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hoshigray · 6 months

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Heyyy. Can I request a college au. Reader is an average, socially awkward person but somehow managed to pulled the campus heartthrob, Geto (or gojo). And he's lowkey obsessed with her and try to be fucking her every chance he gets.

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: why not both? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ idk, felt like doing a threesome for some reason lmao

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Geto + Gojo x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! college setting - sex in public places; gymnasium locker room + dining hall + college dorms - oral (m! + f! receiving) - face + throat-fucking - fingering (f! receiving) - clitoral play (swiping, grinding and licking/sucking) - face-sitting - threesome - double penetration; anal and vaginal - cowgirl dp position - anal fingering (f! receiving) - kissing/making out - protected sex (psa: warp it up or get tf up) - overstimulation - pet names (angel, baby, cutie, my love, pretty girl, princess, sweetie, sweetheart) - sato + sugu being whipped over you, hehe~ - slight humor - mention of tears and drool.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.1k (pretty long for a req, lol)

“Oh, Y/n, it’s good to see you. Did you have a good weekend? Let’s walk each other to class; I was waiting for you.”

“Y/nnnn! This cold day is so much warmer now that you’re here. Let’s grab something to eat at the dining hall, okay?”

You thought college life couldn’t get any more difficult than it already is. Oh, how you were so wrong…

Being on your own on campus was hard enough; states away from your family and having to rely on and take care of yourself while also striving for a better education. On top of this, making friends (outside of your roommates Shoko and Utahime) is such a social and excruciating chore as it’s challenging to put yourself out for people to notice you. Making small talk with your peers or talking/discussing group material in classes has your heart racing enough – not to mention trying to commit to clubs – making you feel a bit of a failure as a human being.

With that, you almost dwell on not trying at all. You’re utterly content with your inner circle with your roommates, waking up and heading to classes and back, eating college food, and sleeping after reading for a lecture. This routine of sticking to yourself was a notion you’ve grown to accept and find comfort in — no need to change it if it’s been doing you well this far.

That is until you meet them — Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru, the best friends of your roommate Shoko.

Gojo is the star player of the school’s basketball team, a famous face among the class years, and the “disgustingly tactless, cutesy prince” of your year, as described by Utahime. By morning, he’s a dedicated student in his business administration major and history minor classes; by afternoon, he is his playful, social, and charismatic snow-haired soul, grabbing the attention of others and bringing life to those around him with his bright cadence. In addition, he’s a talented figure, capturing the hearts of many with his model work in fashion shows and playing fan-favorite roles in plays.

In contrast, Geto was a much more mellow star that pulled the hearts of students and professors alike. The raven-haired bioengineering major was a boy whose presence was easy not to notice yet quick to pull you in when making himself known. His tall, docile figure emitted an aura that accompanied the soothing tune of his voice, the perfect combination that made him trustworthy and obliging to the students around him and his lacrosse teammates. With the charming features of a heartthrob and the alluring speech of a leader, he’s someone many would turn to in search of a person to follow and praise.

Satoru and Suguru, two complete opposites – two best friends – who are, without a doubt, the twin stars of this school. However, there was one thing the two shared in common, something that made your heart skip and your mind race every time knowing this fact: the two were unmistakably and sickeningly in love with you!

How? You do not know. It all started when Shoko brought them over one night for dinner, and you saw them for a quick moment in the kitchen, quickly greeting them before rushing back into your room. Next thing you knew, you had begun to see and run into them every so often, which soon turned to at least once per day. And now, like a white bubbly puppy and a black, quietly affectionate cat, you could not shake them off you when and wherever you went.

Oh, it was something you were not used to, being sneaked up from behind by Gojo, who’d pull you in for a hug or lift you with every greeting in public (as if you weighed like nothing)! Especially in classes where Geto would surprise you with his calm voice and a warm hand on your shoulder to check if you were okay before claiming the chair next to you. And you couldn’t push them away — how could you when two of the most renowned faces on school grounds want to be around your presence!? Good Lord, it was all overwhelming, Shoko and Utahime having to step in to beat the boys into shape for making you uncomfortable.

And then there are those times when the two would butt heads with each other because of you! There have been a handful of times where if one had you to themselves, the other would bore glares to the former’s skull. Gojo would suck his teeth with his arm wrapped around your shoulder, white brows furrowed and ticked off blue eyes concealed by his dark circle shades. “Yo, Buddha with bangs, can you let go? Y/n promised to hang with me after their classes ended, and I’d be damned if you’d be third-wheeling.”

“That’s not happening, Satoru,” Geto’s hand grasps yours with more grip, royal purple eyes narrowed at his white-haired friend. “Y/n and I have a presentation to work on for tomorrow. Go lollygag somewhere else.”

Two positive bundles of life will immediately turn hostile when it comes to you, suffocating your very being as you’re stuck in the middle of them. It’s bad enough being with either of them has people notice and talk about you; it’s another thing when you’re being fought over like some small bunny between two snarling wolves. Oh God, why me!!??

But it wasn’t all bad. If anything, being fawned over by the two was a strange thing that has happened to you thus far, and not in a terrible way. Gojo has made you a lot more open and social than before, dragging you to parties he’s been invited to and to his crowded games (where he’s always sure to find you and blow a kiss). And spending time with Geto has sparked instances where you’re courageous enough to speak for yourself with a bit of a push from him, throwing in your inputs for class discussions or having him aid you in knowing your material when you two study together.

The two most popular guys in school who flatter and are obsequious over you. That in itself is enough to make your cheeks and ears dial in warmth, shielding your face in your pillows just thinking about them. You like them both, bound to be drawn in by the handsome boys and their pursuit of you.

However, their infatuation was something you’d find out goes beyond words and handholds. An obsession for you embroidered in their very minds…and bodies.

“…Mhahhh, Go—Mmmph! Gojooo…we shouldn’t be doing this…”

“Aww, c’mon, Y/n, you know I don’t like it when you call me by last name. It’s just the two of us here…Fuck, keep licking it like that…”

Sneaking into the basketball team’s locker room is one thing; sneaking in with the star player in the team with you between his legs on the bench and sucking his dick? Oh, that’s a can of worms you never thought you’d open in your entire life.

Gojo brings his head back, banging on the locker behind him as the contact of your tongue on his pink tip sends shivers up to his shoulders. “Fuuuck, you feel so good, baby. Gonna make me cum again…” You peer up with lidded eyes as you suck his tip into your mouth, him humming at the warm sensation of your mouth swallowing his length whole. Your face is hot of embarrassment, being looked down on by him as you do such an indecent thing on him in a place of changing for men.

This was his idea – bringing you to the gymnasium to watch him practice with his teammates for an upcoming game. Then, he pulls you aside once the guys want another fifteen-minute water break, bargaining into the men’s locker room and pulling you in for a hot kiss. Sucking on and nibbling on your lips and tongue has you mewl sweetly for him, distracted as he pulls his shorts and briefs down to expose the erection growing inside him. “Sorry, you just looked too cute watching me from the side,” he’d say with a hazy glint in his eyes shielded by his shades.

So here you are, sucking him off to the hilt, where your lips meet strands of his white pubes, making your boyfriend cum for the second time. Gojo brings a hand to your head for purchase, moaning as your hand massages his balls. “—Ahh, fuck…God, you’ve gotten so good at that, cutie. Can’t get enough of you...”

His words burn your ears, his aroused tone making your face even more hot to bear. Gosh, this was such a dangerous game; your nerves constantly on edge in hopes nobody would walk in.

However, your worries might have been what jinxed your fate because you two heard the door to the locker room open. You instantly move your mouth away from Gojo’s cock and stand to panic. But before you could, Gojo quickly grabbed you by the wrist and took you to one of the bathroom stalls. You sat on the toilet, bewildered at being dragged all over this fitness center. Then, Gojo brings his dick to your face again, and you give him the most shockingly confused expression as if he can’t hear the commotion of two people speaking where they used to be.

“Relax, no one’s coming here,” Liar, we almost got caught! He pushes the tip to your mouth, and you murmur on his length, filling your mouth and throat. “Let’s make this one quick, okay?”

You were too busy registering him place his hands on your head before he could slam himself to your mouth; the sudden thrust of his hips propelling his cock deep into the tight crevices of your throat makes you grip onto his shorts for dear life. The slap of his ruts fills your eardrums; you can’t tell how far or close the two guys who entered the locker room are. He’s making you focus on nothing but him — a selfish objection from a selfish man as he’s using you to relieve himself in the men’s locker room. God, this was such a bad situation, and yet your lower half couldn’t stop the throbs that have you shifting your thighs together. How embarrassing!

“Hhnnn, fucking shit, your throat feels so good,” he praises, his slender fingers massaging your scalp. Your tongue brushes the underside of his length in a way that has his pace go faster, and he has to keep his moans to a lower volume. “Shiiit, baby, I’m gonna cum…Take it all in…!”

You have no choice but to, forced to gulp down all of his load that he spills into your tight, warm throat. He still rocks his pelvis into you until every pump of his jizz is inside you. When your ears pick up the sound of the locker room door opening and closing with the dismissal of the two strangers, that’s when Gojo takes his long shaft out of your mouth, spit connecting from your tongue to his cockhead is wiped with haste.

But then, Gojo pokes your cheek with his tip, a sign that he wants to go again. You throw quiet pleas, “N–No, Gojo! You have to get back to practice—“

“Shhh, those guys can survive a few games without me. And besides,” he gently slaps your cheek with his cock. How vulgar! “I’ll fuck your mouth til the end of the day if you don’t stop using my last name when it’s just the two of us here.” The playful grin on his lips doesn’t make that threat any better. “One more time, please?”

With hesitant eyes, you place kisses on his shaft while stroking him. “Only one more…okay, Satoru?”

He beams with the dimples of his cheeks. “Yes, pretty girl~.”

And it doesn’t stop there — because Geto is no better.

“Aww, you two are so cute together~”

You squirm on the booth seat you’re sharing with your other boyfriend, you two sitting across from his friends — a senior couple he shares a lab with that invited him for dinner. Unsurprisingly, you were his plus one, knowing you’re not one for being around people you’re not familiar with. And yet here you are, caged by the wall and Geto’s frame to keep you in this conversation on the side of the busy dining hall.

Geto chuckles before brushing your cheek, "Aren’t we? But they’re the cutest thing to me.” He says as he places a swift kiss on your cheek; it’s an action that has your face grow in warmth — and the couple “awwing” at his affection.

The guy of the couple speaks to the dark, long-haired other. “I never knew you were one for relationships, Geto; you seem so busy with Bio and your clubs that you don’t seem to have time to lay low and be with someone.”

“Mmm, I thought so, too. That is until I met Y/n through a friend of mine,” you jerk at the silent touch of his pinkie grazing your thigh, noting it had sneaked under your skirt to graze its skin. Your eyes peek in his direction, finding that he remains eye contact with the guy he’s talking with. “And, you know, I got to know them here and there, shared some classes with them on the side. Now, I just can’t imagine them being out of my line of sight.”

The guy across laughs. “Sounds kinda obsessive!”

Geto shrugs with a chortle. “I guess it’s like that, I don’t know. I’m just really crazy about them; they’re my sweetheart after all.”

“That’s so sweet!” The girl senior across exclaims, turning to you to ask, “So, how long have you and Geto been a thing, Y/n?”

The question has you stumped for a bit as you weren’t ready to be thrown inquiries. And before you answer, you feel Geto’s hand rub on your thigh. “U-Umm, me—ahem—Geto and I have been a couple for quite a while now? My roommate was the one who introduced me to him—Mmmm!” You briskly flatten your lips at your squeak because the fingers inside your skirt pinch your skin. On command, you spread your legs for Geto to insert his hand inside your panties.

The girl asks more questions. “Oh? So, your roommate brought you two together. Did you know of them before?”

“Well, not really…She and Geto—Ohh!” You bring your hand to your lips at the graze of Geto’s forefinger on your clit. You turn to him and are immediately locked into his violet gaze. He lifts a brow with an undisturbed smile, and you gulp. “I–I mean, Suguru and my roommate have been best friends since high school, so I kinda got…Nnmm,” you chew your lips when he bullies a digit between your folds to play and tease. “She was the one who introduced me to him…”

“Is that so? Hehe, it’s amazing how the world works, huh?” You listen, but your mind is too focused on Geto’s digits swiping and nestling across your wetness to have your body more excited about his touch. And it gets worse as he inserts his forefinger inside your vagina, causing you to jolt and suppress your mewl by leaning into his shoulder, gripping onto the sleeve of his turtleneck. “Here are two lovebirds all lovey-dovey with each other thanks to one friend bringing them together. It’s crazy imagining you two would’ve never met hadn’t that happened.”

Geto hums at that comment, “I agree; I have to thank Shoko for bringing this little angel to my arms.” He places a soft kiss on your forehead, completely nonchalant compared to the quickened pace of the digit scraping your insides. “Isn’t that right, my love?”

With trenched brows and a shaky breath, you try to reply to the awaiting couple. “Mhmm, yes, I’m so grateful that Suguru is in my life…He’s been such a help to me,” his forefinger goes slow, having you feel every dent and knuckle. “Hahhh, he’s so good to me, and I love him just as mu—Mmmph!!”

“Hmm? Are you okay, Y/n?” How can you tell the guy across from you that your boyfriend’s thumb just surprised your clit with a swipe? You’d rather melt on this floor had you not buried your face into Geto’s shoulder.

Speaking of who, he takes the initiative to answer for you. “I think they’re a little parched, must’ve been this lemonade I got for them. I’ll go get them some water—“

“Oh, no, no! I’ll go get the water; I was gonna get more of those garlic knots anyways.” The girl stops Geto from moving, sliding from the booth seat with her boyfriend’s hand to follow suit. “C’mon, let’s leave these lovebirds for a bit. We’ll be right back!”

And so they leave, thanking your lucky stars. Once their figures are nowhere to be seen within the sea of students, you probe the man with a trembling whimper. “Mmmph, Suguru, please, take it out before—Ahhh…! They come back…”

Luckily, he listens to your request with no argument, withdrawing his digit from your wet slick and underwear. And to your horror, he brings the finger to lick and suck and says with a dark look, “Just checking to see what I’ll be having later.”

It doesn’t matter wherever or whenever; Gojo and Geto will be sure that their love for you is expressed to you every chance they get.

It doesn’t matter the day or hour, whether you are free from assignments, spending time with your roommates, or on your way out to study; those two will find a way to get to be with you. And, to be honest, it can be a bit overstimulating!

When there are dates to the movies with Gojo, there’s private alone time with Geto on his bed as he eats you out. And when there are days when Geto holds hands with you and walks you to your classes, there are nights when Gojo will fuck you til his cock is warmed inside you in his slumber. It can go either way, the two competing for your affection and time when the other is out of sight.

Again, sometimes it’s overwhelming for you, never knowing which of the two will have you all to themselves, nor knowing when you can have time to yourself! And it’s not like you haven’t tried putting your foot down to express your wish to be alone. But, albeit it can be utterly exhausting, you know those two love and cherish you so much that it drives them crazy. Hell, it’s driving you crazy just how much they can’t keep their hands off you!

Especially now when they drag you to their shared dorm room, experiencing one of those days when the two wish to have you in the same presence.

“Hahhh, damn, Y/n…you’re sucking me off so good,” Geto purrs with a whistle while lovingly patting your head. “So good for me, huh, sweetie?”

The two stripped you off your clothes to be nude with them on the bed. Your naked frame straddles above Gojo, lying on his back with his face buried into your bare cunt for his mouth and tongue to please you orally. Meanwhile, you suck on Geto’s girth as he leans on the pillows and headboard. It’s his turn after sucking off Gojo (they settled this over rock-paper-scissors) and fingering you to warm you up first.

You whine of his member, Gojo’s tongue doing wonders on your delicate body. He licks on your clit just as you lap yours around Geto’s glans, and then he’ll suck your pearl right as you take in the tip with pursed cheeks. It’s such a mutual shared experience, with how Gojo’s hands wrap to your thighs to keep your chasm on his lips while you have Geto keen to your mouth and hands stroking him.

“—Khhhh, Jesus Christ…Hohhh, right there, sweetie…” The raven-haired one coos as you kiss your way down to his balls to suck one as you continue to jerk him. “Heh, you doing good down there, Satoru?”

The snow-haired other removes his mouth from your folds, licking your essence that sticks to his lips like honey mixed with his saliva. “Hahaa, you have no idea. I could stay like this for hours,” his tongue licks your come to your clit tantalizingly slow, evoking you to almost choke on Geto’s girth. “Aww, look at you trying to move from me,” Gojo brings your hips back down to him for him to swirl around your labia, his grip on your thighs refusing to submit. “Don’t go anywhere, princess; I’m not finished until you cum on my face again.”

“Ohhh, shit, keep doing what you’re doing, Satoru,” Geto subtly bucks his hips, “I love the way they’re whining on my dick…”

With your puffy lips being busy in the front and your cunt being lapped and nibbled on from below, your senses are clouded by the two boys who seek nothing but your participation in experiencing pleasure. Your head gradually turns into mush with every rut to your throat and every lap around your clitoris. It’s to no surprise that your release seeps out of your body without preparation, crying on Geto’s length as your frame quivers in euphoric bliss.

And if you think you couldn’t get swamped enough, think again.

“—Nnngh, fuck, Y/n, you’re gripping on my dick like crazy…Hehe, is it because you can’t look me in the face? Damn, you’re such a cutie…”

Your face is nuzzled in the crook of Gojo’s neck as you’re straddling on top of him, your nude, sweaty bodies melted together to share heat. Your hips bounce up and down on his pelvis, where his rubber-covered length is scraping the walls of your vagina. His left curve grazes and jabs your sweet spots, and your body lies on top of Gojo, which brings more friction to your clitoris.

“Hahhh, ahhnn—Ohhhh!” Your phrases have doubled down to that of whimpers of pleasure, thinking straight is impossible, and your mind is too deep in a haze to focus on anything outside of what’s happening. And it’s not like you can’t stop your hips from bouncing on his shaft — you’ve tried! But the moment your legs express so much as reluctance or fatigue, Gojo’s hands are right there on your ass to guide you back into the rhythm. So it’s expected when you climax on him once more, clamping onto him as you ride out another orgasmic wave. “Ahhaaa! Sa’toruuu, stooohhp—hic…! I’m ‘oo sens' tiveee!!”

“You say that, but—hnnn! You’re rocking those hips of yours on your own, baby.” He chuckles at your slurred speech, placing kisses on your cheek as his hands massage your asscheeks. “Holy shit, you feel so unreal; wanna fuck you raw so bad with how tight you are.”

“Don’t even think about it, Satoru,” you hear Geto’s voice from behind, the dent of the twin-size bed shifting with his added weight. “If I can’t go condom-less, you’re not getting any special treatment out of it either.”

“Psssh, yeah, yeah,” Gojo says with rolled azure eyes before he whispers to your ear. “Come on, angel, let’s get you prepped up.” The white-haired boy’s hands spread your butt, exposing his dick buried deep into your tight slit and your taint.

Geto grins salaciously. “My, what a dirty sight for me, my love.” You chew your lips to his words, the heat in your ears causing them to ring. You then feel his fingers smothered in lube to meet your asshole, spiraling around it before inserting them one by one. Your holes instinctively contract, making Gojo hiss. “Relax, pretty girl,” he kisses your temple. “We’re gonna make you feel so good.”

You remind your figure to calm down, allowing Geto to play with your anus for it to accommodate the next foreign limb he’ll put inside. Gojo keeps kneading your butt, but he throws furtive thrusts up to your chasm to keep you on your toes. You gasp when Geto removes his digits suddenly, and now you bite your bottom lip at the contact of his cockhead touching your puckered entrance. “Stay calm for me, princess. Gonna go slow just for you…”

Breathing with your mouth is the only way you can function through his insertion; even after he properly lubed himself and the rubber, it never fails to amaze you how you’ve been able to take in his girthy dick times before. Every inch pushed inside you feels as if your breath is pulled away, feeling both your holes become occupied. And your head goes up at the snap of Geto’s pelvis smacking on your ass, mouth agape for drool to sneak down puffy lips.

“Heh, there you are,” Gojo licks your spit before placing a kiss on your lips. “What a pretty face when you’re going dumb on our dicks, Y/n.”

You couldn’t even reply in modesty because Geto immediately goes pounding your ass with hunger. Your wails come out freely at the pacing of both boys propelling themselves into you. And it doesn’t help that your holes don’t stop contracting on their dicks as they push, the motion making you move your clit against Gojo and having your sore nerves active again.

“Holy fuck,”Geto drills his cock into your taint, grinding his hips into you to make you whine aloud. He then bends to kiss your sweaty shoulder down to your spine. “You’re so tight, Y/n…like you’re gonna milk me dry.”

Words are exhilarated squeaks and shrills, your arms coming around Gojo’s neck and pressing your hot cheek on his. He snickers at how touchy you are, “Hey, baby,” he coaxes you through the onslaught of ruts that quicken in tempo. “God, you sound so fucking cute, angel…”

“—Ahhahh…! Ohhh, guysss, pleaseee, slow d—Owwhhnn!!” You cry, eyes watering with the pokes and jabs on your velvety insides, the curve of Gojo scraping you in places you can’t reach, and Geto’s girth having your backside completely stretched for him. It’s all too much to focus on as your delicate bud is pressed on by your weight. “…Nhooo, God, I’m gonna—“

“Gonna cum, cutie?” You nod hurriedly, amusing Gojo for more chuckles. “Let’s cum together, yeah? Such a pretty girl…” And then, Gojo claims your lips for a steamy, passionate kiss, bringing a hand from your bottom to place behind your head to keep you on him.

“—Hnngh!! Wait, sweetheart, don’t clamp onto me so sudden—Ohh, shit, shit, shiiit,” Black hair strands fall from Geto’s shoulders as he falters at your grip. “Gonna cum, too….Gahhh—“

Your crescendo is the first to appear, howling and mewling into Gojo’s lips while your trembling figure undergoes the shocks of the deep penetration on both ends. The fluttering sensations of your cunt and anus are what prompt the two men to spill their load into you simultaneously, groaning with pleasure from your body. Your head is undoubtedly dizzy, your brain spiraling with impulses as your frame jerks with every wave of your orgasm.

After his climax is done, Geto slowly withdraws his cock from you. The condom filled with his essence. “Phew, that felt way too good.”

“For real, can’t get enough of this.” Gojo sighs while groping your asscheeks and kissing your forehead. “Ready for another round, baby? C’mon, let’s switch before Suguru gets all crybaby on us.” His sweet tone immediately flips to narrow his eyes at Geto for throwing his used, tied condom at Gojo's face for that comment. “Oh, you disgusting son of a bitch…”

“Shut up and switch, or else I’ll have you watch me pound Y/n for fifteen minutes.”

Being loved and obsessed by the two heartthrobs of the school is no easy work, which is evident when you can’t even get to nap by yourself after the sexual activities. With Gojo spooning Geto while he spoons you, there is no rest with these two; they might as well put collars around their necks and give you their leashes with how smitten they are to be around you.

Yet, at the same time, you don’t hate it — far from that. Because you know their feelings for you are genuine, you can see it in their sleeping faces as they’re probably thinking about you in your dreams as you observe. With a smile, you place kisses on their cheeks and silently leave the bed to use their shower.

The warm water is just as welcoming and temperate as their love, keeping you safe and washing your anxiousness away. In your thoughts, you reflect on all the times you’ve grown because of them, and it goes to show that their involvement has done substantial help for you. And for that, you are forever grateful for them and will always reciprocate their feelings as you feel the same.

“Hey, Y/n.”

Well, minus the immediate sense of apprehension that skyrockets once you hear Geto’s voice come behind you. You turn to see his naked self coming towards you to wrap his arms around your waist. “Suguru!? I–I thought you were sleep—“

“I was until you left my arms,” he says to your ear with his dulcet voice, his hands kneading the flesh of your wet hips. “Besides, saves us a lot of time if we share the shower, right?”

“Oh, Y/n~,” another voice enters the bathroom, and your dread plummets even further when Gojo opens the curtains with glee. “Don’t tell me you decided to shower without m—…Oh, you’re here, too.”

“Obviously,” Geto sucks his teeth at his roommate. “I live in this apartment and use this same shower, dumbass.”

Snowy eyebrows crease with irritation as Gojo enters the walk-in shower, sandwiching you between the two. “Well, don’t you think it’s rude for you to use the shower when our guest is using it first?”

“I could be asking you the same thing because who told you to come here?”

“Duh! I’m here to shower with my lover; are you stupid?”

“Are you? Don’t you see a boyfriend is trying to have some alone time with their partner?”

“Oh, eat horse shit.”

“Croak and die.”

You can only stand there and be mushed by the two tall boys arguing over you, unable to flee the scene as they both have their hands on you. Again, you don’t hate it at all. You love them just as much as they love and adore you. They may be the school favorites; however, you are the most precious thing they wish to engage with and want to keep to themselves.

…But would it kill them to give you some room once in a while!?

Jesus, how am I gonna survive with these two…

requests/thirsts are open hehe~ 🧸

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heich0e · 4 months

Note

my liege… how would sukuna react to you flashing him in exchange for chores…

roommate sukuna is the BANE of your existence.

he eats the leftovers that you were saving in the fridge (no matter how many sticky notes threatening death and/or dismemberment you put on them.) he leaves the balcony door open when he goes out to smoke, and the smell takes forever to leave the living room on humid days. and that's to say nothing about the never ending parade of hookups he has coming in and out of the apartment like a revolving door.

but the worst part is he's not actually a slob or anything. he's competent and handles his shit for the most part (at least more than most guys his age do)—but GOD FORBID he ever do a chore that you're supposed to be responsible for.

so one day when you're just too exhausted to take the garbage out, even though you know you're supposed to, the opportunity presents itself.

"well, well," sukuna singsongs when he notices the garbage you've been staring at resentfully for the past half an hour. you can tell he's overjoyed to have discovered a chore you didn't complete—as you often do to him—and point out that you've yet to take care of it. he leans over the back of the sofa where you're laying with a smug expression on his face. "you're gonna miss the garbage room being unlocked if you don't hurry up, y'know. the super'll lecture you if he has to unlock it outside of designated hours."

"the super loves me," you reply shortly as you glare up at him in annoyance. and it's true—the middle aged man who manages your apartment building has always been very sweet to you. "he lets me get away with anything."

sukuna snorts.

"i'd let you get away with anything too if you let me stare at your tits all the time without calling me out for it."

and that's when it hits you.

"hey," you sit straight up on the sofa, so quickly the crown of your head nearly hits your roommate like an uppercut. sukuna narrowly dodges away before the blow can strike.

"what?" he asks you, somewhat mistrustfully—suspicious of how you're staring at him.

"if i showed you, would you take the trash out?"

sukuna's lip lifts in a sneer. "i know where the fuckin' garbage room i—"

"no, i mean my tits."

and for the first time in possibly all of recorded human history (or at least his 20-something years of it) sukuna is left speechless.

but only for a moment.

as quickly as the look of surprise appears on his face it's replaced by something far more calculating—palpably more sly—as his lips curve in a smirk.

"depends," he says, kissing the back of his teeth like he's mulling the idea over. "if i take the recyclables too, do i get to touch?"

#liv got mail #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk drabble #jjk writing #writing

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awrkive · 11 days

Text

THE LOVE PROGNOSIS, pt. 2 — JJK (m.)

for as long as you can remember, you’ve always been a hopeless romantic.

the girl who’s always dreamt of cheesy encounters with her soulmate, grand love declarations, and a cute little beach wedding to boot. but reality pretty much slaps you hard right on the face, because love, unfortunately, doesn’t come grand — it’s simple and it’s quiet, but it is quite painful, especially when the love that you’ve been seeking for all your adult life has just been right under your nose all this time.

PAIRING jungkook x female reader // mingyu x female reader

GENRE r18+ (angst, fluff, smut) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

CHAPTER WORD COUNT 27.5k

CHAPTER WARNINGS/MISC medical!au, roommates!au, surgeon!jk, surgeon!reader (they are both 4th year residents and are co-workers), corporate lawyer!mingyu, oc and jk are bffs since med school but their love language is fighting each other <3, jk and mingyu are bffs during undergrad, hopeless romantic!oc. shirtless jk in almost every scene ijbol he needs to get locked up, jk thigh tattoo 😔 a dash of sexual themes (ie: making out, grinding) and violence, this is pretty much MED SCHOOL LORE GALORE bcs boy, was there so much history mentioned here, 3/4 of this is in jk pov, so ladies.... prepare yourselves 🤔so much fluff, and we counter that with not major but not minor either ANGST, so many conversations and dialogues in this one lol, this hopefully offers every answer youre looking for from part one, when ur done reading the chapter this is how the keyring looks like

NOTES hi!! this chapter was supposed to be longer but i was like.. fuck that 😭 its getting too long. anyway. hope u guys enjoy this one!! this is my most favorite thing ive ever written i think n im weirdly very proud of this one idk. scream into my inbox and the reply section if u have #thoughtss 😄😄 [ important: pls make sure to read the note below ]

[ TLP MOODBOARD ] // [ SPOTIFY PLAYLIST ]

PART ONE | TWO | THREE

You take your sweet time trying to right your wrongs.

After that day, you were the one to initiate a call with Mingyu which he answered thankfully (you were a little skeptical about him calling you that night). You went over to his place after your shift, apologizing to him for lying about your roommate situation. Admittedly, Mingyu still doesn’t seem to be wholly okay with it – but he doesn’t really say anything more about it. He kissed you better that night, his lips making you forget all about the stress that you’ve went through for the day, convincing you to stay over.

The night bled into two when he said he couldn’t let you go. Mingyu was persistent and you were unwilling to go in the first place. Partly because who didn’t want to spend more time with their significant other? But it’s also because of a certain someone that is no other than Jeon Jungkook.

Those two nights are going on four – which means that you’ve been avoiding Jungkook for the past three days now.

It doesn’t seem like a difficult task though because Jungkook seems to be doing the same. That was your hunch. He replies to you with dry-ass “okay”s when you text him about not going home because you’re staying at Mingyu’s. Nothing more, and nothing less.

Which is unusual of him. Sure, in your almost decade-long friendship, you’ve fought a bunch of times. But it usually gets resolved in a day or two. And Jungkook wasn’t ever cold like he is right now.

See, the regular Jungkook would find you anywhere on your floor at the hospital just to annoy you. When your time allows it, you eat together with your friends at lunch.

But now, he seems to always have something to do – which, okay, fair. He’s a surgeon, after all. But he doesn’t even spare you a glance whenever you two meet halfway in the hallways. Yesterday, you coincidentally scrubbed in together for the same surgery but he did not say a word to you other than, “Scalpel”.

The rest of your friends are already asking about it. Doyeon told you he had lunch with Jungkook this afternoon, but when she mentioned that maybe you were free to go with them, Jungkook suddenly had to look over a patient’s chart.

It’s not just a hunch anymore. He really is avoiding you.

And to be honest, you’re tired of the whole pussyfooting around. He’s being childish – and you’ll be the better person to come and talk to him about it. Granted, you’re three days late. But at least you’re doing it.

You texted Mingyu earlier this afternoon that you’re coming home to your apartment tonight. He was bummed about it, you could feel it through his message, nonetheless he replied saying he’ll miss you, which put a smile to your tired face from work.

