defeat, weakly allowing suguru to help you onto your feet. every fibre of your being tingles with the need to hug him, soothe him in the ways he would do for you — though you know better. that’s not what he needs right now. geto needs you to let him go.

“i know,” geto hums sadly. he tucks your braids behind your ear, thumbing your cheek affectionately “you should go to bed, it’s getting late.”

he presses a lingering kiss into the baby hairs on the crown of your head as he softly grips your arms — using them to rotate you both until his back is to the door and yours is to the looming hallway.

“goodnight,” you sniff meaningfully. a nostalgic feeling rushes over you, a sense of déjà vu — reminding you of the time when suguru first left for college.

suguru smiles again, disappearing into his room with a whispered. “goodnight, little one.”

and with that, he’s gone.

you only hope that he’ll make good on his promise, forgive you and come back.

because as the saying goes — if you love someone let them go.

and if they come back to you, then they’re yours.

after a hot shower, you find yourself taking heed of suguru’s advice and retreat back to the confines of your bedroom.

childlike walls covered in ugly green no longer make you laugh or provide you with an uplifting and evocative solace. instead, you feel more cold and alone, desperate to leave this life behind and move on to bigger and better things.

things that suguru had helped you to achieve.

while the scalding hot water had washed away any bloody stains from the night, any tears left on your cheeks — it did nothing to get rid of the slimy, gross feeling that you couldn’t seem to reach. it spread underneath the surface of your skin like wildfire through a forest, over each crack and crevice in your mind, slipped through the gaps in your rib cage to target your lungs like a respiratory attack. it was the shame, the guilt and the grief for someone you’d lost who was still alive. all three emotions plagued you.

once safely behind your own bedroom door, shutting out your feelings about the night (after only half of them had swirled down the drain), you rest against its wooden frame — watching the droplets that were clinging to your supple skin drop to the ground as if they were the tears you didn’t feel like crying anymore.

the towel around your exhausted frame drops to your ankles as you lethargically search your dresser for your favourite cocoa butter moisturiser. you work in silence, soothing the night’s wounds as you prepare for bed like your bother had said. you slip on a set of pyjamas, tie your braids back with silk scrunchies and just as you hit the lights — there’s a knock at your window.

you don’t move, waiting to see if it’s your imagination or your mind playing tricks on you again.

but then, there’s another dull thud and you whip around from your dresser to meet a pair of clear-sky blue eyes that catch light under the shining moon does enough to illuminate every curve and slope to his dainty features. gojo looks a little compared to when you left him in the hospital — whatever fluids they’ve given him have helped with the hollow, purple-ish dark circles under his eyes. a few cuts still litter the angelic curve to satoru’s face,

clutching the centre of your chest from under your sweatshirt (in an attempt to calm your beating heart) — you rush towards the source of the noise, tugging the latches of your window open. “satoru,” you breathe, your entire body going lax once you realise who it is.

“hey you,” he grins, holding onto the upper body panel of the window while he waits for your permission to come in. even though your room is dark, painted with tendrils of pitch black, the silvering moon does enough to highlight each cut or slash across his pretty face. “missed you.”

slowly, you reach out to touch him. a single fingertip slides across gojo’s sharp jaw, so sharp that it could cut diamonds, before you angle his head from side to side — inspecting the injuries that hardly do anything to dampen his beauty.

“can i come inside?” gojo asks cautiously. “it’s kinda cold out here.”

blinking, you snap out of your reverie and shift backwards on your bed to make space for satoru to come through. he crawls into your room quietly like he’s done many times before, sneaking over to see you during your breaks from university, and shuts the window behind him.

the both of you stand still in the dark, hardly able to see each other, hardly able to tell what the other is thinking. satoru wonders if you hate him, if this is it for you and he. should he touch you? would you let him?

and as for you, you’re stuck between a rock and hard place. your body, as always, calls for gojo — yearns to be near him as if you haven’t seen one another in a millennia. you know that he’s right there, you can hear his shallow and ragged breathing (probably from climbing up to your window) just centimetres away. he’s done so much to hurt you, ruin you… and yet you can’t seem to resist him or stay away from him when you know that you should.

“i figured you’d want this back, that’s why i came.” gojo mumbles, dangling the chain of your necklace in front of you. you reach out to take it and your boyfriend lets go, but the jewellery hits the ground and you ignore it’s metallic clatter.

“satoru gojo…” you whimper, instead, taking a step forward into the void — your hands touch on his tiny waist before travelling upwards over his creased button up shirt to settle at the silver haired man’s broad shoulders. he groans low at the feeling of your nails raking across them from over the fabric, reaching higher to scratch at his scalp through the baby hairs on his neck. even though satoru remains stiff and hesitant at first, it’s an intimate moment, you’re hardly able to see each other while being pressed so close together — desperate and longing. gojo finally relaxes and grabs the fat at your waist, pulling your hips flush against his own.

you stand on your tiptoes and use your grip on his hair to tug gojo down to your height — your lips a breath’s width away from each other. he’s so close that you can feel his breath coast along the seams of your lips.

“what have you done to me?” you finish, whispering.

god, satoru wishes that he knew. he has no idea himself, the kind of power and hold that he has over you. “i don’t fucking know,” he finds himself saying, meeting you the rest of the way as he leans down to capture your mouth in a messy, searing hot kiss. “i don’t wanna know. just let me kiss you.”

“mhm,” you all but whine in reply, wrapping your arms around satoru’s neck as he feverishly licks into the hot, wet cavern of your mouth. he feeds you his moans, one by one, pouring his apologies and unspoken words past your lips and into your soul. gojo can’t speak with your tongue in his mouth, he’s spent all night plagued by thoughts of you — wondering if he’d done the right thing by telling suguru, if he should have kept his mouth shut and his hands off you. if he should have done it properly.

he fucks everything up — especially the things that he loves. gojo wouldn’t be surprised if you were done with his bullshit now. he’d make the most of what you’re willing to give him for the moment.

your lips grow sticky with the layers of spit swapped between you and you can taste him on you. in your mouth, on your tongue. he tastes like cold peppermint and wisps of pink wine. he feels like heaven under your fingers, his hair soft like the feathers of god’s favourite angel. you inhale the hint of his aftershave from his clothes, let it drift over your mind as well. he’s toxic, bad for your lungs like a vape or the chemicals from something else addictive. perhaps you’re smelling gasoline, the kind that satoru uses to start a fire in your lower belly.

you shouldn’t be doing this, not again, not here, not with suguru across the hall about to leave you. but you can’t help it, satoru’s become your everything and you feel that you might not be able to live without him too. “satoru,” your arm shoots to wrap around his neck, hardly allowing the man to pull away from you and breathe. your movements are so fast that gojo stumbles and holds you tighter to catch his balance. though it might be because he’s afraid you’ll disappear. “satoru, satoru, satoru please…”

you’ve no idea what you’re even begging for, just chanting his name between bruising kisses, his tongue sloppily gliding over yours while he fights to pull away from your intoxicating lip locks. “don’t beg, baby,” he grunts hot and heavy, dragging a thumb over your swollen lips. “god, please don’t fuckin’ beg. you have no idea what it does to me.”

“but i need you,” closing your lips around the tip of his thumb, you suck gently and it causes satoru to grow weak in the knees — dizzy from the sensation. “and i love you…”

“fuck, i—“ gojo swallows thickly, watching you like a hawk as you suck on him salaciously. “i’m right here…love you too. now jump for me, baby.” comes his loving command, pulling the digit from the prison of your hot mouth. if he could, he’d take a life sentence to stay between your lips.

following gojo’s lead, you leap upwards into his hold — allowing satoru to grope at your fleshy ass as he hoists you up. a pathetic bleat escapes his saliva laden lips when your thighs wrap securely around his waist, pussy slotting against satoru’s crotch while he carries you to sit on your dresser.

after setting you down, satoru places a palm on the mirror above your head, steadying himself as lust and love for you and only you overwhelms him until he’s nothing but a shaky mess. a man that could be brought to his knees with just one look from you. his head drops to your neck, breath balmy against the surface of your skin, long white lashes tickling you there too.

he grows enchanted by your steady pulse, pulled in my each of your little whimpers. a mop of silver hair descends upon your flesh, the taste buds on satoru’s pink, eager tongue mapping out your taste to commit to memory. he wants to remember your flavour forever — treating this as if it’s the last time he’ll ever touch you.

“you…you asked me what it is that i’ve done to you. ‘n i told you that i… fuck, that i didn’t know,” gojo pants, a rosy blush spreading across the bridge of his nose and cheeks. one “but i can tell you exactly what it is that you do to me...” your lover looks down at you like a man drunk or high, facing an addiction he won’t be able to quit. it does something to you, drags crazed sex hormones from your brain right down to your pulsating clit.

the temperature in the room rises, boiling and bubbling — the particles in the air teaming with so much desire, buzzing around with an equal amount of kinetic energy. “you’ve ruined me,” he mumbles wistfully, a man charmed. gojo leaves a wet trail over your pulse point, slowly sinking his teeth into the area. there’s a gentleness to the way that he leaves his mark on you — panting like a wet dog as he does so. “you make me want to take care of you. you’ve got me so fucked up that i can’t tell what’s up or down….” he moans into the sweltering ambience of the room.

satoru forces himself against you and you gasp, head hitting the mirror because you can feel how hard he is against the crotch of your night shorts. “i want to be your everything,” his selfish tendencies seep through into his actions, love bites gojo works against your neck become more prominent and harsher — as if to get his point across or through your head. he wants you to know how much he wants you. “just like i know that i’m yours.”

it’s true. he is.

the very phrase make your hips buck up into his, a wave of slick pooling between your folds as they catch on the print of gojo’s dick. “f-fuck…” the tail end of your words end in a lost whine, too turned on by gojo’s desperation for you. only you.

“i love you,” he whispers, voice silky smooth while continuing to ravish your neck and collar bones with shades of deep purple and blue. gojo’s large hands sneak down to your waistband to pull your shorts off and on instinct, you do the same — a nagging craving for more of him taking over you once again. “like no one before. dunno why i didn’t say it earlier, don’t know why i didn’t wanna show you off.”

satoru tugs your panties to one side, wedging them behind your swollen pussy lips and exposing your quivering mound to the night air. even though the room is dark, he can still see the glisten of your arousal and whines wildly from deep within his chest at the sight — urging you to yank down his boxers too.

circling your hips up to meet his, the both of you hiss in unison as your leaky, sopping sexes come into contact for the second time that night. it feels right. just having the length of gojo’s heavy shaft nestled between your sticky folds — it’s natural, as if you’re made for one another despite fate not wanting you to be together. his tip spurts early traces of precum against your slit in another form of marking, hot and creamy against you while the scent of sex begins to waft through the air.

it’ll never matter how much you try to resist satoru, for as long as he’s around, you’ll fall into this twisted little routine — a repeat offence of betraying your brother. your nails come up to dig crescent moons into his milky toned and strong arms, gritting your teeth at the pleasure beginning to wash over and drown you. “s-shit baby—“ gojo mewls through a pout, finally giving up on biting and sucking at your neck to rest his sweaty forehead against your own. “just wanna be good to you…wanna be enough for you. p-promise i’ll give my everything just t’be the one takin’ care of you.”

satoru slurs his words but the very promise sounds like a dream for you. it’ll be everything you’ve ever wanted out of the man, all you’ve ever asked for in all these two years of fucking around. to be equals, to be his partner for the world to see. although, a tiny seed of doubt begins to sprout in the back of your mind — you’re not even sure if it’s true, if satoru’s just making empty promises to get you like this, to manipulate you into staying after messing everything up with your brother.

could he take care of you like suguru did? could you trust him to do that?

your jaw goes slack as gojo drags his hips back and forth, back and forth, the pretty blue veins wrapped around his cock running over your clit — stimulating you into a weakened stupor. milky droplets of pre glaze the length of your dripping cunt, satoru rubbing it in the more he grinds into you.

the dance of your bodies is toxic and never ending, the way you rock into each other in perfect harmony causing your dresser to delicately thud against your bedroom walls. “d-do you promise, ‘toru?” you gasp, biting down on your lower lip hard enough to draw blood, as though to stop yourself from crying out loud from the electric current of pleasure he gives you. “y-you have to promise me.”

silvery white brows knit together in the centre of satoru’s forehead, making him look pathetic. his hand forces it’s way between both of your tight and tangled limbs to grab hold of his bright red an, bulbous cockhead and circle it against your pulsating clit — dragging it up and down until it grazes your hole.

he damn near chokes on a glob of spit when you unconsciously clench around him — a loud simper bubbling up on the edge of his pretty pink lips. you’re quick to lean forward, practically slamming a hand over satoru’s eager mouth to keep him quiet.

“p-promise me.” you repeat wetly, panting out the syllables as his dick slots perfectly against your wetness — both of you move with vigour and hushed whimpers and moans, satoru chasing after your soused sex like a hungry animal. you feel like you’re going fucking insane beneath him, watching as his tie to sanity starts to dissolve into thin air just from the way your pissy drips all over him with treacle-like juices.

no one on this earth could make satoru gojo give this up. give you up. not your parents, not his, not your brother. he’d rather die than let another person have you in the way that he does right now, where you rut your hips into his in one fluid motion. even if his heart breaks and his muscles ache — he can’t…he won’t stop giving you his all, won’t stop making you see fucking stars.

a pressure begins to build just above your pelvis — brought forth by gojo bullying your pleasure nub with his sopping dick. it’s obvious how close you’re getting, your puckered hole gushing all over him and clenching on nothing. but it’s not like the man above you is in a better state — you’ve wrecked gojo, sent the man to high heavens and brought him back down to earth all at once. you’ve shown satoru that he’s worthy of being loved, that he’s capable of doing the same. the realisation only adds to the intensity of your sinful movements underneath the watchful eye of the moon.

tears spring to his brilliant blue eyes, another clamorous sob breaking free from your hands over his mouth — making you clasp him tighter. everything is so intense and emotional, pleasure mounting like bricks for both of you. you’re shaky in one another’s hold, sticky against each other while your arousals lube everything up and make the whole ordeal wetter. it really does feel like a crescendo, the highest point of an orchestra’s song — where your bodies are the instruments played by one another.

“satoru,” you repeat his name, warning him, begging him to focus through the thick fog of love, lust and desire clouding his brain.

“i-i—“ gojo chokes down his feelings, slamming his other hand on the dresser behind you to trap you in underneath him — his hips never let up, however, roughly snapping into yours. “i promise. i promise, baby — always will, fuckin’ swear it.” he mumbles under his breath against the palm of your hand.

and that’s all either of you need to hear for the dam to break.

gojo’s rhythm falters, his hips stuttering as he succumbs to you and he hits his high. he lets out a cry of your name so genuine it pulls at your heart strings and you slip under the surface of ecstasy’s ocean — letting it fill your lungs as you cum too. you screw your eyes shut with the white light that blinds you through your orgasm — afraid of what may lie on the other side of this world-ending sensation. you don’t want the reality that awaits you. you don’t want to have to wake up from this little dream you’ve created with satoru.

speaking of, the white haired man collapses over you in a fit of shakes and shivers — ropes of his white seed coating your aching mound. there’s so much for it, all caused by and for you. he doesn’t stop rutting into you, even though it’s sensitive, but wraps his arms around your head just to comfort you through it. hugging you to him while you both come down.

he’s good to you, so good in this moment, but you have no idea if this will translate past tonight.

“can i fuck you?” he asks through ragged breathing. “just a little bit, won’t be long. just wanna make you feel good again, you’re so pretty when you’re moaning and feeling so fucking good on my cock.”

you wince with overstimulation as satoru starts to rub his shaft against you all over again, working it up to another ripe and pulsating erection just for you. earlier, you had wished the night would last a little longer, so you could love him a little harder and here satoru gojo was — making all but one of your dreams come true. “h-hurry,” you whinge into his shoulder, your teeth sinking into the milky flesh as though to keep yourself quiet. “don’t make me wait.”

“never baby, you’re too pretty for me to be patient,” in one fail swoop, satoru nudges his tip inside of you — instantly filling you to the brim with sticky, sloppy cock and drawing a needy gasp from you. “yanno, you’re so cute when you take my dick, such a beautiful baby. no one compares to you.”

you know that he might just be running his mouth to fuck you sweet again, telling you all of the things you want to hear — but you can’t help but want gojo closer and wrap your legs around his waist, using the heels of your feet to push him closer to the point where his cum-covered cockhead is brushing against your womb.

with fluttering eyelashes, your mouth falls into an ‘o’ shape and a silent mewl escapes you — it doesn’t take long for your partner to fall into the perfect pace, fuelled by his desire to make you both cum again and his need to chase the stinging, delicious pain he gets from chasing overstimulation. “d-did you get tighter baby? you’re fuckin’ choking me out here,” satoru grunts against your sweaty hairline, ramming his hips into your clenching cunt that practically squirts a crude mix of your remaining orgasms. “you gonna milk me? make me fill you up again?”

“y-yes! please satoru…don’t stop!” you whine in harmony with his moans as they rise in pitch — higher and higher until they’re whistle tone, scratching tigers marks down his muscled back. the touch drives gojo insane, activating something primal in him to the point where you once again have to cover his mouth with wet kisses. if he didn’t love you, then the simple gesture wouldn’t cause him lose his tether to the real world fucking you like this.

if it was only a touch, why did it ruin him?

juices and thick waves of cum that had once coated your throbbing cunt now slosh over your dresser that dully thuds against your bedroom wall — over and over again the faster gojo’s hips pound into yours. the sound of skin on skin overwhelms all of your senses, you’re stimulated beyond belief and you’re crying from multiple places…it’s almost too much for your poor ravaged body to handle.

“i’ll n-never stop…fuuuck baby, as long as i’ve got you. ‘m never stoppin’…never stoppin’… n-never—“ your man chants, crying into your mouth and the hot lustful buzzing hair between you when grab his ass so that he can fuck you deeper. the slit at his cockhead is overloaded with viscous precum, smearing it along your inner and gushing ribbed walls — claiming your insides for the second time that night.

your hips run from the pleasure that you crave and that satoru gives to you — cross eyed and panting from above you like a wet dog. there’s no need for him to run from you though, you won’t let him, not when he needs to be loved by you. someone who cares for satoru gojo despite all of his mistakes.

a creamy ring begins to form at the base of satoru’s swelling cock, all white and frothy from where he’s been churning your guts up lovingly — pounding his earlier orgasm inside of you as if to make it stick. your clit grinds against his smooth pelvis, dragging you by the ankle to another world-altering orgasm and his balls slap wetly against the curve of your fleshy ass.

satoru adjusts your body against the dresser so that the curve of your spine rests on the table and he’s able to hike your legs over his shoulders so he can bully that one special spot only he can reach. your knees meet your chest, breasts bouncing beneath them from the force of the white haired man’s chest. “g-god, you’re…you’re fucking me too good,” you gargle, hands in his sweaty mass of silver hair as you tug gojo implausibly closer. “i wanna cum…are you there? c-can i cum, ‘toru?”

pressing his forehead to yours, satoru nods feverishly. “right behind you, baby. where do you want it?” there’s a fluid roll to your man’s hips, his cock dipping in and out of your fluttering entrance so fast and so good that you’re sure you’re about to lose consciousness. “how about inside? how ‘bout you lemme leave somethin’ with you?” clear, thick strings tie your clenching pussy to satoru’s cum glazed shaft — glistening under the night’s natural light. you can’t wait for there to be more of him inside you. “touch your clit for me baby, make yourself cum on my dick.”

you do as your told, fumbling between your salt-licked entangled limbs for the little nub between your swollen folds. immediately pressing down on it, you find yourself tightening around gojo while he grinds harshly against your g-spot and moans breathily against your Cupid’s bow since your foreheads are still pressed together.

“s-sa…satoru! ‘m…i’m cumming!” one look at him, completely destroyed by you, is all it takes to send you flying to cloud nine — your stomach lurches and your eyes roll back into the dark depths of your skull as you cum one more time for your lover. clear streams of your essence squirt steadily from your cunt, bathing satoru in your orgasm while you succumb to overstimulation.

his tummy and thighs are doused in your precious liquid as you quietly scream his name — all of these senses serve to trigger his own orgasm. “c’mon, that’s it little one. give it to me, i gotcha. want it all over me,” gojo smirks against your lips, peppering them with soft kisses while he wrecks and bullies your insides in an attempt to cum himself. “oooh, fuck. i love you, i love you, i love you.”

just like he promised, satoru gives you another hot load — failing to stop fucking you through either of your highs. he loses control of his hips, allowing them to languidly and uncoordinatedly rut into you — pushing his seed further up your silken walls until your cunt is covered in a layer of white. there’s so much of it that white drips his balls and inner thighs, as well as down to your puckered asshole. maybe it’s a little crude if him, but satoru’s lengthy fingers gather what you leak and smears it against your lips — kissing you there, sucking your mixed flavours from your eager mouth.

it’s only while you calm down from your orgasms that things start to change…drastically.

even as satoru kisses your hairline and whispers praises against it, rocking you back and forth as you twitch with the aftershocks of your orgasm — the fear comes rushing back.

the post-orgasmic clarity hits.

the tears start flowing once more and you realise that you’re so, so tired of it all.

yellow and artificial light from down the hall seeps through the gap underneath your door, accompanied by footsteps. you’ve no doubt that someone in your home is awake, maybe your mum going for her late night glass of water, your dad for the loo or maybe even suguru. for his flight. the light is glaring and illuminates your room — highlighting the night’s mistake. satoru.

when the footsteps recede and the light dims down, you let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding — your silent tears blooming into quiet hiccups that you have no control over. “h-hey,” he cups your face, wiping at your eyes just like your brother had done before shutting you out. “hey pretty girl, what’s the matter? did i hurt you? was that too much—?”

slicing through gojo’s words, you find the strength to speak even if it hurts to reveal the truth. it’s like ripping off a bandaid, “how do i know that you really mean all this? that you’re going to keep your promise, ‘toru?”

“w-what?”

“i can’t do this!” you snap as loudly as your voice will allow you to. you don’t want to wake anyone else up nor get caught by your brother with your pants down for the man who betrayed his trust. not to mention, nearly getting him to hate you. “you promised to take care of me. just like suguru would, while we were basically having sex — how am i supposed to trust that?” it sounds crazy coming from your mouth, doubting satoru even after the intimate moments that you’ve just shared. however, you’ve been around this block with him too many times, you know the signs off by heart, you’ve memorised the cracks in his resolve as if they’re those in the pavement. the ones people tell you not to step on to avoid bad luck.

you feel unlucky, you feel played and naive. you saw all the warnings and wilfully ignored them because you liked the way satoru loved before he knew the weight of the word. “how am i supposed to trust you?” you add, voice wavering.

satoru can’t seem to find an excuse — maybe because his brain is too fucked out or maybe because he’s shocked that you’re not just blindly trusting him anymore. he always thought things would be easy with you, that this nightmare would be over quick… and you’d take him back just like that. perhaps the dinner was your wake up call. “i don’t… i don’t know, i just…” he selfishly expects you to believe him. “you know me. you love me and i love you, can’t that be enough?”

“you’ve never given me enough, satoru! it’s only now that you’re realising you want me as more than just your… your plaything! when i’m all you have left and suguru is gone with the wind!” you want to push him away but satoru is rooted in front of you, his presence sturdy unlike before. “you say that you love me, and i think i believe it…but it’s so hard to trust you. to not think that this is just an impulse.”

“i’d wanna be with you even if suguru stayed, i always do. it kills me to be away from you!” satoru fires back, scrambling for something…anything that’ll make you see just how badly he means it when he says he loves you and wants you. that it’s not because he’s afraid of being alone. “i fucked this up, with you and with suguru. but i’ve known for a long time that i’ve wanted you, needed you to be mine and more than just a fling!”

you look away, face twisting with pain. “i…i don’t believe that.”

“then let me prove it,” the words rush right out of gojo’s mouth, faster than his brain can catch up — his anxiety spiking at the thought of you abandoning what you have together. abandoning him. “move in with me, come with me. i’ll get us a place in the city where your new job is, i’ll get my dad to transfer me to a closer branch of Gojo Corp… just let me show you how much i want to make this work — even if it means losing suguru.”

satoru grabs your chin and tilts your gaze back over to him — but you can’t even look him in the eye.

instead, your face burns, hot as your vision swims with another wave of tears. “i need your honesty, satoru. no more empty promises, no more false hopes.” he can see it in you now, how exhausted you are with the game of cat and mouse you’ve been playing all this time. you just want to be loved without constraint and satoru comes with so much baggage he’ll only weigh you down when you try to fly from the nest. it wouldn’t be fair. “i need you to choose. would you really give it all up for me? your reputation, your lifestyle, your best friend?”

satoru’s wants to be selfish, desperately so. it’s all he’s ever known. taking and taking until his partner at the time is nothing but a husk of the person they once were. the difference this time is that he actually loves you, cares for you and would kill for you. he’s already taken so much from your youthful bright eyes.

he would hate to take your spark too.

so satoru gojo decides to weigh up his options.

either lose it all and keep you as his or lose you while the wounds he’s inflicted on everyone else heal.

if you love someone, then let them go. if they come back to you, they’re yours.

“then… then i’m sorry. for not being more honest. you’re right in every sense of the word…i can’t give this up,” gojo says simply, watching the light and hope in your eyes die out. “i think it’s best if we end it here and i let you go.”

so reddit, AITA?

UPDATE - AITA (27M) FOR FUCKING MY BEST FRIEND'S (26M) LITTLE SISTER (22F)? hey reddit. long time no see, i got a lot of attention on this post and undoubtedly you all decided that i was the asshole. i’ve done some work on myself and now i see that i was 100% in the wrong. i’ll spare you the boring details, because i know that’s not what you’re here for. i didn't want to leave anyone hanging, so here’s a quick update on where the three of us are at, one year later. i’ll start by saying — we broke up. i made the call so now she’s seeing someone else, and it’s serious.

in another lifetime, satoru would have chosen to be with you.

he’s certain that in another wonderfully weird and wacky universe — nothing would have stopped you from being that happy couple you wanted to be so badly. suguru might have even accepted your relationship, or maybe he would have died and his final wish would have been for the white haired man to make you happy.

that is something satoru will never know. the idea comforts him whenever he’s left alone with his thoughts for a little too long.

however, this isn’t another lifetime. this isn’t a different universe. this is the reality where satoru gojo had broken up with you right after your graduation.

he did it so that he wouldn’t come off as selfish — so that you had a chance to fix things with his ex best friend (and your brother) before it was too late. it was the least he could do after taking advantage of you, corrupting you against all of suguru’s wishes — but that didn’t make gojo any better of a man nor a knight in shining armour. he was still a shifty guy.

still selfish, though, the decision was made with satoru still in mind.

the night he’d broken up with you obviously ended in tears. to you, it was the end of your life — losing your first love, and you couldn’t even be blamed. you were only twenty two, your reaction was justified. suguru had been right in that sense, you were innocent and your heart needed to be protected, satoru had definitely taken advantage of that.

you were kind enough to let your then ex stay the night — as long as he was back in the hospital and gone by the morning. satoru never knew what transpired the next day, as you were quick to block him on everything, and you had every right.

he made his choice and his bed, now he had to lie in it too.

geto did leave, gojo knows that much, having seen his best friend take up work at a law firm in the US. geto had since been low contact with him. as did the rest of your family. again, it was for the best — even if it did hurt and cause gojo to bury himself within his father’s company, working himself to the bone every day just as a distraction.

through the grapevine of CEOs and higher ups, satoru learns that you’ve followed in your brother’s footsteps and made your way over to the land of the free. the magazine you worked for, Heavenly Pact, was getting ready to start an american edition and word had travelled that you were going to be the head of their new office on that side of the pond. gojo was proud, excited for you — you were excelling in your career all on your own, he was glad that he hadn’t ruined that for you too.

being in the states from time to time, satoru often wondered if there would ever be a time where he ran into you. would you be happy to see him? would you even want to talk? what would he even say?

‘i’m sorry for fucking you for fun and fumbling the bag — almost destroying your relationship with your brother when i caught feelings’ wouldn’t exactly fly well with you, he was sure.

it didn’t end up mattering anyways, because when gojo does eventually bump into you during business hours — he almost doesn’t recognise you. he’s in New York for some big, fancy corporate meeting about mergers and acquisitions, whatever his father had put into the file gojo was skim reading on his phone at the last minute, right before making his way up to the conference room.

the elevator taking him there stood about six floors shy of satoru’s destination and a young woman enters like a hurricane — bringing with her a whirlwind of paperwork and notebooks. “i-i’m sorry.” the young woman stutters from behind her pile of belongings, out of breath from seemingly running for the elevator. “could you press the button for my floor? i would do it myself, but…”

there’s a strain in her voice that makes gojo chuckle to himself, reaching past her so that his fingertips brush over the cool and luminous buttons for each floor. “are you going up?”

“down actually… you?”

“up ‘m afraid, but headed to the top floor. so this elevator’s probably going to head straight down to wherever you need to be afterwards.” he offers up apologetically. he swears the tonation to her voice sounds familiar, it’s soft and sugarcoated notes stirring up a warm feeling in gojo’s tummy.

“that’s fine by me, i’m running ahead of schedule anyway. floor eleven for me, please.”

gojo does as he’s told, pressing the button for the eleventh floor — he has to reach past the woman in order to do so. his vigilant blue eyes catch a glimpse of the fashion photography stacked in her arms amongst sketches and other designs while the scent of her perfume strikes a dizzying recognition within the white haired man. undertones of vanilla with subtle floral scents make gojo’s stomach turn and light bulb memories of those precious two years flash behind tired cerulean eyes.

he knows you, he thinks, all too well.

he says your name under his breath as though he’s keeping a secret and you freeze — no longer sorting through the papers flying about the place. when you look up and your eyes meet, you feel like the world has stopped spinning and that it’s just the two of you, frozen in time.

“satoru,” you breathe and quite plainly, as if you’re holding back any emotion you feel towards your ex…but then you smile, and it’s so vibrant satoru feels like he might go blind. not a trace of resentment in those big, beautiful brown eyes. “it’s been a while.”

you’ve changed a lot in only a year. while your face still holds its youthful innocence, except your eyes reflect growth and maturity — perhaps a little bit of exhaustion from how hard you’ve been working on your new job. you’re still as beautiful as the day gojo left you, but perhaps even more so. your light glows instead of dulls, most likely because you’re free. he’s no longer holding you back with a jail sentence of his selfishness. you’ve been able to live your life properly, just as someone your age should.

it would be wrong for him to interfere with your newfound happiness.

turning on his heel, satoru faces forward and avoids your gaze — continually repeating the mantra ‘she’d be better off without you.’ to stop himself from reaching out and touching you like he so desperately wants to. he misses you, that much is a fact, but that doesn’t mean he no longer craves to be with you, breathe you in, be by our side.

satoru had let you go three-hundred and sixty-five days ago with the hopes of you coming back to him.

maybe this was it.

you don’t take kindly to being ignored, leaning forward with your papers and files tucked securely against your chest in order to garner his attention. satoru adjusts his dress shirt, plays with his cuffs, inspects his surroundings — anything to avoid you and make a fool out of himself. or worse, mess everything up for you. his therapist had called his previous and past behaviours a self-destructive tornado — destroying everything in its path without regard.

he couldn’t go back to that.

“gojo, don’t pretend like i don’t exist,” you pout in annoyance — reminding your ex all too much of the times you spent together at your dorms. “i see you and you see me. we’re adults, surely you can handle a conversation.” it’s your teasing tone that finally makes gojo cave, sparing you a starry, blue eyed glance.

he can’t help the cocky chuckle that escapes him, almost slipping back into his old and familiar ways with you. “you wanna talk to me that bad, huh? did you miss me or somethin’?” it’s a condescending and patronising thing to say — almost as if he’s treating you like a child.

that makes you stand up right, heat rising to your cheeks at the familiar feeling — you’re not mad though. “i see you’re still as full of yourself as ever.”

it’s satoru’s turn to pout this time, shifting his focus to a corner of the rising elevator . “h-hey! i’m working on it!” you’ve never seen him so nervous, not in your entire life of knowing him…but you suppose a lot can change in a year. you’re sure he’s different, just like you are. “yanno…therapy ‘n stuff. it helps. helped.”

“oh yeah?” you hum curiously, knowing that he’s making reference to your break up, losing suguru. you don’t dare to press further, though. “me too.” the pair of you fall silent for a moment, sitting with the unaddressed awkwardness, the tension and unresolved feelings. “how…how are you? how’s things?”

he’s surprised that you’ve even asked, let alone want to talk to him after everything he’d put you through. it’s weird but also clear that you’d been working on healing too — what’s a conversation between two adults then? “good,” satoru starts, though he’s being far from honest. he misses you. “i’ve been working to finally take over dad’s company. old man’s retiring, so i thought i’d play my part and be responsible for once.”

you grin warmly at the news. “it sounds like you’re doing well, toru.” he nearly jumps at the familiar nickname, choosing not to respond. “not that you asked, but i’m kind of in the same boat? they’re putting me at a deputy manager’s position for my magazine’s new branch. i’m excited.”

“i’ve heard,” the words rush from satoru’s mouth before he can stop them, feeling sheepish as you raise a brow at him. “not that i’ve been stalking you or anything! you hear things when you’re at the top!”

“yeah, sure.” you tease, enjoying watching gojo squirm.

a question he’s not sure he’s allowed to ask sits on the tip of his tongue and satoru pushes it around in his mouth hesitantly. “how…how’s suguru?”

you perk up, tentatively choosing what to say next. “o-oh…he’s good? we’re…our relationship is better now. it took a lot of work, but he’s healthy and happy. i… i think he misses you sometimes but, he’s still not ready yet.”

gojo nods once and chooses not to press about his ex best friend further. “and how are you?”

“m-me? i thought we’d just went over that—“

your ex turns to face you fully, a pleading look on his face that shocks you out of your casual stance. you can still see how much he adores you and cares for you, as if it never left his nature to want the best for you.

“are you happy?”

he asks the loaded question like it’s easy to answer and you do have to think about it. are you happy? you’ve been putting in the work to feel like that again, after breaking it off with satoru you were low. almost rock bottom. it was your first ever break up and it hit hard — not to mention you didn’t have your older brother to fall back on at the time. you knew it was time to stop depending on others, it was time to grow your own spine. you took to therapy, you learned your triggers and icks and red flags. it took time and patience with yourself, but here you were, a year later and a little happier than when you saw satoru last.

“yeah,” you confirm with a shy nod, taking interest in your feet while you hide your smile. “i’m happy. with myself, my work and my partner—“

partner?

“—you’re dating someone?” gojo quips as the elevator dings for the floor just before his.

“ahh yes! it’s still new but… he makes me happy. yuuta okkotsu, you might have seen him around? i hear his family’s company and yours have done some work together.” you seem bashful as you talk about yuuta, someone you met through work, someone your age. a sense of pride in being together taking over you. you show him off and boast about him in a way that you wished gojo would have done for you.

the revelation nearly kills satoru — it’s like a bullet to the chest or a knife to his heart. envy bleeds from the open wound, pours down his front and taints his blood stream. it fucking hurts to know that you’ve moved on to someone who treats you better than he ever could…but you deserve it. you were so good to him and to the world that it would seem like a crime for you to end up with someone who didn’t love and appreciate you in the ways that they should.

that doesn’t make him feel any better though, it makes him feel as though he might die.

when the elevator reaches the gojo’s floor — he falters in stepping out without saying goodbye or replying to you. he would be doing it to hurt you, and to be spiteful or petty. just like back then.

there’s still so much that he wants to say to you — so many things he wants to fix but he can’t shake the feeling that this was it. this was closure for the both of you.

as he exits, he whirls around with enough time to spare before the doors close on you, and this chapter of both of your lives — just catching your bewildered expression. “thank you, for everything,” gojo calls to you fondly, watching your previous expressions morph into something soft and appreciative. “i…i really did love you, and if i could go back and do those two years over again. i’d be better, for you. i’d love you, properly.”

the doors to the elevator slowly begin to close and satoru steps forward at the same time as you — it feels like you’re sharing one last goodbye.

“i know,” you say without a trace of malice, a wistfulness in your voice. “i’m thankful to have been with you, because you taught me so much in such little time. i’d do it again, if we were better.”

a sad smile tugs at the corner’s of gojo’s pink lips. “in another life?”

“in another life.” you confirm, mirroring his smile as the elevator finally seals itself shut — leaving him with his reflection on it’s cool, metal doors.

it’s a shame that you only have one life, and that there aren’t any do overs. that way, everyone could live a life without regret — because gojo has his regrets, where he wishes that he loved you better, harder, more…so that you’d come back to him and you would be his.

always.

so redditors and other losers lurking on this thread. that’s my update. i already know a lot of you are going to say that i deserve this — and i do. but i’m happy for her, for both of them and i wish them both all the best. whaddya say, am i still the asshole?

END.

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bighitfics · 2 months

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jeon jungkook fanfics you should definitely watch before he comes back from the military.

(because girl you need it!) ୨୧ ‧₊˚

Trapped ୨ৎ by @jasminefics

— billionaire jungkook with serious anger issues, unrequited love (not really), forced proximity, marriage of convenience.

(the bgm alongside the writing is just topnotch, this author portrays jungkook as a grey character so wonderfully, you will find yourself confused but equally enthralled because you don’t know if you’re supposed to hate him or lowkey understand where he comes from)

One Night Stand With A Wanted Criminal ༄ by @bangtanff

— criminal jungkook, enemies to lovers, she fell first he fell harder kinda trope, smut, angst.

(this is a mini web series at this point, the one that deserves to air on netflix or amazon prime, the visual quality of this fanfic is unrivalled, the playlist is so convincing you’ll think its an album originally made for this series only, the best jungkook fanfic on youtube (in terms of quality)

Some Little Things Called Love ୭˚. ᵎᵎ by @.dreamers

— strangers to lovers, drama, angst, slice of life.

(it took me a while to get over this series, because I couldn’t stop crying my heart out for them, trust me when i tell you that my entire perspective on life changed after i finished watching it, some kdrama script writers need to take notes or hire her because the storyline is so impactful, we need more of such genres)

The Other Man ٠࣪⭑ by @hwangguemfictions

— love triangle, slowburn, depressed oc, simp jungkook (who fell first, and harder everytime)

(you might feel a little pissed at the beginning but every character is right at their own places, you can’t really judge or despise anyone, i love this fic with all my arteries)

From Now, Forever. 𓍯 by @hwangguemfictions

— whole kdrama feels, strangers to lovers, ill and sick oc, toxic delulu jungkook.

(I could feel the pain over the screen ya’ll, the endings really bittersweet!)

Stalker ୨ৎ by @starkofwinterfall

— stalker jungkook, university au, kidnapping, found family.

(this is so good omg! takes me back in time 😫🤚🏽 had me screaming, blushing, sliding down the door!!! the plot twist will blow your mind girlies)

have a good watch sweet cheeks ཻུ۪۪♡.

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thestarsarebrightertonight · 5 months

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fresh out the slammer // mattheo riddle x fem reader

playlist : fresh out the slammer - taylor swift

summary : after a 6 month relationship with the narcissistic cormac mclaggen youre finally free and ready to move on asap.

gryffindor reader , y/n used , swearing

masterlist

"fuck you mclaggen!" you screamed as you ran out of his dorm , having caught him snogging a random ravenclaw girl.

your anger was going wild as he chased you down the corridor , shouting pleas of forgivness. but you couldnt help feel relieved to finally have an excuse to break up with him , the happiness and fury seemed to merge into one in your mind.

"mclaggen speak one more word and i swear to merlin ill FUCK YOU UP!" you screamed in his face making him abruptly stop before you turned around and stormed out of the portrait hole.

"yeah well youre ugly anyways!" he deperatly shouted after you as you laughed , making sure he would hear ,"and youre a bitch!"

"and your dick is small!" you shouted back at him , flipping him off just in time before the portrait hole slammed shut.

you let out a sigh of relief when it finally shut , the fat lady staring down at you with suprise before giving you a soft hum of approval , getting back to her normal position.

your whole face brightened into a grin as the realisation sunk in , you were single....but you were free from mclaggen!!

practically skipping to the great hall with a bright grin you waved and greeted every person that passed happily , many were confused by your happiness.

but your friends were even more confused when you ran into the great hall , sprinting to the gryffindor table and stopping infront of them.

"IM FREE!" you cheered before jumping up and down on the spot.

they all stared at you like youd gone mad as you quickly realised hogwarts gossip was quick- but not so quick your breakup from 3 minutes ago wouldve reached them yet.

"free from what?" harry finally broke the silence as you grinned at him.

