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saetoru · 7 months

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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ my life with you (that’s way over now)

synopsis. some people get drunk calls from their exes, maybe even flowers with hand written apologies. you get a knock on your front door with two random kids and a murder case

length. 3.0k words (once more it was supposed to be short)

contents. exes to lovers, ex boyfriend! suguru, gn! reader, slightly deviated from canon (he doesn’t kill the entire village + doesn’t defect), slightly a fix-it fic, blood, murder, child abuse + neglect (canon events with suguru and the twins), angst to slight fluff with hopeful ending (pretty much happy tbh), mentions of family + kids, suguru pretty much being a broke and depressed lil guy lollll

notes. idk what this is but it was written for me i just wanted to write it so here. take it and look away

right before you graduate, you and suguru break up. you don’t want to, but he insists it’s only fair—he can hardly be there for you the way you need him to be, he says. something’s changed in him, it has since that day last year. but still—you don’t want to break up.

so you argue, he stays firm, you cry, he doesn’t change his mind, you break up, he leaves, and the world momentarily collapses.

it’s the way things work, you suppose. they don’t quite always go the way you planned. you graduate not long after that, leaving him behind to throw yourself into work while you toe into the baby steps of adulthood. real adulthood—the jujutsu world has a way of thrusting you into that faster than normal, anyway.

by the time it’s late summer, you get your first apartment. it’s a rundown place—the bathroom tiles look dirty no matter how much you scrub, the walls haven’t been repainted in what seems like decades, and the thermostat never works properly to feel like what the temperature indicates.

but it’s yours—you leave jujutsu high fresh into the real world, paying your taxes and buying your groceries all while you exorcise curses for a living. barely an adult, barely getting by, barely alive as you get up each day and live.

and then suguru comes knocking on your door half past midnight.

“hey,” he says nonchalantly, like there’s nothing wrong with standing there—but you know him better than that. you can hear that detachment in his voice as he stares between your eyes, but not quite in them.

“you—” you start, staring at him incredulously before you decide to give up. there are no surprises with suguru, not anymore you suppose. you don’t really know him anymore. “suguru, it’s midnight,” you sigh—and that’s when you see them: two small children that can’t be much older than five.

bruises are clear as day on their arms, even while standing in the darkness outside. there’s also the slight swollen curve of their eyes, and you can’t help but notice how they’re practically skin and bone. children who have probably not yet even lived for five winters, and you almost wonder if they’ve been through more than you have in you’re entire lifetime.

suguru clears his throat before you can stare at them any longer.

“this is nanako,” he gestures at the blonde, “and this is mimiko.” the brunette one seems more shy, curls behind his leg further as her name is uttered.

you don’t know what to say, so you settle for smiling—you’re not sure if it comes out too genuine, but you try. it’s all you can offer, really.

“hello,” you hum for a moment. and then you turn back to suguru, “it’s midnight.”

“i know.”

“you should be at school grounds.”

“i know.”

“suguru,” you sigh, eyeing the blood stained on his cheek. you don’t like where this is heading. there’s a sick feeling twisting in your gut, bubbling, bubbling, bubbling.

bile. you can taste it. something’s not right.

“where did you find these kids?”

“on a mission,” he says simply, “village heads were keepin’ em locked in a cage like animals. can you believe it?”

again, that casual tone. it almost as easy as humming your favorite tune, as smooth as your skin on freshly washed sheets, as quiet as the first day of snow when the world is still. but something about it is hollow—something’s not right.

“why’d you bring them here? instead of school? shoko should look at them—”

“i told them they’d be safe here.”

they’d be safe anywhere, you think. as long as suguru’s there too. as long they’re under his watchful gaze, nothing could hope to beat down on their youth like it already has their whole lives. but you don’t say that—something tells you he won’t believe you.

maybe not right now.

you don’t look at him. you can’t. something’s not right, but there are children present. so you throw on your best smile and open the door wider, offering them to come in.

your apartment is small, just one bedroom and one bath. there’s hardly enough food for yourself for tonight, you still have to go grocery shopping this week. the missions were lined up back to back to back—but that’s just life as a sorcerer, you suppose. most days you hardly have the energy to eat more than a few apple slices when you return home anyway.

you wave your hand at your place dramatically as you say, “come on in, ladies. your humble abode awaits.”

they giggle slightly at that—it’s the first time suguru hears them laugh. you have that effect, he knew you would. it’s why he brings them here and not there. and…well, there’s a more complicated issue at hand. but that’s for later.

right now…well, for right now, he lets you guide them to the bathroom.

“you have money on you right?” you ask. he blinks, staring at you for a moment before slowly shaking his head.

“spent the last of it on cigarettes this morning.”

great, you think, before sighing and trudging over to grab your wallet as you press a few crisp bills of cash in his hands.

“here.”

“what’s this for?” he raises a brow.

“go buy them clothes,” you look at him like he’s stupid. he might be, in all honesty. just a little. “i’m not putting them back in…those once they’re all cleaned.”

“wha—i’ve never shopped for children before,” he gapes, “and i don’t know what size they are, or—”

“figure it out, suguru,” you say tiredly. it’s half past midnight—by now, you’d be passed out from your mission. he seems to take the hint. “and bring some snacks too. should be enough.”

“fine,” he grumbles—and then he’s walking out the door.

for a second, it feels familiar watching him leave. but then you decide not to dwell on it—there are much more important matters at hand.

you turn to the two girls before crouching in front of them with a gentle smile, “who’s ready for bubbles?”

——————

nanako and mimiko have never had a bubble bath before. you decide to let them taste the first tendrils of youth by splashing in your tiny bathtub while you find suguru for some much needed answers.

he sits on your couch, shirt wrinkled and hair falling loose and blood still staining his cheek as he hunches over his legs, elbows resting on his thighs as he thinks. and thinks. and thinks and thinks and thinks.

you wonder about what—what could be plaguing his mind? a lot you’re sure, but this isn’t suguru. not the one you know, at least.

the one you knew, the voice in your mind hisses—do you really even know him at all anymore?

“so,” you sit on the opposite side of the sofa, curling your legs under yourself as you eye him from the side, “care to explain?”

“i killed them,” he mutters. you go still. “the village heads. i did it without hesitating. that’s bad, right?”

“well fuck, suguru,” you breathe, restless, “that’s certainly not good.”

“i had a reason,” he argues, “all i needed was one.”

“there’s nothing that excuses murder—”

“oh, but we can excuse locking kids in cages, is that right? why? cause they’re sorcerers? they’re not—they’re children.”

“i didn’t say that,” you rub your forehead. this is all too much. too, too much.

being a sorcerer is too much. being in front of suguru is too much.

you finish your third year with a broken heart and graduate in spring—at one point you’d hoped graduating wouldn’t change anything between you and your friends, between you and the boy you loved. everything would be the same, even if you’d leave the place that held you all together—you’d still find a way back to each other, you liked to think. but then it all changes before you can even comprehend.

haibara is dead. nanami is hardly coping. gojo is everywhere but here. shoko is in high demand. suguru is hardly present even when he’s right in front of you. nothing is the same and you don’t think it ever will be. you lose the one thing you count on being yours forever, and now, he’s right here again. but not really here—not with you so much as near you.

suguru has killed people, sitting on your couch with you while the two children he finds are bathing happily in your bathtub.

there’s some irony in that—maybe in a perfect world, suguru and you would sit on the couch, much happier than right now, though. maybe you’d be tucked under his arm and curled into his side as you both chuckle at the happy squeals in the distance. maybe in a perfect world.

but this world is cruel. too cruel, in fact. it forces children to grow up too fast during some times and lets adults continue to be children during others. it’s sickening and all too much.

but this is the world you live in. there’s not much to change in that—not much you can change. maybe sitting on the couch with suguru is what you should be grateful for, whether it’s in this world or another.

“i came here because it’s safe,” he mumbles, quieter this time, “i don’t…i didn’t trust anywhere else.”

something tells you he’s not talking about the kids. you look at him for the first time that night—really look at him. you take in the lost weight, the sunken cheekbones and the bruised under eyes from the lack of sleep. the cracked lips from being chapped and the dry hair that’s lost its normal shine.

something’s not right—you won’t be able to mend it, but you think you can keep it from getting worse.

“it is safe here,” you murmur, nodding in assurance, “but you can’t…i can’t let you do that. not again.”

“what? kill people?” he snorts in dry amusement. it’s quiet for a bit—you open your mouth a few times like you want to say something, but nothing ever comes. he finally decides to fill the silence. “i don’t know what’s right and what’s wrong anymore. people shouldn’t kill. but some people shouldn’t live.”

“i think jujutsu is supposed to save people. not everyone will deserve it, but i suppose we wouldn’t be much better than them if we used it for anything other than that,” you whisper. he looks over at you at that, peers at you deep in thought as he contemplates your words.

“that’s funny,” he chuckles, “i used to think that too.”

“what changed?”

“everything.”

“then change it some more,” you shrug, “until you think it again.” he looks at you incredulously at that, eyeing you like you’re crazy.

“you’re an idiot,” he scoffs.

“says the killer,” you scoff back. you look at him this time, in the eyes and full of conviction, full of promises you couldn’t make before but fully intend to keep now. “don’t kill anyone else and i’ll help you. with those kids, i mean.”

“you want to co parent with me?” he chuckles.

co parent—the word makes your stomach twist. even after all this time, after all the hurt and pain, suguru is easy to imagine that with. he’s easy to imagine anything in the future with, really. he’s always been perfect like that, but you’re starting to realize there’s a lot more imperfections to him than you initially thought.

but it’s okay, you think. if you didn’t stop loving him before, you certainly don’t stop now. blood on his hands or not, he’s yours—even if he doesn’t want to be.

“don’t say it like that,” you murmur softly, hugging your arms around yourself, “please.”

you let yourself be vulnerable for just a moment—not because you want to, but because he needs to know. he needs to know how unfair he’s being and how patient you are with him despite it all. you deserve that much.

“sorry,” he mutters—he has the decency to look away and drop his smile.

“you don’t kill anyone, and i’ll look for a bigger place. deal?”

“for us…all?”

“yes. just until you figure it out, i’ll help you out with them. and then you’ll responsibly use your paycheck as a full time special grade sorcerer and maybe send a few checks my way to say thanks to my good will.”

he chuckles at that, shaking his head. “i’ll repay you,” he hums, tapping his foot. he does that when he’s nervous, you still remember—you could never forget anything about him. “i…i owe you, anyway.”

it’s quiet some more. you don’t know what to say, and quite frankly, you don’t want to say anything at all. but once more, he fills the silence for you after a while.

“what if…” he starts, “what if i want to co parent with you?”

“you dumped me,” you point out, unable to hide the bitterness any longer. it cracks from your tongue through your words like honey that went dry. “remember that? cause i sure remember.”

you’re an adult now, just barely, but an adult all the same. you should handle this the mature way—but you’re still young. still hurt. still blanketed in the fresh wave of nostalgia that leaves you aching with grief.

so you let yourself be bitter. suguru can handle that much after he left you to pick up your shattered pieces.

“i didn’t want to,” he says quietly. “i never wanted to.”

“but you did.”

“i didn’t…you didn’t deserve to see me unstable.”

“you’re not very stable right now either,” you pinch your nose tiredly, “you killed people, suguru. but somehow you can manage to have two kids now. but not me.”

“they need me,” he defends.

“i needed you too,” your voice cracks.

you did. you needed him—and you like to think he needed you too. maybe it wasn’t perfect, nothing ever is, especially not when you fight curses and see their ugliness every day. but that’s the best part of having each other—having something pretty amidst the hideousness.

he left you with more ugly than you knew what to do with. it’s unfair, you think for a moment, unfair that two girls who hardly know him at all have more of him than you ever did. he’d never abandon them—that much you know for sure.

you’ve laughed with him, held him and wiped his tears and kissed him under the moon until it became the sun. you’ve seen him with his hair down and his guard lowered. you’ve seen him in every way possible but in the end, he walked away.

they’ve seen him for less than a day and somehow, he’ll be there forever. there’s something unfair about that and you hate that you’re bitter with children but the world in cruel like that.

suguru slowly inches over—it’s cautious at first, and then he fills the gap all at once. you pretend you don’t feel the way your thighs touch.

“i need you too,” he admits, voice small. there’s a small, shaky crack that eats away at your heart, trying to gnaw into the raw part. the easy to reach part. the part you shouldn’t let him see anymore. “i…i always needed you. i’m sorry.”

“we were supposed to need each other,” you sniffle.

“we do,” he slowly slumps his head onto your shoulder. you let him stay there—don’t dare move a muscle in case he pulls away. “you’re the only thing that keeps me stable. i don’t think that’s fair.”

“needing someone isn’t unfair, suguru,” you scoff.

“okay,” he grabs your hand, squeezing. for the first time, he lets it all go. lets tears slowly slip from the corners of his eyes as he slumps into your side. he cries for riko. for kuroi. for satoru and the time he lost him for a moment. for their youth. for haibara. for not being enough even when he shouldn’t have had to be. somewhere amidst all that, your arms wrap around him and he’s pulled into your chest—that familiar feeling of your fingers threading into his hair makes the world start spinning again. “i need you,” he chokes.

“okay,” you say shakily, nodding slowly as you let yourself hope, “as long as you don’t stop this time.”

he buries his face into your chest, and you kiss the crown of his head.

cruelty is an unstoppable force. your love for suguru is an immovable object. neither is going anywhere, but perhaps they can coexist.

“satoru’s gonna have a massive headache when he explains this one to the higher ups,” you snort after a while.

he laughs into your shirt, real for the first time in a long time. “i’ll buy him something sweet. should make up for it,” he hums. and then he looks up, smiles innocently as he asks, “wanna lend me some cash? i’ll pay you back when i’m a responsible handler of money.”

“you’re hopeless,” you chuckle, “but at least you’re here.”

————— BONUS —————

“okay,” satoru starts, holding his hands up in surrender as he stands before the higher ups. damn old geezers, he thinks. “so he did kill a person or two…but—”

“there is no excuse,” a voice hisses.

“he didn’t mean it,” he huffs indignantly, “it was an accident. those can happen sometimes.”

“what—”

“he’s going through a phase, okay? let him work through it, he’ll be fine.”

“that’s not—”

“i’ll let him off the hook this time,” satoru grins, pushing his glasses up his nose as he shrugs, “he’s got a family now, y’know? kids and a spouse, and they’re looking for a home. can’t take that away from them.”

“he’s not even married—”

“it’ll happen eventually,” he insists, “so let’s all just calm down, yeah? great, thanks!”

“gojo—”

“see ya!”

he walks out, flashing an obnoxious peace sign at the higher ups as they hiss at him to return as he’s walking out. that takes care of that, he thinks, as long as suguru doesn’t make his life harder and kill more people, he can handle it—you did promise him kikufuku if he does.

satoru is babygirl defender no. 1 ain’t nobody doing it like my guy 🤞🏽 he would be loyal to you while you were in jail no doubts

#teepods.writings #fics.#geto x reader #geto x you #geto angst #geto fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk angst #jjk fluff #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru angst #geto suguru fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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mclqren · 1 month

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GYMNASTICS LESSONS ★ LN4

PAIRING ✦ lando norris x fem!gymnastics teacher!reader

SUMMARY ✦ you're a gymnastics teacher, and you manage to catch the eye of an f1 driver one friday night, though you both recall the way in which you met in different ways. [ SMAU ]

WARNINGS ✦ cursing

REQUESTED ✦ here!

NOTES ✦ i altered the request slightly and made it so that lando was picking up his niece from the gymnasium instead. reader lives in bristol in the uk & has a sibling. for the sake of this fic, let's pretend that all the drivers are friends off of the grid!! the fc i've used is pamela hughes, but feel free to picture whoever you want! my requests are closed at the moment.

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liked by yourbsf, friend1, and 431 others

yourusername easter holidays well spent ✔️ back to teaching now!!

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yourbsf MY GIRL FOREVERRR 😍😍😍

yourusername MY BABY 🫶🫶

yourbsf im so obsessed with you its not healthy at all

yourusername literally me with you ❤️

friend1 UM MISS Y/N WHERE DID YOU GO ON VACATION.

yourusername tenerife 🌞🌞

friend2 ur glowing girllll

yourusername all you omg!!

imessages ( y/n)

imessages ( lando )

liked by yourbsf, landonorris, and 426 others

tagged yourbsf

yourusername me and pepper have been chilling ✌️

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yourbsf PEPPERRR AWW 🥺🥺

yourusername she misses you ❤️

yourbsf MY GIRL 💋💋

yourusername foreverrr 💘

friend1 y/n are you serious why is there a f1 driver in ur likes.

friend2 RIGHTTT

yourusername wait huh

landonorris um hey? 👋👋

yourusername OH MY GOD NOT YOU AGAIN.

landonorris i don't know whether to be offended or not

imessages ( y/n)

imessages ( lando )

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc, and 788 others

tagged yoursibling

yourusername adventures in babysitting (the cinema was fun too) 💐

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user1 good golly she's stunning 😍😍

yourusername thank you sm baby ❤️❤️

yourbestfriend oh my days is that leila 🥺

yourusername yess!! i took her to the gym with me 😭❤️

yoursibling cutiessss❤️❤️

yourusername she's in safe hands trust

danielricciardo i once saw lando norris save five cats from a tree at the same time, he's just that guy 🤷‍♂️

alex_albon lando norris literally saved my entire family from a burning building once 🔥🔥

maxverstappen1 lando lets me go in front of him to win races because he's just that kind 🙏

georgerussell63 lando norris can lift a whole racecar over his head and do squats with it (trust)

yourbsf THESE ARE GETTING INVENTIVE??

oscarpiastri @/landonorris mate are you sure she's not out of your league

landonorris SHUT UP 😖

friend1 so ur like famous now y/n???

yourusername MATE I JUST WOKE UP TO THIS.

user2 i can see why lando likes her - she is GORGEOUSSS

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liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 13,190 others

yourusername black n white 🖤

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user7 THE PRETTIEST GIRL EVERRR!!

user8 someone tell me what she does as a job pls?

user9 she's a gymnastics teacher!! my sister used to do baby gym lessons with her, she's the sweetest 🫶🫶

user10 okay but can little lando norris actually handle all that? 😍

user11 no but i absolutely can🤞🤞

user12 waiting patiently for lando to come hype her up

user13 her (unwanted) personal hype man 🔥

yourbsf yummyyyy 🤤🤤

yourusername all mine ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

landonorris damnn 😍

yourusername very smooth norris!

landonorris so...it's finally working then??

yourusername idk it's not coming into effect yet tbh

landonorris might have to come pick up mila a third time then

yourusername

( caption one: wined and dined 🍷 | caption two: ❤️. )

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yourusername it's too late to get a refund, so i guess im stuck with him now. ❤️

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user14 IT'S OFFICIALLY CONFIRMED?? SCREAMINGGG

user15 if he doesnt treat you right im always here bbg 🫶

user16 ONGG

user17 new power couple alert ⚠️⚠️

user18 i cannot waittt to see pics of them together i swear

user19 HOW ARE YOU SO PERFECT

user20 TWO MONTHS AFTER THE FIRST RUMOURS STARTED AND ITS FINALLY ANNOUNCED 🎉🎉🎉

yourbsf still cant believe you replaced me with a m*n 😖😖

yourusername YOU'RE FOREVER NO.1 IN MY HEART I SWEARRR HE MEANS NOTHING TO ME ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

yourbsf how has he done this (taken my wife). what a little rat. he better count his days.

landonorris i can read?

yourbsf oh can you now? 😊

yourusername guys pls be civil 😭

landonorris YUM

yourusername me or the pasta??

landonorris both 🍝🤤

oscarpiastri still don't know exactly how he's done this.

charles_leclerc right?

alex_albon we haven't ruled out witchcraft yet so

landonorris GUYS WHY DO YOU HAVE NO FAITH IN ME STILL ☹️☹️

georgerussell63 it's just a tad bit unbelievable mate

yourusername i get it, im wayyy out of his league tbh. still contemplating on whether i should stoop this low

landonorris yeah yeah, love you too y/n ❤️

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sturnsdoll · 1 month

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𝖶𝖨𝖲𝖣𝖮𝖬 𝖳𝖤𝖤𝖳𝖧 -`♡´- -C.S

(HEADCANNONS!)

pairing: chris x (gf) reader, some reader x bsf matt and nick <3

summary: how chris would support his girlfriend before, after, and through wisdom teeth removal, as well as being under the influence of anesthetics!

warnings: fluffy!headcannons, dentist, mention of teeth pulling, little blood, slight mention of needles, anesethetics, established relationships.

authors note: kind of a blurb more than hc's tbh? it was a little rushed! sorry!

₊⊹⤑ you had been talking about how nervous you were for a couple weeks now..

₊⊹⤑ so it was no surprise when the whole car ride there, you were holding your boyfriends hand and avoiding the topic of what you knew was coming.

₊⊹⤑ chris had been reminding you everyday that besides the needle, the rest of it you wouldn't even remember. he ensured that him matt and nick would be there the entire time if you needed a hand or two.. or three to hold.

₊⊹⤑ with some encouragement (and chris lending you his grey zip up to wear for emotional and physical comfort) you did manage to enter the building just to get it done and over with.

₊⊹⤑ while the IV was intruding your skin, chris stayed next to you, asking about what flavour of ice cream you'd be getting after as a distraction from the needle.

₊⊹⤑ from there on, the process itself you had no memory of but chris stuck close by the entire time incase you needed anything or for some reason woke up.

₊⊹⤑ "hey sweetheart how'r ya feeling?" chris would ask while gently holding your hand when you come to your senses

₊⊹⤑ confused, your instinct was to sit up but chris would immedietly usher you to lay back down, letting you know that they're done working on your teeth.

₊⊹⤑ "why dtha fack is this bullshit still in my fucking arm then HUH?" your words wonky from the cotton in your mouth and the haze of anesthetic.

₊⊹⤑ "shh, were in public stop cursing like a sailor" "dude, nobody under like 100 says 'cursing like a sailor'" "yeah, what he thsaid!"

₊⊹⤑ chris would of course glare at you for agreeing with matt. but his thumb soothingly rubbing your hand tells you that he's obviously not too mad.

₊⊹⤑ you would leave later then you should have because everytime a password was given to you, you'd forget less than five seconds later..

₊⊹⤑ "it was ass right?" "no, it was GRASS sweetheart...."

₊⊹⤑ everything that came out of your mouth had the doctors and the triplets giggling.

₊⊹⤑ when it came time to take the IV out, chris thought that a 'got your nose' joke would be funny to distract you with. it was... definetly distracting at least???

₊⊹⤑ usually you were sweet to your boyfriend but something about anesthetic had you more than arguementative today.

₊⊹⤑ chris would try complimenting you "you look pretty even like this"

₊⊹⤑ "i KNOW i do. stop being corny you sthtoopid fuck" chris's jaw drops like he's offended but you don't care because nick's contagious laugh brings out your own laughter out as well.

₊⊹⤑ "i thought i was supposed to be the stupid one right now, not you"

₊⊹⤑ "maybe YOUU need to see the dentist about all those terrible jokes that come out of your mouth."

₊⊹⤑ you had no filter, just having fun rebelling against your usual niceness to your loved one.

₊⊹⤑ then finally the car ride came.

₊⊹⤑ now you leant on chris' shoulder to take a nap

₊⊹⤑ "thought i was stupid?" he questions, arm coming around to pull you in closer. "shhhh i'm sthleeping" the inpedament on your speech makes him giggle. "I SAID SHHHHHH" "jesus. my bad sleepyhead"

₊⊹⤑ the whole car ride he was making sure you didn't need your gauze changed, asking if you need water, offering you chapstick. you had to tell him to shut up at least 100 times before he'd relax, telling him you could put your own damn chapstick on. (you ended up asking him for help two minutes later...)

₊⊹⤑ the whole rest of the car ride was filled with you zipping up and down the zipper of your boyfriends sweater you had on, mixed with your favourite artist playing as you attempted to sing along

₊⊹⤑ the second you entered the triplets home, you rested on the couch with your legs over your boyfriends lap, singing a song that everyones pretty sure doesn't exist..

₊⊹⤑ "i love... YOUUUUUUU, i lovovovovovee YOUU, all three of YOUUuUuU-" "someone sedate her again." nick jokes while handing you an ice pack you'd previously asked for.

₊⊹⤑ "want me to hold it on your jaw for you bab- oh" before he can finish speaking you're gripping his wrist, leaning toward him "wanna know something?" you ask eagerly "hm?" "I LOVE YOU!" "i love you more"

₊⊹⤑ matt and nick didn't enjoy the next 30 minutes of the predictable arguement at all. ₊⊹⤑ once the delusion of the anesthetic wore off, you were just plain tired. nick and matt had both chosen to chill in their own rooms by now.

₊⊹⤑ the second you mentioned wanting to lay down, chris curled up behind you with a blanket over the two of you. he held you tight, muttering in your ear about how good you did today and how proud he is that you went.

₊⊹⤑ "sorry for calling you stupid" you apologize with a sweetly apologetic smile.

₊⊹⤑ "aw, it's okay. i know you didn't mean it-" "wellll sometimes.." "nevermind i don't forgive you."

₊⊹⤑ he'd make sure your favourite cartoon was on and that he held your ice pack on your sore jaw till you eventually drifted into sleep.

tags ᥫ᭡: @pettydollie @mattsrod @sturncakez @sturniololovesss @sturniolosstar @sstvrnioloo @watercolorskyy @sturniol0s @6ix9inewiturmom @sonicsmacks @orangela

#chris sturniolo #sturnsdoll #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets fanfic #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo fluff #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 7 months

Text

i love you, i love you (kill me in the morning) ; suguru geto

synopsis; everyone has a weakness. some are harder to get rid of. (or, alternatively; suguru geto befriends a non-sorcerer as a child.)

word count; 10.0k

contents; suguru geto/reader (not explicitly romantic but the subtext is there), gn!reader, geto-typical angst, childhood friends to [redacted], mild gore, suguru geto’s defection but with added angst, twisted depictions of love, depictions of stalking, depictions of death/murder, general bloodlust (geto wants to kill u soo bad but also not really), unresolved yearning, hurt/no comfort, curse user geto is his own warning tbh

a/n; ok so. this is kind of a mess. just my own take on geto’s childhood and defection + how i think he’d deal with a non-sorcerer reader after defecting……. so it turned out kinda. Dark. it’s entirely sfw to be clear!!! just sorta twisted. in conclusion i love my cult leader wife who wants me dead <3 (pls listen to ’kill me’ by indigo de souza it is SO geto)

suguru geto meets you in the afterglow of sunset, by a dusty summer creek.

it’s his special place, hidden in the outskirts of your tiny town; a place where the water glimmers with silver-hued fish, and all the biggest cicadas reside, singing softly and waiting to be caught.

a place where he can be himself. alone, with no one to curse him.

— except, this time, he isn’t alone.

your crying face is the first thing he sees. big, wet tears, cascading down your scrunched-up face, accompanied by little sniffles as you sit there. curled up into a ball, knees against your heaving chest.

the next thing he sees is the bruise on your leg. a scrape on your knee, gritty and a little bloody, but it’s not so awful. he can tell that it hurts, though — you bite your lip to stop yourself from trembling, like you’re trying to be brave. but you look pained.

and it sends a tremor running through his very soul.

suguru was born with a bleeding heart, an empathy unusually developed for his age. always pushing him forward, coaxing him into taking action; this nagging desire to protect, to nurture. born with an inability to avert his gaze from the suffering of others.

so when the two of you lock eyes, he manages a smile. warm and soothing, even though deep down he’s alarmed. but he masks it, slathers over it with something kind, something comforting — and he can tell that it works, from the way your teary eyes seem to soften in the buttery hue of the afternoon glow.

you’re crying. and suguru finds himself wanting to wipe those tears away, more than anything. you look small, and you’re in pain.