When you went home from your shift at 9pm, Jungkook wasn’t anywhere in the house. Which was a shame – because you were planning to talk to him.

Well. Maybe you’d wait for him.

But it seemed like you underestimated your exhaustion for the day because as soon you finished showering, dressing yourself with your bed clothes which consists of comfortable flimsy camisole and panty shorts, you went straight to bed and passed out – forgetting about Jungkook.

It’s past 2 am when you feel yourself waking up from your deep slumber, stomach grumbling at the emptiness, and you realize you did not only forget about waiting for Jungkook but also about eating dinner.

Walking out of your room, you head straight to the kitchen where you immediately go to open the refrigerator to see if there’s something in it you can consume. There are boxes of Chinese food take-out which makes your eyes light up. When you open to smell them, it seems that they’re still new.

You deduce it must be Jungkook’s.

That gives you the predicament of whether you should eat it or not. You take you’re not exactly on good terms as of the moment – therefore you can’t eat his food. But you’re really hungry.

Throwing away your inhibitions, you open one of the boxes, not even bothering to heat the food.

“Hey,”

You almost jump upon hearing another voice. Looking to your side, you see Jungkook approaching, with only his boxers on, upper half naked.

“H-hey,” you say, pursing your lips into a thin line. “Are these yours?” You point to the take-out box in your hand.

Jungkook nods and heads straight to your direction. Taking one of the boxes, he hauls himself to the kitchen island, twisting his body so that he can face you.

“Yep.” he responds, dipping his fingers inside the box and taking out strands of noodles from it.

You wince at the sight. “Look like worms.”

“Just like worms.” Jungkook grins, chewing on them in that obnoxious way because he knows you don’t like noisy eaters.

Frowning, you decide to follow him to the island and haul yourself on top of it as well, sitting beside him. Jungkook scoots to the side to give you more room.

“It’s kind of like eating naengmyeon, I don’t like naengmyeon.” You tell him, opening another box and feeling delighted to see untouched stir-fried rice. “Did you just buy this earlier?”

Jungkook nods. “Left them in the fridge when I realized I wasn’t too hungry.”

“Then you woke up feeling hungry?” You smile at him.

He chuckles. “Yeah. When did you get off work?”

“Nine. You?”

“Twelve am.”

You grimace at that, but nod in understanding.

There’s a beat of silence before Jungkook speaks up again.

“Didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”

“Just wanted to remind you I’m still your housemate…” you joke, brushing your elbow against his arm in a teasing manner.

Jungkook laughs as he shakes his head. He picks up another batch of noodles in his fingers and then offers it to you, prompting you to arch your brow at him. “Try it.”

You shake your head. “I hate cold noodles.”

“Just try,” He insists, placing it closer to your face. You scrunch your nose, skeptical. It makes Jungkook chuckle lowly. “Head back.”

Hesitantly, you tilt your head back and open your mouth as Jungkook puts the noodles inside it. You almost choke on it when Jungkook laughs mid-way, making you laugh as well, but thankfully, you were able to chew all of them just fine.

“What the fuck.” You frown, slapping his arm good-naturedly.

“Wasn’t so bad, huh?”

“It was bad.” You say, going back to eating your fried rice. Jungkook gives you a look that says he’s not convinced. Looking at his face, you roll your eyes, “It’s like eating–” you stop mid-sentence as Jungkook quickly wipes off something on the side of your lips. It’s so quick though that you brush it off just as instantly and continue, “—literal worms.”

“Imagine if worms tasted like noodles. Wouldn’t that be sick as hell?” Jungkook muses, stretching his arm over you to reach for another take-out box on the counter. It’s so sudden that your immediate reflex was to stretch your upper body backwards, feeling a little taken aback when Jungkook’s face gets a little too close to your stomach, with his arm rubbing over your bare thighs.

He seems like it doesn’t move him, though. Just goes back to his position casually and opens another box. As he does, you can’t help but take a quick look at his bulging thighs, the short length of his boxers letting you get a brief view of the tattoo that peeks out of the expanse of his skin. You’ve seen that before many times, but not the entirety – of course not. It looks like it goes up from way above. Anyway, it’s sort of like a flower, but you’re not sure. You never really asked him about it. He never brings it up either.

“Oh, man, the dumplings got cold.” Jungkook picks inside his box as if he’d miraculously find one that’s not cold.

You roll your eyes at his antics. “You stored them in the fridge for like how many hours now?”

Ignoring you, Jungkook takes out one dumpling, trying to eat it, and you watch as he visibly winces. In a moment, he shoots one straight to the trash bin across from you.

“Oh, that’s real mature.” You say dryly.

With that, Jungkook throws another one, giving you a cheeky grin when it lands in the bin successfully for the second time.

Pursing your lips, you sarcastically say, “Wow. Two points to Xavier from Jeon Jungkook.”

That makes Jungkook look at you instantly.

“How the hell do you know that?” He gives you a look of confusion but there’s amusement written all over his face at the same time.

“Well… Mingyu told me you both played for the basketball varsity team back in undergrad, so,”

Jungkook stops. There’s look of something in his eyes that you can’t quite point out, but then suddenly, he nods.

“He told you how good I was?” He says with a teasing tone, a contrast to his sudden and quick drop of mood a few seconds ago.

You throw him a tissue. “Don’t be cocky. He just mentioned it.”

“I was captain. Two-time MOP, 2018 and 2019 NCAA Men’s Basketball Tournament.”

You look at him with silent reverence. Well, Mingyu didn’t tell you all that, that’s for sure. It’s a bit surreal to picture Jungkook wearing a basketball uniform, though. You’re so used to seeing him in scrubs and lab gown and his usual casual, occasionally suits when you attend formal conferences. You’ve only ever seen him sweat it out whenever he works out in the living room.

“Impressive.” You say. Jungkook grins proudly. “It’s strange I only know about it now, though.”

“You never asked.” He shrugs. “What ‘bout you? I only know you’re little miss summa cum laude.”

Huffing, you jab at his arm when he mentions it, rolling your eyes at him which only earns you a chuckle. Regardless, you tell him, “2018 NCA College Nationals. We won Coed Division One.”

Jungkook arches a brow. “NCA… National Cheerleading Association?” You nod, eating from your take-out box so as to avoid Jungkook’s look after you do so.

“No fucking way,” He says incredulously. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” You bite your lip to keep yourself from smiling too much. You never really get to share this part about you with a lot of people. To quote Jungkook, they never ask. It’s funny when they do get surprised by it though, like he is now. When Jungkook stares at you – you don’t know if it’s just in disbelief – longer than necessary, you realize he’s staring at your face and that makes you consciously fix a strand of hair behind your ear. “Go big blue, go big blue, show ‘em what wildcats can do.” You sing a in fast tempo, chuckling about how silly it sounds.

Jungkook utters a sound of amusement. “That’s… wow. Right now, I’m just picturing you cheering but it’s a bit hazy and shit.”

“You’re saying you can’t picture me cheering?” You playfully accuse, but you know exactly what he meant. Even you still don’t believe that you actually did cheer in undergrad. When you signed up for it, it was just because you had to choose a club, and you weren’t interested in anything other than that. You thought cheering would be fun and it was fun.

“No, I’m just—” Jungkook cuts himself off and looks at you. “Okay, now I totally deserve a cheer for that two-point shot I made just now.”

You laugh loudly at that. Covering your mouth, you look at him to see if he’s joking but he seems to be serious.

“No.” You say, your eyes widening, body stiffening.

“Come on,” Jungkook chuckles.

You roll your eyes. “You have to do more than a two-point shot to get a cheer.”

“Okay, what do you want me to do?” Jungkook eagerly presents a challange. You stifle a laugh when he gears up for something. “I can shoot dumplings further from here with my left hand.”

“Ten feet away,” You muse, giggling when Jungkook suddenly gets off the counter, carrying the box of dumplings, and positions himself further away from you. Laughing, you shake your head before you say, “You can’t do it.”

“Try me.” He says as he begins to pick out a dumpling and concentrate on the trash can. Before he shoots, he tells you, “This one’s for you.”

You watch as the dumpling misses the bin.

Jungkook beats you to speaking first. “I admit. I’m a bit rusty.”

Sneering, you eat your fried rice, not straying your eyes from him. “You have to shoot, like, three dumplings.”

“That was a trial shot.” he insists, eyeing you playfully, before he gears up for another again. You watch closely when he makes a move to shoot another dumpling.

It goes in. Jungkook smirks at you when you look at him, impressed.

“Not bad.” You cock your head to the side.

“Tss.” He shoots another shot again and it’s successful for the second time. “That’s two.” Jungkook shows you his fingers and you chuckle at his enthusiasm.

“Let’s see if you can get the third.”

Jungkook nods, and you cover a snicker again at the way his stance suddenly turns serious, as if he’s really taking the whole thing seriously.

In a few seconds, he shoots the last dumpling straight to the bin just as successfully as the last time.

“What did I say?” Jungkook brags as he goes over to the island across from you, sitting on the high chairs this time. You turn your body to look at him, containing your smile. “Your turn now.” Jungkook says with a smirk.

Your purse your lips. “I’m a bit rusty.”

“So was I!” Jungkook claims which prompts a chuckle from you.

You look at him for a while, unsure. You close your eyes, bobbing your head side to side, covering your face as you suddenly feel a sense of embarrassment at the thought of dancing in front of him.

“Promise you won’t laugh?” You say after Jungkook tries to remove your hands off your face.

He raises his right hand and fixes his sitting posture upright. “Promise.”

“If you show your teeth I’ll stop and so will this friendship.” You threaten as you bring your legs over the island to his direction.

Jungkook chuckles while saying a series of “Yeah”s, holding your hand to help you hop off the counter safely.

You take a few quick strides to place yourself in the space between your counter and dining area and look at Jungkook who settles himself comfortably in the kitchen island chair, watching you with relaxed position and crossed arms.

Feeling uncharacteristically shy, you stand upright, suddenly aware that you’re only wearing a pair of panty shorts and a fitted camisole. You don’t work out so you’re a bit conscious in front of Jungkook who looks really good in his natural form. You don’t even understand how he finds time to go to the gym or do his little work-out sesh during some nights or weekends, but you shake away the thought and smile at him coyly. He has the better body, sure, but you know well enough he’ll never judge you for yours… besides, it’s just Jungkook. He makes you feel safe and secure, no matter the context of the situation.

Off the top of your head, you do whatever it is you remember from your college routines and begin your yell.

“Wildcats, get up and shout! We’re the team that’s gonna take it out! Give it all you’ve got, let’s hear you roar!” You chuckle mid-way, forgetting a step. “Sorry,” you apologize quickly, but then continue right away, trapping your bottom lip with your teeth to prevent yourself from completely losing it. “We’re the Wildcats, and we’re here to score! Go Big Blue! Go Big Blue—" You make a mistake again and skip a beat with your finger snaps, and when you look at Jungkook, you can’t help but give in to the laughter that’s been bubbling up inside you. “I can’t do it!” You say, cutting your “performance” short.

“What? It was good!” Jungkook says, encouraging you to continue further.

You stifle a laugh as you go back to the top again but then your mind forgets the next step and you’re messing up the choreography again. At that point, you start mindlessly cheering; jumping around and flapping your arms to make it look like somewhat of a cheer but none of the coordination. You know it looks messy, so you run over to Jungkook shamefully, plopping on the chair beside him. Bringing your legs up to the seat and covering your face in your thighs, you can’t help but giggle in embarrassment.

“Woah,” Jungkook says, but you can say there’s a hint of laughter in his tone. You know it’s not out of mockery when he lifts your head up and boop your nose. “That was cute. Best cheer I’ve ever seen.”

“You’re pushing it.” You hiss, kicking his knee slightly.

Jungkook captures your leg, and you squeal when he pinches your thigh. You both laugh at that and you thought Jungkook’s gonna let go of your leg but he keeps it on his lap.

“My stomach hurts from laughing.” You tell him, taking a deep breath, trying to regulate your heart. Everything feels funny. Your cheer was funny. You must’ve looked so stupid.

Jungkook chuckles. “Wildcats, get up and shout—”

“Jungkook!” You cut him off, removing your leg from his lap to kick him again on the thigh this time. That only prompts him to laugh louder.

When the high of the moment fades, Jungkook looks over at you.

“Do you feel sleepy?”

You shake your head. “Not really. At least not yet.”

He hums, and then takes your box of fried rice to eat from it.

There’s the silence again, but it’s quiet and comfortable. No weird tension sitting in the air.

“Jungkook,” You call him after a while.

“Hm.”

You clear your throat. “I meant to talk to you,” Jungkook stops eating and looks at you to acknowledge you. “I’m sorry.”

He stares at you for a moment. Then, he chuckles, shaking his head. “You know what’s funny? I was gonna talk to you yesterday to say I’m sorry but then you didn’t talk to me at all in the OR. I thought you were still mad at me.”

With furrowed brows, you tell him, “I thought you were mad at me. You only said “scalpel” in the OR and then that was it. No hi’s or hello’s in the hallways for the past three days.”

“Me? Mad at you?” He says, as if he can’t believe you would even think that. “I mean, you piss me off sometimes, but I don’t think I was ever mad at you.” You pout. Jungkook smiles. “I can never be mad at you,” His look is gentle and warm that you feel a little flustered for a reason unknown. It just ticks a little something in your brain, tugging something at your heart. Then, Jungkook sighs. “I’m sorry, too. For the way I went about it. The “bringing boys here” comment was out of line.”

There’s a wince on your face when you hear that.

That comment did hurt a little.

But you know it was just a heat-in-the-moment type of thing, and he just wasn’t able to think through his words well enough when he was… well, pissed – and rightfully so. Because you did something offensive to him, and you can’t blame him for feeling the way he felt.

You nod at Jungkook. “Thank you for saying that. I’m saying sorry because I realized what you said. I should’ve informed you I was bringing Mingyu home, and I should’ve told him about you being my roommate. We really could’ve avoided that situation.”

“You can just tell me beforehand if you’re bringing him to our place.” Jungkook shrugs.

You chuckle. “No. That won’t happen again.” And it’s true. It’s awkward and it’s rude when you have a roommate.

Jungkook looks at you. “Okay. I won’t do it as well,” You shake your head, playfully rolling your eyes at him. “I’m guessing you settled it pretty quickly with him?” He gestures at your neck and you realize he’s referring to the necklace you’re wearing – the one Mingyu gave you the very same day you fought.

You want to point out it’s not really new, but you settle with, “Yeah. Fortunately.” as a response.

“I really am sorry for what happened.” Jungkook says and you can feel the sincerity in his voice.

“It’s fine,” Touching his arm, you give him a small smile. “Have you and Mingyu talked?”

Jungkook shakes his head. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you think about how that’s… not good. They were friends before you and have just met each other again after so many years – you do not want to be that kind of person who gets in the way of some other people’s relationship.

And you really can’t have Jungkook not liking your boyfriend or your boyfriend not liking Jungkook, either.

But as much as you want to suggest that they talk it out, you know you can’t. Besides, you trust that they eventually will. They’re grown men.

“So…” you trail off. “Are we okay?”

Jungkook’s lips tilt upwards. “Are we okay?”

“Come on,” you roll your eyes. “Do we hug it out or like – I don’t know – handshake on it?”

“Let’s hug it out like we’re twelve.” Jungkook grins and in a moment, he scoots closer to you and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his head on your chest.

The angle is a bit awkward with Jungkook crouching too much you don’t doubt his position is anything but comfortable, but it works, and it gives you the opportunity to pat his head as you say, “I missed hanging out with you, buddy.”

“Can’t say the same thing.”

That earns him a slight pinch to the ear easily accessible to you.

“Ow!” Jungkook says and then add, “I hate to ruin the moment but… you’re not wearing a bra.”

You quickly grab both sides of his head to get him off your chest. He comes back sitting upright on his chair, laughing.

“Fuck off—” you flip him off and then look over your box of fried rice, but then you remember he was also eating it earlier. “You ate all of it!”

“Finders keepers.”

“I hate you.”

“Hm.”

You shake your head, standing up and starting to grab all the boxes to take them to the trash bin.

“By the way, I just got my approval from HR for our trip the next two weeks. Have you?” You ask him across the room. You can see Jungkook’s face light up at the mention.

“Yeah, of course. Got approved yesterday.” Jungkook grins. You watch as he stares at you a bit longer, his face showing a hint of confusion.

You arch a brow. “Why does your face look like that?” Jungkook shakes his head, obviously ready to dismiss it. But you’re persistent. “What is it?” You say, walking towards his direction and stopping in front of him.

“Nothing…” he trails off. Then he rubs the back of his head. “I just really thought that you…” You squint your eyes at him. Then he chuckles lightly and swipes his fingers through his hair. “I just thought the trip would be cancelled.”

Your eyebrows furrow. Frowning, you nudge at him. “What? Of course, not! We planned that trip like six months ago. I’m not backing out.”

Jungkook gives you a shy smile.

“Okay.”

You can’t help it. You bring your hands to his cheeks and pinch them.

“He’s so excited for his birthday trip!” You say, intentionally talking like you would to a toddler.

Jungkook predictably forces your hands out of his skin and holds your wrist a bit tight as he rolls his eyes at you.

“Knock it off.” He glares at you. But you’re not done with your fun, so you poke your finger to his waist, knowing that’s his weak spot, and tease him some more. “Seriously.” Jungkook huffs out and your laughter becomes louder because he looks like a grumpy child right now.

“Sorry.” you say, still giggling. He furrows his brows, and you can’t help it, you poke at his waist again. When you do it, though, Jungkook captures your wrist, effectively stopping another one of your juvenile assaults. Suddenly, you start noting the mirth in his eyes.

You’ve seen that look before and it always ends up with you almost dying from too much laughter because he always—

“You’re gonna regret that.”

You let out a squeal as Jungkook takes ahold of your waist, and before you can even voice out a protest, he easily hoists you up against his body, bouncing you up until you're hanging around his shoulder like a sack bag.

“What the hell, put me down, you prick!” You complain, slapping the rugged muscles on his back. But Jungkook just responds with a series of clicks of his tongue, carrying you across the living room.

You know he’s about to put you on the couch to tickle you to death, so you do what you could and bite down on the skin of his back.

“Ouch!” Jungkook immediately reacts, stumbling a little in his stride. You snort at that, but you immediately frown when you feel a slap to your ass.

“You asshole!”

“You just lowered your chances of being spared,” Was his last words before you feel yourself getting put down on the surface of the sofa. Soon after, Jungkook’s poking his fingers to your waist and stomach, prompting you to erupt in fits of giggles and laughter, thrashing beneath him like a caged animal.

“Pl—stop—oh my god!” You say, weakly reaching for his arms. When Jungkook doesn’t relent, you continue wriggling under him, laughing and choking, saying a variety of, “Stop! I’m —” giggle, “gonna—” then another snort, “—die!”

Jungkook chuckles. He torments you some more before finally stopping his fingers in their ministrations.

“You deserve that.” Jungkook says when you both came down from the high, laughing at the messy state of your hair and the way you try to catch your breath like you just ran a triathlon.

You breathe in and out deeply, clutching your stomach that still hurts from laughing.

“Fuck you.” You hiss, giving him the finger.

Jungkook bursts into laughter, and from his position in between your legs, he lets himself fall on top of you.

“Jungkook, no!” Pushing him off you, you try to get away from him but the goof just forces himself beside you instead, sticking his much bigger build in between you and the back of the couch. It makes you scoot near the edge as a result, and you hold onto his arm so that you don’t fall off, tangling your leg against his own for added support. Pinching his waist in which he lets out an ingenuine “Owe!” to, you face him as you say, “You are so annoying.”

Jungkook just gives you a shit-eating grin. “Who started it?”

“You almost killed me.” You say dryly.

“Don’t be dramatic.” He rolls his eyes.

Suddenly, you realize the position you are both in.

Your bare legs are intermingled against each other, Jungkook has one arm wrapped around your waist, and from the lack of clothes on both sides, you can feel pretty much everything.

There’s a weird feeling in the pit of your stomach upon the epiphany.

Jungkook’s looking at you with a playful grin, but as he notices you staring at him, he stills. From such close proximity, you can almost trace out the lines of his features. The scar on his cheek, the mole under his lip, and the pimple scar that was probably from a week ago. At that thought, you think about: if you can see him so close like this, he can also probably see you, and that’s when you break away from the contact.

“Shit.” You hiss as you let yourself fall off the floor by rolling around, away from his hold and touch and him in general.

Jungkook immediately scoots to the edge of the sofa to look down at you with confused eyes. “The hell?”

“Don’t worry,” you wave your hand at him.

He snorts. “Did you just fall?”

You roll your eyes. Of course, he’d think that. But you let him, standing up from the floor.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.”

You hear Jungkook’s boisterous laughter as you walk towards the kitchen again, stopping in front of the fridge to get some water.

“You’re going to bed now?” Asks Jungkook, following you to the fridge and mirroring your activity.

Nodding at his question, you peer from the rim of the glass as you answer, “Yeah, I don’t want to be sleeping at the hospital later.”

“Fair.”

Soon after, you both decided to clean up a bit in the kitchen and when you finished, you two headed towards the direction of your bedrooms. It’s located just near the kitchen, with the doors located beside each other.

When you turn the knob open to your own door, Jungkook calls you, catching your attention.

You arch a brow at him, waiting.

“Good night,” Jungkook says. You drop your kitted brows and smile. You’re about to greet him the same but then he adds, “Also– that was a really great cheer.”

“Ugh, Jungkook!”

You look across the bed to see Mingyu still on his laptop on his worktable, working on something. An hour and thirty minutes have passed since you arrived at his place, but you’re still not getting the least bit of attention from him.

You get it, it’s work, but he asked you to come over… isn’t it only fair to expect a little bit of something?

Getting up from the bed, you trudge over to his direction.

“Hi,” you say, ducking down to wrap your arms around his neck from the back of his swivel chair and kissing the spot below his ear.

“Hi,” Mingyu meets the kiss you give him on the lips. He reaches for your hands resting on top of chest and holds it there, looking at you. You delight at the hint of attention. “I’ll just be in a few minutes. You’re staying, right?”

You grin. “Of course.”

“Good.”

Rolling your eyes, you take your hands off him and stand upright once again. Mingyu rotates his chair so he can look at you with his undivided attention, voicing out a low whistle when he takes in your outfit – or lack of it thereof.

You arch a brow, knowing well he’s ogling you only in your bra and panties, squinting your eyes at him. Slowly, you glide your leg over his waist and plop yourself down on his lap, waiting for any protest from him. It doesn’t come, and so you give him a grin before planting your lips against his.

The kiss turns heated in a matter of seconds, with Mingyu squeezing over your bra and taking in your soft moans against his mouth, feeling the delicious roll of your hips against his crotch where you feel a semi growing already.

“Sweetheart,” Mingyu grunts. When you don’t answer that, he cups your jaw, making you look at him. “__.”

“What?” You say, more like a whine, looking at him with hooded eyes. You’re starting to feel sticky in your underwear and you need him to do something about it.

“Not now, sweetheart. I told you, I’m working.”

You frown. There’s a beat of silence before you let out a sigh. “Okay.” You say, getting off his lap.

“I’ll take care of you when I’m done.” He promises, taking ahold of your wrist, looking up at you.

Pursing your lips, you look away. “It’s fine.” When Mingyu lets go, you look at the direction of the bathroom. “I’m gonna take a shower,” you tell him. “You’re free to join me if you want or whatever.”

You know he can’t and that he won’t.

“Alright.” Was the last thing you heard before you walked towards the bathroom door.

You’ve been over at his place too many times to count now, and you’re slowly building your shower essentials in his own bathroom. Your body wash, your face cream, your shampoo, your conditioner – even your moisturizer and your eye mask are already placed inside his bathroom cabinet.

As you step out of the shower box, all clean and fresh, you go over to the lavatory to brush your teeth. At the sight of both your cups sitting beside each other, you smile.

You look in the mirror – noting the way your lips can’t stop from curling up at the thoughts running inside your head.

Shaking them off, you grab Mingyu’s robe and put it over yourself, turning the knob around to step out of the bathroom.

You see Mingyu on his bed this time around, but his laptop’s still perched on his lap.

He looks up when he sees you. “Ready to sleep?”

You nod, feeling at home the way you automatically go towards his closet to pick out a shirt and some panties you left over the time.

As you’re in the process of dressing yourself, a phone’s ding rings in the room.

Looking at Mingyu, you watch as he checks his phone, assuming it came from him. When he puts it down, he looks at your plugged phone on the bedside table.

“What is it?” You ask, now properly dressed, walking to the bed.

You note the way Mingyu’s gaze changes as he hands you your phone.

“It’s Jungkook.” He says with a weirdly clipped tone. Then another ding comes. A beat, and then your phone rings.

Your brow shoots up, taking the device from him and checking it yourself.

Jungkook’s face is plastered over your screen – a picture of him wasted in his room two years ago, taken from your Thailand trip with the rest of your friends. He’s sleeping with his mouth open, shirtless in the middle of the hut, only covered up with his trunks. You remember setting it as his contact photo because it was funny back then. Jungkook hates the photo, and your friends always made fun of him for it.

Right now, though, it doesn’t feel the least bit funny. Not when Mingyu’s certainly saw it. Not when he looks a little put off as soon as he sees a glimpse of it when he was passing your phone to you.

“I’ll just answer this.” You say, standing from the bed again.

You don’t expect Mingyu to suddenly shoot you a question, “You can’t answer here?”

Brows knitting together, you give him an uncertain look. “It’s just Jungkook.”

“Yeah… so, why not here?”

You relent, seeing the point he’s trying to make. Plopping yourself on the bed again, you answer Jungkook’s call and put the phone over your ear.

“Jungkook,”

“__,” he sighs out your name, sounding relieved. “Thank fuck.”

“What’s wrong?” You ask, growing a bit concerned at his tone.

You can hear some shuffling from the other line as Jungkook tells you, “Did you see me with my pager in the locker room earlier?”

“Oh, uh… let me think…” you trail off, trying to remember the events earlier. As you do that, you notice Mingyu’s fingers trailing his hands to your bare legs, but you ignore it as you answer Jungkook, “I think I didn’t, yeah. I didn’t.” Jungkook hisses. “Did you check your car?” you ask, trying to help out.

“Already did. It’s not in there, either. I really think I accidentally threw it out in the bin along with some trash in my pockets.” He says, sounding a little distressed now.

“Well… you can always just go to the operator, you know? Get a new pager?” you offer. There’s a drop of kiss on your shoulder that makes you shudder, and you look at Mingyu with furrowed brows. He doesn’t say anything, though, just let his fingers trail upwards, his hand sliding under your shirt, gripping your thigh. Your boyfriend just gives you a sly smile, and you squint your eyes at him, confused at what he’s playing at.

“I know. But, ugh, you know I lost two pagers already this year. Sungkyun hates me at this point—”

Jungkook’s answer suddenly drowns out when Mingyu grazes his thumb on your clothed clit.

“Oh.”

“—what?” Jungkook halts, asking about your abrupt reaction.

You bite your lip in an effort to shut yourself up, and when Mingyu’s hand makes another move again, your free hand shoots up to stop him.

“Hold on a second, Jungkook,” you say, quickly pressing mute.

Mingyu looks at you with a smirk, playful smile painting his face. “You know you can continue, right?”

At that, your brows furrow even further.

“What are you doing?” You didn’t mean to sound curt but with the way Mingyu’s expression changes, it may have sounded that way.

You… couldn’t help it.

“I wanted to touch you,” Mingyu tells you after a beat of awkward silence. Then, his hand retreats to himself. “Do you not want to?”

There’s guilt that springs up inside you when you see the look on his face as he says those words.

“No, I’m sorry— it’s just… I want to. I just… not with somebody on the phone?” You put it out like a question, unsure of yourself.

The room is quiet for awhile and suddenly there’s a thick tension that hangs in the air.

You reach out for Mingyu but then drop your hand to your sides when he moves to sit on the edge of the bed.

He turns his head to you with an unreadable expression on his face. “Is it because it’s Jungkook?”

You frown at his tone.

It sounded accusatory.

“Excuse me?” You say, taking immediate offense. When Mingyu shrugs, you feel a bit of annoyance bubble up inside you. “I would’ve still stopped you if it was anybody else on the phone, Mingyu.” you say, tone firm and leveled.

“I’m sorry, then.”

But he definitely doesn’t sound like it. His sarcasm makes you snap. “What’s up with you?”

Mingyu opens his mouth to say something but then he closes it again. You watch him with confused eyes, completely at loss of context where he’s at. The night was going fine as usual and suddenly, there’s this.

After a few seconds, Mingyu sighs. “What are you even talking about right now?” He glances at your phone.

“It’s—” you take a glance at it too. “It’s just his pager.”

“Pager?”

“Yes.”

“He asks you about his pager in the middle of the night, knowing full well you’re with me?”

“I—” you stop yourself, words suddenly getting lost in your tongue. Not because you don’t know the answer to his question, but because you hate the way he phrased it – and honestly, you’re starting to feel icky about how he’s going with it. What was he trying to do? Pin you down with accusatory notions?

You don’t fucking get it. Jungkook’s his friend. It’s so bizarre to even think about how Mingyu is seemingly acting jealous over his supposed friend.

“You know what?” You say instead, not wanting to discuss it further with him anymore. It’s just gonna lead to an unnecessary fight – and frankly, you don’t want to deal with his jealousy. It seems so… futile. “Can we just sleep this whole thing off?”

Mingyu looks at you and for the first time, his eyes don’t look gentle. He looks at you with a bit of a frown, and you get it. You do. You’re not exactly happy, either. Not right now, with the way he’s acting.

“Do you want me to go?” You ask, ready to step out of bed.

“I didn’t tell you to.” Mingyu says, voice equally strained.

You sigh. “What do you want me to do, Mingyu? Are you jealous, is that it?” You meant it to be completely rhetorical, not at all expecting him to say anything.

But he answers instantly. “What if I say I am?”

Your lips part. You’re surprised at the confirmation, but you shake your thoughts off it.

“Then it’s completely unnecessary,” you tell him, as genuine as you can sound. When Mingyu doesn’t move in his position on the edge of the bed, you crawl towards him. Testing the waters, you touch his arm to see if he would avoid your touch, but when you do rest your hand on his shoulder, he doesn’t stray. “I like you, Gyu.”

Cocking your head to the side, you watch as his face still sports a cold expression. But he says, “I like you too, you know that,”

“But…?” you try to get out the words from him, because you knew there’s more.

“I don’t want you to think I’m being irrational about this whole thing,” he starts, and you nod your head, trying to show him that you get it. Mingyu licks his lips before he continues, “I just… I guess I just want you to put boundaries around your friendship with Jeon.”

That makes you stop. Nevermind the strange way he called Jungkook by his surname.

“How do you mean by that?” You ask with furrowed brows.

“You’re just really close with him. And you live in one apartment together.” He points out.

“Mingyu…” you say, suddenly feeling tired all over again. “I thought we already talked about that.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m a hundred percent comfortable with it, you know?”

It feels like you got electrocuted by his words the way you quickly retreat your hands. “That’s…” you trail off, not really knowing what to say.

Thankfully, though, Mingyu interjects before you can slip into a dilemma.