"MCLAGGEN!" you squealed in excitement before sitting down next to ron.

they all seemed confused until hermione face morphed into pure shock , "you broke up with him?!"

both harry and ron quickly let out "ohh"s of realisation as you nodded with happiness , "i caught him snogging a ravenclaw , great right?! i was so angry at the time but when i realised i was free of him , i practically danced here!"

hermione held back a laugh , "y/n im so sorry thats awful!".

"the only awful thing about it is mclaggens breath," ron muttered as you laughed and shoved him arm causing him to gasp , "thats the first time youve ever laughed at a mclaggen joke , you usually smack the back of my head!".

"yeah well now that im not tied to that physco , i can laugh again!" you beamed like the sun as they all couldnt help but smile.

"im happy for you , happy break up," harry supported with a smile.

"thanks harry!" you then turned serious , "maybe i should be single for a while , i need to recover from the trauma that is being that goblins girlfriend."

ron snorted besides you as hermione let out a small giggle before spotting something behind you and smirking , "yeah i dont think being single will last too long."

"youre right , i just want to kiss someone right now ,because i can!" you laughed.

"yeah well i think i know someone very willing to volunteer for that," hermione said as you smirked and looked at her 'who?' she flicked her eyes back behind you , "riddle. the boy has been obsessed since third year everyone knows it."

"seriously?!" you asked in complete shock as heat rushed to your cheeks , the truth is youve liked him for a very long time , but his cold nature made you dismiss it as a unrealistic crush.

"y/n he hexed mclaggen twice when he found out you were dating." harry said blankly as if this infomation was well known.

"that was him?! mclaggen told me his nose was abnomrally large because the twins pulled a prank on him."

"oh yeah that was the twins but the boils all over his face and the uncontrollable itching? riddle." ron nodded.

"i just thought it was a rough week for him wow" you whispered , all the peices falling into place as you finally decided to turn around to look at mattheo.

and there he was , staring right back at you with his head in his hands , seemingly in a daze. until he quickly snapped out of it when you winked at him.

in mattheos opinion you were the prettiest and funniest girl he knew , and you didnt know him. so when you winked at him and giggled at the scarlett blush that formed on his cheeks , he nearly passed out.

"look at little mattys cheeks!" theodore teased having seen the whole thing ,"did the pretty gryffindor finally give you a glance matty?"

mattheo threw him a cold glare before looking at your back that was now turned to him , he had learned to tune out his friends teasing , especially since it had plagued him every day since third year.

but what he didnt expect was for you to get up out of your seat and run over to him with a bright smile , stopping infront of him and sitting down in the empty spot beside him. even his teasing friends had gone dead silent seeing the gryffindor girl infront of them.

"hi! mattheo right?" you grinned at him as he stared back with wide eyes.

"y-yeah yeah thats me," he struttered.

"sorry , i do know your name its just my friends call you riddle so much i had to make sure. i mean how could i forget such a handsome face?" you winked as everyones jaws dropped, mattheos especially.

"i- thank you..you....youre gorgeous!" the last part came out in a flustered shout as the whole hall turned around in surpise and his friends hid the giggled behind their hands.

you blushed. YOU BLUSHED?! mattheos brain was going into overdrive as the pink hue lit up your cheeks , he never knew it was possible for you to get even prettier.

"t-..thank you mattheo. look i know weve never really talked before , but ive always thought youre funny and nice eventhough you keep to yourself, and obviously hot" his face turned fully red as you so casually gave him the most compliments hes ever recieved in his life, "i was wondering if you wanted to go to hogsmeade with me?"

you smiled hopefully as he stared back with pure suprise on his face. you sat like this for a few moments as he recollected his thoughts , unmoving.

"YES PLEASE!" he said loudly making you laugh as people turned yet again.

"youre cute! see you there!" you said adoringly before kissing his cheek and walking back to the gryffindor table.

the whole of his friend group sat in silence before mattheo banged his head on the table letting out a loud groan of frustration, embarrassment rushing through his veins. this cued the loud howls of laughted from his friends.

"yes please!! he said yes please!!" lorenzo wheezed.

"ive never seen something so awkward in my life!" pansy choked through hysterical laughter , clutching dracos arm for support.

"mattheo for someone so cold and untouchable , you acted like a ten year old!" blaise laughed at him.

mattheo lifted his head from the table , face still as crimson as the ribbon in your hair , "remind me to throw myself off the astronomy tower."

draco dramatically gasped , "not before your big date!" he said in a sarcastic teasing.

and from the gryffindor table you also radiated a crushing embarassment , "i asked if he was called mattheo , UGH!".

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ahundredtimesover · 9 months

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I Want You to Stay (01) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 12k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: Happy 2024, everyone! 🎉 Dropping this tonight as a welcome to the new year and the start of the wild journey that is this story. It's a different JK that I'm used to writing. It's also a different arrangement for me as the story is still being written, so just a heads up that updates won't be as regular compared to before, but they'll definitely come (pls don't come at me hehe 😁)! This is also a painfully slow build-up with lots of details and office talk so please be patient! I don’t know how this will turn out and be revived but I hope you enjoy! 💕

Also my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight as always 🥰

Jung Hoseok’s smile is like a ray of sunshine - warm on cool mornings, radiant on sunny afternoons. It’s light and infectious, but more than anything, it’s genuine. There’s comfort in the way his entire face beams and how the rest of his body follows; there’s this sense of openness that makes it easy to be around him, that makes it easy to work for him.

It was 10 years ago when you first encountered that smile - bright and encouraging as he welcomed you and the rest of the interns to his family’s company. It slowly dissolved the anxiety you were feeling over being 1 of 12 chosen students to work for one of the leading real estate and property development corporations in the country. You’d see it again two years later as an employee, and you recall how he perked up at the sight of you, having remembered those eight weeks you spent preparing the conference room for their meetings and serving the executives their coffee.

You wouldn’t have expected that five years after that, you’d be seeing that smile everyday as his executive assistant, and it was one of the things that made the job bearable. Despite the long hours and the amount of work you had to do and events you had to accompany him to, working for Hoseok always felt worth it. Despite the insane amount of pressure he was put under and the stress he had to endure, Hoseok somehow always managed to smile.

He was serious when he had to be, but there was joy in how he did things. He allowed himself moments of calm, of time to check in on his support team for a few laughs. He’d spare himself a few minutes a day to sway to the soft music he plays in his office, he’d preside over meetings with vigor, and he’d start and end every interaction with anyone with that smile - the same smile that assures you that all your hard work is appreciated and which encourages you to keep learning.

It’s that same smile that he has on right now, as he hands you a custom-made cake with ‘you worked hard’ written on it. He says the words as your eyes turn to him in surprise.

“Thank you for all that you’ve done,” Hoseok says. “I know you were new to the role just like I was but you made everything so easy for me. I’m gonna have to get used to being without your brilliance, Ms. Cho. I hope you never doubt yourself ever again.”

Your astonished face turns into a pout, as it dawns on you that it’s Friday, the first unofficial day of you no longer being Hoseok’s executive assistant, given his appointment as President not long ago. Yet despite the big change he’ll be experiencing starting next week, he’s the one affirming and comforting you, something that’s rare for someone of his stature and something you’ll definitely miss.

“You know I don’t cry, but I just might,” you respond, earning you a chuckle. “But really, I… I can’t thank you enough for taking a chance on me. I know my credentials weren’t like the others but—”

“Ms. Cho,” he interjects. “The only credentials those other applicants had were the universities they went to, but none of them matched your level of skill and dedication to the role. I can assure you that none of them would’ve managed the past three years like you did. I should be thanking you for dealing with all the craziness with me.”

“You’re a good boss, it’s that simple,” you return the compliment now. “You were patient with me and challenged me to be better without putting me down. That does a lot for a person’s confidence, you know?”

“I know that now,” he smiles again. “But really, I don’t think I could’ve asked for a more competent right-hand woman. Jungkook’s lucky he’s taking my position with the most capable assistant to help him out.”

At the mention of the man’s name, your face sours, something that Hoseok picks up, earning you another laugh.

“Not a fan of him, I see,” he eyes you curiously.

“I don’t mean any disrespect, Mr. Jung, but your cousin is not you,” you explain. “I may have only seen him a handful of times but those are enough to let me know that he does not smile.”

“Yes, I do confirm that,” Hoseok chuckles. “Jungkook’s quite the perfectionist and very much a workaholic. But he’s brilliant and creative and you’ll learn a lot from him, too. He’s being primed to co-lead the company with me and he needs a strong support for that and I think that’s you. His father thinks that’s you, and for the CEO to think so means a lot, ___. Uncle has seen how you work and was adamant that you remain in this role, especially with his son assuming the Vice President position.”

You know that Hoseok means to reassure you, but you suppose your insecurities over having this role and even being in this company won’t ever really go away. You didn’t graduate from a prestigious university in Seoul like most employees here did, and in this society, that usually means everything. You’re thankful for the trust that you’ve been given and you agree that you worked hard for it, too, but it will always be overwhelming; even then, it sometimes still feels undeserved.

At your silence, Hoseok speaks again. “___, as your former boss and as your friend, I’m here to back you up. Jungkook’s family but if he, for some reason, acts like a hard-headed jerk, you let me know, okay?”

He turns serious now, as he silently asks for you to promise him that you’ll speak out if you need to. Hoseok knows what you went through under Mrs. Byun, the former manager who abused her power over you until her own slip-up caused her downfall years later, and he doesn’t want you to go through that again.

“Okay. But I didn’t mean to imply that he’s a jerk just because he doesn’t smile,” you clarify. “I guess I meant to say that… I’ll miss working for you. That’s all. We somehow always got a laugh in, no matter how stressful things were. I’ll miss being with A-yeong, too.”

“I know you also meant to say that I’m the best boss you’ve ever had,” Hoseok chuckles, though you don’t miss the sadness in his eyes, too. “But I’ll just be two floors above you. You’ll still see me everywhere. And A-yeong’s gonna miss you, too, that’s why she can’t let you go without having dinner out, that I’m apparently not invited to.”

“We’re just gonna gossip about you, don’t worry,” you tease, appreciative of the fact that his wife has been kind to you all these years, apologizing to you on his behalf during the rare times he’s cranky, and gifting you little things from their trips abroad. “But thank you again, Hoseok,” you continue, dropping the formalities when you mean to speak to him as a friend, because that’s what he is, and it’s a rarity in this industry where those in power tend to take advantage of those below them. “You’ve treated me well, and I’ll never forget that.”

“Thank you, ___,” he smiles once more. “I’ll finish setting up my new office now. I’ll see you there in 30 minutes, okay? I know Jungkook officially starts on Monday but he wanted to get all the administrative stuff out of the way as soon as possible and since my old room is being sanitized, he’ll be staying at mine the whole morning. HR has everything he needs to sign so please get those documents from them before heading to my office.”

“Oh, so he’s coming today?” You ask, unable to hide the mix of surprise and disappointment in your voice. You’re clearly uninformed about this. “Didn’t he just arrive last night?”

“Yes, he did. I thought he’d at least spend today resting but no, he called me an hour ago to say he’ll drop by this morning so he can get straight to business on his first day,” Hoseok explains, shaking his head at the thought of his cousin wanting to get straight to work. “I know it’s short notice so you don’t need to brief him or anything yet. You’ve been buried in organizing all my files this past week after all.”

“Okay, but I’ve got everything organized for him already anyway in case he wants to start,” you say, having prepared all the documents he’d need to ease into his role more smoothly, knowing it’s your job to help him with that.

“Of course you have,” Hoseok chuckles, impressed as always with how on top you are of everything. “I’ll see you in half an hour.”

You sulk in your seat once he’s out of view, whining internally because much as your files are ready for your new boss, you’re the one who isn’t. You’d held off on mentally preparing yourself for meeting the Jeon Jungkook, second son of the current CEO of Jeon Corporation and the new Vice President, thinking you’d have the entire weekend for that, so you’re caught off guard at having to face him today. It’s one thing to move on from no longer having Jung Hoseok as your boss - that itself took you months to process and accept; it’s another to have to get used to assisting someone else, someone you know is completely different in attitude and approach to his work.

Jungkook used to be an executive in the Singapore office, the Southeast Asian headquarters of the company. In your three years as Hoseok’s assistant, you’d only seen Jungkook a few times, such as when he’d fly to Seoul for an official visit or a family gathering but you never interacted, as you didn’t really have a reason to, especially since you were always busy with making sure the event was running smoothly.

But you’d definitely noticed him, partly because the female staff always talked about him when he was around, and partly because next to his parents and his cousins, who are all personable in their own ways, Jungkook sticks out like a sore thumb. You’re not exaggerating when you say that you’ve never seen him smile - not for the pictures and not when he’s talking to the other executives and employees, a contrast to his father’s infectious charm and his mother’s youthful energy.

You’ve gotten used to Hoseok’s passion balanced with his thoughtfulness and joy - you always enjoyed the videos that A-yeong would show you of their weekends doing ballroom dancing because it’s what he loved to do with her. You’re unsure how you’ll manage assisting someone who’s the complete opposite. You’ve heard of Jungkook’s abilities though; his father always spoke of them with pride. Creative and innovative, he’d say of his son, but he always lived in his head, too, and perhaps that’s why even if he can socialize with others, he prefers not to, given that you’d always seen him at the bar after said events, drinking on his own.

You didn’t think those times that you’d one day be having him as your boss. You didn’t expect the appointments to come this soon, nor did you expect to still be in the company by the time they happened. But here you are, about to meet him and hoping to the heavens that whatever preconceived notions you have of him based on what very little you know would be proven wrong.

Wanting to calm yourself down before meeting him, you head to the management support team’s office for a cup of tea in the pantry, but you’re stopped by Do-hyun, one of the project assistants.

She hugs you like she always does, even if you rarely ever return it, and she whines like you expect her to, given her unusually pouty face.

“It’s only been an hour but I already miss Mr. Jung,” she laments. “Why did they appoint him as President so soon? They could’ve waited for another year or so, or at least let him take us with him!”

You find yourself being the reasonable one this time, as you pull her away from you so you could talk to her properly.

“We always knew he was going to be President, Do-hyun. But then the Board decided to make Ji-woo head of the Singapore office after their uncle stepped down, and that meant Hoseok had to take his sister’s place,” you explain, knowing how generational corporations like this work, with family members rotating in the executive positions. “And much as he’d like to take us with him, the position already comes with its own team. He’s just two floors above us, though. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if we popped in every once in a while to say hi.”

“No, I’m bitter,” she pouts again, earning her a laugh from you.

“Well, at least the new Vice President isn’t a stranger,” Manager Lee chimes in.

“I heard the CEO’s son doesn’t smile,” Do-hyun counters. “How do we go from assisting someone who literally gives all of us the energy to work each day, to someone who doesn’t think there’s anything worth being happy about? I also heard he’s a workaholic, so what if he demands that we can’t leave the office until he does? And that he’s kind of a fuck boy, so what if he has a scandal that we have to—”

“Yah! Those are just hearsay, and we don’t listen to those,” you warn her, not wanting the team to start on a bad note because of some rumors about your new boss that may or may not be true.

And if those are, it’s your job to make sure that those are handled properly and that there’s no friction between the management support team and the Vice President. The thought suddenly hits you and you feel nauseous. You’ve never had these worries with Hoseok because he always prioritized the team - he made sure that tasks were properly delegated, that you all took your well-deserved break, that you weren’t burnt out, that you all knew he got your back the way you all got his.

But then again, it’s natural to be anxious about change, especially when what you had was already the best it could’ve been. And much as you were the one worrying about this earlier, you’re now the one who has to reassure the team, especially the younger members, that things are going to be okay.

“You’ll meet him soon, and I’ll make sure he’s properly oriented with everything before he sits down with you all,” you say. “Let’s just be optimistic about this, okay? Manager Lee has been here a while and he can guide all of us when it comes to adapting to changes like this.”

The rest of the team nods, voicing their agreement about being open and welcoming to your new boss.

“Okay, good. Now let me get my tea before I combust,” you chuckle, heading towards the adjacent room.

You’re busy taking breaths in between sips of your hot drink when you see a familiar face in the room through the glass window, prompting you to head back outside.

“Mr. Ri,” you greet, causing the man before you to turn towards you. “What are you doing here? Does Mr. Jeon need anything?”

Knowing you’re referring to the elder Jeon, Mr. Ri shakes his head.

“I’m here as Jungkook’s chauffeur and bodyguard, actually. His father appointed me, wanting people he trusts to help his son,” he clarifies. “I’ve just driven him from his penthouse.”

“Oh,” you say, unable to control the way your face falls a little. “So, he’s here.”

“He is. He said he wanted to get things done today so he doesn’t waste his time when he starts next week. He’s at Hoseok’s office right now. I believe he’s supposed to sign some documents?”

“Oh shit,” you blurt out, immediately setting down your half-finished tea and rushing out the door to speed-walk to your desk, ignoring Mr. Ri’s demand for you to slow down.

With what little you know of your new boss, he seems like the type to not excuse tardiness, so you take your files, head to HR to retrieve some documents, and then proceed to Hoseok’s office. You try to catch your breath as you head towards the door, which opens before you get to knock, revealing Bitna, the President’s assistant, who greets you with a sweet smile.

“Hi, ___. I was just about to call you,” she says. “CEO Jeon is inside as well. Just walk in, they’re waiting for you.”

You cross the small hallway as the door gently closes, and you stop in your tracks the moment you hear Jungkook’s voice.

“I still prefer my old assistant,” he says, obviously displeased. “He was very organized, highly educated, and well-traveled. While this Ms. Cho didn’t even study in a top university in Seoul. And Hoseok says she doesn’t know any other foreign languages when that’s one of my requirements.”

“Son, you’re being too harsh,” CEO Jeon chides. “Ms. Cho is a top performing employee, very hardworking and dedicated. She’s worked here for eight years and she imbibes all our values; she knows the company culture and knows the ins and outs of things with how she’s been exposed to them. Ask your cousin; Hoseok speaks highly of her.”

“___ is great, Kook. She’s incredibly organized and highly analytical and observant. She doesn’t need a Seoul education to be good at what we need her to be good at,” Hoseok argues.

“I still want my old assistant. It’s more convenient that way. Lucas already knows how I work and what I require of him,” Jungkook insists. “I’m just saying that I need things to be efficient and she and I can’t be adjusting to each other when there are multiple projects that I’d much rather give my attention to.”

“And I’m saying that Ms. Cho probably knows more than you do when it comes to these projects,” the elder Jeon counters. “Plus, your old assistant would have to adjust to life in Seoul and that’s harder. It’s just not practical, especially since you’re due to start in a few days. You have other things to worry about. ___ is there to make your life easier. Give her that chance to do her job.”

“But I—”

“Good morning, gentlemen,” you greet, not wanting to hear whatever unfounded things that Jungkook has to say, even if you have your own preconceived notions about him which, you remind yourself, are partly founded. Barely five minutes in and you already can’t stand his judgmental and entitled ass.

You walk towards the middle of the room where they’re congregated on the couches, with the elder Mr. Jeon and Hoseok smiling at you while Jungkook merely glances at you, his jaw clenched, perhaps irritated at the fact that you’d overheard him completely misjudge and undermine your abilities without even knowing who you are.

“Good morning, Ms. Cho,” CEO Jeon says. “I know you’ve seen him a few times but I’d like you to officially meet my son and the new Vice President, Jungkook.”

Jungkook turns to you with a disinterested look but he doesn’t meet your eyes. You bow as a sign of respect, even if it’s the last thing you think he deserves.

“My pleasure, Mr. Jeon,” you respond. “I was told that you’d like to proceed with administrative matters this morning. I have all the documents with me and I can explain each one to you before you sign them. I’ve also consolidated all the things you need to know prior to your meetings next week,” you add, handing him an iPad. “This has the resumes of each member of your management support team, including their professional and development goals. Mine are there as well, so you can read about my credentials and achievements in this company the past eight years, which I think have tremendously helped me in performing my duties satisfactorily. There’s also a folder of team profiles of each of the departments you’re overseeing. You’ll also find closure reports of completed projects from the past five years, progress reports of ongoing projects, and approved and working proposals of upcoming ones. I’ve included summaries and key figures for each of them. You may read them prior to your meetings, and if there’s anything missing that you’d like me to include, I can have them ready by the end of the day.”

“Hmm,” Jungkook hums, as he scrolls through all the folders you’ve prepared for him.

In your periphery, you can see the other two men holding in smiles as you seemingly render the younger man speechless, but while he assesses all that you’ve provided to him, you’re given time to observe the man seated before you. Other than his slightly longer hair, not much has changed from when you saw Jungkook in last year’s gala.

As he drags his tongue across the inside of his cheek with his scrunched eyebrows in judgment, you’re reminded that this is the first time you’ve seen him up close. And even from his angle, you can tell.

He’s unfairly handsome.

He’s got dark expressive eyes, soft-looking pink lips, and a sharp jawline that complement his lean figure. You understand why the staff are enamored by him even from afar and - if the rumors about him are true - why women would shoot their shot with him at clubs, in hopes they’d be the lucky one he’d choose to be with for the night.

The illusion breaks, though, as he turns to you with a hardened gaze.

“I’m sure I’ll find something that’s missing,” he states.

“If they’re relevant and necessary, I can have the files ready by today,” you respond, knowing full well that you’ve included every possible document that would be of use to him.

“I’ll be the judge of what’s relevant and necessary, Ms. Cho,” he counters.

“Of course, Mr. Jeon,” you say, conceding. “Whatever it is, then I’ll make sure to have them ready for you as soon as possible.”

Jungkook hums in response, turning his attention to the HR documents this time, breezing through the text and ignoring your brief explanations of the contents before signing at the bottom of the pages. You inform him of sections he’s missed, and he groans at having been corrected but you don’t mind. He’s the one who chose to do all this now and in here, in front of his father and his cousin.

Once he’s done, he hands you the signed files and holds your gaze. “Is there anything else, Ms. Cho?”

“I suppose that is all, Mr. Jeon. Unless there are other things you want to assess, or people you want to ensure are qualified to assist you with your functions,” you say.

Jungkook huffs in displeasure. You can sense the tension build, as irritation paints his face. It’s at that moment that his father chimes in, suggesting that you introduce him to his team.

“You can maybe also orient him on the current projects and partnerships,” the older man says.

“That can wait. I’ve had enough of engaging for today,” Jungkook responds, his voice cold, detached.

“In that case, let me lead you to your floor, Mr. Jeon.”

You step back and wait for him to walk ahead, before you excuse yourself from the older men. You don’t miss the sorry looks on their faces, and you give them a smile as if to say that it’s fine, that Jungkook’s someone you can handle, and his obvious displeasure towards having you as his assistant doesn’t faze you. It doesn’t change the fact that you wish he wasn’t your boss though, or at least, that he wasn’t such a jerk like what he’s being right now.

Walking behind him as you both head towards the elevator, you see the way he carries himself - hands in the pockets of his sleek black trousers, his eyes focused straight ahead, nothing like Hoseok who was always gesticulating as he spoke to you every time you walked side-by-side from one place to another.

Jungkook stands in front of the doors, seemingly waiting for you to press the buttons and you do it before he could even express his annoyance. You stand in front this time, then make sure you hold the doors open for him to exit, and you resume your spot behind him as you walk down the hallway.

“On the left are two small meeting rooms and one conference room,” you start, thankful that there’s not much to tour him around on this floor, given that everything is exclusive to the Vice President. “On the right is a seating room, and up ahead is an archive room. Down the—”

“I’ve been here before, Ms. Cho,” Jungkook interjects as he looks at you blankly. “This is my family’s building; I’m very much aware of how the floors look like.”

Not rattled by his disruption, you nod and smile, wanting to show him that whatever intimidation or humiliation he’s trying to make you feel isn’t gonna work on you. You know if you show any sign of frustration, that will just give him a reason to have you replaced and despite your clear dislike for the man, you need this job, especially this position that allows you to pay your rent in a safe part of town and send money to your family every month. At this point, that’s the only thing that will keep you going.

Approaching the management support office, you walk faster and make sure to enter the room before he does, signaling the team with your eyes that their new boss is coming, your silently frantic gaze telling them to be on their best behavior because their usual antics won’t work on Jungkook the way they did with Hoseok.

Once Jungkook appears, everyone bows and greets him, and you can sense them holding their breaths as they look up, taking him all in. You see him eye each person, and you can tell he’s already assessing them individually. You take it upon yourself to introduce each one, stating their name, where they studied and what course they took, describing their primary role in the team and their specific strengths. You see him follow your words, nodding and humming as you go, and you think he’s processing the information and making sure he remembers them.

There are no pleasantries; Jungkook just goes straight to the point.

“I’m sure you have concerns about having a new boss and the changes that come along with it. But I’m here to tell you now that you should get over whatever those are, as I’d like the adjustment period to be as short as possible,” he starts. “My cousin is brilliant at his job and so am I, but we work very differently, so whatever you got used to doing with and for him, don’t expect the same with me. I demand excellence and efficiency from each one of you because that’s what I commit myself to and that’s the only way that this team will be able to do its job. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir,” the team answers in unison.

“We commit to those as well, Mr. Jeon,” Manager Lee says. “As the head of your support team, I will make sure that all our deliverables are of high quality and that things will run smoothly so that we may properly do our job of assisting you.”

“That’s good, and that’s what I expect,” Jungkook says, nodding at everyone before walking out the door to head to his office, with you trailing him from behind.

“Is my room still being sanitized?” He turns to you.

“Yes, sir.”

“Why did it need to be sanitized? And why today?”

“It’s protocol, sir. We also had a sendoff for Mr. Jung yesterday so the room smelled of food. And he instructed for this to be done today so that I don’t need to come here tomorrow, as he doesn’t like any of his staff working during the weekend,” you reply. “This should be finished this afternoon. I’ve also purchased the oil for your diffusers. The room will be ready for you by Monday.”

Jungkook merely hums and looks around, specifically at your designated area with your desk and shelves at the back, then takes a call before turning to you again to say that he’s heading out to meet his friends.

“Is there anything else you need, Mr. Jeon?” You ask, thankful that you don’t have to deal with him for the rest of the day.

“No.”

“Okay then, sir. I’ll meet you at your apartment at 6:30 AM on Monday. Is that time alright?”

“Sure,” he responds, then turns around and starts walking out. “Just keep your phone on. I work during the weekend.”

He’s gone before you can even respond, and you rush to the support office once you’ve heard the elevator ding that indicates that he’s gone. When you get there, you’re greeted with everyone’s frowns, with Do-hyun close to tears.

“I don’t like him, ___. He looks so unapproachable and too serious!” She complains. “I miss Mr. Jung. Is there an opening in his team? Should I just resign?”

“Aish!” You reprimand her. “Don’t speak like that. And don’t let those few minutes determine everything for you.”

“Well, those few minutes are enough to tell me that I don’t like him. No matter how good-looking he is,” Chin-sun says.

“He is, right!” Do-hyun chirps now, a complete 180 from seconds ago. “I’ve seen him around but I didn’t think he’d be even more handsome up close! It just sucks that he’s a grinch and that makes all the difference. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t have a girlfriend! He’s probably too snobby and—”

“Yah! You really need to stop it with those rumors,” you scold her this time. “That’s your boss. His personal life is none of our business. Where do you even hear these things?”

“Every washroom in this building, basically. Staff are always gossiping there, you know?” Do-hyun responds.

“And since when do we listen to gossip,” you scowl at her. “Sure, he’s not our favorite person right now but we don’t have the right to make claims about aspects of his life. And where are people even getting those ideas!”

“People talk, I guess,” she shrugs. “And he’s often spotted in clubs with those Kim brothers so maybe they see things. I’m not saying they’re all accurate… just that rumors often have some truth to them, you know?”

“No, I don’t, and we shouldn’t be sticking our noses in places where they shouldn’t be,” you say.

“Fine, but it’s just a heads up,” Do-hyun says, turning serious now. “You’re his executive assistant, and you have no choice but to stick your nose in places because personal and professional lines are often blurred in your situation, and that’s just how our world’s set up.”

“She’s right,” Chin-sun chimes in. “I mean, you need to know his personal schedule, go to his apartment, do errands if you need to, maybe buy a box of condoms if he runs out… You just got lucky that Mr. Jung’s pretty chill and has a wife who’s even nicer than he is. Your only problem was that he was damn scared of everything that moved and wasn't human.”

You’d laugh at the last statement if you could, but you know they’re both right. Hoseok wasn’t perfect, and neither was his marriage, but it never reached a point where you had to be put in a compromising position because you were his assistant who, by nature of your work, had to be privy to some of his personal matters. The most involved you were was when he and A-yeong had an argument and they used you as their messenger, but even that was more of a miscommunication issue than anything serious. They apologized to you after and promised to never put you in that kind of situation again.

But with Jungkook as a single man, you’re unsure what personal business you’d end up being involved in. You just wish it wasn’t something that would test your principles and cause you to lose your job. Regardless, whatever that would be isn’t something you can even really talk about with others.

“Well, I don’t wanna think about any of that right now,” you sigh, knowing you’ve got enough to worry about, such as how you’re going to start surviving everyday assisting a man who clearly doesn’t want you around.

But if he’s gonna be a hard-head about it, then you’re just going to have to match him. You got to where you are because you’re determined to prove yourself constantly, and you’ll just show him that he needs you, and he doesn’t really have a choice unless he wants to argue with his father.

You try to encourage your team once more and give Do-hyun that rare hug in comfort before going back to your desk, intent on finishing all the presentations for your briefing with Jungkook next week. You begin setting up his room by mid-afternoon, using a photo of his Singapore office as a basis since you were told that he prefers a certain style for his furniture and decor. You’re no stylist but over an hour after you finish, you think you did pretty good. You were so into designing the space that you didn’t notice the time fly by; before you know it, it’s 6PM, because you can hear A-yeong right outside calling for you.

“Hi,” she chirps, hugging you in greeting. “Are you ready?”

“I’ll just pack my things,” you say, walking to your desk.

A-yeong takes a peek at the room and praises your efforts. “This looks so different from how it used to be. And that’s good because those cousins have such different tastes. But I think Jungkook will like this. He’s into the masculine and moody vibe, so good job, ___.”

You know that despite her kindness, she wouldn’t lie, and you could only hope that she’s right. You think it looks nice, but it’s what he thinks that matters; you’ll just have to wait until Monday to find out.

As you’re about to leave, Hoseok appears in the hallway and asks how you are. Your scowl pretty much gives you away.

“I’m sorry about Jungkook, ___. He’s stubborn and a hot-head sometimes but he isn’t always like that, and this isn’t me making excuses for him,” your former boss says.

“Why, what did he do?” A-yeong asks worriedly.

“Basically implied that I’m not qualified for this role, among other things,” you respond. “But it’s okay. Not like I haven’t heard that before.”

“And you know that’s not true,” Hoseok comforts you. “He’s not good with change, that’s all, and you know how these appointments were all pretty short notice and he’s just been frustrated ever since. But whatever it is he said, don’t take them to heart. He’ll get a word from me, and he’ll definitely get one from his father.”

You want to say that it’s not easy to just disregard what Jungkook said; he’s your boss after all, and all that matters is what he thinks about you. But you’re not one to air out these feelings to Hoseok now that you’ve experienced a bit of what it’s like, so you just shake your head and ask the older man to let it go.

“He’s probably just tired,” you make an excuse this time, not wanting to discuss further with Hoseok. “And he had that assistant for over five years. I can understand wanting that familiarity and convenience. I’m just gonna have to adjust; there are a lot of things going on right now and he’ll need to focus on the projects, not his compatibility with his assistant.”

“But that matters though,” Hoseok insists. “I got things done because we worked well together. He’s gonna have to meet you in the middle with this one. And I’ll make sure that he does.”

“I know you said you want to look out for me but I don’t think it’s a good idea if you intervene this time, Mr. Jung,” you say, letting him know you’re serious and you mean business. “I’ll be okay, don’t worry about me.”

You give him a comforting smile, and you hope it’s enough to quell Hoseok’s own worries and it works this time. He returns it before letting you and his wife go, and it’s the Thai dinner and incredible desserts that somehow make up for your not-so-great day.

You think the weekend will give you the peace you need to face your dreaded week - you do your errands and chores on Saturday and go to the market and watch a movie by yourself in the cinema the next day.

All it took was a text from Jungkook that Sunday evening, asking for copies of certain policies and disapproved proposals from the last five years, that just had to ruin it, as you spend the entire evening consolidating the files, making you already wish it was Friday.

Jungkook’s apartment building is one of the Jeon properties that you haven’t been to yet, as it’s one of the newer massive residential structures that they built three years ago. You enter the sleek-looking lobby then submit your documents at the reception in exchange for your own access, and you internally marvel at how luxurious everything looks.

You get to the 42nd floor, and it seems that there are only two units here. You walk towards the one on the right, choosing to be on the safe side by ringing the doorbell. It’s Monday, after all, and it’s your first time here; you don’t want to just enter without him permitting you to do so.

You’re about to press the button again after a minute of no response, when the door opens and you take a moment to process the sight before you.

There, standing just a few feet away, is Jungkook with nothing but a pair of black gym shorts on, his taut chest glistening in sweat, and his entire right arm covered in black and colored ink. His hair is damp and ruffled, and it’s probably due to the boxing he’d just done, as evidenced by the wraps on his knuckles and the way he’s panting heavily.

You get your senses back and look away, not wanting to look affected by his half-naked form, even if you’re the one who has to catch her breath this time because much as you dislike the man, you can’t deny that his body is something that definitely deserves to be praised.

“You’re here,” he speaks first, surprise laced in his voice as he takes in your obviously flustered form.

“I asked if 6:30 AM was a good time to come, Mr. Jeon,” you answer, glancing at him before looking at whatever you could behind him. “Perhaps I misheard your confirmation. I can wait downstairs if you’re not yet done with your exercise. My apologies for coming in early.”

You don’t actually have anything to be sorry for; he did confirm the time, and he’s the one who decided that working out at this hour was a good idea, knowing that his assistant’s scheduled to come. You would’ve appreciated it if he says you don’t need to apologize, but he doesn’t.

“It’s fine, I just finished,” he huffs.

He leaves the door open for you to enter then heads straight to the large room on the right, which looks to be an indoor gym. You allow yourself a few seconds to look at his retreating form, quietly gasping as his broad shoulders and slender waist blind you a little, then scolding yourself for doing so. You stay rooted by the kitchen and look around the spacious penthouse as you wait for him to return. He exits the gym wearing a loose white shirt now, combing his hair with his fingers as he drinks a bottle of water.

“So, Mr. Jeon, uh, I would prepare Mr. Jung’s outfits for the week and then help his house staff make his breakfast. I run down his schedule as he eats. Are you okay with the same arrangement?”

“Sure. I just don’t have any staff with me so you’re on your own. I’m fine with anything though. I’m not usually hungry in the morning,” he says before walking to the other side of the apartment.

You follow him, careful not to enter spaces you’re not given permission to, which is why you stand by his bedroom door before asking to come in.

“How will you prepare my clothes from there?” He huffs. “Of course you can enter. Just be done before I finish taking a shower.”

You nod shyly and then head to the walk-in closet that thankfully has a separate door from the bathroom. He’s already unpacked his clothes, although not everything has been organized. You spot a few suits that are ready to wear, and you fix those first, taking note of asking him if there are things he wants dry cleaned or pressed.

You leave his bedroom in time, hearing him slide open the door as you make it out, and proceed to make his breakfast. There’s really not much you can create with what little he has, so you make do with eggs and toast and whatever spread you find in his cupboard.

Jungkook walks into the kitchen not long after, the dark gray suit looking immaculate on him as you expected. Spotting his crooked necktie, you immediately walk up to him to fix it, unaware of how he holds his breath with how close you are. Noticing his body stiffen, you step back right away, apologizing for not asking permission first.

He looks away and says it’s fine, then sits on the spot at the dining table where you’ve set up his meal. He stares at it for a good few seconds, prompting you to explain yourself.

“That’s… that’s all I could make with what you have, Mr. Jeon,” you say. “I can arrange for online groceries for you, as well as dry clean and pressing for your clothes and—”

“I’m having someone come in to clean my place and do all of that,” he says, as he takes a bite of his food. “So, what’s my week like?”

You start to enumerate the conference and lunch meetings he’ll be having this week, including who they’ll be with and their purpose. They’re mostly with the department leads to discuss updates on processes and current projects, and you’re thankful that Hoseok involved you as much as he did, given that Jungkook’s questions are more specific than you expected.

Sure, he’s a Jeon and obviously works in the same company, but the Southeast Asian projects are different from the ones being implemented in South Korea, and while he used to oversee overall compliance to design standards, he’ll now be in-charge of setting those very standards this time. As Vice President, he’ll be involved in crafting policies; he’s also free to manage his own construction projects, and that’s what the support team is for. Given his much more expansive role this time, there are more departments and projects to oversee, and definitely more executive decisions to make.

You suppose it’s why his questions don’t stop, even after he’s cleaned up and you both find yourselves in the backseat of the car and on the way to the office. He looks through the iPad with all the files you gave him, and you see the notes he’s made on them as you turn to him to answer his queries. Even if you know that he’s also still assessing you - perhaps on your knowledge and attention to detail - you can’t help but admire his thoroughness. You may have also cursed him in frustration for making you work on a Sunday, but he seems to have done way more than you, given that he went through all the documents over the weekend. You suddenly don’t feel too annoyed.

But of course, he has to ruin it again.

“I need these annotated versions of the project and departmental documents ready before my meetings with the respective teams,” Jungkook says, his voice low and stern. “And I expect progress reports to be as detailed as possible, so make sure to check them first before they get to me. The ones you gave need revisions. I believe you’re trained enough to know immediately that these are lacking.”

“Yes, sir,” you respond, noting his instructions on your notebook while internally yelling, given that you’re unsure of the need for them before the meetings.

Surely, he could give you some time to work on them, but with a meeting with one team in the afternoon and seven more the rest of the week, and on top of the other things you need to do for him, you already know you’ll be cramming to get everything done.

You try to manage your breathing. Somehow, your habit of pressing your nails against your palm when you're stressed has miraculously come back today. It was something you developed while working under Mrs. Byun, which you eventually got over after working for Hoseok. You feel the anxiety build up, especially as you look at the half crescent marks on your skin, and it’s times like this that you wish your best friends were based in Seoul instead of Busan, so you’d at least have people to comfort you when things are a little tough.

It’s not to say that work wasn’t overwhelming before. It definitely was, but Hoseok always found a way to make everything bearable and he was always reasonable with what he demanded of you. Now you’re stuck with a man who already makes you feel like your hard work isn’t enough.

You make it to the office with no other words said and a thick tension in the air. It follows you to the elevator and into Jungkook’s room, where he dismisses you so he can prepare for the first meeting of the day. You rush to your desk and get on with your tasks, making sure to work on the annotated project file that he needs by the afternoon.

It’s an hour later when you find yourself in the conference room for the meeting with the management support team. You prepped them just 10 minutes earlier, and while you tried to hide your frustration, your unusual lack of energy told them enough that it wasn’t exactly a good start of the day.

They come in one by one, and you take the time to prepare Jungkook’s coffee, remembering from his former assistant’s notes how he wants it. He’d put it off earlier, given that he prefers to drink his protein shake after his workout, so this is the first time you’re doing it for him.

His eyes flit from the coffee in front of him to you as you place it on the table.

“Two espresso shots and half teaspoon each of milk and sugar,” you state, wanting to confirm that you got it right.

He merely takes a sip, places it down again, and then starts the meeting.

How bold of you to assume that he’d thank you or even acknowledge it, as if he’d shown you even the tiniest amount of gratitude for anything you've done for him since Friday. Which he hasn’t.

You let it go and proceed to sit next to him, your eyes and ears ready for what you already predict is gonna be a long meeting.

It ends over three hours later. As you expected, he had a lot of questions. He made sure that each member had time to explain their current tasks and how they will monitor the projects assigned to them. You didn’t miss the way he’d acknowledged them with “good” and “well done,” and thanked them after they finished. He only nodded at you after your turn, with his eyes barely meeting yours, and for all the confidence you built over the past three years, you can’t process how it’s his non-acknowledgment that’s just going to undo all that. And quite frankly, you’re unsure if that’s on him or if that’s on you.

Half of the meeting was spent discussing the big project that he wants to take on as Vice President. There’s a property they recently acquired - a non-operational arts center that he wants to revive by adding a performance hall, small theaters, a grand library, function rooms, and a permanent exhibition presenting the buildings that his family had developed over the years to showcase their architectural designs.