(protect the weak, urges some voice in the back of his mind. insatiable. protect those who can’t protect themselves.)

he asks for your name, all while cleaning your wound. the wince that slips from your lips when the cold water of the creek licks at your knee makes his heart clench.

but you tell him. you tell him your name, as the sun sets in the horizon, and he tells you his.

suguru. a sweet kid who sees you fall and patches you up. a cool kid who teases you a little for being so clumsy. who holds your hand tightly in his own, to make sure you won’t fall again.

the sun melts away beyond the cluster of trees that surround you, its burning glow breaking through the gaps between the branches and dyeing the summer creek a deep red. illuminating your blurry silhouettes, as you walk back home. hand in hand.

and that’s how it begins.

the two of you grow closer, in the same way flowers who share a stem learn to lean on each other, grow in the same direction, a mess of mingled roots. a natural connection, blooming out of nothing more than a sweet coincidence — that kind of blissful, innocent childhood friendship. the kind you never have to question.

you learn very quickly that suguru isn’t like the rest. that when compared to all the other kids you know, he’s mature, almost mystical, like he knows something they don’t.

you learn that there’s a gentleness to him, one he could never fully hide. one that shines through when he looks at you, when you play and laugh to fill the silence of the hills overlooking the small town you both live in.

you also learn that he can see ghosts.

curses, you’ll both come to learn, but that’s later. for a child in a remote town, isolated and alone, the familiarity of the ghost stories that adults tell you is the only kind of comfort suguru has to cling to. something lighthearted, to explain the predicament that haunts him — the flickers of black in his vision, that lingering taste of charcoal on his tongue.

suguru is different, you realize, different from the rest. and you eventually learn, from him, that you are far from alone in that belief.

in the town you both had the misfortune of being born into, suguru is the black sheep. his parents think there’s something wrong with him. the other kids think there’s something wrong with him. he isn’t right in the head, they whisper, he sees things that aren’t there.

(it’s a debilitating isolation that never truly leaves him.)

so suguru learns to stay silent, learns to keep his pretty little mouth shut, learns to lie. it’s easier that way. easier to survive, in the remoteness of your tiny town, with all the adults who scorn him and look at him like he doesn’t belong anywhere at all.

and suguru learns to be content, in that solitude. that heaven-granted isolation. a lone white chrysanthemum, in a sea of red and lavender; blossoming alone.

but then suguru meets you.

and, contrary to everyone else, you don’t think there’s anything wrong with him. when you tell him that he’s different from the rest, you mean it in the best possible way. you say it with starlight in your eyes, gleeful, giddy. like he’s special, not broken. like you’re also tired of those other kids, those sneering adults, the silence of a town so isolated it could crush a child’s heart.

like you have something in common. like you’re the same.

and you stay by his side. throughout the most difficult years of his early life, when he’s still growing accustomed to the duty he’ll have to bear for the rest of his life, you’re there. every single day. to smile at him, to speak to him like you’re both just normal kids — even though suguru is well aware that he’s anything but normal.

(when he’s with you, he feels like it, though. feels like he’s just a normal boy, like there isn’t something glued down wrong inside his brain. something twisted, something that needs to be plucked out.)

suguru finds comfort in you. in your presence, in the notes you pass him when classes get boring, in the way you cling to his sleeve while exploring the woods during recess. in the way you grin so brightly after managing to catch a firefly in the darkness of the summer night, all proud and toothy, a childlike innocence he wishes he still had.

you’re sweet, and understanding, and suguru thinks you might be the coolest person he knows. you’re his friend, his very best friend, his one and only.

and when he tells you what’s wrong with him — when he tells you what he can see — you ask him something that will forever rest in his subconscious. a flicker of precious, fleeting, genuine acceptance, one he won’t ever feel again. not until he meets a certain boy with blue eyes, but that comes later.

(a memory he’ll return to, over and over again. even after all the evil in the world has already descended upon him like a crackling hurricane.)

what do they look like?

there is no judgement in your voice, in the way the question slips from your lips. no mocking laughter, no silent rejection or whisper of crazy, evil, wrong. there’s only you, the way you’ve always been, curious and understanding and wise beyond your years.

suguru decides, right then and there, that he’ll protect you forever. no matter what.

you can’t see curses. you aren’t like him, in that regard, and he learns that quickly. and as suguru grows up, grows a little taller, a little wiser, he is glad that it’s true. he’s glad, because he already knows what kind of road lies ahead of him.

he already knows what kind of world you both live in, how unforgiving it can be. how many people die every day, every second, because of monsters only a select few can even see. he already knows that curses aren’t the eccentric, silly ghosts you were hoping for when you were kids — but pure, unadulterated evil.

(he already knows what they taste like.)

and suguru takes careful measures, day by day, to keep you away from it. as much as he can without lying outright. you’re curious, by nature, almost fascinated by curses and sorcery and everything you do not understand. an endearing trait, though it exasperates him to no end.

someone like you has no business sticking their nose into that kind of cruelty, he thinks, that kind of bloodshed.

and you’ve always been clumsy, a little scatterbrained. enough to make him worry instinctively when you’re out of his sight. like when you tripped and scraped your knee, by that tiny summer creek, all because you wanted to catch a dragonfly.

so he tries his best to keep you away from it, all of it, away from a darkness he knows would swallow you whole. away from the small, weak curses that sometimes litter the woods or the schoolyard; away from his cursed technique, the disgust of a power he never once asked for.

(he never lets you see him swallow those things, never lets you witness the way he throws them right back up again before it happens so many times that he grows used to the disgust. you’re sharp, though, and he can’t hide the grimace that always lingers on his features.

you don’t ask — you only give him a packet of gum, to chew away the taste with, and suguru thinks to himself that he’ll love you forever.)

time passes by, slowly but surely, and the two of you stick together.

and as he grows into his teenage years, so much weight already resting on his tiny shoulders, suguru has already developed some sense of it all. of his ability, of the world of sorcerers. he’s already spoken to people like him, has already been made well aware of his potential.

he’s already been given a choice, a choice that was never really a choice at all, but he decides that it doesn’t matter.

suguru decides to become a sorcerer. to train his abilities, to hone his skills. to eventually move away, from the stifling silence of that town, the silence that was only ever filled by you.

and suguru thinks to himself that he’s doing this for you. that in doing this, in being this, he’ll fulfill his promise to protect you.

(forever. no matter what. he echoes the words in his mind like a prayer.)

suguru wants to protect those who cannot protect themselves. those who are weak, those who are alone, people he has the power to help.

but more than anything, above all else, suguru wants to protect you.

you are the most precious thing in his life. and if he can turn the world a little brighter for you, just a little bit kinder, then isn’t that enough? isn’t there enough meaning in that to give him the strength he needs?

there is. suguru decides that there is.

so when he tells you about his plans, under a pleasant, ephemeral starry sky, he does so with conviction. he knows that you will understand, because he knows you. you’re his best friend.

and he’s right. you do understand. you’re proud of him, and he’s your best friend, too.

i’ll support you, no matter what.

the instantaneous answer makes suguru smile. not the kind of smile he plasters on to appease the adults around him, nor the smile he wears when he needs to lie convincingly. a full, genuine smile, that reaches his eyes and blossoms like a flower in the light of the moon; a warm, gentle smile, one you’ll always, always associate with him.

(forever and ever. no matter what.)

and when suguru eventually has to leave, for a high school he’ll spend the next few years of his life living at, he carries that conviction with him. his choice is steadfast, unyielding, inevitable. the only one that matters.

the whistling of the wind breaches his ears, as you both stand on the platform and wait for his train to arrive. a spring breeze caresses your skin, and suguru’s bangs flutter in the wind. sunlight scatters across the train tracks and seagulls cry out in the distance, and the acute sensation of a parting lies heavy in the air.

it’s embarrassing. it’s childish. suguru wants to claim that he isn’t a child, anymore; that he wouldn’t give in to hesitation, at the sight of your meek expression. that he wouldn’t cry, at the thought of moving away from his best friend.

but the slight puffiness under his eyes is evidence enough. evidence of the tears he shed last night, when the reality of the situation finally dawned on him.

suguru doesn’t want to part from you. he’s nervous, too — leaving you alone in that town, all by yourself, with no one around to protect you properly.

it's stupid. because deep down, he knows that you’ll escape too. that you’ll come after him, no matter how long it takes, that'll you'll both end up in tokyo. that you'll end up together, despite his duty as a sorcerer — eating soft serve ice cream cones, playing shooting games at the arcade, strolling around the big city aimlessly. doing all those things you always talked about doing.

because the two of you will always, always find your way back to each other. just like how he found you with that bruise on your leg, all those years ago, a fated encounter as natural as the glow of sunset. two lone dragonflies, who always meet somewhere in the middle of a dusty summer creek.

still, suguru can’t help but feel sad. a little lost. he can only hope you don’t notice the soft frown on his face, the faint redness of his eyes.

(then again, when have you ever not noticed something he was trying to hide?)

there's no need to worry about it, suguru knows. he’s never had to worry about you judging him, looking down on him. never you.

and when his gaze falls on your face, after the train he’s supposed to board screeches to a halt behind him, your own tears are enough to make him realize how silly he’s being.

he laughs, from the bottom of his stomach, when you tackle him into a hug and tell him with teary eyes that you’ll come visit. he squeezes you especially tight, in a boyish fashion he can never quite hide from you, and murmurs into your ear that he’ll be waiting.

he asks you not to forget him. you laugh through your tears, and tell him that you never could.

before he has to let go and step into the train, you tell him that you love him, and his grin blooms with honeyed affection. he ruffles your hair, always gentle, always teasing, always the same suguru.

he tells you that he loves you, too.

— then he’s gone.

(you’ll forever regret not convincing him to stay.)

the two of you stay in contact, all throughout his first year. texting, calling — making sure neither of you get the chance to forget the other. suguru tells you about his life, his missions, his classmates, leaving out all the gritty details. and you listen; attentive, curious.

at one point, you even visit him. his friends tease him relentlessly, but all he does is roll his eyes and flick their foreheads, biting back a smile. that makes you laugh, and he’s relieved that the sound hasn’t changed in the slightest.

and suguru stays the same, throughout that one first year. he is steadfast, unyielding, decisive. he has a conviction he’ll never let go of, and people he's vowed to protect. people he needs to protect.

(non-sorcerers, is what he tells satoru, and he means it. but suguru chooses to omit the fact that he specifically wants to protect one single non-sorcerer, above all else.)

and suguru is happy, with his choice. thoroughly and wholly. the road ahead of him will be long, full of obstacles and thorns, but he always knew that would be the case. and he knows that it’ll hurt, that it’ll be tough, but he also knows that this is what he sincerely wants to do. what he was meant to do. the only choice worth making.

suguru is content. suguru will not falter.

— then, his second year descends upon him.

riko amanai dies. toji fushiguro dies.

satoru gojo becomes the strongest sorcerer of the modern era.

(and suguru geto is left behind.)

it is a slow, sinking realization. one whole year to lose sight of his goal, lose sight of the conviction he held onto so tightly. one whole year to feel it slip through the gaps between his fingers, helpless to stop its course. everything grows muddled, molding, rotting before he has a chance to root it out — and all he can do is wait, as it festers like bile in the bottom of his gut.

suguru geto falters.

(he doesn’t quite know who he is, anymore.)

words he’s swallowed down like curses all his life keep flooding his subconscious, building up inside the back of his throat, spinning and spinning and spinning inside his brain until he feels sick enough to throw up. evil. crazy. protection. responsibility.

duty, duty, duty —

(what does that word even mean?)

suguru doesn’t remember. he can’t recall what made him step onto that train with such conviction, how he was able to smile so assuredly. how he was able to laugh, from the very bottom of his gut, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. he just can't remember.

who is he doing this for? what meaning lies in all this pain?

suguru keeps watching, hoping for an answer that’ll save him just enough. waiting and watching. he’s always just watching, isn’t he? never changing anything. always too late, too weak, too fucking useless to stop even a single person from dying.

he watches helplessly as a little girl gets shot in the head, for the crime of having been born different, for the sake of simple currency. watches helplessly as satoru carries her lifeless body in his arms, across a room full of people so vile that some deep, rotten, intrinsic part of suguru just wants to —

but there would be no meaning to it.

(does there really need to be one?)

suguru honestly doesn’t know, anymore.

riko dies.

(curses spring up like flies. he devours and devours.)

then haibara dies, too.

(in the distance, he thinks he hears the sound of clapping.)

sorcerers. non-sorcerers. curses.

the words begin to rot inside his mouth, like wilted flowers, syrupy sweet and nauseating. crumbling on his tongue, numbing his senses until it’s all he can taste. a mouthful of honey, sticking to the walls of his throat, too sweet to stomach.

this is wrong, he thinks. everything is all wrong.

everything is wrong and i don’t know how to fix it.

— and then there’s you.

during your third year, both of you are busier than usual, but still find the time to talk when you can. the normalcy of your little stories is a comfort, to suguru — but also makes him burn with something he fears may be close to envy.

you tell him about your new school, your new town, your new beginning; bright and dazzling. one that suits you just fine.

the two of you are different, he realizes, all at once. some part of him always knew. you were born to be happy, kept away from the bloodshed, hands unsullied by the deep red that always dries beneath his fingernails. there was never a place for you in the world of curses. and he’s glad, that it’s true, he always has been, but —

(resentment festers in his gut. he can’t tell how long it’s been there, and he’s afraid to know the answer.)

these days, suguru takes a little longer to answer your texts. his voice comes out sounding a little more fatigued when he’s speaking to you through the phone, and he doesn’t talk as much as he used to. your voice soothes him, though, he thinks. just a tiny bit. but it’s enough.

(he’s doing this for you, too. he can’t forget that.)

and when you come to visit him, during his third year, suguru is surprised. surprised to see you, standing outside of his dorm, bags full of his favorite snacks in hand. smiling.

you look the same as always.

(he’s the only one who’s changed.)

it’s a pleasant surprise, though, despite everything. he really did miss you. in his life, your presence alone has been nothing but a comfort, for as long as he can remember. even now, when everything feels so blurry and uncertain, you appear to him as a flicker of starlight; shining through the darkness that’s been plaguing him for the past year.

so he tries to smile, tries to sound the same as always, but he knows you don’t buy it. you know because you know him, despite everything.

suguru wonders what you would think of him, if you could hear the thoughts he’s been having these past few weeks. he wonders what he looks like, reflected in your eyes. he wonders how much he’s changed since you last saw him.

(he hasn’t felt like himself in months.)

your presence is like a balm, to his soul, but it also seeks to hurt him further. because you’re still the same. still so understanding and wise and patient. you can tell that he’s fading, and he can tell that you can tell. but he doesn’t want to tell you why. he refuses to open up to you, because what would that accomplish? how could you possibly understand?

how could you understand his hatred, his resentment, towards the very people he’s supposed to protect? he told you that, himself. he decided to protect them, on his own accord. that’s his duty — steadfast, unyielding, inevitable. that’s all it was ever meant to be.

protect the weak. protect the ugly. protect everyone except his comrades, until all of them lie dead in a pile of maggots and tangly limbs and buzzing flies.

a bitter, heavy kind of vomit settles inside his chest, his throat. and somewhere deep inside suguru’s mind, in the very bottom of a drawer he vowed never to open, the image of non-sorcerers shifts, distorts, flickers on and off under the light.

protect those monkeys until his very last breath.

(what a fucking joke.)

you couldn’t understand. he doesn’t want you to. he promised himself that he would keep you away from that kind of darkness, no matter what, and —

and you’re the only good thing he has left.

not only that — you’re a non-sorcerer, too. and suguru knows what that means. if what his brain is telling him is true, if that’s really how it is, then you are no exception. then you’re just like the rest, something lesser, nothing but a —

(he thinks he might throw up.)

suguru does not tell you anything. despite everything, despite your pleading expression, despite the heavy bile at the bottom of his gut. he does not tell you what is truly wrong. he does not open up to you.

and that is suguru’s first act of betrayal, to you. before he even betrays the jujutsu world.

(it is perhaps the only betrayal he’ll ever feel any kind of remorse over.)

you try, though. persistent in your affection. he loathes how little you’ve changed, how brightly you still shine when reflected in his eyes. you sit right next to him, under a pleasant, ephemeral starry sky, stars blurred by the light pollution, and tell him what you always have.

i’ll support you, no matter what.

…

suddenly, all he can hear is the whooshing of the sea. as if he's been pulled underwater, a heavy weight tugging at his limbs, lungs gasping for air that doesn't exist. pure static, in his ears, a sharp crack of something. like a rib, or a train of thought. all he can taste is saltwater.

the dam begins to break. it cracks at the edges, like two giddy children poking a stick into a puddle layered with ice, giggling at their scattered reflections. memories resurfacing, images flashing in his subconscious. suguru looks at you like he’s lost. something inside of him breaks, disintegrates into a pile of despair.

because you don’t understand what you’re telling him. you don’t understand what he thinks about doing, sometimes, when the nights are especially long and the school is especially empty and the taste of curses lies especially thick on his tongue.

you don’t understand. you never will.

but you’re smiling at him, so very gentle. so accepting, so all-encompassing of everything that’s good, everything worth cherishing. just like always.

suguru recalls your teary face; when you scraped your knee, when he left that town behind. he recalls all the ways you’ve soothed him, saved him, in all the years you’ve known him.

i’ll definitely come visit. i love you.

i’ll support you, no matter what.

what do they look like?

— suguru falters. these days, that’s all he ever seems to do.

how could he hate non-sorcerers, when you’re among them? how could he hate a world that has you in it?

(he can’t, he can’t, he can’t. he can’t hate you. not you.)

the words that spill so very easily from your lips break him. he can’t tell if you’ve mended the damage, or only worsened it. he can’t tell where the jagged hole inside his chest ends and begins. he can only tell that it’s extending, extending, extending.

suguru wants to fall apart. he wants to fall apart, for only you to see, because you’ve always been the only one who could ever understand. the only one who wouldn’t turn your eyes away from him, even back then. the only, only one. the only other white chrysanthemum.

he wants so desperately to be honest with you, to let every dark thought he’s ever had flow out from his lips. for you to hear, for you to scorn or to accept at your leisure, doom him or bless him, a bleeding dog at your feet. to get rid of the tangled mess of thoughts inside his muddled mind — to just let go of everything, even if it’s only for a minute or two. just a second would be fine.

suguru wants to drag you down with him. drag you down into the depths, into the abyss, to share the weight of his suffering. so that you can be together, just like you always have; through thick and thin. always and forever.

but he doesn’t.

(and what a betrayal that is.)

suguru keeps his pretty little mouth shut, and he gives you a smile. a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, the kind he always wears when he needs to lie convincingly.

he could tell you so many things. could ruin you completely, take you down with him. hand in hand, staining your unsullied skin with the blood on his own. into the gaping maw.

but at the end of the day, he chooses not to.

suguru chooses your peace of mind over his, just like he always has, and feeds you a vague half-truth. not quite a lie, but something that ignores the underlying question of your statement, a silent plea for sincerity. something deep and true, but almost sorrowful.

i know, he says.

i know you will.

the moment does not save him. but suguru does feel just a little more hopeful, a little less like he’s slowly rotting from the inside out. a little less like he’s completely and utterly alone, isolated in his agony.

you are the same as always. and what a relief that is.

(for you, he can wade through the hell for just a little longer.)

when it’s time to say your goodbyes, suguru can tell you aren’t satisfied. that you wish you could do more. but he also knows that you won’t push it, because you’ve always respected him in a way no one else ever cares enough to do.

before you leave, you tell him that you love him. in a quiet voice, a whisper, as if trying to squeeze some sincerity from his chest — a last-ditch attempt at reaching him. he squeezes your hand, instead, and doesn’t say it back.

suguru just smiles, flimsy, a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

you look like you want to say something, but you don’t.

and he watches you go, with forlorn eyes, until the dot that is you gets too small to distinguish from the darkness of the night. until he can almost delude himself into thinking that you’ve turned into a star. he watches you go as if trying to burn the sight into his memory, as if this is the last time he’ll ever see you.

(the curse of i love you rots in his mouth, unspoken, unvoiced.)

two weeks later, suguru stands in front of a cage, covered in blood.

the girls in front of him, skinny, frail, crying — beaten and exhausted — look at him like he’s a god. him, pale, smiling, with blood staining his white uniform, bathed in moonlight —

like some kind of angel of death.

suguru soaks up the metallic scent of the room, basks in that sickeningly sweet feeling of release. he soothes the girls, as best he can. he leads them away, careful not to let them see the bodies.

(there isn’t much left of them, anyhow.)

suguru geto makes his choice. the only choice that matters.

he will twist himself into a curse. he will devour his ideal, until it’s all that’s left of him. he will embody it, become it, through and through. it’s fine if he dies in the process, it’s fine if everyone dies — just as long as it means something.

that is the conviction he will carry with him. the decision to only ever see the line between ends and means, the bright light at the end of a never-ending tunnel.

the blood of an entire village is on his hands.

(a part of him wants to throw up. another grins with ecstasy. every part agrees that it was inevitable.)

their screams weren’t beautiful. they were aggravating, revolting, the wretched buzzing of bugs ringing like static in his ears. but it felt good. it felt just. something in his bones settling into its rightful place, a spark of affirmation.

and suguru doesn’t stop there. as if desperate for the cup to finally run over, to make sure that there truly is no going back, his feet take him to a place he always hoped he’d never have to see again.

when suguru returns to that stiflingly silent town, to kill his parents, you are no longer there.

it’s not a surprise. he knows you escaped, long ago, just like him — just like you always said you would. not quite to tokyo, to your grave disappointment, but you managed to find some other town to live in. bigger, better. the new beginning he always hoped you’d get.

suguru does not want to think of you. he doesn't want to remember your face, the sound of your laughter, the way your eyes shone in the light. he wants to erase every single trace of your existence from his memory, if only to protect you from the person he will soon become. or perhaps only to spare himself the heartache of it all.

but when he passes by that one summer creek, forgetting you becomes an impossibility.

his eyes gaze at the silver-hued fish, sparkling beneath the moonlight, the big cicadas singing sadly under the shadows of the trees. he closes his eyes, and breathes in the solitude, and recalls a child with teary eyes.

suguru knows what school you go to. he knows what your town is called, what your street looks like.

and it is far, far away from the town he’s in. far from tokyo, too.

— and suguru is relieved.

(it gives him an excuse not to hunt you down just yet.)

the sight of his childhood home stirs no fondness in his heart. it is empty, it is silent, it is the same as always. and now it doesn’t even have you in it, anymore.

so it doesn’t matter.

suguru moves on with conviction, with bloodstains scattered across his clothes, seeping into the fabric. the screams of his parents don’t mean anything — they blur together with old echoes of evil, crazy, wrong.

(there is something wrong with that child.)

their blood sticks to the soles of his shoes and he is repulsed by their fragility. their blood stains his shirt and he is elated by the irony of it all. all he sees is a blur of red.

the road before him becomes clear.

finally, there truly is no turning back. that one sliver of good still left in him, crushed beneath the heel of his boot. at last. homicide, patricide — the more he adds, the easier it’ll be. easier to distance himself, easier to convince himself that his choice matters. that the blood of mere animals is a small price to pay for the future he envisions.

that he is right. that he is just.

(self-affirmation. what a holy thing it is.)

there is still much left for him to do. so suguru leaves the town behind.

he leaves that tiny summer creek behind.

it is a premature death; a resignation of identity. he isn’t an adult, not yet, but he has long since stopped being a child. he stopped being a child the moment he saw a bullet go through the skull of an innocent girl, the moment he saw haibara’s ghostly pale skin. no sorcerers stay children for very long.

none of it matters, anymore.

time passes with a speed that’s almost frightening.

suguru disappears, almost entirely faded, leaving only geto in his wake. a new person, an entirely different human being — ten years of living in an echo chamber, ten years of forming his personality in the shape of something twisted.

(something almost divine.)

and geto is right. just. geto has conviction, and that’s all he needs. everything goes according to plan; geto has a goal, and a family to pursue that goal with, to pursue that goal for. everything finally feels just right. breathing feels a lot easier. living feels a lot easier.

but everyone has a weakness.

and there is one thing, only one thing, that still acts as a thorn in his side. something that holds him back, a stain yet to be wiped away, a piece of gum stuck to the sole of his shoe. a tattered memory, clinging to his subconscious as if haunting him.

(i’ll support you, no matter what.)

if only you could see him now.

when geto left his old life behind, he did not contact you. he did not say goodbye. he threw away his phone, deleted every single thing that someone could use to locate him with, and left. he hasn’t heard from you in years, hasn’t spoken to you.

but he has seen you.

geto knows where your town is. what your apartment looks like. he knows what university you go to, where your go-to café is located.

so resisting the temptation eventually becomes impossible.

he tries not to think of you, he really does. he tries to act like you are nothing, to him, because you aren’t. you are proof of weakness and a fragility that geto loathes, proof of his own foolishness, his young naivety. you are everything he hates and everything rotten and everything he’s vowed to cleanse from the earth.

but, despite that undeniable truth, geto cannot help but seek you out.

he tells himself that it means nothing. that he’s only doing it to make sure he knows where he’s got you, like a predator watching over their prey, preparing to lunge out of hiding when the moment is right. because geto knows that your death, at his hands, is inevitable. what you are is a weakness, a connection that lingers on his skin like a mold, one he still has to the creatures that disgust him so.

so it’s inevitable.

in reality, he should have killed you first. before his parents, before the village — he should have killed you, because that would have solidified his devotion in a way nothing else ever could. but he didn’t.

geto likes to think of it as a symbol, of sorts. that he’ll save you for last. the same way children eat every last part of the cake, greedily, before gulping down the strawberry. every single non-sorcerer will be dead by the time he gets to you. you’ll be the one remaining obstacle, the one final stain to rinse away before his dream becomes reality, the one thing still standing between him and the divinity he seeks.

it is an honour, geto thinks, an honour he would not bestow to anyone but you.

but until that time comes, all he can do is watch over you. silently, so you don’t notice. always from afar, sometimes through the eyes of the curses he’s bound to. just to make sure that you’re still alive. that you haven’t tripped over your shoelaces and gotten yourself into a car accident, or gulped down a mouthful of food too fast and choked to death, or anything similarly pathetic. he wouldn’t put it past you. really, he has no idea how you’ve survived this long without him.

weak, fragile, clumsy. soft enough to sink his teeth into. you are everything that geto hates. you are nothing, nothing at all.

(and you are the same as always, despite everything. what an aggravation that’s become.)

he watches you, anyway; like a god finding amusement in his creations, an omniscient overseer watching you stumble day to day. he watches as you live your life, as you talk to other people with that familiar smile on your face. it hasn’t changed in the slightest.

he watches you laugh, watches you grab a crêpe from a street vendor, watches you cry when you think nobody is there to see.

(the sight sends a tremor running through his soul, one he desperately wants to pretend not to feel.)

on melancholic summer days, when the sun paints the sky pink and golden, he watches you clutch onto his old sweater. one you always said you were going to return, but never did — never got the chance to. you used to tell him it was too comfortable not to steal. that it smelled like him, that it made you feel less lonely. geto so tenderly wishes he could have forgotten those words, by now.

but he watches you, in the solitude of your apartment, as you bury your face in the wool and inhale the fading tinge of his old cologne. then you cry and cry, like a child, until the moon rises in the sky; until you’re breathing softly, lulled to sleep by his scent.