“I know, I know about why you’re living with him and all that stuff. We talked about it. It’s just…” he reaches for your hand. Entangling your fingers together, Mingyu brings your knuckles to his lips and presses a kiss there. “I want you all the time. And I guess I really am just jealous – even though it’s juvenile. I’m jealous that he’s known you far longer than me.”

“But— I’m here thrice a week. I make time for the both of us. And it doesn’t really matter how long you’ve known me for, Gyu,” you respond truthfully.

He nods.

“I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “No, I’m sorry. I guess I just— I got in way over my head that I also forgot to take your feelings into account,”

Mingyu smiles, and there goes his soft gentle expression again.

“I know. It’s fine. You don’t have anything to be sorry about. It’s me who’s being unreasonable.”

“No, it’s not unreasonable,” you tell him. “I get it. Boundaries, Mingyu. I know what you’re talking about.”

Mingyu scooches closer and presses a sweet kiss to your lips. You gladly bask in it, smiling against his lips, keeping your gentle gaze towards him as he breaks away.

“I’m sorry for being a bummer.”

You kiss him again and the way he inserts his tongue in your mouth distracts you a bit but you manage to break the contact. Soon, he’s lying down beside you and when you check your phone, your call with Jungkook has already ended, but there are two messages from him on your notifications.

[12:35am] jaykay🤠: are you still alive [12:38am] jaykay🤠: ok nevermind i’ll hang the call i actually found my pager just now 😭 [12:38am] jaykay🤠: it was in the kitchen counter LOL [12:45am] jaykay🤠: ok bye. night

You were going to reply but decide against it for some reason.

Putting your phone down to the bedside table, you follow Mingyu under the sheets and as usual, you face against his direction just like he does.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t really like cuddling that much. He’d share his space to a certain extent, just like how you got into his bed in the first place, but not the lengths of cuddling together in bed. Mingyu didn’t tell you why – and you don’t want to come off as clingy, so you don’t bother asking.

It’s strange, though. Now that he told you a while ago that he, apparently, “wants you all the time”. Shouldn’t he like to cuddle you in bed, then? But you don’t want to dwell in it too much, afraid that you may be digging yourself a hole if you were to keep it up.

As you lay your cheek on your folded hands, you play back the events of the night and think about how you’ve seen this film before.

When you were in med school, Eunwoo always had something to say about your friendship with Jungkook. He wasn’t direct with it, but with the way he never bothered to make friends with Jungkook or always had a grimace on his face when you mentioned him in passing, it was enough for you to conclude that Eunwoo was always… wary of Jungkook – and definitely in a jealous type of way.

He said almost the exact same thing as Mingyu – that boundaries should be built; that Jungkook and you are too close, why is he calling you in the middle of the night to ask about mundane things, why does he know too much about your mother’s preferences, and why is he buddy-buddy with your dad who otherwise always had an uninterested expression on his face?

It wasn’t even just Mingyu. Your past flings for the past four years you’ve been single always got put off when they heard that you’re rooming with a guy – even more so when you mention that he’s your bestfriend.

You’re not stupid to not see how it looks like from the outside perspective – and you’re not dense to not ever consider the possibility of something romantic brewing within the friendship. You have thought about it before – had an instant crush on him the first time you met at the law library back in post grad school. But it was fleeting at best, especially when Eunwoo came into your life a few weeks later.

Nayeon, Doyeon, and Taehyung have also hinted at it. Sometimes – most of the time, really, teasing you two, especially Taehyung. Even the most mature one among your friends – Yoongi – once told you both to get married at forty. He was joking, though he looked way too serious for someone who was just supposed to be joking.

And there was that one dreadful time in third year of med school when Jungkook almost kissed you.

You buried that memory in the very depths of your mind – not ever wanting to revisit it again. It was a bad time, and it was just not a good thing to look back at. Jungkook acted irresponsible, and you stupidly let yourself be complicit in it, even though you knew better.

Nothing even happened – but that memory was just that. A mere memory. You doubt Jungkook even remembers that himself.

Here’s the thing: you’ve just never seen Jungkook past the person you consider as a friend. You’ve never been weird about the women he dated – or if he dated, at all. He’s also always been supportive of your relationships… as far as you’re concerned. Regardless of what everybody says, you both seem to agree that you’re just better off as friends. You work better that way.

Jungkook’s a good guy, though. He does have tons of flings – but he’s just conventionally attractive and works hard for a body that is to die for. Women like that. Additionally, he has a stable job and even though he annoys you about splitting the delivery fee when you do take-out, he’s actually quite rich – or, his family is – he’d always insist.

You get it though. As a co-resident, you both don’t really make that much (for the work that you do) – at least not yet.

But he was indeed born in generational wealth, coming from a family of doctors, which is why it’s quite impressive that he knows how to handle his life by his own hard work. His intelligence and perseverance are some of the things you admire about him, his drive to make a name for himself and never leeching off his family’s name. Jungkook doesn’t ever brag about how his neurosurgeon dad is one of the best in the country and how his mom is a legend in cardiac surgery – even though sometimes, he could use it a little. He’s playful yet charming; quiet when you’re just knowing him, but he’ll eventually talk a lot when you get close.

As a friend, he’s quite the best you’ve ever had.

And even though you don’t really see him past that, you know in your heart that whoever ends up with him romantically will be a very lucky person.

“You’re a pussy.”

“Doyeon.”

Doyeon huffs, rolling her eyes so hard at Taehyung’s reprimand and then goes back to glaring at Jungkook again who just looks at her with a pathetic expression.

“What? I’m right. He’s a pussy and you’re an even bigger pussy for defending him being a pussy.” She says, furrowing her eyebrows angrily.

“Why are we talking about pussies?”

Nayeon suddenly enters the on-call room and Jungkook nearly has a heart attack.

“What the hell, you should at least knock. Jesus.” Jungkook says, clutching his chest, looking at Nayeon with an almost offended expression who closes the door behind her.

“Were you scared it was __? See!” Doyeon sighs out in frustration. “Such a fucking pussy.”

“Such a fucking pussy,” Jungkook mocks, using a higher pitch to imitate Doyeon poorly.

“And a child too.” She rolls her eyes and throws him a pillow. It misses Jungkook and hits Taehyung instead.

“Seriously, what are you so mad about today? You have that mood. Did you and your secret boyfriend fight?” Taehyung spits out.

Everybody stills in the room when Doyeon gives him a sharp glare. That pretty much makes everyone shut up, especially Taehyung who makes a show of physically zipping his mouth.

Nayeon fakes a cough and trudges towards Jungkook sitting on one of the beds. She throws her heavy hands on his shoulders, more like slaps, and then looks at Doyeon as she asks, “What are we calling this man a pussy for?”

“Oh, ask him. Or his dumber best friend.” Doyeon rolls his eyes and looks at Taehyung, crossing her arms and leaning her back on the chair she’s sitting on from across the room.

“You’re starting to hurt my feelings and I hate you.” Taehyung says from the other bed.

“Why?” Nayeon ignores their banter and furrows her brows at Jungkook curiously.

Jungkook hisses under his breath. “It’s nothing. She calls me a pussy for literally everything.”

Doyeon butts in. “Yeah, are you gonna cry?”

“If __ was here, she’s gonna be on my side, you know that?” Jungkook rebuts.

“If __ was here, you’d be panicking because she’ll know about your little secret.”

“Oof.” Taehyung comments.

“Oh, Jungkookie…” Nayeon looks down at him with worried eyes. When he looks up with a sad look, she starts rubbing his shoulders as some sort of comfort, already knowing about what this might be about. “This is about… the thing?”

He nods weakly. “Yes. And no. Uh, well, this is… you know about the birthday trip in the next five days, right? So, she asked me if she could bring, uh, Mingyu along.”

“Oh.” Nayeon utters, looking at Doyeon for confirmation.

Doyeon nods, and then nags, “Ask him what he said.”

Nayeon looks at him. “What did you say?”

“I said yes.”

“Oh.”

Jungkook looks down in slight shame at Nayeon’s reaction. She completely stops her hands’ ministrations on his shoulder, indicating that even she could not believe what he just did.

This makes Jungkook even feel worse.

Leaning his elbow on his thighs, he runs his fingers through his hair as he says, “I mean, how could I have said no? I would’ve looked like an asshole. Besides, Mingyu and I are college friends. There’s no reason for me to prohibit him from this trip. Like, at all.”

“Yeah, you and Mingyu are college friends but, ultimately, it’s our trip, right? __ would’ve understood if you said no.” Doyeon says, still not over her justification from a while ago.

“I know, I know. But still… I didn’t want to say no to her.” Jungkook tells Doyeon, not having a lot to say more than that.

It’s the plain truth, anyway. He truly, simply does not want to say no to you. Not ever.

“But Jungkook…” Nayeon interrupts. “Would it be okay for you? We know how you feel about the whole – er – Mingyu thing. Can you really take them being close together? Especially on a trip for your birthday?”

Though Nayeon’s voice is soft and her gaze gentle, her words hit him like a ton of bricks.

Truthfully, he doesn’t know what to feel about the whole thing. You dating Mingyu is one thing, but you bringing him along on your trips is another. It means that he’s it.

That you’re getting serious.

He hates himself for hating the idea. Jungkook’s always wanted to be nothing but supportive of you. He’d done it perfectly well with Eunwoo before, and your flings in the past four years have never upgraded past to being solely flings so he never worried about them, but now with Mingyu… it’s hard to pretend like it’s not killing him when you talk about how much you like him.

You have that lovestruck look on your face when Mingyu comes up in a conversation. For the first time in a while, you look genuinely happy. Jungkook always thought that your feelings for Eunwoo still lingered over the past few years – and how could it not, when you were literally engaged to him for a year? You told him one time that he may have been your greatest love… and he fears that it might be the same with Mingyu.

Where does that exactly leave him?

“What I think doesn’t really matter. And it’s just for week.” he murmurs, but the others hear it anyway.

“An excruciating week, you mean.” Doyeon says. She stands up from her chair. “You know what, I’m over this whole thing. I’ve witnessed you pine over her for whole eight years – and I’m just – I’m moving on from this. And I have a surgery. I’m going out.”

Jungkook grimaces when Doyeon heads towards the door.

“Doyeon, don’t be mean to Jungkook. He’s trying his best, you know? The timing is just not right and—”

“What timing?”

As soon as Doyeon twisted the doorknob, pulling the door open to completely head out, you came barging in, cutting off Nayeon’s words.

Her eyes widen a little at your sudden arrival. And Jungkook scrambles to think of an effort to swerve the subject, but Taehyung beats him to it.

“__, heyyy,” he prolongs the word quite unnaturally, chuckling at the end of it for no reason. Jungkook internally notes to tell him later never dare try to save anything ever again.

That makes you furrow your brows in confusion. Directing your look to Doyeon who stopped on her tracks, you ask her instead, “What’s going on? What about Jungkook trying his best?”

Doyeon looks at Jungkook and then you. You wait, but then she just rolls her eyes – just completely done about the whole thing. Like she said earlier.

“He’s trying his best not to be a pussy – well, allegedly.” At that, she goes out of the room, ignoring your calls to pull her back in.

“Uh… I think I have a surgery in twenty. See you guys around. Gotta scrub in.” Taehyung jumps from the other bed and Jungkook makes sure to extend his leg forward so that the older guy trips on it as he walks. “What the fuck, man.” Taehyung looks at him, offense written all over his face.

Jungkook gives him a glare. Taehyung chooses to ignore it rather than prolong it and walks past you at the door.

“Bye, fuckers.”

“Don’t call me a fucker!” Nayeon chimes in but Taehyung’s already out of the room.

“Hey, seriously! What was that?” You head towards the bed where Jungkook and Nayeon are, situating yourself on the far end of the bed to lean on the frame. You take off your sneakers in one swift move and lay your feet on Jungkook’s lap.

“It’s nothing. You know how Doyeon always bullies me…” Jungkook says, ignoring the tingling sensation that starts to creep up his spine at the way you casually initiate physical contact.

He needs to get a grip. You most probably don’t really mean anything by it.

“She does not bully you.” Nayeon rolls her eyes beside him.

“You probably deserve it.” you say, pulling out and eating some strawberry yogurt.

Nayeon laughs at your remark, but then it’s cut short when a pager suddenly beeps. Instantly, all of you take out your own and check if it was yours.

“Alright, that’s my call.”

“Bye. Good luck.” You say, offering your cup to Nayeon, but she only shakes her head. Meanwhile, Jungkook gives her a pair of thumbs up.

When Nayeon leaves the room, you nudge Jungkook with your foot.

“Hey,”

Jungkook looks at you with a brow raised.

“Can you rub my foot? Please rub my foot.” You say, making the best rendition of puppy face, extending your sock-cladded foot in his direction.

He scoffs. “Do you think I’m a pushover?”

You gasp dramatically. “I do not! I think you’re a cool person who’d totally give me foot rubs.”

“Unfortunately, I’m not a cool person who would give you foot rubs.”

You groan. “I gave you a massage weeks ago.”

“That was, like, two months ago.” Jungkook says drily.

“It counts because you didn’t do anything to repay me for my kindness.”

“Oh, you need your kindness paid back?” Jungkook teases, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You pout at him and then whine. “Please, just three minutes, I swear. I’ll even put up a timer.”

Indeed, Jungkook is a pushover. Pushover to your cute pout and every request. Again, he could just not find it in himself to say no to you. Not even in his wildest dreams.

But it’s never not fun to tease you before he relents. “Fine. Two minutes.” He says, pretending to begrudge the thought of giving you a foot massage, even though inside, he’s quite thrilled to be doing so.

It would be a lie to say that it isn’t one of his favorite past times in the quiet evenings of your apartment. Jungkook loves the weight of your leg on his lap, loves the way you thank him in between groans, and loves that he just gets to be close to you in almost such an intimate way.

“Your feet stink.” Jungkook decides to tease, scrunching his nose, feigning disgust.

“Don’t lie. Also, your feet stink even more, don’t try me.”

“My feet do not stink.”

“Let’s just agree to disagree,” You grin. “I’m starting a timer.” You say, grabbing your phone, pressing some stuff on it before you put it on the mattress.

“Let me see, for all I know, you set it to five instead of three.”

You look at him with widen eyes, stiffening.

“It’s three minutes.”

“Your nostrils are flaring, you’re lying.”

You groan. “Please. Dinner is on me later.”

That obviously catches Jungkook’s attention.

“You’re staying at home for the night?”

You look at him weird. “Yeah, of course. What’s with that face?”

Jungkook shakes his head, hides a small smile as he looks down to your feet on his lap and takes a hold of one. He takes off your sock for you and begins massaging the tendons of your foot, noting the way you immediately lean back and relax.

“Nothing. I just thought you’d be staying at Mingyu’s again.”

“Ah,” you nod your head. When Mingyu's name is mentioned, you visibly frown. It’s the kind of face that you make when you’re deep in thought. “I was supposed to. But I don’t know… we fought this morning.”

Jungkook raises a brow. “You wanna talk about it?”

You shrug. “Not really. It’s a weird argument. I don’t know.”

He wants so badly to poke around and find out… but somehow, there’s something in him that tells him not to bother.

Anyway, you’re going home tonight so that’s all that matters. Jungkook begins to think about what to eat for dinner… he’d love to cook something, nevermind that he’s tired from his overnight shift yesterday. He also only got around four total hours of sleep in the past 48 hours, and that was not even consecutive hours – just the sum. That is why he was in the on-call rooms, until Taehyung suddenly barged in, followed by Doyeon, Nayeon, and then you.

“Oh– there, that’s so good, Jungkook,” you say after a particularly hard press against the ball of your heel.

Jungkook knows better than to let his mind wander upon hearing that from you. He’s massaging you, of course that was gonna be the natural reaction.

It’s also quite pathetic to be even thinking about it in the first place – considering that your mind might most likely be weighed by yours and Mingyu’s argument – your boyfriend.

“Hey, about what I said a few days ago,” you started to speak again, breaking the momentary silence. Jungkook hums to acknowledge you. “I know you said yes to me bringing Mingyu along, but, uh, I’m not sure if he still plans to.”

“Ah,” Jungkook nods. Was the argument that bad? “Okay.”

“Yeah. He has to fly over to Arizona for something that week. Told me he may be able to arrive and join us on the second day, which is the exact date of your birthday, but honestly, I’m not sure. His sched changes a lot.”

Deep down, Jungkook wishes Mingyu just opts out of joining in altogether.

But he doesn’t have to tell you that.

“That’s a shame.” he comments, not really meaning it. He massages your other foot with ginger hands, which has you letting out soft sighs again. Jungkook buries them in the back of his head, lest his mind goes to territories that are absolutely humiliating.

“I know…” you trail off. You look like you have more to say as well, but then the door to the room opens. Again.

“Forgot my pager.” Doyeon announces, crossing the room with quick steps to reach for the forgotten thing she left on the table.

When Doyeon’s gaze falls back to the both of you, she raises a brow, and then her eyes direct their way towards Jungkook’s hands on your foot.

You’re about to say something when Doyeon rolls his eyes at Jungkook. Then, without giving you the opportunity to speak, she heads out of the room quickly, leaving Jungkook to look in another direction in quiet shame.

“What was that?” You comment, confused at what just happened.

“Eh, she’s in a sour mood today. It’s regular Doyeon.” Shrugs Jungkook, trying to swerve the subject.

You pout. “Are you two fighting again for real?”

Jungkook chuckles. “No, it’s not serious. You know how Doyeon and I get.”

You squint your eyes, but say nothing nonetheless.

Meanwhile, Jungkook hisses internally.

Jungkook gets Doyeon. You all have been friends since freshman year of med school – the founder of your study group – and she was also the first one to find out about Jungkook’s little crush. He didn’t even have to say it explicitly, she just knew. Eventually, Jungkook told Taehyung. He has quite a big mouth, unfortunately, so when you started your internship at the hospital – he lets it slip in a conversation with Nayeon who was just becoming your friend that time – leading the situation to where it is right now.

Out of all of them, though, Doyeon got it pretty hard. She’s witnessed the early stages of Jungkook’s infatuation towards you in the first semester of med school, had to keep quiet during study sessions. She was even supportive that time, telling Jungkook to just go for it – but then Eunwoo happened, and the confession never saw the light of day.

When they broke up, Doyeon became hopeful again, just as Jungkook was. But you were showing no signs of moving on and Jungkook had no choice but to step back for a bit.

The past two years, though, Doyeon became more insistent, telling him you’re single and it’s the fattest chance Jungkook can ever get.

But she’s right, after all. Jungkook’s a pussy. He hides his feelings well – a pro at the sport, really, at this point.

When Mingyu happened a few months ago, Doyeon’s just over it. She told Jungkook one time in a drinking session that the ship has sunk and he’s going to be in his sixties regretting not ever confessing to you. Sometimes, he wakes up at night in sweat from a nightmare that involved Doyeon murdering him because of his emotional constipation.

Jungkook knows she just wants the best for him – even though she’s more on showing him tough love instead of a gentle one. Doyeon’s always been like that, but she’s a good friend. When things went haywire, she was there to genuinely sympathize with him and console him – together with Taehyung and some of his other friends.

But in Jungkook’s defense, Doyeon just also doesn’t get it.

It’s so easy to just say fuck it and make a confession already, so easy to think about how things could turn positively – but she’s not – they’re not – in Jungkook’s shoes. They will never be.

So many things could go wrong if he ever were to listen to his heart. Sure, he’s had the chance over the past four years – most would say that. But it’s not a chance when you’ve spent half of it moving on from Eunwoo. It’s not a chance when you spent the other half trying to go on dates and fail – each one making you more miserable about your love life, as you told him so many nights ago in those rare special moments in the balcony of your apartment.

Those four years you were single was never a chance – not when you never showed any bit of interest.

It’s the reality that his friends always somehow miss when encouraging him to confess his feelings.

You’re friends for almost a decade now – eight years to be exact – but not once did you ever hint at wanting to be in a relationship with him. Your reaction to that always involved a disgusted expression and a variation of “No way!”. Might be a joke just to tease him – but also might be rooted in something genuine deep down.

Jungkook likes to think that physically, he doesn’t look so bad. He’s nice when he wants to be, especially towards people he cares about. He’s a resident surgeon who makes enough. Could be funny, charming… whatever.

Most of all, he likes to think he could deserve you one of these days. That he could be the man that you’re searching for.

But it’s been eight years and you’ve never once looked at him like how he surely does at you.

God knows how many times Jungkook has tried to move on – how many sleepless nights he has trying to erase the feeling of so much longing for you. Sometimes, it works, when he’s on his casual dates and hook-up with all those women that thankfully fancied him enough. He momentarily forgets about your laugh and your hair and the crinkles on the sides of your eyes when you smile and your soft hands and your gentle voice – but it cracks when the sex is done and he’s staring at the blank ceiling of his date’s apartment, hating himself for yet again seeing your picture in his memory when he’s buried in somebody else, wishing it was you instead.

It hurts so badly. Especially when you seem to look at everybody else except him. You wanted to weed out someone for you – meanwhile, he’s just right under your nose, and yet you don’t see him. It’s at this point, when you have Mingyu as your boyfriend now, that Jungkook is starting to realize that you don’t see him not because you can’t, but because you choose not to.

Regardless, he knows you love him. Knows you care about him on a deeper level. Would probably sacrifice a bit of your time to tend to him if he needs it. But it’s the kind of love that’s not comparable to the one he has for you. Jungkook’s feelings encompass every single kind of love a human could have for another being – but you only have one kind for him. The platonic kind.

And even though it’s painful to face the reality of that very idea, Jungkook thinks that maybe… just maybe… Mingyu’s actually it.

Mingyu wasn’t exactly a saint the last time Jungkook saw him, but people change and the way you seem so genuinely happy these days tells Jungkook that maybe Mingyu’s another version of himself now – the better one who will never hurt you or make you cry.

Maybe this is what love’s all about. You’re content with seeing them happy, even if it’s not with you.

Jungkook thinks that as he steals a glance at you looking at your phone – most probably playing that landlord game on your phone you’ve been obsessed with the past few weeks – and you’re so beautiful like this. Even when you’re probably running on limited hours of sleep just like him.

Your hair is put up in that tulip hairclip you have a lot of, stray hairs framing some parts of your face. But he sees your features just fine – notes the way they are structured so perfectly it truly awes him that men and women didn’t beg for your attention whenever you went out in public.

Because he would. He did. He does. He always teases you for the purpose of your reaction… because Jungkook likes it when you pay attention to him. So much that it kills him to think that maybe, that attention will die soon as you and Mingyu get closer as another week passes by.

The timer that goes off on your phone snaps Jungkook out of his thoughts, and you look at him with widened eyes.

“Don’t st–”

“It’s my turn now,” Jungkook cuts you off and gently places your legs on the mattress, bringing his own on the soft surface as well.

You jut your bottom lip out – and Jungkook feels himself wanting to give in.

“Five minutes is so quick.” You say, but nonetheless takes his shin to your lap.

Jungkook tries hard to sway the butterflies in his stomach at your touch.

“Favor for a favor, remember?” He teases, lifting one of his foot to your direction.

You pretend to gag. “I hate you.”

Jungkook laughs, quite boisterously. Because he knows you don’t mean it. I hate you basically just means I love you but you’re annoying me right now in your own little dictionary – and he always gets giddy whenever you tell him that – as weird as it may sound.

But Jungkook likes this, though.

Sure, it would be so fucking great if he could just confess and lay out his cards all at once, but the chances of you not taking it well is too big – and even though Jungkook’s usually a risk taker, he couldn’t ever risk you all over his dead body.

He can keep his hurt to himself over you feeling anything but romantic towards him – because if he confesses and you don’t feel the same way, he knows damn well that he’ll lose you completely.

And the thought makes him shudder.

That probably catches your sight, so you ask him about it.

Jungkook tells you it’s the AC.

[ DAY 1 | August 31st, 11:04am ]

The beating sun feels uncomfortable on Jungkook’s skin, but there’s no way he’s wasting a day like this holed up in the villa he and his friends chipped in to rent. It costed you all a shit ton of money – might as well enjoy every waking day he gets to spend here.

It’s why he decides to goad Taehyung and Nayeon into coming with him along the shore where sun loungers are lined up to accommodate the few visitors who were also at the resort. He tried to convince Doyeon, but she goes straight to sleep as soon as the rooms were assigned.

He gets it – you all did travel by plane instead of car (because that would've taken you twelve hours) and Doyeon gets airsick whenever she rides in a plane. Jungkook also tried to talk you into it, but you said you were just going to lounge about by the pool at the villa and follow after a while.

Your “after awhile” takes about thirty minutes, and Jungkook thinks you’re missing all the fun, especially when Nayeon and Taehyung are starting to strip off their clothes to submerge themselves in the ocean.

With his loaded watergun, he goes straight back to the villa, and it doesn’t take much time to spot you by the terrace, lying down on a sun lounger with your big hat and sunglasses on, a book opened in your hands.

Unsuspecting, you let out a sudden squeal when Jungkook presses the trigger of the toy in his grip, a spring of water meeting your bare legs. Jungkook obviously tries hard to ignore that you’re wearing a flimsy pair of white bikinis. He saw you pack it two days ago… and he remembers taking too long to move on from the image he’s conjured up in his head upon seeing it.

“Jungkook!”

He chuckles at your reaction, poorly hiding the watergun behind him. “What?”

“I’ll kill you.” You seethe, your body coming forward to sit upright, hastily taking your sunnies off so he can see the cute glare on your face.

“What are you going to do? I have this,” He points to his weapon. “Are you challenging me into a hand-to-hand combat?” Jungkook teases, wiggling his eyebrow.

You groan. Then, you lay back on the lounger again, opening your book, deciding to ignore him.

Jungkook can’t have that, of course. So, he walks closer to your direction, stopping beside you, effectively blocking the sun and in turn, dimming the light source of your book.

“You’re blocking my sun.” You say, looking up at him.

“You’ll get all the sun you want if you haul your ass off to the shore. Come on, we’re all swimming in there,” he tries to convince you, nudging your thigh with his knee.

You give him a pout. You sound whiny when you say, “But it’s too hot.”

“That’s why we’ll get in the water.”

“Don’t be sassy.” You roll your eyes. “I meant the water would be way too hot.”

“It’s not, Nayeon said so.”

You glance at the pool across from you. “Why can’t we all just swim in here?”

Jungkook deadpans. “Because this is a five-foot pool and absolutely no one will enjoy it.”

You frown at him, quietly telling Jungkook he’s right.

“Ugh,” you groan. “But I’ll have to reapply SPF first…” You grab the bottle of lotion that’s just placed on the small table on the side of the lounger. Then you look at him with squinted eyes, “Did you wear sunscreen?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes but nonetheless says yes, knowing how you always nag him about it whenever you guys are at the beach. It’s not even just him. It’s also with your other friends.

He watches as you rub lotion over your body, but when you get to the back, you look up at him and extend the bottle towards his way.

“Can you help me with this, please?” You say.

Jungkook automatically takes the bottle but it takes him a full five seconds to understand what you’re getting at.

You’re asking him to put sunscreen on your back. You’re very naked back that sports nothing but the tiny strings of your bikini holding your chest.

Of course, you don’t notice his dilemma. Twisting in your seat so that your back faces him, you gather your hair to the side, obviously waiting for him to do your request.

But Jungkook’s distracted behind your back. He’s distracted at how smooth it looks under the scorching sun and how easy it would be to paint it with something other than the natural color of your skin.

It’s not even the first time he’ll do this – you’ve been to trips before and putting on sunscreen over your friend is about as natural as it gets like how he would do it as well to Taehyung or even Doyeon or Nayeon if they ask to.

But it doesn’t mean it doesn’t affect him one bit when it comes to you.

Needless to say, his mind is pre-occupied as he sits down behind you where you left some space for him to sit, squirting the lotion into the palms of his hands, gingerly spreading it over your back once he got it.

“Be sure to cover everything,” you say, obviously not aware about Jungkook’s mental crisis behind your back.

He thinks it’s worth the crisis over though, as you’re so soft under his touch. Jungkook kneads the span of your back, squeezes your waist lightly to even out the cream, and makes sure to put it over your shoulders as well. When his hands fall, he hesitates.

“Should I – uh—”

“Yeah, just go under the strings.” You tell him before he can even finish.

There’s a lump in his throat that he swallows before he goes under the strings of your bikini top, his heart doing funny somersaults against his ribcage as he spreads the lotion over your skin. It guilts him to no end that his mind thinks about how he’s just inches away from your breasts.

He retreats his hand right away. “Done.”

You turn back to him. “Thanks. You want me to do yours?”

“Sure.”

Jungkook sits on the edge of the lounger and lets his back turn to you. He hears the cap of the lotion bottle being opened again and soon your hands are lathering the cream over the expanse of his back.

It’s embarrassing the way he lets himself savor the seconds of your every touch. Embarrassing the way his mind zeroes in on the way your soft hands caress the tendons of his back muscles. He thinks about the weight, how good this feels; your hands on him. Suddenly, there’s a zap of electricity that goes through his spine, and then he feels it.

The twitch in his dick and the blood that he feels rushing to it.

“Okay, you’re done.” You say, tapping his back twice so he can turn to you.

It snaps him out of his thoughts, but his dick is thinking about something else and as he subtly looks down, there’s already a growing semi on the crotch of his trunk shorts.

Jungkook curses himself internally, shutting his eyes close in slight frustration.

Fucking uncooperative dick.

He stands up from the chair when you nudge his back with your foot, thinking that he’d see you coming along in a few seconds. But you don’t, and as he turns his heel to look at you, you’re back in your cozy lying position on the lounger, with your book opened, just like how he saw you when he came in a while ago.

Jungkook parts his lips in disbelief, but also finding the whole thing funny.

“You minx.” He muses, playfully squinting his eyes at you upon realizing the trick you just pulled.

“Enjoy the beach, Jungkook. Send my regards to Taehyung and Nayeon.” You say, giving him a taunting flying kiss. “And thank you for reapplying my sunscreen.”

Jungkook chuckles at your remark, and just like that, he forgets about his stubborn dick, and goes over back to you, blocking your sun once again.

“You’re blocking my sun again— Jungkook!”

It’s predictable the way you hurl a series of creative curses at him as Jungkook forcefully picks you up from the chair, knocking your hat and your book on the ground as he hoists you against his shoulder, carrying you upside down like a sack of potatoes.

“Jungkook, I swear to god!” You squeal, repeatedly slapping his back as he walks to the direction of the shore, but Jungkook’s nothing but a solid muscle, firm over his hold on the back of your legs.

“Be quiet.” He says, chuckling at your sounds of opposition.

“I hate you, you’re such a prick, ugh!”

He picks up his walking pace and you scream again when you see the ocean water from your view.

Jungkook chuckles as you continue to plant your fists on his back, and when the water reaches his knees, he throws you in it.

“Fuck. You!” You say, glaring at Jungkook in the middle of his uncontrollable laughter.

“Come on, Taehyung and Nayeon are over there,” he points to the deeper part of the ocean a few feet from where you are, and when you turn your head, you see Taehyung and Nayeon with their floaties.

“Ugh…” Jungkook hears you groan before you follow behind him. When Jungkook looks back, he sees you paddling around the water like some puppy, and he snickers to himself. That earns him a splash on his way, with you rolling your eyes at him.

“Jungkook! __!” Yells Nayeon over their direction, waving her hand around. Taehyung and her are perched on the big floatie they fought over with at the villa earlier.