You saw the excitement in your team members’ faces. Hoseok took over with several unfinished projects so you all had to focus on those. Aside from Manager Lee, this is the first time that you’re all handling something new and different. Even you felt the excitement creep in, a welcome emotion given how your day’s been going, but that shattered once he said that he wants it done by June of next year in time for an International Media Festival happening in August. The 12-month period he’s giving is too short with everything he wants to do, and you saw that the team felt the same.

You go to them after Jungkook leaves for a lunch meeting, and their sighs and pouty faces tell you enough. Mr. Lee does his job of encouraging the team, and you add that you’re all gonna be supporting each other through it all. Sure, you’d have to match Jungkook’s ambition and thoroughness, but you should all take it as a challenge.

You’re clearly not convinced yourself as the words come out of your mouth, but you don’t have time to debrief with them, as you still have that meeting with the design department that you have to prepare for. You take two biscuits and a cup of tea, and you decide that this is enough to last you throughout lunch, given that you’ll be spending the entirety of it working on the files.

You don’t realize that an hour and a half have passed until you hear footsteps and see Jungkook’s form appear in the hallway. You stand to greet him, with him asking if you’re done with the annotated documents.

“I’ll send it in five minutes, sir,” you say, hoping he’ll at least give you that.

“Okay,” he responds. “Come to my office after you’ve sent it.”

“Yes, sir,” you say, quickly finishing the last two pages once he closes the door.

You rush to get everything done and click send, then you head to his office and prepare yourself for more questions. It’s quiet inside as you watch him behind the desk, with his legs crossed and his eyebrows furrowed as he reads the document. You answer one of his questions and it’s at that moment when your very empty stomach decides to make itself known.

You freeze on your spot, as the grumbling sound starts low, getting louder for a few beats before it temporarily stops. Your eyes widen in embarrassment, and you press your belly so hard with your fingers in hopes that that would do anything, even if you’re too far gone at this point. Your only hope is that it was all in your head, but Jungkook’s eyes flitting to you tells you otherwise. The only other sound in his room is the air purifier, but it’s not remotely loud enough to drown out your intense hunger.

It goes again, and all you can do is look away; humiliating yourself was definitely not the plan for your first day as Jeon Jungkook’s assistant.

“Do you need to step away, Ms. Cho?” He asks, not meeting your eyes.

“Oh, it’s not… uh,” a bowel emergency or something, you want to say. “I just had a busy lunch break.”

You settle for that, a hint that you’d spent its entirety doing something in such a short notice. Hoseok would always be apologetic whenever he had you do something during your break; he always made up for it with a nice meal as thanks. You doubt you’d get anything close to that from this man.

Jungkook hums and surprisingly doesn’t ask for anything else. He dismisses you and orders you to go ahead and prepare the conference room for the next meeting, and you do just that, dropping by the pantry for a muffin that you eat in four bites, in hopes that it would be enough to shut your stomach for the next three hours.

Right as you exit, Jungkook picks up his phone to make a call. And then another one.

“Mr. Ri, please pick up the pastries that Ms. Cho ordered at the food hall,” he instructs his chauffeur. “She’s too busy right now.”

“Will do, Mr. Jeon.”

Taking minutes of a meeting when you’re starving is not a good thing. You know this because you’ve done this so many times, like during monthly executive meetings and the quarterly board meetings that have you spread out thin. It’s also not rare to miss out on lunch because there’s a report to finish or a site to visit; during events, you go on a day with having barely eaten anything.

But just because you’re used to it, it doesn’t mean that your body has fully adapted, because here you are, eyeing the croissants in front of you, your mouth watering at the gloss and softness of the pastry. They’re so tempting and also out of reach, given that you need to be entirely focused on the discussion that you’re documenting, and munching on something is out of the question. You don’t even know where this is from and you think maybe the design department called for snacks but it’s really not helping your concentration.

You hope the way you’re nibbling your lips doesn’t give you away, but Yoongi from across the table picks it up, as you get a notification of his message.

[From: Min Yoongi] you didn’t have lunch, did you?

You ignore the prompt on your laptop and respond to him with a look instead. You know your pouty lips will give him his answer, and he merely shakes his head at the confirmation.

You do your best to shut out the sight and scent of the food before you, absorbing instead the discussion so you can note this down properly with just minimal edits needed. You have a lot of documents to work on for the next few days after all, and that’s on top of the file reorganization that Jungkook asked you to do.

It works after you hang on by a thread for two and a half hours, a little earlier than you expected to finish. All you want is to sneak out that croissant and maybe some tarts, too, but your heart breaks when you look up and find the boxes empty.

You let out a sigh, relieved that your boss didn’t hear you because he’s already on the phone and heading out the door. But it’s that same time that a plate of food appears in front of you, and it feels like the gates of heaven have opened. You’re not surprised anymore to find out who it’s from.

“Eat,” Yoongi says from next to you. “I could see your hands shaking from across the table.”

“What about you?” You ask, your lips in a pout once more.

“You know I don’t eat these things,” he shrugs.

He doesn’t, and you know this, too. You also know he called dibs on these earlier, seeing as his staff were quick to get them, and he’d saved these so he could give them to you.

“Ten years later and you’re still trying to make sure I eat, huh?” You say, nudging him with your hips to tease.

“If I don’t, who would?” He responds, walking out of the conference room with you. “You have a bad habit of not doing that.”

“Well, duty calls. What can I do?”

“Take care of yourself even if it’s hard,” he replies.

“Says the man who rarely does it himself,” you chuckle.

“You know, the best advice I give are the ones I don’t actually follow, so disregard the fact that I don’t even do what I say because they apparently work,” he says. “But I mean it, ___. Eat this now.”

“Thanks, Yoongi,” you smile, taking a piece of pastry and eating it in two bites.

Your puffed out cheeks cause him to laugh, and despite still being hungry after this, you suppose it’s enough to not make you faint at this moment.

“And eat a proper dinner, okay?” He follows up.

“I’ll be off late, so I’ll just grab something from the convenience store,” you say. “That’s as proper as I can afford tonight.”

“Aish, fine,” he shakes his head. “But let me get you coffee at least. Those tarts won’t taste as good without one.”

“That would be life-saving,” you dramatically say. “What did I do to deserve a friend like you?”

“Don’t know. I mean, I’m not that great,” he shrugs.

You playfully roll your eyes. “I’ll save the compliments once I have the coffee.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he feigns annoyance, gesturing for you to get back to your desk then walking the other direction.

You take your seat and clean up the document, deciding that you’ll just review the meeting minutes tomorrow so you can get on with other pressing matters. It’s 20 minutes later when Yoongi returns, a tall cup of coffee on one hand and a banana loaf on the other.

“This is all they have left,” he says. “I hope it can last you until tonight.”

“It will,” you smile. “Thank you again. No one looks out for me here as much as you do. And that means a lot, more than you know. I don’t think I would’ve survived all these years without you.”

“Wow, all because of coffee and snacks,” he laughs, teasing.

“It’s a fair trade. You feed me during my greatest need, I boost your ego,” you tease back.

“Yeah, whatever,” Yoongi huffs in submission, but you know he enjoys it.

You’re thankful that after everything that’s happened, you’re still able to maintain the friendship that you created when you were a mere intern and he was just starting out his career.

“Anyway, I’m quickly meeting Jungkook and I need the portfolio of the contemporary arts institution joint project from 2019. It was VP-led so I assume it’s still here? Unless it’s in the archive room,” he continues.

“It’s within five years so it should be here,” you say, turning to the shelf behind you to confirm.

You spot what you need and make the attempt to pull it out but your fingers barely even touch the rack.

“Need help?” Yoongi asks.

“And what help could you give, huh?” You tease again, earning you a playful groan.

“You brat.”

You laugh and pull out the small stool you keep for times like this.

“Just make sure I don’t fall and embarrass myself further today,” you say, climbing up the steps then pulling out the heavy folder.

You feel Yoongi’s arm move from where it was near your waist to over your head, as he lightens the load. You both try to balance it and laugh at your distorted faces in the process, and it’s moments of relief like this one that you’re glad you’re afforded after a long day like today.

From inside the room, Jungkook sees you through the window, your eyes crinkling as you laugh along with Yoongi, head of the design department and one of his very few friends in the company. It catches him off guard, as he realizes that since meeting you last Friday, he’s never seen you laugh, much less smile or even have an expression that isn’t agitated or serious.

He knows that that’s probably on him. He’d spoken ill of you after all, something he regretted once he saw the frustration on your face when you made it known that you were in the room with them and had definitely heard everything he said. But he’d been tired and HR confirmed that he could bring Lucas over as his assistant; CEO Jeon was the one who vetoed that decision.

Jungkook had already mentally prepared himself for the ease of his transition, knowing that he’d be assisted by someone who knows how he works and the quality of outputs he expects, only to come here and be told by his father that the current staff will stay, and that you - someone he’d only heard of as Hoseok’s assistant - will be the one assisting him from now on. Your resume didn’t even impress him.

Jungkook doesn’t like change and when he has to undergo it, he needs as much of what was familiar and convenient to remain; that’s the only bit of control he can have and he hates not being in control of things. You just happened to unluckily be at the receiving end of his anger.

But unlike what he expected, you stood up to him in the subtle ways you could. He’s been so used to people just following him, partly because his way is always the best but also because he commands that respect, and he knows his capabilities enough to know that he deserves it as well. So when you answered back, he felt rattled and just a little bit uneasy. He was unable to backtrack after, but he didn’t really plan to.

That doesn’t mean that he didn’t plan on being a bit of a jerk today, too. He’d been exhausted working over the weekend after going through all the files you gave him that he snoozed his alarm so many times and ended up doing his workout later than he intended. When you rang the doorbell and stood by his door with your skirt and satin top, he suddenly felt lightheaded.

He mentally smacked himself once the thought that your pastel colored outfit brought out your eyes more than the monochrome ensemble from last week floated in his head. He just hated that not only are you thorough with your work, you have to be beautiful, too. He’d never admit to anyone that both of those things make him nervous, and it’s the only reason why he thinks he needs to establish his authority so that he doesn’t get rattled the next time you counter him.

That’s why he demanded more work, which he didn’t intend to take up so much of your time, like your lunch break. He’d seen how your hands shook while you were taking notes during the meeting, prompting him to end the meeting early so you can have something to eat of what he’d bought but he’d left before he could find out if there was anything left for you.

Maybe there wasn’t enough, as he also witnessed Yoongi hand you what seemed like food with coffee that the man also got for you just minutes ago. The smile you gave him was bright and sincere. Jungkook doesn’t think he’d ever see that directed at him, considering how he’d been to you on his first day, but maybe that’s also good; that could be his defense. Maybe it’d help quell that initial attraction that he doesn’t want and cannot allow at all to grow.

It doesn’t mean it doesn’t agitate him to see you a bit too close with his friend, because with the way you seem so comfortable and with the way that Yoongi sports that rare smile, it almost feels like there’s something there.

Jungkook is the son of the CEO, and having personal relationships within the company isn’t exactly advisable, but he’d gone to university with Yoongi and their introverted personalities instantly clicked. The older man is perhaps the only non-relative company employee that Jungkook kept in touch with when he was in Singapore, not that he even really talked much to his family outside of work anyway.

But in all the years of their friendship, his friend never mentioned any relationship - nor the makings of one - with another staff member. Jungkook hates how his curiosity is slowly getting to him. Maybe a few more moments would tell him more, but something about the scene happening outside his room is making him nervous and uneasy, so he decides to step in.

“Hey, Yoon,” he says as he opens the door. “Can we discuss now? I have to meet my parents for dinner in an hour.”

Your bubble with Yoongi bursts at the sound of Jungkook’s voice, and you immediately return to your seat. Your friend nods at you then enters the room, leaving you the peace and quiet you need to plop down on the floor for a quick snack of your loaf before going back to work, glancing inside every once in a while to see how the two are going, and perhaps confirm the friendship that you didn’t expect the two would have.

“This building is a good starting point,” Yoongi agrees with Jungkook. “If this is the general feel you want for the Arts Center, I can look into other projects and designs and come up with ideas. I’ll just ask ___ for the files I need.”

“You two seem close,” Jungkook says too quickly.

Leaning back against the chair, Yoongi processes the question that he didn’t expect he’d hear. More than that, he tries to read what’s underneath it, knowing that his friend’s tone of voice and feigned stoic expression mean something more.

“You could say that,” Yoongi replies. “She did say that no one’s looked out for her here as much as I have. And that she wouldn’t have survived all these years without me.”

“So you’re actually friends?”

“Yes.”

“Were you more?”

Yoongi chuckles, the question giving him the answer he’s looking for. Jungkook may often be too serious but he can be transparent sometimes, too.

“Does it matter?” The older man asks.

“Just don’t want to be surprised, that’s all,” Jungkook shrugs. “If there’s an employee relationship happening under my nose, I should at least know.”

“It happens here a lot,” Yoongi responds. “I mean, it gives people something to gossip about but it’s how things are - work sucks sometimes and we want someone to hold at the end of a terrible day.”

Feeling like he won’t get an answer to a question that Jungkook doesn’t know why he felt the need to ask in the first place, he just shakes his head to concede.

But it’s what prompts Yoongi to reply.

“We met when she was just an intern,” he says. “We used to take the same bus then found out we both came from Daegu. Then she was employed and we were both on the logistics team before I was reassigned and she got the EA role.”

Jungkook merely hums, taking in the information.

“I also asked her out before,” Yoongi continues, earning him a surprised look from the younger man. “You just can’t help what you feel sometimes, you know? But she turned me down, said she didn’t want to lead me on because she didn’t feel anything more. She also doesn’t like being involved with a co-worker, so yeah.”

“How are you still friends?”

“Asks the guy who’s still friends with his ex,” Yoongi laughs.

“Chaerin and I are civil, there’s a difference. And we haven’t spoken in years.”

“You loved her, though,” Yoongi counters. “I never got to that point.”

“This isn’t about me,” Jungkook huffs.

Knowing it’s a topic that his friend doesn’t like talking about, Yoongi relents. “I moved on. That was years ago,” he says. “And it seemed like she needed someone. I mean, she’s not from here and her friends aren’t here, either. She appreciated the friendship even if she said she didn’t think she deserved it. I guess that made me really get over her, you know? That’s all she wanted and needed from me; it was better than not having her around.”

“How brave,” Jungkook remarks.

“You mean mature?” Yoongi corrects. “Yes, that’s what I am, and it’s the best I could be for her. Especially since she’s got a boss who makes her miss lunch because somehow, there’s just so much to do for your first day on the job.”

“Don’t remind me,” Jungkook groans.

“I will. Only so you could feel bad.”

“I already do. That’s why I…”

“Bought the pastries,” Yoongi finishes. “I mean, I didn’t order them.”

“Was any even left for her?” Jungkook sighs, remembering how he was internally screaming for you to just get from the box and he’d been the jerk to not offer you some even if it was technically for you.

“Sort of. I put some aside for myself so I could give them to her.”

“You sure you don’t like her anymore?” Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, an attempt to hide his uneasiness over something he doesn’t understand. He finds you attractive, that’s it. He doesn’t know why his mind searches for more answers.

“You don’t have to like someone romantically to be nice to them, you know?” Yoongi responds. “And she needed it. Heavens know the support she’d need now that she has to deal with your rude ass.”

Jungkook sighs, but the remark is a welcome one because he did tell Yoongi not to treat him differently just because he’s the Vice President now. He also partly agrees. But he sees the effort; his friend wouldn’t call him out for how he does things, so the most he would do is offer help to you. And Jungkook could maybe take advantage of that, as Yoongi stands up to leave.

“Hey, could you, uh, grab dinner for her at the food hall? And not say it’s from me?”

“The food hall’s closed,” Yoongi says.

“The cafe down the street, then?”

“You can’t be fucking serious,” the older man groans.

But Yoongi knows his friend, knows the distance he creates from the people around him, knows his need to have control over everything, including his feelings, and knows the walls he builds because it’s easier to keep others out rather than do the hard task of letting them into a space that’s become comfortable because he’s been the only one inside for so long.

So Yoongi does as he’s asked. He takes the money then heads to the cafe to order pork cutlets and curry. He returns and sets them on your desk to your surprise, and you ask what it’s for.

“Just thought you deserve more than just convenience store instant noodles and gimbap given the day you’ve had,” he says.

“Hey, those are delicious,” you pout, but wanting to melt at how good the rice bowl smells. “But thank you, again. I owe you a lot, Yoongi. I mean it.”

“Just make sure to eat on time so I don’t have to buy your dinner again,” he teases. “I mean it. You have to stay healthy, okay?”

“Okay,” you smile brightly. “Get home safe tonight.”

Jungkook glances out the window and holds back a smile himself at how innocent and genuinely happy you look. There’s this joy that you seem to enjoy to yourself and he sees that, he understands that. And somehow that’s enough to lessen the guilt for now.

He still doesn’t know if he’ll ever see that smile directed at him or if he’d ever want that because of how disarming it is. But seeing it from afar is enough; it’s trivial and short enough to let him bask in it without having to climb out of his walls. He’ll watch you from behind, he thinks. He just wishes he doesn’t push you away in the process.

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cosmictheo · 2 years

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𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 | 𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐲𝐚𝐦

(gif credits to @peace--n--love)

— summary: ao'nung calls you the way neteyam usually calls you, which makes him feel jealous and insecure, but that finally pushes him to confess something he has been feeling for too long. — pairing: neteyam x female!na'vi!reader — word count: 2k —warnings: pure and comforting fluff, ao'nung being ao'nung (an idiot), love confessions, jealous!neteyam, neteyam being the purest and most beautiful angel.

* Neteyam is aged up, for obvious reasons, of course; he is 19 years old. * Sluyang means flower.

neteyam's playlist i made for inspo

writer's note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!

You liked to observe the beauty that Eywa gave to Pandora, you were still surprised by how beautiful the forest and the places it could hide, even after having grown up there and having been all those years among its leafy trees, even so, the forest hid secret and beautiful places, worthy of being seen and found by only those chosen ones.

Your mother was sure that you had a special connection with Eywa, practically since the day you were born and opened your eyes for the first time, green as a pair of emeralds. She told you that you had come into the world for a purpose, that you were Eywa's chosen one, in fact, those were her last words to you before she passed away in your arms, haunted all her life by an illness from which she never got better. And since then, Jake and Neytiri had taken care of you, accepting you into their family as if you had always been one of them. You soon became close to their children, especially with Neteyam, as you were close in age.

And because of that special fascination you had for the forest and nature in general, Neteyam made a habit of always bringing you things from his many explorations and hunts, things that reminded him of you; flowers, leaves and even rocks, bright and beautiful, out of the ordinary, that stood out among everything else, just like you.

“You don't have to, 'Teyam.” You always said every time he came to you once again with a new gift. But he would simply shake his head, offering you a charming and gentle little smile, ever so kind, ears slightly bent and gaze so bright every time he met yours that it seemed to dazzle you, leaving you completely mesmerized.

With a coy smile you tried to avert your gaze from his, analyzing the object now in your hands. “Really, it's not necessary.”

“I like to do it.” He would simply reply, seeking your gaze with his big, captivating, coaxing eyes, as if it were something insignificant, something that didn't matter, something that wasn't like the nicest thing anyone had ever done for you. And you would do nothing but grin at him. You couldn't stop smiling, your cheeks felt almost numb, but you were happy, content, he made you happy. And you knew that this, in the long run, would bring serious consequences, not so good, you supposed.

And now, in the huge ocean, when you thought nothing would surprise you anymore, Eywa seemed to turn every assumption you had upside down. Jake had taken you with him and his family to the place where the Metkayina Clan lived, leaving the Omaticaya behind, leaving the shelter that the forest offered you, to now be surrounded by the ocean; salt water and sandy land.

They had been kind enough to accept you into their home and to show you their ways, noting the great difference from your own, but, apparently the younger members of the clan were not as friendly to strangers as the older ones.

Ao'nung had been rather harsh with you, especially Kiri, whom they had addressed as a freak, as they had nicknamed her, and from there, the problem grew larger, for you and Lo'ak had taken up against them in her defense.

“Look at her.” Ao'nung called out, following Kiri like prey, looking at her with big, disgusted eyes. “Is she a freak or something?”

“Don't call her that.” You stated in a not at all friendly tone, scowl and defiant eyes looking up at the chief's son, pointing at him with your index finger and thus causing him to move backwards. “You have no right to call her that, did you hear me? The Chief's son or not, I'll kick your ass.”

With a tilt of your head, you stated the threat, making him snort ungraciously, looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

“For such a pretty little girl, you sure have a big mouth.” His big eyes narrowed as he spoke, demonstrating a smug attitude as he heard a couple of snickers from his little friends at his words. “You are one of us, little flower. Why you waste your time hanging out with these aliens?”

“Hey!” Lo'ak exclaimed, appearing at your side, fists clenched and face angry. “Don't call her that, get away from her!”

“Please, leave us alone.” Kiri grumbled behind your back, hearing how now, you were the target of annoyance from the little group.

Your mouth hung open wide, totally offended now, feeling the fury shake your body from head to toe, your tail wagging angrily as you lunged at him at the same time you heard an 'oh uh' from Lo'ak.

But your movement was halted as you watched as a body larger than yours stepped between you and the bully, leaving you in view of nothing but a broad back you knew all too well and blocking Ao'nung's smug, sneering face from your view.

“That's enough.” Neteyam said in a stern tone, deep voice and tense body, always as diplomatic and calm as ever, braids moving under the command of the wind and his head, which rose slightly, giving him a more stern and much more menacing stance. “As long as we are here you will treat my family with respect and call no one by other than their names.”

His head moved so that he could look at the faces of the little group that had formed, friends of Ao'nung, as silly as he was, apparently, but who, in Neteyam's presence, seemed to have been brought back to reality and put back in their places. They were not so foolish after all, they knew that against him they would have no choice but to flee. Cowards.

“(Y/N) is just fine for you, got it?”

“Whatever.” Ao'nung replied, rolling his eyes and starting to walk, bumping his shoulder against Neteyam's as he walked past him, his eyes met yours for a couple of seconds and he offered you a smirk, making you grunt and by the time you could take a step towards him, a hand found itself on your forearm, stopping any act of violence you had planned to do.

“Cowards.” Kiri spat, rolling her eyes.

When you looked back, Neteyam was looking at you with eyes, dark, but now filled with concern, his fingers barely caressing your skin before he pulled away from your arm.

“Are you okay, syulang?”

You rolled your eyes, sighing heavily. “I'd be better if I'd beaten that skxawng—”

“Hey.” He interrupted you, noticing how your ears were still bent and your tail twitching behind your back and he laid both of his hands on your shoulders now, in an attempt to reassure you, giving you delicate petting strokes. “It's okay, it's all over now.” His gaze traveled to his siblings behind you, moving his head and face transforming to one of authority, chin up. His voice came through loud and clear, almost scolding. “Home, now. You've had a lot for today.”

Lo'ak lifted his hands, looking incredulous. “But they were bugging-”

Neteyam was quick to interrupt him. “Home. We will talk to father later.”

The younger boy let out a snarl and without further ado, began walking back to where his family was staying, followed closely by Kiri, who kept a glum face, arms crossed over her chest.

And now, all of Neteyam's attention landed on you, as it naturally did, as his body always seemed to do instinctively, even though he didn't even intend to, he always focused on you, as if you were the center of the universe, the sun of his world, the core of his heart, the magnet of his mind and the horizon of his eyes. He saw you. He had always seen you. And practically everyone in his family knew, perhaps everyone on the whole planet, except for you, of course.

Neteyam had expressly refused any offer or even, even idea from his parents to find him a Tsahik as his position as the future leader of the clan, it was his duty and it behoved him to follow to the letter the duty that rested on his shoulders as the future chief, but now, all that had been left behind with his leaving. Now all he cared about having was you. All that mattered was you.

With a beautiful sunset behind him, he began to speak to you once again, hands gently running over your shoulders and arms, becoming more attentive, affectionate, but still concerned. His brow furrowed slightly and you knew immediately that a scolding was coming now. “What were you thinking, hm? Fighting them all?”

He was always like that with you, especially when you were alone together. Neteyam never felt he was enough for his father, and he too never seemed to be satisfied of him, let alone see all that his son did for his family, for his siblings and for him, but with you, with you everything was different, he could be different, he could be himself and he knew that was enough for you, you made him feel enough, you made him feel special.

“If that's what I had to do for protecting Kiri, Lo'ak and their family's honor, of course.” You answered immediately and with your words, sounding so sure and affirmative, Neteyam felt his heart be flooded with a most familiar warmth, an emotion quite well-known to him whenever you were near him and said things such as those, always putting others before yourself, putting the welfare of his family before yourself.

A smile tugged at Neteyam's lips, admiring you with bright, big eyes, his hands trailing down your shoulders, sliding down your arms to your hands, taking them between his own tenderly, fingers toying with yours absentmindedly as he watched the clear size difference.

“He called you little flower.” Neteyam stated after a silence of a couple of seconds, twisting his head. His jaw was clenched and ears barely tilted back. “I call you that.”

You bit your lower lip, holding back the smile that threatened to curve your lips at his clear display of jealousy. He was upset about it and you had to reassure him. Your fingers caressed his wrist, tracing imaginary lines down his forearm. “I like it better when you do it.”

“I sure hope so.” He smiled again and tugged on your hand, inviting you to walk with him, both of your hands tangled between his arm, and he didn't waste a second in drawing you to him. “I want to show you something.”

. . .

Neteyam had found the spot walking along the local beach, it was a bit far from the place where his family was staying and it was far from the town in general, but that made it a perfect location. It was a small bay, surrounded by coastal vegetation, a couple of palm trees and soft silky sand, but what was really amazing, was the glows of bioluminescence under the clear ocean water, algae of all colors, small animals swimming, with the sunset light bathing exquisitely over the turquoise sea.

It was beautiful, of course. But your reaction at the sight of it was even better; mouth half-open, eyes huge and amazed, face in wonder.

“'Yam… it's beautiful.” You murmured in a soft, barely audible tone of voice, but he was right next to you, as close to you as possible, so he could hear you perfectly. His fingers were intertwined with yours and he pulled you with him across the sand to the perfect place to sit.

“Yes it is. I found it as I was passing by... I immediately thought of you.” His gaze lowered with a hint of embarrassment flashing across his pretty face. “I know how much you love nature, all the things our great mother has given us, so, I thought, you would like it.” He stated and then shrugged, attitude becoming quite braggy now. “I've seen more beautiful things, though.”

You rolled your eyes, pushing your shoulder against his in amusement as you wrapped your arms around your knees, admiring the scenery in front of you. “Don't lie now.”

“I'm serious.” He laughed, looking up at you, analyzing every expression on your pretty face. “I'm no liar, you know that.”

You raised an eyebrow, turning your head so you could look at him now. “Really, huh? So what have you seen? What possibly have you seen prettier than this?”

Neteyam smiled thinly, stirring his arm lightly, his hand passed down your back, resting on the sand, fingers fiddling with it. “Something prettier than this?”

“Hm.” You hummed, looking at him curiously.

His ears perked up, gaze dropping to his lap, steeling himself inside, trying his hardest to calm the nerves that were practically eating him alive. And then, he moved his eyes up your body, until he met yours. “I'm looking at it right now.”

Your breath hitched and your mouth parted, feeling your body freeze. Your arms fell to either side of your body, adjusting your position.

“Nete…” You whispered in a shaky voice.

“Yes, sluyang?” He tilted his head softly. “I'm being honest.” He swallowed saliva, his hand trailing up your arm, caressing your shoulder and tracing your jaw, down to rest on your cheek, fingers tracing every inch of skin he could, arranging your hair and tucking it behind your ear. “I've always seen you as the most beautiful thing…” His lips trembled, faltering for a few moments. “I see you, (Y/N).”

You closed your eyes and rested your forehead against his, nuzzling his nose against yours. “I see you too, Neteyam.”

He closed his eyes too, caressing your face with his. “When that idiot called you flower and treated you that way… like you were nothing.” His hands cradled your face now, and you rose up to face him, completely silent, breathing agitatedly. He was breathing in an agitated way too, looking frustrated, disturbed. “I was furious. They should respect you. Every one of them should know that you are mine and they should treat you as such, as my equal, as my mate.”

You opened your eyes to find his eyes already on you, your fingers stroking his arms subconsciously. Your lips brushed his as you opened your mouth to speak in an agitated voice. “I want to be yours, Neteyam.”

“I can't pretend anymore.” He declared between shaky breaths, gaze traveling between your eyes and mouth as he shook his head. “I don't care what anyone else says, I don't want anyone else. I have already chosen. I just want you, (Y/N)... I was made for you.”

“Then just take me.” You murmured against his lips before joining them with yours in a needy, agitated kiss that felt as if everything at last, made sense, as if life had been created just for this moment, as if you had been brought to life just this moment, for each other.

It felt as if all the constellations had aligned for you, as if you had all the stars just for you, and that was given just once, you knew. Everything made you feel as if Ewya had created you for each other. You were made for each other and perhaps the Great Mother had aligned the whole universe for it, for you.

“I am yours.” He promised. “I always have been.”

Your legs tangled between his as you landed on his lap, being drawn in by his arms chaining themselves around your body, massaging your waist, tattooing his touch on your skin.

“Forever.”

#avatar x reader #neteyam x reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x you #neteyam imagine #neteyam one shot #neteyam sully #sully family #neteyam x female!reader #neteyam x f reader #avatar: the way of water #avatar #avatar: twow #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam x female reader #neteyam #na'vi reader #lo'ak sully #cosmictheo

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elllisaaa · 7 months

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LOST THE GAME - JAKE. S

SUMMARY : what was supposed to be the least interesting class of your semester turned out to be the most passionating one when you met jake sim and his tendency to tease. but two could play a game, right ?

-> pairing : college mate!jake x fem!reader

-> words count : 15k

-> genre : college au, smut

-> warnings : switch!jake x switch!reader, teasing, dirty talk, sexting, phone sex, mutual masturbation, praising, dry humping, marking, hair pulling, doggy, unprotected sex, creampie, body worship, use of 'good girl', 'good boy' and 'slut', oral (f. and m. receiving), deep throating, cum play, manhandling, quick mention of choking, fingering, begging, riding, panties sniffing, jake is down bad for yn (yes, that's a warning), nipple play, jake is asking consent a lot and it's sexy.

+ the way i'm depicting jake does not represent him, it's only a work of fiction.

-> 18+ content bellow, minors dni

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language

-> author's note : here we are, my not so little gift for you for valentine's day ! i hadn't planned something at first, but it turned out that i finished this not too long before so i decided to post it on this day. it's the first really long fic that i'm posting here, but i enjoy writing them so much ! shoot out to @xhdream that started it all by sending me a gif of jake during our christmas family gathering and messed with my mind 😭😔. this ended up being really self-indulgent but i hope you'll like it as much as i do !

-> masterlist | enha masterlist

PLAYLIST

🎵 lost the game by two feet

🎶 meddle about by chase atlantic

🎵 i'll make you love me by kat leon

🎶 more by i.m

🎵 it's not easy for you by misamo

🎶 more than friends by isabel la rosa

Leaving all your friends and family for college was not easy. Your freshman year was really hard, having to manage your classes and doing a part time job to be able to afford your rant, and being in a brand new city you didn’t know anything about, nor had any friends to help and support you. You felt on the edge of giving up just before your finals, but that was when you met your best friend, Yeji. She really was a gift, always smiley and willing to cheer you up. Without her, you really didn’t know if you could have continued university, or got your life back together at all.

But now, here you were, currently in your third year at college, happy and confident about your future. And you really didn’t want to mess it up, so you remained serious, and worked hard to have the grades you got. Even if for some people, psychology was not a “real” major, it was for you, and it was what you wanted to do for your whole life. And you sometimes wondered how they could say that when you had to take science classes. At first, you were not so excited to follow them, thinking that it would be just another thing you would have to study just for the exams and never remember again, but someone made you change your mind.

Jake was not in the same major as you, that was why you didn’t see him before the start of this semester but he immediately caught your eyes. Well, it would have been hard not to notice him, or you would’ve been blind, because he was really good looking. He was the cliché of the hot college fuckboy, the one so many rumors were spread about, the one who had supposedly hooked up with half of the campus.

Despite that, you were not one to have prejudices against people you didn’t know, so you gave him a chance, mainly because he was attractive and exactly your type, and also because he seemed to be the only other student to be invested in this class. Surprisingly, he was always participating, sometimes before you even had the chance to do so, and he was doing his work everytime. And so on, he became even more your type because smart people were automatically the most fuckable in your eyes.

However, you tried to not let your interest in him show. It seemed like he already had an ego, you were not here to fuel it even more. So you stuck to staring at him during your shared classes, under the excuse that you were only closely listening to his answers to your professor's questions. That was until he suddenly decided to sit down by your side on one random Thursday.

“- Is that seat taken, or can I ?”

You lifted your head, even if you had grown familiar to the sound of his voice by now, seeing Jake, waiting for your approval with a grin on his face. Well, he was asking kindly and really, you could not refuse to have your crush sit with you. You simply nobbed, taking off your bag from the chair so he could sit down.

“- Thanks !

- No problem.”

Regardless of the confidence you were trying to keep on, you were feeling incredibly nervous. It was the first time you and Jake were this close. Sure, you had talked to each other before, picking up on something one of you had said in class to add other information or to correct each other. But that was it, nothing more. So to suddenly have him so close to you was very strange, but at the same time, you were giddy, like a high-schooler confessing her love to her first crush.

“- Did you understand the paper we had to read for today ?”

Jake's voice straddled you as you were lost in your thoughts, but you quickly composed yourself again, doing your best to hold his intense gaze.

“- Yeah. Or at least, I think so, but I struggled a little bit at first. Why did you want to know ?

- Well, you’re the only one except me that seems to give a damn about this class, and you’re smart, so I thought that maybe you could help me, because I didn’t understand anything !”

You chuckled at the defeated tone he used for his last words, perfectly getting his disappointment of not assimilating a new thing immediately, it was frustrating. But at the same time, butterflies erupted in your stomach at the thought of Jake having noticed you. And he was saying you were smart on top of that ? What started as a not so good day was turning into a much better one.

“- Of course, no problem. We have some time left before Mr. Lee arrives, so maybe we could go over the paper and you stop me every time there’s something you didn’t get ?

- Works for me ! Thank you Y/N.”

The way he said your name had you fighting demons not to blush and try to concentrate on bacteria and immune system instead of his bright smile and beautiful face. But it was not easy to stay focused when he brought his chair closer to yours so he could have a better view of the drawings you were making to materialize what was explained in the paper. You could feel Jake’s warmth through your clothes and it was so hard to resist the urge to turn your head and just look at him. Thanks to some magical forces surely, you got to the end of it when your professor entered the classroom, greeting his students.

“- It’s so much easier when you explain everything to me, you’re very good at that, you know ?”

And he was at it again with the compliments, and you were trying to repress a stupid smile from eating up your face once again, whispering when you answered him in order not disturb Mr. Lee, who had already started today’s lesson.

“- I’m glad I could help.”

Jake's response came in the way of a smile before the two of you started to take notes of what your professor was saying, not having much time to discuss throughout the class. These lectures were always very intense but also very interesting, so you didn’t mind the fast rhythm with which you were approaching each subject. You thought about asking Jake his number at the end of the class, just in case he had another problem with something related to this class of course ! A few years back, you wouldn’t even have dared to consider something like that, but right now you were thinking “why not ?” If anything, he would say no and end of the story. So as you were packing up your things, you started to get your phone out when you were interrupted by Jake once again.

“- I have a class now, but if I could have your number it would be very helpful, because there’s still some things I can’t get a grasp of, if you don’t mind of course !”

You smiled back, taking his phone and typing your number in the new contact he had created before handing the device back to him.

“- Actually, I was going to give it to you anyway. You’re pretty smart too, and you’re funny so it’s not a waste of time.”

Jake chuckled as he put his phone in his back pocket after checking the time. He was going to be late to his next class, but who cared when he finally got to talk to the girl he had a crush on since the beginning of the year ? Certainly not him.

“- I’ll make it worth it, promise ! Huh, I really have to go but I’ll text you later pretty.”

With a wink, he was gone and left you behind with a beating heart and a stupidly big grin stretching out your lips.

From this day on, Jake sat next to you every time you shared your science classes. And even if the seat was empty last week because Yeji was sick that day, she happily let the guy take her place with a knowing look on her face, wiggling her eyebrows every time he walked in and greeted you. You acted annoyed every time, but really, it was funny how supportive she was - sometimes, you worried that she was more excited about the whole situation than yourself.

“- Is it Jakey again ?”

You rolled your eyes as you picked up your phone from the kitchen counter where Yeji and you had spread all your work sheets and textbooks to study. It was Sunday, and you often reserved it to work together and then relax with a movie, while doing each other's skincare and gossiping.

When you first came to the city for college, you had rented a small apartment with another girl you didn’t know. At the end of your freshman year, she left and since Yeji was searching for a new place to stay because her last roommate was insufferable, you had proposed to her that you live together. She really was the best friend you could ask for, and also the best roommate. But sometimes, just sometimes, you wished she didn’t know you so well as she fake gaged when you laughed at the last text Jake had, indeed, sent to you. You wrote a quick answer before going back to your cognitive psychology assignment.

“- And what if it is him ? You’re jealous ?

- Of a man ? Never !”

Both of you laughed at her remark, not able to hold back yourselves after being focused for such a long time and having spent the whole afternoon studying.

“- No but seriously, what do you think of him ?”

You were not one to let other people direct the way you acted or lead you on to choices you wouldn’t have made by yourself but you valued Yeji’s opinion, and she always had something to say about your crushes. Sensing that the subject was no longer meaningless, your best friend put her pen down, thinking for some time about your question.

“- Well, you know all the rumors about him right ?”

You nodded. Of course you knew, especially since you started to talk with Jake two months ago, you paid a lot more attention to the conversations of other students about him. They were all saying that he was a typical frat boy, going to parties, not caring about going to school, and fooling around with every girl he found attractive. But you already knew that a part of that was not true. He was often sending you some parts of texts or lessons he didn’t understand for you to explain, he was really invested in what he was doing, and he had even told you that he was not here to skip classes.

“- And you also know that Lia is friends with his roommate Jay ?”

Again, you nobbed. You knew Lia too, because she was one of Yeji’s childhood friends. You were a little less close to her but she really was a very sweet girl, and you loved to spend time with her.

“- She told me that Jake was not how everyone is depicting him. Apparently, it’s only because he’s spending time with Heeseung and his frat, and because he hooked up with a random girl at a party during our freshman year. And from there, people created him a reputation, and he never really tried to deny it because, well, everyone would assume that based on his looks and who he’s hanging out with.

- I guess, yeah. I thought that too when I first met him. And that doesn’t surprise me, he cares too much about his studies to be a frat boy.”

Yeji laughed again, detaching her long, ginger, hair from the hair clip that was holding them in place.

“- I agree, he’s too smart too, and too sweet with you. He genuinely seems like a good guy, and not every guy out there gets your humor so…”

You threw a random highlighter in her direction, pretending to be vexed by her comment.

“- And I didn’t see you smile so much since that dick left you this summer, so I sadly have to validate him.”

Yeji let out a defeated sigh while shaking her head, making you smile again. It was true that you had a hard time because of your “ex”, if you could really label him like that. He was just a guy you met at a party just after your finals were over, and from there, you started to be in some kind of situationship, that was becoming serious for you, but not for him apparently since he left you over a single text and not even an apology. But you were fully over it now, and ready to welcome someone in your life - and bed - again.

“- I’m glad you’re thinking the same.”

She simply gave you a smile before stretching her arms over her head, repressing a yawn as she did so.

“- I’m thinking about wrapping up this study session and getting on to the movie.

- Oh my god, yes, thank you ! My brain stopped working one hour ago !”

You both started to tidy up the counter, putting your sheets back in your binder and your pens back in your case.

“- You order while I’m hopping in the shower ?

- No problem ! Pizza and sushi ?

- You know me so well !”

You giggled as Yeji disappeared in her room, closing the door behind her and letting you finish with your mess. When your phone received another notification, you picked it up again, not holding back your smile when you saw Jake’s contact name popping up this time.

jakey : wow ! working on a sunday ? you have a stronger will than me ! you : ahah only because i’m not doing it alone ! otherwise, i would lie in my bed all day, not doing anything lmao what are you doing ? jakey : [attachement : 1 image] just relaxing while watching a movie it’s pretty boring tho…

You were not expecting this photo to be a shirtless one of Jake, sprawled out on his bed, and looking at the camera with a pout on his face. You had to pick up your jaw from the floor and mentally stop yourself from drooling over his abs, and his chest, and his arms, and the gray sweatpants hanging low on his waist. Was that flirting ? It was, for sure. Why would he send you that if it wasn’t ? But how could you respond to that ? Sending a picture of the same type seemed a little too provocative, and you didn’t want to interpret the signs wrong. If he was doing this after only two months, what would he be willing to do in a few weeks ? You were curious to see how far he would go to seduce you.

jake : why are you not answering pretty ? too busy checking me out ? 😉 you : in your dreams. jake : oh yeah, don’t worry about that, my dreams are already filled with your cute face.