(geto thinks to himself that you are a fool, to still miss him after all these years.)

it’s not an everyday occasion. most days, he does not think of you. there are many other monkeys to kill, many things to discuss. there’s money to be made, plans to be forged, wars to be brewed. geto is a busy man. a family man, no less.

but when boredom is all he can feel, he still finds himself seeking you out. just to make sure no one has gotten to you before him. just a god enjoying the struggles of a lesser being.

that’s all it is, geto tells himself. that’s all it’ll ever be, from now on.

no one needs to know if he spends the occasional morning checking up on you, curious if you did well on that exam you were studying for. no one needs to know if he absorbs the curses that sometimes cling to your fragile skin, gulping them down before they cause too much damage. no one needs to know if anyone who gives you a little too much trouble suddenly disappears off the face of the earth.

no one needs to know if he reminisces, every once in a while, when the summer nostalgia is too much to bear. about your childhood, about that question you asked him — a million years ago, back when the center of his universe was a single summer creek.

(no one needs to know if he finds comfort in your presence, even now.)

on days when the moon hangs low in the sky, and geto can’t choke back the longing in his chest, he sits by your bed and watches you sleep. a forlorn expression on his face, lips stuck in a tight line. it’s risky, careless, but he’s helpless to the temptation.

most nights, you lie perfectly still. so still he can almost delude himself into thinking that it’s over, that you’ve passed on, that he won’t have to kill you after all. sometimes you twist and turn, mumble something unintelligible under your breath that he doesn’t catch.

he wonders what you dream about. he wonders if you ever have nightmares, if they’re ever about him. he wonders why he even cares at all.

geto resents you. resents you for existing, for smiling every day, for being a bridge between him and lesser creatures. he resents you, resents you, resents you.

(self-affirmation. what a holy thing, indeed.)

— he could kill you so easily.

he wouldn’t even need a curse to do it. a flick of his pinkie would be more than enough. that’s how fragile you are; asleep, right in front of him, breathing softly while he watches you like how the fox watches the lamb.

(he could end all of this, right now, in the silence of the night. in your most vulnerable state.)

and yet, geto allows the opportunity to pass him by.

he can’t get too greedy. that’s what he tells himself, as he slips out of your window in the dead of night, leaving your sleeping figure behind him. it’s not the right time. he can let you sleep, for just a little while longer. the bags under your eyes have looked especially heavy, recently.

(he tries not to remember the sleepover you had as kids, when he stayed perfectly still as you dozed off on his shoulder. doing his best not to wake you, watching you fondly until the sun began to rise. back when all he wanted was to protect you.)

geto knows that you know he’s not dead. he knows because he’s almost certain that satoru spoke to you, back then, even if he probably didn’t let you in on any details. because he knows that you’re sharp, sharp enough to know that he’s alive.

and even if that were not the case, geto knows because he’s sent you gifts. letters. absentminded, almost taunting, cruel in their joviality — always anonymous, always mysterious and vague and impossible to trace back to him. but he knows that you know who they’re from.

a little dance, if you will. geto haunts you like a ghost. he never lets you see him, but he lets you know that he’s there, sometimes. just out of frame.

he can only hope it’ll eventually haunt you to death.

(if it ends up as a comfort to you, instead, then, well — it is what it is.)

all of it is a safety measure in disguise. a way to satisfy the yearning inside his chest, without coming too close. that doesn’t mean he never falters, though.

every once in a while, he feels strangely compelled to talk to you. to waltz into your home, in a lighthearted fashion, to soak up your shocked expression. to ask how you’ve been, casually, and watch you stammer, stumble over your words — he can imagine the face you’d make, the way the lilt of your voice would tremble. would you cry? he can’t help but wonder, sometimes.

yet he always resists the temptation. careful, cautious, with every move he makes. like a shadow. he deliberately leaves no traces of himself behind, no breadcrumbs for you to follow like the curious creature you are. geto lets you know that he’s there, but he doesn’t let you see him, because if he talks to you he knows that he’ll kill you. and he can’t have that, not just yet.

eventually, he’ll do it. he’ll do it, and he’ll watch as your blood stains the silk of his robes like the inevitability it is. but not yet.

you’ll be the last one, the last one he’ll kill. the final proof of his devotion.

until then, he can have this. this sickeningly sweet scrutiny of your life, your life without him. the sound of your laughter, the reflection of untainted light in your iris.

(you are the same as always, and you are a weakness that geto is learning to live with.)

he can’t rest, won’t rest until it finally ends. until the curtain calls on your bloodied body, until he feels the cold skin of your palm against his lips.

only then will he finally know if it was all worth it. only then will he be free of this yearning. only then will he be able to say that the last remnants of suguru have been well and truly cleansed from his soul, that there is nothing left of the person he was.

only then will geto be able to call himself wholly divine.

but until that time comes, he can do nothing but watch you. when the temptation begins to crawl under his skin again, when he needs to remind himself of what he’s fighting for. that one thing, at least, never once changed; suguru geto has always fought for you. for your protection, for your survival, for your demise.

for your happiness, in life or in death.

(geto hates you, loathes you, resents you for being what you are; but suguru will always, always love you. forever and ever. no matter what.

and that will be their undoing.)

suguru geto dies without saying goodbye to you.

if there are any regrets to speak of, any at all, then maybe that’d be it. he never got to see that shock on your face, never got to hear you stammer in the way you always used to when you were nervous.

in the golden hue of sunset, the last of his resentment finally fades away. the curse known as geto disappears, and what remains is no more than a ghost — the ghost of suguru, the person he was, the person he never quite stopped being.

and when geto disappears, when the last of his resentment fades away, suguru finally allows himself to think of you. fully, without interruption, without unspilled blood festering beneath his tongue. just one single touch of sincerity, one last indulgence before it all ends. he thinks of you, you as a person, not you as a non-sorcerer. he gives your memory the respect it deserves. something worth cherishing.

he wonders what you’re doing, right now. he wonders if you studied enough for that exam next week, if you found a good gift for your friend’s birthday party. he wonders if you still miss him, even though he'll never be deserving of it.

satoru stands in front of him, genuine, sincere. and suguru thinks that he is a fool, just like you; to still have any kind of affection left for someone like him. after he left you both behind, that summer.

satoru doesn’t curse him. suguru wishes he would.

a soft bout of laughter falls from his lips, as the sun sets behind him, and he knows you would have found the sight breathtaking. you always did love sunsets, didn't you? the sun was setting when he found you with that bruise on your leg, he recalls — such a miniscule detail. he wonders why he remembers only now.

suguru chokes back his tears, still smiling. it’s a smile of love. a smile of regret. he thinks of satoru.

at least curse me a little at the very end.

those should be his final words. he should avert his gaze, follow the script, tear his eyes away from the only other person besides you who ever truly knew him —

but he doesn’t. he can’t. suguru looks straight at him, at satoru, into his eyes, so blue they seem to gleam in the orange hue of the melting sun. sparkling like little galaxies, like the crinkling of soda pops, like crystallized summer skies. he looks beautiful, as beautiful as he always was.

(i wish i had told you, suguru thinks. i wish i had told you everything.)

in a voice so small he barely hears it, so tender that geto would’ve felt disgusted to his very core, suguru asks his best friend for one last favour. he’s not sure why, not sure why it matters —

but maybe, just this once, it’s fine if it’s meaningless.

satoru listens, intently. he looks at his best friend with eyes so soft it makes suguru want to laugh and cry and go back to a time when they were all happy. but they can’t, that choice was lost ten years ago — he threw it away. smothered it beneath his boot heel. there was never any going back, from the very beginning.

satoru answers his plea. one final favour, one best friend to another.

of course.

a shaky breath. he can’t tell who it came from.

of course i will.

suguru smiles. a full, genuine smile, that reaches his eyes and blossoms like a flower in the light of the sun. it’s the last time anyone will see it.

satoru clenches his jaw. he crouches down, and presses his fingers against his best friend’s battered body, right over his bleeding heart. he will never, ever forgive himself for what he's about to do.

(suguru already has.)

and the moment before the last flicker of light leaves his eyes, suguru chooses to think of you.

he thinks of your smile, the way your lips curled up at even the smallest things. he thinks of your curiosity, how it always lead him back to you. he thinks of what could have been.

he thinks of that question you asked him, all those years ago — how accepted it made him feel. that sensation of being understood. suguru thinks you saved his life, that day.

(he never got to thank you for it.)

you were his childhood friend. his nearest, dearest, oldest one.

suguru doesn't believe the world he lives in is kind enough to allow him a second chance. and he doesn't think he really deserves one, either way.

but if there is a next life, if he’s lucky enough to be reborn —

then suguru hopes he’ll be born as a dragonfly, so he can find his way back to you.

he’ll meet you, again; in the afterglow of sunset, by that dusty, forgotten, tiny summer creek. framed by silver-hued fish and cicadas, and the silence of a town that glimmered while you were both in it.

he won’t be able to wipe your tears away, won’t be able to clean the bruise on your knee — but he can be with you. and maybe, in your next lives, that’ll be enough.

(what a lovely thought.)

suguru smiles, and lets a final breath of air course through his burning lungs.

— it tastes like summer.

there is a silent understanding, between the two of you.

it’s been ten years since you last spoke to satoru gojo. it wasn’t a very pleasant conversation, and somehow, you doubt this will be an exception. an acute awareness lies heavy in the air — and deep down, some part of you knows what he’s about to tell you.

(as if it was an inevitability.)

gojo doesn’t smile. his voice has no masked amusement to it, no sense of joviality. if you strain your ears, you think it may even be wavering, slightly, so faint it’s hard to tell for sure. just that one low shiver of his lips, saying more than words ever could.

he doesn’t beat around the bush. and you see that for the kindness that it is, despite the ice cold chill that creeps into your veins when his words spill out into the air, a full body shiver traveling down your spine.

he tells you that suguru is dead, and you don’t flinch. you don’t even cry. that comes later.

in the moment, all you can do is nod, a little pitiful, teeth digging into the flesh of your bottom lip to stop it from wobbling. like you’re trying to be brave.

truthfully, you had a feeling that was the case.

sometimes, it was as if you could feel him. just barely out of reach, a certain cologne lingering on your windowsill, a box of cookies you’ve liked since you were little delivered to your doorstep. a sudden feeling of being watched. a note wishing you luck on whatever exam or driver’s test or job interview you had the next day, accompanied by a silly smiley face so distinctly suguru it made you want to cry.

— how cruel of him.

but you couldn’t help but feel comforted by it, all the same. it made you feel like he was still with you, somehow, like he still cared. even though he disappeared from your life without saying anything. even though gojo told you explicitly all those years ago to stay away, if you ever saw him, as if he was suddenly dangerous —

but you could never be afraid of him. you don’t think you have it in you.

to you, suguru will always just be the boy who helped you up when you scraped your knee, all those years ago. a sweet, cool kid, who held your hand firmly and gently wiped the blood off your skin.

(he’ll always be your nearest, dearest, oldest friend. even if you aren’t his.)

but lately, there’s been nothing. you haven't felt any traces of him at all, no lingering gazes boring into your back. so you knew. deep down, maybe you always kind of knew.

gojo looks at you with compassion, understanding. and without him having to say it, you know he loved suguru too. you know because his breathing is shaky, because his eyes look puffy from hours of crying; you know because grief is like a stench, thick and heavy, overwhelming, one that clings to your skin and haunts your very being. just like love.

and you can smell it on the both of you.

(you both loved the boy who died for his ideals, the man who was so moral it killed him.)

the news will sink in, later. you are sure that you will crumble, and you are sure that you will cry. you’re sure that the road ahead will be a long one, full of obstacles and thorns. but that’s fine. you’ll deal with it when the time comes. suguru was always a little mystical, a little too good to be true.

maybe you always sort of assumed things would end like this; that he’d walk ahead without you, with all his whispered secrets and gentle lies.

(asshole.

he could have given you a call, at least. even just once.)

for now, all you can do is try to keep your trembling skin intact. and you assume that gojo will leave, now that you know, that this was all he came here for. just a messenger of death, coated in a grief so strong you doubt he’ll ever be rid of it.

but gojo doesn’t leave.

he hands you something, instead.

a polaroid, you quickly realize. a photograph, of three kids — one with white hair, one with brown hair, and one with black hair. the black haired boy is trying hard not to smile, you can tell. the other two have got their arms around him, squeezing his body tightly with matching grins, throwing up peace signs. he looks at them with exasperation in his eyes, but you can tell that there’s a love there. you can tell, you know, because despite everything, you still know him.

a lump forms in your throat.

it’s not the original copy, is what gojo tells you, apologetic. you’re almost certain that he kept it for himself, and you don’t blame him. i’m sorry. but i wanted to… you know.

(he wanted to give you something to hold onto.)

the gesture is a little bit awkward, just a tad clumsy. but it’s a genuine concern, a sincere kindness. you aren’t really surprised that suguru spent his last moments with this man instead of you.

gojo continues to speak, and you continue to listen, attentive — hungry for anything to mend the hole in your heart. but your eyes never once stray from the photograph.

(suguru looks so, so happy.)

he tells you that suguru talked about you a lot, back then. and without him having to say it, you know what he really means is he loved you a lot. the words of consolation ring like static, in your ears. it hurts. the hole in your heart just keeps extending, extending, extending.

gojo notices. so he gets to the point, the final point, the only one that matters. this is his duty, too — granting suguru’s last request. the only one he ever asked of him in words.

(it’s the least he could do, for the man he loved so dearly, the one who left him behind in the shadow of summer.)

he tells you that there’s one more thing. that suguru asked him to tell you something, that it was the last thing he ever said. words that he wanted you to hear, more than anything.

gojo’s voice does not waver. it is not his place.

you listen. you listen as if it will bring him back. you listen as if it is the last thing you will ever do.

and gojo speaks.

the words mean everything, and also nothing at all. how very like him. they bounce off the walls of your apartment, spilling into the suffocating air, echoing inside your mind. cutting into your bloodstream, rooting themselves in a particularly soft spot deep within your ribcage, chrysanthemums blooming from your flesh. petals filling up your stomach until you can scarcely breathe.

the final words of your childhood friend. your nearest, dearest, oldest one; suguru geto, who you will always love, in the same way the sun loves the moon, as naturally as breathing.

the dam breaks. the sky shatters. the sob you choke on tastes salty, and gojo looks remorseful, his figure blurred by your tears. everything comes crashing down around you — an inevitability you were hoping to put off, in the same way suguru put off talking to you all those years.

and now, finally, he tells you his honest feelings. when it’s already far too late. how very, very like him.

(tell them i’m sorry. and that i hope their exam goes well.)

— honestly. what a fucking asshole.

not once did you ask for an apology. you never wanted one, never thought to even wish for it. you didn’t need one.

all you wanted was for him to come back to you. to find you, again, the way he always did.

tears cascade down your scrunched-up face, big and childlike, but no one’s there to wipe them away anymore. you cradle the photograph in your hands, savouring every single memory you have of him. all the love your heart can muster.

the tears never seem to end. they continue to run down your cheeks, until all you can smell is sea salt, until the sun has set in the horizon, until the moon has hanged itself in the sky. a silent comfort, but it’s not enough. it never will be.

a sniffle pushes past your lips, and you hear yourself laugh — bitter, raspy, gentle all the same. what a moron, you whisper, a soft lull of your tongue. didn’t he know?

(you forgave him long ago.)

bonus 👀

#get u a man who loves you so deeply it causes him cognitive dissonance #im a lil unsure abt this piece pshshs but it has a rly special place in my heart!!#i just like the idea of geto being so desperately in denial about his love for u that he forces himself to hate u. self-affirmation yknow?#subconsciously putting u on a pedastal above the rest… being unable to let go of the connection between u even though he wants to sever it #having this evident fondness for you but its constantly battling with the part of him that hates what your existence means for him #telling himself that he’ll ’save u for last’ but its more of a measure to keep himself from killing u bc he knows his ideal is unattainable #so he’ll never have to kill you. it'll never get to that point. he wants to so badly though. but does he really?#yeahhh. im normal abt fucked up curse user geto <3 soft canon divergent sugu is still my fave to write for tho #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #geto x you #geto suguru x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #geto angst #jjk angst #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #geto x y/n #jjk x y/n

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yougavemeyourheartyouknow · 5 months

Text

Within cells, interlinked (Miguel O’Hara x Ai/Hologram! Fem! reader) Part 1

Hiii! Very excited about this bad boy, this is inspired by K and Joi’s relationship in bladerunner 2049, and this panel from 90’s run of the Spider-Man 2099 comics. Also there is some heavily implied (at the very least one sided) holofang (Miguel x Lyla) at the beginning, if that isn’t your cup of tea, then I’m sorry but that’s how I wrote it. Not proofread, enjoy!

(Y/N)-Your name.

Implied (one sided???) holofang, Lyla is like basically dead, mentions of sex work, cursing, Miguel being a sad lonely lonely man, ansty (if you squint), Miguel being a little mad scientist like at the end. Tbh idk really know what to tag these as.

Word count: 3k

Part 2

Masterlist

Playlist I listened to while writing

—

Neuva York 2099.

A dystopian wasteland that was once a pristine and other worldly city. But, like every other beautiful thing, it would be destined to fall, thanks to Kingpin, who now had the city under his thumb. Straile white buildings that once stood tall, crumpled and decayed, being replaced slowly but surely with dark titanium steel. Holographic projections filled the sides of ugly skyscrapers, advertising anything and everything, ranging from restaurants and video games to Ai women and cyborg upgrades.

Miguel’s original Ai assignment was unfortunately no longer functional, her software having been corrupted due to a virus that was released onto Miguel’s suit during a fight with Doc ock, Miguel having no other choice but to terminate her software, putting her out of her misery. It not only set Miguel back from his usual tasks as Spider-Man and his work at Alchemax, but the whole spider society, Lyla being the one who controlled the whole mainstream to the entire operation, along with help from Spider-Byte, but she couldn’t run the whole society technology wise, she had a life outside of her role there.

If Miguel had the time, he would have done what he had done the first time, and redesign her from scratch, raising her from her nonexistent grave. However, he knew he didn’t have the time. He had spent months programming her, not to mention the years it took for him to upgrade her into what she had become. It’s only been a week, and he could already see the cracks that were forming without her to hold it all together. His universe was already in disarray, he didn’t need another thing to crumble into dust in his hands.

The walk from the Alchemax back to his apartment was meant to help him clear his head, but it only dampened his mood more, bitter cold air and large dark clouds rolling in slowly, threatening to pour down on the decile city. Keeping his head held high and eyes forward despite his desire to go deep into a dark alleyway and swing the rest of the way home, keeping the tension in his temples build up with every sleazy salesperson attempting to sell him a sketchily low price for random gadgets that he was certain was stolen, or sex workers attempting to coax him into a small brothel. All kinds of lives walked past him as he ventured home, humans, cyborgs, full robots and AI holographic companions, a million life stories that could be told.

Less and less began to cross his path as he neared his apartment building, eye bags dark and sunken in as he turned his head to the left, he was now alone on the sidewalk, stopping as he put his hand on the railing that lined the evaluated walkway, he remembered not even 10 years ago, that very spot would look out to a beautiful pond, small ducks that pattered around, families gathering around to have little outings, ones that Miguel only ever really dreamed of. Now, all that was a ginormous digital billboard that would switch advertisers every week or so. Although he never really expected they’d project the one that was on display now. He had to squint a bit so that the now dripping rain didn’t get into his eyes as he watched the projection.

“The perfect companion, the perfect coworker, the perfect partner. Joi, your personal Ai. Everything you want to hear, everything you want to see.” The sentences rotated between each other over and over, Miguel stayed silent as he stared mindless at the naked back of the large Ai hologram, their skin admitting a light glow as she sensually ran her hands through her hair. Despite the words “companion” and “coworker” showing up on the ad, it was painfully obvious what the holographic woman was really meant for.

Still, he caught himself unable to look away, despite seeing the ads hundreds of times prior to this moment. He didn’t even register when the Ai had turned around and squatted in front him, making it so the two were at eye level.

“Hello handsome.” His eyes finally drifted up to meet hers once she spoke, he wasn't very fond of the default version they often used on most of their ads, so seeing this version in front of him was a lot more of a nicer sight to see. “What a day hmm?” When he didn’t respond she just came closer, “you look lonely… I could fix that…” She whispered with a head tilt, “you look like a good Joi…” before getting back up and moving away from Miguel once more.

Maybe it was the stress, maybe it was his way of pretending he wasn’t mourning an algorithm, maybe it was just him being tired of carrying everything on his shoulders, still… his eyes slowly went down to his orange watch, moving it in front of the bare glowing figure, before his free hand slowly hovered over the watch, hesitating for a moment, before pressing purchase.

—

Once Miguel got home he spent the next hour or so reworking your programming, jailbreaking and removing restrictions, wanting to make sure you were prepared to handle the society’s system before he even turned you on to make sure you wouldn’t crash the second you were hooked up to it.

Eventually, once everything ran to meet his expectations, he stood back and waited for you to appear in front of him. Waiting impatiently as he watched the small loading circle chase itself until you appeared, although you weren’t fully “awake” still, eyes closed, head slumped forwards and arms hung limply to your sides. Still needing to be given a name, an outfit and if he desired to change anything from your physical appearance he could. He decided to keep your assets the same, and placed a simple outfit on you, deciding if you ever evolved enough to be sentient on the same level as Lyla was, that he’d give you free range to change it. For a name though, it was a bit harder of a choice.

Maybe it was him having his previous one for as long as he did, but he wanted you to be… different, then her, a name that wasn’t, well, Lyla. Something nice and pleasant to say, but not simple enough for him to forget in the midst of him in a fight. After some pondering, he finally typed in the name into his watch and pressed the “finalized model”. Releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding when he saw your head slowly begin to lift and your eyes slowly fluttered open.

“Hello Miguel.” You said him a smile.

“Hello (Y/N).” His lips twitched upwards for half a second.

—

It took a while for your program to adjust and be accustomed to the database, he never realized how much strain he put on his older Ai until he watched you try and accommodate the same thing, yet then again, he built it all around her, instead of vise versa. It wasn’t just you who had needed some time to adjust though. The amount of times that spiders (including Jessica and Miguel) would call for Lyla still instead of you was starting to… annoy you for lack of a better term.

You had been patient at first, appearing despite the slip up, simply correcting the person who called for you and going on with the request, then it seems that the patience started to run thin. Rolling your eyes or letting out snarky little remarks, then eventually you just started to not respond unless they called you by your actual name, which only led you landing yourself in a lecture from Miguel, being threatened to reboot your system. Him ranting about how it could be dangerous or something, after the first few times, it stops being fear insulating, once you even let out a yawn at his usual lecture. A yawn. How close he was to throwing his desk across his office.

The longer you stuck around the more knowledge you gather, the more self-aware you become, mimicking human thoughts and emotions, reading anything you could get your digital little hands on. From the words of Ancient Greek philosophers to thousands of different articles on how the human brain works, what different areas controlled what. You found humans quite interesting, such complex yet flawed creatures, you can understand why so many filmmakers and authors who write science fiction have some odd variation of robots wanting to either become humans or destroy them.

It’s almost cliche, but you can’t help but develop the same fascination with Miguel. How could you not? You were quite literally around him 24/7, you could tell he wanted to be taken care of when he wasn’t taking care of everything himself, and who were you as his assistant to refuse?

—

“Welcome back Miguel.” You smiled as you appeared next to the door before he could even step foot through its threshold. Your eyes followed him as he took his shoes off and threw his keys on the coffee table in the middle of the living room, landing with a loud clunk.

“I just saw you back at HQ.” He chuckled, shaking his head as he closed the door behind him before he made his way to his kitchen, “It's been 20 minutes.” He added as he turned the corner, being met with you already there, leaning against the counter as his coffee machine was already pouring him a new cup in his favorite mug, with the stove being lit on for him to place his left overs onto to warm up.

“Being greeted when you arrive home helps boost your overall well-being.” You quipped, which only gained a small hum of acknowledgement as he placed a pot of bistec on top of the open flame, and a bowl of leftover white rice in the microwave.

“It could also help boost my overall well-being if you didn’t act like such a brat half the time.” He countered back as he stirred the streak and potatoes to make sure it didn’t burn before turning to face you, meeting you with that all too familiar smirk he always gave you. You were quick to mirror it. “You're supposed to make my life easier, ya know?” Despite it being a rhetorical question, your smirk only widely more.

A silence fell over the kitchen as he goes back to focusing on his food, you just stay there, watching as he made quick work fixing his plate, mumbled a small “sorry” to you everytime he would “bump into you” (as Miguel liked to call it) despite him only passing through your holographic body as he grabs the plate and cup of coffee and goes it set it down at the table, making sure to be fast as to not hold onto the gradually warming glass crockery long enough to burn his rough hands.

With a sigh, he sat down in front of his plate as he heard the faint noise of your projection deactivated from the kitchen, leaving him alone in the quiet home of his. He’s fork moving around the contains on his plate, piercing the potatoes and steak but never lifting it up to bite into the steaming meal. After a few more moments of playing with his food, he placed his fork back down, keeping his eyes down on his plate despite him lifting his head up.

“(Y/N).” He called out after cleaning his throat.

“Yes?” Your voice called back out, ringing through his apartment as he waited for you to reappear, only to let out a huff when you didn’t.

“…have dinner with me?” When he finally looked back up, he was met with you already in the chair across from him, a digital plate of food replicating his in front of you. His lips twitched up as he whispered a light thank you for entertaining his wish, even down to mimicking eating as you both sat there, his eyes never leaving yours.

After his appetite was satiated, and the dish were washed, he wander to his living room, being met with the sight of you already being sat down on one of the small leather accent chair that sat to the right of the coffee table, a small orange tablet-like screen being held in your hands as you tampered away on it, most likely readjusting tomorrow's schedule or researching more on some random topic you found interesting. Leaning against the doorway, he couldn't help but watch you, admire you. He found it humorous that you chose to physically sit down and read about topics even though you were built with the knowledge of practically everything. It made you feel more… real. It made him feel less insane when he found comfort in your company.

“Would you like me to leave you alone mig?” You asked after a second, eyes never leaving the screen in front of you. His heart stopped for half a second when you called him by the nickname as he shook his head.

“¿Qué estás haciendo?” He asked as he made his way towards you, stopping once he was close enough that if you had a physical being, his legs would have been touching your knees. (What are you doing?)

“Just going over your suit diagnostics, I’ve noticed that it’s been lagging a bit.” You hummed, not even fazed by the close proximity.

“…(Y/N).”

“Hmm?”

“Look at me.” He commanded, but his tone is still somewhat soft with the order, your screen evaporating from your hands as you went to meet his gaze. He hesitated for a moment, leaving his dry lips before finally continuing. “You know, I feel like I don’t appreciate you enough.”

“Miguel, I’m your Ai assistant, my whole purpose is to help make your life easier.” You couldn’t help the slight snark that came seeping through your sentence, causing him to let out a scoff and playful eye roll.

“That’s not what I mean, you know that.” He countered with a head tilt, his hands sliding over his thighs and finding their way into his front jean pockets.

“What do you mean then?”

“What do you think I meant?” Now it was you who let out an eye roll as you huffed.

“Miguel, you know I can’t ‘think’. I’m not human, I can simply process and collect information and recite it back. I speak only in facts and unbiased sources.”