“Jungkook,” calls you behind him.

You’re starting to cross the deeper part of the ocean and it’s within Jungkook’s chest now. Meanwhile, your friends are still about a few feet away, so the level would definitely be on his neck by the time. You’re considerably tall, but Jungkook’s still half a head taller than you, so when he looks back at you, the water’s already reached your shoulders.

“This is way too deep!” You complain.

“Don’t be a pussy, __!” Comments Taehyung from afar.

“Fuck off,” you murmur and then beckons Jungkook to you. “Help me a bit here.”

Jungkook shakes his head, chuckling as he moves a few steps back to get to your direction.

“You big baby, you never learned how to swim, have you?” He teases, playfully clicking his tongue.

“What for?” You say when he gets near.

Jungkook feels pleased with himself about you asking for his help to cross the deeper part of the ocean, but he’s met with surprise when you heavily plant your palms on his shoulders, causing him to be out of balance and tripping over his feet under the water.

It causes a misstep and he nearly chokes as he comes back up for air again only to see you laughing your ass off. Nayeon and Taehyung are also laughing along, even from afar, and Jungkook wipes the back of his hand over his eyes to see clearly.

“That’s for throwing me in the water earlier,” you say in between your snickers and Jungkook’s just about to say something back when you suddenly wrap your hands around his neck from the back, your legs locking around his waist. “Carry me to the floatie, pretty please,” you say against his cheek in a sing-song voice.

With that, Jungkook feels your whole entire body against his back, your breasts pressing against his skin. He ignores the way the physical contact makes his body tingle, and he hopes you don’t notice his blush when he raises his arms to hold the back of your legs.

“Only because you’re annoying.” He pretends to sound annoyed, but the laugh that comes out of you at the remark makes him smile anyway.

[ DAY 1 | August 31st, 11:35pm ]

Your daytime activities at the beach included jetskiing – one that knocked Taehyung off the water way too many times that he just gave up halfway through it. When Doyeon woke up a little later in the afternoon, all of you decided to get food from the dining hall and ate your hearts out at the buffet.

The day ended with all of you back in your assigned rooms again. Since you rented a two-bedroom villa, Jungkook’s rooming with Taehyung in the secondary bedroom while Nayeon, Doyeon, and you are all inside the primary one since it’s bigger.

It’s past thirty minutes to eleven in the night when somebody knocks on Jungkook’s shared bedroom with Taehyung. When Jungkook looks at him from across the room, he’s knocked out on the sofa, soft snores coming out from his mouth. Him and Jungkook decided to take turns with the bed itself throughout the whole vacation. There’s an extra cushion Taehyung could’ve laid on the floor, but he was way too tired to set it up and to even care – looks like he doesn’t really need it, though, since he looks so peaceful in his position.

Grumbling, Jungkook gets out from the sheets, scratching his bare chest and rubbing the back of his head as he walks over to the door to open it.

When he does, he’s welcomed by the sight of you in your big grey hoodie and some shorts.

“Wear something.” You say as soon as you take in his appearance.

Jungkook’s habit of going to sleep with only his boxers knows no bounds. Even when it’s below 20 degrees Celsius outside, he always opts out of his pajamas, choosing to go bare in his sheets instead. In his defense for now, the duvet is thick and it provided him with enough protection against the cold of the AC and the summer night.

“What are you doing here?” He says as he trudges back inside the room to wear a pair of sweatpants hanging from the chair.

“Rude.” You comment, following him in the room. You look at Taehyung’s passed out state in the couch. “He’s going to wake up in the evening tomorrow and miss your birthday.”

That makes Jungkook smirk, remembering Taehyung’s high energy in the morning.

“No consequences. It’s vacation week.” Jungkook raises his eyebrows. “Seriously, what brought you here? It’s almost midnight.”

You sit on the edge of the bed. That’s when Jungkook notices the black plastic you’re carrying in your hand. “It’s not that late. Let’s head out for a bit.”

He raises a brow, confused. “Where to?”

“You’re going to find out. Wear a jacket, it’s a bit cold outside.” You say as you stand up from the bed again, heading for the door.

Jungkook’s confusion just grows with passing seconds. Nonetheless, he can’t say he’s not intrigued.

Unsure, he goes for his small luggage and takes out the only hoodie he packed. It’s grey as well, matching the one you have on. Jungkook tries to shake that thought off his head as you both quietly head out of the room.

It’s late into the night and when you head out of the villa, there’s not many people hanging along the shore anymore.

“Follow me,” you tell him, and Jungkook does.

It may have been his drowsiness that kept him quiet throughout the whole walk – just quietly following along with you, your rented villa no longer in his line of sight. Jungkook couldn’t exactly pinpoint where you currently are, but this side of the beach is a bit rocky, and much, much colder. He feels it even through the thick material of his hoodie.

“We’re here.” You announce, a proud lilt to your voice. Jungkook bumps with your back when you suddenly stop on your tracks. It prompts a chuckle from you, turning back to him so Jungkook sees the crinkles on the sides of your eyes as you do so.

It makes his lips curl. “What’s this?” He curiously asks, looking around.

Your grin grows wider. “We’re gonna take those stairs and it’s gonna lead us to some pretty view.” Jungkook looks to the direction you pointed at, seeing the stairs you just referred to. Still unsure, he glances back at you. You laugh. “You remember when Doyeon and I went out for a walk earlier for a bit? We found this place.”

Jungkook nods. “I see. Thought for a second there you found a place to dispose my body at.”

You snort as you take Jungkook’s wrist to hold on to as you climb to the stairs.

“I won’t do it as such a public place.”

“So, you really are thinking about it in the first place.” Jungkook nods his head, guiding your back up the jagged stairs. You manage to get to the smoother surface and Jungkook’s quick to follow you towards the straight path of the narrow walkway.

“It’s my favorite past time, really.” You look back at him cheekily, a playful grin painting your lips. Jungkook scoffs.

The hallway is colonnaded with some flags, and there’s an edge where the concrete stops, the ocean water splashing against the big rocks beneath the broken bridge.

You set aside the black plastic you’ve been carrying around and Jungkook realizes they’re Smirnoffs. Sitting on the concrete, you let your feet hang on the edge.

“Hey, be careful,” Jungkook comments as he sees you do that. This part of the ocean isn’t necessarily far – where you were earlier when you were swimming was far deeper, but still, it could be dangerous if you make a mistake. Jungkook wonders what the designers of the beach thought about when they made this plan.

“Come on, don’t be fussy. Sit here with me.” You say, patting the space beside you.

Jungkook follows, of course, and you scoot to the side a little to give him more room.

“It’s nice, right,” You look at him, cocking your head to the side.

Jungkook feels the breeze of cool wind passing, and it’s a bit strong that it moves his fringes and yours as well. You put your hair up as usual in that big metal clip you always wear, but some strands of your hair escape and they frame your face.

With your big hoodie on and smile, Jungkook thinks you look extra cozy. He may have been hot and bothered by your bikini ensemble earlier, but now he’s bothered for another reason. He can’t stop thinking about cuddling you under the night sky full of stars at the very moment.

“Feels good.” Jungkook comments. He plants his palms on the hard surface of the concrete behind him, leaning back as he looks to your side. “You wanted to drink here?”

“Oh, yeah,” You say, twisting your body a little to pick up the plastic cellophane. You take out two bottles of Smirnoffs and offer one to him which he gladly takes. Taking a bottle opener out, you’re about to open your drinks when Jungkook offers to do it for the both of you. You don’t protest, just let him do his thing, smiling when he hands you your Smirnoff.

“This is really nice.” Jungkook sighs after he takes the first sip, looking straight ahead to the mountainous view in front of you.

You hum, seemingly enjoying the moment as well. Jungkook takes a quick glance at your side profile and then quickly looks back ahead when he feels you do the same.

“Why’d you bring me here?” He asks.

“Nothing. I couldn’t sleep, and I thought I could bring you here. So.” You shrug.

Jungkook nods.

“I’m turning thirty-one tomorrow. Or, in an hour, actually.” He says, automatically looking at his wrist but then realizing he took off his watch and left it at the bedside table. He didn’t take his phone with him either.

“I know. You’re so old now.” You tell him with a teasing tone in your words.

“Fuck off,” he snorts. “I’m only a year older than you.”

“Hmm… still old. Imagine, you turn fifty, I would still be forty-nine.”

Jungkook laughs at that.

“Whatever makes you sleep at night, babe.” He lets the pet name slip, and he did not mean to. It just rolled off his tongue for some reason. Quite easily, too.

You don’t seem to care – or even notice – as you chuckle.

There’s a comfortable silence that hangs in the air again when Jungkook decides to break it.

“Hey, I really appreciate you for coming along. You and the gang, really. This is a really good trip so far.”

You give him a smile as you look at him. It’s one of those pretty ones that are a bit small but there’s a certain shine to your eyes and Jungkook just really loves looking at you with a smile on your face. You’re so pretty, he thinks he’s so lucky to even get the chance to look at you.

“You know we all need this trip, right? I think it’s all our first time vacationing in two years.”

He nods, chuckling to himself. It’s true. The last time was the Thailand trip and it felt like eons ago. Being a resident surgeon means less free time for leisure – and so you always make sure to spend your days off wisely. Even this trip took a lot of pre-planning to be possible just so all of your schedules would match.

“It’s crazy, though…” you say suddenly.

Jungkook cocks a brow at you. “What’s crazy?”

“That we’ve known each other for like – what? Eight years?”

Eight years and four months to be exact. Jungkook’s not keeping count – he just will never forget the exact moment he met you for the very first time.

It’s truly one of his core memories – knowing you. He remembers having to pass by the law library to meet Jimin – one of his closest friends who was studying law at the same grad school as him at the time. They were planning to eat out for lunch, but then he saw a woman at the individual study areas with a reading material that’s familiar with his. Netter’s Atlas of Human Anatomy. You wore that maroon hairclip you loved so much during first year (Jungkook remembers you losing it in the second semester and how he bought you another one in your birthday), and when you looked up from your book for awhile, taking a break from taking notes on your iPad, that was when Jungkook saw your face and he nearly falls over back then.

It’s common knowledge among your mutual friends and acquaintances that you’re pretty. It’s the first thing that Jungkook noticed about you, the reason why he harbored an instant crush. That pretty much turned into… well – something deeper as the years passed by and he got to know you more than just your beautiful physical appearance.

He found it strange at the time to find somebody who was obviously a med student studying at the law library, but he soon found out it was because you didn’t like studying at the med lib, said you felt too much pressure being among your fellow med students. Jungkook understood that in a spiritual level, and so when you became friends, you studied a lot at the law lib, until you met Doyeon and she formed a study group. It wasn’t long before Taehyung joined the equation.

Looking back at it, Jungkook thinks it’s surreal. How knowing you led to him knowing more people that would soon be important in his life up until the age of thirty-one.

“Almost a decade.” He says, can’t help but smile at the thought.

“Right? It feels so surreal sometimes that we all knew each other at, like, twenty-three and twenty two. And now we’re in our thirties.”

“When you put it like that…” Jungkook trails off, laughing at how young you actually were eight years ago.

“Yeah, I know!” You giggle. You look ahead, then you laugh again to yourself. Jungkook looks at you in confusion, giving you a questioning look at your sudden burst of laughter. Looking at him, you shake your head, “This is a bit of a TMI, but I was twenty-two when I entered med school, so I just lost my virginity three years ago. You know what’s funny? I’ve always thought I would lose my virginity, at like, thirty. Or twenty-seven. But that was even way too early for me.”

Jungkook almost splutters at the way you casually bring it up. He takes the bottle of Smirnoff away from him and looks at you with a chuckle. “Losing your virginity at nineteen is common.”

“Well, did you? Lose yours at nineteen?” You arch a brow.

“Nope.” Jungkook shakes his head, tipping his head back to drink again.

“Younger?” You ask again.

Jungkook chuckles at your curiosity. Much to your surprise, he shakes his head again. “Nah. Junior year. I just turned twenty-one. Lost it with my first girlfriend.”

Your lips part and Jungkook meets your shocked stare, brow cocked upwards.

“You’re fucking with me.”

“What? No, I’m not.” He laughs. He gets your surprise, though. Taehyung couldn’t believe it either when it came up in a random conversation.

You still look incredulous as you say, “You mean, like you never dated until junior year of undergrad?��

Jungkook shakes his head once again. “Yes, and no…? I mean, I had a… sort of girlfriend? Back in highschool, yeah, but it was more of like a mutual crush thing rather than an official relationship. But yeah, never dated and never had sex ‘til I found my first girlfriend in third year.”

You look at him suspiciously still, and Jungkook can’t help but laugh even more at your reaction.

“I really don’t believe you.”

“What’s so surprising about that?” Jungkook knows the answer, though. He sleeps around, and you know that. It’s probably why you can’t believe he’s only started having sex until third year of college.

You’re quiet for a bit.

“So… you and that girlfriend broke up, and then…” you trail off, letting him finish the pieces.

Jungkook chuckles, recalling some memories that he thought were already hidden well at the back of his head.

Jiyeon. Her name was Park Jiyeon, his first girlfriend. He was the one who ended things – and not because he didn’t have feelings for her. It was the other way around.

“Yeah,” Jungkook fills in. “Didn’t date seriously after that.”

“Uh… was it a bad break-up?” You say, and there’s hesitance in your voice. When Jungkook looks at you, you open your mouth to take your question back, probably, but Jungkook just gives you a warm smile.

“Yeah. It was bad. But I don’t really think about it now.”

You nod. “I see.” You say, looking ahead at the ocean again. “You dated… quite seriously again in our last year of med school, though.”

“Sora?”

“Yeah.”

Jungkook nods, remembering the only one-year relationship he had. Min Sora was a fashion magazine director at the time. Jungkook liked her as she did, but they had too many differences that lead to too many arguments. Sora ended things before the relationship dragged out. Jungkook was grateful for it. They’re casual as of now… good friends, maybe?

“I always wondered why she broke up with you.” You say quietly.

Jungkook doesn’t expect that. “You wondered about that?”

“Yeah. I mean, you seemed like you were both really into each other, so I just thought… you know,” you shrug.

“Ah. That,” Jungkook looks afar, recalling the day when she ended things with him. It had been because of the stress that the last year of med school brought – he likes to think that. But it was also during the time when Eunwoo proposed to you and what he thought was feelings forgotten for you came back resurfacing and Sora just… figured him out. She told him he loved you, and she’s got no spare time to compete with that. Denying it at the time was futile – Sora was smart. A wise, independent woman. She ended the relationship herself before she got deeply hurt. Jungkook has always felt sorry about how things turned out. No, he doesn’t regret the break-up – just regrets the way he hurt her – unintentionally – even though she didn’t show it. “Just didn’t work out, I guess.”

You nod again.

Silence sits in the air.

It feels a little strange to talk about these things now. It’s not that you both never share these aspects about your lives to each other, but it’s the first time you ask him about Sora. He never really bothered to share, though, for the record.

From his periphery, he sees you taking your phone out from your pocket, then gasping.

Jungkook immediately looks at you to see what’s wrong. You show him your phone and he notes nothing of significance first before you say, “It’s 12:01 am. It’s September first!”

“Oh.”

“Happy birthday, Kook.” You say, smiling at him, and it’s an underestimation for Jungkook to say he nearly gets blinded by it. You look so gorgeous in your happy smile, so genuine, so warm, so cozy in your big grey hoodie.

Jungkook wants so bad to plant his lips on yours right then and there, but he reminds himself that he can’t do that. He reminds himself that you’re taken. That you like somebody else. The somebody else arriving tomorrow, as per your words earlier this day when he asked about Mingyu.

Still, it doesn’t stop Jungkook from mirroring your smile.

“Thank you.”

“And, before I forget,” you stuff your hands in the pocket of your hoodie and Jungkook watches as you take out a small rectangular box. As he pays you a glance, you’re a little bit shy, not looking straight into his eyes as you say, “Uh. I saw this somewhere, and I thought you’d like it.”

You extend your hand to him and Jungkook lets go of his beer to take the velvety green box from you.

He feels jittery as he takes it in, caresses the ribbon first before opening it altogether.

What’s inside surprises him.

“It didn’t cost much so don’t throw it away,” you say, uncharacteristically defensive. Jungkook can’t see your expression, but he bets your thoughts are going haywire as it takes him awhile to say anything about your gift. You always get nervous when it comes to gifts. “... and anyway, it’s not even my real gift. My real gift is a hairdryer, so I’m sure you’re gonna like that better. But it’s cute, right? You can hang it in your keyholder or something—”

“__,” Jungkook cuts you off, his eyes still on the keyring laying on the box. “You’re giving this to me?”

“Y-yeah. It’s… uh… cute, right? I thought it was cute.” You say, and when Jungkook looks at you, he sees the adorable way your brows furrow.

He chuckles, looking at the keyring again. It’s a silver Claddagh.

“Do you know what this means?” Jungkook asks.

“The what?”

Jungkook points to the Claddagh. “This symbol.”

You look away as you say, “No, not really. I just thought it’s a cool keychain. You told me you like keychains, but I don’t ever see you with a keychain. So.”

With your nostrils flaring a little, he knows you’re lying. You definitely know what the Claddagh symbol means.

But instead of goading you about it, Jungkook takes the keyring out of the box and hangs it over his finger, admiring the item.

“Thank you. This is really cute, and I love it.” Jungkook tells you, giving you a soft smile.

You stare at him and then cave into a smile of your own. “I’m glad you do.”

Jungkook looks at the Claddagh again and smiles heartily.

His heart aches with so much yearning and longing when you go back to the villa that night, spending about three minutes staring at the Claddagh you gifted him that he immediately hangs in his key holder. Jungkook thinks he’s going to transfer it to his work bag or the back of his rearview mirror, but his keyholder would do for now.

You love him alright, certainly not the way he does, but it’s enough for him.

[ DAY 2 | September 1st, 11:55pm ]

It was not a secret among Nayeon, Doyeon, and Taehyung that Jungkook’s mood considerably plummeted down as soon as Mingyu called you early in the morning that he’d be landing in the afternoon.

Afternoon came, and he tried to suck it up like a grown man – and because as far as you know, they’re both friends. And Mingyu’s your boyfriend. He should be nothing but supportive.

But it was especially hard when you gushed about being excited that he was finally here. It’s been four months since you started seeing each other, two months since you officially dated, but somehow, Jungkook still could not process it.

He knows he’s being unfair. To you and to himself. But he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help the feeling of ugly bitterness that sat in his heart as you told him about how Mingyu rented another villa so you both could room together, effectively taking you away from the rest of your friends.

Of course, you all spent his birthday together – doing tons of water activities in the ocean, eating at the dining hall, and roaming around for some more leisure time, but Jungkook could not help but think that ever since Mingyu’s arrived, you’ve been sticking with him, even taking the time away from the gang to show your boyfriend around the resort.

Even at the villa’s porch where all of you took out your foldable chairs to drink outside, you were with Mingyu, perched on his lap, laughing at the jokes getting thrown around in the circle.

He tried not to look too much at how Mingyu comfortably wrapped one arm around your waist while the other held a drink, how you leaned into his touch, and how easily he blended with the group with his charm.

“Where’d you get the ice cream?” Doyeon asked as Taehyung sat down on his chair with a small bowl of the sweet treat.

“Fridge. Nayeon and I bought it earlier.”

“There’s ice cream?” Mingyu asked, in which Taehyung nodded to. He turned to you. “Do you want it?”

Jungkook’s brows furrowed in confusion. “__’s lactose intolerant.” He noticed everybody suddenly looking at him. Feeling cornered, he drank from his beer to avoid their gazes.

Mingyu, obviously surprised by the declaration, glanced back at you. “Baby, you didn’t tell me that?”

You winced. “It’s not really a big deal.” you waved him off and when you laugh.

“Yeah, she’s stubborn about it. She can inhale five cones in one sitting.” Taehyung said which made everybody laugh. Jungkook knew it was to lighten the mood. So, he laughed as well, even though from his periphery, he could see you giving him daggers through your eyes.

Jungkook doesn’t know why you had to pretend it wasn’t a big deal. Sure, Taehyung’s right about you not taking your lactose intolerance seriously sometimes, but you’ve also gotten into a lot of trouble because of it, hence why you’ve been making conscious efforts to not eat dairy.

The whole day leaves a sour impression on him with Mingyu around. Quite a shame, really, since he started his birthday so well with you taking him to the far-end of the beach to drink and give him a Claddagh.

When the night becomes much darker, Jungkook sits on the terrace near the pool all by himself. Everybody’s fast asleep at this point. He doesn’t know about you, though, ‘cause you’ve probably transferred all your stuff to the other villa Mingyu rented around.

“Hey,”

Jungkook looks at the embodied voice that suddenly calls. He sees it’s Doyeon.

“Hey,” Jungkook smiles, taking the other bottle of beer on the coffee table and offering it to her.

She waves his hand. “Nah, I’ve had enough for the whole day.” Doyeon situates herself on the folding chair next to Jungkook.

Jungkook nods, looking straight ahead to the pool. They sit in comfortable silence for a while until Doyeon speaks.

“Hey, I’m sorry for the last week,”

Jungkook glances at her with a small smile. “What for?”

“For calling you a pussy. And just… being harsh. Had a tough week and your emotional constipation just pissed me off more. You’re still a pussy, but I shouldn’t have rubbed it off your face.” She says.

Jungkook stares at her with parted lips.

“Wow. I don’t know if that’s an actual apology.”

“It’s an apology with a hundred percent realness, you know I don’t baby anybody.”

“Hah,” Jungkook scoffs, amused. “Yeah. Well, you’re right, though. Today’s been…”

Doyeon sighs. “It’s hard on you, right?”

Jungkook can only give her a meaningful smile.

“But you don’t exactly have the right to get jealous… she’s not your girlfriend and you two are not anything,” Doyeon says, and it tugs at Jungkook’s heartstrings. Meanwhile, she looks ahead and continues to speak. “It’s hard when you have all these feelings for someone, but you have to hide it. You just want to show everybody they mean so much to you, but you can’t. It sucks.”

Jungkook thinks she’s still talking about his situation with you but then as he glances at her, she seems to be deep in thought. As if she’s actually speaking from her own experience.

He’s intrigued by that, of course.

“Woah, are you still talking about me?”

That seems to get Doyeon out of her trance.

She rolls his eyes. “Who else would I be talking about?”

Jungkook opens his mouth to say something. You guys have always had the theory that Doyeon has a secret boyfriend. It’s silly at best but sometimes, he thinks it’s true. Doyeon has never been the type to wear her heart on her sleeve, though. She’s tough and she’s frank a lot of times. But she’s the kind of friend who’d call you a bitch in your face but then would go to all the lengths to defend you from everybody.

“Okay.” Jungkook nods, dropping the subject.

“Has she told you yet?” Doyeon asks suddenly.

“What?” He mirrors back, knowing exactly who the she Doyeon’s referring to.

“She’s planning to move in with him some of these days.”

“I…” Jungkook stops, his mouth opening and closing like a fish in water. To say that he’s stunned is an understatement. Obviously, you haven’t told him anything.

“You don’t know.” Doyeon says upon realization.

Jungkook shakes his head. “She didn’t tell me.”

Doyeon lets out a loud sigh. “It’s not really set in stone, though, that’s what she said. But they’re discussing it.”

“Ah.” Jungkook nods and looks ahead at the pool. Another beat of silence, a sip of beer, and then he scoffs. “I really should’ve confessed even way back then, huh?” He laughs but there’s no humor in it.

Doyeon stares at him. “I didn’t tell you about that so you can regret not telling your feelings for her earlier.”

“I didn’t—”

“I told you that so you can move on, Jungkook.”

Jungkook closes his mouth shut.

She looks away. “You remember the time I liked you in med school?”

“Doyeon…” Jungkook’s lips part, not at all expecting for her to bring that up. It’s been so long ago and ever since… Doyeon’s confession, they never really talked about it again.

“Oh my god, look at your face,” She laughs. “God, do you think I still like you? I moved on the day after you rejected me.”

“I didn’t reject you.” Jungkook defensively says.

She rolls her eyes. “I asked you if you were interested and you didn’t say anything. You just looked at me like this,” Doyeon stiffens her body and widens her eyes in a comical rendition of Jungkook’s famous OJO face.

Jungkook can’t help but scoff. “That was the strangest confession that happened to me, though. You told me you liked me in the straightest face ever, I still think it was a cruel prank of some sort.”

Doyeon bursts into laughter, and Jungkook follows along, recalling that time.

“Yeah… that was funny. But… it was real, not a prank at all. I don’t remember why I liked you, though.”

Jungkook looks at her incredulously. “Okay, but that’s actually the most hurtful thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Don’t take it personally,” Doyeon rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile on her lips still. “Anyway, I brought it up because that was the same day when I realized you like __. I mean, I had my suspicions, but I confirmed it around the time.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “Was really surprised when you told me that. I thought I hid it pretty well.”

“Yeah, but not to me. You know, I don’t even know how __ didn’t figure it out herself. You’d always follow her around and in our study sessions, you always stayed up late with her and was overly attentive. Whenever Taehyung asked you too much, you sort of like reached a point where you just told him to suck it up. But if it was __, you were so patient,” Doyeon giggles. “She had a really hard time with Biochem. I remember you tutoring her all the time.”

“That was…” Jungkook bows his head down, a bit embarrassed at being read like that. “She cried a lot during first year.”

Doyeon purses her lips. “Yeah…”

Both stare ahead again, with nothing to say for a few more seconds. Jungkook continues to sip his bear while Doyeon quietly sits.

“I have this biased notion about Mingyu,” Doyeon speaks up. Jungkook looks at her she continues, “I keep on telling myself, he’s probably gonna fuck up anytime soon – and that’s because deep inside, I still want you and __ together. You know I’ve always wanted you both to be together. It’s hard to see __ struggling with her love life. She almost failed the internship when Eunwoo broke up with her, and I don’t want her to go through that again as her friend. It’s hard, because I can’t do anything about it. I think of you, and how much you love her, and I think you’re good for her… but at the same time, I feel bad for thinking that. Because I can see that Mingyu makes her happy. It’s different with the other guys she dated before him. She’s truly happy with him, and I find it hard to think that Mingyu’s gonna break her heart. He seems… nice… and that he’d be good for her, you know what I mean?”

Jungkook’s quiet, processing her words.

Doyeon sighs before she speaks again. “But that hurts you in the process, doesn’t it? Seeing her happy but not with you. You’re both my friends and I’m in the position where it’s hard for me to situate myself in a certain place. Because I want __ to be happy, but I also want you to be happy – but your happiness is interconnected and it’s… tricky. It’s a tricky situation.”

Jungkook doesn’t realize that he’s gripping the neck of the bottle quite tightly at Doyeon’s words, but he listens.

“I don’t normally say things like this, Jungkook, but I’m your friend so I’m just gonna let this go,” Doyeon finally looks at him, and he meets her gaze. “It hurts me to see you hurting like this. It hurts Taehyung and Nayeon as well, but they won’t say it. Just… just be… just be okay, please?”

Jungkook exhales a sharp, shaky breath.

He knows what Doyeon meant by that. She’s asking him to… find happiness on his own. Happiness that doesn’t lie on __’s reciprocity because with the way things are going, that’s impossible. She’s planning to move in with Mingyu, and most of all, she seems genuinely happy.

“I… I know. Thank you.” Jungkook says, not really knowing what to say.

Doyeon chuckles. “Do you want a hug?”

He looks at her with a smile. “I could use one right now, yeah.”

Doyeon laughs before standing up and going over to where Jungkook sits on his own sun chair. When she steps in front of him, Jungkook wraps his arms around her waist and lets himself rest the side of his head on her stomach, closing his eyes when Doyeon pats the crown of his head.

“Belated happy birthday, Jungkook.”

Jungkook chuckles. “Thanks. You’re unusually mushy today.”

Doyeon pinches his ear slightly which earns her a groan.

The two stay like that for a few more seconds when suddenly, Jungkook hears a familiar voice.

“Oh, h-hey guys,”

Jungkook immediately looks ahead to see you standing from the other side of the terrace, looking at him and Doyeon. At that, Doyeon lets go of him, twisting her body to look in your direction. Jungkook retreats his arms back to his side and smiles to acknowledge you.

“I thought you were sleeping already.” He says.

“Yeah, what brought you here?” Doyeon asks.

You approach them with unusually slow steps, as if reluctant. “Left my wallet here. Just realized it a while ago,” you say. After that, you stop on your tracks. Your gaze falls between them with an unsure smile on your face. “You two drinking?”

“Nah, Jungkook is.” Doyeon says, pointing to the bottle of Smirnoffs on the small table beside Jungkook’s chair. Then, she looks under her own. “Where’d you leave your wallet?”

“Over my chair earlier.” You give her a smile again. But somehow, it looks a bit awkward. A little forced. Jungkook knows you well enough to identify your smiles.

And as he looks at you longer, he realizes you have a certain color on your face, but it’s one of those expressions he can’t read.

“Well,” you blurt out after a beat of silence. Looking around, you go over to where you were sitting earlier then duck. “I think I left it here…” you trail off. Jungkook’s just about to stand up to help as well when you suddenly pull up a brown leather, grinning at both of them. “Yay.”

Jungkook chuckles. “That would’ve been the third wallet you’ll lose this year.”

You mirror his laughter, and Doyeon joins in.

There’s another pause and then hesitantly, you ask, “Did I… uh… disturb something? Or…”

“What?” Doyeon asks with furrowed brows. “No,”

“Ah, okay,” you smile at her and then insert your wallet in your shorts. “Anyway, I’m heading back to Mingyu. The villa he rented is just at the back of ours, so… feel free to visit anytime or whatever.”

“Sure.” Jungkook says. He didn’t mean it to sound clipped and short but he must have unintentionally let the tone slip, as you and Doyeon immediately give him a look. He clears his throat. “I mean, of course. Tomorrow?”

You nod.

You look at him. And then, you point between him and Nayeon. “Are you two staying up here late?”

“Nah, I’m heading to bed actually.” Doyeon says, picking up her phone from the sun lounger.

“Yeah, me too.” Jungkook puts the beer to the coffee table and stands up.

You nod. “Okay, then. Well, good night to you two.”

“Alright, good night. I’ll head out first.” Doyeon says before disappearing into the sliding door that leads straight to the villa’s living room.

You soon turn your heels back to head out as well, but Jungkook calls after you. Turning around, you hum, acknowledging him. “Hm?”

“Good night, stinky.”

You deadpan. “Night, fucker.”

Jungkook laughs, watching your retreating back as you leave.

[ DAY 4 | September 3rd , 3:05 am ]

Jungkook likes to work out when he has a lot in his mind. But sometimes, he opts for jogging or walking around to clear his head.

With the turn of events since Mingyu’s arrival and Doyeon informing him about your plans on furthering your relationship with Mingyu, he finds himself along by the shore at three am with high hopes to clear his mind. It doesn’t give the solution, but it temporarily does the job.

Inserting his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, he looks ahead at the view of the ocean, trying so hard to shut his head down with overbearing thoughts of you. It’s no use, though, it’s always filled with thoughts of you and you alone.