You didn’t dare ask him what he meant by that, busying your mind by ordering your dinner and trying to get the image of Jake’s chest out of your mind.

The whole task of not getting your hopes up revealed to be a lot more difficult than you thought it would be when the universe seemed to team up against you. Or at least, you saw it like that as your professor was listing the groups for the new project of the semester.

“- Y/N and Jake, I want you two together for this. Usually, I’d put you in a weaker group to help but I’m very curious to see what you can do when working hand in hand. And that’s all for today everyone, I’ll see you next week and don’t forget to tell me the angle your presentation will address.”

You couldn’t believe that Mr. Lee really did this. It was not that you were horrified by the idea of having to work with Jake, it was the contrary, really, but it also meant spending a lot of time together, because you wanted your presentation to be perfect. You would have to go to the library together, or go work at his dorm, or invite him to your apartment, and all that will certainly not help you to stop your little - or rather big - crush on him, and neither will it help you to stay focused.

“- You don’t seem so delighted by the news, pretty.”

His voice interrupted your thoughts, and you lifted your head to meet his pouty face, the one he always had on when he was trying to get your attention. It was cute. And his puppy eyes were too. And there, you were feeling all fuzzy inside once again.

“- Who would be delighted to know that we have a presentation that counts for half of the final note to do before the end of the month ?

- When you put it this way… But I was not really talking about that.”

You sighed as you stood up, checking the time because you had to join Lia and Yeji at your favourite café soon.

“- I know Jake. I have to go but I’ll text you later to let you know when I am free so we can start to work on that. Bye.”

Jake stood there, mouth slightly open as if he wanted to add something but couldn’t with how fast you left. All this made him wonder if he read the signs wrong or not. He didn’t imagine the way you were often staring at him. He didn’t miss the few times your eyes flicked down to his lips when he was talking to you. He didn’t imagine the way you were shivering every time he touched you, intentionally or not. He didn’t miss how you were always smiling when he was teasing you, even if you tried to look annoyed.

Or was it only pretending ? Jake didn’t know anymore. But you were not the type of girl to do that, right ? He watched you from afar since he saw you for the first time in this science class, noticing how kind you were with everyone, how funny you were, how pretty you looked, and he also noted how many boys tried to hit on you, and how many of them you sent away.

That was why he approached you as a friend. Because at least, even if he didn’t succeed in charming you, you could be friends. And it worked until now, you were getting closer and he even saw you blush one or two times when he made a flirty joke. So he didn’t understand why you were like that today. Maybe it was only a bad day for you, you seemed off and didn’t participate as much as usual. It should be that, yeah. That, or Jake was a total fool.

“- You know the rules Y/N ! You’re late, you pay !”

You sighed but got your wallet out. You were rarely late anyway, so it was not often that you had to pay for the three of you. Your two friends had already ordered your favourite drink and you made your way to the counter to pay before returning to your table and finally relaxing for the first time since you woke up.

“- You seem exhausted today.”

You nodded at Lia’s word, taking a sip of your caramel latte before answering her indirect question.

“- I am. I’ve been running all day ! I was late to my first class because my bus times changed and I didn’t know, so I had to wait for the next one and you know Mr Kim, he hates it when we are late and he literally humiliated me in front of the whole class. Then, I realized that I had forgotten the assignment that I had to hand back for one of my lectures, so I had to rush home to get it on my lunch time and couldn’t eat. And the cherry on top is that Mr Lee paired me up with Jake Sim for our next presentation.

- Wow ! That’s a lot, my dear !”

You nodded again, leaning against Yeji’s shoulder to seek some affection and comfort.

“- Well, all that sucks, but I don’t see how having to spend more time with your crush can be a bad thing ?

- It’s not ! That’s the worst part, I think that he thinks that I don’t want to work with him because I was so dry when I talked to him today, and he looked like a kicked puppy and now I feel guilty.”

Lia reached over to stroke your arm and try to make you feel a little bit better. She knew that you could spiral about the smallest thing you were saying or doing sometimes, overthinking every interaction you had with other people.

“- Just apologize next time, and that should be good. This is nothing that you can’t fix.

- Why are you always right ?”

The blonde shrugged before taking a sip of her own drink, while Yeji led the conversation to how her own day went. But you couldn’t stop thinking about how Jake’s smile fell when he sensed that you were not as enthusiastic as him to work together. You took your phone out, opting to send him a text now, even if you knew that he would not answer right away because he still had some other classes.

you : i am free this weekend and wednesday afternoon to work on the project. and sorry if i was too harsh earlier, i just had a really bad day, it was nothing against you.

You shut off your phone, not expecting a notification to light up the screen just seconds after your last message, trying to hold back a smile from stretching your lips.

jakey : this weekend seems good, but i’m going back to my parents so we’ll have to facetime 😉 don’t worry about that pretty, i figured it was not me you were mad at i’m here if you need to talk. you : i’m good now, but thank you, you’re sweet i’m staying here so call me when you have a moment. and stop texting while you’re in class, idiot !

As he answered you again just to tease you, the weight on your chest flew away. Jake really was a sweet guy, you just couldn’t believe that he was interested in you. He was popular around the campus, whether because of all the rumors about him - mostly false, but they were spreading fast - or because he was incredibly handsome, and a lot of girls were after him, numerous of whom were prettier than you. That was why you had so much trouble understanding why he chose to text you so much. It was not like you to doubt yourself like that, but for some reason, Jake was making you really nervous. Maybe because it was the first time in a while you were really interested in somebody, past just physical attraction, and you didn’t want to fuck it up.

You read Jake's last text again, the one in which he was telling you that he was going to call you in five minutes, just the time for him to gather all the things he needed to work, and you couldn’t stop biting your nails. There was no logical reason for you to be so stressed out about facetiming with him, especially since it was only to talk about a school project, but you were. You checked your appearance in the little mirror above your desk one more time, but didn’t really get the time to fix your hair, your phone ringing straddling you as you picked up the call immediately, setting up the device against your laptop so it would stay in place without you needing to hold it.

“- Hi pretty !

- Hi Jake, how you doing ?”

You tried to ease your mind by making small talk with him, but you were distracted every now and then by how veiny his hands were, or by how comfortable his thigh looked to sit on, pressing your own together to stop the warmth spreading in your lower half. It was really not the moment to think about that, even if it was not the first time nor would it be the last.

“- Did you have an idea of how we could talk about this in an original way ? Because I’m warning you, I don’t want this to be only a boring, classical presentation.”

Jake's deep voice as he chuckled sent your mind to other places you shouldn’t go while working on a science group project.

“- I should have known you’ll be like this. I’ll send you the research I’ve done so far and you tell me if you see something interesting.”

This was enough to get you to concentrate back on what you had to do, and as soon as you chose your angle, you started to work properly, sometimes making comments that made the other laugh. However, Jake was not able to focus on the article in front of him, too immersed in the contemplation of your figure to get anything done.

Why did you have to wear this fucking top ? The straps wouldn’t stop falling off from your shoulders, showing a little more skin of your cleavage everytime it did, before you’ll put them in place again. And he could see that you were not wearing a bra, your nipples poking through the material of your top, allowing him to think about how much he wanted to see you naked, how much he wished he could touch them, lick them, suck on them. Your hair were put up in a messy ponytail, and with your glasses on and the serious look on your face, he couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel to fuck you from behind for some obscure reasons.

And well, it seemed like he got a little too entranced by his own thoughts because Jake could feel his cock twitch in his pants. Swearing under his breath, he turned around in his desk chair to grab a pillow from his bed and put it on his lap. He didn’t want you to notice that he was hard, the risk being that you would take him for a pervert, which he maybe was but he didn’t want you to think that of him. He was trying to be the perfect, sweet guy. He wanted to take you on proper dates, and offer you flowers before initiating anything sexual between the two of you, even if it was you he saw every time he was jerking off, even if he sometimes had to go to the bathroom after your shared classes because the vision of your thighs in a skirt was enough to make him pop a boner.

Sadly, the shuffling sounds he made while reaching for his pillow intrigued you enough for you to lift your head and look what Jake was doing, seeing him quickly put the cushion on his lap before going back to taking notes about the article. You weren’t thinking about something naughty for once, only up to tease him a little bit.

“- What’s with the pillow ? Are you hard or something ?”

Your smirk widened when you saw his ears grow red. It was the first time you were witnessing a blushing Jake, and well, the view was interesting and too funny to let it slide.

“- Don’t tell me you really are ?”

Jake didn’t dare to look at you anymore, his gaze lost in contemplating one of the posters on his walls, so much more interesting right ? How could he explain himself to you without saying anything disrespectful, because the thoughts he was having just before weren’t really ones a well-mannered and polite guy should have. All he wanted right now was to be swallowed by the floor and bury himself six feet under.

“- What were you thinking about ? Me ?”

At the way Jake lowered his head even more, you figured that it was, in fact, you that got him hard. And what was supposed to be a silly little joke turned into a whole lot more. The way your laugh died in your throat when you realized made Jake feel even more nervous that he had really made you uncomfortable and that you wouldn’t want to see his face ever again.

“- I-I am really sorry… Please, don’t think that I'm a creep Y/N ! It’s just… Fuck ! You’re just so hot with your glasses, and your top won’t stop showing your skin, and that’s so embarrassing but it turns me on how smart you are and you explain to me all these things like it’s the easiest thing you’ve ever come across.”

You couldn’t believe what you just heard, and it was apparently showing as Jake spared you a glance and turned away immediately, groaning about how stupid he was, and that you could insult him as much as you wanted if it made you feel better.

“- Jake, just stop and look at me.”

It took some seconds for him to do so. It was a good thing you didn’t decide to end the call and your friendship with him already, he was not going to talk again and push his luck. When his eyes finally landed on you, he gulped loudly, trying to stop himself from getting turned on even more by the intense look you gave him.

“- Show me.

- W-What !?

- Show me what I do to you. And maybe I’ll show you what you’re doing to me.”

It was Jake's turn to not believe his ears. He must have looked so dumb, with his mouth hanging open and blinking repeatedly without saying anything because you chuckled cutely at him, pushing your chair back a little. And this time, when you let the straps of your top fall down, it was done on purpose, encouraging Jake to throw away that damn pillow and allow you to take in the appealing view of his boner. He was wearing these grey sweatpants again, and you couldn’t help licking your lips when you imagined how big his dick would be.

“- I wanna see more, this is not enough for me to forgive you.”

Even if his heart was about to burst out of his chest, a little smirk started to spread on his face. He wasn’t in a position to negotiate, but he liked the game you were leading him into. And your wish was his command. Without a word, Jake got rid of his shirt, throwing the piece of clothing away before looking back at you, happy to find you biting your lips while checking him out.

“- Like what you see ?

- Don’t be so cocky, you still have to make it up to me.

- And what do you want, pretty ?”

You pretended to think about it, using it as an excuse to drool over his abs a little longer. Because yeah, Jake was insanely hot, and even if you didn’t want him to see how affected you were, your drenched panties should be enough of a clue.

“- I want to see you jerk off for me. And I want you to tell me all the things you’ve been thinking about doing to me.”

Jake immediately stood up from his desk chair, throwing his sweatpants and boxer away while a quiet “fuck” fell from his lips, bringing a smirk to your face. This was getting way more interesting than science. When he sat down again, you only needed to tilt your head to the side for him to start stroking his cock slowly, releasing a sigh that had you pressing your thighs together to try and relieve some of the pressure you felt building up. Your eyes couldn’t leave his hard dick, wondering about how good he would fill you up, how good he would feel inside of you.

“- So ? Aren’t you going to say anything ?”

The sound of his hand around his cock was starting to resonate in his room, spreading his pre-cum onto his shaft and going faster. He couldn’t help but feel embarrassed about you wanting to know his fantasies about yourself, sitting there so prettily but still fully clothed, while he was jerking off for your eyes only.

“- I-I thought a lot about… About fucking you, especially when you’re wearing these damn skirts.

- What about my skirts ? Don’t you like them ?”

If he wasn’t already blushing, he was definitely right now, not only because of his confession, but mostly because your pouty lips had him thinking about sliding his cock between them and he felt close to cumming already just because of this, just because you were playing with him and he loved it a little too much.

“- Fuck ! I do, I do, but they make me want to eat you out so bad, you have no idea how hard it is to sit next to you when you have them on.”

Jake closed his eyes for a few seconds, missing your proud smile as you watched his face scrunch up in pleasure. Since he did nothing but listen to you – and make you even more wet – you decided to reward him by removing your tank top, letting him finally see your breast.

“- You’re so hot Y/N… I wanna touch you…

- But you’ll just have to watch for now, okay ?”

For now ? Jake didn’t want to dig on what you meant, too entranced by the sight of your hands coming up to play with your nipples like he dreamt about doing, forcing another moan out of his mouth. How bad he wished he was the one massaging your boobs right now, how bad he wanted them in his mouth and your hands tugging on his hair.

“- I want to see more of you, pretty, please…”

Your eyes shifted from his dick to his face, your mouth watering at his fucked out look zeroing on your hands on your chest and fingers pinching your nipples. But hearing Jake beg for you was too pleasing, you needed more of his pleas, more of his airy moans. It was like a drug you were slowly becoming addicted to.

“- Beg some more, and I’ll think about it.

- Please Y/N, please, it’s not fair, I want to see your pussy, been dreaming about it, please.”

The fact that he didn’t even hesitate before doing it made your head spin with want, clouding your mind with lust as you got rid of your clothes too and sat down in front of the camera again.

“- Shit ! You’re so fucking hot pretty, making me want to fuck you so bad.

- I really wished you were here Jake, wished you could be the one touching me like that.”

As you were talking, you spread your legs for him, your feet sitting on your desk so he had a full view of your soaked pussy and your little fingers playing with your clit.

“- Is it enough for you ? Or do you want even more ?”

The way Jake’s tongue poked out of his mouth to lick his lips had you thinking back to him eating you out, and how good that would feel. A soft whimper escaped you when you slipped two fingers into your hole, too excited to wait for his answer. The way he was lazily stroking his cock was driving you insane, and you didn’t care if you looked desperate for him anymore, because you were and all you wanted was him right now.

“- Would feel so much better if it was your fingers…

- You don’t know how much I want that… You’re so wet, you’re dripping everywhere baby, fuck ! I want to lick your pretty cunt so bad….”

Another moan rolled off your tongue, closing your eyes for a second before opening them again because you didn’t want to miss the show Jake was putting on for you, his hand moving way faster now that he got to witness your naked body and the sinful vision you offered him. Your fingers couldn’t reach that spot you knew he could have, knew that his long hands would be perfect for you.

“- You want that pretty ? Want me to eat your pussy ?

- Oh god, yes ! Please Jake, I need it, I need you…”

The way you were saying his name, full of lust and desire, had him coming close to the edge already. He wished he was with you right now, wished he could hear you scream it again and again, wished you would beg him more and more.

“- I need you too, need you to sit on my cock and ride me.”

He was sitting in the perfect position for you to do just that, and the image wouldn’t leave your mind. You abandoned your nipple to play with your clit, your thighs shaking as you approached your climax.

“- I’m so close, feels so good…

- Me too… Cum for me Y/N.”

This was all you needed for your orgasm to wash over you, clenching so hard around your fingers you could barely move them anymore, circling your clit until it felt too much. Jake had to bite his lips and quickly remind himself that he was not home alone to hold himself back from releasing a litany of filthy moans as he spilled all over his abs, covering them in his release that you wanted to lick off from his body so badly.

During a moment, the only sound was the one of your heavy breathing, trying to get a hold of what just happened. As you were about to say something, a knock against your door interrupted your thoughts, eyes widening in surprise. You rushed to end the call with Jake, not even taking the time for a goodbye before dressing up quickly and trying to not look like you just had the best orgasm of your life as you opened the door of your bedroom.

“- Are you alright ? I thought I heard you scream…”

You smiled innocently at your Yeji, hoping that she would not interrogate you further because your legs were still weak and trembling and your face was obviously flushed.

“- Oh, yeah, I just hit my toes against the bed, that’s why.”

Luckily, she seemed to accept your excuse and you plopped down on your bed after closing the door behind you. What the fuck just happened ? Did you really have sex over a facetime with Jake ? It was usually something you dreamt about but that never occurred in real life. But with the way he was blowing up your phone, there was no way this was not true.

If you thought that this would ease the tension between the two of you, you were definitely wrong. Because when you saw each other for the first time after this one call, you felt ten times more attracted to him than before, almost getting wet just seeing him smirk at you as you entered the classroom. Sure, you had texted each other during the week, but neither one of you dared to address the subject directly, too embarrassed and afraid that it would ruin everything.

But you couldn’t lie : you wore the shortest skirt you owned today on purpose, only because you wanted a reaction out of him. And a reaction you got. As soon as Jake took in your entire outfit, his gaze darkened, mouth opening just enough for his tongue to dart out and lick his lips as if he wanted to devour you. If you weren’t wet already, now, your panties were definitely soaked with the way he was eying you up and down.

“- Hi Jake ! How was your weekend ? Must have been great to see your parents.”

He didn’t expect you to strike up such a casual conversation with him, but his mind was already far away, staring at the way your skirt rode up your thighs when you sat down, revealing even more of your skin. Jake had to turn his gaze away from you for a few moments to focus back on how to form sentences and answer you.

“- It was cool, yeah. And how was yours ? Did you have fun ?

- Actually, it was very fun. Something interesting happened.”

The grin stretching out your lips didn’t go unnoticed, Jake’s eyes zeroing on them and wishing he could kiss you right now, wishing he could have you grinding down on his lap and making out with him. He was snapped out of his daydreaming when Mr.Lee entered the classroom loudly, as usual.

“- Hello everyone ! Today you’re gonna work on your projects, and I’ll come see where all of you are so I can help you if you need it.”

Working together turned out to be way more complicated than you thought it would. Jake wouldn’t stop subtly caressing your arms or your hands, coming way more closer to you than necessary when you had something to show him, his thigh pressed against yours underneath the table. But two could play a game, right ? Too bad you dropped your pen on the floor and had to get up to pick it up. Too bad your skirt was so short that when you bent over, Jake could catch a glimpse of your panties. Too bad the hand you landed on his thigh to get his attention was so close to his crotch.

By the end of the class, you were just dying to come back home and relieve the unbearable heat you were feeling, almost squirming in your chair. If he had you wrecked with only that, you didn’t dare to think of how good he would actually be able to ruin you. But what was infuriating was how he didn’t even seem to be affected by the whole situation, despite his leg bouncing up and down, and his lips swollen from biting them. Still, you wanted to get back at him. After all, it was his fault if your call took another turn, and it was his fault your panties were ruined right now.

With how fast you escaped the classroom, Jake didn’t expect you to ask him to meet up, especially in an area he knew was unknown by most students. His body was tingling in anticipation, wondering what you were going to do next. Maybe he loved this little game too much, and maybe it was risky because he almost popped a boner in class, but it was worth it if it was for you.

“- What do you want pretty ?

- Give me your hand.”

You could see that he was confused, but he did what you asked nevertheless, so you could place something in his palm, closing his fingers around what seemed to be a piece of fabric, which was a little damp.

“- You feel how wet you made me ? This is what you do to me Jake. Now, enjoy your next classes.”

He watched you go away, definitely hard this time when he realized you really gave him your panties, and that the material was, in fact, soaked in your juices. Behind you, you heard him swear loudly and rush to his class to not be late, a smirk spreading on your lips. It was his turn to suffer a little.

Jake didn’t even take the time to greet his roommate when he came home, tracing a beeline to his room and locking the door before he dropped his bag on the floor. He got out your panties that were stuffed in his pocket, the fabric still a little wet. You were the reason he didn’t pay attention to his last class of the day, not able to understand a single thing his professor was saying. He couldn’t stop thinking about how much he wanted to jerk off with them, couldn’t stop thinking of you going home with nothing underneath your skirt.

That was enough to make him hard all over again. Quickly, Jake got rid of his jeans and underwear, laying down on his bed with a hand already wrapped around his painfully hard dick. Without an ounce of shame, he lifted your panties to his nose, inhaling your scent and immediately moaning. He was already addicted to this, to you, to the way you were playing with him.

Jake could already feel his tip leaking pre-cum, and he knew that he was not going to last long, especially after you had edged him all day. It was as if he could still feel your hand on his thigh, too close to his crotch for his sanity. And every time you touched his arm to have his attention, it was like your fingers were leaving a trail of fire behind them, a shiver running down his spine every time your warmth left him.

The smell of your juices was driving him insane, sticking his tongue out to lick it off the material. He sped up his movements unconsciously, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, incapable of holding back his moans anymore. He didn’t care if Jay could hear him or not, he didn’t care if what he was doing was disgusting, if he was a creep for loving it all. You already tasted like heaven like this, and he knew that as soon as you’d let him go down on you for real, he would never want to pull out from your pussy ever again.

Once he could taste nothing but his own saliva that had completely drenched your panties, he wrapped it around his cock, the friction feeling so much better than his own hands, but not coming close to what yours would feel, he knew it. His mind couldn’t stop drifting away to a sick scenario in which you were watching him do all that, in which you were telling him how disgusting he was, in which he was begging for you to touch him. The thought was enough to push him over the edge, moaning your name loudly as he came all over this stomach and your panties.

“- Fuck…”

Without a second thought, he reached for his pants on the floor, getting his phone out to take a picture of the mess he had made. The material was still wrapped around his cock, making sure you had a great view of his abs covered in his cum and his tip still leaking. As soon as he hit “send”, Jake plopped down on the sheets again, closing his eyes for a while. He knew he had to get up, take a shower and do his homework, but the only thing plaguing his mind was you. Only you.

Of course, the teasing didn’t stop there, neither of you being able to stop. You had sexted each other during classes, not paying any attention to the actual lesson, too busy telling the other the dirtiest things. It felt even better when Jake did it during your science class, blowing up your phone with messages filled with praises of how gorgeous you looked today, of how your outfit was suiting you perfectly, of how much he wished he could fuck you on your desk right now, of how much he just wanted to get out of here and show you how good he could make you feel.

You had not given up on your skirts and dresses, which were getting shorter and tighter as time went on. And Jake had not given up on putting his hand on your thigh, which was getting closer and closer to your core everytime you were sitting side by side. The flirting comments he whispered in your ears got more and more unhinged, and the pictures you sent to him got more and more revealing. Jake had started to save them in a locked file, but always making sure to send something back so it was fair - and not at all because he loved the idea of you drooling over his body, or touching yourself while looking at his nudes.

And even if Jake loved the game, he couldn’t wait for the moment he would finally have you. Because he was so close to breaking down the act when you sent him an audio message of you moaning his name, going on and on about how much you wished he was with you right now, about how much you needed him. It was late at night, and Jake was ready to go to sleep, but he was quick to slip his hand in his underwear, jerking off to the sound of your whines and begs that he listened to on repeat from this moment on. And he was seeing so clearly the sinful image of you fingering yourself that hadn’t left his mind since this video call, the same image that was imprinted in his memories.

He was almost ready to go out at 1am and come to your apartment, but he was too tired and mostly, he wanted to win, even if it was pointless because he knew that you wanted him as much as he wanted you. So he settled on sending you a video just when he was coming, while telling you how bad he wished you could be riding him right now, how bad he wished he could fill you up with his cum. And you replied with a close up of your wet pussy that ended up in his locked file.

It was also very fun to talk casually in front of everyone else, as if Jake wasn’t fucking you with his eyes, as if you hadn’t sent him another filthy text last night where you were calling him your good boy. The sexual tension between you and Jake was so high that neither Yeji or Jay could even bear to look your way without being disgusted - their words, not yours. And the way you were both always smiling, giggling and blushing everytime the other sent you something had your two friends desesperate for you to finally fuck each other and stop flirting in front of them - again, their exact words. You knew Yeji was happy for you and just liked to tease, but you were just as eager as her to get laid.

But you will not be the one to give up. You wanted Jake to surrender before you did. Why ? Just because it was much more fun that way. Hence why you were standing so close to Jungwon. And Jake was clearly not having it, watching the two of you from his seat in the classroom, jaw clenched and gaze burning a hole in your friend’s back. The way you were touching his arm and laughing at his jokes shouldn’t have made him jealous. After all, you were not his, you were not his girlfriend, and he didn’t even kiss you yet. But still, it didn’t stop him from wanting to swat Jungwon away from you when he hugged you.

Your innocent smile as you sat next to him and asked him how his day went so far did not help. He could see right through you, could see that you did that on purpose. And this time, it worked. Jake didn’t want to admit it, he didn’t want this to stop, but he had to do it or he would go insane. While you were cautiously taking notes, he took his phone out, accustomed to texting you during class by now. During a little break, you looked at your phone and grinned seeing a new message from Jake, asking you to join him in the same corridor you gave him your panties a few weeks before. You had to bite your lips to not let a big smile invade your whole face, because you knew very well what it meant, your body tingling with excitement.

At this point, Jake had no self control anymore. All he wanted was you. All he needed was you. And he was not going to survive if he didn’t actually have you in the next few minutes. However, a small part of him was anxious, overwhelming him with the doubt that maybe, just maybe, you really only wanted the game, and not him. He should have heard your footsteps resonating in the empty hallway, but he was into his thoughts and only did acknowledge your presence when you came into his view, not letting him utter a word before you grabbed him by his jacket and kissed him. His brain stopped working, wide eyed and not moving until you let him go.

“- Are you okay ?”

Jake shook his head at you, before reaching to grab your waist, pushing you against the nearest wall, lips only inches away from yours.

“- No… You’ve been driving me crazy since the first day Y/N, I want you.

- Then take me.”

That was all he needed to lean in and kiss you again, harder, messier as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You moaned against his lips, tugging him closer to you by his jacket and he took the hint, pushing his body impossibly close to yours. The way he was kissing you, as if he had an insatiable hunger for you, had you wet in seconds, and you could feel his boner pressing against your thigh, an obvious proof that you were just as desperate for this to happen.

Neither one of you was thinking about the fact that you were in a hallway, and that anyone could walk in on you, heavily making out. It didn’t matter to Jake, too lost in the taste of your lips and tongue against his to care about anything else. He finally had you all for himself, finally had you where he wanted, finally had a taste of you. And he already knew that he was going to get addicted, that he wouldn’t want anyone after you because it was like you were made for him. Eventually, you needed to breathe and had to detach yourself from his lips, Jake chasing yours and letting a quiet whine escape him when you started to grind your hips against his.

“- Fuck… Do you feel how bad I need you pretty ?”

You nodded, not trusting yourself with making sentences, not when he was holding your gaze and all you could see in his eyes was lust and desire. This look alone made you want to drop on your knees for him right now, and the way he started to pepper your neck with his kisses didn’t help either, taking a hold of his hair and moving faster against him.

“- I need you too Jake… Need you to use me…

- Don’t say that if you don’t want to get fucked for everyone to see.”

His voice had dropped lower, his hot breath fanning against the skin of your neck where you knew for sure he had already left some hickeys. And he didn’t feel guilty at all. He wanted everyone to know you were his, even if you technically weren’t. Jake knew that if he didn’t leave now, he would never have the strength to do so.

“- I have to go pretty…

- I know…”

You knew but you kissed him again anyway, hoping that the taste of his lips against yours would linger for as long as possible. When Jake finally had the courage to stop you, he was already ten minutes late for his next class and cock hard as a rock in his pants, but who cared if he got to have you all needy and desperate for him - as if he wasn’t just as needy and desperate for you.

“- Come over at mine tonight, okay ? I’ll kick Jay out, and I’ll be all yours pretty.

- Okay, text me later ?

- I will.”

Jake pressed one last kiss on your forehead before he started to run for his class, praying that it would be enough for him to calm down and stop thinking about all the things he was going to do to you.

Jake was probably more nervous right now than he had ever been in his entire life, and he had had many situations to be anxious about. However, the fact that you were going to come over in less than five minutes made his palms sweat and his heart beat faster. He didn’t really know why he was feeling so panicked, because you obviously showed him on numerous occasions how much you were yearning for him too, there was no way you would stand him. But if he did something wrong ? If it was not what you had expected and you decided that you didn’t want to see him again after that ?

This last idea in particular was running in his head. Because he didn’t want to have you just for one night, he didn’t want to fuck you and then let you walk away as if he wasn’t crazy over you, as if you didn’t make him feel shy everytime you smiled at him. But the more he was thinking about it, the more his heart ached at the scenario. So he stuck to trying to distract himself on his phone until you arrived.

He didn’t really do anything in particular, didn’t litter the whole place with rose petals and candles, but everything was cleaned perfectly and he even cooked so you had something to eat if you happened to be hungry. It was strange to be suddenly so anxious about meeting up with you. Because he was not nervous when he texted you all his fantasies about you, he was not nervous when he sent you pics and videos of his dick, he was not even nervous when he made out with you in this corridor later. But now, he could feel his hands shaking as he tried his best to open the door for you without looking like a complete idiot. But how was he supposed to stay calm and collected when you were standing at his door, wearing a little black dress that took his breath away.

“- Are you going to let me in or not ?”

Jake finally snapped out of his haze hearing your teasing tone, and he had to mentally restrain himself from letting his eyes wander all around your silhouette. And immediately, he forgot all about being anxious, grabbing you by your wrist and pulling you inside, closing the door and pushing you against it quickly. Your whole body felt on fire from his hands on your waist alone.

“- I’ve waited so long for this, pretty, wanted you since the first day.”

Your own hands came to play with his hair, bringing his face closer to yours, grinning as he tried to focus on your eyes and lips at the same time.

“- Yeah ? Wanna show me how much ?

- I’m going to make you feel so good, make you scream my name for all the neighbors to hear.”

You licked your lips, your gaze locking with each other. Slowly, Jake’s face got closer to yours, one of his hands leaving your waist to rest on your cheek, tilting your head up so he could kiss you. He wanted all this to be perfect, wanted to take his time with you, wanted to hold you close to him and satisfy every one of your needs. But as soon as he got another taste of you, he couldn’t stop himself from wanting more, all the teasing from these past months reaching its climax as he devoured you, his tongue passionately dancing with yours.

You couldn’t hide anymore the effect he had on you, the slightest brush of his thigh against yours having you sighing in his mouth. But you needed more, needed to feel more of him, more of his skin against yours. That was why you let your hands drop from his neck to the hem of his shirt, sliding your fingers underneath the material, finally able to touch the beautiful abs you could only see in pictures and videos.

Jake’s eyes landed on the hickeys he left earlier, smirking at the fact that your dress didn’t hide them at all. And he made it his mission to cover the other side of your neck as well, his kisses trailing from the corner of your mouth, along your jawline and finally landing on the sensitive skin that he immediately started licking and nipping at. He was used to hearing your little whimpers of pleasure, but it was even more addicting to hear them when he was the one provoking them, even better when he could feel your hands tugging on his hair, even better when he could grip your ass at the same time.

“- Jake… I need you…

- Mh ? But you have me pretty…”

You could feel his grin against the skin of your neck as he kept sucking on it, his hand slipping underneath your dress to feel your bare skin. He could be as cocky as he wanted, in the end he was getting even more hard just by kneading at the plush flesh of your thighs. And you knew that, and you wouldn’t let his arrogance be. One of your hands came up to grab his jaw, forcing him to look you in the eyes while the other slid down to his crotch, squeezing his hard on enough for Jake to let out a gasp of both surprise and pleasure.

“- Don’t get so confident baby, you know how good I am at edging you and you don’t want that now, do you ?

- No…”

His voice was barely above a whisper, lips parted, breathing heavily and eyes wide open. You were sometimes getting more assertive in your texts, but to really experience it was different. He loved when you were begging him, but if you wanted him to play in your fantasy and dominate him, you could bet that he would be the best sub ever.

“- Good boy. Take me to your room.”

That was all Jake needed to carry you through his apartment, managing to get to his bed while kissing you again, and again, and again. He laid you down on his sheets, unaware of how hot you thought he was for being able to do that so effortlessly. You wanted to get on top of him and worship him all night. But for now, you simply watched him discarding his shirt and sweatpants on the floor, biting your lips at the sight.

“- Come here.”

And he did it, caging you in with his arms before going back to kissing you while you let your hands roam around his body, touching up every inch of skin you could reach - his back, his arms, his abs, everything. You needed to have his skin against yours, to really feel him. His own fingers were sliding underneath your dress, caressing your thighs, your ass, your lower back. But all these clothes were getting annoying, he wanted to see you, have your whole body in display for his gaze only. He needed to see in person what you had shown him so many times in pictures and videos.

“- Can I take these off ?”

You simply nodded, a sigh of relief coming out of your mouth when Jake helped you get rid of everything you were wearing, starting from your jacket that you didn’t even have the time to discard because he immediately jumped on you. Then, he threw away your little boots and your socks, and finally your dress, revealing the black, laced lingerie set you had on. Another smirk played on your lips when you saw shock as well as lust play in his eyes.

“- You like it ?”

His hands were almost shaking as he put them back on your body, grazing the skin with his fingers slowly. If he liked it ? He could feel his cock twitching at the view alone. You were like a sinful goddess, and you were here for him only, sprawled out on his bed, waiting for him to make you feel good.

“- Fuck, yes, you’re so hot pretty… Can I touch you ?”

You smiled at him, finding his carefulness even more attractive. As an answer, you took his hands in your own, guiding them to your breast, letting him massage it over your bra as he looked at you like you casted a spell on him. And truth be told, you might have done just that because he soon found himself unable to keep his hands for himself. In the span of a few seconds, Jake had pushed your boobs out of the coffin of your bra, his lips coming down to play with one of your nipples while his fingers were giving attention to the other.

Your hands quickly came back down to grab his hair, whines leaving your mouth every time his own closed around your nipple. Your mind was already clouded with pleasure and desire, having waited for too long for exactly that to happen, and you didn’t have any patience left : you wanted his cock, and you wanted it now. In one swift movement - and because Jake didn’t expect you to do that - you managed to get him on his back where you were laying seconds before, straddling his lap. Immediately, he found your waist again, his big hands tugging you closer to his cock, where he needed you.

“- If you wanted to be on top, you could’ve just said that, princess.”

You wanted to kiss that stupid, proud grin out of his face, but instead you decided to strip him from his underwear, finally getting to see his cock for real. And it was even more pretty, even more bigger, even more perfect for you.

“- I just need your cock, I don’t care how, I just need it.”

How eager you were to touch him too had Jake groaning and releasing a moan as soon as you started to stroke his cock. He loved the fact that you simply took what you wanted from him, and he was ready to let you use him in any way you wished if that made you happy. However, all the times he imagined how your hand would feel around his dick couldn’t compare to how it really was, to how good it really was.

“- Do whatever you want to me.”

You didn’t need to be told twice to lower your head and be at the same level as his cock, sticking out your tongue immediately and coming to lick his flushed tip. The sight was unholy, tempting him to push the rest of his shaft in between your lips right now. Jake couldn’t even recall all the times he closed his eyes and thought about your mouth closing around his dick instead of his hands. And now you were really there, spitting on it and spreading your saliva before taking him in your mouth.

He couldn’t help but throw his head back, his hands coming down to take a hold of your hair, following the movement of your head. The feeling of having you suck his dick couldn’t compare to anything he had fantasized about before. And if you weren’t so busy trying to fit his big cock in your throat, you would have teased him because he looked so fucked out already and you hadn’t done anything yet. Little by little, you managed to fit all of him down your throat, and the moan he let out at you hollowing your cheeks, making you even more wet if possible.

“- Fuck ! Your mouth feels so warm, so good…”

Even when you started to bob your head up and down, he didn’t look down at your face, but you wanted his full attention, wanted to see him lose all his composure. Your hands were resting against his thighs, and you started to graze his skin with your nails, effectively getting him to open his eyes and focus on you again. Another moan left his lips just from seeing you like this.

“- Please, don’t stop…”

And you didn’t, feeling his grip on your hair tightening as you took him all the way down once more. If Jake wasn’t trying to not lose his mind over how well you were taking him, he would have loved to wipe the smug expression out of your face. But for now, all he could do was moan and whine and look at you through hooded eyes, loving how much of a mess you were, with a mix of saliva and pre-cum dribbling from the corner of your lips. He couldn’t resist anymore the urge to thrust his cock up in your mouth, closing his eyes again at the feeling of your tight throat around him.

“- Wanna cum in your mouth so bad pretty, can I ? Please, please, let me…”

You hummed in agreement, far too fucked out yourself to do anything else than taking what he was giving to you. At this point, he was simply using you for his own pleasure but you just let him because you loved it, loved how he claimed you by ruining your throat.

“- Shit Y/N ! Gonna fill you up, yeah ?”

A moan escaped you, the vibration sending Jake over the edge, his hips halting their movement, buried deep inside of your warm mouth and spilling his load right there, your eyes watering as you tried to swallow it all. Jake felt on cloud nine, and he knew that he would not need anyone else for the rest of his life because you were definitely made for him, perfect for him. You got one second to breathe when Jake pulled on your hair, taking you away from his cock and bringing you up to his lips, kissing you deeply and tasting himself on your tongue, loving the nasty mix of both your saliva and his cum. When he finally let you go, you couldn’t help but zeroing again on his red, swollen lips that he was biting while looking intently at you.

“- You did so well for me, pretty, such a good girl.”

His forehead was pressed against yours, cupping your face, thumbs whipping away the tears who had rolled down your cheeks. You felt even more turned on by how thoughtful he was, by his praises, by his sweet gestures despite being so rough with you.

“- Need you Jake…

- Want me to return the favor ?

- Yes, please…”

You felt so desperate for any kind of touch, your body tingling with anticipation as Jake switched position and laid you down on the bed again. He’ll get you to sit on his face another time, when his mind will be clear enough, when he’ll have the patience and self control to make you cum at least two times. He quickly got rid of your bra, even if you looked heavenly in them. But the sight of your naked body was even more appealing. Soon, his hands were all over you again, roaming around your skin and making you shiver. His lips found purchase on your neck again, littering it with more of his kisses and marks.

“- Don’t tease, please, I want you so bad…”

A single swear escaped Jake’s lips as he helped you out of your panties, bringing them to his nose and making a show out of sniffing them and groaning at the intoxicating scent, allowing you to picture how he looked when he had jerked off with your ruined underwear. Then, he threw them away somewhere in his room, not caring where it landed and grabbing you by your thighs to bring you close to his face, holding them wide open for him. The view of your bare and wet pussy had him getting hard all over again.

“- Such a pretty cunt baby, bet you taste just as sweet.”

His praises had you shying away from his dark gaze, but you were not able to hold back your little whimpers. Jake chuckled lightly before diving straight into your wet folds, having had enough of teasing you when he was just as desperate to taste you as you were to feel him. The second he licked up your wetness, it was over for him. He could be as cocky as he wanted but not when he felt his cock throbbing only at the taste of your pussy, not when you were invading all his senses as he buried his face between your plush thighs, sucking harshly on your clit.

Every moan that came out of your lips only spurred him on to continue, to go harder. When he felt you squirming around, he made sure to grip your thighs and keep them in place for him to have better access to your cunt. The way his skillful tongue was taking turns between playing with your clit, licking up your folds and going inside had you losing your mind already, both hands coming down to tug on his hair as if you wanted to keep him there forever.

“- Fuck ! Jake…”

He opened his eyes again at hearing your cries of his name, diving in your lustful gaze. Your parted lips allowed you to whine out everytime his mouth was on you, your cheeks were dusted pink because of the unbearable heat of your body and your hair was a tangled mess, thanks to Jake’s hands earlier. But to him, you never looked better, an heavenly sight for only him to witness.

“- Feels good pretty ?”

You nodded along, a quiet whimper echoing through the room at the loss of contact with his wet muscle.

“- Yes ! Yes, so good…”

Jake knew that, but to hear you say it had a smirk playing on his lips, and you couldn’t even be mad about it because he was looking insanely hot doing it. You could feel the pad of his fingers creeping up the skin between your knees and hips, so slowly it made shivers come alive on your whole body. And when he was almost touching your wet folds, he started all over again with your other leg, this time going as far as debuting at your ankle, and coming up even more lazily.

“- Please…

- Please what, pretty ?

- You know what I’m talking about !”

Your pouting face was too cute for Jake to not want to tease you more. He loved it when you made him go crazy, loved when you were getting him hard in the most inappropriate situations because you sent him a picture of your boobs. But it was also enjoyable to have you in the palm of his hand, dying for him to touch you. He rested his hands on the insides of your thighs, so close to where you needed him and yet so far away.