He couldn’t help but hate it when you talked like that during casual conversation, despite the deadpan look in your eyes and the small sass in your infliction, it only reminded him that you weren’t real. The only difference from your body and air, was that you were a set of ones and zeros. He could swat a hand through your body and you would simply glitch around it as it interrupted your coding and it attempted to adjust around him, how for once, he wishes that when he would “bump into you” that he would be met with solid flesh, you stumbling back a bit while you scold him, his hand coming around to met the small of your back to help re-stabilize your footing as he lets out a small chuckle.

“Don’t be a smartass with me (Y/N). You know, most humans I know don’t have the ability to think either, and they for sure aren’t as nearly intelligent or knowledgeable as you are. If they can form an option then you can too.” He was met with your face contorting in confusion, a rare expression on your face, one he appreciated when he got the opportunity to witness it. “I want you to think, give me an original thought. Not a statistic, not a fact. Think for yourself (Y/N).” The was a pause before your lips parted.

“I… I think…”

“Thaaaat’s it…” He leaned forward, his face close to yours as he encouraged you to continue in a low whisper. “I think?”

“I think… that if I was a human, that… that I would be in love with you Miguel.”

Oh.

“(Y/N).”

“Yes Miguel?”

“Shut off.”

“Yes Miguel.”

Within a blink, you were gone. His hands came out from his pockets with a heavy sigh, before he rubbed his face and ran them through his hair, causing the semi-neatly slicked back hair to become desiveled. Glancing around the now empty living room, the small constant buzzing from your hologram now being replaced with the gentle tapping of the rain against his window.

Miguel O’Hara was truly a lonely man. A man with weaknesses and flaws despite himself, a man with feelings, and vulnerabilities and emotions. Miguel O’Hara was just a man, just a human. A human who wanted to be loved. To not be seen as some sort of emotionless being, the irony wasn’t lost on him that the only thing that seemed to really care for him, and see him in that way was something that wasn’t even programmed with actual emotions. Oh how he wished you were real, how you were human.

He couldn’t turn you into a human, but he could get close.

With a sigh he entered his home office, the only room he had restricted giving you access to appearing in. Closing the door behind him before leaning against the door, his eyes instantly finding themselves stuck on the limb on the table. An arm to be more specific, the synthetic flesh that matched your complexion wrapped around its exoskeleton. It took him almost a month to do just one arm, and although the time length of that he estimated for this project was a bit more lengthy then he’d like, if it meant getting every minuscule and minute detail perfected, he’ll take all the time in the world for it. He’d make sure it was perfect, that you’d be prefect.

—

Tags: @oscarissac2099

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o hara fanfic #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara au #spiderman 2099 x reader #astv miguel #astv spiderman 2099 #Miguel ohara x Ai reader #miguel fanfic #Miguel O’Hara #miguel ohara #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #spiderman 2099 fanfic #spiderman 2099

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tteokdoroki · 2 years

Text

OCTOBER 29TH. THE WINTER SOLDIER

“who the hell is bucky?”

♱ — eijirou kirishima + non-con/dub-con.

♱ — synopsis; he’s not a bad man, he promises you that. it doesn’t matter how many people he’s killed with his bare and metal hands…kirishima will make sure you know how sorry he is by the time he’s done with you.

♱ —length; 5.2K

♱ — warnings; please read for your own safety! mdni, smut 18+, heavy smut, dark content, mentions of murder, assasinations, stalking, non-con to. dub-con, drugging, phallophilia, begging, manipulation, virginity loss, cherry chasing, power dynamics, breath play, temperature play, fingering ( fem!receiving ), strength!kink, softt fem!reader, yandere!kirishima, winter soldier!kirishima. not beta read !

♱ — notes; happy saturday angels!! we’re so close to the end of kinktober waaah!! i kinda like this one, it’s a bit dark so please be careful when reading !! check the warnings as well… tbh ive had kiri brain rot all this week, so this makes sense !! as usual, hope you enjoy <3 - m.list ₊ kinktober m.list ₊ taglist 𓆩♡𓆪

people make mistakes every single day— they can be simple and mundane, like tiny little white lies when you forget something important to someone though it might hurt their feelings. the burn of embarrassment whenever you’d messed up in front of an entire class.

mistakes were common. everybody made them, eijirou kirishima made them— they were out of his control.

the winter soldier was a man lost in his own mind, watching his life go by behind vermillion eyes— taking others with hands that no longer loved or felt like his own. to them, hydra, his creators…kirishima was the ideal weapon, a blank canvas to turn into something sinister and evil. a good natured, strong man carved into the perfect shape to be a killer. behind his own soft, once expressive ruby eyes; eijirou was forced to watch the life drain from the corpses of others— people who had families waiting for them back home with home cooked meals they’d taken for granted, people with children they’d wished they’d raised right or friends that hadn’t quite forgiven them.

kirishima had heard it all, the pleas for him to let them live and do better right before they died by his hands in the most brutal way. each time he ended a life, a piece of his soul went with them, years internal torture following him like a dark fog— weighing down on him like heavy rainfall, soaking him to the bone with red. it’s caked against his skin, ingrained deep under his nails no matter how much he scrubs at them with a bar of soap and water.

death follows kirishima everywhere, aches in his bones and the creaking silver metal of the winter soldier’s arm. it was a curse, a burden that he couldn’t bare to carry on his shoulders— the serum in his veins like a poison that had stolen his memories, the happy soldier boy he used to be.

he hates the way people look at him now, breaking free from hydra— the sympathy shining in their eyes, he hates the way you look at him too. part of kirishima’s recovery, as suggested by his therapist, was to make amends with every person impacted by his crimes as the winter soldier, and you, the sweet girl next door were next.

kirishima killed your father years ago, before you could probably spell your own name without sounding it out— he had been a kind diplomat wanting nothing but peace. after his release from cyro, eijirou had tracked you down, only to discover he’d taken your mother’s life too, in a tampered car crash. you’d been alone ever since.

the winter soldier had taken a happy childhood from you, made you the cute little recluse next door who hid in her stuffy parchment scented apartment— with books stacked high, romance your favourite genre, what you found your fantasies in. kirishima couldn’t deny the way his heart fluttered, but guilt edged itself over the expanse of his brain whenever you pitied him in the coridoors between your tiny rented apartments ( though from his recent hero work and inheritance from captain america, he could probably afford to buy tha building out ). your shiny doe eyes would pity him, see the pain in the winter soldier’s own as well as that breaking in the vibranium laced in the arm that wasn’t really his.

in his one hundred plus years of living, kirishima had probably been on more dates than you had knowledge on boys and the reality of romance in general.

you’d been made that way because of eijirou.

because of the winter solider.

and he would make it up to you, he would. it was a promise and the least he could do.

years of training had made it easy for kirishima to slip into your apartment that night— silly you, poor little you for having left your window wide open, letting the bulky ex assassin slip through as if he was a silent Siamese cat being welcomed home. footsteps carrying no sound effortlessly slipped into your bedroom just for a peek at you.

kirishima could have watched you forever, drawn to the way your lips twitch as you sleep and your eyes screw shut even tighter as if you’re being drowned in your own worst nightmare. you’re adorable.

you have no idea what’s about to come next.

it makes the winter soldier’s cock twitch beneath his clothing, leaking fat globs of precum against his inner thighs. he aches to be inside of you, feel you blossom around him like a flower in the spring for the first time— ‘cause god you’re so innocent and inviting.

there’s an instinctual chill down your spine, one that breaks you from your heavy slumber and has your shooting up— doe eyes wide like a deer in headlights while you search for the figure that had been looming over you in the dark. “e-eiji?” your whisper sits hoarse in your throat, voice laced with cute little wisps of sleep, the nickname you’d given him shooting straight to his erection. “what are you doing here?”

“oh nothin’,” eijirou lies, “just the neighbourly thing and asking for a cup of sugar?” the smile that he gives you is quick, not quite reaching his eyes that usually hold such kindness… there’s something off about kirishima tonight, something that makes you feel sick to your stomach and makes you want to run.

you can’t scramble from the sheets fast enough, for the winter soldier has been trained to move faster— bulky arms swinging around your waist before your feet even hit the floor, throwing you back into feathery pillows of your bed despite your kicks and screams. it’s frightful how kirishima can just manhandle you any way that he wishes, using the bulk of his body to get you onto your stomach like it’s nothing, like the winter soldier would and not your soft, mellow companion who laughs with his gut and grins with the ruby in his eyes. the one who pulled you out of your house for walks to the library late at night.

this version of the man who lives next door, who told you he was recovering from war wounds long before your time, growls deeply as he grabs you by the back of you throat and tugs your head to rest on his shoulder— breathing deep from where you’ve put up a fight, hissing from where your trimmed nails scratch at his one good and fleshy arm. “don’t fight it, please,” he comments, nosing under your earlobe, breathing in the scent of vanilla and money milk from your body wash. “i just want to make it up to you, for what i did to your parents. for taking your childhood away from you.”

hairs on your neck stand on end, you don’t know if it’s from the mention of your dead relatives or from the way kirishima’s belt clinks as if he’s been undoing it— his metal hand, the perfect killing weapon, folds coolly against your neck and with one wrong move it could crush your windpipe in a second. “e-eijirou what are you—?” you stutter, voice spiking with fear, lodged in the dry ridges of your throat. “m-my parents—“ eyes widening, the realisation hits, you know exactly what he means.

you know that it’s him who murdered them.

“baby,” the winter soldier coos as you thrash dangerously in his grip, a second away from having your neck snapped. lunging forward, your hot and teary face is stuffed into the pillows to the point where you almost can't breathe, kirishima straddling your hips while simultaneously pushing more of his clothes away. “‘m sorry… s-sorry for what i did to you.” for what he’s doing to you— pushing your flimsy nightshirt up your back, over the curve of your fleshy ass.

a pleaful whimper lays on your sweet lips, tears welling in your eyes as you practically scream for the ‘hero’ to get off of you— let you go. you’re devastated, trust betrayed by a friend you thought you’d made, a friend now using your body for his own selfish gain. the red head squeezes at the flesh now exposed to his heated hungry stare, running his metal arm over your curves, precious thighs and cute ass—revelling in the way your entire body reacts just for him, goosebumps rising across your back like chicken skin.

“you’ll forgive me, right?” he goes on, words broken up by shuddered breaths as eijirou’s metal fingers slip between your thighs from behind— spreading apart pretty pussy lips that glimmer with slick, evidence to you of your body’s betrayal , but to him of anticipation, excitement. forgiveness. “just wanna make it up to you,” he murmurs almost empathetically, voice thick with lust— it feels like the war hero is making fun of you, pinning you down against your will between muscular thighs. “i’ll make it feel so good, baby. promise. i’ll make it worth your while, make you forgive me.”

tears are hot on your cheeks, burning down the apples of them in salty tracks— you don’t want this, you don’t want him, the man who supposedly gave his life to save Captain America, to take something so precious to you. your virginity— not after finding out he killed your parents in cold blood. you feel almost sick for having found kirishima attractive before, for dreaming of situations a little similar to now, where you’d cry out his name as he made love to you and made you feel seen. eijirou mistakes the wince of your body as he circles a cold digit around your tiny entrance for a twitch of pleasure, grinning to himself as he adds a thumb to your clit to draw slow, salacious circles around the swelling nub— the coldness sending shockwaves up your spine.

it feels nice, good— but that doesn’t make you resist it any less, make you want him anymore. small whispers of ‘p-please eiji—‘ hiccuped into the sheets soaked with both your arousal and tears. a fresh wave of unexpected slick gushes from your virgin cunt when kirishima slaps his bare cock against the length of your slit, as if he’s going to take you with little to no preparation. he’s big, throbbing and soaked with his own milky arousal, his veins fitting snug between your pussy lips, fat and blue while his tip blares an angry shade of red.

if this were any other time, you’d be happy to have your mouth water— filling with thick drool at the thought of having the winter soldier’s massive girth split you open and be your first. yet, as eijirou grinds his meaty cock into your filthy, embarrassingly soaked virgin mound, you remember that he’s not so nice. trapping you between strong thighs, a metal arm and a frightening snarl.

“eijirou please—“ you try again, wiggling your hips to get away from him as he ruts his achy tip through your sweet lips, bumping your clit, until he reaches right between your ass cheeks. “p-please don’t do this. i’ll…i’ll do anything you want! i’ll forgive you!”

“jus’ let me do this,” the winter soldier slurs over the spit pooling on his tongue, dazed by the way the clear strings of your juices cling to every vein of his cock— make it shine even in the dark. kirishima feels feverish, the scent of your innocent cunt driving him insane, on the brink of forgetting his mission— making it up to you. sweat drips from his hairline, even though he’s barely started, hitting the small of your back. “it’ll be okay, she’s… your pussy… she’s dripping for me.” he says like he’s in disbelief, grabbing hold of his dick and nuzzling it against your swollen pleasure nub to hear you whine like a pretty bird song. “she wants this, you want this. i’ll do what’s right, make it up to you.”

tiny fingers grip the blankets below as kirishima makes a move to push his precum loaded cockhead past your tight little entrance, moaning breathily while hunched over you. you’re sure you’ve bitten your lip to the point of bleeding, red and raw at the slightly painful intrusion of the winter soldier’s dick past your virgin entrance. “‘shima,” you shake your head, watery eyes stinging. “it hurts,” you add weakly.

pulling back with a deep groan, eijirou runs his human hand through his sweaty mane. the last thing he wants to do is hurt you more— add to the heartache of losing your parents. “fuck baby...didn’t mean to hurt ya, we’ll try something else okay?” it’s almost sick how kind he sounds, even if there’s a wobble to what he says. there’s a shift behind you, and you almost miss the heat of his cock against you, only for it to be replaced with the frozen temperatures of his vibranium fingers prodding against your spasming hole.

against your own will, your thighs twitch apart instinctively— making room for kirishima between them as he circles the rim of your entrance, living up his fingers with the salacious pool of your arousal before pushing against the resistance of your unclaimed walls. “stay still baby, s’gonna sting for a bit,” he comments, choking on a depraved, corrupt gasp at how warm you are inside. the redhead stuffs you full of two fingers, sliding them into you with the aid of your honeyed cunt, and immediately scissors them, curling them to map and get a feel of your velvet walls.

you’re untouched territory, an empty playground of innocence and purity and now…kirishima’s for the taking. he’ll teach you things, he thinks while stretching open your hot little cunt to prepare you for his cock. he’ll teach you real pleasure, real love, all the things you missed out on after he ruined your life.

“eiji—!“ your cry is needy, amorous as you claw at your pink pillow cases, hips jutting back clumsily at the first shocks of ecstasy to flitter into your blood stream. you’ve never felt like this before.

“how’s this, baby? better than before?” the winter soldier drawls, practically as needy as you with a pout on his lips, red brows furrowed in concentration for making amends with you and your pretty pussy. his gaze of blood rubies falls to how your creamy sex sucks in his two metal digits, pressing coldly against new spots inside of you, curled against spongey walls until you’re cross eyed and the room spins.

“s’oh my god,” comes your muffled, sweet grouse— the adorable sound tearing in your throat. “s’better… oh, eiji!”

he needs you to understand that this is all for you, every calculated drag of his thumb over your sticky swelling clit, every stroke of his vibranium fingers rapaciously pumping in and out of succulent unused mound is meant to bring you to the high heavens and help you forgive him. kirishima’s chest swells with pride knowing he’s the first to have you like this, seeing you clamp down on him as he pleasures you, thumb glued to your little nub, writing apologies into it. “i need you to know, baby,” he says in awe of how you take him, even if you squirm and pretend to resist. “that ‘m so sorry, that i’ll do my best t’take care of you like this…”

a weird feeling in your lower belly starts to build up, in slow stacks like building a house from the beginning— all of the new sensations that come with it having distracted you from the reality of the situation. you can’t trust the winter soldier anymore, not to protect you and not to look out for you— especially when he’s ravaging your puffy pussy while pinning you in place. you hate that it feels good, making your brain tingle and happy hormones crash across it in heavy waves but you can’t help it. your hips buck back onto eijirou’s fast paced fingers which move along your slippery walls at an impressive speed, collecting your juices in the seat of his silver palm.

somewhere, a voice in the back of your head tells you to scream and cry and kick eijirou off— but all you can do is whimper and whine for more as he whispers sinisterly sweet nothings into the shell of your ear. ‘is this enough, baby?’ he’d sigh. ‘can you take more?’ or ‘i hope this makes it up to you’, each candied word sending sparks of ecstasy down your spine and flutters through your darling cunt while eijirou moulds you to take his cock.

“need ya to cum for me sweetheart, you’ve taken me so well,” he chuckles from behind you, gentle as his fingertips brush against your g-spot. the praises are warm, familiar to the real eijirou kirishima you know lives next door. before you knew the harm he’d done to your family. “can you do that for me, please? then i can fill you up so good, make you truly forgive me. please baby— i fuckin’ need it.” there’s an air desperation about the big burly man finger fucking you to his hearts content, and you think that if you let him keep talking— if you give him this, he might leave you alone.

“i think—‘shima, it feels weird…t-think ‘m gonna c-cum?” you squeak, unsure despite the impending feeling of the rope twisting in your lower tummy that burns as thick metal digits curl against your gummy insides, doused in your syrupy juices. kirishima doesn’t let up, breathing ragged from behind you as he jackhammers his fingers deep inside of you until his palm smacks against your bubbly ass with every stroke.

he seems pleased as your thighs begin to shake violently, the grip your angel cunt has on him tightening while his shameless stare shoots down to where your limbs meet and you ooze onto him. “let it go baby, you’re gonna feel so good, lemme see, i wanna see you cum,” eijirou damn near begs in a delighted and devoir sigh. a scream rips through your body, dwarfed beneath the size of the super solider as the winding cord in your tummy finally breaks its tension— the pressure that had been building inside of you coming crashing down and your orgasm tearing through you, spilling in clear liquid from your sticky and squelching sex. your teary and dazzling doe eyes screw shut, rolling back into your skull while you release, tainting your folds with a sugar glaze shine— the sweetest treat in the world to kirishima being making you feel good.

he doesn’t relent on your poor pussy as you shake throughout your very first high, stealing the precious moment from you and any future partner who might really love you— who’s not obsessed with the idea of your forgiveness. eijirou thumbs fast and cruel shaped into your raw clit, overstimulating you until the stream of your release stops seeping through the bedsheets. “good girl, such a good girl,” he hums, slowly pulling out of you while you spasm through the aftershocks of cumming for the first time. “stay here, kay? ‘m gonna get something before we have you try ‘n take my cock.”

the weight of the winter soldier eases off of you, letting air fill your lungs and a clear conscious return to you.

you wait until his footsteps are no longer audible to make your move, shooting up from the bed with no time to think about how sick your favourite hero is— for thinking you’ll forgive the deaths of the people you love most in exchange for him taking away your precious purity.

but you don’t have time to make a run for it, tackled to the bed once more by the stronger, trained killer. “i thought i told you to stay put,” kirishima snarls at you like you’re meek prey to him, forgetting his manners and his mission. “don’t you listen, baby? this is all for you,”

“i don’t want you!” comes your bratty little yell ( at least to the winter soldier ), who only throws you back onto the bed in the same position you were before— sitting heavy on your waist with your face shoved into the sheets. “please eijirou, l-let me go! i won’t tell anyone what you did! i’ll keep quiet! i’ll—“ your words fall away as eijirou grabs you by the back of the neck and you feel a sharp pinprick to your side. “w-what was that?”

a wooziness takes over you, calming your brain like it did when eijirou was making you feel good. “‘m sorry, i didn’t want to have to use it,” he says with what feels like faux sympathy. “but you just wouldn’t listen!” the redhead eases you down onto the bed once more, it’s a little something that’ll make accepting my apology a little easier, baby. so you stop squirming, so it hurts a little less. now be good, yeah?”

“y-yeah, okay,” you reply, slow blinking as your body begins to accept its fate.

using the remnants of your previous orgasm, kirishima slicks himself up again, running the meat of his shaft along the length of your quivering pussy— sending hormones of lust dancing across your brain. you can’t see him; but kirishima’s cheeks are flushed with unadulterated desire, his gaze swimming each time he taps the head of his cock against your souse pulsating hole. “gonna fuck you so good, gorgeous, don’t you worry.” he says, words a little too rushed and too eager, and without warning, the war hero’s hips jump forward to drive his cock into the deepest parts of your sex, fully lubed up with all your piquant juices.

eijirou is bigger than you’d dreamed off before all of this, weighty against the stickiness lining your unclaimed, gummy walls. you can feel every brown wrapped pretty around his girth pressing into pleasure spots you’ve not even had a chance to discover for yourself. his breath is shaky and uneven, prickling at your ears despite the static that crackles across your brain— from lust or from the drug you can’t even tell.

“i wanna move, baby,” the winter soldier gasps, wavering and hips stilling just as he reaches the hilt. this is the least he could do for you, try to be gentle as he completes this last mission— takes your virginity. in all these years of training for hydra, kirishima has never exercised such restrained, barely keeping himself together with every flutter of your sex and ripple of heat from your body around his cream soaked dick. “so tight, you need to be fucked. you need me, s’gonna be okay baby…just lemme take you.”

against your better judgement, the voice in the back of your mind screaming at you to fight back— you roll your ass back to meet kirishima’s hips, pushing your searing cunt further onto his girth as if to coax him to move until eijirou is completely bottomed out and balls deep inside, oozing sweet nectar down his thighs and balls alike. “p-please,” you slur cutely, hating your body for wanting him so bad after everything he’s done to you. “w-wanna forgive you,”

that’s all the motivation the winter soldier needs to go through with it all, you yelp at the pure strength he possesses in manhandling you into the perfect arch— all of his weight dropping onto you with his caramel and sweaty chest pressing to your back. a pathetic hiccup escapes you when kirishima simultaneously latches onto your neck and pulls his cock from you, using teeth and tongue, lolling the pink muscle over your skin, decorating you with lovebites you won’t be able to hide from nosey onlookers. in one powerful thrust, he’s filling you back up to the brim— all the way up in your guts until you feel him in your tummy, making you feel dwarfed by the super soldier above you.

with what little energy you have left, still doped up from whatever he spiked you with— you rock your hips back onto eijirou, letting your cute and ravaged cunt suck more of him into your warmth and aiding him in building up a steady pace to his thrusts.

the bed starts to groan and creak beneath the force of the redhead now brutally ploughing into you— precum in fat drops smearing against your ripe and fertile walls that feel like home to his hardened length. your pussy blossoms for the man like a flower in a spring bloom, ready for the taking, ready for kirishima. only he could do this for you, teach you what seeing stars look like, drag you to cloud nine. it was the least he could do for you, and it made his dick twitch knowing that you were starting to accept him— clenching down on his mushroomed tip ever time it pulls out of you with a wet pop.

you stretch painfully over his creamy cock, though you feel like you’re on cloud nine— overwhelmed with a ravenous ecstasy that shoots from your brain to the tips of your toes, right through the heartbeat in your pussy. “feel amazin’ baby, oh that’s right, take me so fucking well,” eijirou whispers into the skin of your shoulder over sentimentally, the heat of his breath clinging to the sex in the air. his large palms drop to the globes of your ass— pulling them wide apart to spit between them and getting an enticing view of his dick lewdly plunging in and out of your perfect virgin hole. “that’s it…you like this don’t you, you like me doing this to you…”

your mind says no but you can’t help but hump back onto him, still growing used to the burning pleasure as eijirou pushes in and out of you. “y-yes eiji, i-i like it,” he barely leaves your tight heat, with the little proximity between your saltine sweat slicked bodies, prodding at that special spot inside of you that makes you gush sweet nectar.

you hope it’s the drug talking, every time you coo and cry out for the winter soldier— limp body taking the godspeed pace he moves at, filling you up each and every time. “‘h’baby, you really mean that?” metal fingers crawl up your spine, encapsulating your throat as if he can’t crush it within a second. he tugs your head back with a cool grip into a heated kiss, forcing his tongue over yours, mouths slotting together and sharing moans. “never meant for it to be like this, never gonna—fuck… cause you harm e’ver again, yeah?” kirishima’s voice rises in octave as it does in addiction, the handsome soldier succumbing to the mindbreak your gratifying, ichorous cunt had to offer him while he tucks into you.

“yeah…s’okay. o-oh! eijirou!” comes your brainless babble, your sanity falling into a cock-drunk state. eijirou’s own mind is as foggy as yours, plagued by thoughts of painting you white inside and relieving you of his burden— teaching you pleasure, teaching you sin. the slow roll of your hips back onto his mingle with the harsh slap of skin on skin, wet and crude, and hanging nastily in the air.

there’s barely any oxygen for you to breathe between it all— kirishima rhythmically squeezing at the bruised column of your throat in tune with surging hips, assaulting your poor g-spot. “jus relax baby, go’ta sleep,” you swear you think you hear him say when you grow even more light headed. “lemme take care of you.”

he had no idea your little meek mewls could drive him this far up the wall, or that he’d want you to himself even after taking your virginity. kirishima sucks on the pulse point under your ear to sedate himself, keeping you locked in place with his metal arm— licking the beads of sweat from the side of your face while his free hand wraps itself in the fabric of your sweat soaked night shirt and uses it to tug you back onto his aching, pulsating dick.

his sloppy groans echo throughout the lost purity of your bedroom, no longer a safe place— but now a reminder of how your body betrayed you, swaying in a taboo dance with the winter soldier as a crude mix of your arousals swing between both of your sore thighs. “i gotta cum baby, please lemme cum,” eijirou huffs breathily into your ear, grabbing you by the ass while he shifts to his knees and using the pure strength of the super soldier serum and his bionic arm to lift you up and down on his cock, forcing you to match his pace in frantic, hungry movements. “need to cum, need’a make it up to ya, please—oh fuckin’ fuck!”

“e-eiji!” you sob, reaching back to dick crescent moons into his fleisher arm that holds you up— letting the winter soldier fuck into you at his own will. “slow down! please!”

he shakes his head, red locks damp and sticking to his forehead as he tucks his face into the back of your shoulder. “c-can’t, need you close too. ‘m gonna cum,” he tells you, whining profligately— the ex assassin revelling in the way you drip thickly down his balls, heavy with cum, the lewd pap pap pap of your sexes moving together creating a song that echoes in the sex tainted air, matching up perfectly with your erotic choreographed routine against the sheets, tainted with your arousals. “gotta get’cha close, are you there gorgeous? that feeling in your tummy back?”

you nod, simpering out for more even though your brain is too misted to keep up with what’s happening— lust coursing through your veins with whatever drug the winter soldier has put in your system. but the feeling is barely there, and you writhe against kirishima for more…even if you hate it, even if you’re not so sure you hate it anymore.

sleeping with the man that murdered your parents.

however, you don’t need to ask for more, eijirou’s metal fingers releasing your throat and allowing you to breathe again— sliding over your clothed, pebbled nipples and down the softness of your stomach before they coldly reach your hot cunt. they toy with your swollen clit between your throbbing, puffy folds to guide you over the edge once more.

two orgasms for the two people you’d lost.

your second high of the night comes crashing over you in a sudden wave, rendering you even more weak and useless than before— you seize up, trapping kirishima inside your soaked cunt as you gush like a sweet flowing river once more. the red head follows suit, his cock pulsing while his cream lines your raw and abused walls. he doesn’t ever let up, pushing his seed further along your walls until both of you collapse into the bed with exhaustion. your hole burns, cum seeping from your entrance as you swear kirishima feels even bigger when his dick is swollen with his orgasm.

“i’m sorry,” he says hoarsely once you’ve both calmed down— but your mind is running a mile a minute, fuzzy and lagging with a combination of your high and the drugs in your system. “‘m so sorry baby,”

“it’s okay,” you whisper back, eyes fluttering with sleep again.

though you’re not sure what you’re forgiving the winter soldier for this time.

taking your parents, or taking your innocence.