Jungkook thinks about the time in med school when he thought he was completely over you. It had been after you made it official with Eunwoo two months into seeing him. He thought it would be a “bigger person” thing to do, moving on, that is, after you announced that you got a boyfriend – but then later on, when he slept with other women or had his casual dates, you suddenly popped up in his head randomly, and his heart suddenly ached when Eunwoo would drop by the university to fetch you. He felt ugly bitterness when you smiled too much whenever Eunwoo was brought up in the conversation. He found himself wishing it was him instead – the guy you thought of buying shirts for, the guy you randomly thought of when you saw something at the mall or the park, or the guy you called when you needed anything.

It was that winter break in freshman year when he realized that he loved you, after trying hard to brush his feelings off for you as a mere infatuation because you were gorgeous and smart.

He finds himself thinking about the time when he almost let out his heart when you had a fall-out with Eunwoo during your third year. Thinks about how pathetic he was for thinking that he finally had the chance. It had been when you called him at midnight, crying onto the phone as you asked him if he wasn’t busy. Jungkook had been studying for a Clinical Skill Assessment at that time, but he’d have been a fool to make you feel lonely when you already seemed like you were not fine. So, he had set aside his studying that night and went right over to your place. You told him about how Eunwoo was going cold, how Eunwoo was getting too close to the senior architect at his firm which you’d been having huge arguments about during those days – Jungkook remembered feeling broken at the sight of you crying, could feel himself building up hatred for the guy who was fucking up his chance with the woman he did not deserve. He thought about how he would never do that to you, thought about how he could be better for you – the envy bubbling inside his heart too big to ignore.

Jungkook remembered thinking how he would never fuck up any chances with you, and how Eunwoo was a fucking idiot for even making you feel that way.

That night, he almost kissed you. And the day after that, you avoided him like the plague.

Doyeon told him he was just as much of a big fucking idiot as Eunwoo for doing that. And Jungkook remembered regretting that night, and swearing off to never, ever make a move on you ever again because your avoidance of him made him feel like the biggest fucking piece of shit to ever exist on Earth.

He remembers you didn’t talk to him for about a month. And he remembers fearing that that was finally it.

Of course, you made up – you’re still in his life. You let him still be in your life even though he betrayed your trust. The trust that lies on the fact that he was your best friend. Someone who was not supposed to take advantage of your vulnerability, someone who did not suddenly try to kiss you when you were at your worst.

It was a memory you two weren’t fond of. Heck, you’ve never ever brought it up not even once since it happened. When you finally talked to him again after that, you did not let him apologize for what he did – just shut him down by saying that you two should just forget about it and never mention it again. You made it clear that you did not want to talk about it – not at all, not in a million years.

Again, Jungkook has had a million attempts to move on. Especially when you got back together with Eunwoo. He did temporarily, when Sora came into the picture. He genuinely did like her, even more than his first girlfriend in college, and he thought he could eventually love her the same way he does you, but Eunwoo suddenly proposed… and his defense came crumbling down. The fear of losing you once again was too overwhelming that he ruined the relationship with Sora because admittedly, he had always been pathetic like that.

Even now that you’re with Mingyu, he’s still pathetic. He still thinks that one day, you can finally look at him. Like, really look at him and feel anything but friendly towards him. It’s extremely pathetic that he keeps on telling himself that your friendship will be enough, but then deep down, it’s not.

Jungkook shuts his eyes close when he feels the cool breeze of the wind hitting his skin under the hoodie. He lets himself stand there for a while, just trying to bask in the surroundings, ignoring the heavy feeling that sits in his heart.

But then he smells a sudden waft of smoke, and he knits his brows as he opens his eyes back again, turning to the direction of the smell.

When he turns back, he sees a familiar figure of a man.

“Mingyu?”

Mingyu glances back at him with the same surprised look on his face, but it disappears just as quickly. Pinching the cigarette between his fingers, he blows smoke in the air and inserts one hand in his shorts.

“Jeon.”

“Still Jeon to you, huh?” Jungkook sneers, walking over to where Mingyu is. “Why are you here?”

Mingyu arches a brow. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“Woke up a few minutes ago and couldn’t get back to sleep.”

Taking a hit of his cigarette again, Mingyu shakes his head. “That’s tough.”

“Same with you?” Jungkook asks.

“Nah. Had a discussion with my girlfriend. Just wanted to clear my head.”

Jungkook nods, not saying anything to that. It’s weird that you’ve been fighting a lot lately. He wonders if you’re okay.

Pulling out a pack of Marlboro and a lighter, Mingyu extends them to Jungkook.

He looks down at it and thinks about how this exact thing happened in college. Mingyu always had the pack of cigarettes and the link to the best weed man in college. He used to think they would be fond memories.

But Jungkook shakes his head, looking ahead.

“I quit years ago.” He says. And it is true. He wasn’t much of a smoker and only did it occasionally when he was extremely stressed, but it took him awhile to stop the habit completely, only dropping the cigarettes during second year of med school. Jungkook would say it was due to his own concern about his health – but there was an incident in the same year where you caught him smoking at the uni’s park after a particularly taxing exam, and how you did not hesitate to tell him that you hated – absolutely abhorred – smokers. You said you didn’t care if he smoked, but as a med student he should’ve known better.

He never touched that shit again.

“Changing your ways now?” Mingyu says with a teasing – more like mocking – tone, inserting the pack and lighter back in his pants.

Jungkook shrugs at that, which earns him a scoff from Mingyu.

“Do you smoke around her?” Jungkook suddenly asks.

“Who?”

“__.”

A beat of silence. And then Mingyu laughs.

“No. She doesn’t know I smoke. She doesn’t have to.”

Good. Jungkook thinks. Good that he doesn’t smoke around her. But what did he mean by saying she doesn’t need to know?

“She doesn’t like smokers, you know.” Jungkook tells him.

From his periphery, Jungkook sees Mingyu glancing at him. It takes a while for him to say something.

“You’d know that, huh?”

The dip in his tone makes Jungkook meet his gaze. Suddenly, the smirk on Mingyu’s face is gone, and there’s something behind his eyes that he can’t quite put a finger on.

Jungkook tries to ignore that. “I’ve known her for a long time. The others can also tell you that.” He says, referring to the rest of your friends on the trip.

“You think I don’t know?”

With furrowed brows and growing confusion, Jungkook stares at Mingyu.

“What?”

“That you like my girlfriend.” Mingyu spits the words out like venom in his mouth, but it’s in a way that tells him it’s been sitting with him for far too long. Jungkook’s surprised at the declaration, feels himself being taken aback by the blunt way he said it as if he’s so sure.

But Jungkook doubles down, to Mingyu’s surprise.

“So?”

That obviously wasn’t the answer the other man wanted to hear. So, what? He can dish it, but he can’t take it?

“You’re goddamn pathetic, then.” Mingyu says after awhile, taking a hit on his cigarette again.

It itches the bubbling anger Jungkook has had for him for the past ten years.

“I like __, and I’m not gonna deny that to you,” Jungkook faces him. “But you don’t have to worry about that, because unlike you, I have enough self-respect to not sleep with my friend’s girlfriend.”

It’s another response that Mingyu does not expect. Jungkook also did not mean to let that out. But his tongue glided with the words and he couldn’t help it. Suddenly, memories of junior year in undergrad comes back flashing to him; Jiyeon and Mingyu, fucking in his goddamn bed, his girlfriend cheating on him with his best friend.

Jungkook’s already moved on from that. Jiyeon was not a loss, even though she was his first girlfriend – heck, first love even, but she cheated on him. And not just with anybody but his best friend at the time. The worst thing was that Mingyu was completely in on it, and Jungkook doesn’t think he ever felt remorse about what happened back then. Mingyu gave him a half-assed apology the day he walked in on them, even had the gall to “explain” Jiyeon’s side, that apparently, she just wasn’t “feeling it” with Jungkook anymore, and that Mingyu and her had been hitting it off. Jungkook realized it was why Mingyu suddenly came over way too often over at his apartment.

It’s exactly why he never bothered to meet with Mingyu after graduation. Why he was not enthusiastic meeting him at the engagement party.

But that happened so many years ago that he thought Mingyu’s changed. He didn’t want to burst your bubble and tell you what happened between them back then because he’d be the one to ruin the happiness you’ve wished for all these years.

“I see you’re still hung up on that.” Mingyu says after a while. He throws the cigarette away and steps on it with his heel.

Jungkook’s jaw ticks in what he feels is growing rage. “I’ve moved on. I’m just letting you know that even though I like __, I’m never doing what you did back then.”

“You’re such good guy, then?”

“If not cheating makes me a good guy, then maybe I am.” Jungkook shrugs.

“Jiyeon was a bitch. She was never gonna be good for you.” Mingyu suddenly says.

It makes Jungkook seethe. “And so you fucked her?”

“She liked me better than you. Women always liked me more, that’s why I was going through them while your goody-two shoes virgin prude ass was daydreaming about dating to marry. You remember that, right?” Mingyu looks at him with a mocking stare. “And Jiyeon was smoking hot. She offered, I just delivered. Said you couldn’t make her cum properly. We could have shared her, you know?”

“Fuck you.” Jungkook spits out. He feels enraged and pissed and disgusted all at the same time.

“Are you getting mad?” Mingyu levels him with an infuriating smirk. “You always got a stick up in your ass, Jeon. Kyungmi told me you’re just a regular playboy these days, said it was the effect of your first girlfriend cheating on you. Right now, though, is that just a front to hide your feelings from my girlfriend? A pathetic boy best friend just wanting to be noticed by his hot girl best friend? You play that role so well. Telling me she’s lactose intolerant, she doesn’t like smokers… you want to fuck her so bad it’s laughable because you know you can’t.”

“Don’t… fucking talk about her like that.” Jungkook growls, and he feels blood rushing through his veins.

Mingyu shakes his head. “You know what I thought when I first met her? I was completely interested right away, but when you showed up…” He chuckles in the way that makes Jungkook’s skin prickle. “It just made me want her more.”

“You’re fucked in the head.”

“This fucked in the head guy got the girl you want wanting to commit to him. I don’t know if she told you, but we’re moving in together.”

Jungkook pokes his tongue to his cheek. “You think I won’t tell her about this?”

“You think she’s gonna believe you?” Mingyu fires back. Jungkook closes his mouth, doesn’t really know if he’s confident enough to say yes. That earns him an arrogant smirk from Mingyu. “That’s right, she won’t. I have no doubt she’s gonna choose me over you. Jiyeon has had before. And if you’re gonna fight the same battle again this time, you’ll lose.”

Jungkook regulates his breathing hearing his words. He’s starting to not see clearly, his fist clenching on his side and he knows better than to resort to violence, but Mingyu’s testing his patience.

He’s completely wrong for thinking that he isn’t the same asshole he was back in college. He’s completely wrong for not telling you about him sooner. He’s completely wrong about everything.

Glancing at his hand, Mingyu looks him in the eyes, leaning forward. “You wanna hit me just like how you did back then? You almost fucking killed me when you gave me that head injury that kicked me out of the fucking team.”

The head injury. That fucking head injury. Jungkook was so mad when he found out that he just saw pure red. It wasn’t his best moment – he knows. He lost control and just… went for it. He still regrets doing it – not punching Mingyu – but for losing it when he could’ve shown him that he’d always be the bigger person between them both.

He’s quiet and Mingyu takes that as a win. Scoffing, Mingyu says, “I could’ve reported you to the admin and you could’ve been expelled, and if that happened, you couldn’t have gone to med. You are where you are right now because of me, so don’t fucking show that animosity towards me because you fucking owe me one.”

Jungkook can’t help but laugh. But he does so humorlessly. “You really think that?” He stares at the other guy. “You’re just as delusional as you were back then, Gyu. You think everybody liked you – but that was just because you were a touch-deprived loser who would fuck anything that breathed near him, and I wasn’t. I only entertained women I liked. You thought you were smarter, but I was always the one who got the better and higher grades, even though you studied way harder. Is that why you went with law? So you won’t have to compete with me in the med field? I also know you were pissed as fuck when the captain title was passed on to me instead of you,” Jungkook leans closer as well. “You’ve always thought of yourself so highly, but deep down, you were just an insecure little boy trying to compete with another guy that didn��t even see you as competition because you were that irrelevant.”

Mingyu, in his own fir of rage, grabs Jungkook’s collar, but Jungkook stays in his place, face stoic as Mingyu snarls, “You keep running your mouth while you cry yourself to sleep because those don’t mean anything when I’m the one fucking the love of your life,” Jungkook visibly recoils to that, and when Mingyu notices, he smirks, adding, “Yeah, yeah, you wanna know how __ is in bed? Because you’ll never see her sopping wet when you give her cock. That angelic face of hers… you’ll never know she’s a slut the way that filthy mouth asks me to fuck her harder because I am that goo—”

He wasn’t able to finish his sentence when Jungkook’s heavy fist suddenly lands on his cheek.

That effectively gets Mingyu to let go of Jungkook’s collar as he loses his balance and steps backwards limply, thumbing the side of his mouth only to see blood.

Whisking away his fist, Jungkook looks at Mingyu with fire in his eyes and venom in his voice when he says, “Don’t you ever fucking dare talk about her like that, you fucking piece of shit.”

The moon hangs low in the sky, casting a silvery white glow over the beach, but the comforting sound of waves and the calm of the surrounding is a contrast to the rising tension between Jungkook and Mingyu.

When Mingyu doesn’t say anything, Jungkook turns on his heel, ready to leave, but suddenly, he feels the back of his shirt getting pulled and being met with a fist right on his cheek, close to his nose. He barely dodges the hit, taken aback by the unexpected attack.

“Fuck you.” Mingyu grits, eyes blazing.

With that, the fight intensifies, with Jungkook throwing a quick jab back. Mingyu retaliates with as much fury, the two of them grappling, their bodies colliding with violent force. Soon, the sound of their grunts and the occasional crash of a punch against flesh is drowned out by the crashing waves.

And then a familiar voice calls their names.

“Jungkook! Mingyu!”

“Oh my god!”

Jungkook’s suddenly being taken away by somebody by his arms, and he realizes it’s Taehyung when he speaks up again once he and Mingyu are off each other.

“What the fuck are you two doing?” Taehyung asks incredulously, rightfully shocked at what he’s seen. Jungkook forces his way out of Taehyung’s hold in frustration, wiping the side of his mouth. Mingyu’s on the other side a few inches away being hesitantly held down by Nayeon, who looks at all of them with deep worry in her eyes. Turning to her, Taehyung says, “Call Doyeon and __. They’re sleeping in the same room together at the villa.”

“You don’t need to do that,” Jungkook says, glaring at Taehyung.

He looks at him angrily. “You’re fistfighting with somebody at fuck o’clock in the morning. We’re going to get run off by the police, be thankful we saw you.”

“I-I’ll call Doyeon and __.” Nayeon stutters, reluctantly pulling away from Mingyu and going to the direction of the villas.

When she leaves, Taehyung looks between the two beaten up men, not believing their busted faces. Rubbing his own with his hands in frustration, he looks back at them again, saying, “What the fuck happened to you guys? Why were you fighting?”

“It’s none of your business.” Mingyu says.

Taehyung glances at him with irritation. “None of my business? Fuck off, Kim Mingyu. You joined in on this trip. Everything that happens here is quite literally each other’s business.”

“Tae.”

“I can’t believe you guys,” Taehyung shakes his head, ignoring Jungkook. “Fighting like goddamn immature teenagers… are you not embarrassed?”

Looking away, Jungkook decides to sit on the sand and let Taehyung’s words go from one ear to another. His energy is waning and the rage he had a while ago is just simmering down to… nothing. He feels absolutely empty.

“Jungkook?” He doesn’t realize the steps that were coming towards them were you and Doyeon. It’s obvious that you’ve both been sleeping, still in your pajamas as you rush towards their direction. He looks at you when you call his name, but then suddenly, you turn to Mingyu. “Ming— what happened?”

Jungkook feels his heart break when you come towards Mingyu’s direction first. He knows why you did. He’s your boyfriend, of course you are going to tend to him first.

Suddenly, he remembers what Mingyu said. About you choosing him over Jungkook.

Jungkook didn’t doubt that, but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt a little to see it fully realized.

“Jungkook– Jesus Christ,” Doyeon comes over to him and quickly checks his head. With knitted brows, she casts him a look.

“I’m fine.”

She’s about to say something, but then she closes her mouth and then glances at you.

Sighing, she turns to everyone and announces, “Look, let’s just get them back to the villa. Treat their wounds before they get infected.”

“Right.” Taehyung says and then comes over to Jungkook to help Doyeon guide him in walking. He relents first because he doesn’t need their assistance, but Taehyung looks at him and he knows he’s pissed. So, he lets them.

As he tries to subtly look over to where you were, you have your arm around Mingyu’s waist while Nayeon helps guide him as well.

It takes a tedious few minutes to get back to the villa where Doyeon and Taehyung decide to take care of him in his room while Nayeon and you tend to Mingyu back in your room.

Doyeon nor Taehyung doesn’t say anything the whole time. Just let the silence fall in the room as they clean his wounds and put bandages around the cuts on his face and treat his busted lip.

He knows they’ll talk to him in the next few hours. It’s inevitable. But at least they’re sparing him for tonight – or today, since it’s almost four am.

Jungkook regrets not seeing the sunrise.

[ READ BELOW ]

this chapter is not over yet! tumblr has a 1k paragraph/block limit in a single post and so i can't put the whole thing in this. please look thru the reblogs to read the last scene and the continuation of this chapter!

#jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook x reader #mingyu x reader #bts imagines #bts scenarios

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moondirti · 6 months

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cws: creepy behaviour that leads into future dubcon. you’re not enthusiastic but don’t hate it either? idk how to tag this

a home loaning system where civilians (who pass a thorough vetting by the military) can sublet their home as a safe house for any soldier who might need it.

you’re no patriot. when you sign up, you aren’t doing it to serve those who serve your country like the website suggests. in fact, it’s a last ditch attempt to keep yourself afloat after your roommate moves out and leaves you with a rent you can’t feasibly afford yourself. sacrifice your space in exchange for your housing fully paid for and a headache gone – it’s appealing, certainly, a little too good to be true. you’d suspect it a scam if the url didn’t end in .gov.

they ask for a lot, of course. a photo. your national insurance number, passport details and travel history from the past 10 years. occupation (student, which prompts a second question asking for your school and university ID). a ‘robust’ paragraph about your living habits. family history, health details. you must black out at one point, as you find yourself hitting submit hours later with no knowledge of what to expect.

that is, if you should expect anything. a confirmation email arrives moments later, and that’s the last you hear of it.

until 4 months later. a hefty sum hits your account, set to the exact amount you specified your rent + utilities to cost. the sender is the only indication you get that you’ve been accepted: the royal army pay corps. on their dime now, and expected to act with the utmost discretion – for your sake as much as theirs. you spend that night fighting sleep on the couch, waiting for a knock by some zealot in fatigues.

no one shows up.

not immediately, at least. gratefully – and a tad surprising given your infamously cheap government – you’re paid regardless of whether anyone requires your service or not. for weeks you treat it as passive income, gauze against bleeding finances, tamping your stress so you can focus on your studies instead. life begins to look up. the air smells a little crisper every morning. you sleep deep and well.

but the knock comes. belatedly, but it comes.

at 12 am, no less. you had resolved to pull an all-nighter to study for your midterm, so you don’t miss the low rap of knuckles against your door. though at this point, you’ve long forgotten of the expectation that can be delegated to you at any time. your apartment’s a mess: laundry unfolded, dishes stacked in the sink. what’s more, your spontaneous guest scares you out of your right mind. a quick look through the peephole is enough to tell you that he is not the pizza delivery man, but a figure towering just below two metres, dressed in a balaclava and plain hoodie.

“who is it?” you call out, scrambling for an offensive weapon of any sort. you end up with a broom from the nearby cleaning cupboard.

“lieutenant riley.”

oh.

you crack open the door, poking your head out to give him a thorough once over. “you don’t look very military-like.”

“wha’ a shame.”

lieutenant riley then gives you no choice but to step aside, driving himself through the entryway through brute force. your instinct is to react with pure terror, tripping backward until the broomstick crosses firmly over your chest. yet flight rapidly switches to fight as he dumps his duffel bag by your shoe rack and rummages through your fridge.

“hey! don’t they teach you manners in basic?”

“wouldn’ last a day if they did, pet.” he tucks three water bottles under his arm, then picks his stuff off the ground once more. amidst the warmer light of your home, he stands as a herculean anomaly. shoulders that fill the foyer, each hand as large as your skull. his eyes – shadowed, framed in isolation from the rest of his face. and when he stares, unease bleeds into you. as black and void as his civic garb, forming a tightening grip over your heart.

this strange man is in your home.

this strange, large, dangerous man is here to stay for however long he needs.

he lacks all propriety and unabashedly ogles at your bare legs, adjusting himself in plain sight – and to make things exponentially worse, he isn’t uninvited. you brought this man here.

(which means you’ll have to put up with the strange violation already settling in your chest.)

“your… your room is on the left.”

he says nothing, disappearing to where you point him.

so, the lieutenant is a fucking nightmare.

whatever benefits came with having your rent paid for are immediately negated by the amount of food he consumes. groceries that last you a fortnight are gone in a matter of days, which is perplexing given that you never see him cook. you imagine he slips whatever he can down his throat before going back into hibernation, like some beast too primal for preference.

you call it hibernation because that’s what it is. he knocks out for hours, door locked, no sound or light coming from the gap underneath. you once spent half an hour just listening in after he hadn’t shown face all day, wondering whether you’d be making a call to corpse control for the dead body in your guest room. the effort had been purely motivated by concern, you swear it, however hard that was to explain when he stepped out a few minutes later to find you on your knees, cheek pressed against the floor.

the look he gave you is impossible to forget. hungry, amusement palpable behind the eyes that immediately fix onto your raised behind. you stopped wearing pyjama shorts that day. partly due to your discomfort, but mostly because the pair goes inexplicably missing from your laundry basket. a voice tells you to check under his pillow when he steps out, but the possibility is far too upsetting to seriously consider.

not like he’s above it, though. he crosses so many boundaries, you’d think they weren’t common courtesy.

of such instances: in the months since your roommate moved out, you’d gotten into the bad habit of keeping the bathroom door unlocked. while that is your fault, the terror himself isn’t blameless given his address of the situation. he should be able to hear the water running as you brush your teeth or wash your face, and yet he walks in anyway, pulling his heavy cock out to piss as you try to ignore the way it heaves between his legs, even when completely soft.

“doyewmind?” you hiss one morning, mouth still full of foam. it looms in your periphery, fat and ruddy. a trail of wild hair leading down to–

riley shoots you a blank look. “no’ at all.”

then tucks himself back into his pants, hand smoothing across your lower back as he slips out. it occurs to you to be grateful that he keeps away when you shower, up until the absolute absurdity of your standards hit you like a killing blow.

the bar is in hell.

(yet you sneak a finger between your legs sometimes, only when you’re absolutely sure you’ve locked the door, and imagine how things would unfold if he were to infringe on your most basic of rights.)

it doesn’t take long before your quiet fantasy is realised. all it takes is for you to come home particularly late one night – heels in hand and makeup a mess after letting yourself loose at the end-of-term party – to find riley waiting on you, unmasked.

[next]

#sorry ive been really into mean creepy nasty man simon lately #ill edit in the morning💤#simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader #simon ‘ghost’ riley #ghost #simon riley #simon ghost riley #x reader #cod #call of duty #fanfic

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childrenofcain-if · 1 month

Text

DEMO

Wealth. Power. Death.

The Ballad of the Young Gods is a dark academia interactive fiction story, with dark fantasy and psychological thriller themes. Some of the romances also contain tropes and storylines which may be disturbing to some readers.

It is based on media like “Ninth House” by Leigh Bardugo, “The Secret History” by Donna Tart, “Masters of Death” by Olivie Blake, and SYFY’s “Deadly Class”.

It is rated 18+ for depictions of swearing, sexual themes, gore, violence, and death.

Getting into an Ivy League school is a dream that thousands of American students nurse from a young age. Luckily for you, that dream is your reality. Four years of continuous hard work and pressure have made you a proud freshman at Yale University. And as if that wasn’t enough, you have been handpicked to attend Rathore College, whose selection process is revered across all the nation’s top educational institutions. But you should’ve known this stroke of luck came with a catch.

Yale is a crucible of power, where secret societies wield arcane magic and the dead are far from silent. The illustrious House of Styx wants you and this is a situation that not even your money can get you out of.

They are powerful, elite, and most of all, controlling beyond recognition. They are also the heart of the eight secret societies that attach themselves to Yale. From the White House to Hollywood’s most acclaimed stars, their influence reaches farther than anyone can dare to imagine.

A sinister conspiracy brews under Styx’s watchful gaze, one that threatens to unravel the fragile balance between the living and the dead. But in a graveyard of secrets, you and your accomplices are the ones with the shovels. You’re now in a world where the past is never truly dead, and the lines between life and death blur with each passing day.

But some secrets are better left buried, and some prophecies are destined to drag you to hell.

Cédric Armand Lacroix / Céline Armelle Lacroix (M/F)

Vindictive. Conniving. Ruthless.

As the heir to the Lacroix fortune, C is every bit as arrogant as their bloodline demands them to be. Even after the messy divorce of their parents which further led to their disownment by their father, Alain Lacroix, they refuse to give up on their dignity. They’ve vowed to destroy him one day and take what’s rightful theirs, brick by brick. The world bent to C’s whims, what money couldn't buy them, those pale green eyes probably did.

There is nothing that they can’t have, especially if they set their mind to that. That is until you came along and stayed one step ahead of them every time in everything that mattered. It wasn’t just the fortune or the legacy at stake; it was the bruising of their pride, the constant reminder that someone—anyone—could outmaneuver them. But beneath the layers of resentment and anger, there’s something more—something darker, even more dangerous.

An obsession takes root, one that blurs the line between hatred and fascination. And they vow to spend their whole life despising you for everything.

Romance trope: Enemies / Academic Rivals to Lovers.

Vance Kasper Næsholm / Vanessa Karina Næsholm (M/F)

Pious. Haunted. Disillusioned.

Raised under the oppressive influence of a rigid, fire-and-brimstone faith in a Danish Catholic orphanage, they were taught to see demons in every shadow and sin in every touch. Forever haunted by the visions provided by a wrathful God they can neither fully grasp their mind around nor escape from, their only reprieve came on the day they got adopted at the age of six and diagnosed with schizophrenia. But the truth of their ‘psychosis’ may be far more sinister than any medical diagnosis could account for.

As the tides become even stormier and their medications become ineffective when they arrive at Yale, all V can do is hold on to the last threads of control over their lives. Your first meeting almost makes them teeter over the edge.

Now that they’re your roommate, they’re bound to you by fate or folly, but whether they’ll be a stable ally remains to be seen.

Romance trope: Roommate Romance.

Wilhelm Johann Ostendorf / Wilhelmine Johanna Ostendorf (M/F)

Exhausted. Abandoned. Lost.

What does the world think of you when you’re a product of brilliance and neglect at the same time? With an Oscar-winning filmmaker for a father and a mother ensconced on the American board of directors at the Louvre, their pedigree is undeniable, yet it is a legacy more hollow than it appears. While their parents sculpted their careers into masterpieces and amassed accolades, they left W to be raised by their paternal aunt and uncle. A sizeable trust fund and periodic checks served as their parents’ only gestures of care, a shallow substitute for the love and attention their only child so desperately craved.

The only times they had felt more than someone who was deeply unlovable were the summers you spent on rusty swingsets and fast bicycles with training wheels. But the swingsets have long been dismantled, and the bicycles have been traded for cars.

The only questions remain—are you the same kid who saw them, really saw them, beyond the reality of being unwanted and the suffocating looks filled with pity that came with their name? Or will this reunion only serve to confirm their deepest fear—that they are, and always have been, truly alone?

Romance trope: Forgotten Childhood Friends to Lovers.

Dumitru Constantin Diaconu / Dumitra Constantina Diaconu (M/F)

Charismatic. Reckless. Guarded.

D’s name is the one that comes up in almost every conversation about Yale’s wildest parties. A natural-born rockstar charmer with a magnetic presence, they effortlessly draw people into their orbit, collecting hearts and bodies with the ease of someone who’s always been in the center of the gold rush. Despite the countless admirers and the trail of broken hearts left in their wake, you’ll always find them with a Marlboro between their lips and a new person in their arms to warm their bed at night. Their smile is a promise, and their laughter a siren call. In the haze of flashing lights and the thrum of bass that pulses through the walls, they are a heartbreaker in every sense of the word.

Feelings are a complication they don’t allow, a line they never cross. They’ve perfected the art of detachment, of keeping their connections strictly no-strings, because to let someone in would be to risk the vulnerability they’ve long since sworn off.

Will you be the only person they'd let peel back the barbed wire surrounding their heart? Or will you be left with nothing but the faint scent of cinnamon and a tale that wasn't meant to be?

Romance trope: Friends with Benefits / Sex First, Feelings Later. [You will only be able to unlock their romance route through a hookup.]

Maxwell Edmund Whitlock-Singh / Maxine Edythe Whitlock-Singh (M/F)

Duty-bound. Noble. Untouchable.

Politeness and decorum are second nature to M. They are the embodiment of manners, a living testament to the art of subtlety in a world where spectacle often trumps substance. They are the sort of person who commands attention without seeking it, a product of both royal blood and rigorous self-discipline. Dubbed the “Paragon of Styx,” M is a modern Plato, someone who finds as much solace in philosophical debates as in the classical texts they’ve devoured in multiple languages. As the second-born child of the Crown Princess of Wales, they have always understood that their life would be one of service with every action scrutinized, and every word weighed.

Their intellect is vast, but it is their passion for the esoteric that sets them apart. For all their convictions, there is a restlessness within M that even they cannot fully articulate. It is the paradox of their existence—a life of privilege that feels at times like a gilded cage, a role that demands both reverence and obedience. Indeed, heavy is the head that wears the crown.

Will you make them realize that life is more than duties and expectations? Or will you become yet another figure in the background, another reminder of the golden cage they were born into?

Romance trope: Forbidden Royal Romance / Secret Relationship.

Step into the shadows as the wealthy heir apparent to a billion-dollar industry who is just starting at Yale University as a freshman.

Be a part of Yale’s most enigmatic secret society, the House of Styx.

Fully customize your character including: pronouns, gender, physical appearance, personality, sexuality, and more.

Romance 1 out of 5 love interests (all of them are gender-selectable). Or not. Platonic relationships are valid too.

Study forbidden knowledge, practice dark magic, and try not to fail at your actual coursework.

Test your mind, body, and soul in rituals that blur the line between reality and nightmare.

Learn about the secrets that your mother took to her grave. Is she really the same woman you remember so fondly from your childhood?

Will you rise to navigate the sinister plans brewing under the nose of the House? Or will your actions drag you and your companions to the fiery depths of Hell.