“- Hum, I don’t think so baby, you need to use your words if you want something.”

The grin on his face got even wider when he witnessed the way your hole clenched around nothing at his demanding tone, at his deep, low voice. He suspected that you had a thing for it since you were always biting your lips when he facetimed you early in the morning or late at night with his hoarse voice.

“- Come on, don’t get shy on me now, you told me a lot more worse before.”

You did. You definitely did with all the filthy texts you exchanged, and all the photos, videos and audios you sent, and your panties which were still sitting in one of his drawers like the ultimate proof of how naughty you were.

“- Want your fingers…

- Here we go. That wasn't so difficult, princess, was it ?”

You shook your head no as Jake dived back into your cunt, his lips finding their spot back on your clit, while his hand finally reached your wet folds. His touch was as light as a feather, but still enough to tear a noise out of you, still enough to make you crave more. All it took was a slight tug on the strands of hair you were still gripping and suddenly, you could feel one of his fingers entering you slowly, so as to not hurt you.

“- Good ?”

You nodded energetically, releasing a sigh of relief to have something filling your empty pussy, and you didn’t even need to tell Jake for him to understand that you wanted more, inserting another finger while still playing with your clit with his tongue. And when he started to pump his fingers in and out, you knew that you wouldn’t last long, especially not when he seemed to have figured out exactly how to make you lose your mind. You couldn't stop the noises from coming out of your mouth anymore, pushing Jake's head even closer to your core if that was even possible, grinding on his face as pleasure coursed through your veins and the knot in your stomach snapped.

Your breath was knocked out of your lungs, and you almost didn't feel his gentle kisses on your inner thighs to help you come down off your high. What you did feel though was him pulling out his fingers and bringing them to your lips. He smiled sweetly at your obedience, watching you through his lashes as you opened your mouth and let him bury them inside, even moaning around his fingers just like you did around his dick.

“- So good for me, fuck, you're so pretty…”

He wanted to lick off your lips the string of saliva connecting them to his fingers, wanted to make out with you and your pussy for the rest of his life. Silence came back in his room, only broken by your heavy breathings, looking into each other's eyes as if you could read your minds.

“- You’re gonna fuck me or not ?”

Your teasing smirk and the challenging tone of your voice brought a grin on his face, which widened at the strangled moan you let out when he grabbed your hips and forced you to turn around, getting you on your knees, ass up and pushing your head down his pillow. He was doing with his hands everything he did with his words : ordering you around, telling you how to place the camera so he had the best view of your dripping cunt, not letting you cum before he did. Without letting you have any more time to think, Jake was pushing the tip of his cock between your folds, sliding right in with how wet you were. You couldn’t see him from your position, but you could hear his deep groan as you clenched around him.

“- All you need is a little bit of dick to shut your big mouth uh ?”

You wanted to protest, to say no, to answer something that would have made him shut up, but all that came out of your lips was a cry of his name as he thrusted all the way in. If he wasn’t holding your hips up, you would’ve collapsed, overwhelmed by the rush of pleasure in your body at feeling so full suddenly.

“- Yeah, that’s it, just a slut who needs to be fucked.”

As much as Jake wanted to sound composed, his voice was shaking, and the moan that left him just after was really far from composed. The feeling of your tight, warm, velvety walls had him wondering why he waited so long before fucking you because it had to be what heaven felt like. Slowly, he pulled his cock out, only to thrust back inside roughly, the sound of your whimpers mingling with his deep groans.

“- Fuck ! You’re perfect for my cock, pretty little pussy.”

At this point, you could only whine in his pillow, mumbling on and on about how good he felt, about how you had wanted this for so long. And Jake wanted to be cocky about it, wanted to tease you for being so desperate for his cock, but he wasn’t doing any better, barely resisting the urge of painting your walls white on the spot. You had told him so many times over text and even during your calls how much you wanted him to fuck you raw, how much you needed him to fill you up to the brim, it was the only thing he could think about right now.

“- You want me to fill you up with my cum ? Is that what you want ?”

You moaned in response, your brain too mushy to think about anything else than the way the tip of his cock was hitting your sweet spot over and over. But that didn’t seem to satisfy him as he pulled on your hair, yanking your head back. Another noise fell out of your lips at his rough actions and you could feel the smirk on his lips when they brushed against your ear while he was talking.

“- Words pretty.

- Yes, fuck ! I want your cum Jake, want it all, please !”

- Such a good little slut, shit !”

You felt your eyes watering again with the increasing speed of Jake’s thrusts, the rush of pleasure through your body too good to resist anymore. Your orgasm washed over you before you could even register it, leaving you a moaning and incoherent mess in his hold. The feeling of your cunt getting even more tight was enough for Jake to cum too, spilling his load inside of you with a throaty groan.

You were tired, but still, the tingling sensation in your core was there. You wanted more of his cock, more of his moans, more of his hands on you, more of him. A quiet whine fell from your lips when Jake started kissing your back up and down, his hands caressing your hips to soothe the skin he had marked. And you knew all of this was supposed to be sweet and caring, but all it did was turn you on even more, your cunt squeezing his cock that was still buried inside. You felt some of his cum spilling out and sliding down your thighs, followed closely by a swear from Jake.

“- You’re getting me hard again pretty…”

You turned your head to look at him, cheeks flushed and eyes glossy, lips swollen and red from his kisses, and hair a mess because of his hands. And Jake could swear it was the most divine you’ve ever looked - when he had just ruined you.

“- Let me ride you then.

- Fuck, yes.”

You chuckled at his eagerness when he pulled out from your leaking cunt, trying not to drool at the sight as he plopped down on his bed, grabbing your thighs and bringing you on his lap. But you couldn’t really make fun of him when you had dreamt about this for just as long. You traced along the marks that already started to blossom on his skin, grinning proudly at your work and loving how sensitive Jake was, taking a deep breath as you took his cock in your hand, brushing the tip against your entrance.

“- Y/N… Please…”

The way the word came so easily to him paired with his whine of your name convinced you to not make him wait any longer and to sink on his dick instead, both of you moaning at the feeling. It felt so much deeper this way, and you knew only from the photos that he was big, but you were only acknowledging just how much now.

“- Feels so good Jake, love your big cock…”

He desperately wanted to answer something, wanted to tell you how delicious you were, but you took his breath away when you started rocking your hips back and forth. And suddenly, the only thing he was able to think about was you. His hands were on your waist, but he didn’t have enough consciousness left to even help you bounce up and down, simply staring at you, mesmerized.

A flood of dirty words was coming out of your mouth, praising him and his dick, telling him how good he felt, how handsome he was. And Jake loved the attention, loved to feel your hands dangerously close to his neck, close enough for him to want your fingers wrapped around his throat, close enough for you to purposely restrict his breathing a little without really choking him. Only the squelching of your mixed juices and the ones of your cries of pleasure could be heard in the room, both of you too fucked out to care about anything else than your release.

“- Can I cum inside again, pretty, please ? Please, let me…

- Yes, want it so bad !”

Jake closed his eyes as he felt his orgasm approaching, lifting his hips to meet your thrusts. He was only able to do it a few times before his cock twitched, cumming deep inside. He kept you down on his lap until he felt on the verge of passing out. The erotic moans and whimpers he let out triggered your own climax, and everything was even more intense because of the slight overstimulation. You grinned your hips against him a few more times before your arms and legs gave out and you collapsed on top of him, his arms immediately wrapping around your sweaty body.

You closed your eyes for a moment, and you were almost ready to fall asleep when Jake moved you off of him and stood up. You whined and grabbed him by his wrist, trying to pull him back to the bed with you.

“- I’m just going to take something to clean us up pretty, I’ll be quick, promise.”

Jake smiled fondly at your pouty lips before kissing them and running to the bathroom to find a towel. He rapidly cleaned your skin, delicately whipping it down and handed you one of his shirts to cover up when he saw you shiver. He discarded the towel on the floor, not having the energy to do anything else than going to sleep with you in his arms right now. He slipped under the covers after having put on some shorts.

You directly snuggled up to him, hiding your face in his neck and breathing his scent in. And Jake couldn’t help the big smile stretching out his lips when he tightened his hold around your waist and distinctly heard you hum against his skin.

“- Y/N ?”

You lifted your head when he broke the comfortable silence that had settled between the two of you, taking in his soft smile, his shiny eyes and his disheveled hairs. Maybe he had looked more put together before, but to you, he was the most beautiful like this.

“- Will you be my girlfriend ?”

And you couldn’t help but reciprocate his smile and shake your head. Sometimes, he was very silly. Sometimes, he could be considered childish. But he was able to bring back sunshine when your days were filled with gray clouds, and he could make you laugh anytime you felt down. Your hands came up to cup his face, delicately brushing your thumbs against his cheekbones.

“- You know, you’re very charming Jake Sim, it’s hard to resist you.”

This time, it was him who hid in your neck, holding you even tighter if it was possible. And you giggled heartedly, a sound that Jake would never get sick of hearing. And maybe he had lost your game, but he had won something even more precious.

BONUS :

You picked up your phone when getting out of the store, holding a little plastic bag with everything you needed to cook a delicious breakfast for you and Jake. Speaking of whom, you had a bunch of messages from him, asking where you were, and if you had ran away. Texts saying how sorry he was if he was too pushy last night, that he would let you as much time as you wanted if it was what you needed. And endless apologies, over and over. You only answered with a quick message letting him know that you would be back quickly.

Meanwhile, Jake was really panicking. When he woke up and felt the space beside him empty and that your clothes weren’t littering the floor of his bedroom anymore, all remnants of sleepiness left his body, immediately looking around the apartment to see if you were anywhere. It was stupid, he knew it, if you had left, it was certainly for a good reason, but he couldn’t help asking himself if maybe you had come to the conclusion that you didn’t want to be with him. He sat down on one of the kitchen stools, biting his nails while waiting for you to say something else but you didn’t, and stress took over him again.

When you pushed the door open, you were only met with Jake's worried look waiting for you in the kitchen. He was only wearing the same pair of gray sweatpants as last night and you couldn’t stop your mind from going back to how good it all felt, but the object of your fantasies stopped your thoughts from going too far.

“- Where were you !?

- I was at the store down the street, to buy us breakfast.”

You lifted your bag and dropped it on the kitchen counter before making your way over to Jake until you could run your fingers through his hair. The hands of the boy came up to rest on your waist, only noticing now that you were wearing his clothes, his heart beating faster at the view.

“- Didn’t you see my note ?”

You looked around and saw that it was still where you had left it, immediately showing it to Jake who was getting more and more embarrassed for getting so worked up over something so stupid.

“- I’m sorry, I just thought that maybe you didn’t mean what you said last night and that you realized that this morning and decided to leave…”

Jake hesitantly looked up at your face to find you smiling fondly at him. You leaned down to place a kiss on his lips, and another one, and another one, until you had peppered his whole face with kisses and made him giggle shyly.

“- You’re an idiot if you think you’re going to get away from me so easily, I’m not letting you go.

- Good, because I don’t want you to.”

-> i don't allow any copies, translations or reposts of my post.

-> moon dividers by @samspenandsword

enha masterlist (fill in this to be added) :

@bbgnyx @hann1bee @iraisswiftie

#enhypen #enhypen fics #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #enha #enha fics #enha x reader #enha smut #jake sim #jake smut #jake sim x reader #jake x reader #college au #eli: lost the game

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sant-riley · 2 years

Text

[Random Task force 141 × gen z! member headcanons]

A/N: Reader goes by the codename Teddy in my writing! Along with she/her pronouns :) I am also extremely biased with Ghost so her main pairing is more towards with him compared to the others <3. I know absolutely nothing about the military so this is not accurate I am so sorry💀.

CWs: Dark Humor, Age gaps, Simping, crude humor, cursing. (not sure what else but lmk!)

Chances are, you're the youngest in the entirety of Task Force 141. Just a good couple of years younger than Gaz.

When Laswell brought her in to meet the group, they couldn't help but stare at her in confusion. A tiny girl who couldn't have been older than any of them. Soap couldn't help but chuckle while Ghost nudged him in the side to shut him up.

"This is your new rookie on the team, her callsign is Teddy. Treat her well."

All the men nodded, watching the younger woman shyly smile and wave towards them.

First they realized that her humor was, in Ghost's words, fucked.

Any minor inconvenience had her saying she wanted to be hit by a car or some type of bodily harm, Price quickly whirling around with eyes widened. "Now, I don't think that warranted that kind of response, don't you think?" "Oh it definitely did, Captain." And she'd walk away without another word.

He swears he gets gray hairs from everytime you make casual talk of you dying. He actively tells the others to check on you bc he genuinely don't know if you're serious or not.

Ghost is not up to date with shit, man uses no social medias oncesoever so everything she spouts is wildly out of pocket. References to basic things like tiktok, Twitter, Instagram? He just silently stares at you like you're on drugs. You can't really use your personal phone on base but you try your best to explain memes to him. He sighs and rubs his forehead with a groan of "I'm too old for this shit, teds." "Oh come on! You have to at LEAST know the meme about the marines eating crayons!" "What the fuck are you on about?

The only ones who know vaguely what the fuck you're on about sometimes are Gaz and Soap, despite them still being a few years older.

Granted, they are not caught up with everything but they actively make it a point on leave to try and be up to date bc of you and your mannerisms. Plus it makes you happy when they fire back a quote they learned.

Can yall imagine Soap on tiktok, what random shit he'd have on his fyp bc he doesn't know how the algorithm works 😭.

Teddy has made every single one of them a personal playlist when she does have her phone, Soap once caught her adding songs and hasn't stopped teasing her since. Price and Ghost pretend not to care and barks at Soap to leave her alone but they're equally curious. Ghost contemplates stealing her phone to see it.

Doesn't matter how serious or dark their job may be, you simp for fictional characters, loudly. Price has learned to tune it out, Ghost although slightly jealous, finds it endearing, Gaz and Soap indulge you and will actively ask about why you like the characters you do and how much you love them bc they like to see you excited. It's a nice feeling when they're always in life or death missions.

You're the smallest one in here okay, everyone can easily throw you without batting an eye so they all take turns training you! They all despite knowing you can take care of yourself, would still like to teach you all they know so should you come against a taller/stronger opponent, you'll be okay.

You are the most protected person in the entire squad, esp when going out for drinks, Ghost will put you in the middle between him and Price and basically make a wall of muscle around you. He says he doesn't care and that he just doesn't want to be pestered by creepy people coming up to you but he will literally stare down any man or woman who even tries. He is the creepy one in everyone else's scenario. Soap just laughs and tosses back his drink.

They all notice your ticks and tells, seeing your leg start to shake when you're anxious, when you start cracking your fingers when you're restless, how you will avoid eye contact at any cost. They start to find ways to soothe you in their own ways. Price will give you a pat on your shoulder, sending you a smile.

Gaz nudges you with his body to take your attention off the situation, or he'll simply start asking you random dumbass questions just to see your face change.

Soap will, if he has gotten permission before, just pick you up and throw you over his shoulder, running around with you while you scream for him to let you go. Is also not against tickling you straight up to get you to smile.

Ghost tried to be as subtle as he can be. If yall are sitting close to each other, he'll make sure some part of his body is gently pressed against yours. Whether it be his foot, thigh, hand, some part of him will ground you. You try and reassure him that you know he doesn't care for personal touch but he just says to shut up.

Meeting Graves was a trip, for everyone involved besides you and Grave. Absolutely having no control over calling him a irl Fix it Felix. You were on Graves shitlist and honestly you wouldn't be surprised he betrayed yall for that one comment bc of how angry it made him.

Constantly being told to be quiet, but you cannot help it and will make little quips over comms. Ghost takes after you and starts to say horrible "dad" jokes that make you choke trying to hold back. Soap hates both of you and calls you unfunny.

They realize you're impulsive, especially when you show the amount of tattoos you have.

"I joined the military to fund my tattoo addiction." "You know what? That's not even a surprise."

Going home on leave is always a bitter experience, you never look excited to go home. So one of the guys (usually ghost) will offer you to come with them. It helps 3/4 all live somewhere in England so it's easy to see them/ take trips to their place.

They're all attached despite knowing better. They can't help it and they know they care for you so much more than other force members.

Ghost and Soap bristle when Alejandro makes a mention that he'd offer you a spot in his team, impressed with how you can take opponents twice your size.

"¿Te interesaría quedarte en México?"

"The Hell she will."

If you'd like to be tagged in future works, please comment under my rules that are pinned to my blog!

#okay this got rambley real quick but hey its my blog i can do what i want #ghost <3 #soap <3 #price <3 #gaz <3 #call of duty #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #gen z!reader #simon ghost riley x reader #soap x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #john price x reader #headcanon #kayla writes <3 #fem reader

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rinhaler · 7 months

Text

So Tell Me What You Need

oliver aiku really really likes you ♡

✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors. ✧. ┊ ⁭yandere!oliver aiku x f!reader

Genre: college!au (++ smut) Notes: thank u 2 @chososdoll for doing gods work with this fic i hated it hehehe Warnings: 18+, serial killer mention, murder mention, weed mention, smoking, stalking ♡, manipulation, dub/noncon, 'just the tip' ♡, coercion, oral (m receiving), cock slapping ♡, facial, creampie ♡, praise, degradation, pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess, etc.) ♡ Words: 7.2k

The body of a young woman was discovered in the early hours of Thursday morning. It’s the third body in the last five months to be found, and an inside source has revealed that this is thought to be a pattern by one killer. The victims are all female and—

Your heart pounds as you shut off the TV in your front room. It’s the last thing you want to hear as the windows reveal the dark night sky outside. You don’t even see the stars above; the light pollution takes that comfort from you. All you can see is rows of apartments opposite to your own, some lit and some dim. Some with funky colours but most are warm white.

And your face flushes with heat as you notice one of the latter have a couple fucking up against a window before you turn away to face your roommate.

She notes your concern, but chooses to smirk and poke fun anyway.

“Maybe it’s your stalker,” she teases you. “You might be next.”

“That’s not funny.” you sigh, storming off to your room. You wince as you look at the abandoned study materials at your desk. You’ve been putting everything off for weeks, but your coursework and exams are the last thing on your mind.

You find yourself pacing around a little before you eventually decide to sit on the edge of your bed. There’s no way you can possibly sleep after hearing that. And your roommate’s poor joke has only made you more paranoid. So, what is there left to do?

Music might help, you think to yourself as you unlock your phone. You can barely do anything as your fingers begin to tremor while you look through your playlists. You’re interrupted, though, as a call from an unknown number fills your screen.

You mask your fear with anger, grunting as you swing open your bedroom door to yell at your friend.

“Stop it, Lacey! I’m going to have nightmares, I’m serious!” you yell. She looks at you, confused. You hold up your phone to show her the incoming call. But her eyes drop to the coffee table, her own phone discarded on top of it in favour of smoking from her bong.

“Answer it.” she urges you.

And you gulp, nodding, sliding the button across the bottom of the touch screen to take the call. You steel yourself, already knowing what’s coming as soon as you speak. It’s the same thing every single time. You don’t say a word, not for a few seconds. There isn’t a sound from either of you as you sit on the couch while your roommate’s eyes follow you.

“Hello?” you say, meekly.

It begins.

The heavy, repetitive breathing that sends a chill down your spine. She looks concerned, now. It’s the first time she’s been present when you’ve received a call. You’d started to suspect she didn’t believe you.

“Who the fuck is this?” she yells, snatching the phone from your hand. Their breathing stutters, it’s barely noticeable but you both pick up on it. It’s enough to make her hang up. “I— you should stay in my room tonight. W-With me.”

“Are you scared?” you ask her, earnestly. She doesn’t respond, but the fact that she’s packing away her drug paraphernalia is answer enough. “Thank you.” you smile, though you leave the room as you do.

You start scrolling through your contacts on instinct, tossing your phone onto your bed as you find the number you’re searching for and put it on loudspeaker as it dials. It rings and rings, and you start to worry you won’t get through. You undress, taking off your clothes from the day to change into your pyjamas.

“Hey you,” he starts. “S’pretty late, baby. Somethin’ wrong?”

“Oliver…” you start, legs buckling at the sound of his voice as you feel a combination of relief and guilt surge through you. You sniff, the pressure of your fear and other underlying emotions doing their best to overwhelm you. “My— The stalker called. Again.” you tell him, and you’re instantly met with a sympathetic coo.

“Do you want me to come over?” he asks. “Or do you wanna come here? I’ll pick you up, princess, s’not a problem.” he continues. You shake your head despite him not being able to see.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Sorry, I was just freaking out. Nice to hear your voice, though…” you smile a little, feeling shy all of a sudden.

“Alright. Only if you’re sure.” he speaks, clearing his throat. “I miss you, though. You better let me see that pretty face of yours soon.”

“Okay,” your smile widens. Once again nodding knowing he can’t actually see you right now. “Goodnight Oli.”

“Goodnight, gorgeous.”

Sharing a bed with your roommate helped. You didn’t even mind her snoring, it’s not like you’d expected to get much sleep anyway. You got enough to get you through the day, though. Classes went by without incident, and you didn’t feel yourself wavering at lunchtime like you have been recently.

The calls are unpredictable, you’re always on edge. There’s no specific times or days or even how many times he’ll call.

You walk back to your apartment alone. The winter sucks. It’s not particularly cold, but it’s dark when you get to your classes and then it’s dark again when you leave for the day. You feel like you’re going crazy, and you can’t pretend you aren’t scared of being outside alone when it’s so dark out.

A text notification frightens you enough to almost drop your phone. You don’t even remember turning your phone off silent. Though you can’t help but grin when you see who it’s from.

Oli: Wanna hang out tonight?

You: I’m too behind on my coursework ☹

You: Another time? x

Oli: Okay princess x

You take a deep breath, pocketing your phone as you continue your journey to your apartment. The elevator isn’t empty, but you don’t mind. If anything, you feel a little better to be around people. Your music plays softly through your earphones the whole time, and your anxiety finally begins to dissipate.

Although, it comes flooding back when you get to the door of your apartment.

It’s locked.

And, normally, that would be fine. But Lacey always finishes early on Monday’s. And she’s always home before you get here. Your mind instantly flickers to the phone calls. The stalker.

The news report last night.

Little hands tremble as you search pathetically through your tote bag until you find your keys. The metal clings and clangs as you search for the right one; you jump as they fall from your hands. Eventually, though, the right one is in your grasp and you open the door quickly.

There’s no sign of her. She isn’t smoking in the front room like you expect. You open her bedroom door without knocking, only to discover she isn’t there either. Deep breaths are taken in vain. You try to call her, but there’s no answer.

You: Are you okay?? Call me ASAP

Lacey: I’m fine! I’m at the frat hanging out with Eita 😇

“Oh thank God.” you sigh, all but falling to your knees when you read her reply. Instantly, you can’t help but think about what a slut she is when you think about her failing to tell you her plans because she’s decided to sneak off to ‘hang out’ with her toxic friend with benefits.

Your mind is clear, though your heart is still beating a mile a minute.

Oli: You’re really just gonna study all night? X

You: Thinking about ordering a pizza :P x

Oli: I like pizza you know 🙄x

You: Next time! Promise x

It’s crazy. It’s embarrassing, actually, how quickly he can put you at ease. You’ve only known him for a few months, but it feels like you’ve known him forever. You sigh, dreamily, as you recall how he had introduced himself to you and Lacey during welcome week. He had to squeeze in the fact he was the president of the most popular frat on campus.

Even then, he made you blush. Though you couldn’t act on it; you’d had a boyfriend at the time. But you’ve been single for almost as long as you’ve known Oli, since you dumped him a week or two after; when you realised you didn’t love him anymore. And, still, nothing has happened between you and Oliver.

You’re scared, truthfully.

You’re scared because you know he’s experienced and he’s confident. You know girls throw themselves at him and he knows he’s popular. You’re not a virgin, but compared to him you may as well be.

After clearing your throat and shaking your head to dismiss your train of thought, you start looking for food to add to your basket from your favourite pizza place. It’s so hard to choose, as much as you’d love to get everything, you’re basically broke.

Incoming call.

“Please, no.” your voice breaks as you speak out loud.

You shouldn’t answer. The number is private and you already know what’s going to happen. But you’ve tried that before. You’ve tried ignoring them, but they just keep calling until you answer.

You’re frozen, paralysed with fear as you contemplate what to do. Lacey isn’t here to support you this time. She won’t be coming back, either. So, do you really want to answer? Do you really want to deal with how many calls you’ll receive if you don’t?

The burden of dealing with this alone is too much to bear.

But you’ve been left with no other choice.

“H-Hello?” you whimper, eager to get it over with. The breathing starts, and you’re surprised that this time it’s enough to make you cry. And it’s not just a few tears falling. Whoever is on the other end of the call will undoubtedly know what you’ve been reduced to. “Please stop doing this. W-What do you want from me?” you cry.

It's useless, though, the breathing just continues.

“I can’t t-take it anymore, please, p-please…”

“Mmmmpf,” you hear, it’s cracked and strained and it makes you feel sick. You aren’t sure if you’re imagining things, or if this sicko is actually getting off to the sound of your anguish and desperate pleas. “Thank you.” they say, the voice is deep and distorted but it’s clear as day.

Your breath is trapped in your lungs. And for the first time, they hang up.

You just can’t anymore.

Can’t breathe.

Can’t function.

Can’t think.

You can think enough to call Oli, though. Tremoring digits manage to navigate away from the takeout website to bring up your text thread with Oliver once more. And you don’t hesitate to press the call button.

Your eyes are soaked, vision blurry like a smudged camera lens as you look around your barren apartment while you wait for him to pick up.

“Hi gorgeous,” he answers, a seductive lilt in his tone. If you weren’t so worked up, you’d be flustered. You can picture the smirk on his face as he talks, though you aren’t really listening. “What’s up, baby? Calling to brag about that pizza?”

“O-li.” you sniff, voice cracking after each vowel. He’s silent, but you hear him move. Like he’s sitting upright suddenly, ready to spring into action to rescue you. “He c-called. Again, Oli… again—”

“Shit.” he sighs. “Do you want me to—”

“Please… come get me. ‘m so scared, don’t wanna be here a-alone.” you whine.

“I’m on my way.” he tells you. “I won’t be long, baby. I promise. See ya soon, princess.” he finishes, cutting off the line as he rushes to his car.

Your body stiffens as the silence of your apartment hits you once more. You can’t waste time, though. So, you pack. You’re quick about it, too. You fill your biggest bag with toiletries, a change of clothes and sleepwear… and your coursework.

There’s no way you’ll be doing any work tonight, but you can at least pretend you’re functioning like normal. You can’t let this creep dictate your entire life, right? Maybe being with Oliver will actually keep you calm enough to actually get some of your work started.

Oli: I’m outside x

The black night sky makes your heart race as you walk out of your apartment. The winter cold is harsher in the bleak evenings. Your thin sweater isn’t enough to protect you from the air nipping at your skin.

It’s the least of your worries; all you can think about is the fact this stalker of yours could be watching you right now. It could be anyone. Someone from your class, someone you shared the elevator with, your next-door neighbour. The very thought makes your steps quicken. You’re hurrying to the elevator and bashing the button until it arrives. It’s the first time you’ve felt safe since you left your apartment, because you’re alone. But even then, your skin breaks into goosebumps as you look up at the CCTV camera in the corner.

You’ll never feel safe, not really.

You rush down the road when you see Oliver’s car in the distance. He honks, and it’s all you need to run to him. You’re running like an athlete, and it feels more humiliating than it should. You’re sure Oliver understands why you’re frightened; and you’re sure he won’t judge you for sprinting to the car. But, still, it feels pathetic.

You open the door roughly before you practically dive into the passenger seat. He moves out of the way a little as you throw your overnight bag into the back seat.

“Hey, you’re alright now. Yeah? I’ve got you.” he speaks softly, doing what he can to relax you. You almost melt into his touch as he tucks a hair behind your ear. You do, a little, your body almost melds to the plush leather seat. Your head falls backwards onto the head rest, and your lip begins to wobble. “Poor thing…” he sighs.

“D-Drive, please…” you say, voice weak and strained.

He nods, driving off towards the frat house.

“I wouldn’t worry, you know.” he tells you, putting his hand on your thigh as he drives slow and carefully. You don’t object to his advances, in fact, it’s a comfort to feel his warm hand on your bitter flesh. Even his rough thumb stroking your skin is a welcome feeling. “It’s probably your ex, princess.”

“You think so?” you wonder. “I don’t know… he didn’t take the breakup well, but—”

“You never know what people will resort to when they’re heartbroken, baby.” he tells you, uneven eyes focus on you even as he drives. It makes you nervous, but his calm demeanour forces you to ignore it. You trust him, wholly. “Plus, he knows he lost the best thing that’ll happen to him in his pathetic life.”

“… Oli.” you smile, looking down at your knees as you try to avoid his cocksure stare.

He doesn’t say another word for the rest of the journey.

You come face to face with Lacey as you walk through the grandiose double doors. You feel like a guest of honour as you enter the castle that Oliver Aiku reigns over. Everyone is filled with warm smiles and happy faces as you see them. But your expression in return is feeble. You try to smile, but you’re so downtrodden, and Lacey immediately knows why.

She doesn’t even care that you don’t say hello when you run by her on the stairs and hurry to Oliver’s room. Oliver remains at the bottom while he watches you flee.

“She got another call.” he informs your roommate.

“Fuck.” she hisses through her teeth as she looks back up the stairs. Her voice is filled with remorse as she thinks things through. “I shouldn’t have left her alone; I knew she was—”

“S’alright, Lace,” Oliver smiles, his pristine pearly whites instantly put her at ease. “You can’t be with her every second, don’t blame yourself.” his eyes are so warm and full of love, she sees it every time he talks about you. He’s good for you, she thinks. He’s so sweet about you and he’s crazy about you.

“Give her our best.” Eita tells him, putting a hand on Lacey’s shoulder as they descend the stairs. “We’re going to smoke in the garden.”

“Enjoy yourselves, kids.” Oliver smirks, winking at them before chasing after you.

He sees you making yourself comfortable in his room. You’re already undressed, and you don’t care that he can see you. He doesn’t dare look away, either. But you don’t mind. He watches as you put on the mismatched pyjamas you threw into your bag, and he sits beside you on the bed after you collapse backwards onto the mattress.

“I’m gonna change my number,” you whisper. “I should have done that in the first place…”

“Good idea.” he agrees. Your eyes flutter shut as you feel his hand rest atop your head, his thumb delicately stroking your forehead again and again. He swears he sees you fall asleep for a second before you scare yourself awake with a too heavy breath. “Should we get you that pizza?”

You nod, lightly.

“I’d like that.”

He’s the perfect gentleman. You’re lucky to know Oli, you think. That’s how you feel anyway, as he watches you in silence while simultaneously encouraging your efforts in getting your schoolwork done.

He was kind, and he was helpful. Telling you that you could take a break or stop all together for the evening when your food arrived. And so, you spent a good while making notes and studying textbooks.

“Atta girl.” he winks at you, teasingly, when you begin to scribble down words onto pages. “I’m proud of you, baby, don’t let that idiot get under your skin.”

“Thanks Oli, I—” you’re cut off by the sound of your phone vibrating. You look over your shoulder and back to the desk you’ve been sitting at for the last 35 minutes. “O-Oli…” you whimper, showing him your phone.

He sets his own phone down on his bedside cabinet as he focuses on yours. It’s them. Oliver takes your phone, eyes furrowed as he debates whether to answer or not - choosing to answer brazenly. He puts it on loudspeaker, if only so you can confirm it is indeed the man who’s been harassing you endlessly.

The breaths are heavy but also stifled. It’s like he’s trying to control himself. He’s trying to be quiet. Oliver looks at you for answers, but you don’t have any for him. You haven’t got a single solitary clue on how to deal with these calls anymore.

Nothing works.

“Keep messing with her, I’ll fuck you up.” he says sternly. He eyes you up to make sure you’re listening to him. He wants you, needs you, to know he’s going to protect you at any cost. “We know who you are, so knock it the fuck off.”

He presses the big red disconnect button and puts your phone down beside you on the desk. He’s a little taken aback when you rush into his arms, your head resting on his firm chest while your arms wrap tightly around his torso. His hand comes down gently on the crown of your head and hear him emit a soft chuckle. You can’t see the small smile etching its way across his face, but you know it’s there.

“I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you, okay?” he assures you. You feel like a different person, with him. It’s like you’re having an out of body experience when you find yourself lunging forward on your tippy toes to place your lips against his. His eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn’t pull away. Not right away, at least. He holds your shoulders after a few seconds go by. “Where did that come from?” he smirks.

“I don’t know, sorry… I just—” you’re interrupted by the sound of the doorbell ringing. You back away a little, smiling. “Saved by the bell.” you joke.

“I’ll go,” he closes the gap between you again, bending down to capture your lips in a soft, chaste kiss once again. “Find a movie or something, anything you want.” he whispers against your skin before parting from you.

You shiver, slightly, after he closes the door behind himself. The rational side of you knows that you’re fine. Nothing bad is going to happen right now. But you can’t help feeling safer with Oli around.

Maybe that’s why you kissed him.

You’re just so grateful to him.

“We should prob’ly go to sleep.”

You nod, agreeing when you see the time tick tick ticking on the plain black clock above his desk. A few hours had passed since the most recent call. You didn’t even pick a movie, you ended up watching some silly gaming videos on YouTube while you ate together.

It was divine.

And you can’t deny the possibility that it tasted better with a smile on your face and good company.

You get under the covers, your body feeling warmer as you watch Oliver circle the bed to turn off the light. He’d decided to forgo wearing anything to cover his chiselled body, and you suspect he did it on purpose.

The room is plunged into darkness until he uses the flashlight on his phone to guide his way back to bed. The mattress sinks behind you as he gets under the covers, and you only just manage to suppress a yelp when he presses his body against yours. You could quite literally dissolve under the pressure.

He smirks against the juncture between your neck and shoulder as he kisses you there, a desperate mewl escaping you in an instant. His hand rests on the curve of your hip, though his thick fingers begin to sink into your malleable flesh. You can’t even bring yourself to protest as you feel him not so subtly nudge his hips into you. And you can feel him.

“Oli… w-we shouldn’t.” you say, softly, the desperation clinging to your tongue gives away your true feelings instantly. You shouldn’t? That’s your opinion, clearly, as a rough hand winds its way around your body and up the baggy unflattering t-shirt you’d decided to wear.

“Are you sure?” he whispers against the hairs standing on end on the back of your neck. Words formulating in your mouth crumble to pieces when he squeezes the supple flesh of your breasts, alternating between them like he’s deciding which is his favourite. He experimentally rolls one of your nipples between his finger and thumb, and he’s mesmerised by the sound you release and the way you back your ass up against his aching length. He offers his own breathy sound in response. It’s almost a gasp. “You like this?” he wonders aloud despite knowing.

And you could cry as you nod.

It’s been so long since you’ve been touched. Since you’ve been loved.

And why should you put your needs on hold just because you’re a little scared?

“What about just the tip, princess?” he mutters, you feel your panties soak through as gravelly words enter your ear canal. He’s that desperate. He needs you that badly that he’s prepared to settle for just the tip. “Don’t you get it? Don’t you understand how much I need you, baby?”

“We r-really shouldn’t…” you tell him.

Even through the material of the top you’re wearing, you feel his rock hard body pressed heavily into your back. His hard-on makes you dizzy, you may as well be drunk from how much the room is spinning as you do all you can to resist.

“But you want to.” he tells you. He moves you onto your back and cages you in. He brushes his bulging sweats into your heat, his head drooping as he feels so close but so far to what he’s always wanted. Since the very moment he set his sights on you, he wanted this. “I can feel you, princess. You can feel me too, yeah?” he asks.

“Y-Yes, Oli… I feel you.”

“So stop fightin’ it.” he commands, though there’s a level of desperation interlaced with his words. He pulls down his sweats and his cock springs free, slapping against his abs and leaving a sticky smear against his tensing muscles. You whimper when he repeatedly taps his cockhead against your clit, even through the layers you’re wearing to cover it. Your toes curl. “Just the tip, sweetheart. C’mon, for me… been waiting so long for this.”

You don’t even answer before he hooks deft fingers into the waistline of your shorts. He leaves your panties, though. And you yelp as his fingers tease the pretty lace covering your drippy folds. He hums, he moans as his fingers run along the clothed length of your slit.

“You’re fucking soaking, baby. You need this cock, please. Let me fuck you. Why are you tryna deny yourself of a good time?”

And with that, you find yourself nodding dumbly.

He growls at your muted answer. It’s all he needs. It’s all he fucking needs and he’s happy his odd coloured eyes even manage to pick up on the gesture even in the dark. Could he have imagined it? He doesn’t know, nor does he care when your legs spread open for him like a flower once he moves your panties aside. The dewiness is cold against the crease of your thigh, but it’s barely noticeable as Oli spits down on your pulsing clit.

“Just the tip, o-okay?” you stutter.

“Mmm,” he answers. He hisses as your tight cunt swallows him, practically sucking in the head of his cock as soon as your entrance feels him. His eyes lose focus for a second and his breathing is erratic.

It’s happening.

It’s really happening.

He almost loses balance, hands settling on your bent knees so he can stabilise himself. You’ve been playing so hard to get for so long. And even you aren’t sure why.

He cups your face as he lowers his body on top of yours. His lips slot against your own as he kisses you passionately, though he breaks it soon enough.

“’m sorry.” he apologises. And you’re confused, only for a moment, before you feel his full-length plunge into your unprepped walls. Your hands fly to his back, nails digging and scratching over beautiful musculature and marking him like he’s yours “You’re fucking tight, baby.” he chuckles, kissing you again as his hips begin to gyrate.

“Oli, I said—”

“Don’t care.” he argues, already knowing what you’re about to say. “You feel too good. So tight f’me, princess. ‘n I’m making you feel good, yeah? Let me fuck you, stop thinking and take it.” he tells you, hips snapping harder to accentuate his point.

“Nngh—!” you moan, your nails still claw and mark at his back. He chuckles, darkly, as you draw blood. He doesn’t care, not in the least. He hadn’t expected you to be like this, but he can’t say he isn’t enjoying it. He kisses your neck as his thrusts get deeper and harsher. You feel his lips curve as you clench around him tighter.

He’s found your spot.

That perfect spot deep inside of your perfect cunt.

Your tight walls that now he’s certain were made for him to fuck. He pulls out, and it’s so brief. But the way you’re whimpering tells him how much of a good girl you are. You’re trained without even needing to cum. You’ve never been fucked so good.

After all of the sex you had with your ex, you didn’t know missionary could feel like this.

Doggy was always your favourite because it was the only time you could really feel anything with him. But this… you can feel him in your fucking throat. Your mind is blank as he pounds into you again and again at an unrelenting pace.

“Who’s making you feel good?” he mumbles into your ear. You feel close to passing out when he nibbles on your earlobe right after. Your cunt clenches and he laughs because he swears if you do that again you might actually break his cock. “Who’s fucking you so good, hm? Tell me who’s making your pretty pussy purr.”

“Y-You!” you gasp. “Oli, please! Please don’t stop.” you wail.

You can’t even feel embarrassed at the thought of anyone hearing you. Not when he’s dangling your first penetrative orgasm right in front of your face like a donkey with a hanging carrot. You mumble his name like it’s a prayer as he batters into your g-spot as if it were his soul reason for living.

“Waited too fuckin’ long for this,” he admits, the scruff of his facial hair scratches your skin as he gives you a filthy, sordid tongue kiss whilst continuing to assault the button deep within that will lead to your eventual ruin. And it’s close. It’s so fucking close and the two of you can feel it. “First time you’ve been fucked properly. That pathetic ex of yours—”

“D-Don’t,” you warn him, having no desire talking about your potential stalker when you’re so close to reaching your peak.

He grabs your face and squeezes until your lips pucker for him. Your eyes widen as he stares into them. You will listen to what he has to say, he’s making damn sure of it.

“Had a perfect pussy right in his face ‘n he didn’t know what to do with her.” he smirks. “No wonder you didn’t want him anymore.”

“Oli,” you sob. “Oli, please.”

“But I can make you cum.” he tells you. He frees your face and holds his hands under the bends of your knees. You feel every breath in your lungs escape as he folds you in half. He can’t help but laugh, not quite at your expense but it feels like that regardless. Only because he’s shocked. He can’t believe such a simple change could have you cumming so quickly for him. “Good girl, that’s it, baby.” he praises you.

“Haah, hah, aaaah! O-Oli! Mmmpf—!” you gasp, creaming around him pathetically as he drills his length in and out of you.