1K notes · View notes

ghostytoad · 8 months

Note

hey!! if you’re taking requests, i’d like to request the rottmnt boys falling for a fem! reader who’s basically like your stereotypical raph. she loves fighting, loves working out, loud asf, short-tempered, blunt, sarcastic, cursed with resting bitch face, all that jazz. but, once you get to know her, she’s actually really funny and sweet. NEVER afraid to speak her mind, so she may come across as rude or sassy at times, but she never really means to be. DEFINITELY has mild adhd and is on the autism spectrum. 🫶

Hfhdks yippe, my v first request!! tbh the boys can use a little extra chaos in their life so this was really fun to write abt. hopefully it's decent, i'm still v new to writing this kinda stuff!!

* Kiss with a Fist *

ROTTMNT Boys x Fem! Raph-esque reader who is secretly a sweet softie

Summary: The Hamato brothers unexpectedly fall for an intimidating, snappy, but secretly sincere human.

Headcanons for: Raph, Donnie, Leo, & Mikey

Fem! Reader; Romantic; Fluff; Mild violence || Words: 4k

Feel free to send in more requests and prompts!!

Raph:

to be honest, raph was initially intimidated and wary of y/n when they first met

like sure, he's used to his brothers being a bit too curt and impulsive and april can come off as sassy and overbearing but none of that compares to the levels y/n is on

something about how forward she can be really puts the poor turtle on edge

until he starts getting to know her a little better, finding out more about her hobbies and all

after a period of initial surprise, he starts getting used to y/n's presence in the lair

she fits in almost naturally in their family dynamic; she's basically one of them now and he loves having someone around who shares his interests

plus he could always use a workout buddy; not that his brothers aren't good spotters but he could always use a break from their antics

will take y/n to every wrestling event & spend the entire time gushing about his newest wrestling idol and when they're not out and about beating up bad guys or playing video games, he will allow y/n to sit in and spot him while he powers through his rigorous workouts

he enjoys being able to swap workout tips and tricks with y/n; treats every little bit of advice she gives as divine wisdom & he will take it all to heart

he likes to brag to his brothers about how strong y/n is, especially considering that she can keep up with his mutant abilities; everything she does impresses him to no end

opened a jar of pickles without help? amazing

landed on her feet after a pretty high tumbling jump? absolutely incredible

being able to handle his occasional hugs? literally the best thing in the world to him

having y/n around motivates raph to train harder and push himself past his limits

unfortunately, this has led to a few injuries-

"uh oh. y/n ain't gonna be happy to hear about this..."

cue the scolding, the lectures, and the bedrest. y/n's orders. but raph secretly enjoys being doted on by y/n so he won't say no

it didn't take raph too long to realize his feelings for y/n

he'd been picking up on little hints here and there, but he'd talk himself out of that silly train of thought every single time

like when he'd catch her watching him train and could feel that rush of heat burn at his cheeks

'i've just been training too hard and it's way too hot in here'

and when he couldn't get y/n off his mind when she wasn't around?

'i'm just worried about her is all. who knows what kinda trouble her loud mouth might get her in-'

but it was when y/n was comforting raph after a bust mission one particular night that really did him in and confirmed his feelings

It's bad enough when the brothers fail in their latest mission, but to get their butts handed to them by Hypno of all villains? Eesh, talk about major humiliation stink. The loss had them all silently slinking back into their lair, hoping to sleep off the defeat at the hands of their unimpressive foe. Raph was just about to make his way into his room to mop when he spotted Y/N waiting up for them in the lair's living room. It was upon seeing her sitting there with an unreadable, stern expression that a realization hit him. They had plans later.

"Hey, sorry, YN. No Brunch 'n Punch tonight. Raph's a lil' tired..." his low and gruff voice did little to hide the timid air in his tone. "I-I'll make it up to ya though! Promise!"

Despite his stuttered attempt to console Y/N and her anticipated disappointment, his tired expression and wilted posture gave away just how exhausted and downtrodden the towering mutant was. It was more than enough to tell Y/N a few things:

Raph had another rough day.

Raph once again pushed himself and got hurt.

And Raph needed someone to help carry that weight.

Before he could continue his defeated shuffle past Y/N, he felt a sudden tug on the lip of his rugged shell. Not even a second after, he felt his torso being enveloped by the subtle warmth of what could only be a person. Was Y/N hugging him...? Looking down from his stunned silence, he found Y/N with her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, face hidden by the jutting ridges of his plastron. Unable to find the words to break the tense silence surrounding them, Raph simply lets out a low chuckle as his hand gently caresses the back of Y/N's head.

"If this is about me bailing on our plans, Raph gets it. You probably hate m-"

"What am I gonna do with you, Raph...? What am I going to do if you won't take care of yourself..." Y/N's voice was unusually small.

"Say what?" The mutant didn't know what to make of the wavering tone in Y/N's voice. Was she mad? Was she worried? It was unlike Y/N to be this... vulnerable.

After a few more moments of silence, Raphael broke out of his confusion with a realization. Y/N was still holding him. The exhaustion and shame began lifting its shrouding curse off of him as his body eased into the comforting embrace. So warm. So gentle. So caring. Everything about Y/N was perfect, even the parts of her personality that she chose to share only with him. It was then that another, more pressing realization came to his mind.

Damn, does this boy got it bad. He's in love.

Donnie

he's entirely put off by y/n's whole demeanor and keeps his distance at first; like raph on his own can be a headache to deal with, but now there's two of them??

he won't outright avoid her, he just prefers quieter company

he can't exactly say they share many similar interests, but y/n's newfound spot as a member of his little family gives him incentive to at least try finding some common ground to bond over

so when it comes to the more physical and brawn-heavy aspect of his work, he can truly appreciate y/n's constant presence

god knows he can't trust his brothers to be careful or attentive enough to help him in the lab and april isn't always around to enthusiastically offer her assisstance when needed... but y/n just happens to be the perfect solution to his otherwise frustrating problem

dare he say it: "she's reliable and more importantly always happy to lend a hand"

and donnie really values the way y/n is willing to listen to him drone on about his latest projects and mapping out his complex thought process; all with very little complaint (a huge plus for him!)

in fact, she even seems eager to learn and is quick to pick up on the nuances of his work. he can also understand/empathize with y/n's misunderstood demeanor when it comes to her stone faced expression ('or resting bitch face, as she so eloquently put it')

donnie's never been good at expressing himself; he knows how vexing it can be when everyone seems intent on misreading one's emotions based on something as fickle as facial expression

and the more time donnie spends with y/n, the more he's able to observe her and her subtle mannerisms

it's gotten to the point where he can pick up on her subtle cues and accurately read her mood better than anyone else. to his brothers, it's as if y/n and donnie share a telepathic connection with how easily they can communicate with a simple glance

it doesn't take long for him to get used to y/n's more rambunctious and wild behaviors; when he's not busy working, he will sometimes invite her on their less eventful missions and adventures

he won't say it out loud, but he's really come to respect y/n's combat prowess and her ability to hold her own

admires it even... one might even say he lov-

'nope. no. nein. not the l-word...'

donnie's always quick to catch himself before he can finish off that thought but he can't help himself; cute and mean are just his type after all

whether or not he chooses to pursue those feelings though....

well, let's just say y/n really didn't leave him a choice after she practically saved his life during one fairly unexpected encounter

It hadn't been a hard mission. The Hamato brothers had successfully thwarted another run-of-the-mill robbery at the appropriately named Run of the Mill Pizzeria. Relishing in their triumph, the four turtles, joined by their newest companion Y/N, decided to make a night of it and order a few celebratory 'zzas. It was as Donnie was making his way to the booth that he was halted by the stumbling grip of an iebriated yokai yanking him back by his shoulder. The patron's swaying form crumpled forward as they tried supporting their full weight on the hand that was still firmly locked on Donnie's shoulder.

"'Ey you.... I know you..." the strong stench of alcohol burned at the turtle's nostrils as he furrowed his brow in confusion, "Yer the guy from that brawl last night. Ya dropped my drink!"

Ah. Mistaken identity. Before Donnie could correct them, the yokai straightened in a menacing stance, lifting their hand's grip from him and balling into a fist.

"You... YOU! You owe me a new drink AND a new shirt! Ya ruined MY GOOD SHIRT!"

Ever the smug one, Donnie simply shook his head and with condescension dripped from his lazy grin.

"Perhaps laying off on the booze might help to improve your memory. You're clearly looking for a fight and I'm not one to hold back in battle." With a wave of his hand, he feigned a dramatic sigh, "But I'd reconsider what would be one too many bar fights. I mean, you've obviously done your brain enough damage."

What followed was the unmistakable and resounding thud of a body hitting the restaurant walls. The remaining brothers watched amusedly from their booth as the purple-coded brother peeled from the newly dented wall and collapsed onto the floor, dumbfounded and only mildly in pain.

"He'll be fine~" Leo mused as he caught sight of Y/N's horrified expression.

"He was kinda askin' for it..." Raph shrugged, unwilling to stop Y/N who was now stomping a warpath from the booth to the drunken offender.

"HEY, ASSHOLE!" were the only words uttered before Y/N's flurry of furious punches unleashed themselves onto the yokai's face. Donnie watched fondly as Y/N's strike after strike seemed to reduce the belligerent patron to a pathetic and unintelligable mess on the floor.

Something about her pose, the way her bruised fists were held up in triumphant victory as she loomed over the monster's unconscious form, seemed to pull at the deepest, darkest parts of the turtle's heart. Was she always this badass and cool? Was it the lighting? Was it the concussion setting in? Has she always looked this cute?

"Wow... You're incredible....." Donnie muttered under his breath with awe.

So much for science being his only love.

Leo:

honestly? the more chaos, the better

raph is great and all, but he always had the annoying tendency to boss everyone around, and his ever-growing worry chasm was really starting to irk leo

so it's great to have someone around that isn't always on his case about his stunts or lecture him on dull things like responsibility and duty and all

while he does take into account the fact that Y/N is a human, she's a special human with special priviliges in his mind; meaning open invites to every mission (no matter how dangerous) and her own front row seat to every single convoluted plan leo's made

he's always there to actively enable her loud habits, he just lives for the banter and drama; he calls it his very own telenovela

obviously he'd never let her get too far into it and when things start getting a little too real, he will try getting y/n to tone down the snark and deescalate the situation

can't have his new bestie getting herself into trouble after all! and he'd never hear the end of it from his brothers if she ever got hurt bc of his encouragement

as boring as he finds training to be, having y/n around really helps to spice things up. he's always calling dibs on having her for sparring partner duties and won't hold back much

on the rare occasion that he's not getting into trouble and causing mischief with y/n, he'll show her around all the best stargazing spots new york has to offer (via portal ofc)

no reason in particular, it's just nice getting to see the stars past the haze of the city's light pollution and it seems like something friends do

'it's totally normal for friends to stargaze alone together, right?'

yeah, no he's sure of it. he just really happens to enjoy y/n's company without the constant interruption of his brothers' teasing

it's not like he's asked her to go with him on a magic carpet ride or anything

oh wait...

right, there was that one time when they decided to stop by the mystic city antiques shop and try out the dubiously named "magic carpet" the shop was selling. how was he supposed to know it was a flying magic carpet?? magic could literally mean anything!

he didn't complain when y/n would hold onto him as they weaved through the skies of the hidden city. and it was cute watching her face scrunch up with laughter every time he made a joke

but that's just friends being friends, right??

'this better not be what being wrong feels like because it's not a great feeling at all'

"Alright, Leo. This'd better be good for you to be calling me up at 3 in the morning." April's voice hissed through the call, still rough with sleep and irritation as Leo had called her up on a school night of all times.

Leo gripped tightly at the phone as if it were his only line of defense from the terrible, terrible ordeal he was about to confide. "Apes, you gotta help me! I think I might be losing my edge or something."

"Your... what?"

"My edge!" Leo reiterated, panic set in his tone, "My mojo! The Leo-factor! I think I might be losing it and I don't know how to get it back!"

A few moments of soft shuffling sounding from the phone's receiver met Leo's frantic explanation. April must've been slowly forcing herself to sit up from where she'd been sleeping peacefully only minutes ago.

"... don't 've time for this..." was all that could be deciphered between shuffles.

The disgruntled girl could only sigh, "Okay. Leo. What makes you think you've 'lost your mojo'?"

Leo paused in thought, humming low as he tried to recall his recent mojo-related blunders.

"Okay, okay, so! You know how Y/N's been hanging around the lair a lot more lately? It's like every time she's there, I get thrown off my game. And I mean, I really get thrown off! With everything!"

"Mhm?" April deadpanned.

"None of my one-liners seem to land with her and it's because I keep forgetting how to talk mid-sentence! So I end up sounding like some stuttering moron! And I keep running into things and tripping over my own feet when I see her like I'm the clumsiest chump alive. And just the other night I was out testing the sickest tricks on Mikey's new board- don't let him know that by the way- when she shows up outta nowhere with her smug little smile and throws me off my moves! I mean, all I see is her eyes on me and the next thing I know, I've got a mouthful of gravel and concrete. It's like she's sapping all the cool out of me and I need it to stop like yesterday!" Leo had to take a moment to catch his breath as he explained his troubling situation, clearly unaware of just how clueless he was. April could only wait silently for the information to sink in, a sleepy scowl painted on her face. God, she could just strangle the boy if he were here.

"So you're telling me that you called me up in the middle of the night to tell me that you have a crush?" she hissed once again, the gritting of her teeth audible.

"A what? Crush? Oho, no no no no." the mutant scoffed in disbelief, "I'm telling you that Y/N could be a witch or some kind of energy vampire or something and we-"

"Leo, let me ask you something. What's more likely: The fact that Y/N is a mojo-sucking vampire witch or the fact that you may have some feelings for her?"

The thought hadn't really occured to him before. Could it really be something as simple as a crush that's doing him in? He had been feeling a little different as of late... But he just assumed it was all from the mutant witch powers Y/N might've been using on him. He took a few moments to contemplate, a dark blush gradually forming across his face the more he thought of Y/N.

Well, what's not to like about her? She's a certified badass, she's cool, she's never afraid to give it to ya straight. And underneath that tough exterior was an equally cool but much softer version that balanced out Leo's more impulsive and emotional side. Could it really be that Leo had feelings for Y/N?

".... Do you think Donnie can run a few tests to find out what kind of witch she is?"

"I'm hanging up now, Leo."

"NO, WAIT, I-" Dial tone.

Crush it is then. Man, did he hate being wrong.

Mikey:

ever the eternal optimist, mikey is never one to judge people and gives them every benefit of the doubt until he's forced to believe otherwise

so when he first meets y/n, he takes to her standoffish nature like bees on honey

instant besties right off the bat, even if they have their differences

he's quick to introduce y/n to everything mutant turtle life has to offer, whether it be inviting her over for a few rides on the half-pipe or introducing her to the cinematic magic that is jupiter jim and its many sequels

no matter what they do, he's always there to make sure she's having fun

mikey picks up on y/n's kinder side pretty quickly too

being emotionally intuitive and a self-proclaimed therapist, he is able to see through y/n's more abrasive personality and finds her gentler side to be just as exciting and fun, if not incredibly endearing

he'll even encourage her to be more open with that part of herself by insisting she join him in his little Dr. Feelings sessions he regularly holds for his brothers (totally not against their will)

during the whole session, he'll check in on y/n and ask if she has any thoughts on the matter

"what about you, y/n? you've been around us long enough to get a say. am i right or am i totally right?"

he knows he can trust her more blunt and forward nature to lay it down as it is

but he can also trust that she won't say anything to hurt them just for the sake of it

so she's a perfect fit for the role of Nurse Candid/Assisstant Tough Love

funny thing is, Dr. Feelings can't really talk mikey out of making a fool of himself in front of y/n

he tries not to be too clingy or push too many boundaries, but how can he resist?

she's like the highlight of his little adventures and he genuinely enjoys having her around all the time that he just *needs* to understand every part of what makes y/n her

together, they'd make the ultimate power couple!

er... power couple business-wise

purely professional in this unofficial practice

'unless.....'

time for the Love Doctor to pay mikey a little visit

"Candles? Check. Fancy silverware? Check. A deliciously decadent three course meal prepared by your truly? Check." Mikey took a moment to look over his fine work as he finished setting up a "platonic-but-can-be-romantic" dinner for Y/N. He'd been hard at work all week trying to come up with the perfect excuse to invite Y/N to the lair alone. It wasn't a date or anything! Well really, that was the trouble with this whole thing. It had to strike the right balance of friendly and intimate. With a hint of romance drizzled in. And a sprinkle of platonic fun. Gah, what a confusing mix.

Sighing thoughtfully, the young turtle set down the two artistically prepared culinary plates on the now satin-draped dining table that sat in the center of the projection room. Sure, it might've been a bit cliche but the quiet ambiance of the room was the best choice for a romantic candlelit dinner. Plus if the whole romance angle didn't pan out the way Mikey had hoped, a movie marathon would surely break the tension and shift gears into friendly hangout mode. Everything about this night had been planned to a T, down to the fact that his brothers were busy on another patrol that was sure to take all night.

The orange-clad mutant gave the setup another quick once over and, satisfied with his creation, glanced up at the clock that sat above the projector screen.

"7:18 and I still got a few precious moments to spare!"

"Spare for what?" a muffled voice asked from the door.

Oh no. What were they doing here?!

"Hey hey, little brother~ Nice setup you got goin' here. Very élégante~" Leo teased with his mouth full of pizza.

"L-LEO?! I THOUGHT YOU GUYS SAID YOU WERE GONNA BE OUT UNTIL MORNING!"

"Uh, yeah? The patrol was supposed to keep us 'til morning." Leo shrugged nonchalantly as he licked pizza sauce from his fingers,"But as it turns out, Donnie isn't the math wizard he seems to think he is."

"SCOFF! My mathematical genius is not to be held accountable for YOUR poor planning!" From behind Leo, Donnie stormed in with an incredulous look as pizza sauce drenched his face and upper body.

"Look, if anything, MY PLAN did not call for explosives. That was all you, buddy!" The twin retorted, poking at Donnie's sauce-covered chest with his trusty odachi. Mikey could feel his right eye twitching as he watched the two bicker and consequently ruin his plans.

He seethed through gritted teeth, "You guys were supposed to be gone..."

The strained response brought the two brothers' attention back to their youngest sibling, both raising a brow in question.

"Oh yeah, what IS with this setup?" Leo's cocky smirk did little to hide the teasing behind his question. Did he know?

"Oi, guys! We still gotta clea-" Raph stumbled in, wiping his body down with a red soaked towel as he was presumably the most sauced up of the three. "Woah. Whatcha got going on in here, Mikey?"

Great. Just what he needed. As he did his best to keep his composure, all Michael could do was groan and slump down to his knees, withering with embarrassment before his brothers. "If you guys MUST KNOW, I had a very special night planned for me! I was gonna have a nice dinner with Y/N before you came back and messed with m-"

"Woah woah woah, are you telling me that my baby hermano has a date tonight?"

The heat suddenly rushed to Mikey's cheeks, taunting him and exposing his true motives to his brothers of all people. Raph and Leo compounded that humiliation with their slew of 'aww's and coos. Donnie simply gave his little brother an approving nod and thumbs up as the duo's teasing continued.

"I-It's not what it looks like, I swear!"

Oh, it absolutely was.

"It's not that I like her, I just-"

Want her to be mine.

"I just needed to figure out how I feel!"

But he already knew. He was hopelessly in love.

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astermath · 1 year

Text

sweet like you🍓pt. 2

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary: carmen helps you out with perfecting your pastries to present them to your boss. you spend time getting to know each other in the place he knows best; the kitchen. things take a slight turn when you get back to your apartment.

word count: 3.1K

PART 1

notes: I really enjoy writing carmen tbh, I guess writing him is my way to giving his character some peace outside of his usually extremely stressful life. this got suuuper long im so sorry sdfgshj i got kinda carried away. let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for further carmen berzatto related content!

warnings: mentions of suicide/death, addiction, use of alcohol, cursing

Carmen hated nights.

At least during the day, he was forced to do things, be productive, talk to people, keep his mind occupied. But at night, it was just him. Alone with his thoughts. The only thing keeping him company his cynical mind and deranged dreams.

That night was no different.

Carmen woke up in a cold sweat, hand clutching at his chest as he sat up. He nearly gasped for air, and upon noticing how shaky he was, got up to splash his face with cold water. That didn’t help much either, so he went to his balcony (if one could even call it that), and lit a cigarette. The sun was already coming up, and he knew he wasn’t getting much sleep again feeling like this.

He sighed, smoke emitting from his nose as he pulled out his phone. You’d replied already, even given a time. Reading your words made him feel slightly more at ease, slightly more... Real. A reminder of his obligations to the people around him, but also, and he’d never admit this, something to look forward to.

[carmen]: absolutely, see you then

Your next shift went by smoothly, as per usual. The French themed café you worked at had become such a big part of your life, not that you minded, you were in love with it. And as much as she’d deny it, you could tell the owner had taken a liking to you. You heard from the barista that most waitresses would get fired within a month or so, but you’d stuck around for three now.

“She said you have a certain ‘je ne sais quoi’... I think you remind her of her younger self.” Your colleague said while pouring out a cup of coffee.

“Right,” you took a tray and readied another order. “You sure you didn’t imagine that? I don’t remember Odette ever saying something nice to me before.”

“Not to your face, no.” She grinned, putting the cup on your tray. “I’m sure you’ll get her to put some of your stuff on the menu, she just has to warm up to it.”

“Yeah, just,” you grabbed the tray, balancing it with ease. “Give me a few decades to work her through that.” You both chuckled as you walked off to continue your work.

Carmen stood across the street, looking through the window of the café. Shit, he was way too early, and that wasn’t even usually like him. He’d left the Beef over to Sydney while he was gone, telling her he had something important to take care of. And although that wasn’t entirely untrue, he wasn’t sure she’d agree if she found out he was hanging out at some café.

He slipped into the place rather sneakily, deciding that if he was gonna have to wait, he might as well do it in there. It had been a while since he’d been inside, usually just to get a quick coffee or something, and he’d never paid much attention to the décor before. He was kind of impressed, despite being smack dab in the middle of Chicago, the café had a true Parisian feel too it. Sure, he’d never been to Paris, but he could imagine this was pretty close.

He sat down at a booth near a window and stared outside. He felt a bit uneasy just... waiting. There were so many things he still had to do, so many debts to pay off, things to consider, to change--

“Carmen? Is that you?”

Your voice snapped him out his train of thoughts, it almost felt like a ray of sunshine breaking through a dark cloud. He turned and saw you holding a menu, dressed in a cute dress and an apron.

“Yeah, I uh... Got here a bit too early, my bad.” He gave an apologetic, halfhearted smile.

“It’s no worries,” you handed him the menu. “You can just enjoy a coffee or something while you wait! What would you like?” You pulled out a notepad and a pen.

“Oh, uh... Christ...” His eyes squinted as he scanned the laminated menu. “Am I goin’ crazy or is this all in French?”

“Nope,” You chuckled. “It is. When I told you the menu hadn’t changed, I meant really, nothing has changed.”

“Fuck, alright, uhm... Just a regular coffee then.” He handed the menu back. “Please.”

“Comin’ right up!” You chirped, and he watched you make your merry way back into the kitchen. He could’ve sworn you damn near floated by how excited you seemed. He didn’t really understand it. You worked a waitress job where you weren’t allowed to change anything, you had to work early on Saturdays to help your family out and he could have guessed you probably still had time to maintain a healthy social life. It almost annoyed him how well balanced you seemed.

But someone as cute as you couldn’t possibly annoy him.

He received his coffee not long after, thanking you and admiring the porcelain for a moment. The more he noticed about this place, the more... Uneasy he felt. He didn’t realize why, and he kept mulling it over until long after he’d finished his drink.

Ah.

Because the Beef looked like a garbage dump compared to this.

And he owned that garbage dump.

He hated himself a little for comparing the two, they weren’t comparable at all besides both serving food and drinks, but the fact that you were only two blocks away didn’t help. And he was about to be helping you too, his competition.

The crew would kill him if they knew where he was at.

You worked on closing up, cleaning a few last cups and arranging them neatly before walking back to Carmen’s table. “Hope you enjoyed your coffee my good sir, but I must request you to join me in the kitchen, for I have prepared a mighty array of desserts for thou.” You grinned.

“Alright, alright, I get it.” He got up, ready to follow. “Don’t I gotta pay for that coffee?”

“S’on the house. Come on, we’ve got pastries to try!”

The kitchen closely resembled the rest of the establishment, although much more homely. It was small, doable, but just a little cramped.

You pulled out two stools for the two of you to sit on, before going to the fridge and taking out a tray. “Alright, so...” You put it down on the counter. “Here we’ve got classic cheesecake with a cinnamon cookie crust,” you pointed at each dessert, “a cream strawberry tart, and last but not least,” your fingers fluttered in a ‘jazz hands’ way, “tiramisu topped with fresh strawberries.”

Carmen scanned the tray before him. The presentation was immaculate, but he found that often with these types of desserts the looks were better than the taste. He hoped that wasn’t the case.

You sat across him, more nervous than you initially expected to be, as he tried each of the desserts. He had some notes about each one, as expected, you were just an amateur cook, but you could tell his eyes lit up a little when he tried the tiramisu.

“Mm,” He hummed, putting his spoon back in for another bite. “Shit, that’s fire chef...”

“Chef?” You raised an eyebrow. No one had ever called you that before.

“Sorry,” He swallowed, “Freudian slip, my bad.”

You chuckled. “No, no, I don’t mind... The tiramisu is a family recipe, actually. My nana used to make it all the time.” A nostalgic smile graced your face.

“Those are usually the best.” He thinks back at the food him and Mikey used to make when they were younger, and somehow, it makes the tiramisu taste even better. “So, anything else you wanna add?”

“Oh!” You were a little caught off guard by his question. “Uhm, well... Now that you mention it, I’d love to add macarons, to play into the French theme of the café. I’ve just never been able to get them right, and trust me, I’ve tried.”

Carmen puts away the empty glass cup. “Do you want me to teach you?”

“Huh?” You were sure you misunderstood at first, but the look he gave you was telling you he was at least expecting an answer. “Uh... Sure, yeah! I’d love to! I think we still have all the ingredients here from my last attempt too.”

“Great.” He got up, clasping his hands together. “Let’s get to bakin’, chef.”

The two of you stood next to each other at the counter. His jacket was off, now replaced with a baby pink frilly apron, supposedly the only one you had. You’d been relatively quiet, mostly focusing on taking his advice and following instructions. But as he was sifting almond powder, and you were beating egg whites, he had this strange urge to fill the silence. It was weird, usually he preferred working quietly, but it was almost strange to hear you not talking when you were there.

“So... You’re not from Chicago, are you?” He kept his eyes on the sifter.

You grinned, still whisking away. “What gave it away?”

“You smile a lot,” he took the bowl from you and held it upside down to check the consistency of the egg whites, “and I haven’t seen you light a single cigarette.” He put the bowl back and started weighing off some sugar. “So either you’re not from here, or I want whatever drugs you’re taking.”

You chuckled at his remark, finding his self deprecating humor quite amusing. “No, you’re right. I grew up on my parents’ farm, though it’s not too far from here, I never really came close to the city. Moved here about three months ago, so I haven’t explored much.” You took the sugar from him and gradually started adding it to the egg whites. “What about you? Born and raised?”