W̶̗͖̝͆h̷͕̲̑̎̓̍̄̎͠͝a̵̢̛̫̾̓͗t̴̙̫͛̐͆̾̀̓̔̊͝ ̴̪́́̈́͛̂̉̀͒̊́ạ̸̗̯̲̘̬͗̀ͅr̸̢̪̜̭̼̠̟̜͚̂̈́͋͋̅͑̉́̎͝e̸̩̯͉̿̊̔͛̃̎͝ͅ ̵̢̹̜̤͍͙̩̬̰̜̏̃͝͠y̷̢̨͇̘͍̌́͐̍̆̓̑̐ǫ̶̢̧̡̛̥̤͉͎̟̃̏̍̓̒ͅu̷̓̂̾̇̇͜͝,̸͎̖̮̲̳̻̱̬̎̒͑͝ ̸̡̛̰̌͐c̶̛̪̗̰̻̜̲̘̺͗͊h̴̡͔̦̘̤̖͊̿̓̇i̵͉̘͙̥͍̼̜̐̐̄̅͝͝ĺ̶̡̧̧̼̦̦̗̰̝̼̓̊̀d̸̡͎͔͔̰̖̿̐̈́̓͊̌̃̓͜?̷̩̗̲̫̮͕̍̈́́̽͜͝͝

DEMO (Sep ‘24)

RO DETAILS

SPOTIFY (for RO playlists, click on their names in the cast section)

WRITTEN BY: axel (he/him)

CODED BY: @albywritesfiction (they/them)

913 notes · View notes

asumofwords · 9 months

Text

Midpoint - Michael Gavey x Reader

Synopsis: The semester break came along quicker than you thought it would, and you decided to stay on campus for the break to get ahead in your studies. What will happen when you go head-to-head with a certain ill-tempered maths student in a war of pettiness?

Warnings: This fic is 18+, readers discretion is advised. Arguing, pettiness, name calling, low blows, tension, degradation, ripped stockings, finger fucking, rough fucking, fucking in public, p in v, creampie, cum eating.

Word Count: 8.7k

Notes: Hello my angels, Happy New Year, heres to all the filth that will continue to come from the cesspool that is my mind. Thank you all for your patience, I have been so excited to write for Michael, and so I hope you enjoy this as much as I have writing it !! heheh ;) <3

Part 2

There was a soft amber glow that cast over the library, the dark wood warming with the golden light that peaked through the windows, patches of wooden floors illuminated in some spots with coloured lights from stained glass windows.

For the most part, the library was empty bar three other students who had stayed behind for the break, getting ahead on their work for the next semester.

You were one of them, and with the sheer size of the library, you wouldn’t have known there were others inside if you had not seen them when walking down the endless isles of books in search for the ‘British Working Class Movements’ for your history course.

It didn’t take long for you to find it, and by the time you settled into a secluded corner down the back, the sun had already begun to set. You flicked on one of the green and gold table lamps and began to read, periodically taking notes on a page as you went.

It wasn’t that you needed to study ahead, it simply gave you something to do whilst the break droned on, few students having stayed behind making it lonely, but a bit more bearable than making the long trip home.

You loved the library, the stained wood, smell of old books lining the walls, and the quiet of the place was a nice haven to get away from the usual hustle and bustle of college. Everyone always seemed to be in a rush to either their next class or their next party, and although you weren’t a loner per se, you didn’t always feel like being in the constant lights and sounds that came with socialising. And so the library was the one place, besides your dorm, where you could have a nice piece of solitude.

Settling over the page, you gained a steady rhythm. Read about one movement, then write anecdotes as you went, taking the time to pause, re-read, and really absorb the information as much as you could. It was fascinating, and you enjoyed learning as much as you did.

By the third hour of continuous reading and note taking, your hand began to cramp, and so you decided it was time for a short break. You stood up from the desk, stretching your arms above your head, a small sigh escaping your lips as your back cracked and muscles pulled. You twisted your upper body to each side, softly grunting as you felt your back click again and again, sighing loudly as a particular pop took away an ache that had settled between your shoulders. You continued on with your languid stretches, trying to get some of the stiffness out of your body from being hunched over the desk for so long.

You wondered how much more time you should spend writing notes, or whether you could go back to your dorm and laze about on the bed. Luckily for you, you didn’t have a roommate, and were able to make the space feel much like your own. You didn’t have too much furniture, the room not allowing for it, just your essentials and a few trinkets here and there that you had collected. Your real pride and joy however, was a Peace Lily that you had saved from sure death. Now, it sat proudly on your study desk, growing dark green leaves and flowering its soft white flowers.

The idea of going back to your dorm seemed tempting, after all, you didn’t really have to be studying, and you had just recently bought the new Harry Potter book and wished to read some more of it, make a nice cup of tea, sink into your sheets and get lost into a fantasy world.

A soft jangling came from between one of the large book shelves, and soon a man peeked through. His icy blue eyes caught yours and you watched as he assessed you from where he stood, albeit awkwardly, gaze dragging up and down your body.

He was tall and lean, with sandy blonde hair that sat messily atop his head. He had a sharp aquiline nose, and lips that pulled up naturally in its corners.

You recognised him from somewhere, but where you couldn't be sure.

Perhaps he was in the same classes as you?

He continued to stare at you, shirt tucked into his pants, small carabiner attached with a USB dangling from a belt loop, his tongue pushed into his cheek.

“You right?” You asked, shifting on your feet, wondering if he needed something from you.

His lips pursed as he looked at you from down his nose, “Are you?”

You furrowed your brows, “Huh?”

“You've been moaning in the back of the library like a tart.”

You bristled, “I beg your pardon?”

Who the fuck-

“Some of us are trying to study.” His arms were stiff by his sides, and before you had the chance to reply, he spun on his heel, shoes squeaking loudly in the aisles as he marched away.

“What the fuck?” You whispered to yourself, feeling angry and also slightly embarrassed about the encounter.

Had you been making a lot of noise?

You didn’t think so, especially since the library was essentially empty anyway. You had even chosen the furthest corner of the floor as well, tucked away behind rows of books and out of sight.

You sat back down at the desk and tried to continue writing notes, but instead, you found yourself feeling far too self conscious, and wondered if you were even breathing too loudly. But before you got too self critical, you remembered that the library was practically empty, and you had specifically chosen a spot the furthest away from the other three students.

If your stretching and little sighs had disturbed him, he was either hanging around your area, or had the hearing of a bat.

So after about an hours more of study attempts and a half a page more of notes, you decided to call it a night, packing away your belongings before taking the book with you, not bothering to check it out.

As soon as you got back to your dorm, you headed straight to bed, not feeling in the mood to make a cup of tea or even open your new book, no longer looking forward to enjoying yourself and settling in. Instead you laid on your back staring at the ceiling, stewing about how the man in the library had spoken to you, and vowing that if you saw him again, you'd give him a piece of your mind.

And by your luck, you did see him again.

The very next day.

You got to the library around midday, deciding that you weren’t going to do a late night of studying, deciding to have a relaxing night in to pamper yourself, maybe even watch a movie in the common rooms if the tv free, or do as you had intended the night before; a cup of tea and your book, and maybe even some ‘me’ time.

The library, despite all its windows and the suns rays peeping through, was cold, and as soon as you stepped foot into it a chill ran over you. You walked through the endless rows of books, not seeing a soul as you climbed the stairs to the second floor, dust settled into the crooks and corners of the staircases and bannisters, the smell almost overwhelming, until finally, you saw him.

He was sat in the centre of the room at one of the large study desks, multiple books opened around him as he furiously wrote down notes and equations. His head didn’t lift at the sound of your footsteps, too busy in his own little world studying for God knows what, so much so, that it was a wonder that you had even managed to disturb him the day prior, which now only seemed to fuel your anger.

You were never one to back down.

You walked straight to him, toes almost kicking the leg of the table as you looked down at his neat writing, his hand flying across the page in rapid succession, no calculator in sight despite the lengthiness of the equations.

It was impressive, you noted begrudgingly, the way he worked so swiftly, and just was you were about to gain his attention, he spoke to you, hand not once slowing as he worked.

“What do you want?”

It wasn’t rude, just as it wasn’t polite. If anything, it was abrasive, like the rough cobblestones outside, and not once did he look up at you.

It caught you off guard.

Your mouth opened and shut as you tried to think of something to say.

Was it really worth being hot headed and saying something the day after?

Would he even remember?

Or would you be embarrassing yourself further?

Ultimately you gave up, deciding that there was no point to saying anything anymore, sighing in resignation as you walked around the length of the table continuing to yours.

You got about three steps away before he spoke again.

“Remember that you’re in the library this time.”

You spun, staring daggers into the back of his head, hand gripping the strap of your bag, “What the fuck is your problem?” Your chest heaved in anger, waiting for him to turn around or answer you, but he didn’t.

The sandy haired man continued his endless equations, leaving you standing behind him as though you had spoken to a ghost. It was maddening, the rush of your blood loud in your ears drowning out the steady scratch of his pencil.

How dare he?

He was just like all the others, like every other man on campus who felt they could speak however they like at any woman as though you were beneath them.

You stood there for what felt like minutes, but was mere seconds.

Realising that you weren’t to get an answer from him, you continued on your way to your secluded little table, stomping through the aisles, your footsteps echoing loudly in the space on the wooden floor.

When you got to the table, you all but threw your bag down, the heavy textbook slamming onto the wooden surface, making a large bang.

Never in your life had you been so agitated, ripping the chair away from the desk, letting the legs scrape on the mahogany floor.

One after the other, you yanked your books out of your bag, your notebook and pens, throwing them onto the table without a care. You could feel the heat of your anger creeping up your neck and into your face, and despite your attempts to calm yourself by studying, you ended up just re-reading the same paragraph over and over again, not once absorbing it.

By the time you decided to give up, the sun had begun to set, and so you hastily scrambled to shove your things back into your bag, not even bothering to tuck your chair in softly, throwing it against the desk and storming out the way you came.

He was still in his regular spot when you stalked past him, his head turned down as he read through his notes, multiple empty chocolate wrappersw spread across the table.

“Fucking asshole.” You muttered as you walked past him, not bothering to spare him a second glance as you huffed and stormed away, hoping to find some peace in your dorm.

When you got to your dorm, you were so hungry that you began to feel sick. Realising that in your anger you had forgotten to eat, you wandered down to the pub not far from campus and got a cheap little meal, eating quietly in the corner, a telly playing a soccer game on the screen in the back.

There weren't many patrons that night, but you could hear the pool table being used in the distance, the loud clacking of the balls being sunk, drowning out the soft sound of the telly. The pub stunk of stale beer and cigarettes, ring stains on all the wooden surfaces from sweating glasses.

It was still early when you finished, and so you made the decision to check out the commons and see if a tv was free.

The night air was cold as you walked back to your dorm, your teeth chattering in your skull as you sped walked, wrapping your arms around yourself to get back into the warmth of the old building. Lights illuminated the old stone walls in a yellow light, casting shadows on the cobblestones and bare trees around you.

It would have been spooky if you weren’t used to it by now, and could understand how first years would become spooked at night alone, walking through the courtyards.

As you made your way towards the common room in your building, you couldn’t help but think about the man in the library. His sandy hair, blue eyes, sharp features and sharper mouth. Who needed a heater when you had this man to fire you up? You could almost hear his grating tone as he mocked you, his glasses shining in the library as he looked down his nose at you.

He made you feel small, unwanted. But you had worked hard to get into Oxford, and you, whether he liked it or not, had earned your place.

It wasn’t unlike the men you already knew in STEM to be somewhat assholes, especially towards women or any degrees they deemed ‘unfit’ or ‘unworthy’. You had heard many scoffs and sneers at the Arts students, or English Literature kids, especially if it was women, from the STEM boys who seemed to hoard together like a bunch of flies. Or better yet, like a Rat King, unable to break the connection between each other despite how much they fought it.

It was, to follow the pun, a rat race.

The hall was dark as you walked to the commons, but from the window of the door, you saw the tale tell sign of the telly being on. You wondered momentarily if it was anyone you knew that had stayed back, perhaps one of the girls.

Maybe you could settle down with them and watch whatever mind melting soap opera was on, and lull yourself into a stupor.

The prospect of talking to someone almost dissolved your sour mood, and by the time you opened the door, peering into the flickering light illuminated room, a small smile had begun to pull at your lips.

But that smile was short lived as your eyes met a pair of pale blue ones.

You watched as his lips pulled down in recognition of you, his head turning to look back at the telly. Your heart began to race in your chest again, the door clicking shut behind you, the soft sound of Doctor Who’s theme song filling the room, the screen reflecting off of his rectangular lenses.

It didn’t help that the small drinks you had at the pub seemed to ignite your previous disdain for the man, as well as dampening your, for a lack of a better word, cognition.

In that moment, you were at a loss of what to do. You wanted to watch tv, but the idea of being anywhere near him infuriated you. Yet, at the same time, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction by leaving, indicating to him that you had given up, and that he had won.

“You going to stand there all night?” He teased cruelly, eyes not once turning back to you, locked on David Tenant as he ran through an abandoned warehouse.

You bristled, teeth grinding down against each other as you stormed past him, “Fuck you.” You dropped down onto the cushion on the other end of the couch.

From the corner of your eye, you could see his lips purse slightly, obviously hearing you.

No matter how much you tried, you could not get comfortable on the couch, and it wasn’t because the couch had a natural groove from the many people who sat in it, or the obvious stains on the covers and arms, some recognisable, others dubious, nor the permeating cigarette smell that emanated from deep within the foam, but rather because he sat all too comfortable beside you, watching a show you wished you could watch alone.

You shifted against the arm again for the umpteenth, huffing softly in the room. Your ass had fallen asleep because you sat ramrod straight and refused to relax, tucking your legs beneath you not leaning back. No matter what you did, you could not settle, body gearing up for a fight.

When you shifted again, it seemed to pull his attention away from David Tenants doctor.

“You gonna keep huffing in the corner like a baby?”

Your already fragile thread of patience snapped.

“What the fuck is your problem? Have I done something to you? I don’t even know who you are.”

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say to him. The man sneered, leaning towards you on the couch, “My problem is vapid little cunts like you. Getting by on mummy and daddy’s money whilst the rest of us have to work to stay here. You just party and fuck each other like rats.” His cold eyes razed up and down your body, watching as your face morphed from anger to offence, and then, to rage.

You shot up from your seat, moving to stand over him as he looked up at you, face barely containing his hatred.

“I don’t have ‘mummy’s and daddy’s money’, I’m here because I worked hard to be here.” You hissed, hands clenched into fists at your sides, “You know nothing about me.”

“I know you’re friends with Felix Catton and every other vapid, useless cunt that hangs off of his every breath.” His voice lowered, hatred simmering behind his light illuminated glasses.

Your brows furrowed, “Felix and I have a class together. Assigned seating. We walk there together. If-” You straightened, looking down at him before it hit you.

A laugh of disbelief flew from your lips, and soon enough the cocksure anger melted away from his sharp features, replaced by confusion.

“Wow.” You huffed, a bitter laugh filling the air, “You’re jealous.” His eyes narrowed on you, “You’re jealous of Felix.” You watched as his mouth snapped open, “Maybe if you weren’t so-“

“-I’m not fucking jealous of those nobodies.”

Snorting, you shook your head, “Nobodies… Yet people know their name. I don’t even know who you are.”

You waited for him to give you his name, to finally tell you who this infuriating man was, the credits of Doctor Who playing in the background as you stared at each other. Your chest heaved, but all you felt looking down at him was irritation.

“Your anger is misdirected." You growled, "I thought you would be smarter than that.”

The man's jaw ticked, “I thought you didn’t know who I was.”

“I don’t.”

You turned away, suddenly drained from the whole interaction. You didn’t bother to turn back and look at him, or even say another word. You wanted to go to bed, no, needed to go to bed and get away from the man on the couch before you tore your hair out.

As you opened the common room door, his voice called out to you.

“Y/n L/n.”

The way he said your name sent goosebumps rising on your skin, each syllable pronounced slowly, as though he was savouring your name on the tip of his tongue. Your hand paused on the door as you pushed it open, looking back at him.

“And who are you?”

Before he could answer, you left, slamming the door shut behind you. You marched straight back to your room, hands in such tight fists that your nails left half crescent moons in the flesh of your palms.

You lay awake most of the evening staring at the ceiling with the interaction on your mind.

He knew you by name, even thought you were friends with Felix, and whilst you weren’t not friendly with him, you wouldn’t say you were closely acquainted. You drank at the same parties sometimes or saw him down at the pub, but the only one-on-one time you had with him was in class.

Whoever this man was, and whoever he thought you were, he was wrong. And now he was going to regret it.

You knew he would be there, in fact you betted on it, getting up extra early to go to the library to do the one thing you planned on doing that day.

Piss him off.

If there was one thing that men hate the most in the world, it was not being in control, and that was doubled if it was with a woman.

You sat at the table he always did, spreading your textbooks and papers, pens, notes, snacks, water bottle, and even IPod Nano on its surface. You had brought extra things with you today in your bag to spread across the table, some things not even needed to study, but used to take up more space and soil his little territory.

The sun had barely even risen by the time you laid it all out, but you knew it would all be worth it.

And it was, because not even fifteen minutes later, he arrived to the sight of you at his desk, humming as you looked at your notes.

His feet stopped not too far from your (his) table, watching as you met his gaze, devoid of emotion. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling, watching as he clenched his teeth in irritation.

He was almost shaking with anger.

Got you.

You kept the image of innocence, looking back down at your notes as you tapped your pen against the tables surface loudly. You could see his fists clenching in your periphery at his side, his pale green button up shirt with long beige pants shifting side to side as he stood angrily watching you.

“What are you doing?” The blonde’s voice cut through the quiet of the library, irritation evident in his tone.

You didn’t bother to look up, pen still clicking rhythmically against the table, “Hm?”

“You think you’re clever, don’t you?”

Placing the pen on your page delicately, you looked up, “Pardon?”

The mans cheeks flushed an angry red as he stared down at you, lips pulling into a tight line, “Whatever you think-“

“-I’m sorry,” You interrupted him, leaning forward to look up into his eyes sweetly, “Do I know you?”

The man leant forward and sneered, “Gavey.”

“Gavey?” You titled your head, biting your lip softly in thought.

Why did that name sound so familiar?

“Yes.” He grit through his teeth, looking down at your spread notes and gear.

Then it came to you.

“Gavey! Michael Gavey!” You beamed up at him, leaning slightly forward on the desk.

Now you knew why he was so familiar.

“You’re the maths genius.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. Anyone who had heard about Michael Gavey knew about his stellar intellect when it came to maths, and unfortunately for him, they also knew about his little antisocial outbursts, “You yelled at Oliver on O week.”

You watched with delight as the anger fell momentarily from his face, and embarrassment replaced it. You leant further forward, putting both elbows on the table as you rested your chin on your hands, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Is it true then? You can do any sum just in your head?”

If it was true, he needed to be studied by a team of scientists.

And maybe a behavioural therapist.

Michael stood taller, proud to have been recognised for this part of him as he watched you bat your eyelashes at him. His shoulders rolled back, eyes glimmering with determination behind his glasses.

Men were so easy.

You just stroke their ego a little and their guard comes down immediately.

“Ask me.” His voice was soft, confident, waiting on bated breath to show off his born skill.

You smiled, “Alright. Seven-hundred-and-eighty-nine multiplied by six-hundred-and-fifty-four.”

Without missing a beat, “Five-hundred-and-sixteen-thousand-and-six.”

“Divided by twelve.”

“Forty-three-thousand point five.”

“Times nine.”

“Three-hundred-and-eighty-seven-thousand-and-four point five.”

You leant back in your chair watching him. It was impressive, and if he wasn’t such a prick, you would have openly praised him. But you didn’t have it in you in that moment to give him anything but a lengthy stare, using the time to get a good look at his face without the sneer.

He was handsome, a long face framed nicely by his ‘devil may care’ hair. You wondered if he even bothered to brush it in the morning. The longer you looked at him the more you could see how his sharp features and soft lips would in fact get him the attention he so desperately craved, if only he wasn’t as insufferable as he was. In fact, the more you thought about it, if things had been different, perhaps you would have pursued him, maybe even asked him out for a drink.

Instead, he had made an enemy for himself, and being petty at this point was a hobby for you that you took great time and pleasure in doing, especially if it was for assholes who made the first move unwarranted.

“Hm.” You tapped your pen against the table, “How do I know it’s correct and you're not just making it up?”

This seemed to anger Gavey.

“I’m not making it up. I do the sums,” He narrowed his eyes, “In my head.”

“I don’t have a calculator to confirm this. For all I know, you could be lying.”

The anger was back, “I’m not lying. I’m never wrong.”

“Sure.”

“I’m a genius.”

“Uh huh.”

Then came the vitriol, his shoulders tensed in rage, “What would you know anything about maths? You’re a History and Philosophy major.” Michael scoffed, seeming to think that his disdain for your degree would upset you in the slightest.

You sighed loudly, pulling the earphones from your Ipod to begin putting them in your ears. You looked at him pointedly, putting a sad little smile onto your lips.

Show time.

“It’s a shame, you know.” You said sadly.

“What?” Michael responded, over-eagerly.

The earphones sat in your ears and you scrolled down to a song you wanted, letting the music begin to play loudly just to piss him off, the noise turned up high enough for him to hear the lyrics. You didn't show it, but it was too loud, and most certainly hurt your ears, yet it was worth it to see his nose scrunch up.

“That you’re a snob.” Your voice rose over the music in your ears, unable to hear anything but the loud bass line that bounced in your head, “You’re actually cute when you’re not sneering at me.” You let your eyes drop back to your page, ignoring his presence as you strummed the pen loudly against the wood of the desk, unable to hear if he responded, but also not bothered to hear him. You had ended the conversation just the way you wanted.

And it would drive him nuts.

What you hadn’t seen was his mouth opening and shutting multiple times as a blush spread across his cheeks. He stood idly by, utterly unable to produce a single word or sound bar clearing his throat. Michael disappeared from your periphery as he left to sit at the table at the end, dropping into his seat to begin his studies.

But it proved to be fruitless, because as he attempted to settle into the endless stream of equations, all he could hear behind him was the tinny sound of your music blasting from your earphones and the steady grating tap of your pen.

He tried, in vein, for over an hour to focus, before giving up and storming out of the library. It was only then when you lifted your head, smiling at his retreating figure in triumph.

I win.

Not a word had been written on your page, and not a thing had been absorbed in your head. You lowered the volume of your music, a ringing settling into your ears, before packing up your things to go back to your dorm, deciding that a job well done was deserving of some respite, and in your good mood you would actually read your book.

You spent the rest of your day and better part of your evening reading, lounging, and snacking on some chips as you snuggled into your sheets.

Being the creature of habit that you were, you ended your triumphant day going to the pub to have another cheap meal and a drink or two, spending a considerable amount of the evening chatting up another student who had also stayed behind during the break.

He was cute, and funny, and although he hinted more than once that he would like to continue your evening back in either one of your dorms, you didn’t have the energy to entertain a potentially dull night of barely there pleasure.

He smiled too wide and had too much confidence to really know what he was doing, and you felt immediately that he would be the type to get his and leave you high and dry. So you parted, promising emptily to get another pint together soon enough, though you knew it wasn’t your stellar verbal company that he wanted.

Sinking into bed that evening was an easy and pleasurable experience. You crawled into your sheets, smile on your face and victory on your tongue. Your tit-for-tat was successful, and now you could finally just focus on your work, and not the sandy haired Michael Gavey who seemed to invade your every thought.

The sun trickled through the curtains by your bed, a warm stream of light hitting your face. You woke with a stretch, body slowly waking up with the day.

You didn’t have much planned after yesterdays success, and didn’t have a want to do much at all, but there was only so much lounging in bed one could do over the many weeks of break, so you decided to go back to the library, at least for an hour to make up for yesterdays losses (despite the personal win).

You looked around your room and settled on a skirt and some tights with a turtle neck sweater, unable to find anything else as a pile of dirty clothes had slowly accumulated in the corner. You made a note to yourself to take it to the laundromat later with some coins and your book.

The walk to the library was the same monotonous one as it always was. The same stone walls, the same dark wooden detailing and floor, the occasional beautiful stained glass window, and the ever strange silence of an empty college. There was a light layer of frost on the grass outside, and you wouldn’t be surprised if it would snow. The trees were bare except for a handful of orange and brown leaves, hanging on for dear life, or perhaps, holding on with dead fingers.

Rigor mortus of the petiole.

The steps creaked beneath your feet as you made your way up to your usual spot, the library cold as it always was, causing you to wish you had brought a warmer jacket with you. When you got to the landing, you expected to see him, sandy hair, glasses slipping down his sharp nose, hunched over the same textbook as he wrote out his equations with dizzying speed, but the tables were empty, and the aisles were barren, and all that was in the library was you.

Briefly you wondered for a moment if something has happened to him. Had he gotten sick? Too ill to crawl out of bed, laying in his sheets with a fever and no one to comfort him?

You frowned at the thought.

Why did you care?

His ego was likely too bruised to show his face, and was hidden in another alcove or other smaller library somewhere else, or perhaps even in his room.

Maybe he even had friends, and decided to spend the day with them, likely another student in STEM.

You could have sworn you saw him and Oliver Quick in the pub one night together.

You walked past his empty table and continued down the end to where your little nook was, grazing your fingers along the spines of the books as you went. Each ridge another spine, each spine another thousand upon thousand of words that had been read, dissected, and rewritten by many a student. You liked to think about how many hands had touched the pages, how many eyes had skimmed the words, how many bags, beds, tables, couches, cars or trains they had been in over the years, and how many times you had read them, or held them in the same spot.

You emerged from the isles to your nook.

It was not what you had expected that morning.

Certainly not what you had expected any morning come to think of it, but even so, your steps halted and your heart began to quicken, anger slowing creeping up your neck, heating your face.

He was sat at your table.

Your table.

His glasses had slid down almost to the tip of his nose, a long slender finger daintily pushing them back up to the bridge, lips pouted in their natural pout as his hand flew about his notes, writing equation after equation in a speed that would intimidate even Einstein. Michaels hair was disheveled, as though he had run his hand through it multiple times, as he contemplated the pros and cons of sitting there.

He must have landed on the pros.

“What are you doing.” You bit out, an irritating sense of dejavu seeping into your bones.

Michael didn’t look up at you, your feet almost pushing through the floor, anger rooting you in place.

“Hm?” Came his noncommittal reply.

It set you off.

“You’re in my seat.” You hissed, swiftly stepping towards him.

The light from the window beside him cast shadows across half his face as he looked up at you, he sucked his teeth loudly, “Your seat?”

“Yes.”

“I see.” His head dipped back down to his notes, his blue eyes looking up at you from under his lashes as his hand continued to write, “This is a public library. It’s a public seat.”

You stormed forward dumping your bag atop his hand, his pencil scraping across his notes on the paper, “You know exactly what I mean.”

His jaw ticked, steely blue eyes flicking to where you dumped your heavy bag atop his notes and own text book.

“I’m sorry, I’m not tutoring on break.” His tone all too demeaning as he over pronounced each word.

Your hands slammed down onto the desk as you leant forward towards his face, “I don’t need a tutor and you know it, you miserable little cunt.” Anger boiled inside of you, building and building, ready to burst.

Michael bristled, “Who the f-“

“-Oh, fuck you, Michael. You’re a miserable piece of shit, thinking you’re above everybody else, sneering at anyone who dares to be happy. I’ve seen you, always sulking about in the shadows because no one can stand to be around you.”

The silence was almost deafening.

Oh God.

That was a low blow.

You had taken it too far.

You swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling very guilty, “Michael,” You started, “That was-“

A pale hand lifted in front of your face, the man standing almost near silently in front of you. He went from below you, to towering above in a split second, his sheer size double your own. He stared down his sharp nose at you with a look of contempt, the rage behind his eyes flickering with barely held restraint.

“Do you want to know what I think?” His voice was low, lower than you had ever heard it go, emotion almost drained entirely from it except an icy edge which sent the hairs on the back of your neck on end.

You stayed silent, watching as he stepped away from the desk, chair scraping on the wood to come towards you slowly, your heart beating like a drum behind your ribs.

Though you could step back, his eyes kept you glued to where you were, head craned up to look at him as he came closer, the tension in his jaw growing with every passing second.

It was unnerving, and everything within told you to run, but something made you stay.

Call it guilt.

Or intrigue.

His hand dropped to his side, slow, calculated steps coming closer, each one as silent as the next as his cheek twitched whilst looking you over.

“I think,” He began, a foot away from you, voice low, “That you’re just desperate enough to accept the scraps that they give you, because you fear if you don’t,” Another step, taking him toe-to-toe with you, “That you’ll be a nobody like me.”

Your mouth became dry, lips slightly parted as a tinge of hurt spread through your chest.

You shook your head faintly, “I don’t think you’re a nobody.”

A brow lifted, “You called me a nobody.”

“I was wrong.”

“Wrong because it was hurtful? Or wrong because you have more in common with me than you do with them.”

You shook your head, “Why is it always about them?”

“It is always,” He sneered, “About them. I have watched you take what little you can get from them like a beggar. Talking to Felix in the hallways, doing his homework for him, smiling at him like a dolt.”

Your eyes widened in surprise.

“I’ve seen you.” His shoe bumped against yours as he leant forward, “You’re nothing to them. How long was it before they even learnt your name?”

“Stop it.” You whispered, feeling tears prickle in your eyes.

Michaels head tilted, “Why? It’s the truth.”

“It’s not.”

The sandy haired man clicked his tongue at you, head tilting, “You and I both know that’s not the truth, is it? What did Farleigh call you again?”

A lone tear fell down your cheek, leaving a wet track in its path. Your lip wobbled as you tried to keep your composure.

You didn’t know how he knew.

You didn’t know how he could have known what Farleigh had said to you that night, drinking in the pub together.

You hadn’t even meant to join them, but their table grew bigger and bigger until it swallowed your own and soon enough they were buying you shots. It was never a regular thing, you were never quite in the circle, but not quite out of it either. More-so lingering in the nothingness of neither here nor there.

Michael looked at you pityingly, not in a way where he held empathy for you because of it, but in a way where he pitied you for being the way you were. It was demeaning. Cold.

Detached.

“Parvenu.” His lips pronounced each syllable slowly, darkly, and it made you ache.

Another tear fell as you took a sharp intake of breath, sniffling roughly.

Shame built inside of you.

It was humiliating to relive that moment, let alone with Michael. And now that you knew he had witnessed or heard it, you wondered who else may have been there to hear Farleigh’s degrading comment and snort of a laugh followed. The way he would raise his brows at you the rest of the night as if to say ‘See? You don’t belong here, and we can all see it’, ‘We let you here because we can’.

“I don’t understand-“

Michael interrupted you, "-You let them walk all over you, and for what? Parties and accolades?” The corners of his lips turned downwards, “They don’t even respect you. Do they know that you’ve stayed behind on break alone? Do you think they’ll think of you in their mansions? Do you think Felix would ever-“

“-You talk about them as if they’re irredeemable, but they’ve been far nicer to me than you have.” Another tear fell, and your stomach tied itself in knots.

The anger seemed to simmer in his eyes, “They don’t deserve you.”

Your brows pulled down in confusion, “What?”

“You let them use you, chasing after their fleeting affections. It’s pathetic.”

Anger began to simmer inside of you, “Pathetic? You know what’s pathetic?” You leaned up on your toes, “The fact that you have so clearly been watching me, and everything that I do, and not once have you tried to be my friend. Do you know what’s pathetic?” Your voice began to rise, heat inside of you rising with it, “Your anger and hatred of them clearly stems from jealously and embarrassment because they would never talk to-“

Your eyes widened in shock, his lips crashing against yours as he yanked you forward, hand at the back of your head pulling you in tightly. You were so in shock, you didn’t know what to do, standing stiffly in his arms as the other circled your waist and pulled you against him.