“I’ll make you cum t-that hard. Every fucking time, princess.” he stutters as he nears his own end. He isn’t sure, but he’s almost certain he sees your eyes cross as you cum for him. God you’re such a slut. He can’t believe you’ve been acting so coy and hard to get for so long. You’ll be addicted, now. You won’t be able to get enough now that you’ve experienced what a good fuck can really do for you. “Fuck. Fuuuuu-ck…” he finishes, still thrusting into you.

The warmth you feel coat your insides has your self esteem at an all time high. And you hate how much of a simple-minded girl you really are. As if guys won’t cum in anything they stick their dicks in if given the chance. And, still, you feel so special that Oliver Aiku chose you to be his own personal cum dump for the night.

His sweet words and ability to make you unravel make you feel more meaningful to him than you really are. He kisses you repeatedly before collapsing by your side. His seed dribbles out of your spent cunt and, now, you feel disgusting. But it doesn’t take long for him to catch his breath and move to spoon you again. He puts his softening length back inside, intent on keeping you plugged up with the goal of falling asleep like this.

“T-Thank you… Oli…” you whisper.

He doesn’t speak.

But a sweet kiss on your shoulder is all you needed from him.

“Oliver.” you whisper.

He grunts in response, and that’s all. You consider saying his name again. You consider saying it a little louder this time so he’ll hear you. But instead, you drop it. If anything, it’s probably a blessing. You raise your head a little to check where all of your belongings are. If he’s so out of it that he can’t even respond to his name, you should take the chance to sneak out before anyone can tease you about your antics.

You’re expecting an earful from Lacey. She’ll want to talk about every sordid detail. And, truthfully, you’d rather die. You’re embarrassed. You’re ashamed of yourself for even having sex on your mind when you’re dealing with a stalker.

The thought of the other guys seeing you is filling you with embarrassment, too. You know already without even seeing them that everyone knows what you did. You were so loud, both of you were. And in the moment, you didn’t care. Oliver didn’t either, but he’ll wake up not caring too.

Guys that hadn’t heard you fucking will have definitely been told by now. You’ll be greeted by smirks and torment on your way out of the frat. You should have known this would end up happening. It’s been obvious how much Oliver wanted this for a long time, and you held off, but last night you were weak.

So weak, and now you want to runaway from the scene of the crime.

You’re taken aback as you try and get out of bed but you’re pulled straight back into Oliver’s arms.

“Where’d you think you’re going?” he asks.

Fuck.

As if he couldn’t get any sexier, of course his morning voice is hot. It’s coarse and rugged and you instinctively melt back into his arms. You’ll tell him. You will tell him that you’re leaving. Right after you grind on him a little bit.

Just a little bit.

“I h-have to go,” you lie. “I’ve got things to do, Oli.”

“Mmm, don’t care. Got morning wood, feel it?” he asks. His arm snakes around your body and his palm flattens against your stomach so that your ass is pressed against his erection once again. “Can’t go ‘til you do something about it.”

“Oli I, aah, fu—! N-Not fair…” you mewl as his fingers dip into your panties and his fingers begin to play with your silky clit.

“Suck me off.” he commands, his touches on your clit become lighter and lighter until he stops completely. “I’ll finger you ‘til you’re droolin’ if you suck this cock f’me, princess.” he stuffs his wet fingers into your mouth so you can taste yourself. It catches you off guard, and you sputter around them. But as he continues to finger fuck your face, you begin to mewl around his thick digits. “Good girl, just suck my cock like that.”

He reaches behind his head and throws a pillow to the ground for you. He lifts you so you’re facing him, and can’t quite believe how seamlessly he manages to carry and move you exactly where he wants.

And then you remember, he’s experienced.

He sits on the edge of the bed whilst your legs are wrapped around his waist as you make out. He bites your lip and encourages you to drop to the ground. You nod, reluctantly, worried that you won’t be able to give the performance he’s hoping for.

But regardless, he watches as you move the pillow across the floor and between his feet so you can kneel on it.

You whimper a little as your legs widen as you kneel, feeling last nights ejaculate slowly drip out of you and onto his fresh, pristine pillow. He doesn’t care, though. His dick is soaked from your cunt and his pre. And it’s all you can think about as he lightly slaps it against your nose and lips.

Your jaw loosens and your mouth is a perfect ‘O’ shape for him to slot into. His fingers lace through your hair as he slowly lowers you onto his cock. You hadn’t noticed in the dark, but he’s uncircumcised. You’ve never seen a dick like his before.

Your hand wraps around his length as you take him into your mouth, but you soon pull away again. You can’t believe how much easier it is to work someone with foreskin.

He smirks, seeing the thoughts go through your head. He’s so sensitive and receptive and you’re clueless. He’s practically putty in your hands and yet you think he’s the one in control. You’re so cute and naïve.

He loves girls like you.

“Suck it, princess.” he commands. “S’not a toy, y’know. Suck my dick clean.”

You clear your throat before sinking down onto his length once again, finding a steady rhythm to suck and lick and take him down your throat. He’s average length, but he’s girthy. It’s hard to take, honestly. Compared to your pencil-dicked ex, your eyes are watering and you’re doing anything and everything not to choke or gag.

He sees it, too, he’s got a perfect view as he tugs at your hair to make sure you’re keeping eye contact with him as you suck him dry.

“That’s a good slut,” he smirks through a heavy breath. “Take this dick, jus’ like that…” he continues.

Your thighs squeeze together as he degrades you. You don’t like it, you don’t like that you’ve become a slut after being his princess. But at the same time, you love it. You want to hear it again. So you take him deeper. And deeper.

“Such a dumb girl letting that loser ex of yours stick his dick in you.” he says, licking his lips as he pushes your head lightly. His chest rises and falls rapidly as the pressure of his hand intensifies until your nose brushes against brunette curls, and then squishes against his pubis. “And now he’s stalking you… what do you think he’d do if he knew you were sucking this cock?” he asks, his voice breathy and desperate as his hips start to buck.

You try to pull away, but the barely trying effort of his hand keeping you in place is somehow stronger. He coos as you stutter, struggling to breathe through the desperation.

“Breathe through your nose, stupid.” he tells you. “Good cock makes pretty girls like you real dumb.” he smiles.

He yanks at your hair until you’re fully removed from his cock. Pre and dribble pools from your mouth as you gasp desperately. You want to be mad at him, you want to tell him not to speak to you like that.

But you can’t.

Not when his lips are on yours and you feel yourself getting off from the idea of him tasting himself on your tongue. You’re breathless and out of words when he breaks it momentarily, and the sound of tacky masturbation is like a tidal wave in your ears.

“My pretty little slut, aren’t you?” he asks, kissing you again before you can answer. You can’t answer when your head is so empty. Is that really what you are? It doesn’t matter, you suppose. He’s already decided for you. “God, don’t you have any self-respect? Don’t you think you deserve better than being a stupid slut for me?”

His face contorts as he jerks himself harder and faster. You’re too busy thinking about his question to notice, though. You suck his tip into your mouth before he forces you away. His intimidating glare telling you that he’s looking for an answer this time.

“M-Maybe…” you pout, eyes wet and wide as you wonder aloud. Do you deserve better? Isn’t this all your good for? He’ll keep you safe, at least. He seems to like you more than any other girl on campus. He’s the best fuck you’ve ever had and you’re way more into him than you’d ever let on.

And just the as word leaves your lips, he’s moaning boisterously. Your face painted in white, pearly cum. A showing of just how much worth you have in his eyes. It feels almost endless as he gives you a full facial, hissing as it drips from your eyelash and into your eye.

He scrapes some of it from your face and force feeds it into your mouth.

You’re disgusting, too, because you suck without question.

“Fuck, you’re nasty.” he laughs. He lifts you up from the ground and tosses you onto the bed with little care. You almost want to cry from the stinging sensation you feel in your eye. You should have left when you had the chance. Instead you’re starting off the morning and Oliver Aiku’s cum rag. You don’t feel much better when he throws your shorts at you. “Clean yourself up.”

You try your best, focusing the material around your eye area as you try to do some sort of damage control. You see him tuck his dick into his sweats with your unaffected eye, and he swaggers towards the bedroom door.

“Where are you going?” you ask.

“I’ll get you a towel, wait here.” he tells you.

He hastens down the stairs and walks into the kitchen. The frat is bare, he suspects most of the guys must still be in bed. Though as soon as he rounds the corner, he notices Eita sitting at the kitchen table. They share a knowing smirk, silently celebrating the fact that Oliver finally got what he wanted out of you.

Oliver pours himself a bowl of cereal, leaning against the counter as he crunches it between his teeth. Eita looks up from his phone after a few moments of silence and finally speaks.

“Did you fuck her, then? Or—”

“Fucked her stupid. ‘n she sucked me off this morning.” he smirks, slurping the milk on his spoon as he thinks about your pretty face covered in his seed. “All thanks to you, my friend.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Eita laughs, pulling a cigarette from behind his ear and igniting it with a lighter from his pocket.

“No no, really, thank you.” he laughs, “I got to be her knight in shining armour when you called her last night. She was so easy to fuck after that.” he grins, holding a fist out for him to bump. Eita chuckles, trading which hand holds his cigarette before returning the gesture.

“You’re such a sick fuck.” Eita laughs, scrolling through his phone. “Look,” he shows his screen to Oliver. He can only laugh when he sees yet another article about the psycho serial killer that has made your anxiety worse than it already would be with a stalker on the loose.

“I’m not the one killing girls, am I?” Oliver comments, “Just scaring one girl with some heavy breathing.” he shrugs.

Even he isn’t twisted enough to think whoever this local serial killer is isn’t completely fucked up. But he can’t deny that it started happening at the perfect time. After he set his plan in motion to be your stalker. After he planted a seed in your mind that he’d always be there for you if you needed him. He’d always protect you no matter what happened, and he wasn’t about to let this stalker get to you.

You fell for it. Hook, line and sinker. You’re even starting to suspect your stupid limp dick ex because he told you to suspect him. Oliver Aiku, the guy who’s always around when you need him most. The guy who’s always just a phone call or text message away. The guy who’s always offered to be by your side and jump in harms way to protect you.

Oliver wasn’t even on your radar.

Perfect Oliver.

Sweet Oliver.

#oliver aiku x reader #oliver aiku smut #oliver aiku x you #aiku x reader #aiku smut #aiku oliver x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock smut #bllk smut #blue lock x fem!reader #tw smoking #tw stalking #tw manipulation #tw dubcon #tw coercion #tw praise #tw degradation

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sodaabaa · 4 months

Text

wings a court of thorns and roses

rhysand x reader reader is mesmerized by rhysand's wings and he makes a tempting suggestion.

tw: slightly nsfw

playlist here!

I was sitting in my room when I heard the front door slam. I could feel his anger, a whole level above him, through closed doors. I put the sketchbook I was holding on my desk as I got up to see what all the commotion was about. As I made my way down the spiraling stairs, I saw Rhys storm into his room, shadows trailing behind him. I glanced at Cassian and Mor, raising my eyebrows in question. They simply shook their heads, don’t push him.

I felt another pulse of anger through the bond, he must’ve been infuriated if he let these surges of emotion pass through the bond. I looked at his door, contemplating whether he’d kill me if I tried to talk to him. I had to try, at the very least.

As I walked across the hall, Mor grabbed my arm. “Hybern used faebane. He’s angry, give him some space to cool down.”

I shook my head, “he could be injured, let me just check up on him.”

She let go of my arm but I could sense her and Cassian say a silent prayer for me to walk out of that room alive. I rolled my eyes at them, mustering up all the courage I had before walking towards his door.

I took a deep breath and cracked the door open to peer inside, hoping he couldn’t sense me behind the door.

“Come in if you dare. I won’t kill you but I make no promise to spare those morons in the hall.”

Humor. That’s unexpected. This shouldn’t be that hard, seeing how he was cheery enough to mock Cassian and Mor still.

I walked in, my feet shuffling against the obsidian floor. He was standing before the window, gazing at the starless night sky, as if the stars too, could feel his anger and decided against shining tonight in solidarity for their High Lord. His wings were out. Wings. This was the first time I’d seen them. They were identical to Cassian and Azriel’s wings and dark, so dark that it seemed to eat up any light that dared to shine around them. What would it be like, to use those onyx wings as a backdrop for a starry night sky?

“Are you hurt?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

He removed his attention from the window to answer my question. “Not badly. I’ll heal.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Silence. His attention turned back to the mountains in the distance. “He baited me. I should have been more careful. Should’ve known about the faebane.”

I paused, unsure of how to respond.

“You can’t know everything. It was a slip up, now you know how to handle confronting him next time.”

“Next time I see him, it won't be to confront him.” He grumbled. A simple threat, frightening nonetheless.

Again, my eyes wandered to his wings. Imagining the things I could paint. The moon illuminating snow capped mountains, stars glittering like diamonds against the black of his wings.

If you’d like to paint my wings, darling, all you have to do is ask.

I was mid gasp when I coughed instead, earning a chuckle from Rhys. I had forgotten about my shields all night since I’d been painting in my room, no use for mental barriers when there was no one around.

He turned, facing me expectantly.

“You’re not serious.” I said.

He merely raised his eyebrows.

“You’re injured.” Excuses. I knew that was just an excuse. To paint him, I’d have to get too close to him. I wasn’t ready for that.

No need to be afraid, I won’t bite.

I cursed him, “pig.”

A breathy laugh.

“Cassian and Mor were terrified of you just then. I’m pretty sure they prayed I’d come back in one piece.” I said.

He shifted, his eyes dropping to the floor. “They know better than to cross me while I’m angry.”

“You don’t seem very angry, quite the opposite actually.”

He hesitated for a second. “You’re a soothing presence.”

I looked away, cheeks heating up.

“Paint my wings.” He said, breaking the silence.

I opened my mouth in protest but hesitated when our eyes met. His violet eyes were full of hope and anticipation.

“Fine.” I huffed, a sly smile creeped onto his lips. Night Triumphant indeed.

I made my way to the door to gather my paints but before I could even walk a step, Rhys waved his hand and my paints along with brushes appeared on his bed.

I shot him a playful look which he returned.

“Alright, lay on your stomach then. If you get hurt any further, it’s your fault.”

“I’d gladly let you hurt me darling.” He retorted.

I bit back a laugh, “who knew the High Lord of the Night was a masochist. I’d pegged you to be the sadist type.”

A devilish grin and equally vicious eyes narrowed at me. “I’m whatever you want me to be, angel.”

I fought the butterflies in my stomach, urged them to go away.

He sprawled out on the silk sheets, his wings laid out before me. I readied my paints and leaned over him, standing on the edge of the bed to start the base layer. It wasn’t the most comfortable position but it would have to do. Though it seemed like Rhys had other plans.

“It’d be much easier if you took a seat, darling.” Despite not being able to see his face, I could hear the smirk in his voice.

“I’m not sitting on you Rhys.” I said.

“You wouldn’t want the throne to go cold would you darling?”

I rolled my eyes, “I’m not gonna make this comfortable for you Rhys.”

His response was that breathy laugh, the one that made my skin burn and my stomach flutter. I made sure my shields were up before climbing onto his hips, my thighs on either side of him.

“This seems pretty comfortable to me, what happened to the promise of pain?” He taunted.

I smacked the back of his head, “let me paint in peace.”

“You make me suffer, angel.”

“Good.” I replied.

For the next hour, I lost myself in painting his magnificent wings. Time slipped away as I focused on getting every star, every cloud, every snowy mountain right. Rhys seemed to enjoy the quiet as well, his head resting on his arms as he watched me in the mirror. I tried not to shy away from his gaze.

“I think I’m done.”

“Finally, my back is aching.”

I winced, I completely forgot he was hurt. I scrambled to get off him but before I could, he turned onto his back, positioning his hands on my waist, keeping me straddled on his hips.

“Rhys! The painting!” My eyes widened, the paint was going to smudge. He was laying on his back now, watching me panic before saying, “Don’t worry, it’s dried. I made sure of it.”

A sigh of relief left my lips.

“Then let me off.”

“I don’t think I will.”

I stilled.

He was gazing over my face, taking in what was before him. A hand came up to wipe away a smudge of white paint on my collarbone. I shivered when his cold hand touched my warm skin. He lifted himself up with ease, his face inches away from mine. My cheeks were bright red, my eyes dropping to his chest and my hands fiddling with the threads of my sweater. His featherlight touch traveled from my collarbone, up to my neck and stopped at my chin, gently lifting my face to meet his. I looked up at him through my eyelashes, eyes narrowed. His lips were no longer twisted in that arrogant smirk, eyes no longer held that devilish gaze. His lips were parted in anticipation, violet eyes pining with desire.

“Are you gonna do something or just stare.” Barely a whisper.

Within seconds his hands were gripping the back of my neck, bringing my lips to his in a hungry, desperate, burning kiss. We were wind and water, violent waves crashing against jagged rock. His hands roamed under my sweater, drinking every curve, every edge. My hands mirrored his, wrapping around his broad shoulders and then traveling down his solid chest. I couldn’t get enough of him, couldn’t get close enough despite being flush against him. He withdrew from the kiss, taking a breath, looking into my eyes, searching for hesitation. I smiled at him, don’t stop. The devilish smirk was back. His lips trailed down my jaw, my neck, my collarbone, there wasn’t an inch of me he didn’t claim. His hands held my waist so hard I knew they’d be bruised in the morning. I didn’t care, I wanted every bruise, every mark he gave me.

What shall I be for you tonight, angel? Sadist?

He brought his hand to the back of my head, gripping a fistful of hair and pulling back. I whimpered as he used the opportunity to leave bite marks all over my exposed neck.

His grip softened, his lips now trailed further down and lightly kissed the hollow of my neck.

Or shall I worship your body?

He flipped us over, pinning my hands on either side of head. I was trapped between his strong, tattooed arms.

I don’t care what you do to me, just never stop touching me.

He smiled brighter than the north star. His lips brushed over my ear, “your wish is my command,” he breathed.

#acotar #rhysand #acomaf #feyre archeron #rhysand x reader #acotar fanfiction

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f1goat · 10 months

Text

more than friends + lando norris x part five

In which your best friend wants to help you so you get more sexual experience, but he discovers quickly that he never wants to share you and your new sexual experience with others.

masterlist - playlist

warnings: smut with a plot or a plot with smut? :) minors dni! i never proofread so probably grammar or spelling errors

requested: yes, based on: something with a driver sister that’s still a virgin & lando (her bestfriend) suggests to teach her things (ofc pretending for it to bot mean anything), while he’s actually in love with her

part one / part two / part three / part four

You can’t help yourself and stare at Lando, just like a lot of others are doing right now. He’s absolutely glowing and taking in the attention he’s getting. After his deleted lap time from yesterday, he came back stronger then ever. Right now he’s standing on the podium claiming his well deserved trophy for the second place in the race. You smile while staring at him. Podiums look good on him. Insanely good.

“You did so good!” You almost scream when Lando comes to you later day afternoon. He’s still glowing from his podium. You can smell the faint odor from the champagne. You wonder about kissing Lando, will you taste it then? Lando doesn’t talk at first, he just hugs you. You continue to praise him in the mean time.

“You know what this means, right baby?” Lando eventually whispers into your ear. You think back at his words from yesterday. Is he serious? “I want you to get into my drivers room, so I can get my celebration right after debriefing,” Lando tells you.

You feel your cheeks heating up and reddening. Fuck.

“Can you wait there for me babygirl?” Lando asks you. You can only nod as response, if you even knew what to say right now you’re sure the words would get lost on your tongue. Lando makes things even worse by pressing a kiss against your forehead. You wish you could feel his lips on yours right now, but you’re fully aware of all the cameras around you. Tomorrow - or maybe this afternoon already - you will see this fragment of your life all over your socials.

Lando walks away from you. You know what to do now. Lando was clear about his wishes, and who are you to deny them from him? Without giving it a second thought, you walk towards the McLaren motorhome. It’s not hard to get into Lando his drivers room, probably because everyone around you knows who you are. Instead of talking to the mechanics who are still here instead of getting ready to party, you walk directly towards Lando his drivers room. They let you.

In Lando his drivers room you suddenly start to feel a bit nervous. What does Lando expect from you? He made his wishes clear yesterday and today. Apparently he wants to eat you out? The thought alone makes you feel more nervous. Although you have no idea why. Lando is probably pretty good at it, so it will be more of a celebration for you then him. Right? Maybe it’s the thought of Lando coming this close to your private parts. What if they don’t look good enough? You try to shake off those thoughts.

You know that a debrief can cost some time, so you try to kill the time by scrolling on your socials. You like every post about Lando his podium. When you see a notification from Lando popping up on your screen, you almost drop your phone on the floor. Is he serious?

Lando: 5 minutes babe

Lando: maybe you can already lose some clothes ;)

The thought of waiting for Lando while being in your lingerie only - or maybe even naked, makes you feel all kind of things. Your stomach is tightening by only the thought already. You don’t even realize that you’re already kicking of your sneakers. It feels like everything is happening on some sort of automatic pilot. You don’t even think about the possibility of other people walking in to this room. Even though the possibility is kinda high. You don’t care about things like that right now. In no time is the floor covered in the clothes you were wearing earlier. The only thing left on your body is your lingerie. It’s a black set, nothing to exciting, but it does look nice. You doubt a bit if you want to keep it on or off. Eventually you decide to take it off as well.

Thank god for the warm weather today, because you’re already shivering from only the thought that Lando can come in any second. It feels weird to wait here for him while being naked. You realize that Lando never saw you naked before. All the cons are weighting up, but you can’t stop thinking about Lando finding you like this. Will this be what he expected? Or will this be a surprise for him?

When the door opens you start to feel extremely aware of your surroundings and your own bareness. You’re relieved when you see that Lando is the one to open the door. He is quick to close the door when he sees you waiting for him. After that he’s even quicker to get towards you.

Lando can’t tear his eyes away from you. He realizes that he’s staring and that there’s a chance that it makes you feel uncomfortable right now. But he really can’t look away from you. He never saw you like this before. All the things that happened between the two of you before, happened with you in clothes. He can’t say he didn’t imagine about your body before, but in some way it’s even more beautiful then he already thought. He lets his gaze go over every small detail of your body.

He looks at your breasts and notices the way your nipples resemble small pebbles. He wants nothing more then to shower them in kisses right now. He wants to take your nipple into his mouth until he felt the hardness of it on his tongue, only to switch over to your other nipple after that. He lets his stare slide towards your most private part. You’re sitting with your legs crossed over each other, causing him to imagine the way your pussy will look.

It can’t be right that you’re without a doubt the girl who has the most impact on him. Seeing you like this has made him rock hard in only seconds. His dick is throbbing painfully. He remembers himself that this is about you - and not about him. You’re the most beautiful girl he has ever seen, with and without clothes.

You feel uncomfortable when Lando doesn’t say anything. Was it a mistake to undress this far already? When you start to think about questioning him about it, Lando lets out a soft sound. You look at him. Lando is still taking in your body. You notice that he’s looking at you full with adoration, or are you making that up?

Lando comes closer and closer to you. When he’s finally close enough, he eagerly puts his mouth onto your lips. He gives you a soft peck on the lips before moving the two of you towards the couch in the drivers room. Lando pulls you onto his lap, instead of normally this time he makes sure you face him. He doesn’t want your body to get out of his sight right now.

He presses a kiss against your neck. “Fucking hell babygirl,” he finally mutters. Then he presses another kiss against your body, this time it’s to your collarbone. “I didn’t expect to walk into you being naked already,” Lando continues to say to you, “Such a beautiful surprise,” he adds before pressing his lips against your body again. He presses multiple kisses against your body, at first closely to your collarbone again but after a bit he moves his lips down. He’s getting close to your breasts.

You’re already trembling under Lando his touch. Lando grunts. “Can I touch you babygirl?” He asks you. You’re quick to tell him yes. Lando takes on of your breasts into his hand, he kneads it while looking at you.

“You’re such a good girl,” he tells you.

Your stomach tightens. You feel your cheeks reddening. Why are those small words doing so much to you? You’re glad that Lando isn’t paying attention to your face, because you’re sure that it’s reddish from blushing this much. Lando is busy paying attention to your breasts. He lowers his face to get closer to your tits. He is still kneading on of them. You almost jump up when you feel his lips against the other tit. He presses soft kisses against it, before sucking on the skin. You quietly follow Lando his movements with your eyes. It doesn’t take him long before pressing a kiss against your hardened nipple. After that he takes your nipple inside his mouth. Softly you feel him suck onto it.

When Lando pulls back, you let out a soft whimper. Lando switches his movements. He moves his hand away from your breast, to put it back onto the other one. He presses kisses against your tit that he was kneading earlier. Before you realize it, your other nipple is in his mouth.

It surprises you when you feel your pussy clenching. It amazes you that you even start to feel that you’re getting pretty wet. Lando his mouth is doing all kind of things to you, but you can’t complain about one tiny part of it.

Lando removes his lips and hand from your breasts again. This time he moves his hands downwards, he is quick to get close to your private parts. It annoys you when he doesn’t touch you where you need him, but keeps a bit above of the place. Suddenly without realizing it, you let out a soft whine.

“What’s wrong babygirl?” Lando asks you. You notice the small smirk on his face. It makes you realize that he’s doing this on purpose. What a tease. You can’t tell him that, every word that leaves your mouth is begging Lando to do something about the way you’re feeling.

“I need you,” you softly whimper.

Lando lets out a low groan. Fuck, what you just told him makes him even harder. That’s actually insane. He moves his hands away from your vagina even further. He softly lifts you up and puts you next to himself onto the couch. Only to get of the couch himself after that. He takes your legs into his hands. Slowly he spreads your legs for him.

You look at Lando. He doesn’t look back at you. All his attention is onto your slit. Before you can feel uncomfortable about it, Lando starts to shower you with compliments about it.

“Such a pretty pussy,” Lando tells you with a low voice. He lets his hand slide around it carefully. He makes sure that he isn’t already touching your clit or entrance, he focuses himself onto your lips. He enjoys teasing you a bit. This is his celebration after all, right? He looks at the frustrated emotions that you’re displaying on your face. He realizes that you really need him. Lando never wants you to need anyone else.

He softly spreads your lips a bit with his hands.

“So beautiful,” he continues to tell you.

This time he slides his finger through your slit. It surprises him how wet you’re already are. He coats his finger in your slick.

“So wet already,” he murmurs to you.

He presses a soft kiss against the inside of your thighs.

“Is that all for me babygirl?” He asks you.

“Yes,” you tell him eagerly.

“Who’s the one who made you this wet?” Lando continues to ask you. He needs to hear you say it. He needs to hear it that this is all because of him.

“You Lando,” you softly confess, “It’s all for you.”

Lando lets out a soft moan after hearing your words. He presses a few more kisses against your thighs. He moves a bit closer to your pussy, but makes sure that he isn’t coming closer then your lips. You let out a frustrated whine.

“I need more Lando,” you tell Lando a bit ashamed.

Lando presses a soft kiss against your clit this time. He’s quick to move away from it after making his move.

“More,” you whimper.

Lando grins. He softly slides his finger over your clit a couple times, but makes sure that it’s not enough. He presses more kisses against your inner thighs. Suddenly he starts to think about you begging him. The thought is making him even harder. He looks at you. How hot would it be if you ask him to lick you?

“What do you need baby?” Lando asks you.

He makes sure that his finger is laying dangerously close to your clit right now. Almost onto it, but still a bit too far away.

“You,” you whimper.

“No, no,” Lando tuts, “I asked you, what do you need? What do you want me to do babygirl?”

You stay silent for a bit. Lando moves his finger even closer to your clit. Softly he touches it. It makes you tremble under his touch. It’s unfair what he’s doing to you. It’s even more unfair how fast he can make you feel like this. For a few seconds you wonder if anyone else can make you ever feels like this, you highly doubt it.

“If you don’t tell me baby, I can’t make you feel any better,” Lando teases you.

“Fuck,” you groan, “Tease.”

“Just tell me babygirl,” Lando continues to tease you.

“I want you to, fuck,” you stutter, “I want you to lick me.”

Lando doesn’t reply verbally anymore. He presses a soft kiss against your clit before starting to do what you asked from him. Slowly he licks around your pussy. He makes sure to lick every tiny part of it, before coming back to your clit. He presses another kiss against it, before using soft licks onto it. He makes sure that he’s not going to fast, but also not to slow. He wants you to enjoy this as much as he’s enjoying it right now. He increases his pace a bit after hearing you letting out multiple moans.

In the mean time he slides his finger around your slit. He slowly brings it to your entrance, but doesn’t push it inside. Yet. Lando knows it’s teasing and maybe even a bit mean, but he needs to hear you beg even more for him right now. He has fallen in love with the desperate voice you used earlier with him. He wants to know that he’s the one who makes you feel like this and that you need him to come.

You buck your hips. Hopefully Lando gets the hint. You want his finger inside of you. Maybe even more then one now that you think of it. Lando doesn’t response to your movement. You open your eyes to look at him. To your surprise he’s already looking back at you. Before speaking up, you admire the way he looks between your legs.

He’s still making short licks onto your clitoris. Sometimes he switches and licks around your whole slit. But the things he’s doing to your clit right now, are the things that feel the best. Although, you can use a bit more.

“More,” you softly say.

“More?” Lando asks you. You let out a soft whimper when he removes his mouth from your pussy. He looks at you. His finger replaces the movements his tongue made earlier. It still feels good, but not as good as before.

“Please,” you beg Lando.

“Tell me what you want baby,” Lando states. He increases his pace with his finger. He likes looking at you while you look like this. You’re shaking underneath his touch. Moans are falling out your mouth like they’re your new language. Lando wishes he could save this memory so he could look back at it to see all the small details, again and again. His cock is throbbing even more painfully then before. He needs release as well.

“How longer you take, how longer you will miss my tongue onto your pussy,” Lando tells you. He hears a soft whine leaving your lips.

“I need your fingers,” you eventually confess.

“Ask me,” Lando tells you sternly. He can’t help himself. He has fallen in love with your pleads.

“Can you finger me?” You ask Lando softly with red cheeks, before Lando can say anything you add another word. “Please Lan?”

His boner almost explodes when hearing the soft please Lan coming from your lips. He doesn’t say anything anymore, he’s quick to move his lips back to your clit and to move his fingers to your entrance again. This time he licks your clit even faster. He hears moans coming from you. Is it bad that he’s getting addicted to that sound? He realizes that he wants to hear you like this forever. No one else should ever hear you like this he even thinks.

Lando pushes one of his fingers softly inside of you. He feels your walls clenching around his finger. Easily he pushes in and out of your pussy. It doesn’t take him long before using another finger. He starts to finger fuck you with two of his fingers. In the mean time he focusses on eating you out. He softly sucks onto you clit. It makes you almost scream.

“Lan,” you loudly moan when he sucks a bit harder onto your clit.

He doesn’t response verbally, he just keeps increasing his pace. Waiting for you to come. Your walls are starting to clench even more around his fingers. Lando feels how your clit is starting to throb inside his mouth. You feel your stomach tighten. Moans keep coming out of your mouth. You can’t stop yourself.

“I’m close,” you tell Lando. He reacts by sucking harder on your clit. He moves his fingers faster inside of you. He notices a soft spongy spot inside of you and gives it all his attention from now on. You let out a hard moan.

“Can I come?” You suddenly ask Lando.

He’s overwhelmed by your question. Fuck. It’s insane how it feels that you’re asking him for permission to come. In the mean time you have more trouble with holding back your orgasm. You feel waves of pleasure hitting over you.

“Lan?” You quickly ask.

Lando removes his lips from your clit for a couple seconds. No longer then necessary. “Of course babygirl,” he tells you before sucking harshly onto your clit again. He repeats his movements from earlier, but his eyes are focused on your face. He looks at the way you close your eyes when the first waves of your orgasm are washing over you. He notices the way your lips are partly open, only to let out a couple of soft moans. When you press your legs closer together, Lando stops his movements and pulls back. He doesn’t want to overstimulate you. At least, not today. It would be a nice thing to do in the future.

Lando waits for you to say something. In the mean time he sucks your slit of his own fingers. He takes place next to you on the couch. You quickly lay down against him.

“Fuck,” you mutter, “that was really good.”

“Glad that you liked it,” Lando replies with a small grin. His cock is still throbbing inside of his racesuit. “You tasted better then that champagne,” Lando tells you. You let out a laugh. Without thinking about it you press a kiss against Lando his lips, he is quick to turn it into more. When his tongue slides into your mouth, you taste the faint taste of yourself on his tongue.

“Do you want me to do something for you as well?” You ask Lando softly.

“I wished,” Lando grunts, “but we have a dinner and a party to get ready for.”

“Maybe later tonight?” You suggest.

“I like the way you’re thinking babygirl,” Lando replies to you.

“I just want to feel your lips on my clit again,” you confess laughingly.

“Next time I won’t stop after your orgasm.”

“You think I can come more then once?” You ask surprised.

“You can add a lesson about overstimulation to the teaching plan babe,” Lando tells you jokingly, but none of his words are a joke. He wants to spend a whole evening between your legs and pull everything orgasm out of you that you have.

part six

this is my favorite part so far :)) hope everyone liked it!

taglist: @booksandplushies @dinodumbass @formula1mount @words-are-cheap @allywthsr @inejghafawifesblog @chonkybonky @formulas-bitch @harrysdimple05 @vildetry06 @wherethefuckisthething @nonameishere @lauralarsen@meadhbhcavanagh @obliviatevamps @shy4turcs @fix5idiots @nightlockcornucopia @marialovesf1 @kapsylia @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @lanando4 @lauralarsen @leclercdream @agentadhd @rewmuslupin @allsouls-emma @iamshiningeuw @teenagedreams-cl@kiskso @loxbbg @vellicora @thomaslefteyebrow @avg-golden-retriever @amorydsmt @killjoynotes @barelytolerabled @starmanv @changetyre @kami10471633 @2bormaybenot @httpmrklee @buendiabebeta @aliceespector

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fanfiction #lando norris imagine #ln4 #formula one #f1 #lando norris imagines #lando norris smut

1K notes · View notes

yoonieper · 3 months

Text

For the Birds— Part 1 | JJK

I want you to stay even though you don’t want me.

♡ Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (feat. Yuri)

♡ Genre: angst, smut, future fluff

♡ Rated: A for Analyze

♡ Series Warnings: Lots of smut (not always healthy), cheating, discussions of depression, this series includes Jk in a pretty toxic environment, degradation (not the sexy kind), manipulation, and overall Jk being in an emotionally abusive situation!

♡ Chapter Warnings: Therapy sessions (major wee woo!), Jk has nsfw thoughts, verbal abuse, Jk has a panic attack, lots of tears, beware friends ⚠️!

♡ Word Count: 19.8k

♡ Summary: As the son of the CEO at Golden Tech, a marriage was arranged in the name of business. Jungkook really tried to make the most of his situation and be the best husband he could be, but no matter how much he tried, his wife just doesn’t seem to want him. Then you… you came into his life and his eyes couldn’t help but wander.

♡ Now Playing: Call Out My Name by The Weeknd— see masterlist for full playlist!

♡ Betas: Thank you so much to @illyrian-book-lover and @teawithhoneyandlemon for reading this part for me! If you’re interested in betaing a future part, dm me! If you're interested in becoming a permanent beta for this series please first click here and refer to 'details about the job' section for more details and dm for any questions you might have!

♡ Author’s Note: Prepare my friends for the emotional journey ahead! This road is long so get ready for all the ups and downs :’)

No reposting, modifying. Translating is not allowed unless given explicit permission. Thank you so much : D

previous chapter « main masterlist ✩ series masterlist » next chapter

A year and a half later…

Jungkook looked down at his watch, his leg bounced restlessly as he stared at the long, thin hand circle around the clock. Every sound in the waiting room felt like he was hearing a pin drop in the world’s quietest room. The smallest noises sounded like an explosion to his sensitive ears, and just made him more on edge: the secretary typing away on her keyboard, the water circulating in the fish tank beside him, the shuffling behind the door— he could have pulled out his hair at how tense his body felt.

Jungkook swiftly twisted the golden band around his ring finger as the seconds ticked away. He had been waiting here for the past twenty minutes and he’d started to regret coming so early. He thought being here would help him calm down, but it seemed to make things worse as his eyes trained on the door.

People might think Jungkook was minutes away from walking to his execution with how nervous he was about this upcoming appointment. Jimin had even said he looked like a ghost before he left work earlier. His fear was completely irrational, he knew that, but it was forcing him to come face to face with something that would keep him up at night.

Being analyzed.

There was no way to describe it other than it was as if someone was staring at him from across the room. They thought he didn’t notice, but he could see behind their eyes they had put him under a microscope, and were trying to peel back all the layers of his psyche that he didn’t know even existed. He could feel their judgmental gaze, and under their watch, he grew more self-conscious about every molecule that made up his being. On most occasions, Jungkook at least could hope it was all in his head, but today, he was walking straight into this nightmare.

Therapy was strange like that.

“Jeon Jungkook?” A soft, but deep voice called out, making him nearly jump out of his chair. Jungkook looked over and was shocked to see someone standing beside him. It was the same man from the website.

He was dressed in a nice, black suit and wore a serious expression; he had sharp eyes, longer hair, and square glasses that rested on the bridge of his nose. But the man still managed to radiate kindness with the pleasant contrast of his soft smile and delicate features. Standing up, Jungkook also realized the man was a couple of centimeters shorter than him, he needed to look up to meet his gaze.

Seeing him in person for some reason had him steadily beginning to feel more at ease.

The man smiled at him before guiding Jungkook into his office. It was a nice-sized room, decorated with modern, monochrome furniture, but it maintained its cozy feel with all the soft pillows and a blanket draped across the couch. A giant window overlooked Seoul’s emerging nightlife, a view not so different from what he was greeted with in his own office. Everything about this room helped the nerves he had been battling with all day begin to settle down.

This is for the better, things are finally going to get better— Jungkook kept telling himself as he sat down on the couch. The man took a seat in the big chair in front of him after having gone to his desk to retrieve a simple, yellow-lined notepad.

This was really happening.

“Alright. It’s nice to meet you Jungkook, I’m Dr. Min Yoongi. The time right now is 7:21pm, on April 4th, year 2023.” The doctor said, glancing down at his watch, writing something on the notepad, before returning his gaze back up to Jungkook. “As you should know, I’m a licensed couples therapist and I’m here to help you in whatever might be troubling you in your relationship. This will be our intake interview, and as you were told before, I will meet with you and your wife separately before we begin having our sessions together.” All of this was stuff Jungkook knew about, he had a feeling this was more so a reminder and for whatever record the doctor kept.

Dr. Min quickly scribbled something on his notepad again before looking up at him. He hadn’t even said anything yet, what could he possibly be writing?

“Alright Jungkook, I just wanted to ask if you had any questions for me or any concerns you wanted to discuss before we start?” Dr. Min eventually asked.

Jungkook tried to snap himself out of his anxious daze by shaking his head. “There’s nothing I can think of, I’m just a little nervous, I’m sorry.” He could hear it in his voice, the unmistakable shakiness to his tone, he was sure the doctor noticed.

“You’re nervous?” Dr. Min smiled.

Jungkook nodded, knowing it was impossible to hide it.

“Therapy… this is new for me.” Jungkook laughed lightly, but it was a big deal for him to be here.

Jimin had been the main one to encourage him to seek professional help. After the suggestion, Jungkook had absentmindedly brought it up to his parents when he went over to their house for dinner. They had laughed in his face at the mention of it.

“Your marriage is fine, why waste money on something like that?” His father had snickered as he ate his caviar.

“The only issue you both have is that I don’t have any grandkids yet.” His mother quickly added, and his father joined in because that was the only thing they ever seemed to talk about when Jungkook visited.

Therapy wasn’t necessarily a new thing he’d considered doing. It had been brought to his attention when he was in high school. After his brother left, he was faced with the daunting new responsibility of being the one who was going to take over the company one day. As much as he was excited for the opportunity, he was also absolutely terrified with all the extra pressure suddenly on his shoulders.

A friend had suggested for him to talk to a professional after he had done so himself and raved about how much it helped him. When he brought it up to his parents, much like now, they laughed and instead told him he should just talk to them about any worries he had.

He listened to them back then, but after a particularly nasty fight with Yuri, Jungkook was looking for answers, and the only place he might get real advice was from a professional. That very day he looked for couples therapists and booked with Dr. Min, hoping it might finally bring the change he’s been wanting for years.

“I understand, therapy can be a little intimidating for some. Tell me Jungkook, what are you hoping to accomplish out of our sessions together?” Dr. Min asked, still maintaining that friendly gaze that made it seem so easy to spill all his worries.

Jungkook let out a sigh of relief knowing this was an easy question for him to answer.

“I just want to know what I’m doing wrong… I know it’s my fault and…” as he spoke, he could already feel the tears stinging his eyes. “I want professional advice because I know I messed up, and I just want things to get better between me and my wife.” Jungkook was practically pleading for help.