“What gave it away?” He joked back. “Born, raised, moved away for culinary school, worked in New York, now I’m back.” He sighed. Being back in Chicago was... Strange. Because after not having seen his brother for literal years, he was now constantly confronted with everything that reminded him of Mikey. Including his business.

“Interesting.” You started working together the mixture, sneaking glances at his face every now and then to gage his reaction. “So... What brought you back?”

A longer silence followed your question, and you could tell his hands even stopped moving for a moment. Suddenly he seemed tense, and you worried if your question had struck a cord.

He swallowed, eyes fixated on the ingredients before him. “My brother.”

“Oh! Well, I’m sure he’s happy to see you back.” You offered a kind smile.

“Yeah, I uh... I’m not sure he would be.” He glanced at you, eyes quickly darting back to the vanilla extract he was measuring out, uncomfortable with eye contact when he talked about Mikey. “He died.” His eyebrow twitched slightly. “Suicide.”

You stop whisking for a moment to look at him, and you can tell his face had reddened. You feel awful for pressing him on such a sensitive subject, but you had no idea.

The two of you continue to prepare the batter in complete silence for a good minute. Both of you feel bad. Him, for dumping this information on you, and you, for even asking about it.

“I’m sorry,” you speak up, filling up a piping bag with batter, “I had no idea.”

“S’okay,” He runs his hand through his hair, a nervous tic, almost. “I’ve been trying to talk more about it. Especially since I kinda run his business now.”

“Well, if it counts for anything,” You give him another sweet smile, and this time, it does actually make him feel a little better. Silently, he wished they could put the feeling your smiles gave in pills, so he could take those instead. “I think he’d be proud of you.”

He doesn’t reply. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he doesn’t know if he agrees. He doesn’t know what Mikey would think, and from what he’s heard from Richie, he’s not even sure if he would recognize the person his brother had become through his addiction. But the possibility is there, and you reminding him of it was enough. For now, at least.

He noticed you struggling with the piping bag and got behind you, hands sneaking over yours to help you hold it correctly. “There we go.”

Carmen doesn’t seem to notice how close he is to you. Or how warm your face had gotten. Or how the way he smelled was distracting you from listening to what he was saying. Cigarettes, coffee and sandalwood... A strange, but not unappealing mix of scents.

You turn your head just a slight bit and catch a glimpse of his blue eyes. They were so bright, piercing almost, but they held such a profound sadness behind them. You wondered what else they held, what other stories he struggled to talk about.

Carmen noticed you weren’t watching what you were doing and looked up, accidentally meeting your eyes now. And then he realized how close he was, cheeks growing flushed like a teenage boy as he let go of your hands and took a step back, clearing his throat. “Shit, uh... My bad.”

You chuckled nervously. “It’s fine, I appreciate the help.” You leaned down to preheat the oven.

“Yeah… Anytime.”

A while after, the two of you were presented with perfect, pink tinted macarons. You smile proudly, hands on your hips as you admire the final product in front of you. “Man, we really nailed those, huh?”

Carmen smiles, a little sleepily. It was starting to get dark outside and he hadn’t even had dinner yet, but he felt bad about having to interrupt your baking session. Usually when he was in the kitchen he was focused, collected, he was making a product that he had to be proud of. But he’d been open to you, he’d laughed, he almost felt… Relaxed. Maybe that’s why he was feeling sleepy.

That, or the insane lack of sleep was catching up to him once more.

You looked outside and noticed that the sun was going down. “Shit, how long have we been here?” You checked the time on your phone. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, I had no idea it already got this late... Uh, if you want I’ll drive you home?”

“Yeah, that would be--” His sentence got cut off by the sound of his stomach growling loudly. The two of you stayed quiet for a moment as Carmen put a hand over his abdomen, clearing his throat, a little embarrassed. “Sorry, I uh... I haven’t eaten anything today besides those desserts earlier.”

Now you really felt guilty. Not only had you kept him at the café for way longer than you should have, but you were nearly making the poor guy starve. “Tell ya what,” You handed him his jacket and took off your apron. “How ‘bout you come back to my apartment and I’ll make us both dinner. I’m no expert chef like you, but I can cook a mean pasta!”

He hesitated for a moment. He hadn’t been to someone else’s apartment in so long, let alone someone he was interested in. But he supposed it was better than being alone in his apartment again, probably heating up a shitty frozen meal because he was too tired to cook.

Your apartment was nice. Well, nicer than his at least, although that probably didn’t mean much. For only having lived there for three months, he could tell you’d really added your own touch to the place.

“Welcome to mi casa!” You playfully bowed, allowing him to enter and closing the door behind you two. You tossed your keys onto the counter and took off your coat, ready to get to cooking. “You can settle on the couch, put something on, I got Netflix if you want. I’ll have dinner made in just a sec!”

Carmen moved with caution. This was... Unknown territory. He knew you were probably just being friendly, but this was a pretty big step for him. He had his boundaries, his walls firmly set, and you were jumping over them like it was nothing. It was just... Easier with you, somehow. To open up, to talk.

Not long after he’d chosen something to watch, you arrived with two deep plates of pesto pasta with mozzarella and diced tomatoes. “There we go, I always make this when I don’t feel like cooking.” You handed him a plate and a fork, before settling down next to him. Your couch wasn’t that big, so your shoulders were touching the entire time.

The two of you were watching a cooking competition, something you didn’t realize would revitalize Carmen so much. Not because he liked it so much, but because he was so focused on the mistakes the contestants were making, and felt the need to point every single one of them out to you. Your two plates stood empty on the coffee table, along with a bottle of red wine and two, very empty glasses.

“Now, see this,” he pointed at the TV, “can’t believe they’re even allowed to air this, this is a disgrace to cooking. The fuckin’ idiot hasn’t touched a single spice this entire episode!”

The both of you were both kind of tipsy, and you were leaning against him now, smiling to yourself as you tried to withhold laughter from every serious comment he made.

“And now--” He looked at you and realized you were hanging on for dear life not to break out in giggles. “What’s so funny?” He asked with a grin.

“N-Nothing, nothing!” You chuckled, leaning away from him so he wouldn’t see your expression.

“Ah, so now we’re shy!” He poked your side, the wine doing wonders for his confidence. “Come on, let’s hear those laughs then!” He continued poking you, and you couldn’t take it anymore, the ticklish sensation making you squirm. You grabbed his arm and pulled it away from your abdomen, making him fall forward onto the couch. He caught himself, hand resting on the armrest, now leaning over you.

You looked up at him, and god, maybe it was the alcohol speaking, but you swore he’d never looked hotter. Leaned over you, curls framing his face, strong arms surrounding you. His gorgeous blue eyes staring down into yours, tension growing between the two of you.

So you couldn’t help yourself.

You leaned up, capturing his lips in yours, a hand coming up to rest on the back of his head to pull him in further.

He froze, eyes only fluttering shut after a few seconds, melting into the kiss as his hand came down to rest on your waist. His mind ran blank, nothing plaguing his mind anymore, all besides one thought;

“Damn. She tastes even sweeter than those strawberries.”

tag list <3

@beebslebobs @thatone-brightstar @spr3id @deadandstill

#aster writes the bear #carmenmath #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto the bear #the bear #the bear fic #the bear imagine #jeremy allen white #jeremy allen white imagine

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isa-ghost · 2 months

Note

Hey, do you have any Phil & Charlie hcs or perhaps Phil & Foolish?

I'm having such a struggle picking which fucking one to do bc on one hand Foolish probably has more material to work with but on the other I've seen Phil and Charlie interact so much (but like outside of qsmp) that I'd have a way better idea of their dynamic. Charlie Slimecicle log on qsmp more often you talented fuck.

Anyway we're gonna attempt some Phil/Foolish ones. I think they're called Immortals or some shit?? Idr.

qPhil headcanons masterlist

Phil had no fucking clue what Foolish's deal was prior to being paired with him on Bolas. He knew he was a goofy happy-go-lucky and talented guy that?? Maybe had allegiances with the Feds?? Hard to tell?? He thought it was a bit tbh. But Purgatory opened Phil's eyes up and he learned that yeah, he's kinda right to a degree. But there are still layers to Foolish despite how Just Vibing he is.

And holy shit can he TELL Foolish has the capacity to be terrifying. You're telling me an immortal shark-totem hybrid doesn't have the ability to kill a motherfucker violently??? NAH. Phil can tell if enough of the right buttons are pushed, Foolish would snap and tear a bitch to shreds. Likely for Leo.

Phil's not entirely sure he can trust Foolish bc he's so unclear about where his loyalties lie, but Phil CAN tell that Foolish keeps it that way for a reason, and Phil thinks it's smart. Despite not entirely trusting him, he believes Foolish wouldn't like. Sell out his friends for a corn chip, yknow?

Now when you take all the serious out of these two though, THEN it gets interesting. Foolish is one of the islanders that has the easiest time getting Phil to let loose. It's just contagious, Foolish is too silly.

At the same time Phil looks at him and is just like ???? How the fuck does he smile through the horrors like that ???? Like clearly he's aware Situations suck and he's anxious like anyone else so how does he have the willpower to be silly and chill???? Phil envies it. He's too full of anxiety. Survivalist's curse.

Foolish's laugh is pure serotonin to Phil. And kryptonite, Foolish's laugh makes Phil laugh. He can't help it. Motherfucker sounds like a window washer squeegee thing when he's dying.

They have 2 very different flavors of immortality to me and while I don't know how a conversation about it would go bc Foolish is so casual and Phil is so? Not secretive but like. Not nonchalant about it? There's still something there that the ccs should cook on. I'm begging them to, in fact.

Also something about how one of them has deep ties to the air and the other technically has deep ties to the sea. Something about that. Especially when used in like, a serious situation. Like spying on the Federation or some shit. Do you see my vision. Using their inborn abilities to their advantage while in collaboration with each other for the sake of them and their friends. Do you see it.

Phil: Gifting shed feathers to trusted loved ones 🤝🏻 Foolish: Gifting lost shark teeth to trusted loved ones

I don't headcanon Phil as a short king like the entire rest of the fandom apparently does but obviously Foolish is fucking enormous compared to 99% of people, Phil included. If Phil could fly he'd spitefully hover just a little higher than Foolish's full height just to mess with him.

FUCKING. TALENTED BIG BUILDS DUO. SHAKING THEM BY THE SHOULDERS WHEN WILL THEY COLLAB. (The kids beg for this often)

Foolish has no idea if he's some kinda deity or if he's just immortal with some kinda weird totem roots and it drives Phil insane bc the hardcore deities have such a different energy than him yet you're telling him (maybe) both are divinity??

Speaking of the hardcore deities, Phil desperately wants to introduce Foolish to the Ocean Overlord bc they're (maybe) both himbo gods with some sort of tie to the ocean that are just vibing their asses off. (Oh my god wait I'm cooking on that idea. Doozers let's cook together on this).

Phil is jealous that Foolish can still swim, the thing he's deeply connected to (esp with those cosmetic fins he has) but he can't fly, the thing he's deeply connected to. But really it's just that Foolish is lucky bc the Federation would have to horrifically butcher him more or less in order to take away his ability to swim properly. Phil's easier to forcibly contain.

Believe it or not, if a situation arose where it was necessary, Phil would pick Foolish for his team (again) in a heartbeat. He may not be as passionate about fighting as Etoiles, or as ruthless as Fit, but hes powerful nonetheless, a trusted friend, has been in that situation with Phil before, and is a beacon of positivity; excellent for morale. Silly disposition and weird alliances aside, Foolish is an invaluable addition to a team from an objective perspective.

#qsmp #qsmp philza #philza #q!philza #qsmp foolish #foolish gamers #q!foolish #qphil headcanons

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16ciggy · 4 months

Text

types of piercings the jjk characters would get (wlw included, some sex scenes a lil, i kinda got carried away and wrote an entire story for sukuna bc i love him.... mb guys)

reader is in love with piercings btw

[ NOBARA , YUJI , MEGUMI , GOJO , TOJI , GETO AND SUKUNA INCLUDED ]

SATORU GOJO

i think bro wouldn't really wanna 'mess' up anything much and would go for normal ear piercings (if he wanted it) and that's that. "piercings? on my face or body elsewhere??? why would i do that?" he'd say, his face turning sour when being asked if he would pierce his face or body in any way. he doesn't want some metal pierce through his body or face at all, he'd definitely feel grossed out too by knowing something is within his skin and staying in there FOREVER. you both had a conversation about how gojo might enhance his appearance if he were to get piercings and he immediately said 'no'. buuuuttttt that doesn't mean he disregards your passion and love for piercings either, he has come by your shop to watch you pierce your clients or discuss with them on the desired piercings your clients wants. some of them even ended up becoming your friends too–gojo is in awe when he sees on how much of a social butterfly you are, he's proud of your work and he is in love with the way you do things with piercings too. he always asks on how were the piercings that you've done for your clients and you'd always give a full on detail on how it went, sometimes he can't even believe his own ears on what types of piercings you did—let alone, them even existing...

TOJI

hmmmmmm.... eyebrows piercing for SURE. i can imagine it,, he would even like it too. he'd grin at himself as he admire his piercing through those eyebrows of his. he'd probably have a king's crown piercing too (a ring pierced through the head of the dick) and he'll talk so much of it, but why? he just wants to add some extra feeling for you when he fucks you down on that ol'rotting couch of his—you could feel it too and it felt a bit weird at first to experience your boyfriend's ring inside of you but you gradually got over it and agreed that it helped to spice up the sex.

SUGURU GETO

he never really thought too much of having piercings but he wouldn't mind more. one day he decided to get a tongue piercing to reduce the taste of the cursed spirits he swallows because he couldn't falter the taste of them, the tongue piercing did help somewhat but he was also afraid that he might end up swallowing the piercing too—but you reassure him that nothing bad will happen, he smiles and kisses you, "god, your lips are the best to taste after every cursed spirit."

NOBARA

either snake or spider bites tbh (two rings either pierced by the side or opposites by each other on the lips) she says that it makes her look cool and she HATES IT whenever men are like "no one is gonna want you with those piercings.. it makes you less ladylike.", she HATESSSS IT. because, shes's doing it for YOU because you liked them. even though she seems like a heartless jerk, she loves like a golden retriever. you can't count how many times she has done these cute things like building a house for you in minecraft or buying your favourite desserts when you're on your period. "baby, im going for a mission, i'll be back later. love you, my angel." she kisses your forehead so gently before walking out the door and only for her lip piercings to be returned back to you. you were never given a reason on what happened, not even one ounce of word spoken by these random group of sorcerers. one shibuya night turned into a nightmare and you never saw your girlfriend ever again.

YUJI ITADORI

he'd have his tooth pierced with your initial on it and he lets everyone know it by flashing a big smile almost all the time. you warn him of smile lines and he'd simply just grin at you and laugh, "at least these smile lines were mostly by you!", you ruffle his hair as he laid his head on your shoulders before pulling your waist in closer to his body. he was never a big fan of piercings either—until he met you, an individual whom was fond of piercings and he decided to just have your initial pierced right on his tooth; his strongest appearance happens to be his smile too.

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

ooooohh..... hot take.. but he'd definitely be a quiet punk when hes not a sorcerer in the day time. he has nipple piercings, ear piercings, eyebrow, lips—you name em. there's no specifics too because he has a LOT of them. he defo paints his nails black too. when you both bumped into eachother in shibuya at night you did not expect to see gojo's son just having those amount of piercings and even hid it perfectly WELL. your hormones were suddenly RAGING when you saw him, you just had to fuck him so badly otherwise you'd go feral. megumi didn't mind tho because he kinda had a major big crush on you and he wasn't worried about his dick but thats when you got even surprised. because.... well... he got piercings on them too, he really did follow his biological dad. "aw, you scared im gonna eat you or sum'thing? cute." he smirks, getting closer to you and your heart racing even more when his cock is just getting nearer to your face—next thing you know, you were getting choked on it with the metal piercings just gauging down your throat as it hit every walls within it. "fuck— never knew you could suck dick—" he grunts, trying to hold in his moans with his hands clutching on to his mouth for dear's life.

SUKUNA RYOMEN

ear piercings + septum piercing. his face is already scary enough and with that nose piercing already adds in a whole'nother fear when people glances or even looks in his direction. "tsk. it's just a nose piercing, why does every human gotta act like a brat?" he sighs. heavily. he's deeply annoyed in how everyone is afraid of him, he's trying to be a bit nicer now because of you. but that isn't anyone's fault to be afraid of the king of curses either. he sits up from his throne and walks down the flight of stairs to look for you. when he spots you cleaning the hallway with a half assed broken broom, he walks towards you quietly and calls out your name loudly which scared you, "(Y/N). My room, now.", you nodded quickly and thought he just needed to relieve himself. when you arrived into his room, you locked the door behind you and got to undressin— "stop that. that's not what i asked you to come here for." he states, clearing out his throat while he prepared what to say next, "Am I terrifying?" he asks. you just stared at him and the corner of your lips started to curl into a smile, then slowly a giggle. "is this why you asked me to come? yes, you are terrifying." you smiled and he grumbled in annoyance. "then??? how am i suppose to become 'gentle'?!" he roars, jolting up from the edge of the bed, "gentle? why do you want to be gentle?" you asked confusingly, staring into his dull eyes until it clicked. you told him a few weeks ago you were into men who were gentle and not rough, was this why his sex style changed too? this is the man who pounded your back everyday of the week until you were crying from pleasure, now he's kissing your neck and gently holding your thighs up as he's thrusting into your pussy until you're soaking wet when you are getting fucked lately. "it's because on what you told me!" he cocks his head in annoyance, his feet slapping the floor constantly while his arms were crossed. you laughed non stop until he felt embarrassed, you touched his arm and he quickly jerked away from it. "don't be like that, you can still look scary but be gentle, my love—", you wheezed, trying to get a hold of your breathing but you just.. couldn't. this shit was too funny. "people looks at me differently with the septum piercing. do i look more scarier with it??" he asks, he looks so serious—you can't- no way, no way in hell he is acting like a kid over what you said. you comforted him in the end after you stopped laughing but he was still mad at your reaction.

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heartandfangs · 2 years

Text

I OWE YOU— PART FIVE.

GENRE Roommates AU, Playboy!Jake, Virgin!Reader, BestFriend!Heeseung, Heavy Smut, Slight Angst, Fluff (if you squint)

PAIRING f!Reader x Jake/Jayeun, f!Reader x Heeseung

WARNINGS 18+ ONLY, Cursing, Possessiveness, Manipulation, LOTS of jealousy, Implied one-sided feelings, Unresolved feelings, Trash talking, Alcohol, Flirting, Slight slow-burn, Morally-grey characters, Sexual inexperience, Sexual tension, Anxiety, Making out, Teasing, Finger sucking, Grinding, Breast worship, Brief rimming (very brief), Fingering, f!Receiving Oral sex, m!Receiving Oral sex, SoftDom!Heeseung, Sub!Reader

WORD COUNT +13k

SUMMARY In which you realize that your playboy roommate and your best friend share one common thread: their uninhibited desire for you. With Jake giving you the cold shoulder, you choose to indulge the latter this time around… consequences be damned.

AUTHOR'S NOTE Even if you're not caught up with the series, if you love Hee, you'd enjoy this part alone. 🫠 It came out a lot more romantic than I intended, but Heeseung's character just brought it out of me and it's not even in his own series– that's how badly he's been coming for me! 💗 But tbh it was a long time coming and set up in part 3, so letting soft dom Heeseung have his reign here. I added extra smut for you all which is why it took a week more than I said it would to post, but I think it was worth it. Fucking enjoy 🫶 I'm officially deceased, you’ll find me in my coffin ⚰️ (See end of work for cont. A/N)

YOU WISH, Part I, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Masterlist

TAGLIST @skzenhalove, @axartia, @stbwe, @duolingofanaccount, @writingmochi, @thejjrl@fan-zhan, @kazuhugs, @sweetnightleeheeseung, @rpkth, @btskpop17, @markleeisdabestdrug

It perturbed you how much your body yearned to be near Jake Sim.

Seemingly, Jake shared the same sentiment, despite having vied for your attention one day and then ignored you entirely the next, right after you rejected his kiss during your last encounter. It must've been the tipping point after you cruelly renounced your heated first kiss with him, chalking it up to anything but feelings despite you initiating it.

However, you were nearly beginning to wonder if you called it too soon; his feelings for you, that is. Not to say that you were in love with him; you knew better than that. But after much thought and a healthy amount of denial on your end, you were beginning to realize Jake had fallen for you in a twisted sense.

It was a challenging notion to wrap your head around. If he had, at what point had Jake fallen and why?

After all, that wasn't what Jake was about.

Your rejection of his romantic advances drew such a strong reaction from him, though, like the man wasn't sure what to do with himself. As if it was his first time dealing with such feelings, but he had to have gotten his heart broken at least once, right?

Although, it really seemed like Jake was infatuated rather than in love– because you were the sole one he'd yet to get his hands on from the start.

So, the dissonance in his behavior made sense after what had transpired between you two in that short time frame. Callousness was a reaction you hadn't anticipated coming from Jake– and you would never admit out loud that it hurt.

The ghost of Jake's touches lingered on every inch of your skin and had you rutting into your pillow late at night when the vivid memories of him persisted. A consequence of your carelessness, even though you knew what you were getting yourself into.

Jake had shown you facets of himself you hadn't even known existed beyond his mischievous persona and capricious way of living. He'd push your boundaries in ways that irked you but also expanded your little world. It was such an intriguing dynamic, one you could imagine yourself exploring further with him… perhaps without strings attached.

You never thought you'd come to consider such a thing, especially after how cold you've been with Jake and how precious things like first kisses once were to you.

Although Jake never verbally expressed it, he clearly thought otherwise and seemed to want you romantically. He was growing attached to you in ways he hadn't shown to have been in the past.

One kiss– and suddenly yours and his intentions swapped. How was that even remotely possible for him, let alone for you?

Two weeks had gone by begrudgingly slowly and each day was like a hellish repeat of the day prior, consisting of an unbearable tension you hadn't known was possible to exist between two people.

Jake would either rise earlier in the day or stay in later than you just to avoid contact. If either of you did happen to pass by each other in the common areas of the flat, no words were exchanged, and god forbid you made eye contact.

It was a good thing life had many distractions.

Being a working member of society meant that you were more than eager to get out of the four walls of your bedroom after being at your desk all week. Saturday evening arrived like the answer to your prayers, and since you didn't go out much, you intended to have as much fun as you could within your means.

A notification sounded from your phone, informing you that the Uber you were currently in was approaching one of your favorite speakeasies. The sound pulled you out of your thoughts, the blur of buildings starting to look familiar.

By recent habit, you tapped on your photo album to indulge the source of your guilt and irritation. Turns out when Jake stole your phone those couple weeks ago, he filled your gallery with ridiculous selfies— several blurry, taken at hilarious angles, and others, obnoxiously flirtatious, as if he intended to get a rise out of you.

He was shirtless in all of them, which only made your nerves hum, and your palms sweaty.

One photo in particular always made you feel hazy– Jake had fallen over your sheets, sweatpants hung low on his hips, and a veined hand wrapped around his neck like a choker, his demure, heavy eyes telling of his arousal for you.

Fantastic— As if you needed a fucking souvenir photo for that day.

In frustration, you slammed your head back on the headrest, drawing a concerned look from your Uber driver in the mirror. The car had come to a momentary stop in a free parking space.

"Sorry," you quickly apologized and hurried out of the car onto the busy streets of downtown.

A red neon sign that read Deities & Denizens glowed several feet above you, indicating that you were at your stop. You glanced at your reflection in a tinted window and smoothed your fingers over the soft velvet fabric of your dress, ending at the tops of your thighs.

The black dress dipped sharply to reveal the skin of your decollete, the panels wrapped and tied to the side of your waist. Its long fitted sleeves would keep you warm, as would your trusty thigh-high, suede boots you'd chosen for the night.

Thin, woven strands of leather kept them tied behind your thighs, and at the end of each dangled a silver horned charm. The heel gave you a couple of inches of height without compromising comfort, along with the false hope that you might have a chance at appearing less like a child next to Heeseung.

You pocketed your phone into your dress and ran your fingers over the simple diamond choker resting at the base of your neck; it was a lovely gift from your mother, who you hadn't seen in a long time, and you've only worn it out on occasion.

A gust of wind from the cars driving by swept your hair, and the bustling street activity along with the chatter of people caused a thought to intrude on your mind.

What if I had taken Jake instead?

With a frustrated huff, you dropped your arms to your sides and yanked open the door to the venue.

Why would I even think such a thing? I'm here to spend time with–

"Hey."

To your left stood the man of the hour with his arms crossed over his chest.

Immediately your face brightened upon seeing Heeseung, who gave you a small smile in return.

"What are you doing over there brooding against the wall for?"

"Waiting for you, of course," Heeseung replied.

Well, you set yourself up for that one.

"Yeah, I know– Sorry I'm a bit late."

Although Heeseung was as much of a wallflower as you were, his exquisite fashion sense consistently garnered attention from anyone in close vicinity. Dressed head to toe in black with a sleek leather coat and dress boots, he must've been drawing glances from strangers since he arrived, even appearing slightly intimidating to you despite knowing him.

Heeseung pushed off the wall and made his way towards you. He easily pulled you into his arms as you rose to the tips of your toes, barely able to thread your arms around his neck in a warm embrace without his help.

Immediately, you appreciated the proximity; after all, it was the first physical human contact you've had in weeks. Almost wanting to just fall limp against Heeseung, you opted to rest your cheek against his shoulder and take in the scent of his cologne. He smelled of warm musk, and subtle spice layered over crisp apples, reminding you of a crackling fireplace amid the cold woods.

Heeseung felt you relax against him and rubbed comforting circles against your back in response.

"You looked a little distressed there; something happen along the way here?"

Coming to your senses, you slipped your arms from his shoulders, but his hands settled on your hips, keeping you close. It startled you slightly, being able to feel the outline of his natural bulge press against you.

Breath catching, you replied, "...No. It was just a weird Uber drive. You know how those can sometimes be."

"Next time, let's just meet at your place, and we'll go from there together," he looked into your eyes, and you thought you imagined his thumb slowly dragging over the curve of your hip.

Gosh, Heeseung feels different.

"You're sweet," Taking his hand, you tugged him along to the back of the restaurant, "Next time."

His skin was warm to the touch, and you willed your palms from getting sweaty.

Heeseung leaned down, his warm breath tickling your ear, "You look beautiful tonight."

Even amongst all the noise, his gentle voice managed to send shivers across your skin.

"It's nice pretending to be a participating member of society once in a while," You smirked up at him, fighting the urge to shy away.

"It is nice, sometimes,” he agreed.

As you weaved between groups of people and servers alike, the aroma of the food spread on each table made your stomach growl.

"This place is pretty cool; the vibe reminds me of the 1920s," He looked over his shoulder, eyeing the busy old-fashioned bar drenched in warm lights, "Is this not where we're sitting?"

"Remember, it's a speakeasy– which means the bar we're going to is hidden further in," You turned around and stood in front of him as he came to a halt, "And you have to find it."

The both of you found yourselves in the middle of a dim hallway, luxurious glass cases filled with massive blocks of ice on trays to your left, rows of large steel kegs lining the furthest back wall behind you, and a mysterious door on your right.

An amused smile tugged at Heeseung's lips as he brushed by you and reached for the gold door knob, the most obvious choice.

He peered into it curiously before shutting the door, "That is a fancy bathroom."

You chuckled, stepping aside to watch him further explore the space while taking in… well, him.

Somehow Heeseung had grown since you last saw him in person; his shoulders had broadened, filling out his leather coat, and the slight angle of his jaw was more mature. A stranger probably wouldn't have guessed he'd move with such grace across the stage with his long limbs, but you knew how exceptional of a performer he was.