It only took a second for your brain to come to with what was happening, your eyes sliding shut as you kissed him back roughly, all teeth and vitriol as you bit the soft flesh of his lips roughly. He hissed, pulling you closer, your feet stumbling against his as he backed you towards the wall of books beside the desk.

Your spine hit the shelf roughly as he shoved you back, both of you panting before you grabbed his shirt angrily, yanking him back towards you. You were so furious, so almost feral that you needed this more than you would have thought.

There was something about him, something about him that made you want to pull your hair out and also sit on his face to silence him.

His kisses weren’t skilled, but they were filled with passion as his teeth clashed against yours, a fight for dominance ensuing as you let a hand slide up into his hair and pull. A grunt came from deep within his chest as you yanked at the roots cruelly, hoping it would hurt him. Heat built in your gut rapidly, the need for him growing stronger with each passing second.

The hand on your waist slid down further, pulling up your skirt as his fingers pressed against your clothed core. You gasped into his mouth, hips thrusting forward from the pressure. With the other hand disappearing from the back of your head, it met the other between your legs, hooking into the gusset of your tights before you heard a loud rip, cold air immediately hitting your core.

You gasped loudly, Michael taking advantage as he slid his tongue into your mouth, flicking it upwards against the back of your teeth. He tasted faintly like chocolate, and it was a taste that you didn’t mind at all. His fingers immediately sought out your centre, sliding impatiently between your folds to gather the wetness from your entrance.

His movements were sloppy, yet focused, drawing it up to your clit as he rubbed fierce circles into it that bordered on painful. You nipped his bottom lip harshly again, yanking his head back and away from you to look at his face as two long digits circled your entrance.

The pupils of his eyes were enlarged, almost swallowing the blue of his iris whole. His cheeks were flushed a dusty pink, and lips a deep red after your bites. The glasses upon his face were slightly skewed and lightly fogged, the hair atop his head sticking up in different directions from your rough handling. You didn’t even get to observe him for longer before he roughly shoved the two fingers inside.

“Fuck.” You hissed, back arching towards him, shoulders roughly pushing into the bookshelf.

A mean smirk pulled on his lips as he crooked his fingers against the front of your walls, quickly thrusting his hand in and out with dizzying speed. Your breath caught in your throat, brows pulled down as you looked at him, low whine falling from your lips.

“So wet already.” Michael teased, thumb lightly brushing your pearl, a spark of intense pleasure shooting up you.

You pulled his head back towards you, moaning into his mouth as he continued to fuck you with his fingers, the sound of your arousal loud in the both of your ears. Michael pulled up one of your legs, hooking it around his hip, the cold metal of his carabiner pressing sharply into your inner thigh. Pleasure began to wind tightly in your gut, his long fingers reaching parts of you, your own couldn’t.

Panting against his mouth, your hand flew behind you to grip one of the wooden shelves, elbow bumping against the spines of the books.

His pace never once faltered, all those hours of quick equations all day boosting his hand strength and stamina. You were surprised that he even knew what he was doing, but the questions floated aimlessly in the back of your mind, not quite sticking.

Your nails dug into the wood of the shelf, hand falling from his hair to his shoulder as your head fell backwards against the shelf, your peak barreling towards you.

“S’close. Please.” You whined, rolling your hips into his hand.

A mean laugh broke your peace, his fingers pulling out of you sharply, preventing you from reaching your release. Your eyes flew open, brows furrowed in frustration as you looked at him, smug smirk on his lips as he brought his fingers up to his mouth, sucking on the arousal soaked digits.

You moaned weakly looking at him as he did it, hips rolling towards him in an attempt to get him to touch you again. Michael lips pouted at you as he pulled his fingers from his mouth with a wet pop.

“Touch me.” You breathed, pulling him towards you with your leg, the zipper of his cargo pants pressing against you sharply. You sighed, rubbing your centre against his pants, a wet patch no doubt beginning to stain the front of them.

“So desperate.” He cooed at you, your core clenching at his words as your eyes fluttered.

The hand that had been inside of you quickly made its way to the front of his pants, the other joining as he hastily undid his belt, not pulling it through the loops, followed by his button and zipper. Michael hastily reached into his pants and pulled out his hardened length, the tip pink and weeping, veins crawling up the sides.

You swallowed thickly as you looked down.

Oh shit.

Michael was very well endowed.

You didn’t know what shocked you more, the fact that he had such a sizeable cock, or how he thrust it up into you without warning. The stretch was bordering painful and you cried out loudly, Michaels hand slapping across your mouth to stifle the sound.

“Quiet.” He hissed, pushing in to the hilt, the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix. Your eyes screwed shut as you whined into his palm, your walls struggling to accommodate him as he slowly pulled out, each vein and ridge catching on your inner walls deliciously.

The slow heat inside of you began to build once more.

Michael thrust into you sharply, your head banging against the back of the shelves as he kept his hand against your mouth, the other holding your hip against him. He set a brutal pace, fucking into your slick walls without abandon as he chased his own pleasure, punching the air out of your chest.

“Fuck.” He hissed, forehead pressing against your own as he looked down to where you were joined, the leg you stood on stretched on your tippy toe to meet his height as he fucked you, “Your cunt is fucking tight.”

“Mmm.” You moaned, eyes slipping shut as the coil within your gut began to wind rapidly, each brutal thrust stretching you wide against him with painful pleasure.

“You gonna cum?” He panted, his eyes shutting behind his glasses that slid down his nose, “Can feel you squeezing my cock. Fuck.”

You nodded desperately beneath his hand, eyes opening to meet his steely gaze as he pulled his head back to watch you, the book shelf creaking as he fucked you against it.

You were so close, so fucking close.

“Go on.” He commanded, “Cum on my cock like a little slut.”

Your core clenched around him, blinding white pleasure coursing through you as you came, his hand falling from your mouth as you moaned loudly, the noise echoing in the library.

“Shit, fuck. I’m gonna-“ Michael’s thrusts stuttered as a long moan burst from his lips, the warmth of his cum filling you.

You whined, hands gripping his hair as you crashed your lips against his, kissing him lazily as you both panted, his cock throbbing inside of you as your walls squeezed every last drop from him.

Michael pushed as deep as he could go, the warmth of his cum beginning to leak around the base and down your thighs as you pulsed around him. Your mind was blank, fuzzy warmth spreading through your limbs in a soporific manner. He broke away from the kiss, breathing heavily as he looked down at you, glasses slightly foggy.

You searched his eyes and his face before a smile cracked on your lips. Michael mirrored it with a lopsided grin, huffing as he breathed out deeply.

Feeling a burst of confidence, you let a hand brush between your legs, swiping some of his cum that had dripped onto your thigh up to your mouth. You licked it off your finger slowly, opening your mouth to let him see the mess on your tongue before swallowing.

Michael’s adams apple bobbed, his cock twitching inside of you, “Fucking hell.”

You huffed another laugh, leaning forward to kiss him again, sliding your tongue into his mouth so he could taste himself as well as you on his tongue. He hummed loudly, dropping your leg to cradle your head in his hands.

When you broke away once more, you couldn’t help but notice the glaringly obvious.

Michael Gavey just fucked you in the library.

His tongue wet his lips as he looked at you, “Was that good?” A beat, “For you?”

“Yeah.” You breathed, “You?”

“Yeah.”

Silence began to stretch between the two of you before you shifted your hips, Gavey took the hint and slowly slid from your walls, causing you to whimper from the overstimulation. He tucked himself into his pants as you righted yourself, looking down at the gaping hole in the gusset of your tights.

“Well this will be an interesting walk home.” You mused, a hum of a laugh tickling the back of your throat.

Michael snorted, “Made quite the mess.”

“You did.”

Michael smirked, “It wasn’t all me now. I can’t take all the blame.”

You let your skirt drop, smoothing it down as you stepped away from the bookcase, looking back up at him.

“I suppose not. There was effort on both ends here.”

“There was.”

You nibbled at your lip, the unspoken words just at the tip of your tongue, “Michael-“

“-27. We’re in the same block.” His eyes searched yours.

Room 27? Why-

“Did you want to get a drink?” Michael blurted, shifting on his feet awkwardly as though you hadn't just fought and angrily fucked against a bookshelf.

You looked at him closely. There was no sign of insincerity in his eyes.

He was offering an olive branch.

You let a smile wash over your face, enjoying how his own came to match it.

“Sure."

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to any tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! <3

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videovamptramp · 9 months

Text

i’m right over here, why can’t you see me? (2)

// when ellie’s reaction to you and abby hooking up isn’t quite what you expected, she leads you right into abby’s open arms. //

[warnings: jealousy, pining, angst, slight arguing, angry!ellie, illusions to one-sided feelings, simp!abby, fuckgirl!ellie, sexual implications]

xxxxxxxxx

this is pt.2 (pt.1 can be found here)

abby was always taught to be the bigger person. her father consistently reminded her that no matter how people treat her, she should always be the bigger person. that’s most of the reason why she’s so reserved and non-confrontational. when she first started university, she knew she didn’t quite fit in. unlike a vast majority of students around here, she wasn’t here for the “college” experience. she was just here to play soccer and get her degree in engineering. she also noticed you from the first day of freshman year, but she was way too shy to say hi to you. abby’s never really been good at flirting or starting conversation with new people. she often feels too awkward, or too intimidated to say anything.

manny took a liking to her right away; the school got his rooming situation mixed up, and that’s how he ended up being abby’s roommate. it was strange at first for her; she was wary about having a guy as a roommate. but she quickly learned manny was a cool guy. he was funny, and hung up pictures of him and his dad right away. abby could relate, as she was very close to her dad as well.

manny slowly seemed to get abby out of her shell, and would invite her to various functions and parties. but he quickly learned if it didn’t have anything to do with soccer, abby wasn’t really interested. even the girls who threw themselves at the dark haired blonde, would get shot down without abby even realizing she was rejecting them. you were ironically the first person abby found herself interested in. hell, after the party yesterday, abby was almost certain she was enthralled by you.

after walking you back to your dorm, you gave abby your number and hugged her tightly. abby walked all the way back to her shared room with a dorky grin on her face. she could still smell your girly perfume, and all she could think about was your pretty smile. a part of her wondered if you’d cave and call ellie, but when you texted her after she had gotten out of the shower, she knew you didn’t.

y/n (1:34 a.m): i can’t wait to see how she reacts tomorrow, thanks for helping me haha

y/n (1:35 a.m): and thank you for keeping me company tonight, i really liked getting to know you abby 🖤

the smile that tugged at her lips after reading your message was nearly unrecognizable. as she walked out of the bathroom with her eyes and thumbs on her phone screen, manny raises a brow in slight suspicion at the peculiar sight.

abby (1:42 a.m): i really liked getting to know you too, i hope we can get to know each other better :) i was serious about teaching you how to ride a horse lol

“that’s a face i’ve never seen before.” manny states observingly, causing abby to look away from her phone, over at her roommate who was flashing her an intrigued smile. a blush coats her freckled covered cheeks as she thinks about you and your smile. “you remember that girl from my women’s history class? y/n?” abby reminds her best friend, who throws his head back and lets out a bark of a laugh. “abby you jugadora (player)! i knew you’d get laid eventually.” he taunts causing the jock to roll her eyes. “i didn’t ‘get laid’, gross ass. i finally said more than five words to her. i got her number too.” abby smirks, and mischief glints in manny’s eyes. “so nora dragging you to that party was a good thing then?” he half taunts and abby’s phone chimes, signaling that you’ve texted her again; her face gets hot, and manny chuckles.

y/n (1:44 a.m): i’ll be waiting for you to set something up when we’re not tipsy then ;)

abby (1:46a.m): i don’t think you’ll be waiting for very long <3 goodnigjt y/n, sleep tight

y/n (1:47 a.m): goodnight abby 🖤

when you wake up the next morning, your head is throbbing, and thoughts of last night begin to flood your mind. suddenly you remember all about abby’s plan to make ellie jealous. you reach over for your phone and see you have a string of missed calls, and five texts from ellie. your heart thumps as you open the text thread with the brunette.

ellie (2:20 a.m): you home??

ellie (6:34 a.m): why didn’t you call me last night?

ellie (6:35 a.m): did you make it back to your room safely??

ellie (9:35 a.m): you going to class today?

ellie (11:47 a.m) did you really hookup with anderson last night? it’s all that nora chick and her friend are talking about rn.

your cheeks heat up as you read the last message; word certainly seems to move fast around here. before you can even think about a response to ellie’s various messages, your gaze wanders to the time. your eyes widen as you gasp, realizing you slept nearly half the day away; it was already 2:30 p.m and nobody except for abby knew you were alive. you scurry off your bed, and just as your about to grab your clothes and stuff to shower, dina comes barging into your shared dorm. “dude, is it true!? did you hookup with the captain of the soccer team last night!?” dina sounds excited, and your cheeks turn a dark shade of pink, causing her to gasp.

“you did! holy shit, y/n… i didn’t think you had it in you.” she comments, sounding a bit impressed. “what? you didn’t think i had enough rizz to pull abby anderson?” you question half jokingly, causing the raven haired girl to laugh loudly. “oh no, i’m well aware you can pull whoever you want, i just didn’t think you’d move on from ellie so fast! i didn’t even come home last night, i spent the night listening to ellie rant about you and abby hunky anderson.” dina teases you mercilessly, doing nothing to ease the way your face is burning.

the raven haired girls eyes then widen, shining with pure amusement. “did you two do it in here? on your bed!?” she cackles before whistling, “who are you?” dina asks half jokingly as she begins to walk over to her side of the room, reaching for her biology textbook. “you’re leaving again?” you ask out loud, and dina nods, turning her head and flashing you a roguish smile. “yup, i’m studying with jesse till five.” she admits, and you raise your brows, offering her a disbelieving expression. “studying or fucking?” you ask her, poking fun at the slightly taller girl. she rolls her eyes, but looks away from you in order to keep you from seeing the way her face changes in color. “unlike you, i am considerate of jesse’s roommate. we wait until he’s at work.” dina’s response causes you to laugh, shaking your head in amusement.

“whatever. i’m going to shower, and change into pajamas. maybe i’ll make myself a cup soup and watch reruns of buffy all evening.” you tell her, and dina snorts. “maybe you could call anderson to join you. i’m sure she’ll be up for round two.” dina’s voice is sardonic but dripping with lightheartedness. “who says we didn’t already have round two?” you inquire challengingly, causing dina to gasp as she reaches for a pillow on her bed, tossing it right at you. you laugh loudly, as you make your way towards the door with your pajamas and toothbrush in hands. right as you open the door to rush out, you come face to face with ellie who had been debating with herself on whether to knock or not.

her eyebrows meet her hairline as she sees you, your mascara from last night a mess, and your hairs a mess. there’s a wave of hot, red anger that surges throughout the brunette as she realizes you’ve been so busy with abby anderson, you haven’t been able to answer any of her messages, or even been able to wash your face. her eyes flicker over to your bed that’s a mess, and suddenly unwanted images of abby fucking you on your bed flood her mind.

“it’s nice to see you’re alive.” ellie grumbles a bit dramatically as she pushes her way into the room, causing dina to turn around and look at you. “you knew i was okay. i was with abby.” you respond, and the mere mention of the other girl seems to set ellie off. “no i didn’t know that y/n! i don’t know a fucking thing about abby! she could’ve been a weirdo who only wanted to take advantage of you—” you cut ellie off before she can say something stupid, “but she wasn’t! abby and i are both two consenting adults who hooked up, just like everyone else around here!” you snap a bit harshly, and the words feel like a slap to the face for ellie. “so the rumors are true? you and anderson hooked up last night?” ellie’s voice sounds hurt, and you can’t even recognize the expression that’s etched onto her features.

“uh, jesse’s waiting for me, so i’ll let you guys talk.” dina declares a bit awkwardly, she can feel the tension in the room, but she decides to stay out of it and walk away. before she walks out, the raven haired girl flashes you a look of reassurance. when she shuts the door behind her, you and ellie are left alone. you shake your head, “why do you sound so angry about it? you hookup with girls all the time!” you counterpoint, and ellie shakes her head. “but i never ditch you to do it!” she hisses, while you respond with an eye roll. “yes you do! ellie, you ditched me last night for angela! you do it at every party with different girls, but the one time i do it, it’s a problem?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest.

“i was worried about you! i don’t care about your meaningless, shitty hookup with anderson.” ellie spits rudely, and you let out an angry laugh of disbelief. “shitty? why do you think i was asleep all day? it was amazing.” you nearly grimace as you realize you sound like you’re trying too hard to convince ellie. “besides, abby already asked me on a date. she wants to go horseback riding.” you lie right through your teeth, and ellie lets out a chuckle. “yeah? that sounds like complete bullshit.” she calls you on your bluff, and you raise a brow, “what sounds like bullshit? that someone could actually want something more than a hookup with me?” you ask challengingly, causing ellie’s annoyed expression to falter. “no, y/n, that’s not what i meant…” she trails off, her voice lowering slightly.

“then what did you mean? because to me it sounds like you think all abby or anyone could ever want me for is a hookup.” you reply dryly, but ellie can detect the slight hurt in your tone. she shakes her head again, “no that isn’t— it’s not you! it’s abby! girls like her aren’t actually interested in dating anyone. i mean, half the cheerleading team said she sleeps with girls and never talks to them again!” ellie points out, and you furrow your eyebrows. “since when do you listen to rumors?” you demand, making her run her fingers through her hair in frustration. “you can’t seriously be thinking about going out with her, are you?”

her question causes you to frown, “yes i am. and unless you can give me an actual reason on why i shouldn’t, then we have nothing left to fight about.” your voice is strangely stern, and something in ellie’s stomach drops because of it. “i’m going to go shower… just like was before you barged in here.” you know you sound meaner than usual, but you can’t help it. ellie was supposed to be showing you how sexy she was when she was jealous, not what a jerk she was. you didn’t even mean to lie about your date with abby; it had just slipped out. ellie had a way of pushing your buttons, and in a way you knew the more you talked about abby, the more you were pushing hers. you walk out of your room, shutting the door behind you and leaving ellie alone. she can’t help but glance over at the messy, undid bed that was taunting her. ellie hates thinking about you and abby together, but she still can’t figure out why. dina was right, the brunette might just be the most oblivious person on the planet.

you’re not as upset after getting clean. a warm shower and a fresh set of pajamas always makes you feel better. when you get back to your room, ellie is no longer there, but there's a twinge of guilt that runs through your veins. you push it as far away from your thoughts as you can. you know you shouldn't feel bad; after all, ellie has been raving about how "pretty" and "hot" angela is for the last four weeks! you shouldn't feel the slightest bit guilty for making her jealous with abby.

as your mind thinks about the honey blonde girl, a small, inevitable smile makes it's way onto your lips. though the smile falls fast when you realize you're going to have to ask abby to help you again. this time it was your own doing; you angrily lied to ellie and told her you had a date with abby. in a way it made you feel a bit pathetic, faking a date. the cruel voice in your head was telling you that ellie was right; you couldn't get a date with someone like abby... not an actual date at least. but ellie didn't really know that. as far as she knew, you were going to be riding off into the sunset with abby after your date.

ellie doesn’t text you throughout the rest of the evening or night. a part of you feels a bit bad for lying to her, but the other part of you knows you only did it because she was acting stupid. the next morning you wake up and get ready for your classes; feeling way better than you did yesterday. abby sees you walking to your second class, which happens to be women’s history with her. she can’t stop herself from approaching you, regardless of the butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

“y/n.” she greets you with that soft accent, that causes an unfamiliar warmth to course throughout your body. “abigail.” you respond back, unable to contain the smile on your face. “how did things go with williams yesterday?” she asks curiously, and your smile falls at the mention of your best friend. “not good? was my plan a bust?” she questions cautiously, rubbing the back of her neck nervously. you sigh, “i don’t know. i mean, she was really mad yesterday when she came to my room. she heard people saying we hooked up, and she said all you wanted was to hookup and never talk to me again…” you trail off, and abby opens her mouth to disagree, but you go on before she can get a word out.

“i kinda got really mad when she said that and i might’ve lied to her about us having a date.” you blush in pure embarrassment, and abby lets out a laugh. “oh jeez, i don’t even wanna picture how angry she got when you told her that.” abby’s voice is light, yet there’s a slight seriousness in her tone; she remembers the way ellie was glaring at her the other night. you shake your head, a small frown etching itself onto your face. abby can’t figure out how you look so pretty all the time; even when you’re upset. “yeah she was pretty mad… but who cares? she’s just acting like a jerk! i mean, to be jealous is one thing but she doesn’t have to be an asshole about it. she’s supposed to be my best friend. realistically she’s supposed to be happy for me.” you mutter, causing the blonde to raise her brows in amusement.

“she’s your best friend who’s in love with you. the more time you spend with me, the angrier she’s gonna get.” abby points out with a slight mumble, and you sigh, “if ellie is as in love with me as you and dina say she is, then she would’ve said something yesterday. but she didn’t. i honestly think ellie just isn’t into me like that.” you sound genuinely sad as you come to terms with this, and the dismal expression on your face causes something to tug at abby’s heartstrings. she doesn’t like seeing you sad.

“she’s just stubborn. she needs more of a push. i mean you said she got upset when you told her we have a date.” abby tries, as you both stand outside of the classroom, continuing the conversation. “yeah, but she’s ellie, she literally has anger issues. maybe she was just mad that i promised to call, and i didn’t.” you explain, and abby shrugs. “then lets go on a date. let’s see how ellie reacts to it.” the taller girl throws the idea out there, causing you to freeze. you look at her, “you wanna take me on a “date”, just so i can see how ellie reacts?” your voice has suspicion laced throughout it, as abby nods. “why do you wanna help me so badly?” you interrogate slightly, obviously not trusting the blonde.

she laughs at the way your eyes are narrowed, and she can’t help but find every expression of yours absolutely adorable. “because i like you. you’re the coolest person i’ve met around here aside from nora and manny. i’ll help you get the girl if that’s what you want. i’m a great wingman.” she winks at you, and you roll your eyes playfully, that genuine smile that causes abby’s heart to palpitate returns. “you’re also a very sweet person.” you add onto her boast; this causes the back of her neck to heat up, as she looks down at her boots and smiles. you wrap your arms around her and hug her tightly, just like you did the other night.

and just like the first time you hugged her, abby’s mind begins to race as the smell of your perfume takes over her senses. she hugs you back, and when you pull away you have this mischievous grin on your face. “i guess we’ve officially got a date then, anderson.” you half joke, as you lead abby into the classroom. abby’s sure her face is as red as a tomato, and she’s much too busy thinking about how soft you are and how good you smell to think of a good response. instead, all abby can do is follow you like a puppy to your seat. she sits down next to you, and throughout the entire class, she doesn’t pay attention once.

after the class ends she realizes she hasn’t taken a single note, and has no idea what the assignment topic for tonight is. every thought she seemed to have, circled back to you. the worst of it was, you were probably thinking about ellie while she was thinking about you nonstop.

after class, she groans to herself as she realizes she has no idea what the assignment topic for tonight is. she was too busy stealing glances at you, and thinking about your “date”.

“god, what the hell did i get myself into?”

abby thinks to herself as she walks into her shared dorm. she throws herself onto her bed, her thoughts never leaving you.

meanwhile ellie slams the door behind her as she storms into her room. she can’t help but feel more upset than ever. she saw you and abby walking to class today, and it caused an ugly green wave of jealousy to wash over her. for a moment she actually wanted to go up to abby and punch her right in front of you, though ellie knew you’d never forgive her for that. but ellie also couldn’t just sit around and watch you fall for abby fucking anderson.

suddenly, she pauses in the middle of pacing as an idea hits her; like a lightbulb lighting up over her head. ellie knows what she has to do; she’s going to ruin your date with abby, and she has a million different ideas on how to do it.

xxxxxxx

team abby or team ellie? 👀

taglist: @macaroni676 @swxxtbnny @bellaramseyswife @asabovesobelow666 @thatonementallyillsimp @fofinhamarie @p4ison1vy @harrysslutsstuff @jalousiexx @mostlyhornyandsad @clouded-whispers @elliewilliams4ever @forelliesposts @dergy @uraesthete @4rt3m1ss @3bolivia @calderysuh @milfsandtittyenthusiast @fofinhamarie @mikimambo @elliewilliamsgf69 @ariiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii01 @ellienbilliearemywives @emst4rr @nabiba @bycoincidencesoflife @jennasoneanonly @lizzygoldenr @bready101 @dinasbigtoe @fairlyang @wingedoafbasketballjudge-blog @halfmooneclipse @defencelessarcher @selfcentered-bitch @vswerve @iwantyoutocryforme @hsangel64 @abbysleftbicepp @gabsssssblog @2dmenlackimperfection @cinematicdilfs @masclover111 @mai5mai @teenagedramaqueenlisa

i’m sorry to everyone it didn’t let me tag, some of your blogs weren’t popping up 😭 merry christmas loves, stay safe - vamp <3

#ellie x y/n #fuck!girl ellie williams #abby anderson x fem reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x female reader #the last of us #abby the last of us #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x you #ellie williams x reader jealous #jealous ellie williams x reader #abby anderson #ellie williams #abby anderson x fem reader angst #fanfic #fake dating

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nnight-dances · 1 year

Text

REPETITION / RARE LOVE

pairings: kim mingyu x fem!reader (ft. yoon jeonghan)

genre: fluff, angst, suggestive & sexual content

tropes: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers (except mingyu's the only idiot), pining, flirting

warnings: explicit language, banter, alcohol consumption, borderline jeonghan slander but it's okay because i would die for the man, has been proofread by me once but only barely. kazuha (le sserafim) is your roommate, huh yunjin is present.

WHAT TO EXPECT

it's simple enough: you and mingyu are perfect for each other. you've told him as much but after years of him avoiding the topic, you leave him alone. but when your long-time infatuation with jeonghan gets rejected, you have nothing to distract you from your desire to be with mingyu. all it takes is you making out with the wrong person and a can of beer for mingyu to come to his senses. (about 11k)

OR: maybe you don't hate repetition as much as you claim to.

SEQUEL OUT NOW!

“why are men on tinder actually vile?” you question out loud, not quite expecting an answer as your eyes continue to read the offensive opener you’d received from a recent match. mingyu, who’s crouched on the desk across from you, frowns.

“y/n, we’re meant to be studying,” he points out, “but also i thought you were over tinder?”

you look at him blankly, “i am! i just gotta finish what i started you know…”

mingyu looks deeply disappointed in you and you slide your phone across to him, “look at this message i just got! it’s disgusting! i don’t need to know if someone’s wet at the thought of—”

“god, y/n, do you have to scream?” he asks as he takes hold of your phone, busying his fingers probably with blocking the guy. you momentarily look back at your screen where the black document meant to be the outline for your final art history paper taunts you.

you sigh, looking down at your phone when mingyu returns it. “i paused your account and deleted the app.” you sigh yet again, “man! if you were gonna uninstall it without my permission you should’ve just deleted my account.”

“you’d just make another one anyway,” he shrugs, “plus, this way when you go back you’ll remember why you left in the first place.”

you grumble something under your breath but resume your attempts at writing. mingyu smiles a little as he goes back to his own work. a beat passes before, he puts his pen down again and when he sees you’re staring at your screen distantly, he asks, “did you talk to jeonghan yet?”

you gasp at the mention of your years-old crush, glancing around you as if you weren’t in a private study room (because apparently the only way either of you could get anything done was while talking to each other). “what?” mingyu continues, “one of us had to address the elephant in the room.”

“wow, you’re just the worst friend ever, aren’t you? it’s like you can’t read rooms at all. i clearly did not want to talk about jeonghan.”

“well, now you are. so you might as well be honest with me. did you think about confessing to him?”

you deflate, stomach suddenly uneasy, “no. i don’t think i will. i don’t need him to know.”

“you kinda do. y/n, look at me,” mingyu knocks on the wood to demand your attention, “it’s the only way you’ll ever have an answer.”

“i don't want an answer.”

“…”

"because i'm going to move on from him!"

"..."

“okay, well, i’m starting to! just watch me, okay? i have the agency to not be completely consumed by my very shallow attraction to a very attractive and impressive man.”

“right. you just used attractive twice in a sentence— and no, i don’t care if it wasn’t the same form of the word, you absolutely hate redundant things. and yet, you refuse to recognize the way out of this pattern of yours.”

“you are so tiring, mingyu, you know that? exhausting, even. i don’t want to do this anymore.” you shake your head at him, suddenly invigorated to finish this damn preliminary proposal of yours.

—

yunjin cackles as she plops down across from you in the dining hall, finding you scrolling ever so dedicatedly on pinterest. “what’s this?”

you look up at her with a pout, “i need a dress for hoshi’s little party. it’s in two weeks and i have zero options.”

“fuck, i knew i was forgetting something,” she grimaces in her typical huh yunjin way and shifts closer, “i need to find something for that too. can’t just wear a corset and call it day since he’s labelling it a formal and whatnot.”

“he really is the worst,” you agree, pausing to muse over a pretty white dress with red roses all over it. “hmm, what about this one?”

yunjin tilts her head and nods as she looks between you and the dress, probably imagining you in it. then, you sigh, “it’s just i don’t think red is my color like that.”

you’re about to elaborate when you hear a gasp from behind you, “that is simply not true!” you don’t have time to react when a figure slides in next to you. goddamnit, it’s jeonghan, you realize, trying hard to keep it together when his shoulder comes to sit next to yours. “you absolutely fucking rock the color red.”

“i do?” is all you can muster as yunjin chokes out a badly covered laugh. you glare at her, “what’s funny, jen?”

“hah, nothing, i agree with jeonghan, you’d look lovely in red.”

you frown, unconvinced as you scroll some more, feeling dizzy from jeonghan’s presence.

“preparing for hoshi’s party i presume?” jeonghan asks and you nod. “i’m so stressed, i have nothing and it’s approaching so fast.”

“you have time though,” he reassures but you’re quick to protest, “i’m not going to have any time next week because we’re organizing that night flea market. i’ll be running around campus so i need to take a trip this week.” the beauty of going to a college with an isolated campus: peace and you gotta plan every time you leave campus because there’s a singular bus that takes you to the city. it’d be a whole day trip for you if not for mingyu, who thankfully has a car that he can drive.

“ahh, tell me when you’re going into the city, y/n,” yunjin pats you, “i gotta go too.”

you nod and then remember, “right of course, i just remembered kazuha saying she wanted to come too.”

“nice,” yunjin approves, “we need all the opinions we can get. did you get mingyu to agree to drive you yet?”

“i texted him earlier but he hasn’t replied, which is slightly concerning because he may not know how to spell but he does write back very fast.”

jeonghan chuckles, “mind if i join you guys too?”

you stop in your tracks, turning to face him, “you wanna come shopping with us?”

he nods, that sweet smile of his plastered across his face, “yeah, i could use a new formal outfit. i’m tired of wearing the same black suit to everything.” he nudges your side, “plus, you guys could help me out. i can never decide on anything all alone.”

—

“maybe i should just not go,” you groan with your head in your hands. mingyu rolls his eyes, slapping your back, “why would not go? if your problem’s with jeonghan, he should be the one to stay back. not you.”

you sit back up, staring at the eggs in your plate. beside you, mingyu chugs his glass of orange juice, and you lean against him. “god, i hate him so much. do you wanna go see if the playground’s free?”