Things had to get better.

Dr. Min tried his best not to let it show how shocked he was at the amount of blame Jungkook was putting on himself already. Most of the clients who come in usually talk primarily about what their partner was doing wrong in their eyes, or put most, if not all of the blame on the issues in their marriage on their unknowing spouse. It would usually take many sessions to even scratch the surface of the issues that they might contribute to. He’s seen that extreme end far more often than what Jungkook posed. It immediately painted a strange impression in his mind of the dynamic between the couple.

“Why do you think it’s all your fault?” He asked.

“I mean… it must be, right? I feel like my wife hates me and…” Jungkook sighed knowing he would finally need to get to that significant detail “—because we’re in an arranged marriage I’ve been trying my hardest— or what I thought was my hardest— to make our situation work, but nothing I’m doing is helping our relationship get any better.”

He really didn’t like to tell people that Yuri and him were arranged. Most people thought they were just two young people who found love early in life, a blazing flame that pushed the couple to be bold and take that next big step so quickly into their lives. Only their families and the people who attended their wedding knew that their marriage was nothing more than a business deal.

All of this was laid down a little quickly for Dr. Min. He knew with this being a high-profile client, the fact that Jungkook was coming to him meant there was something serious going on with the marriage. Most high-profiles like to keep the issues of their relationships as private as possible, seeking outside help was quite uncommon unfortunately. He’s certainly never handled an arranged marriage before, and that fact was going to make most of his usual techniques useless.

Jungkook could tell by the look on the doctor’s face that this probably wasn’t what he was expecting, but he wanted to have faith in the man. Dr. Min was known as one of the best in the country for a reason, hopefully he could help no matter the circumstances.

“Well, I’m not going to blame you. Relationships require both parties to make work, but it’s great that you’re stepping out and trying therapy. Who knows what we might uncover in our sessions together that could help you both in the long run?” Dr. Min gave a reassuring smile to the younger man and he was happy to see Jungkook ease up a little more.

“Anyway, let’s just get into some general questions to help guide us through this session. Why don’t you tell me about your marriage? I mean, just looking at your file you’re a little young to be married. How long have you and your wife been together?” It was a standard preliminary question, but in this case was extra vital to obtain.

“Three years— We just celebrated our anniversary on the 21st last month.” Jungkook mentioned. Yoongi tried not to look too surprised but he was seven years older than him, and he and his wife were just about to celebrate their fourth anniversary in June.

“March 21st, 2020?” Dr. Min reiterated and Jungkook steadily nodded.

That was only a little less than a year after him and his wife had gotten married, and Jungkook was only twenty-five? This was extremely uncommon here in Korea— the only clients he’s seen come in around that age were couples asking for simple advice on how to make their relationship work in the long run; even those instances were rare. More often than not, most couples don’t typically invest in therapy because of the unfortunate financial cost. Yoongi was most of the time helping out married couples or fiancés who had a bit more at stake if the relationship were to go south.

Jungkook hadn’t even met the average age at which couples tend to get married, he was still far from it— being twenty-five he was four years behind the overall average and six for men in South Korea. And that was based on his age now. When he first got married it was seven and nine. Finding out he was arranged, the situation made a lot more sense than when he was just reviewing his file.

Yoongi had wondered if Jungkook potentially filled out some wrong information when he looked over his forms before the appointment started. While he was relieved that wasn’t the case, the reality was a bit more concerning.

“Yeah, it was a few weeks after my commencement.” Jungkook added.

Yoongi couldn’t help but question why the parents would allow this to happen. He grew more and more baffled the longer Jungkook spoke, but now was not the time nor the place to be judgmental.

“How did you feel about getting married that young?” Dr. Min inquired further.

Jungkook sat back and grabbed the pillow beside him. He was a little unsure at first how to answer that question. It was something he used to ponder a lot when he first got married— twenty-two years old and already tied down— it sounded unreal to anyone he talked to. He never really got the chance to experience much before he had to “settle down.” Jungkook used to think about this a lot at the start. However, as time passed, he tried to focus more on saving the marriage he ruined, rather than mourning what he missed out on because he was arranged.

“I had a plan for myself before my parents told me I was going to get married. I had everything thought out for when I graduated college and getting married pretty much caused my whole plan to derail… I don’t want to speak for Yuri, but I feel like our engagement probably hit me harder.” Jungkook said, looking away into the distance.

“What makes you say that?” Dr. Min questioned.

Jungkook sat back on the cozy couch as he thought back to it. “I had this dreamy expectation of what being married would be like. Yuri and I hardly knew each other before they told us we were getting married so I had a lot of doubts if anything could ever come out of our relationship.”

He had pictured love at his wedding, yet he didn’t even know his wife’s favorite color as she walked down the aisle.

“I knew it wouldn’t be all sunshine and rainbows, that there would be hurdles we’d need to overcome, even more than your typical relationship. It was scary and I was so worried about becoming like my parents.” Jungkook's brows furrowed as he thought about it.

This immediately piqued Dr. Min’s curiosity and he could tell Jungkook was hesitant about elaborating any further. “Don’t worry, everything in our session will remain just between us.” Yoongi reassured him with a smile.

It wasn’t like it was that big of a secret. Jungkook took a deep breath before starting.

“They’re only together for our family’s public image, and me and my brother. They were arranged when they were young as well, and it would take me too long to go into just the details I know, but…” Jungkook just let the silence speak louder than he ever could. “They tried to make it work at first, but it didn’t last very long. Their relationship was hostile, if you could even say they had one in the first place. They’ve cheated on each other a countless amount of times, I wouldn’t be surprised if there were other peop—”

Jungkook could never forget his distinct memories of seeing people he hadn’t met before walking through their house unexpectedly. Some of them he only remembered seeing once, others stayed for a little while and became regulars at their residence. His parents would always reassure him and his brother they were just “friends” who stayed over. Growing older made the odd memories present themselves as what they truly were.

He also remembered all the fighting, the callous words they would spew at each other at night that he could hear from across the hall, and the look of disdain on their faces in the morning. Their relationship, if you can call it that, was turbulent to say the least. Jungkook always wondered how he ended up here, considering how things were when they were still trying to make it work.

“I always thought their marriage looked more like a prison than anything beautiful. They made it work for our sake, but I never wanted to live like that.” Jungkook’s own words were starting to get to him the more he realized his marriage might suffer an even worse fate.

A pivotal moment came when he was too small to understand the consequences of his actions; it was at this point, when he was first exposed to the true reality of their family dynamic. His parents had taken him and his brother to the park, he still didn’t know what caused his young mind to go there, but for some reason as they were walking to the playground, Jungkook realized how off things were about their family. It was then that he suddenly asked his mom and dad why they weren’t like all the other parents and couples walking around holding hands.

“Mom and dad don’t love each other the same way others do.” His dad answered and his mom had so easily agreed— way too easily. It was so stark, so to the point, and at the time he didn’t really get it but their words stuck with him as the years passed and he started to make more sense of their family’s situation.

His young mind didn’t really get relationships, he was still in that phase where he thought all girls had cooties and that boys rule and girls drool, but he could tell something was off with how his parents were with each other. When he actually learned the reason, a strange anger started to brew inside him over the years. A permanent wall his family could never climb. Jungkook had blamed them for most of his life because they could never be a normal family and he swore to himself he never wanted to give his own kids the same fate one day.

But at least his parents could tolerate each other now. They were more like friends these days than anything else, and they knew how to come together when needed. But Yuri seemed like she couldn’t even stand being in the same room as him.

He had to do something.

“I wanted passion, the thing that people write entire movies, songs, and shows about; I wanted the fireworks, the butterflies, magic— I had really looked forward to it.” It was a little silly, but he had always been a hopeless romantic. Jungkook felt his cheeks burn as his attention focused on the doctor in front of him. “I’m sorry— this probably sounds ridiculous.” He shied.

Dr. Min laughed. “I’m a couples therapist. I know better than anyone else what you’re talking about.”

Jungkook smiled at this, but his cheeks were still on fire. “I had always pictured something like that in my relationship, and don’t get me started on what I thought things would be like when I got married.” He laughed and the doctor joined in. He already embarrassed himself enough as it is.

“But then I was forced into the exact same situation as my parents with someone I hardly knew. I was terrified I’d end up in that hell.” Jungkook sighed. He had somehow ended up somewhere even worse.

Dr. Min noted on his pad again.

“This seems to mean a lot to you then.” The doctor commented.

“It really does and… I mean, besides Yuri, I didn’t have any relationship experience. I focused on school ever since I learned I was going to be the one taking over the company. I thought I would have more time once I graduated but…”

“Talk about that a little more, what do you mean you didn’t have any relationship experience?” Dr. Min pressed further. He tried his best to hide the shock in his voice. Jungkook was definitely someone he wouldn’t expect to have trouble in that department.

“I was really busy when I was still in school. I hardly had time to do anything, and certainly not enough to commit to a relationship— at least, the kind I knew I wanted. I was waiting until I had time for something more serious, but then suddenly I was engaged. I never went on a date, never had a girlfriend… I did a little physical stuff in college but it was just experimentation rather than anything passionate. Yuri was my first in a lot of ways.” Dr. Min took extra notes of this.

“Mmmm is that why you think you’re the issue in the relationship?” Dr. Min asked as he continued to write. This was a factor he especially believed played a part in Jungkook’s apparent lack of confidence in the relationship.

“We wouldn’t be here if I knew what I was doing.” Jungkook sadly chuckled. He truly had no idea what a relationship should be like besides the romanticized versions he’d seen in movies and dramas.

“That’s not necessarily true— did Yuri have more experience going into your marriage?”

Jungkook nodded. “I know she had a boyfriend in high school and then there was another guy she dated in her first two years of college. She was miles ahead of me in that department.”

Yoongi noted that down. “And did Yuri tell you this?”

He nodded his head. “She talks about them occasionally.”

“In what way?” Dr. Min questioned as he raised an eyebrow.

Jungkook stared at the doctor, suddenly, the nerves quickly came back. “Um—” He stammered. “She’ll compare me to them sometimes, mainly when I do things wrong.” Jungkook mumbled the last part, the embarrassment creeping up once again, heating up his cheeks.

The doctor stopped writing, the silence that hung in the air felt like it lasted an eternity. “And how does that make you feel?” Dr. Min asked, commiseration filling his tone.

Jungkook quickly needed to fight back the tears as he thought about all the times Yuri would bring up her exes. She would scream in his face how much better they made her feel, and how he could never compare.

…

“Worthless.” It was a simple, one-word answer that slipped out without much thought. He regretted it as soon as it left his mouth; his eyes grew more watery as he watched the doctor’s expression change to one filled with pity. He hated it.

Jungkook knew now that he deserved it. She was unhappy and it was all his fault. Her boyfriends, when they were younger, did more for her than her own husband; even after being married for the last three years.

“I’m not surprised you feel that way. We’ll need to discuss this more in depth during a session where I have you both together, but comparison is never healthy for any relationship. I like to think of fresh relationships as the start to a brand new chapter of your life— whatever happened in previous chapters with other people, might have helped shape the story of the person you are today, but now you both begin this new chapter together. Whatever happened in the past should stay in the past, instead, you should be focusing on how you both are going to choose to write this chapter now that you have each other in your lives. Again, I’ll be sure to talk about this more when Yuri’s here, but comparison is never healthy for anybody.” Dr. Min put it so eloquently, but still Jungkook couldn’t help but think he didn’t deserve the advice.

If he was a better husband, Yuri wouldn’t have the need to compare him.

“Alright, before we move forward, I just want to make sure I have a clear picture of the situation. Can you elaborate the details of the arrangement with your wife? Did your parents just put you two together randomly or was there something else involved?” Yoongi was struggling to picture how things happened exactly.

Jungkook quickly wiped away the tears before he nodded once again, realizing that might be important. “It wasn’t random at all— then again, when I offered to take over the company from my brother, I had no idea I would be put in that position but—“

“Your brother— What happened there? How about you start from the beginning.” Yoongi interrupted, focused on trying to get as many details as possible.

Jungkook internally slapped himself, realizing he was talking to the doctor like he knew all of the important details.

“My older brother was supposed to be the one to inherit the company, but he never wanted to take over Golden Tech. Junghyeon and my parents would fight all the time for years about him needing to fulfill his duty while he wanted to forget it all and pursue his dream. When it came down to which college he was going to attend, things just got extra tense when he revealed he applied and got accepted into his dream school. I hated the fighting, plus I was more interested in the company anyway, so I volunteered to take his place so he could live out his dream.” It still felt like yesterday that it all happened. Jungkook had felt so good when he stepped up and let his brother go do what he always wanted.

He can’t say he would have made the same choice now— maybe Junghyeon would have still been better suited to run the company despite his lack of enthusiasm for the position.

Dr. Min awed and wrote that down. He knew he would have follow-up questions, that context opening up a whole new can of worms, but he didn’t want to keep interrupting Jungkook. “Ok… I think I got it, you can keep going.”

Jungkook took a deep breath before continuing. “Well it wasn’t random, but they never mentioned anything to my brother about being in an arranged marriage nor did they say anything to me when I took over his position. It came out of nowhere. But Yuri’s dad and mine were close pretty much all of our lives despite them being each other's competition. Apparently, in private, they made this deal with each other that benefited both companies so they could rely on each other a little more and wouldn’t need to compete as hard. There was a lot of good that came with the contract, I saw it myself. The one bad thing about it was that they decided the only way to seal a deal like that would be to actually become family— that’s how me and Yuri got these.” Jungkook held up his hand to show off his wedding band.

Interesting.

“So you’re not only married but there’s a contract involved in your relationship?” Dr. Min asked and Jungkook nodded.

“We signed our marriage license first, and then immediately after we stamped the contract. Our wedding went from our ceremony into a party celebrating the contract being finalized.” It was just another thing that made their wedding a little strange.

Knowing that information now, the situation was starting to make a little more sense. It explained the disregard for the couple’s young age with the fact that business was involved. Still it was a bit odd, like why did this deal need to be formed in the first place? Why did the contract have to be stamped immediately? There were still many questions that needed to be answered, but this information was useful to have when considering the subjects to cover in their sessions together.

“It makes even more sense why this is such a big deal to you.” Yoongi added as he finished up his notes. Jungkook steadily nodded at his words.

“It’s not as simple as my marriage will fall apart if things don’t work out— there are so many people relying on me to make this work. I have to make this work, and for some reason, I can’t find a way to make her happy.” Jungkook tried to stop the way his voice wavered, but saying it out loud just made things real all over again.

The stakes were high, and if he failed, he—

“Now that I have the big picture, we can move back to your relationship and the troubles you’re having right now. What about Yuri? What specific issues are you having with her?” The question had Jungkook stunned for a second because of course there were things he wanted to bring up, but the guilt had him hesitating. What if Dr. Min knew how awful he was?

“I just want us to be in a happy relationship. I feel it’s my lack of experience that’s getting in the way of that happening. I don’t know what I’m doing but…”

“But?” Dr. Min emphasized as he tried to meet his gaze. Jungkook was clearly avoiding it as he stared down at his lap.

“But I feel like I’m trying hard to make us work. I just wish she’d touch me more.” It was a dirty confession, something he’d secretly wished for years. How dare he?

“Sexually?” Dr. Min hurriedly scribbled on his pad.

“I just want her to touch me… hold my hand, kiss me, cuddle, anything. I want her to want me.” Saying it out loud was horrible. He was just waiting for that gaze that suggested how pathetic he was, he deserved it for complaining, but that never came as Dr. Min's expression softened once again to something more sympathetic.

“Do you want to do all that with Yuri?” The doctor followed up with. The question seemed weird to him at first, but then Jungkook realized no one had ever asked him that before.

“Of course I do… she’s my wife.” He tried to laugh.

“I get that Jungkook, but considering this is an arranged marriage, I’m just trying to understand where your relationship stands at this moment.”

The question became that much more daunting because he didn’t have an answer for that. “It’s complicated… I don’t want to answer for Yuri but…” the words just weren’t coming to him.

Jungkook had to think about it for a while. “I feel, despite us being married for three years, we're still getting to know each other. We’ve had good moments— great moments sometimes… if I find out what I’m doing wrong, I’m sure we can share those moments together a lot more often.”

Just two weeks ago they were celebrating their third year together— or, well, “celebrating.” Their families just enjoyed holding a small gathering to celebrate the anniversary of the contract being stamped rather than the marriage itself, even though they masked it that way.

Three years together and what did he have to show for it? He hardly knew the woman he was legally bound to, and he’d just made her life miserable since the day they said their “I do”s on the altar three years ago.

People around him wished them a “happy anniversary” and pictures of him and Yuri were sprawled around the restaurant they had rented out for the occasion. It was all a lie, every picture where they stared lovingly into each other’s eyes, every wish for so many years to come felt bittersweet. He honestly wondered how anyone could have believed them, they seemed so fake in his opinion.

Jungkook had spent the whole day feeling awful and mourning the relationship he could have had. The gathering could have been a real celebration of their three years together, if he just was a little better— not just better, if he wasn’t him, how happy her life might be right now.

It was the main reason Jungkook worked up the courage to meet a therapist. Something had to change. He hoped seeing a professional might be the answer.

Dr. Min nodded slowly as he continued to write his notes. Jungkook wondered what he could possibly be writing. He hoped it was the answers to fix him so he could finally make Yuri happy, but he feared he would only hear the same judgmental remarks he’s grown used to these days.

“You mentioned you had a plan after your graduation… what did that look like for you?” Dr. Min asked suddenly as he looked back up at him.

Jungkook was a little stunned at the question at first, but then he tried to rack his brain to remember the plan he’d made what seemed like forever ago at this point. “I had planned to take a break from school before knowing I would get married. It would have been just a year, maybe two at the most in order to establish myself at Golden Tech a little more. I was going to get my master’s sometime after that, and when I got that out the way, I could finally focus on my job and get as much experience as possible before I needed to step up as CEO. However, I got married and I haven’t gotten the chance to go back like I wanted.”

“And why’s that?”

“I’m already busy with work, trying to manage a job, school, and settling into my new relationship was something I knew would be impossible. I wanted Yuri and I to be in a good place before going back but… it’s taking longer than I expected.” Jungkook tried not to think about it too much, he’s already got two degrees which, to some, might be enough. Having a master's would simply be a nice addition at this point, but it was something he always planned and wanted to have— something he still hoped to get one day.

As much as their relationship has been like a rollercoaster, he still had a glimmer of hope that they could fix things and he could go back to school.

“Plus, well, I have more than just myself to take care of now. Maybe it was for the best that I work full time, I gain more experience at work than in any classroom.” Jungkook was trying to be optimistic, but just thinking that by now he would have graduated and completed his educational journey, made the sadness come back all too easily.

But he had a wife, a family he needed to take care of.

Most people always assumed Jungkook was just this spoiled rich kid who lived off of his parents’ money, and was simply waiting for his dad to retire to finally take over the company. Jungkook never wanted that to be the case and made sure he worked just as hard, sometimes even harder, to prove he was capable.

Truth be told, he stopped living off his parents’ money the minute he graduated high school. It was a choice inspired by his brother's bold decision to just pick up and leave the country. He felt there was a lot to learn about the world, something he knew he would never experience if he had remained sheltered and continued to solely rely on his parents. That experience was especially important if he was going to run a company someday.

He lived like most of his peers who moved away from home. He lived in this cute, tiny apartment, went to work nearly every day, and struggled hard at night to catch up on his schoolwork. He was relatively normal besides the fact he drove a Mercedes to get to class— a graduation present from his father that he just couldn’t let sit somewhere. Besides that, he was on his own.

It wasn’t something his parents encouraged. They constantly wanted to give him money any chance they could. Jungkook just wanted to test being on his own and build the life experience most of his peers had.

Throughout college he lived off of any money he made from his part time jobs, gigs, and desk job at Golden Tech.

The only reason he was able to move straight into the fancy place they lived in now, was the fact that the apartment was a wedding gift from both his and Yuri’s parents. The whole reason they can live so well now is because of how hard he’s worked over the years! Would any of this be possible if he hadn’t worked full-time?

He had bills to pay and a wife to make happy, there was no way he could have managed to do that and school at the same time.

Yes, Yuri was his priority.

Dr. Min observed the way Jungkook seemingly faded out of the conversation, his eyes were wide as he stared out of the window.

Hmm.

He made sure to circle this topic on his notes for when Yuri came.

“Jungkook, you mentioned earlier about intimacy between you and Yuri— I meant to ask, how's your sex life?” The very blunt question had Jungkook’s eyes nearly bulging out of his head and quickly returning back to the doctor. His cheeks grew more pink the more he processed Dr. Min’s words.

“You don’t need to give details, I’m just trying to get a feel as to where the issues might be lying in the relationship. The fact you’re in an arranged marriage, makes this question even more important. Have you both made it to that stage in your relationship? If so, how soon? Are you satisfied?” Dr. Min reiterated.

“Ummm…” Jungkook felt his face grow hot. How was he going to explain it was one of the biggest issues in their relationship?

“Our honeymoon… we, you know.” Jungkook hoped Dr. Min would get the picture, and was relieved when he nodded.

“It was a bit too soon— me and Yuri hardly knew each other. We only went on three dates before we got engaged and then we were married. Our parents knew each other so I’d seen her a couple of times in the past, but our honeymoon was really one of our first chances at getting to know each other. It was nice… really, really nice.” Dr. Min noticed Jungkook’s soft smile at the mention of the trip.

“I feel maybe it was better to get to know each other a little more before we took that step, but you know…” No, he probably didn’t. Jungkook was such a sad human being for giving in so easily the minute she sat on his lap in the hot tub they found themselves in that day. He knew that now.

“I understand— two young people alone on a trip together— there’s nothing wrong with that.” Dr. Min tried to reassure him, noticing the way Jungkook got quiet.

“But things have been weird ever since we got back. I thought we just needed to adjust a little bit to our new life, but I feel I was doing a better job back then than I’m doing now.” Jungkook tried to laugh, but he couldn’t. Why couldn’t he remember what he did back then to make her want to be that close?

Why was he so horrible at being a husband?

“Jungkook, you never answered if you were satisfied.” Dr. Min tried to dig down, sensing this topic was sensitive.

“I try to be…” Jungkook said aimlessly, playing with the corner of the blanket that had somehow made its way onto his lap.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I try to give her what she wants but…” He could never forget her comments:

“Why would I ever want you when you don’t stop thinking with your dick for just 5 seconds?!” Jungkook had only tried to pull her close to cuddle. She saw right through his guise.

“Look at the fucking mess you made! You’re disgusting!” Yuri screamed as she pointed to spots on the bed where his cum had seeped through his pants. He’d gotten a little too excited while eating her out and made a mess. Yuri had always hated messes.

“Maybe I’d let you fuck me if you lasted more than two seconds.” Even that was generous, that day he barely made it inside before he was spilling into the condom. He could argue and say they never have sex and he was sensitive, but he couldn’t imagine how frustrating that would be.

“Why are you crying again? You’re fucking pathetic…” Yuri rolled her eyes after she told him he’d never be good enough for her. There had been a little light in the room, just Yuri’s lamp on her nightstand, when he took off his shirt. Apparently, the view had been that unsightly, she got so upset when he tried to get back on top of her. They never fuck with the lights on anymore, she says it’s easier this way.

Jimin says he cares way too much about what Yuri says, but he wanted to look good for her.

Just this morning Jungkook had spent his time in the shower, staring into the glass at his reflection. He hadn’t gotten the chance to go to the gym all week, work taking up all his time, but his week away from the gym had already started to show consequences. That muscle definition he cherished so much was already starting to soften, Yuri doesn’t like it when he’s like that.

He lives for her praise— those moments when she smiles, when she laughs, when she pleads for him to make her cum. Those moments are few and far between.

While the criticism hurt, she had every right to be upset. It was clear he lacked in so many aspects at being a good husband, let alone a good partner in general.

Yuri would always tell him how happy In Kyung Sam made her when they dated— her last ex from college, the person she mainly compared him to. Jungkook had stalked him on Instagram and it was clear he was far from what Yuri wanted.

He just needed to do better.

“I don’t think I’m good enough.” Jungkook didn’t realize he started crying until he saw the drops start to hit the pillow on his lap. He tried to work hard, tried to be a good husband, but he hated to admit how tired he was these days. The dark circles around his eyes showed his effort, and Jimin told him how much thinner he’d gotten— most noticeably, in his face.

Jungkook skipped way too many meals these days. He tried his best to follow those protein diets recommended by bodybuilders, but work always got in the way and he would forget to eat more often than not. It wasn’t on purpose, but lately, he was starting to look just as sad and tired on the outside as he felt on the inside.

Hopefully therapy would help.

Dr. Min watched the breakdown ensue, it’s happened with other clients before; eventually, they get to a touchy subject and they become emotional. However, something about watching the tears so easily spill from his eyes, was a little unsettling. Jungkook wasn’t loud, he didn’t make a scene, but his eyes grew redder by the second, his face more pained, and his cheeks more soaked with tears. His gaze however remained on the pillow and blanket that he had become fixated on.

“Jungkook, please don’t say that. I don’t know what Yuri’s done to make you feel this way, but never say you’re not good enough.” Dr. Min took off his glasses and set them on the table, before handing him the box of tissues that sat on the little table in between them.

“I want her to love me, to want me so bad that it hurts her as much as it hurts me—“ It was then that his voice started to quiver. “I feel like I try so hard but nothing works, I’m so tired…” He was beyond tired at this point. Sometimes he felt like giving up entirely.

Jungkook had even started feeling less confident at work. He couldn't even satisfy one woman. How would he ever be able to make the employees at Golden Tech happy, let alone the consumers, business partners, the media— how could he ever live up to his father’s legacy?

It scared him the amount of times he considered telling his father to hand the position to someone that might be more suitable. What would his father think of him? It almost felt inevitable at this point at how much of a disappointment he was these days.

His thoughts were spiraling; recently, they always do.

“It’s ok to be tired, but you’ve already made a great step in coming here.” Dr. Min tried to be the shoulder Jungkook could lean on, but he was too focused on all the red flags waving around in his head.

Jungkook didn’t give too much detail about Yuri, but Dr. Min had been a therapist long enough to know that this might go beyond just simple marital issues. He wanted to press for more details, but suddenly Jungkook’s phone started buzzing in his jacket pocket. It was almost startling to see how fast the young man wiped away his tears, before he reached into his pocket and answered his phone.

“Hello?” Jungkook’s voice was a little hoarse, but his tone shifted to sound a lot more professional than the soft one he used with him. Yoongi quickly figured this must be a work call.

“Wha— I’m a little busy—“ Jungkook tried to interject, but silence passed as he listened to the person on the other end.

“Oh? Oh… I see— I’ll come straight in then.” That sadness in his voice returned all too quickly, but Dr. Min could tell he was trying to mask it.

The call ended soon after, and Jungkook looked at the clock to see that they still had 10 minutes left of their session.

“I’m sorry, I’m going to need to cut our session short. I thought I was done for the day but…” Jungkook tried to smile, but he couldn’t. For some reason, he wanted to stay and talk more. This must be a good sign.

“I understand.” Yoongi said as he stood up with Jungkook.

“I look forward to seeing you again and meeting your wife tomorrow.” Usually during these sessions, Dr. Min tried his best to remain unbiased regarding couples’ problems, especially during these initial one-on-one intake interviews, but he was already starting to get a worrisome picture in his head of this woman. Their meeting tomorrow will be the real teller.

Jungkook smiled lightly before heading for the door. Dr. Min wanted to stop him, for some reason, he feared letting him go in his state, but all he could do was hope to see him again.

•────•──────────•────•

The next day, Jungkook found himself stuck in a meeting with some of the executives from the production team. It wasn’t that important, it was just an update about what they had been up to lately at the factories. Jungkook had tried his best to pay attention, but he was really tired today.

After he went home from the work emergency, he was finally able to let the emotions he’d been trying to keep at bay flow without the prying eyes of society. He didn’t know exactly why he was crying. Something about opening that door was so hard to do, and it just resurfaced all those thoughts that kept spinning around in his head over the years. He didn’t know what to do with himself; it was all too much and he had no one to talk to.

Yuri came home eventually, she walked in and was greeted with the sight of him sitting at their dining table, dinner only half eaten, and his face stained with tears. He wished she had come over and hugged him— that’s all he wanted, he was sure it would have made everything better, but Jungkook watched the disappointment etch more into her features the longer she stared at him. Yuri just rolled her eyes with a scoff and went to heat up her cold dinner.

Jungkook didn’t blame her for being upset, he really does cry too much these days.

As much as he told himself that, something about this just finally made him explode; the fragile dam that had kept his emotions somewhat under control crumbled to pieces all in an instant. He couldn’t stop his sobs as he quickly ran to the bathroom for a little more privacy. It didn’t take long for Yuri to come over banging on the door, complaining about the noise.

He probably was too loud, Yuri hates it so much when he’s loud. But he was far too emotional earlier and her pleas for him to be quiet just made things worse.

He ended up sleeping on the bathroom floor last night after he eventually passed out. He woke up with sore, red, puffy eyes, and his arm hurt like crazy from sleeping on it. It was his fault, Yuri made sure he knew how dumb that was before she left.

Jungkook had tried coffee earlier, he even had Secretary Yu cancel his plans for the next two hours as he tried to take a nap in his office. That didn’t really work; he was too worried about someone walking in and thinking he was lazy.

The only thing that kept his eyes from fluttering closed was you standing outside the meeting room. You were by the printer, likely working on those reports he asked you to do.

He should’ve been focused on the presentation, but his gaze was too busy raking up your legs that were so nicely accented by your red-bottom stilettos and short pencil skirt. The sight was a feasting ground for his imagination to run wild, and he was far more interested in picturing coming up behind you and fucking you right there against the printer. He would finally push up that short skirt that would drive him crazy as he shamelessly took you right then and there.

As much as he enjoyed the thought, Jungkook felt disgusting; he had a wife, and it went against everything he believed in to think about someone other than the woman he’s married to in a situation like that. He could try to make up an excuse and say it was all the sexual frustration he’d been experiencing these days, but how could that justify it? It couldn’t, he was awful.

But Jungkook wanted to feel something, and Yuri wasn’t giving him anything anymore. They hardly had sex these days and she found too much pleasure in teasing him, getting him to a point where he’s pleading, before something always gets in the way of anything actually happening. His mind for some reason had found refuge in imagining you in sexual situations to cope. It was one of the reasons he ultimately ended up making an appointment with Dr. Min, recently you had drifted into his mind while he was eating out his wife. How dare he?

He could continue to give excuses, nothing justifies what he’s been doing, but before he got married, he would have described someone like you as his “ideal type.” If things were different, if he wasn’t married, he would have probably had the biggest crush on you.

Neither of you had talked much since you started working at Golden Tech, but he’d taken more time than he wanted to admit watching you from afar.

Oddly enough, you were the epitome of everything his young mind had pictured dating. It wasn't like he walked around with a list in his head, but he found you checking boxes he didn’t even know he had. It was the weirdest feeling, but the longer you were at the office, the more he felt that if things were different, he would’ve liked taking a shot.

From the moment you spilled coffee on him, he knew you were gorgeous, so much so, that for some reason you always occupied his mind. It was in a way that had his eyes following you each time you crossed paths in the hallways, in a way that made him think about you even after you walked by, and in a way that made him a mess anytime you’d meet his gaze.

He was always thrown into a whirlwind of conflicting emotions whenever he’d see you. Lust, admiration, anger? He didn’t know anymore, but most of the time it was all three at once.

Workwise it was mainly admiration. You were smart, that much was clear from your first meeting, but since then you’ve continued impressing him. You were never afraid to speak your mind in the middle of heated debates between executives, and it was always your insight he found the most compelling. The amount of times alone since the TV incident they have utilized your input for important situations… It wasn’t a big shock when he found out how quickly you got promoted, you honestly did more than your superiors. You were hardworking, no matter what he threw at you, you would always manage to get it done better than expected. He would always hear the best from Director Son about your team being one of the best performing out of the finance department.

The list could go on really, but hearing about you, or even seeing you in the hall, always made him feel all strange inside. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he knew he hated it.

He wasn’t the only one who seemed intrigued by your charm; you made everyone around you smile with such ease. Anytime he would happen to see you in the office, your coworkers would be laughing and smiling about something you’d said. He’d tried to join in on the fun and talk to you occasionally— after meetings, in the hall when you were alone, in the office when he would pass by and see you still working late, but it never seemed to go well.

“Director Jeon! Did you need something from me?!” You had panicked that one time he startled you while you were standing by the water cooler. The minute you met his eyes, his mind went blank. Somehow his attempt at small talk had turned into checking to see if you were on track to meet the deadline for something he’d asked you to do.

Even Jimin had only the best things to say about you.

“I really don’t understand why you have a problem with her.” Jimin side-eyed him one night when they were working late. Jimin had brought you up and mentioned a fun brief conversation you had, and somehow the topic had shifted to his hyung questioning why he was always so weird when it came to you. The only thing Jungkook could respond with was giving you more work.

He didn’t have a problem with you. He really didn’t, but as much as he found himself enamored by your work, he also found it hard to stop the anger from rising anytime you’d even cross his mind. And unfortunately, that was often.

Jungkook really didn’t know you that well, but he’d seen you enough that you’d affect him in ways that he could never tell another soul about.

One time he walked by the meeting room when you were leading a meeting along with Director Son. You never noticed him standing there, but just seeing you in your element made him quickly need to run back to his office after he felt his pants start to tighten.

It was often your dark red lips that he pictured when his hand would hurriedly fist his cock. Jungkook hardly masturbated anymore, Yuri hated the mess, and he always felt sex-crazed if he ever attempted these days. However, the last time he did it was your lipstick he pictured, it was the view he had earlier that day when you bent over beside him and he could see down your shirt, it was those stupid short skirts you would wear all the time, it was you who he pictured fucking instead of his wife as he desperately rocked into the pillow that he’d been clinging onto.

Jungkook never did that again. Yuri had gotten so mad when he told her he had essentially ruined his pillow in a moment of weakness. Part of him wished he had told her it was another woman that he got off to, he would have loved to see how jealous she might have gotten. At least then he would have known if she truly cared for him at all.

You would get him so flustered without even trying. Maybe if you knew, you would hate him as much as Yuri did. Maybe it was best this way. The thought of another person screaming how pathetic he was, was enough to send him over the edge. It was probably only thanks to the business deal that he found himself getting married. No one would have said yes otherwise.

Jungkook’s attention remained on you, but you never noticed his gaze. His mind was going crazy at the thought of feeling you; the sounds of the buttons on the printer being smashed into filling the hallway as he desperately pushed into you from behind. You felt so good around his needy cock while he tried his best not to spill into you too soon.

It would be too good, and—

His fantasy was interrupted when Taehyung, a member of your financial team, suddenly walked up beside you. Jungkook watched as he seemingly came over to help you in your struggle with the printer. He just rolled his eyes and tried to go back to paying attention to the presentation like he was supposed to.

He had to remember to get that printer fixed.

It’s not like Jungkook had a problem with Taehyung, but he’s heard the rumors about you two and how everyone who worked on this floor thought you were together. There was no reason to be upset; he could feel his wedding ring on his finger, but he couldn’t stop disliking seeing the two of you anywhere near each other.

What if it was true?

He wondered what made you choose Taehyung. What did he do to win you over? What did Jungkook lack that made him so unwanted? Jungkook's gaze drifted down at the ring on his finger. In another world where he wasn’t married, he couldn’t help but think you wouldn’t have liked him anyway. No one would.

“Director Jeon?” The executive called out, finally noticing that Jungkook wasn’t paying attention to the lavishly planned out presentation.

“I-I’m sorry, what were you saying?” Jungkook hurriedly tried to shake himself out of his daze.

The meeting went on for far too long in his opinion. The production team always liked to be detailed in their presentations ever since going on two years ago when they messed up the launch of the new line of TVs. Normally he would have appreciated it, but he had trouble keeping his eyes open the entire time.

The minute it was over, Jungkook rushed back to his office, hoping to finally get a few minutes of sleep. He had an hour before his next meeting so he could squeeze a thirty minute nap in before he needed to do some last minute work.

Just as he sat on his chair, ready to lay his head down, suddenly his phone started to buzz in his jacket pocket. Jungkook groaned, the exhaustion easily made him annoyed; he just wanted to sleep. He was ready to slam that dnd button for a little peace and quiet, when he realized it had been a text from Dr. Min.

Dr. Min [4:23]: Yuri didn’t show up for her interview today.

Dr. Min [4:23]: I waited an extra thirty minutes and even tried calling.

Dr. Min [4:25]: We can still do our first official session tomorrow, just make sure she’s there :)

Jungkook stared at his phone in disbelief.

After he finally managed to come out of the bathroom this morning, the first thing he did was remind Yuri about her interview with Dr. Min. They argued a bit, Yuri always going back to the fact Jungkook slept on the floor again, but he still kept reminding her throughout their discussion, and even until she left, about her appointment with the doctor.

Jungkook couldn’t help but wonder if she actually forgot, or if she purposefully didn’t show up. Yuri, just like his parents when he brought up the idea of going to couple’s therapy, detested it, but Jungkook was insistent until she finally relented and agreed.

She knew this meant everything to him.

Jungkook didn’t know how to react. He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, he wanted to just break something. Instead, he texted Dr. Min a quick ‘ok’ before laying his head down to finally sleep.

He was just so tired.

•────•──────────•────��

The next day it took way too much effort trying to bring Yuri over to Dr. Min’s office. She went on and on that she had plans with friends, and Jungkook almost had to physically drag her into the car to go with him.

The whole fiasco made him incredibly flustered. She complained the entire time about how much this was going to be a waste. The whole way Jungkook was either on the verge of opening the car door and jumping out, or shriveling into a ball to just cry because why didn’t she want this as bad as he did?

Did she not want to fix their marriage? Had she already given up?

It was thoughts like these that clouded his mind on the way to Dr. Min’s office. Yuri was in his ear the whole time sighing about how she could be “sipping sparkling wine with her friends at Han Cook’s right now instead of going to this fucking scam,” her words exactly. It was irritating, Jungkook even noticed Dae-Jung roll his eyes a couple of times because she just wouldn’t stop.

At some point, even he didn’t want to be there.

They were already 5 minutes late by the time they were walking through the door. Dr. Min was standing in the waiting room talking with his secretary when he and Yuri arrived hand in hand, but not out of affection, Jungkook was just scared she might try to run away.

“Ahhhh, there’s my couple.” Dr. Min smiled at the sight.

“I’m so sorry we’re late…” Jungkook sighed, trying to repress any ill feelings he had toward his wife. Now was not the time; they were there now, that’s all that mattered.

Dr. Min quickly guided the both of them into his office, repeating the same process as when Jungkook went in for the first time. Before he knew it, they had the blanket draped over their laps, and Dr. Min was sitting in his cozy chair in front of them with his yellow notepad in hand.

“Alright, for our first session I think it might be best that our main goal should be to try to open the doors before we really begin to explore what’s inside. We should try to lay out any immediate issues you think you might be having in your relationship. It could be anything— the little things, like someone not always forgetting to push their chair in, to bigger things, like that fight you both had that has stayed with you. But first, since I never got to meet with you Yuri, I just want to talk to you briefly.” Dr. Min smiled at Yuri and he noticed the way she rolled her eyes.

“I understand therapy might be a little intimidating at first, but just think of me as a friend you’re ranting about your relationship troubles to. I’m someone outside of your relationship, I’m not here to tell you who’s right or wrong, but simply to advise and guide you in ways that might lead you both to being a happier and healthier couple.” Yoongi hoped that would do something, but Yuri continued to sit there with her arms crossed, looking completely uninterested.

Hmmm.

“Yuri, I want to first know if you have any concerns about our sessions.”

She sighed with almost palpable annoyance. “No.” Yuri mumbled, looking out the window.

Alright.

This wasn’t his first session with someone like this. Over the years, he’s learned that the best way to handle it, was to try your best to get your foot in the door. It’s all a matter of getting them talking.

“Alright Yuri, how about you tell me how you first found out about the arrangement? What were your feelings when you heard the news?” Dr. Min laid out a relatively simple question, hoping this would be enough to get her even just a little engaged.

“I mean…” Yuri looked over at Jungkook before turning back to the doctor. “We found out together, our parents sat us down and told us we were getting married. I felt indifferent to it, no one really wants to get married when they’re twenty-two but it was for a business deal, what could I do about it?”

“It’s your life, you weren’t upset?”

Yuri shook her head.

“I felt like I was doing my part for the family. My brother’s inheriting the company, and my sister works there as well. It was just me that went on a different path, so the least I could do was help secure a deal that would really benefit the company.”