Everything from his subtly styled hair to the steel toe of his boots was impeccable; Heeseung naturally exuded an intriguing aura that people picked up on even when he wasn't on stage. Perhaps it came with the familiarity of being in the spotlight. You've never been the sort to care to perform in front of others, and with Heeseung, you've never had to.

Heeseung curiously ran his hand over the wall of steel kegs and shot you a questioning look.

"You're hot," you hinted.

"Am I?"

You rolled your eyes as Heeseung held his hand out to you with a glimmer in his eye, "Come on."

Without a second thought, you took his hand in yours.

Jake wove his palm over a flickering candle, hunched over his chosen glass of amber poison. Its heat stung, but only when he stayed put for too long.

It was no different with his sexual encounters.

He was reminded of how candlelight spilled over your serene expression in the bath and the mess of feelings that overcame him after your last tryst weeks ago. How he left you on your knees in that tub after everything— after he used you.

A pang of guilt throbbed in his chest, so he swallowed a mouthful of his drink, enduring the burn down his throat.

"So, handsome. What are you headed after this, my place or yours?" A perfectly manicured finger reached out to trace the back of his hand, and he instinctively retracted it.

… Instinctively?

"I don't have any plans, and I'll likely be keeping it that way for the rest of the night."

The woman huffed and shot an irritated look at him, then glared across the table at Jake's more relaxed companion.

Jake glanced over at Sunghoon, who had an arm draped around another random woman that suddenly appeared at their table about twenty minutes prior, already sipping on her third martini.

As the woman at Jake's side downed her drink, Sunghoon shrugged at his friend’s prickly demeanor. "Really, Jake? Hey Jay, can we get another—"

Said bartender quickly approached their table from the bar and directed a threat to the man under his breath, "I will personally slip cyanide into your drink if you order another Zombie, Sunghoon."

"It's for Jake; look at him. The poor guy needs to get fucked up a bit," Sunghoon insisted, brushing his fingers through his bleached locks, "And then maybe he'll tell us what the hell has been going on."

Jay gave the younger man a good look, taking in Jake’s unusual stony expression before nodding and rolling up his sleeves, "…Fine."

Just as Jay turned back to the bar, he paused in his tracks.

Sunghoon followed the bartender's line of sight to a young woman dressed in black, never mind the man next to her.

"Is she a regular?" He asked Jay.

Jake didn't bother to turn around or listen in to the ongoing conversation, fully caught up in his vehement thoughts about you.

Jay's attention snapped back to the task at hand, and he began pouring a couple of glasses of water behind the bar. "Even if she wasn't– don't even think about it."

"Why, you got dibs?" Sunghoon probed.

"No. She's just never come off as the type that'd give you a chance– Plus, she's brought company, for once."

Jay approached Sunghoon's short-term object of interest for the night, who was admittedly his favorite regular and her plus one, who Jay– if he were being honest with himself– was a bit envious of.

Heeseung's expression upon entering the speakeasy was absolutely priceless. His mouth fell agape upon noticing the long wall lined with rows upon rows of skulls to the left where you both stood. The walls reached the incredibly high ceiling, decorated with obscure framed paintings and portraits of people staring down at the unsuspecting diners.

On his right, several deep, inverted shelves that were tucked into the walls displayed an impressive stock of spirits and booze for the clientele's ailments. People occupied each booth and table, yet it wasn't nearly as noisy as the restaurant outside.

The room was bathed in warm, dim lighting from the individual tea lights scattered along the tables and the grand candle-lit chandelier hanging at the center of it all.

"It's like something out of Disneyland, isn't it?" You said.

"Feels like a cross between Pirates of the Caribbean and Haunted Mansion," He agreed, "It's right up your alley."

"Exactly," you smiled, tugging him to your reserved seats at the closest end of the bar.

On queue, a familiar face approached you.

"Hi, Jay."

"___," He greeted, replacing the reservation plaque on the marble counter with two glasses of water, "It's been a while, and you've brought company this time."

"I have! Meet my best friend, Heeseung."

"Hello, best friend," Jay nodded at Heeseung, who returned the gesture.

"Hello."

That drew a chuckle from you just as Jay brandished a menu with a flourish and slid it across the counter, "Let me know when you're ready, love."

"I will," you said shyly, unable to help yourself when interacting with the bold bartender.

Heeseung rapped his knuckles against the marble counter while looking after Jay as he walked off. He observed you closely as you studied the small, gold foiled menu.

You slid a hand over your stomach as it growled, "I swear, I'm about to order one of everything."

"The menu's not that big," Heeseung propped his chin up on his palm, "Why don't we?"

"Really?" You grinned, "You gonna help me finish it all?"

"Don't I always?"

"Yeah, yeah– keep thinking you put it away better than me," You drawled, finger running down the list of specialty cocktails to choose from, "What are you thinking drinks-wise?"

"Since you know what's good here, why don't you choose for me?"

"Aw, you trust me to get you something nice and sweet for your baby taste buds?"

Heeseung pouted, "I don't have baby taste buds."

"Yes, you do, Mister I'd like extra, extra sugar in my milk tea, please."

Heeseung gently nudged you sulkily, and you mischievously made a big show of nearly slipping off your stool. Just as he caught you, your hand shot out to grip his arm and steady yourself, a bit surprised to feel his muscles flex under his jacket.

"Geez! I almost fell on my ass."

He pulled you back onto your seat with ease, "You did not—"

"Ready for some drinks?" Jay suddenly reappeared after seeing your arms flail from across the room.

You straightened up, a smile plastered over your face. "Oh, yes. He'll have the Love Note, I'll have the Fallen Angel, and we'll get one of everything off the shareables."

Off to your side, Heeseung looked curious at the names of the cocktails you rattled off.

"I'll put those in for you…"

You thanked Jay, but it appeared he wasn't finished speaking with you.

"… So, I received an anonymous request. This shot is from the hottest guys in the room," Jay sighed loudly, holding a glass filled with a creamy citrine liquid, "And they want you to go figure out who it is."

You stared at Jay, and he visibly cringed. "Hint: it's not me."

Heeseung gave Jay a tight-lipped smile, clearly not amused.

"I completely understand if you don't want to tip me." The bartender set the single shot glass down in front of you and quickly turned on his heel to tend to other guests.

"What the hell?" Too curious for your own good, you scanned the dark room over your shoulder.

It was only a matter of seconds before you met the sharp gaze of a handsome young man with silver hair who sat on the opposite end of the room. A woman accompanied him, and another man with his back turned to you.

The man facing you whispered something to his companion before sending an enticing wink your way. The girl at his side sent you a nasty look at the attention you were receiving, causing you to avert your eyes.

Unsettled and feeling a heat work up your neck, you were glad Heeseung couldn't see your face.

Then his dark haired companion turned your way, appearing somewhat lethargic until his sights settled on you. The same mixture of disbelief spread across both your faces.

Jake.

Heeseung paused. "Isn't that your roommate?"

"Yes," Your stool creaked as you turned back to the counter and stared down at the shot. It smelled sugary and citrusy; Heeseung would probably like it. "Yes, and I have no clue what's going on right now."

Jake's appearance at one of your favorite bars had to be coincidental. It wasn't his idea to send a shot over and get your attention, right? Did his friends even know what you looked like? He's never had them over except girls, and you've never taken any photos together, but it's possible Jake spilled everything to them…

Shit. Did he actually? You hadn't even told Heeseung yet, but you hadn't exactly been planning on it.

Heeseung blinked at you in silence before his eyes narrowed in on your roommate. The last time they'd seen each other was through your laptop's screen, and Jake had been all up in your space if he remembered correctly.

Clearly, something had gone down between the two of you.

Jake couldn't take his eyes off you, even as you tried to duck your head out of sight… until he felt Heeseung's scrutinizing stare.

If looks could kill.

"Shall we people watch for old times sake? I'm sure it'll make them uncomfortable if they see us whispering to each other while staring at them," Heeseung suggested.

You couldn't help but laugh out loud despite your nerves.

In college, there had been countless nights you'd spent together in boba cafes while people-watching and whispering made-up stories of strangers' lives for fun.

Perhaps it was a bit juvenile and silly of you two, but the stories you two spun had you doubled over in laughter by the end of the night. The two of you always did it on the down-low, but Heeseung must've been feeling a little bolder today.

"…What do you think about the guy with my roommate?" You asked distractedly, preferring to speculate about Jake's friend rather than himself.

Heeseung spun your stool back around, so you both faced the suspected try-hards of the night. When his hand rested on the small of your back, you straightened up in your chair.

"He's likely a player if the guy's hanging around your roommate. Probably still in college and wants to hang with the big boys. I wouldn't be surprised if he pulled that stunt with the shot— tacky birds of a feather flock together."

"Damn, you're not pulling any punches tonight, are you?"

"I don't feel inclined to these days… it's an easy read."

Sunghoon's expression slowly shifted into a frown as he convened with Jake, who'd quickly turned his back on you.

You snickered, "I'd agree with you. The silver-haired kid probably secretly has a mommy kink."

Heeseung choked on his water, sending you into a fit of giggles only feeling a bit apologetic. He quickly recovered himself, shaking his head at you in disbelief.

"Sure you didn't pregame before meeting me here?"

"Hey, I'm here to have all the fun with you tonight!" You said.

"Right… So, what’s in our drinks?"

You shot him a sly look at how quickly he changed the subject but decided to go along with the flow.

“Love Note’s got vodka, gin & crème de violette. It's like a cloudy purple and looks a bit mysterious, but it's partly fizzy and tastes like candy. Even the presentation reminds me of you; you'll see when it comes," Heeseung found himself bashfully glancing down at his lap as you continued, "Fallen Angel supposedly has crème de menthe with gin & sugar in it. Not sure how that combination is with lime, but I thought, why not give it a try? Sometimes the names of drinks are enough to get me to taste it."

"Is menthe essentially mint? Kind of sounds like a toothpaste cocktail—"

"Don't even start," you warned, pressing a finger into his chest.

Heeseung chuckled and you pursed your lips, the two of you sitting back to observe your surroundings again in comfortable silence.

To your annoyance, your eyes kept wandering back to Jake; you had to force yourself from staring at his back, feeling the weight of his unexpected presence on your shoulders.

Giving Heeseung your full attention was challenging when so many things were pressing on your mind. Part of you wanted to leave after seeing Jake, but you didn't want to ruin your night with your best friend.

And even though you didn't owe Jake anything, you also felt the pressure to say something after weeks of silence, but you weren't sure what, and this certainly wasn't the place to do so.

Suddenly, the tips of Heeseung's fingers began tracing lazy shapes across your back as if he knew you'd drifted away in your thoughts. His touch sent tingles sparking across your skin, causing you to press your thighs together.

Oh gosh, what was he doing?

You felt Heeseung staring at you with a knowing look, and in a panic, you quickly reached for the forgotten shot on the counter before giving it a quick taste.

"Lemon drop. Try it," You tipped the glass towards him.

Heeseung's long fingers curled around yours as he took the glass and knocked it back.

While Heeseung ran his tongue over his lips in consideration, you hadn't realized you were licking at your own, mirroring him. "Tastes like sour candy and vodka. I would've gotten you something different."

"Like what?"

"Just champagne, and lots of it," He said simply, setting down the empty glass.

"Quit making me out to be a drunk," you bumped his knee with yours and gave him an accusing look that had him beaming.

A chic string of notes filled your ears and drew your attention to the corner of the room; a live band had shuffled in and begun playing a sultry-sounding number that was a bit on the R&B side. Heeseung's hand dragged across your spine, causing you to squirm.

"___. Want to dance?"

You hunched your shoulders, at the thought. "Heeseung, you know I'm no good at dancing. I haven't had enough to drink yet to get into it. I really can't–"

"Dance with me," he whispered lowly.

The cocky look he gave you said you had no chance of skipping out this time. That this would be very different from the times you'd stubbornly stay on the sidelines whenever he found himself in the middle of a dance floor at the occasional family party you dragged him to.

Without a crowd to hide in, this just might be the first time in a while that Heeseung would push you out of your comfort zone. Whatever happened to the boy who let you have your way?

He threw his coat onto his seat and was already gently pulling you forward. With stiff limbs, you stumbled over to the small dance floor while hiding your face by staring at the tips of his leather shoes.

Suddenly, you felt his warm hand brush the sides of your cheek as he delicately tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, the slightest frown pulling at his features.

"What?"

Honestly, Heeseung didn't like seeing you like this, believing that you deserve the spotlight with how beautiful you looked… And perhaps for a more selfish reason.

His gaze turned chilly as he spotted your obnoxious roommate, keenly aware of his nuisance of a friend that sent you a shot, even picking out the slick-haired bartender who seemed to have garnered your warmth.

Heeseung turned back to you, releasing a deep breath that you didn't think much of, "I was just thinking about how popular someone is these days."

You merely scoffed, “Never.”

"Why not?" He challenged.

You gave him a look as though the answer were obvious, "I'm me."

Heeseung sighed, and decided to let it go for the time being.

Oblivious girl, he thought.

On the other hand, he found it cute how your hands tried to find somewhere comfortable to rest, frantically running over his arms and shoulders in a fuss.

With a chuckle, he caught your shaky hands before placing one just above his chest and clasping the other with his own.

"Are you trying to tickle me?"

"No, my anxiety is just through the roof right now," you admitted.

"Let's just sway," Heeseung held you by the waist and turned you around; that way, you could only see the band playing over his shoulders rather than the curious crowd, "Easy. You can do that for me, right, love?"

He's teasing me, isn't he?

When you said nothing and merely bit your lip, looking up at him cheerlessly, Heeseung grinned and pulled you tighter against him in reassurance.

"I hate you," You uttered while furrowing your brows at him.

That was far from what he was hoping to hear from you that night.

"... I've missed you."

In the blink of an eye, his expression suddenly turned troubled, and you were taken aback at his seriousness. It was difficult to discern the reason for the affliction in his eyes.

"I've… missed you too."

There was no doubt that he could feel your heart beating wildly through your rib cage while you followed his lead, stepping side to side at a pace that was way too slow for the song. Regardless, Heeseung didn't seem to care about being behind one bit, proud that you were slowly catching onto the rhythm he set for you.

The odd look in his eyes lingered, even as he masked it with a smile and praised you.

"You've got it."

However, he placed too much trust in you when he spun you around in a twirl, your stomach lurching when you felt the heel of your shoe catch on the floor.

You cursed as you rocked backward, trying to brace yourself to meet the hard floor. The room swirled and then went still at the oddest angle in your vision.

To your relief, Heeseung's hands effortlessly supported your back and secured your wrist, suspending you in mid-air. At the angle he held you at, the room appeared upside down, and you found that you couldn't pull yourself up without his help.

"Heeseung–"

"Relax, ___," Heeseung's lips brushed against the pulse of your neck, an unexpected moan slipping past your lips, "I'm not going to let you fall."

Oh fuck…

Blood rushed to your head and downwards— pulse throbbing between your thighs as he finally pulled you right side up, securing you against him. With Heeseung pressed between your legs for the second time that night, you realized you didn't need several drinks to make you feel intoxicated.

Your surroundings were a blur as he led you across the floor, oblivious to Jake's steely eyes searing into you with longing from across the room.

"Heeseung," You repeated, more urgently this time.

The man noticed the shift in your tone and although you tried to sound intimidating, the underlying neediness in your voice nearly set him off.

The two of you stumbled into the back hallway, the live music growing quieter, and the sound of blood rushing through your ears suddenly audible. Heeseung steadied you by the waist as he pressed near, your back quickly hitting a wall as you did your best to quiet your pants.

Deeply affected by the culmination of his touches and whispers against your skin all night, you struggled to get your thoughts in order.

He just–

"What is it, ___?"

Taken aback at his nonchalance, you searched his eyes, almost crumbling under the intensity of his stare. You glanced at your boots, needing a distraction with your heart rate rapidly picking up.

"M-my boot is untied."

Heeseung blinked while you reached down to fix it, but he was much quicker than you.

Lightly dragging his hands down the sides of your body, he dropped to his knee, presenting you with an indulgent view of him at your feet.

Heeseung's nimble fingers grazed the skin of your bare thigh, causing your teeth to tuck against your bottom lip as he adjusted the suede fabric in place. He reached behind your leg and caught the thin leather tassels to tighten in a pretty knot, the horned charm dangling against your calf.

His hands never left your skin, even as his gaze flickered up at you.

You could only stare back, the concept of time arresting for you both. The slightest of Heeseung's touches made your core clench in want, thoughts devolving into a jumbling mess of insistent urges.

He saw it all over your face, but you still tried to suppress it.

"I could've–"

Before you got another word out, Heeseung tenderly pressed his lips to the curve of your thigh, his warm palms sliding over your skin.

Oh.

Your last shred of self-control slipped from your grasp upon feeling arousal drip down your inner thigh, your hands slapping over your mouth in shock. Heeseung pulled back his hand to inspect the wetness, assuming it to be sweat… until realization hit him.

"___," He said darkly.

"Fuck– I'm so sorry–" Wanting more than nothing but to disappear into thin air, you tried to get past him only to be caged in by his arms.

"Where do you think you're going?"

When you clutched at his shoulders, he sought your undivided attention with piercing eyes that you refused to meet.

"I'm sorry, I can't..."

Heeseung's voice softened as he moved his hand to thumb at your lips. "It's okay, baby. You can't what?"

To stay or to leave; your mind and body battled.

This is your best friend.

"I can't keep it together anymore," your voice fell to a hush, but he caught it all.

With a shaky breath, you slid your hands down his chest, feeling his taut muscles underneath his shirt– sensed him shudder with the difference in how you touched him this time.

When your gaze fell to his lips, Heeseung leaned forward until you pulled him against you, not an inch to spare between your bodies.

Once your lips slid together, you noted every detail about how he kissed you, how his tongue tasted bright and sweet as he heavily caressed yours in a way that made your mouth water. The kisses he gave you were deep and coaxing, never quite overpowering but certainly leaving you wanting so much more.

And the way he held you, no differently than the self-assured manner in which he did out on the dance floor, had you wondering why you never entirely gave yourself over to his embrace in the first place.

You hadn't noticed you were pressing your hips against his until he gripped beneath your thighs, hoisting you into his arms. Naturally, your legs wrapped around his waist, hands threading around his neck to run through the soft hair at his nape.

Your eyes fluttered when he quickly rolled his hips into your core, your whiny moans muffled against his mouth. He was already so hard, and you were dripping.

"Oh, you like that."

"Hee—" You pulled away to catch your breath, but Heeseung merely dipped his head to press sweet kisses above the swell of your breasts, running his tongue along your gleaming choker.

"Too much, baby?"

"No, but—" His thumbs rolled over your sensitive nipples through your velvet dress, causing more whimpers to leave your lips. "Mmn, fuck— Why are you doing this for me?"

"I could ask you the same question," he peered up at you and began to kiss along the soft line of your jaw, struck by how you melted into his touch, "Why do you think?"

"Hee, I can barely think right now," you huffed against his neck, mouthing a kiss against his pulse in return, "Back lounge, on my left. Hurry."

Once he set off in the right direction, you should've taken a moment to catch your breath but instead, you laved your tongue over the protruding curve of his throat, teasing over his adam's apple. The heat of your mouth drew a deep moan from him, a sound you’ve never heard, full of something akin to frustration and hunger.

Heeseung threw open the door, barely considering his surroundings as he laid you down onto the nearest ruby red couch, pressing you into the luxurious cushions. His hands left your body only to slam the door shut; then, they were back on your hot skin, roaming, and pleasuring, along with his lips.

The moment Heeseung felt your nails dig into his shoulder blades, he lifted his head from the crook of your neck, voice straining as if he were holding himself back, “Use your words with me, baby. For once, don't leave me guessing what's inside your head."

Oh, you want to tell him you're aching.

That you've been aching inside since your first love left you feeling empty. That although you took back what you wanted from Jake and more, you still felt so unfulfilled for reasons you couldn't place.

Even now, as you realized Heeseung harbored feelings of some kind for you and that you'd been insistently ignoring Jake's odd ways of expressing his own.

I'm moving too fast again, aren't I? There's a pattern here, you thought, as Heeseung captured your lips sweetly with his.

What did this pattern mean, and what did it say about yourself?

"I don't want to lose you," You gripped his shoulders, "If I let you do this, I'll lose you."

"___, you're not going to lose me." Heeseung dragged his lips against yours again, unable to get enough of you.

Something deep inside you knew that wasn't true, not because of your lack of faith in Heeseung, but in yourself. Still, you chose to ignore it.

"You can't just do this," You finally got out in between kisses, "It's not fair."

Heeseung chuckled against your lips, "What isn't fair?"

"The way you've been acting all night, this isn't like you."

"Not like me, huh? That just proves we don't spend enough time with each other nowadays."

When your hand gripped his jaw, Heeseung bit his lip and swallowed a groan. "So, you do this to girls often? Flirt with them all night just to have your way with them?"

"No, I'm not like your roommate, ___."

The mention of Jake made you freeze, and Heeseung took note of it, eyes hardening.

"When I touch you like this," Heeseung dipped his fingers between your thighs, dragging them against your lace-covered pussy, and began to rub circles, "When I kiss you—," he licked into your mouth with a sigh, tasting your sweetness, and was delighted when you granted him more access, "— I mean it."

Momentarily, your eyes squeezed shut at the intensity of it all, your hand twisting into the collar of his shirt.

Heeseung drove his point home when he took your hand and guided it to his lap, breath hitching when you didn't hesitate to palm his hard cock through his pants.

"Only you make me like this," he admitted breathlessly.

You felt him up, kneading your hand firmly along his thick length. "Since when?"

Heeseung shook his head, inching ever closer, his thumb brushing over your flushed cheek. Those half-lidded eyes of his that bore into you had your panties dripping with arousal. "I don't think you would believe me if I told you, ___."

You were genuinely surprised at the suggestion of his words.

"... I don't let just anyone kiss me, you know?"

"I know. I know," Heeseung punctuated with a graze of his lips across your collarbone, "So let me do this for you."

He switched from rubbing circles against your clit to dipping his fingers into your entrance through your panties to collect your wetness. Unhurried, the pads of his fingers spread it along the swollen lips of your pussy.

"You're soaked, baby."

You were fast approaching the point of no return for you two, if not already there.

"T-this is going to change things between us, Heeseung."

He paused. "Do you want that?"

There was nothing to be guaranteed about this exchange except for the inevitable drastic shift in your relationship with Heeseung. And even though he told you that you would never lose him as a friend, you questioned being able to guarantee him the same reassurance. Could the two of you come back from this unchanged?

You weren't sure what you wanted to be to him, and vice-versa. All you knew was that you needed him like this, right here and now.

Why? Why am I like this?

"… I don’t know, I just know I want you." His eyes widened in slight surprise for a split second before they turned roguish, a haze overcoming them.

"Alright then. Either you tell me what you want…" He tapped on your clit playfully, making your hips twitch "… Or you tell me when to stop."

"I don't have anything like a condom and I’m not on a pill," you admitted, knowing Heeseung would understand, "But do whatever else you want to me, Hee. Just promise me you'll make me come hard, please?"

Heeseung nodded, and it drove you nuts when he took his hand off your pussy to toy with the neckline of your dress while he leaned over your chest.

"Oh, I can do that for you and more."

His hands slid under the deep collar of your midnight black dress to reveal your swelling breasts and pert nipples. Heeseung parted his lips as though to take one of your tits into his mouth, but his warm breath only ghosted over your nipples, a smirk slowly pulling at his lips as he watched you pull your hair out.

Now he has the self-control to slow down?

"A-ah, don't tease me, Hee. You've teased me all night."

"You know, I've had that image of you with your pretty set of tits out in your kitchen burned into my memory ever since it happened. Hence, a bit of harmless teasing is only fair," Heeseung kneaded your breasts in his hands before he chose a peak to ripple his warm tongue against.

Inwardly you screamed, never expecting to hear those words come from Heeseung's lips, let alone see them wrapped around your tits. With the way he worked his mouth, you figured you could stay beneath him all night.

"Haah— what have you done with the Heeseung I know and love?" You whined half-heartedly, embarrassed that he brought up that mishap of you dropping your towel in front of him over that damned video call.

"I'm still here," He pressed a light kiss to your chin, "But I'm sure with some time you'll come to love this side of me too– So don't shy away from me, ___," he reached up to stroke your cheek tenderly before he leaned back down and switched between engulfing each of your nipples in tight, moist kisses.

Heeseung would deepen the kiss against your breasts and suckle a little harder each time, provoking your moans to grow louder along with his pace.

Fuck, you had almost forgotten how amazing this felt like.

Feeling desperate, you caught his wrist to lick a stripe against his palm and along the length of his fingers, needing something to do with your mouth. Heeseung slid two of his fingers past your lips, and you eagerly sucked on them, letting your tongue swirl over his knuckles and messily coat them in your saliva.

Heeseung's groan rumbled against your breast, causing you to moan against his digits and buck your hips into his waist. His mouth slid off your tit, giving each one a final caress with his tongue, then he tugged you up to sit against the back of the smooth couch cushions.

Your head spun; it was utterly dizzying to be worshipped by him.

"Please, don’t stop touching me," you urged.

"I know, let me give it to you, baby,” Heeseung cooed, “Let me make your aching pussy feel better."

Once he had you situated and comfortable, he sank to his knees between your legs, and just the rough appearance of him made your clit throb. Heeseung's dark hair was a bit disheveled from your entanglements, and his lips were swollen, glistening in the loveliest way. Then it hit you that he was still clothed from head to toe, to your disapproval.

"Come here and let me take off your shirt."

Heeseung obediently sat up on his knees, and you leaned over, roughly dragging your hands down the center of his torso, the buttons to his black silk shirt giving under your fingers with a pop. He pushed back your hair to mouth kisses just under your ear, distracting you a bit.

Once you undid his shirt, you made a point to admire his lean physique, unmistakably that of a dancer's. With too much excitement, you pushed his shirt past his broad shoulders to reveal his sculpted chest and abs.

"Wow," your brows rose as you trailed your touch down his chest, "You're literally ripped."

"It sort of comes with the job…" He glanced down at the carpet, a small smile tugging at his lips.

There was that shy boy you were all too familiar with, but the moment Heeseung met your eyes again, he'd switched back to his current self, his gaze abounding with desire– and suddenly, you were the one faltering under his attention.

His bulge had remained prominent in his pants and empathizing with his needs, you reached down to touch him. However, he caught your hand.

"Let me take care of you first," Heeseung pulled you into a heated kiss, palms stroking along your inner thighs.

Oh god.

It was impossible to keep track of how many times Heeseung kissed you so far in the night, but somehow, each one felt sweeter than the last.

"Still wet for me?"

"Yes," you shuddered as he trailed kisses down your stomach, hovering over your clothed mound.

Heeseung slipped his fingers under the lacy waistband of your panties and peeled the soaked fabric back from your pussy. He was enraptured with the way the strands of your slick fell against your skin, the scent of your arousal making his entire body ache.

"So pink and pretty," He sat back and spread his knees to steady himself between your legs, "Have you tasted yourself, ___?"

Flustered, you hesitated to answer, but when Heeseung inclined his chin, the truth came out, "...Yes."

"Naughtier than I thought," Heeseung tugged off your panties from your ankle and shot you a mischievous look when he brought the soaked fabric to his lips, "Bet you taste sweet."

He wouldn't—

Heeseung ran his tongue over the pool of wetness on your lace panties, collecting your arousal on his taste buds. The feverish look he sent you had you reeling.

“Hee…”

"I was right, but I think you're sweeter from the source."

Speechless, your face burned, and your clit tingled as he tucked your panties into his back pocket and pulled you closer to him by your hips.

"Guess I'll just have to find out."

Heeseung dragged the tip of his tongue around your engorged lower lips, coming teasingly close to your clit just to blow a cold gust of air on it.

"Oh my god, Hee, please," Your body trembled with unbearable tension as you tried to lift your hips towards him, chest heaving because of his torment on your body. "Don't tease—"

Finally, Heeseung flattened his tongue and sloppily lapped up your slit to capture your clit against his lips. You threw your head back as a moan ripped from your throat, eyes squeezing shut in pleasure. There was no way the sensation of getting eaten out could ever get old to you. Although it was only your second time, you were positively addicted.

And Heeseung devoured you with fervor, the feelings he'd built up for you over the years finally releasing through this outlet of pleasuring you. He continuously rolled his tongue over your clit, and suckled kisses over the nub, the moist sounds mixed with his muffled groans filling your ears.

He felt so soft on your pussy— a perfect mix of gentle and frenzied to push you over the edge.

"Ahn, fuck, you’re so good at this..." You praised while stroking Heeseung's hair away from his eyes; you were surprised to see the immense fondness in them.

With a twinge in your chest, you realized there was no way you were his first, not with how skilfully he used his tongue. When did your Heeseung grow up in between graduating from university and the present day?

Heeseung noticed your expression waver and immediately picked up the pace, pulling you back into the moment. He wriggled his tongue back and forth on your clit, and held you open by your thigh while his middle finger dragged up your entrance.

"A-ah! I haven't yet…"

With much difficulty, Heeseung released your clit with a smack and looked over you curiously. "You haven't what yet, baby?"

"I haven't fingered myself yet," You caught your breath, trying to read his reaction.

"Oh," He considered your words while playing with your wetness by circling his thumb over your pussy, "I'd rather we do what you're comfortable with then, baby."

"Well, I want to try it with you… if you go slow." You nibbled on your lip, trying to control yourself when Heeseung's insistent touches kept you squirming.

"Yeah? I promise I'll be very gentle. Tell me if you don't like it, and we'll stop," Heeseung rubbed his cheek against your thigh, his sweet eyes crinkling as he gave you a pleased smile, "I wanna know all the things that make you tick..."

With that, his mouth was back on your pussy, lovingly working you open and getting you back into the mood, so you were thoroughly soaked to take his fingers.

Knowing how much you liked it, Heeseung reached up to squeeze your tits and rub at your sensitive nipples, eliciting a muffled moan from you as struggled to stay quiet. The combined stimulation of all your sweet spots had you reeling, the start of an orgasm building in your core.

Heeseung pulled back only to cover his index and middle finger with his own saliva as he observed your conflicted expression from under his lashes.

In that moment, he realized he’s never wanted to ruin you more than now.

Swiping his tongue over his lips, he twisted a single finger against your entrance, mixing his saliva with your slick. At the slightest pressure, your pussy gushed with arousal.

"Hnhn, H-Hee–"

"Relax, baby, you can let me in. I'll go slow, promise. One finger at a time."

Determined to keep from clenching, you released a breath and calmed your nerves, your hands moving to squeeze your tits out of comfort. Heeseung took the opportunity to press into your warm folds, and you felt him nudge even deeper inside you.

"You're doing so well for me, ____. Want me to keep going?"

"Yes," you nodded and felt his knuckles slowly push past your slit to stroke against your velvet walls.

"Oh shit–" You seized around his digit and spilled more of your wetness onto his hand.

"Feel that, how deep I am?" Heeseung felt so hot, rubbing your insides so wonderfully, and it was just the effect of his single finger.

"T-this is intense..."

"Your body knows it was made to take this," his voice deepened, "See?"

Heeseung took his sweet time, letting you feel every sensation of him slowly pumping in and out of your tightening walls. A surge of wetness accompanied his fingers each time he pressed in, your insides overreacting to his intrusion while you mesmerized him.

"God, you won't stop dripping, baby," he remarked in awe, swiping his tongue along your pussy to lap up your wetness.

"A-another," you splayed your hands out against the velvet sofa and coerced him with a grind of your hips, feeling as if you were about to go insane.

Immediately Heeseung appeased you; he worked a second finger into your tightness, attempting to stretch your walls that resisted him. So he eased out slightly— pressing back in at the halfway point— and peppered your thighs with kisses. At the same time, he thumbed your clit to give you a break you didn't realize you needed.

Of course, you thought he was only teasing you to death, and two could play at that game.

"More," you untied your dress completely, letting it fall open while you fondled your breasts seductively from above him, "I want more."

"Need more of my fingers inside of you, baby? Is one not enough for this tight pussy?" Heeseung smirked at how quickly your demeanor shifted in comparison to just before he began to finger you.

The intense pressure in his pants persisted, but he was doing his damndest to keep himself in check, determined to see you come undone first. Because the moment you walked into the lobby, he felt it in the air, in the way you nearly dissolved in his arms; you needed this.

"Yes, yes— need more of you," you begged.

So Heeseung didn't hesitate to resume fitting his knuckles past your walls, and once he felt your insides give, he filled you with his fingers. The man didn't give a damn about your slick spilling past his wrist and soaking into the velvet texture of the sofa— he was much too preoccupied with the way your beautiful body writhed under him, testing him.

The stretch of his fingers was perfect, your luscious moans and the deep flush over your skin incredibly telling of your pleasure.

"Ahn, haah, Hee…"

Heeseung curled his fingers against a sweet spot deep inside of you, and laved his tongue over the expanse of your pussy, sucking tenderly at your clit.

“R-right there,” you sobbed, squeezing your eyes shut.

There was no way you'd last any longer at this relentless pace; you were already arching off the cushions, and Heeseung had to hold your hips down with his free hand to finish you off.

He moaned deeply against your clit upon feeling your fingers thread through his hair to brace yourself against him, his lips and tongue working together to suckle and plunge into your pussy ‘till you spilled your sweetness against him.

"Oh god, oh god, ohhh god…"

"C'mon, sweetheart," Heeseung sped up and slid his fingers from your entrance only to twist them back in at the perfect angle, "Want you to soak yourself, want to taste you on my tongue for the next week— come on me, baby."

"Heeseung– Hee–" Your hips jerked against his face once, twice— and you nearly blacked out from the ecstasy of his tongue shaking against your clit, his fingers heavily stroking your insides even though you squeezed him like a vice.

You were falling apart in a way you never have before, the closest you've ever been to being filled, and you could almost cry from the crashing waves of pleasure flooding your body. Everything felt so blindingly sweet; it was incredible.

When your tremors began to subside, you could barely open your eyes and prop yourself up to look at him, taking in one of the biggest messes you've ever been a culprit of— from the soaked cushion underneath you to Heeseung's cum stained lips and chin. His reddened cheeks and jaw were glistening as well and you felt like fainting on the spot.

Heeseung wasn't quite done with you because he pressed your knees into your chest and buried his hot tongue inside you with a deep squelch. He continued to lap lower between your cheeks, then back over your taint, and along your folds to kiss your swollen nub.

"Mmmn," He hummed against your skin teasingly, and there was no way you could hold yourself up anymore, so you fell back with a breathy moan, fingers tugging on anything of his that you could grab hold of.

"Fuck, Hee!"

An excess of heat spread across your face, body trembling from Heeseung's rather passionate acts. Pleased with your reactions, he sat back and massaged his palms over your legs as helped you stretch them out, a wince pulling at your features.

"Such an obedient pussy. You took my fingers so well for your first time, baby," Heeseung smiled, mouthing along your thigh.

How were you supposed to move a muscle after that? You felt drunk out of your mind.

"T-that felt so good, Hee."

"Yeah? How good?"

All you could do in response was tug him against your lips for a kiss that lasted until you both had to break for air.

Why was it so easy to kiss him?

Heeseung's eyelids lowered as he stood up and slid against your side. "Huh, so good enough for a second time?"

"Maybe," You shoved at his chest, and he fell back against the sofa cushions while you climbed over him, "It was good enough for me to want to do something about it right now, so I'll let you choose."

You steadied yourself over his lap on the sofa and ran your fingernail along his pant zipper, still a bit shaky from your orgasm. "When you come, do you want my pussy rubbing on your cock or my tongue?"

Heeseung looked genuinely conflicted. "...What if I want a little bit of both?"

"Both?" You questioned, unsure if you should be flattered or taken aback, "For you, I could make an exception… Why, you want me every which way that badly, baby?"

Heeseung grazed your chin with his thumb. "___, I'm just being greedy since I haven't seen you in so long."

"… Tell me, why all of this all of a sudden?"

Heeseung settled back against the couch with a sigh and pulled you onto his lap, quietly considering your question. You let him, but neither of you moved besides his palms caressing over your hips. Part of you was hoping to get some insight into his feelings for you without this being an outright interrogation.

"It may seem sudden to you, but it's not for me," He admitted, “Back then, I leaped at any opportunity to hang out, like when you'd invite me to study at your favorite boba shop after classes. You were always the focused sort, and I admired you for it, but when we'd sit at those long tables, and you'd lay your head on my lap while you slept— well my thoughts would run wild."

"Seriously?" You smirked, "How wild?"

"Shamelessly so. The depraved side of me thought about you laying on your stomach next to me and quietly unzipping my pants to suck on my cock while no one was looking. The equally terrible, naive side of me wanted to pull a Sleeping Beauty, but I knew I would've gotten my ass beat, and rightfully so."

Holy shit.

"That’s so… I can't believe you thought about me that way," You murmured, despite the reframing of your innocent memories with Heeseung making your face burn.

"I know, but can you blame me? I mean," He ran his fingers up the side of your waist, admiring your figure, "Look at you, you're beautiful."

"I am so embarrassed right now," You admitted under your breath.

He held your hands against his chest and chuckled when you started shrinking away. What else were you supposed to do under such circumstances? Heeseung was the sweetest, but there was only so much attention you could take in a night.

"Hey, don't get shy with me because that's not all."

"It's not?"

"No. ___, you had your shit together, and I was just a kid who probably wouldn't have survived university without you whipping my ass into gear. I always looked up to how you took care of the people around you, even if it was your special brand of tough love."

You stifled a laugh by biting down on your lip, taking in his words.

"I felt special being one of the few, but I knew you had a reputation for being a bit of a heartbreaker. People who dared to ask you out never stood a chance," Heeseung smiled, then hesitated, "... I never got the chance to tell you, but I got into some relationships after we graduated. One was a little more serious than the other, or so I thought."

He failed to hide the disappointment and hurt in his expression when your features wilted in confusion. It was impossible to identify the untold feelings you experienced in that very second, but most of them had to do with the astonishing fact that Heeseung had fallen in love when you weren't looking; when you should have been looking out for him as his best friend.

"They didn't work out, and it was for reasons out of my control," He glanced at you, and was touched to see your concerned expression, "But you know how it goes sometimes."

Heeseung knew about your first love, which you'd shared with him long ago— but he didn't know about Jake.

Stunned, your mind raced for something to say in response. Even though you nodded slightly and remained quiet, he could see you processing his words with a forlorn expression.

"It's okay. It's one of those things you come out stronger from, you know?" Heeseung reassured you, even though it should have been the other way around, "I only brought that up because I could never get enough of you back then— even now."

Absentmindedly, he ran his hands down your arms; his even gaze slowly descending your body, making you even more breathless, in your emotional state.

"I always wished you were my first, it made the most sense, but I made my choices. I guess I was too reserved with my feelings and didn’t realize I should be a little more honest with myself until we started doing our own separate thing. It's hard, but I've been trying to be better at that."

"Heeseung."

Just the way you sighed his name had him lightheaded as if he weren't already hanging on a thread with you in his arms. It was almost too much when you cupped his cheek with your palm. His eyes fluttered shut for a mere moment before they took you in with deep affection.

Heeseung continued, "I know you, ___, so tell me later when you've taken some time to think. Way down the line, after we've caught up and you've given me the time of day to properly express everything to you," He pressed close to you, his lips barely brushing yours, eyes steady, "But please don't make me wait too long. I'm here when you need me... when you want me."

"Like now?" You asked, already knowing his answer.

"Yeah— like now."

With a gentleness that threatened to undo you entirely, Heeseung moved his lips against yours, causing a fluttering in your stomach that was reminiscent of what should have been your first.

So many should-haves and could-haves.

However, Heeseung in all of his abilities was intent on disallowing you to dwell too long on the past. His restless lips on your skin and hard body beneath yours served as a reminder that in the present moment, he wasn't anywhere in the world but right here with you.

The entire expanse of your skin felt ultra-sensitive under his touch because of your last orgasm, but he still pushed your limits. His thumbs rolled over your puffy nipples, the addition of his insatiable kisses bringing them to pleasured peaks while you panted sweetly, and soon enough, you were dripping from between your thighs onto the dark fabric of his pants.

"A-ah," You gasped against his neck and bucked your hips against his waist when you felt him drag his middle finger between your folds and circle your clit. He did it again, swiping at your slit and pulling back a few inches to see your pre-cum string along his fingers.

"Look at you falling apart on me. Your body can't get enough, can it?"

"Can't imagine how you feel, Hee," You shot back, even though you were about to lose it, "You must be aching."

"I just might be," Heeseung grunted and lightly squeezed your jaw, “Think you could take it if I stuffed your adorable cheeks with my cock, baby?"

"Yes,” you breathed.

“Good answer.”

With that, you were quickly undoing the closure of Heeseung's pants, wanting to feel the heat of his cock against your pussy and tongue, in whichever order he wanted. He strained under the layers of fabric, but once you tugged his pants and black briefs low enough on his hips, you dipped past his waistband and seized his cock.

You salivated at the gorgeous sight of him; Heeseung's thick girth was incredibly hot to the touch, pulsing against your hand with considerable length. Your finger traced along the ridge of his tip up to his bubbling slit, wanting to taste him.

You slid off his lap to kneel between his spread thighs, and god, did he look gorgeous staring down at you with darkened eyes and a flush across his cheeks. His bare chest rose and fell irregularly, and his muscular thighs on either side of your body flexed under your ministrations.

"Fuck," Heeseung groaned when the first thing you chose to do was to press a kiss to the head of it, wetting your lips with his pre-cum as you locked eyes with him. You gripped him at the base with both hands and coated his cock with more of your saliva, gliding your mouth along the sides of his length and sucking messily at his overflowing tip.

He was so incredibly tasty.

"Sucking my cock perfectly," Heeseung ran his hands through your hair, doing you a favor by holding it back from your face. Grateful, you hollowed your mouth around his cock and sucked continuously, ignoring the ache in your jaw from his size, making sure to adequately accommodate him. His shaft slid against your face when you'd lick along his base and mouth at his balls, smearing saliva and pre-cum across your cheeks.

"Like that, Hee?" You asked around a mouthful of him.

"Ah god— Yes, yes. Wrap your hand beneath my balls and fist my cock with your other hand. Good,” Heeseung reveled at your acquiescence; it showed through his commands and praises, "Suck a little harder; that's it. Show me what you've got, baby."

Heeseung could feel himself grow desperate when you continued to pump his cock with one hand and took his balls captive in your other grip, how you slurped and stretched your lips around them; holding his gaze all the while. Even with absolute self-control, he was slipping under your touch; every graze of your mouth seemed beyond his reality.

Anyone would slip, he reasoned, due to his adoration for you all that you were, from your humanizing faults to the few passions you held dear and everything in between.

But not just anyone could attain your favor as he did– and the darkest part of him wanted to ensure it stayed that way, regardless of who came before him and those who would try to come after.

Pushing the irritating thought to the back of his mind, Heeseung found himself enamored with the view he had of you between his thighs, your eyes glossy with lewd sounds spilling from your throat, pleasuring him with a vigor he knew he didn't deserve. It was officially his second favorite view next to being between your thighs, his face streaked with your cum while you convulsed in ecstasy.

Mine.

Amid Heeseung's length occupying your mouth, he nudged you off his cock and dragged you up into his lap.

"Enough of that," He gripped his flushed cock and swiped the tip of it teasingly along your sopping folds, "You're amazing baby, but I just wanna feel you like this. Wanna see your eyes roll back when you come from humping my cock. How's that sound?"

All you could do was nod eagerly, and make pathetic noises of agreement against his damp neck.

He's just as worked up as I am, but he somehow hides it better than me.

Heeseung let his soaked shaft fall against his abs, and then his hands were kneading into your ass, sliding your lower half against the underside of his hard cock. The head of it rubbed against your clit with each thrust, the knot in your core tightening more and more.

"I want you to look at me when you come, ___."

Your nails dug into his chest, and you shut your eyes tight, feeling dizzier than ever. "No, I can't. That's too much…"

"I wasn't asking," He whispered lowly, nipping at the lobe of your ear.

When you lifted your head to look at him, Heeseung recognized the same helpless expression you wore on the dance floor. It was the one you'd put on during unwanted attention, precisely when overthinking got the best of you.

"___, it's just me," He cradled your face in his hands and comforted you with a soft peck on your lips, ”It’s just you and me. Look...”

Obeying Heeseung, you watched the way you met each other’s hips in tandem, his red cock peeking out from between your folds with each messy thrust, your bouncing tits framing the perfect view of your deprived body.

“You’re so fucking sexy, baby,” Heeseung tipped your chin back up to look at him, “I’m about to come just from how good your pussy feels on top of me. The taste of your sweet cum nearly did me in, but here I am, letting you get off on me again. It’s driving me nuts—“

Heeseung’s brazen confession made you whimper, your muscles tensing up, “— But I think you love grinding on me, like I’m your big, personal teddy bear to get off on in secret. Is that all I am to you, ___?”

“N-no,” You shook your head and weakly denied his words out of shame, even while your thighs burned from rubbing your slit against his cock non-stop.

“No?” Heeseung had the gall to laugh, albeit breathlessly as he caressed your cheeks, “You’re so cute.”

Just as he saw your eyes start to shake and lose focus of him, Heeseung began to grind his hips deeply against yours, drawing out your orgasm with never-ending stimulation to your pulsing clit. The force of his thrusts was jarring but so perfect as you rolled your hips into him, smothering his cock with your pussy while he watched your lovely features contort into an even more euphoric expression.

Heeseung just couldn't get enough of your rapturous moans, proud that they most definitely could be heard through the walls. He felt his impending release near just from you clawing at his sweat-stained skin, chasing his lips of your own accord.

"F-fuck—" You choked out when he continuously lifted and slammed you down against his hips despite you being sensitive, his rough fingers digging into your flesh, "Heeseung!"

In a heartbeat, Heeseung was overwhelmed, pure bliss fiercely invading his senses by force after such well delayed gratification. He hid his face against your shoulder with a tempered growl as hot cum shot against his damp chest and abs.

To your satisfaction, Heeseung's release smeared into your stomach and inner thighs when you rocked into him despite trembling, helping him through his high. With how he held you so tightly against him, you felt like you'd almost burst against his chest, but he loosened his grip on you immediately once he realized his strength in the moment.

"Sorry," He huffed against your lips, "I’m sorry, baby, I thought I was holding back. You just feel so good…"

"It's okay," You swiped his damp hair back from his dazed features, pretty sure that you looked as out of it as he did, "You came a lot…"

With a hoarse laugh, he responded, "Yeah, guess who's fault that is?"

Heeseung's jaw went slack when you dipped your head to run your tongue up his chest to taste his sticky release, and you were immediately taken by his taste. It didn't help that you went so casually about it, swiping remnants of his cum off your lip with your thumb just to suckle it clean.

"... Whatever do you mean? I plead innocence."

God, so help him.

His mind sang three words over and over when his sight focused on your glowing face, but he withheld them, knowing all to well that you weren't ready to hear them.

So instead, he kissed you, for all it was worth, even though he knew it wasn't enough to make up for your past, the old wounds and fresh ones alike.

Still, he had to try.

He had to.

When you both emerged from the lounge and peeked into the main room, it was empty and quiet save for two workers that were on the night shift.

Jake had left, and you were relieved.

Jay was flipping up the stools of the bar so his co-worker could easily mop the floor. At the bar's edge, you spotted Heeseung's coat, your watered-down cocktails, and bags of food that Jay must've thoughtfully bagged for you.

How sweet… and embarrassing!

"Shit. Jay, I really appreciate you packing everything up for us," You slowly approached your belongings, the handsome bartender acknowledging you with a nod, "Um, can we close out with you and finish our drinks?"

"Sure thing, lov–" Jay's eyes darted to Heeseung at your side before he cleared his throat, "Sure thing."

Heeseung slid his card across the marble bar before you could pull out yours, and Jay swiftly took it over to the cash register on the opposite end.

"Hey," you glared up at him, "It was supposed to be my treat. This is what I work hard for."

"Well, the next one's all yours," he said just to quell you.

Heeseung moved his coat off one of the remaining two stools and took his seat facing you. You remained standing at the bar, a little too antsy about being judged by Jay and the employees to take a seat. Afterwards, you did your genuine best to clean the stains out of those luxurious sofas, but god forbid they put two and two together, and you'd never be able to show your face in this establishment again—

"___," Heeseung held his glass towards you, "Cheers."

Looks like you were the only one who was worried.

You forgot that you were starving and even more so after… all that. Drinking on an empty stomach was not the brightest idea, but you didn't want it to go to waste. With caution, you took your glass in hand and clinked it against his, the citrusy peppermint aroma wafting off the light emerald liquid.

You took a sip as Heeseung tried his drink. Minty indeed, but you refused to make the connection with the flavor of toothpaste.

"Verdict?" You asked him.

"It tastes good; sweet although it lost its fizz. I like it," Heeseung eyed the heavy swirl of deep purple beneath the floating opaque cream in his glass, a small grin growing on his face, "Tell me your psychological analysis on how this drink reminds you of me again…"

"Oh, you can forget it," You brushed him off when you knew what he was getting at and instead began to drain your cocktail clean.

"Wait, let me try," He reached out, and you moved to hand him your drink. Instead, he gently took hold of your jaw and swiped his tongue past your lips, making your stomach flip as if the filth that took place in the past few hours didn't just happen.

"Mm–"

Heeseung pulled back ever so slightly, his voice dropping seductively, "I actually kind of like it. Reminds me of those fruity mints you'd feed me to keep me awake during classes."

"I'm sure that doesn't bring back the greatest memories. Still, you remember the little things, don’t you?"

"Can't help it when it comes to you."

Someone cleared their throat and startled you.

"Hey, thanks for coming guys. Have a great night," Jay returned Heeseung's card but also had something to whisper to you, "Jake covered half of the bill."

Your brows rose, "Jake did? You know Jake?"

"Yeah, he's your roommate, isn't he? I sort of just found that out tonight; we're friends. He said it was to pay you back for something he owed you," Jay said simply.

You nodded dumbly.

"By the way, this goes for both of you guys,” Jay addressed Heeseung, “Don't mind that silver-haired guy's shenanigans, it's just our dumbass friend’s way of stirring things up on a night out. I only oblige because I get paid."

So, Jay just expressed he thinks you and Heeseung were more than you initially let on, but Jay still didn’t seem to regard differently than normal… Did that mean Jake kept quiet about you two?

"Oh, no worries…” you unintentionally drew out your words while searching for your thoughts, "Did Jake head home a while ago?"

Jay's eyes shifted to Heeseung momentarily, noticing the man's rather impassive expression, "… Yeah, I think he decided to stay over at Sunghoon's place."

You nodded, "I see. Well, thank you for everything, Jay.”

"Thanks," Heeseung said to Jay, with one hand full of bags and the other slipping into yours.

"… Of course. See you guys around."

This time Heeseung saw you home, the entire way.

You felt the alcohol hit quickly during the Uber ride; usually, it'd take a few drinks, but since you were on an empty stomach, it affected you quite a bit. Besides the tiredness in your muscles a calmness came over you, and you couldn't stop staring at Heeseung along the way.

When Heeseung noticed, he found it amusing but didn't try to start anything with you. He just stared back momentarily and squeezed your knee, leaving his hand there to gently caress your skin.

It was hard to leave him when you found yourself staring at the door to your apartment, keys in hand.

"It's late…" You stated, and Heeseung looked surprised when he saw your sweet eyes inviting him in.

Lord, was he tempted to.

He had inkling that you were more to Jake than he first thought, and there wasn't a single part of him that sat right with it. For tonight, at the very least, he could leave you in peace knowing your likely-to-be drunk roommate wasn't in.

Heeseung decided to be forthright with you, "It is late… but if you invite me in tonight, I can't guarantee what might happen."

Even though his words were promising, he was right to warn you. There was only one thing left to do after messing around with him and this wasn’t about having protection or not… What were you thinking?

Slightly disappointed at yourself, you nodded and slid your hand from his grasp, but he caught it— held it.

"I had an amazing time with you," Heeseung began, "But it almost felt like I didn’t catch up with you enough. You know what I mean?”

Ah, beyond making out, going down on each other and sweet talking… Honestly, with the way things had been going, I’m not really sure if that could’ve been helped.

“I do,” you said.

“Then are you down to do this again, soon?”

“So like, do what exactly?” You giggled and lifted a brow at him, “Catch up more?”

Heeseung smiled at your tipsiness, “Yes, but how about I take you out to an amusement park or something like that and we have a day to ourselves. You down?”

“Hee, I haven’t gone to one in so long! Obviously, I'm down.” You bounced excitedly on your toes.

“Yeah? I’ll ask you again in the morning, alright?”

“Mhmm,” With the alcohol clouding your thoughts, you weren’t sure whether to pull him in for a kiss, a hug or both.

Heeseung being both a tease and gentleman, decided for you and pressed a kiss to your cheek that lingered with heat.

Damn.

Feeling cheated out, you pressed your body flush against his and hung your arms around his neck under the guise of a hug. You sensed Heeseung tense up and heard his sharp inhale, knowing he could feel every soft contour of your body because you could feel his. He embraced you against his chest— tightly— and released you just in time before you lost it.

Heeseung looked down at you; his eyes heavy and dilated, “Good night, ___.”

Oops.

"Night, Heeseung… get home safely."

"Thanks. Don't forget to eat," He said over his shoulder, holding his half of the food in tow.

"Oh, I won't,” you smiled.

Once you slipped into your dark apartment, you set down the bags to lock up with a sigh.

The lock clicked in place, then suddenly, you were being pressed up against the door by a warm, hard body behind you, a whiff of hard liquor hitting you first before the intoxicating scent you knew to be—

"J-Jake?"

His arms squeezed you tightly just beneath your breasts, locking you against him. Jake’s soft breath tickled your neck as he buried his face against your shoulder.

"Missed you, ___."

–

AUTHOR’S NOTE CONT.

Big thanks to those of you who have been waiting for this and spurring me on to get this up through compliments and feedback! To preface this post, I'll be taking a little break from this series to work on some other ideas I've been thinking of, but how fast I get back to writing this depends on what you guys are wanting too. I might do an 800 follower celebration and take requests also, so stay tuned (I'm 6 followers away lol)!

I've always pictured this to be a slow-burn and tagged it as so since part two. Between this chapter and the series finale– Jake has an obstacle course to get through before he can win MC's heart. Let's be honest, the boy needs to suffer a little bit of what he put MC through. Likewise, MC has to sort her shit out.

Also, it turns out a lot of you are Hee biased with Jake as your wrecker based on the survey I put out a while ago (just like me hehe). I wonder if some of you are still team Jake after this chapter or has your allegiance changed in IOU? Or both?

Please let me know if you enjoyed it and want more asap or are more interested in new AU’s. Feedback from you has proven to keep me motivated! 🖤⚰️

— P.

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