Interesting.

“Alright then, let’s change the question a little. What were your feelings when you heard that you were to marry Jungkook?” The question was direct and it was asked with the hope of understanding her feelings toward her husband.

Considering the concerning way Jungkook described their relationship, it was a good way to segue the conversation into uncovering her true feelings. Dr. Min noticed the way Jungkook’s eyes widened before he turned to face Yuri, anticipating her answer.

Yoongi wished he had the opportunity to meet with her on his own. Normally, this would never be a question he would be asking with the spouse present, at least without knowing the answer first, but it was important information that would help him better plan their future sessions.

It was clear the question also took Yuri off guard.

“It was Jungkook, we had seen each other a few times before and our parents made us go on a couple of dates. I would be more surprised if it wouldn’t have been Jungkook.”

“You didn’t answer my question. How did you feel that it was specifically Jungkook?”

Yuri’s face changed. He could sense she was slightly irritated again.

“What do you want me to say, I couldn’t wait to get married to him? Is that what would make you happy?” Her words were for Dr. Min, but she eventually turned to face Jungkook.

“I’m not expecting anything. I just wanted your honest thoughts about what you felt like at that moment; the fact you were getting married forcefully, and that it was Jungkook at the end of that aisle. How would you have felt if it was someone else?”

“No different. I was only doing it for the company, it just happened to be Jungkook that I married. I mean, it probably would have been his older brother if he hadn't left.” Yuri was looking at it very logically, but she didn’t seem to care when she finished ranting about Jungkook turning away to wipe away his tears.

“How about now, do you feel the same way? You wouldn’t have cared whether it was Jungkook or his brother you married?” Dr. Min pressed.

“Well… I know Jungkook more. I’ve only met his brother a couple of times, and from those few instances, I think Jungkook and I work a little better.” This should have been the moment that gave Jungkook some hope, but all he was hearing was ‘convenience.’

It just so happened that his brother left for California and he offered to take his position. There was no “I’m so happy it worked out that way,” for all he knew, Yuri could have said the same thing if Junghyeon was here instead of him. Then again, his hyung probably wouldn’t even be here in therapy. His brother was always great with people and had ten times more experience in relationships than he did. Maybe Yuri would have been happier if she had married him instead.

What was wrong with him?

“What makes you say that Yuri?” Dr. Min could sense Jungkook was spiraling, he just hoped this question would bring some sort of reassurance.

“Me and Jungkook just… we just…” For the first time, she stumbled.

“What Yuri?” Jungkook suddenly interjected. “We what?”

“I think we work.” It was the same robotic answer from earlier. Jungkook sat there stunned wondering why she wasn’t telling him?

Something in him snapped.

“Yuri, why aren’t you telling him? He’s a professional; he’s here to tell me what I’m doing wrong. Tell him how being married to me makes you miserable. I'm trying to fix things, at least make you more comfortable. Tell him, please tell him!” Jungkook cried, he was desperate to finally understand what he had done to make her hate him so much.

Why couldn’t she understand? He just wanted to make her happy.

Yuri just leaned back on the couch and rolled her eyes, again.

“I can’t believe you’re crying about this.” She mumbled.

Jungkook hurriedly wiped his eyes. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I can’t do anything right.” He tried to laugh it off.

If the red flags weren’t waving before they were about to fly off at this point. It was so strange. Yoongi felt like this appointment was close to derailing, so he tried his best to steer them back on topic.

“Yuri, are there any issues you have with Jungkook you want to address in our sessions? It could be anything, I’m sure you heard Jungkook is very willing to listen and hear any qualms you may have with him or your relationship.” Yoongi found himself worried about what she was going to say.

Yuri thought for a bit before settling on a simple answer. “He’s too clingy.”

“In what ways?” Dr. Min hoped to coax more out of her.

“I don’t know… he’s more into being close, I’m just not like that.” It was still vague and didn’t quite make sense.

“I get that not everyone is the affectionate type, I’m the same way actually, but there are still ways to show you care besides physical touch. People have different love languages— considering you both were arranged at such a young age, you might still be trying to explore what works best for you. I might be able to recommend to you both some exercises you might be able to try in order to explore those sides of yourselves.” Jungkook was holding onto every word the doctor was saying. Maybe this might be it.

Dr. Min made a note to return to those exercises at the end of the session.

“Yuri, I would like to talk about something that Jungkook discussed with me in our interview. I don’t want to speak for him, so Jungkook, feel free to jump in at any moment, but one of the things he mentioned was his desire for you to touch him more. I think in regards to affection—“

“Is he talking about our sex life?!” Yuri exclaimed suddenly, turning to face him.

Yoongi’s eyes widened at her outburst. “It was mentioned, but that’s not—“

“I can’t believe you…” Yuri scoffed, turning away from him.

“I’m sorry.” Jungkook didn’t even try to fight her.

“I think it’s healthy to discuss it. You’re meant to be a couple and I hope you both know that communication is one of the building blocks into facilitating a good relationship. Things like sex, which is a boundary you both have crossed, in order to make sure everyone is satisfied, should be actively discussed with each other.” Dr. Min pointed out. This appointment was going left, he had simply wanted this to be a point about compromise, but the topic shifted so quickly.

“I get it might be a little awkward with me being here, but if it’s something you feel like you need to work on in your relationship, this is the place to discuss it.” Yoongi watched Yuri scoff at his words.

“That hadn’t been my point though— I only brought up intimacy to demonstrate how relationships take compromise to work. Jungkook had mentioned how physical touch seems to be something he really values in a relationship— this could include holding hands, cuddling, kissing, small things like that. Yuri you don’t share those same values, which is completely fine. Relationships require both parties taking and giving in order to make work. In this case, Yuri, you could try and be a little more affectionate with Jungkook because you know that means a lot to him. And Jungkook, it is important that you give Yuri her space when she needs it. This balance is important in working toward a healthy relationship.” He finally seemed to hold their attention as he went on.

“Communication is key. Knowing how to effectively tell your partner whenever you feel the balance might be off, is important to maintaining the relationship. This helps your partner feel seen, heard, and allows you both not to be in the dark about how each other is feeling. Jungkook, why don’t you tell Yuri some of the things we talked about in your session?” Dr. Min ushered, hoping Jungkook’s own words would be good when articulating these points, but he could sense Jungkook’s hesitancy on how he shakily looked between him and Yuri.

Jungkook sat up slightly. “All I want is for you to want me Yuri… maybe we shouldn’t have had sex so soon before getting to know each other but…” Jungkook felt horrible for even mentioning this, “I feel like I do so much— I try my best to make you happy, but I don’t feel like you’re putting in any effort, or even want to put in any effort into our relationship. I know we were arranged and things aren’t going to just magically work out, but I thought we both agreed on our honeymoon that we were going to try our best to make the most out of the situation.” Jungkook's voice started to shake as the tears had already begun to fall.

“I know I’m making a mess of things, but I just want you to tell me what I do wrong. I want you to know I’m committed to you, to our relationship, and the reason I brought us here is all for our future, I want an ‘us.’ I just want to know you’re trying… I’ll take anything… don’t leave so early in the morning and stay in bed to cuddle, kiss me when you leave, hug me, kiss me when you come back, take me out on dates, invite me out with your friends, and—“ He was a mess, saying anything and everything that was coming into mind.

“Yuri, I want you all the time, you have no fucking idea. I promise I want this, I want you, but I’m frustrated. I wish I wasn’t, but I am because my wife is gorgeous and gives me every reason to want her every single day, but— fuck, but you always lead me on and… I know it’s hard to want me, I know it’s so hard…” Really, why would she ever want him?

“I know whenever we do have sex I’m not the best at it, I could be better, I want to be better, but—but…. but…” Somehow the tears poured out even harder when he realized he had nothing. Why would Yuri ever want him, why would anyone ever want him?

Absolutely nothing about him was worth putting in the effort that he wished for so badly.

“Jung��“ Dr. Min was about to interject but Yuri was quicker.

“I can not fucking believe this, is this seriously how you talk about me when I’m not here?!” She was yelling, this shocked Dr. Min, but Jungkook almost seemed to completely shut down, staring at Yuri blankly with these wide, round, sad eyes.

“You’re actually pathetic, I can’t believe I married such a fucking loser… And you want to know why I never want you? It’s because you act like this! You’re always fucking complaining about something, you cry about everything, you’re not normal for one fucking minute. You’re talking about our private business in front of this stranger and painting me like I’m just this bad fucking person!”

Yuri suddenly stood up, the blanket dropping to the floor.

“Why don’t you tell him there’s absolutely nothing in that head of yours and the only thing that seems to do any sort of thinking is your dick, and you whine every time I say no.” All Dr. Min could look at was Jungkook as Yuri practically screamed in his face. Jungkook just looked like a deer trapped in headlights at how scared he seemed, and Dr. Min noticed the way his hands were shaking and grabbing onto the pillow on his lap a little too tightly.

Oh no.

“Yuri please—“ Dr. Min tried to interject once again but was immediately shut down.

“Jungkook, you want to hear why I don’t want you?! You never let me do what I want, it’s always us, never me. You make me feel claustrophobic, you cry at the littles things, you fuck like a robot, and you finish in two seconds. Why would I ever want to be at home? Why would I ever want to be with you?!”

“Yuri!” Yoongi once again tried to stop her, a little more firmly this time, sensing disaster was near.

“The fact that you wasted my time bringing me here because your dumb ass can’t figure out why I don’t want to deal with you— I honestly have no words, because why did I have to marry such a pathetic fucking excuse of a man?!” Yuri lashed, and with that, she rolled her eyes one last time before she grabbed her purse and stormed out of his office.

Dr. Min was stunned. In all his years of practice, nothing like that had ever happened during any of his sessions, but his own shock was dwarfed by how concerned he was for Jungkook. The minute Yuri slammed the door behind her, his trembling seemed to only get worse, and his choked cries were replaced with gasps for air.

What Yoongi had feared became all too real when he saw Jungkook desperately reaching to tug at his tie, and he suddenly looked like he just came back from running a marathon.

Dr. Min immediately flipped from professional mode into caretaker, jumping up from his chair to sit beside Jungkook on the couch.

“Don’t worry, I’m here.” Yoongi tried to reassure him, pulling him into a tight embrace and gently rubbing his back.

“Everything she said— she-she’s fucking right.” He was hardly able to get out the words.

“No, she’s not Jungkook, don’t listen to her.”

“My wife— she’s my wife— how can I not listen?!” He choked into his shoulder.

Yoongi sensed this was only going to get worse.

“Jungkook, listen to me ok? I’m going to need you to take deep breaths for me, alright? In and out, in and out, in and out—“ Yoongi pulled back to demonstrate steady breathing, making sure Jungkook looked at him.

Eventually, he attempted to join the doctor. Jungkook was definitely shaky, but it was better than nothing.

“I’ll be right back, I’m going to get you some water real quick, but in the meantime please repeat over and over out loud— it’s okay to not be okay. Okay?” Dr. Min advised, but he could immediately tell Jungkook was not listening.

“She’s right— why-why did I—“

“Jungkook, say it with me.” Dr. Min made sure Jungkook was actually looking into his eyes before continuing.

“It’s okay to not be okay— say it with me. It’s okay to not be okay.” Yoongi kept repeating, waiting for Jungkook to join him, still trembling in his grasp.

“It’s okay to not be okay.”

“It’s okay—“

“It’s okay to not be okay.”

“It’s okay to not be okay.” Jungkook was eventually able to force it out.

“Keep repeating and continue taking deep breaths; I’m going to get you water.” Yoongi said and Jungkook shakily nodded, reassuring that he had heard him.

Yoongi was finally able to get up and he quickly made his way out of his office to where his secretary sat. Luckily for him, right behind her desk was a mini fridge where they kept refreshments.

“Dr. Min, what’s going on? I heard screaming, someone stormed out of here—“ She asked, her concern already on her features.

“I’ll explain later, can you hand me a bottle of water?— My client is having a panic attack.” Yoongi rushed out. His secretary looked shocked but quickly rolled her chair over to the fridge behind her.

“Oh my gosh, is everything ok?” She asked as she took the bottle out and handed it to him.

“We’re trying to get there. Thank you so much.” Yoongi said before hurrying back into his office.

He found Jungkook still just as distraught as when he left, but he was still repeating the phrase and trying his best to take deep breaths in between.

“Good job.” Yoongi smiled, trying to reassure him.

“Here, this will help.” He handed him the water bottle, but Jungkook’s hands were shaking so much, he couldn’t open it. Yoongi was quick to step in and screw off the cap for him, gently guiding the bottle to Jungkook’s mouth so he could drink, fearing he might spill it if he tried doing it on his own.

Yoongi put his arm around Jungkook as they both faced the window. By now, the sun had almost set completely. The city lights were bright, you could see a few stars decorating the sky, but a sliver of orange accented the horizon, the last bit of sunlight of the day fading.

Jungkook kept taking deep breaths and trying his best to repeat the phrase that Yoongi told him to, but occasionally those thoughts that probably garnered the attack would return with full force and suddenly he was shaking again and he struggled to catch his breath.

Jungkook wondered if the doctor thought he was as pathetic as he felt, but he never said a word as he cried his eyes out and tried to pull himself together. All his brain could focus on was the look on Yuri’s face as she told him how she felt. How dare he say all that? He should have known better. Why didn’t he know that? What was wrong with him?

After many more tears, Jungkook was finally able to calm down. His suit jacket was draped over the armrest of the couch, and the tips of his hair that sat right at his cheeks were soaked— which he needed a haircut. He kept forgetting to do that, it was getting too long now.

“Jungkook, how long has this been happening?” Dr. Min eventually asked.

Jungkook was sitting with his head in his hands, his face burning at an alarming degree. He felt so embarrassed for causing such a scene. He was too much in his own thoughts to realize the doctor had asked him a question. Dr. Min gently pulled his shoulder back to make sure he was listening.

“Jungkook, did you hear me? How long has this been happening?” Yoongi asked again.

Jungkook sighed, his face was still wet from the tears that hadn’t stopped falling.

“Not too long… I’ve only felt like this a couple of times before, it’s never been this bad though— which I’m very sorry for. I’m so sorry about making such a scene—“

“Don’t be, it isn’t your fault, and this is really serious.” Yoongi sighed, wishing Jungkook would stop blaming himself for everything. “Does anyone close to you know you’ve been having panic attacks?” He asked next.

Jungkook slowly shook his head.

The only other person who might know would be Yuri, but he’s always been able to run and hide in the bathroom before it got too bad. It was still new that this was happening at all. For some reason, these days when Yuri gets like that, he gets easily overwhelmed that suddenly the room he was in felt like it was closing in on him.

In the past, he would have told Jimin, but he didn’t want his hyung to see him like this. He didn’t want him to know how pathetic he had been lately.

“You should probably tell somebody. Did having me here help at all?” Dr. Min asked.

“It really did, thank you so much.” It was truly more sympathy than he deserved. None of his attacks had been as bad as todays, but the doctor being by his side, and so attentive, made this one the shortest episode he’s had.

The silence settled in the room for a moment.

“Maybe I’m expecting too much out of this arrangement, and I’m making her miserable by trying to have us act like an actual couple.” Jungkook suddenly said, letting those thoughts take over again. “We agreed to try on our honeymoon, but— I think I did something that made her think otherwise. I’m so bad at this, Yuri wasn’t like this before we got married. She was so sweet— I just…”

“Jungkook, you shouldn’t keep blaming yourself for this. A marriage, any relationship really, takes both partners putting in the effort to make it work. I imagine being in an arranged marriage would make things harder, but both partners still need to try. Even though I don’t know the exact details, to me, it seems like you should know you’re at least putting in the work. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if you’re going above and beyond.” Yoongi smiled.

“There is nothing wrong with expecting something in return. Sure, I haven’t talked to Yuri enough to know if what you’re doing is exactly what she wants; but the fact that it doesn’t seem like she’s gone through that trial and error phase with you, is an issue. You’re trying to be a couple, you’re bound to have bad days, but there should be more good ones than not. I don’t know everything about your relationship, but I can’t lie and say I’m not worried about you.” Dr. Min was being honest.

“I can’t leave though— we aren’t dating, we’re married, and not only that, so many people are relying on me to make this work! Golden Tech benefited so much from our marriage, Redno did too, and all the employees— I can’t give up. We signed a contract.” Jungkook looked panicked at the thought of what failing would mean.

“I get that, but it seems like this marriage is starting to affect your—“

“I just need to make her happy, I have to make her happy somehow. Why is it so fucking hard?! Why can’t I just do that?!” Jungkook stared down at the ground, his hands hurriedly running through his hair and tightly gripping onto his dark locks.

“Jungkook—“

“I feel like I’m letting everyone down these days— fuck, why can’t I get it together? How am I ever going to run a company like this?!” The agony he was experiencing pained his voice, and the anguish that painted his features was more than unsettling. They were sentiments that Jungkook tried to keep hidden, but everything was just spilling out at this point.

“Jungkook, that’s not—“

But instead of letting the doctor finish, he just groaned loudly, his frustration with the situation becoming overwhelming. Jungkook tried his best to hastily wipe away his tears and shake away the despair. “I should probably leave.” He suddenly interrupted, standing up way too quickly and nearly falling because his head hurt so much.

“Wait—“ Yoongi tried to stop him.

“It’s getting late anyway.” Jungkook stretched, noticing now the nightlife was already in full swing.

Yoongi wanted to tell him to stay. He felt Jungkook was close to uncovering some concerning details, but he couldn’t keep him there. But he was just really, really worried about him.

Instead, he just sighed and got up to finally turn on a light. He had kept them off, knowing Jungkook complained a couple of times that his head was hurting. Besides, the lights outside were more than enough to keep things from being pitch black.

“Jungkook, do you have anyone you could stay with tonight?” Dr. Min asked.

“Hmm?”

“I don’t think it’s right for you to be alone, and maybe a night apart from Yuri would do you some good.” This was the opposite of the advice he’d normally give, but he feared any time with Yuri would push Jungkook over an edge he sensed was nearing.

Jungkook slowly nodded.

“I’m so sorry. I overstayed and went way past our session. I hope I wasn’t in the way of any other appointments, I can pay for the extra time.” Jungkook offered but Yoongi shook his head.

“You were my last appointment for the day, and there is no need. You left early for your intake interview anyway, so let’s just say we made up the time today.” Yoongi smiled. Jungkook was about to protest otherwise, but Yoongi quickly shushed him.

“Before you go though, I wanted to give you this.” Yoongi walked over to his desk and grabbed a smaller notepad out of a drawer, before hurriedly scribbling something on it.

It only took a second before Dr. Min was walking back, after ripping a page off to give to Jungkook.

“What’s this?”

“I’m a couple’s therapist, but I have a friend who might be better to talk to about yourself and what you might be dealing with. If necessary he also knows someone who can prescribe some medication to help make your days a little more manageable.” At his words, Jungkook looked at the note a little more closely.

K͟i͟m͟ ͟N͟a͟m͟j͟o͟o͟n͟

T͟h͟e͟r͟a͟p͟i͟s͟t͟ ͟(͟S͟p͟e͟c͟i͟a͟l͟i͟z͟e͟d͟ ͟i͟n͟ ͟M͟e͟n͟t͟a͟l͟ ͟H͟e͟a͟l͟t͟h͟)͟

A͟l͟o͟n͟g͟ ͟w͟i͟t͟h͟ ͟a͟ ͟p͟h͟o͟n͟e͟ ͟n͟u͟m͟b͟e͟r͟ ͟a͟n͟d͟ ͟t͟h͟e͟ ͟a͟d͟d͟r͟e͟s͟s͟ ͟o͟f͟ ͟t͟h͟e͟ ͟c͟l͟i͟n͟i͟c͟.͟

“I think it would be a good idea to talk to him. I’m a little worried about you, I can’t lie.” Yoongi chuckled lightly, but he really was concerned. It would be wrong to say the red flags in his relationship were obvious when he only got such a brief look into it, but he also feared Jungkook’s mental health was in a dangerous place.

Jungkook nodded once again, staring down at the note and stuffing it into his pocket. He turned toward the door, trying not to show how even that simple movement made his head feel like it could split open.

“I hope to see you again,” Yoongi said, hoping he’d come back at some point, yet there was a part of him that didn’t. Maybe Jungkook would take some time to think about what his relationship was doing to him, maybe he might realize he was better off without Yuri, or maybe all hope wasn’t lost and this session would be enough to spark some change in their relationship.

“Me too…” There was something so sad about Jungkook’s tone. Yoongi wanted to question him,

but Jungkook grabbed his coat and was out the door before he could even get

another word out.

•────•──────────•────•

The minute he closed the door behind him, Jungkook was nearly blinded by the bright fluorescent lights of the waiting room. They only seemed to make his headache worse.

Jungkook walked as he tried to put his suit jacket and coat on. It was still cold despite being a few weeks into spring.

“Everything okay?” His attention snapped to the secretary who was still sitting at her desk.

When he turned to her, he noticed her shocked expression. It was only then that he considered how much of a mess he likely was. His eyes were probably red and swollen, his face puffy, and he knew his hair was a mess from pulling at it.

Jungkook bowed slightly. “I’m fine, I’m sorry for keeping you here late.” He truly felt bad.

“Don’t worry about it, go get some rest. Have a good night!” Her cheery voice couldn’t stop the small smile appearing on his face. For a second he believed it actually might be.

Jungkook said his goodbyes before stumbling down the hall, trying his best to put on his jackets. His driver was already waiting for him downstairs. Dae-Jung had texted and said Yuri had left with her friends a while ago. He wasn’t surprised; he’d only been holding her back by bringing her with him.

“Where should I take you, sir?” Dae-Jung asked as they both settled in the car.

On his way down, Jungkook considered taking the doctor’s advice and staying with Jimin. He would no doubt let him stay if he asked, but he felt no greater need than to be alone right now.

“You can drop me off at the apartment, I’ll only need a few minutes to pick up a few things. I made reservations at a hotel, so you’ll take me there next.” Jungkook sighed, staring outside at the rain that suddenly started pouring the minute he made it downstairs.

Dae-Jung nodded before pulling off and beginning the journey back to the apartment.

Just a little ways down the street they passed by a street bar where they had a sign outside that read in bold letters: “Today’s Special: Dakgangjeong” (Sweet Crispy Korean Fried Chicken). It was only then that Jungkook realized he hadn’t eaten all day.

Maybe that’s why his head was hurting so much. He had been so busy earlier trying to get all his work done so he could meet Yuri at the apartment for their appointment, that he forgot to eat lunch once again.

The second he remembered, it was like a wave suddenly hit him, making him realize how hungry he was. Jungkook was tempted to tell Dae-Jung to pull over— dakgangjeong with soju sounded amazing right now, but ultimately decided against it as they rolled by.

It was raining, cold, and it was starting to get late. Besides, as much as he wanted to be alone, drinking by himself would bring him down to a whole new level of sadness that he wasn’t in the mood at all to explore. He already felt shitty enough, and being in an environment like that right now would only make him feel worse.

Instead, he promised to bring ramen with him and make it at the hotel later.

The ride back was long. Traffic was awful like it usually was, but Jungkook was so tired and his headache continued to worsen. Every little bump or sharp turn would have him rubbing his temples in hopes that it would somehow help; it didn’t.

His pain only made him recount the awful day he had and, as much as he tried to stop it, the tears started falling again. The minute his eyes started welling up only made the pain in his head worse, and the thought of Dae-Jung noticing him crying made him quickly try to fan them away.

Jungkook had already received a concerning look the minute he came downstairs and Dae-Jung was standing there ready with the umbrella. He had given Jungkook the same strange look as the secretary did upstairs. He looked like shit and he knew it. What made it worse though was the fact that he sees Dae-Jung often, and he hated the thought of people close to him knowing how pathetic he was these days.

The ride back home took almost an hour because of the traffic. By the time he was going up the elevator, all he wanted to do was sleep.

Jungkook sluggishly made his way down the hall, staring at the note Dr. Min had given him before he left. He was considering if he should really call the number sometime tomorrow when he had time, but then he came to the door and mindlessly punched in the code. Jungkook was so out of it, he had closed the door behind him without thinking too much, too busy contemplating if he should bring that wine his dad gave him after his business trip to France.

He was just ready to get this packing over with, but he was shocked when he turned around to see Yuri staring at him. She was sitting on one of the kitchen barstools, wearing a tank top and a pair of those boy shorts that normally would drive him crazy.

It wasn’t like he was mad at her, if anything, she had every right to be mad at him. He just expected she would be out with her friends still (he wished she was). He had simply planned to text her that he was staying at a hotel— he didn’t expect her to care, she was hardly at the apartment anyway. He was thinking maybe she would have celebrated, maybe even thrown a little party like that one time he left for the US for a week.

No, he didn’t expect at all to see her here. If things couldn’t get any stranger, she suddenly got up from the stool and slowly walked over until she was standing only a few inches away. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her he was leaving for a few days (at least), and that he was there to pack and he’d quickly be out of her hair. But he just stood there, his eyes bouncing between her eyes that were looking directly into his, and the view down her tank top.

“Uhh—“ He started, a little dazed.

“What took you so long?” Yuri asked, the tone in her voice was low and made goosebumps quickly appear on his skin.

He didn’t even really register her question. He wondered if he should tell her what happened after she left, or at least about all the traffic they ran into on their way over, but what would that do?

“I thought you were out with your friends.” He simply settled.

“I was but—“ Yuri took a step closer, making Jungkook step back, and his back hit the door behind him. “I decided to come home early.” Her voice was sultry as she got closer, her chest eventually pressing into his. He couldn’t even look her in the eye anymore.

“W-why…?” He stumbled.

“Because…” Yuri’s fingers slowly trailed up his arm. “You said I don’t touch you, so I was thinking…” her hand rested against his neck to pull herself up so she was right by his ear. “Why don’t I let you fuck me today?” She said it so softly that he nearly moaned.

As much as the very thought of having sex with Yuri excited him, what she said during the session today was still playing repeatedly in his head. The thought of disappointing her again was almost too much to bear. He knew he would, it’s been four months since they last had sex.

It happened when Yuri had come back drunk from a New Years party; he had been sleeping in bed when he woke up to her tugging at his pants. It was 3am, he had to wake up for work in a few hours, but the minute she whispered “I want your cock,” he was suddenly very awake. This had happened a few weeks after the whole pillow drama, and he was desperate to get you off his mind and focus on his wife. He could have said he was tired, still trying to shake the sleepiness away, but the minute he got inside an actual person— not his hand, not his pillow— things did not end well. It probably only lasted a few minutes, at best, before he finished.

He could never forget the look of disappointment on her face, though he pleaded to give him a few minutes so they could try again. He had never felt so small. Yuri said something similar to what she had said in therapy today, before grabbing her clothes and storming to the shower.

The memory brought a frown to his face, which Yuri immediately noticed making her pull away.

“Are we doing this or not?” She questioned, sensing his hesitancy.

This really wasn’t something he should be doing. Dae-Jung was waiting for him downstairs ready to take him to a hotel. His head hurt. He was tired. He had no reason to be mad at her, but he didn’t want to see her. She made the anxiety he’d been fighting all day come back all too quickly.

This was wrong, but he didn’t care.

When was he going to get a chance like this again? In another four months? No, he had to do this.

Before he allowed himself to think about it anymore, Jungkook hurriedly stuffed the note from Dr. Min back into his pocket, he grabbed her wrists to pull her close, and he gingerly met her lips.

He was soft as his hands came up to gently cup her cheek. The action made his heart flutter, he wished they kissed like this more often. This was nice. Jungkook would have been happy if they stopped here, really, it was all he needed at that moment, but he felt Yuri pull at his jacket.

“C'mon, aren’t you going to fuck me now?” Yuri tried to make it sound sexy, but Jungkook could tell she was a little annoyed he wasn’t doing anything yet.

Right. That’s all this was.

He let his hands slide down and settle on her waist— he took a moment to admire her before moving back.

When will he get another chance?

“Turn around…” He could tell Yuri was a little shocked at the command, but she smirked nonetheless before turning like he asked.

“Want your hands on the table, arch your back for me.” Jungkook’s voice was low. He tried his best to be in the moment as he watched Yuri strut her way over to their dining table. Even in the darkness of their apartment the view was amazing. Normally he would be drooling right now, but he still found it hard to actually want this.

He’ll make this quick— in, out, and then he’ll quickly pack. Simple.

Jungkook let his coat fall to the floor before walking over to Yuri, and he swiftly had his hands on her waist. He hurriedly tried to lose himself in the moment, chasing his hips into hers and kissing her neck. The action got an immediate reaction out of Yuri, and he took this chance to let his hand slide down into her tiny shorts, his fingers ran through her slit, and he wasn’t surprised to find her soaked already.

Yuri liked preparing herself in advance. Jungkook had told her many times that he wouldn’t mind helping, but she would always say she didn’t want him to get too turned on beforehand, fearing he’d finish before they actually got to fuck. Jungkook always tried to believe she knew best, but it was at times like these that he missed the most being buried between her legs, tasting her, and hearing her soft sighs of pleasure.

It also made him sad to think that’s how little she thought of him.

Jungkook tried not to think about it as his fingers settled on her clit, quickly stroking the bud, hoping her soft moans would be enough to bring him back from his spiraling thoughts.

Usually by now he’d be hard, desperately trying to get his pants down so he could finally feel her after so long. He wanted that now, but he couldn’t stop his mind from being elsewhere.

“J-Jungkook, are you—“ It was at that moment when she seemed to notice the divergence from the routine.

“You’re not hard yet?” She sounded so surprised, despite him only being in the apartment for probably not even five minutes.

“Ummm…” It was an insane expectation, but he still found himself panicking.

“Let’s go to bed, maybe less clothes might help…” He sounded so unsure, but he hoped that’s all it would take.

Yuri gave him a questionable look before she hurriedly grabbed his arm and led them to their bedroom.

The minute they were inside, Yuri tried to keep up her playful, flirty demeanor as she let go of him in the doorway and began a slight strip tease as she walked towards the bed. Her tank top hit the floor before she snaked her shorts down her legs.

If this was last week he probably would have exploded at the sight, but all he could think about was how disappointed he was about to make her, and how much his head still hurts.

No.

Don’t you see what’s right in front of you? You won’t get another chance like this for months.

Jungkook flipped off the lights.

“Ummm…” Yuri was confused. “Jungkook, why the fuck did you turn off the lights?”

“Don’t—“

“Don’t you want to look at me?” She sounded as if she was about to get angry.

“You said you find it easier this way. You don’t remember?” How could she forget they normally keep the lights off for these things? It was her who told him that this was the only way she’d ever fuck him.

“Jungkook, don’t be ridiculous, turn the lights back on and get over here.” She sighed.

Seems like she didn’t remember.

Jungkook hesitantly did as she asked, he turned the lights back on and let his suit jacket fall to the floor. He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the thoughts in his head that only seemed to grow louder as he finally climbed on top of her.

He tried his best to focus on Yuri, on the fact that she was here and wanted to do this with him. Right, she wants this, and he does as well. It’s been months, regardless of her harsh words in therapy, maybe there was a chance that she had actually listened.

This thought fueled him into pulling her close and kissing her passionately, he was soft just like earlier, but with a more hurried, desperate need. He wanted her and he was trying to convince his own body he wanted this as well.

“Jungkook, hurry, take off your pants,” Yuri whined, tugging at his belt.

Right, clothes need to come off.

Jungkook looked down and realized he was still fully clothed.

Right… right…

He quickly hopped off the bed, his belt hit the floor first. With burning cheeks, he undid the button and pulled the zipper down before finally his pants joined the rest of the clothes scattered everywhere.

He was about to get back on the bed, but Yuri stopped him with her hand.

“Your shirt too…” She looked down at the button-up he was still wearing.

Jungkook suddenly felt the anxiety he’d been trying his best to manage spike at the mention of taking his shirt off. He still hadn’t made time to go back to the gym this week, and of course, of all times Yuri wanted to have the lights on, it had to be the moment he didn’t look as good as he usually did.

Would she notice?

Yuri picked up on his hesitancy. “Hello? What’s wrong with you today?”

“I-I’m sorry.” He stammered.

He was going to disappoint her.

With his heart nearly beating out of his chest, he slowly undid the buttons on his shirt, letting the fabric drop to the floor.

Her eyes scanned over him and his feeble attempt at covering himself up. In that moment, all the thoughts he’d been trying to suppress came back with a vengeance. He remembered her words in therapy, the disappointment he brought, how he could never make her happy.

“Are you coming?” She asked, the irritation evident in her tone.

Jungkook slowly made his way onto the bed, trying to push those thoughts away. But as he kissed her, as he tried to ignore how shitty he felt, it just wasn’t working, and it was then that he knew she could tell something was wrong.

“You’re still not hard…?” She was angry now.

He wasn’t, but he wanted to be, he wanted her. He just needed something to take away the thoughts swirling around in his head.

“Maybe your hand might help…” He felt awful for even suggesting it. He shouldn’t be greedy considering what she was offering, but for a second he thought about what Dr. Min had said earlier: Both people need to try, and Jungkook was clearly struggling.

It was obvious his words shocked her, and Jungkook used this opportunity to lightly grab her hand. Despite how much he was shaking, he slowly guided it down his body in hopes that she’d reach into his boxers and fix the situation. He knew it would have worked. In that moment, he would have easily forgotten all his troubling thoughts, all his worries, how hungry he was, his awful day, his headache, and how much he just wanted to sleep. He would have forgotten everything the minute she would have wrapped her hand around his cock. He would have been able to fuck her like he wanted.

But no, the second it became obvious what he was doing, Yuri yanked her hand back.

“What the actual fuck?” She was rightfully pissed.

He gave up at that point, he knew it wasn’t happening. Jungkook buried his head in her shoulder, hoping to hide the shame that was burning him away inside. Not only was he unable to give himself what he wanted, but he also let his wife down.

“Yuri I’m so sorry, I don’t think I can do this.” Jungkook sobbed. Yes, he was crying again.

“What?”

“So much shit happened today— I’m so tired, I haven’t eaten all day, I can’t stop thinking, and, I just—” Was this really an acceptable excuse? He even had a hard time convincing himself. Still, he held onto her tightly. He wanted her here.

“Maybe we could try again later, please don’t leave me.” He finally pulled back to look into her eyes.

“We could stay in bed and cuddle, or I could make us dinner— we could even watch this movie I heard was really good.” Jungkook noticed her displeased expression become more irate the longer he rambled.

“Or maybe there’s something you want to watch— we could do anything you want… just… just don’t leave me alone.” All he wanted was his wife in his arms for one night. It felt so good to see her, to have her here with him, and as much as he wanted to be on his own when he walked in, he didn’t trust himself to be alone.

He wanted Yuri, he wanted to feel she wanted him as well.

Jungkook stared down at her, pleading with his eyes she’d say yes to something, anything, and it would have made up for how shitty today’s been.

He wanted to eat dinner together, to show off his mediocre cooking skills, something they could have laughed about over the wine his father gave him. Then they would have moved to the couch; Jungkook would have turned on that one movie he knew she would enjoy (he’s stopped himself from watching it, in hopes she would join him one day).

In his fantasy, they would cuddle, but he would have been fine even if they were five feet apart. Jungkook would have just been happy she was with him. Eventually, his emotions and the sexual frustration from the past few months would have him leaning over and he would have taken her right there on the couch; the movie would continue playing in the background, but neither of them would have been paying attention, as they were too busy enjoying the sounds of each other’s pleasure more than anything playing on TV.

Exhaustion would have come almost immediately after he spilled inside her, but Yuri would smile and pull him close, letting him fall asleep right there on top of her. It would have been too cozy, the feeling of her warm body embracing him as she ran her hands down his back, making him fall asleep instantly.

Once the movie would have ended, Yuri would've lightly woken him up so they could wash up before bed. She would have guided him to the shower and teased him about the fact that his eyes kept fluttering closed, but the water was warm, and he was just so happy and at peace. He would have cried the minute her hands lightly massaged his scalp, but she wouldn’t have noticed. He would have happily gone to bed with his wife in his arms, and—

This moment would have made up for all the hardships in their marriage, it would have been enough to give him hope once again, it would have erased his growing desire for his coworker, it would have made him believe that Yuri wanted him even only a little. Even if that wasn’t exactly what happened, he would have been just as happy. He would have taken anything…

Yuri rolled her eyes underneath him. “Jungkook, get off of me.”

As much as he didn’t want to let her go, he listened.

“Yuri, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He pleaded for her forgiveness as he watched her go over to grab her clothes off the floor.

“I can’t believe I left my friends for this.” She angrily grumbled to herself.

“Yuri ple—”

“Jungkook stop it, ok?!” Yuri yelled and it instantly had him shutting up. “I can’t believe I keep giving chances to someone so pathetic.” The words had Jungkook frozen on the bed.

“How am I so unlucky? We’re only twenty-five, but my god, the guy I had to marry, his dick doesn't even work! I went out of my way to come home early for you, and this is what I’m welcomed with; pathetic excuses to make up for your incompetence. And then you have the audacity to try and make me touch you because you can’t get your shit together!” Yuri gave him that disgusted look he’d feared the minute he saw she was home.

Her words cut deep, like a sword to a piece of paper. It seemed so simple and easy to her, but Jungkook was left in pieces, shattered, destroyed. At this point, he was so broken, he believed he deserved every word she said.

“And you’re crying again!” She acted shocked, but it was only an act because he really does cry a lot these days. There was nothing shocking about that.

Yuri looked at him for a second. He probably looked like a mess. He knew his face was red, it certainly felt hot, and it was just covered with tears and snot.

Despite this, despite everything, he didn’t want Yuri to leave. He feared the dark thoughts were beginning to be the only thing he could think about. He needed her here at least. “Yuri— please, don’t— don’t go. I don’t want to be alone, I’m scared, I—”

Yuri sighed. “I’m going to shower, and I’m leaving with my friends right after.” Before she walked off, she made the dramatic point of taking off her wedding ring and stuffing it into the drawer of her vanity. It was then that she stormed into the bathroom and slammed and locked the door behind her.

The silence. The fucking silence of the apartment after the door closed was too much to bear. Silence was always the perfect breeding ground for the vilest thoughts to flood into his head and engulf him entirely.

It felt like they were trying to fit just one more person in an already overcrowded elevator, but he was already tightly pressed against the corner, and the elevator was buzzing from keeping the doors open for so long. But the people in front just kept pushing him further in, trying to squeeze and shove more people inside. Just one more person, one more person and he’s sure he wouldn’t be able to breathe. Just one more thought and he feared it would be the end of him. His thoughts screamed, shrieked, wailed in his head, but even in the chaos, Jungkook could hear every fucking word.

This was all his fault.

For a moment, Jungkook wished he had listened to Dr. Min and gone to Jimin’s apartment instead. Things would have been better and at least his hyung would have stayed by his side. Now he was alone. So fucking alone.

Jungkook tried his best not to cry too loudly; he knew Yuri hated it when he was loud, so he pulled the covers over his body and put his pillow over his face to suppress his screams. He cried because he felt Yuri was right, he cried because he felt his marriage really was in shambles, he cried because he was going to end up worse than his parents, he cried because he knew he was the one causing it. But what was the loudest in the darkest chamber of his thoughts, was that he believed he wasn’t worth the love he craved for.

Jungkook couldn’t stop thinking about how miserable Yuri seemed. Even if he thought he was trying hard, for someone to say those things, for his wife to look at him like that, it was for a reason. He knew it.

Everything. Everything had to be his fault.

•────•──────────•────•

Jungkook ended up not eating that day.

Yuri left right after, just like she’d said, and she was hardly at the apartment for a few days after that. Jungkook was left largely alone, he didn’t go to work the next day, nor the next, or the one day after that. He found it too hard to get out of bed.

He was gone for a week, ignoring most of the concerned calls he would continuously get from someone at the company.

It was that weekend when Yuri came home for a brief moment only to grab something she needed. She had almost missed it completely, but before she turned to head downstairs, where her friends were waiting for her in the car, Yuri looked out the window to see Jungkook sitting on their balcony.

Normally, it wouldn’t be a cause of concern, but it had been pouring outside all day. Jungkook eventually explained that he had been sitting out since the rain had started (which was around noon), but when Yuri came home it was nearly 8:30pm…

He got really sick after that, pneumonia.

Yuri yelled at him for being dumb, but it just made things worse. Jungkook at least hoped the diagnosis would be enough to get Yuri to stay, but of course, why would she stay with him when he was battling pneumonia?

He believed he deserved the suffering. It was karma for skipping work for a week, for wasting his day instead of being productive, for being glued to the wine fridge and drinking everything he’d been saving for a special occasion.

Jungkook was never the same after all of this.

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