“right now?” mingyu looks at the time. it’s 11 am on saturday, still an hour from the time everyone agreed to meet in front of mingyu’s car, which is conveniently parked right across from the playground. as if following your line of thought, he grins, “alright. but you finish your food first.”

you sigh, “okay, mom, i will.”

five minutes later find you racing mingyu for the best swing in the playground— months of visiting the place had taught you the first swing was the only one that didn’t creak too loud and experienced the least amount of bumps during the ride. mingyu’s fast but you’re stubborn so you reach out for his arm midway, sticking your nails into the skin, knowing how dramatic he is about these things.

he gasps, “DO NOT CLAW ME.” strong as he might be, he slows down to rip your grip off. you seize the opportunity, getting a headstart and laugh when you reach the swing before him, sitting down firmly before mingyu can pull you away.

“that’s cheating, y/n, you know it!”

“hey, you’re the one that has an advantage. you go to the gym like eight times a week. i go like thrice a month.”

“sounds like someone’s lazy and whiny to me.”

you smile, “someone lazy wouldn’t win that race. and you’re the one that’s whining,” you point to his stance, his arms at his hips like an affronted toddler. he loosens his body with a pout as he walks over to the second swing. “whatever.”

time passes a little too fast for you two when you’re fighting like this because kazuha’s running over to you, breathless. “y/n! what are you guys doing?”

“zuha, hi! did you—”

“yep, i got your lip gloss.”

you chuckle, throwing your arms around her, “why are you the best roommate ever?”

mingyu scoffs, “what about you being the worst roommate ever?”

kazuha laughs, too nice to agree with him, “hey, that’s not true.” you hit him in the side, “you’re just jealous that you’re in a single. i guess money really does make people lonely.”

“i’d go for a double even if i was that rich,” jeonghan’s voice pops up from beside you. he sure has a knack for appearing out of thin air. “i couldn’t handle being alone.”

“not everyone can love themselves as much as i do,” mingyu shrugs, smugly as crosses his arms. “i’m self-sufficient like that.”

“if you guys are done, we should start moving,” comes yunjin’s voice from near mingyu’s car, “it’s already fifteen past 12.”

“i call shotgun!” yunjin shouts and you’re quick to fight back, “no way, i already called it.”

“if i didn’t hear it, then it doesn’t count,” she teases, leaning against the passenger side. you glare at mingyu, “i called it in front of mingyu! the driver is the one that counts.”

mingyu laughs at the petty fight, “y/n did call it earlier this morning.”

“that’s not fair! mingyu’s obviously going to take y/n’s side, you guys spend every breathing minute together. the rest of us don’t stand a chance.”

you smirk, “don’t be a sore loser, huh yunjin, you can call it when we’re coming back. if you remember to.”

“i hate you,” she mutters as everyone settles into the car.

“i’m open to music requests, dear friends,” you announce once you’ve started off. “but i reserve the right to reject any tasteless songs.”

“isn’t this the textbook example of a tyranny?” jeonghan breathes and you shoot him a look over your shoulder, “hey, the power comes with the seat. it’s natural selection.”

mingyu groans through laughter, “you know you don’t make any sense. just play some music.”

you roll your eyes, “he says as he laughs his fat ass off.”

“she’s just salty my ass is fatter than hers,” he mutters under his breath. the three in the backseat break into laughs at that, all at your expense as you gape at them. such betrayal.

“i don’t know why i call you friends. you’re monsters.”

kazuha pipes in, “y/n, are you calling your sweet roommate a monster right now?”

jeonghan is quick to join in, “honestly, i’d say kazuha is the nicest friend among us here.”

“fine, everyone but zuha’s out to get me right now.” the screaming continues for a little bit longer until yunjin and kazuha tire themselves out and pass out. you chuckle when you look at them, yunjin’s head bobs in the middle of the three until it hits kazuha’s shoulder, whose head then rests on top.

swiftly, you pull out your phone camera and capture the moment, sure to tease them later. as you’re clicking the photos, jeonghan’s face sticks into the corner with a sneaky grin and you shift the angle to include him. enjoying the attention, he shoots the camera a peace sign, followed by a little heart, and then a cheek heart and now he’s a bunny and then—

you pull yourself away abruptly with a shaky laugh, “god, jeonghan, this isn’t a photoshoot.”

he laughs back, “ha ha, sorry, i can’t help myself. it’s so fun to tease you like this.”

you feel the blood rush to your face at that, so you turn to face the road completely, a weak, “fuck off” on your tongue. mingyu silently observes the interaction, not without a little side-eye that you don’t know what to think of. “you should get some rest, y/n, you didn’t sleep last night.”

you frown, surprised mingyu knows that and you don’t get to ask him why he knows that because jeonghan interrupts, “you guys sure are close. i was talking to hoshi the other day, he misses y’all a lot.”

“he does? he can just come talk to us whenever though,” mingyu replies, doubt tracing his tone. “i don’t think we’re exclusive like that.”

“right?” you agree, “we used to be so close to hoshi, too, and then he moved to the other side of campus this semester and now i have like one class with him.”

“i don’t know,” jeonghan says, “you should talk to him about it, but there’s always been something stronger about the two of you together.”

you shrug, “we always end up together. it’s not that deep i think. it’s just how it is.”

the topic ends there as jeonghan agrees and dozes off himself too. you, however, feel eerily awake. awake? no, more like unsettled. something in your nerves is off and you feel on edge. you’re a little spaced out after that, as you finally reach the city circle with all the shops crowded next to each other with a little mall in the center.

as everyone gets off and gathers their things, mingyu pulls you aside with a concerned look, “are you okay, y/n?” his grip on your elbow grounds you a little. you inhale, knowing better than to pretend in front of him, “yeah, just a little uneasy. i don’t know why. probably just tired.”

mingyu looks like he knows something more about your condition, “are you sure? we can take a break at one of the restaurants before shopping if you want?”

“nah, i’m okay, don’t worry. i’m a strong girl,” you smile, reasurring him with a pat to his chest, “i feel better now. thanks, mingyu.”

he frowns, hand loosening against your skin, “you never thank me, weirdo. don’t be so formal.”

“man, there’s no winning with you, is there?”

he chuckles as he pulls you after the others, “no, i’m insatiable.”

—

an hour into shopping, you realize why you hate doing this. everything is so overwhelming when you’re in the city, so many people, so many clothes. at least you have friends with you as you scan racks after racks, ending up with three potential dresses on your arm. you mutter a prayer in your head that you can find something nice here so you don’t have to walk more. this is already your third store.

the first one is a classic: a little black dress. it’s satin so it sits smooth against your skin and feels soft when you twirl around. it’s a little short for your liking, perhaps too tight against your ass. you turn to the side to get a better look. you take a photo and send it to mingyu, who you’d been going back and forth with. he’d last sent you a photo ten minutes ago: him in a stupid minion onesie. you’d cursed him out real well in response telling him to stop fucking around. he writes back fast.

big gyu: u look good

big gyu: kinda basic tho

you: yea i thought so too

you agree with that, putting the dress aside in case you don’t find anything else at all.

candidate number two is more over the top: a long red dress with little black patterns on it, with a leg slit on one side. getting into it was a whole struggle but you get it on finally. it fits well thanks to the slit which also shows off some skin. you’re hot in it: like literally. the long sleeves don’t help at all. but you look good too, the flare doing wonders for your figure. you pause, sending a photo hoping mingyu would be of help.

however, when mingyu takes longer than a minute to reply, you groan, already sweating a little. concluding that he’s probably changing or something, you peek out your curtain, hoping yunjin was still in the stall next to yours. you call out her name, straining your neck to see if there was anyone else you could ask for help.

you spot jeonghan walking around the shelves near the fitting rooms and before you can hesitate to call him over, he notices your head poking out. he raises an eyebrow, sending your heartbeat into a spiral. “y/n? do you need help?”

you clear your throat, “um, yeah, i need a second opinion on this dress.” jeonghan approaches your corner and you panic when he reaches for the curtain to draw it back. his eyes question you, “can i look?” you let go of it to let him in, a tiny little rational part of you wondering he needed to come inside the room to see.

“ohhh,” he exclaims as he takes you in, “you look amazing. told ya red was your color.”

you turn away from him a little, “this dress is hot.”

“it sure is,” he agrees and you blush harder, “no i meant, like literally. i’m so hot right now.”

jeonghan presses his lips together, giving away the fact that he understands but being the little bitch he is, he chooses the option that makes you wanna combust. he presses two fingers to your cheek and mumbles, “yeah, you are.”

you push his arm off, “yoon jeonghan! you’re such a damn flirt! get out of here.” you force him out of your space and he’s uncontrollably laughing as he lets you. “i’ve another dress to try so wait outside for me.”

“sure you don’t need a hand changing—”

“no, thank you very much!” you scream, greeted with more pleased chuckling. your phone buzzes, catching your attention. you lean down to look at it.

big gyu: niceee thats hot

big gyu: u should get this dress

big gyu: pls

you: …girl why are u begging me

big gyu: because.

big gyu: you’re getting this dress right

you: no i’d die of overheating in it

big gyu: and it’d be worht it

you: i dont like how enthusiastic u are about this...

you: wtv this one's rejected.

you: i still have another dress to try

you put your phone down to try the final dress. this one was a purple slip dress with white flower detailing. it was skin tight against your boobs and a little transparent, giving away your black bra underneath. and to contrast, it sat a little loose on your hips which was honestly not the worst look, keeping from the dress becoming too scandalous. you enjoyed this dress the most so far. that was enough, given the track record.

“you done, y/n?” you’re startled when the voice outside is mingyu’s instead of jeonghan. you pull back the curtains in confusion, “gyu? what’re you doing here?” mingyu stops short, “fuck, i like this one.” you flush a little when you notice his eyes settle on your chest for a beat too long. “that’s stunning, for real.”

you laugh. “look at you using big words. but yeah, i think this is the one.” you look over at him, “did jeonghan leave?”

“um, yeah, he said he had to use the washroom when i ran into him on the way,” he mumbles. you nod, a little relieved because you think you’d die if he saw you right now. “anyway, i’m offended you were showing him your dresses and then all i got was a photo.”

“hey, you were taking so long to reply that i had seek someone else out. he just happened to be her.”

mingyu ignores that and tells you to hurry up, “i need your help choosing something for myself.”

“ugh, alright, give me five.”

in the end, you decided you’d get both the classic black dress and the slip dress, you needed more dresses in general. wouldn’t hurt to have more. when you’re done checking out, you find mingyu in conversation with kazuha who’s smiling with a shopping bag in her hands.

“zuha, you get anything?” you ask. she nods eagerly, “yeah! i got this pink dress that jeonghan helped me find just now. it’s really pretty, i’ll show you later in the room.”

you falter a little at that, glancing at mingyu who’d told you he went to the washroom. ignoring the growing unsettling gut feeling, you inform her you’d found something too. “nice, we should have a try-on in the room later.”

“you guys!!” yunjin joins the group, “this is insane. i hit the jackpot and found the sexiest green dress ever.” you laugh, linking arms with her, “you should come over later and try it on with us.”

“ah, the beauty of womanhood,” mingyu grumbles beside you, and you shove him. “you’re not invited, pervert.”

his jaw falls open, “excuse me? what did you just call me?”

you press an index finger into his bicep, “don’t think i didn’t notice you checking my boobs out earlier.” mingyu’s cheek redden at the light-hearted accusation, worsening when jeonghan appears right at the climax of the argument.

“okay, okay, first of all, i wasn’t checking anything out!” he complains, “and-and well, they—”

jeonghan cuts him off, patting his back with an amused smirk, “it’s alright, buddy, it happens to the best of us.” everyone laughs at that, much to mingyu’s chagrin who then becomes pouty for the rest of the walk to the next shop.

“c’mon,” you pull him into the store, “my turn to stare at your tits.”

“god, would you drop it?” he groans as he follows you in. “it won’t happen again.”

you giggle, “it’s okay with me, gyu, because that just means the girls look good.”

he groans again, “i really don’t need to be a part of this.” he wanders off into the store, embarrassed. you let him go, looking at clothes for him separately. turns out shopping for mingyu is harder than the concept of it sounds. it doesn’t help that he’s an expert at criticizing the small detail in every item you choose for him. half an hour later, you’re tired of him.

as if on cue, kazuha calls you to tell you to come over to an asian restaurant nearby to grab lunch. you thank the lords as you pull mingyu away, “there’s nothing here for me anyway,” he grumbles as you meet up with the rest.

entering the restaurant, you spot kazuha and jeonghan at a table nearby. yunjin’s still on her way it turns out as you sit across from them, heart in throat for the worst reason possible: you’re jealous. you may be down bad for jeonghan but that doesn’t mean you’ve lost your ability to take a hint. trying to keep the thought from completely forming in your head, you make conversation with everyone, wanting to be better than this.

you want to avoid thinking about it so you’re quick to shut jeonghan off. he’s his usual self, joking around with everyone but he picks up when you’re not as receptive as usual. you hope he just thinks nothing of it, but you know that’s not possible when he approaches you after lunch as everyone else is washing up in the bathroom.

you’re outside alone, waiting, when he slightly pushes your shoulder to draw your attention. you gasp lightly. “jeonghan?”

“can i talk to you for a sec?”

you frown, “yeah, you’re talking to me right now.”

“come on, y/n, don’t be cold. let’s go for a walk.”

“but, the others—”

“i let mingyu know we’ll be back in a few.”

out of excuses, you silently follow jeonghan’s stride through the busy street. he makes conversation really well, easing you up in no time as he distracts you from what was on your mind. it’s illegal how smoothly he then proceeds to drop the act.

you’re laughing about what he’d said about hoshi’s drinking habits just now, when he suddenly goes serious, “i think i like kazuha.”

you freeze up at that, fighting the frown that itches closer, looking at him like you didn’t hear him. heart’s out of control right now, but at least you were already expecting this outcome. “huh?”

“sorry, i just thought you should know. i’m really into her and i was planning to ask her out sometime this week.”

you would love to pass away right now. immediately, you think you hate jeonghan for doing this to you. it’s clear from his behavior that he knows you like him and that he’s apologizing— he’s rejecting you before you have a chance to confess. he likes kazuha. he’s going to ask her out. you should know that.

you sputter awkwardly, “that’s great! good for you, jeonghan. and um, you really didn’t have to tell me. i’m sure kazuha would love to be with you.”

you never want to speak a word to anyone ever again and you're sweating ever so profusely, so you speed up a little, “and we should get going, no?”

sensing your mood, jeonghan follows along but says, “i’m sorry, y/n. i- i know you…”

you don’t let him finish because it would genuinely kill you to hear him say he knows you like him. “you don’t have to be sorry.” with that, you essentially leave your body. you move fast enough to reach the car, wordlessly getting into the passenger seat and yunjin somehow knows better than to fight you.

the car ride back is filled with music. not much chatter. you realize it’s partly your fault and silently dread being back in the room with kazuha, but to your relief, when you reach she doesn’t bring anything up. you’re too tired to do a try-on like you promised and when mingyu asks if you want to come over to his place, you tell him you’re feeling sleepy. and for once, you actually sleep after telling him that.

sleep is not as much of a comfort as you’d hope for it to be: less of an escape, more jeonghan-themed content. something about heartbreak and living the rest of your life, lovelessly.

—

the next week starts off hectic and you’re thankful for it this once. you could use the chaos of organizing an event to take your mind off things. a small part of you wonders if jeonghan was being merciful by letting you down and timing it so well. knowing him, that doesn’t seem so impossible.

you feel better than you’d imagined you would. you cried like once since the rejection. you didn’t need to worry much at this point, having realizing that it was less important that you’d made it out to be. mingyu, on the other hand, doesn’t give up his worrying, especially when he doesn’t see you until three days into the week. and that, too, because he gave up and thought it would be a good idea to invade your room, at one in the night.

his knocking wakes you up fairly quickly, since you’d only put your phone down a few minutes ago. you rush to the door, afraid of waking kazuha up. “what the fuck, mingyu?” you ask at the sight of him.

“what the fuck yourself! stop ignoring my messages maybe?”

you groan, stepping outside your room, feeling the cold air hit you in your night clothes. “why’d you have to confront me so late at night? can we do this tomorrow? when i’m coherent and not half-naked?”

mingyu falter as if he just realized the time, noticing your tank top and shorts. “i don’t care. i’ll give you my jacket but we’re doing this right here and right now.”

you sigh, knowing this was coming. “forget it, keep your jacket. i’ll go change and be right back.”

mingyu grabs your arm when you try to go back inside, “how do i know you’re not just gonna leave me here to die?”

“dude, my room’s right here. you can come watch me change if you fucking want.”

he lets you go, flustered when you offer and you laugh as you rush back in. in the darkness, kazuha’s voice startles you, “y/n? is everything okay? are you being abducted?”

“oh god, zuha, you scared me. and no, it’s just stupid little mingyu who wants to have a talk. i’ll settle this. go back to sleep.”

she groans, “god, you guys are just like my parents sometimes.”

you laugh at that as you slip into a hoodie and exchange your shorts for pajamas. when you return, mingyu’s sitting at the stairs in front of your room and you hit him in the back.

“ouch! fuck you!” he stands up with a glare, “also i heard what you said about me. why am i stupid and little? can you just choose one insult?"

“let’s go down if we’re gonna argue. zuha can hear us, too. and did you hear what she said after that?” when he seems clueless, you go on, “she said we remind her of her parents sometimes.”

he coughs, “her parents?? what are we, married?”

you roll your eyes, “married and sick of each other, apparently.”

“being zuha’s parents doesn’t sound so bad honestly. she’d be the easiest child to raise.”

“i feel like zuha would raise you if you were her father,” you laugh, “me too, probably.”

“who’d be the father then?”

your smile falls when an answer occurs to you, you mumble, “jeonghan,” sitting at a bench outside your dorm. mingyu joins you, equally solemn now.

“did something happen between you two?”

“yeah. he rejected me when we went shopping that day.”

mingyu’s eyes widen, “what? you confessed?”

you shake your head, a strained smile, “he already knew. i guess i was obvious, but it’s still driving me insane that he rejected me without even giving me a chance to confess.”

“i can’t believe he did that. that’s conceited as fuck.”

“conceited or impressive, i can’t decide. but he told me likes kazuha and that he’s sorry. i genuinely wanted to die when he said that. he was cool about breaking my heart, too. lowkey fell a little harder for him.” you laugh at your own joke, but mingyu looks unhappy, jaw clenched like he’d tasted something bitter.

you hit his arm, “it’s not a big deal, dude. i was thinking about it the past few days and i realized i barely knew the guy. i just knew what he told me over the last year.”

after a pause, “and he’s one beautiful man, so there was that.” you smile a little.

“but he didn’t have to do it like that. he could just stop flirting with you, you know, or wait for you to come around and confess like a normal person,” mingyu says, “he’s such a little jerk.”

“hey, it’s okay, a little flirting didn’t hurt anyone.”

“yeah but he was leading you on, leaving you in ambiguity by doing that. he should’ve been flirting with kazuha, not you.”

“okay, now that’s starting to hurt,” you whine, pressing your forehead against his shoulder, “but i can’t really blame him, no? kazuha’s so precious.”

“don’t be like that, y/n.”

“what? be like what?” you look up, “didn’t you also used to be into kazuha?”

mingyu bites his lip when you bring his years-old crush up, “when will you forget about that? that was so long ago and it was barely serious. she’s too nice to be my type.” (what does that even mean? you wonder but don't have the time to ask.)

“sure, you didn’t want to change residence halls to be closer to her?”

“alright, how many times do i tell you that i did that because of you? why do you never believe me?”

“it just makes more sense the other way,” you mumble, suddenly feeling teary-eyed and hating that you were feeling teary-eyed, which only intensified the teariness in your eyes. “god, this is stupid.”

mingyu’s arm is around in no time when he notices you curling up, your lip tucked between your lips in anticipation, “hey, hey, c'mon, i thought you said it wasn't a big deal. so how come you're crying?"

“because! i feel lame. and because kazuha’s perfect, by the way. she’d probably cry too if she knew i was crying.”

he pulls you closer, “you’re not lame, y/n. you think i’d keep you around so long if i didn’t think you were insanely cool?”

you breathe through your tears, “you just keep me around because i’m insane?”

“insanely cool! open your ears, idiot.”

“you just called me an idiot. idiots are pretty lame.”

he sighs when he feels his tshirt get damper, your body so weak under his hold. he pats your hair softly, “sorry, that’s not what i meant. but seriously, y/n, you know i’m bad at saying this stuff but i seriously cannot stress enough how highly i think of you.” his hand moves to rub your back, “and you’re so much more than perfect, you know? like sometimes you don’t do a paper till three hours before and still get an A. and then, you come up with comebacks to my arguments in your own unique ways, and trust me, nobody can argue with me like you do.”

you pull away, “all right, now you’re embarrassing me. why do i sound like a bossy nerd or something?”

“you can be that at times. hey, but you forgot the part where you’re hot as shit. and also pretty.”

“i feel like that last part was an afterthought, mingyu,” you bite back a laugh, “you really only keep me around for my tits, don’t you?”

“dude, can you let me wholesome for once? i’m trying to console you, so would you stop playing devil’s advocate?”

“sorry, i’m just,” you hesitate with a heavy sigh and then, you blurt out, "i’m scared i’ll never fall in love. i’ll never find it at all.”

“now that’s some stupid thoughts you’re having,” mingyu shakes you by the shoulders, “you’ve just been blinded by your crush on jeonghan for so long that you haven’t explored anyone else at all.”

“are you volunteering to be my crush right now?” you ask, jokingly.

mingyu’s smirk catches you off-guard, “what if i am? it wouldn’t be the worst thing if i was your boyfriend.”

you feel yourself heating up a little for some reason, head in a daze from his earlier shower of compliments and now this. so instead of trying to make sense of it all, you press yourself into him in a hug. “yeah, it wouldn’t.”

—

“hoshi, you little shit!” you throw yourself around the guy when you spot him on the night of the flea market, the product of a long and actually insane week. he laughs when he realizes it’s you, pulling you into a hug, “bro, y/n, why is this my first time seeing in you in literal years?”

“i don’t know, i just kinda see you walking around sometimes. maybe if you actually showed up to econ class, i’d see you more.”

hoshi flinches, “you can’t be bringing econ up right now. that class is kicking my ass. i can’t keep showing up to that kind of humiliation.”

the two of you catch up at last, as people swarm around the different stalls set up along the college street. you were relieved after having finished this damn event. cheers to sleep, right?

hoshi tells you all about his new situationship with a guy in another class and how he’s regretting inviting him to the party tomorrow night. “why? believe it or not, people are more fun when drunk.”

hoshi rolls his eyes, “yeah, well, i couldn’t get any more fun. so instead i become incontrollable. an absolute animal.”

“right, i remember that. so you’re scared you’re gonna drive him off? i wouldn’t worry honestly. and if you want, i can keep you in check.”

he narrows his eyes in distrust, “you? you’re not much better than me drunk, okay? i feel bad for mingyu who’s gonna have to take care of you the whole time.”

you gasp, “wow, you’re taking mingyu’s side now? over mine? i thought we had something special.”

“you thought wrong,” comes mingyu out of nowhere, slinging his arm around hoshi’s shoulders.

“why are you here suddenly?” hoshi looks between the two of you, “i couldn’t not come to an event my lovely y/n herself planned, could i?”

hoshi laughs, “nice to see you two as jolly as ever. but also i must take your leave. i gotta go grab dinner soon.”

“hey, why don’t you come with us? we were gonna check out the new outlet the college opened.”

“oh, i would love to but i have plans with someone already.”

you nod your head in realization, “right of course, have fun. not too much, though. leave some for tomorrow.” he leaves with a full-toothed smile and you face mingyu.

he playfully pinches your cheek, “you confront him about missing us yet?”

you raise a shoulder in response, and as the flea market starts to fizzle out thanks to the darkening sky, your stomach grumbles. “let’s eat, please.”

ever since that night— you don’t want to say anything had changed between you and mingyu because your friendship had been long enough that even the slightest shift in dynamics would harmoniously just become the new status quo; the two of you had been through a lot together. but ever since that night, you’d been fooling around with him more, if that was possible.

it was along the lines of: less banter, more flirting? although one might argue that the former was just a derivative of the other. but semantics aside, this is what you know to be true: friends flirt with each other all the damn time.

that’s what you’re telling yourself when mingyu asks you to feed him some of the fried rice you’d gotten on your plate. and it was true: you’re almost a 100% certain that you’d flirted with every friend of yours, and that was just how it worked.

but intimacy came differently to everyone and mingyu’s just manifested in clinginess. he was pressed to your side for the entirety of dinner, and you couldn’t complain about the proximity. it was welcome, even, this form of friendship.

“you’re thinking too hard.” mingyu’s voice pulls you out of your little reflection session. “what’re you even thinking about? you should be all burnt out from all the work you did this past week.”

“i am,” you affirm, “but some things just don’t let up.”

he chuckles, patting your head affectionately as if to persuade your thoughts to let up for a while. it doesn’t help really, only gravitating the direction of the said thoughts toward kim mingyu even more.

“maybe repetition isn’t as bad as i always make it out to be,” you say, chin propped up against your fist on the table. mingyu had chosen a corner table of the newly opened eatery, next to a low window that glowed behind you in the remains of sunset as he shifted to completely face you. the sun had finally set. again.

“you’re right. routine is good for people.”

“but it doesn’t have to stay the same forever, you know?”

“hm?” mingyu can’t help but feel like you’re edging toward some underlying topic. you were like this since he could remember: you’d start off with some abstract and vaguely relevant concept (that had no doubt been plaguing you for a long time) and slowly circle around till he caught onto what you meant. you love playing games with him.

“repetition doesn't have to be redundant? i think there's something more subtle about it.”

he doesn’t know where you’re going with this, “but repetition is literally the same thing over and over?”

“yeah, but the ‘same thing’ itself can evolve,” your fingers knock against his, “i don’t know, i was just thinking about… us.”

“us? i guess we would be a good example of repetition.”

your gaze falls from his to find your hand instead, your fingers wrapping around his wrist until you’ve forced his palm open. his hand in your lap upside down, you pull at the fingers, “yeah, but we’ve changed a lot. for one, we fight a lot less. sometimes when i’m going to tell you a thought, you understand mid-sentence what i mean.”

“yeah, well, that’s what we get for knowing each that long. but really, what’s this about, y/n?” he captures your hand in his expertly, pulling your attention back to his face.

“do you ever think we should be more?”

mingyu breathes a laugh at that, a shiver running down his spine when he spots the solemn look on your face. and then, his smile turns grave. “y/n, we’ve talked about this before, haven’t we?”

“have we? every time i’m the one who brings it up and you kinda just shrug it off. no, don’t even try to argue with me. you shrug the serious stuff off. always.”

it’s true, mingyu admits in defeat, mind racing as he considers why you’re bringing this up now. the answer is easy: you were finally available. but he doesn’t say it out loud, like he never does. you’d confronted him about the state of your friendship before, unafraid to wonder out loud what it would be like if you started dating. you’ve received all forms of shut-downs from mingyu before so you figured you were the only one in an ambiguous place about your feelings for him.

if someone was to ask if you like mingyu, you’d probably say yes, but it’s more than that. you know better than to blindly fall for him. witnessing him in his relationships before, you know he can be ruthlessly cold to his partner once he’s out of love. you practice romantic love for mingyu: carefully because too much would definitely be dangerous.

“i have my reasons, y/n.” there it is. the strict mingyu. the rigidity in setting his boundaries was something you admired and aspired for when he exhibited it in the past. right now, you want to punch him.

you’re without a filter with him so it’s unfair when he treats you like this. you let him know as much: “i want to punch you right now. i’ve hidden nothing from you, and yet, there’s this wall you keep yourself behind. is this really one-sided?”

mingyu doesn’t know what to do with you right now, “y/n, why are you—”

“no, because it's not like i can't take a hint. so one minute you're flirting with me and then, you push me away like right now,” you point to his estranged fingers, “but then you act like nothing happened and go right back to being all intimate and touchy.”

“i just…” mingyu lets out an exasperated sigh, “i just don’t see the reason for labels. why do we have force ourselves into a restriction like that? we’ve always been above conforming.”

it’s your turn to sigh heavy enough your head hits the wall behind you. wasn’t this just his way of friend-zoning you back into silence? you’ve always been too embarrassed to push him this far because you don’t mean to hurt him. but you feel as though you’ve hurt yourself long enough now.

“so why’d you say that the other night? that it would be nice if you were my boyfriend?”

this leaves him speechless for a few beats and you continue, “that was just because i was heartbroken from jeonghan? you’re playing prince charming for me so i can go back to being your trusty little best friend?”

“y/n, you know that’s not true. i’m not playing anything in your life. i’m just being myself.”

you scoff, “you really are so fucking—”

“why are we actually fighting right now?” mingyu asks through an incredulous laugh, “this is actually so petty, dude, let’s stop. you know i love you, right?”

mingyu’s last resort makes its presence: a non-committal i love you. because at the end of the day, you’re still best friends. what was a little ‘i love you’ in today’s economy? nothing. especially when you’d hear him throw the phrase around all the time.

you stand up in defeat, “fine, let’s stop. you win.” you gesture for him to move to the side and he does so reluctantly when you glare at him like you’re genuinely mad. (you are.)

he follows you out the door, catching your elbow to slow you down. “don’t be like this. i know you’re mad at me.”

“i’m not mad. i'm tired and i just want to go back to my room,” you seethe, walking faster than him. he grabs hold of your shoulder turning you around.

“if you’re gonna storm off, at least go the right way.” you huff softly and let him steer you the right way to your dorm, hands still on you. you spend the way to the front of your room silently, waiting for mingyu to say something but he just does what he does best: take care of you.

as you reach the door of your room, he pauses, apologetic smile on display. “listen, let’s talk more tomorrow? get some sleep.” he reaches for your hair, tenderly running his fingers through the locks. there it is: the soft mingyu, his eyes wide as he stares you down for signs of stress.

his warm arm pressed againsts yours, you realize you don’t want him to just leave. you know the drill: tomorrow morning, he’ll text you to meet for lunch and everything will go back to being unsaid. maybe he’ll bring along seungcheol so you don’t bring anything up again. either way, it’ll be so natural you’ll think nothing ever happened. but you want something to happen.

so your hand settles around his bicep to hold on and partly to keep him in place. you lean in, “let me do one last thing and if you want to stop, i’m never bringing this up again. i promise.”

you don’t give mingyu a moment to react to your words and instead raise yourself up to his level, other hand on his chest, and press your lips to his. you kiss mingyu after the thirteen years that you’ve known him and the ten that you’ve wanted to. you counted the years just as you count the seconds that it takes for him to come to his senses and pull himself away.

he looks less upset than you imagined: more dazed. like he can’t believe what you’ve done. he looks at you with his lips parted and you have to tear your gaze apart, lest you should tear yourself apart with longing.

“y/n, i…” he looks away and that’s enough evidence you need. you step away from him, your easy smile back in its place, not before you pat his arm as it falls from you.

“it's okay. i understand. let’s be friends, mingyu,” you declare suddenly, catching him off-guard. you'd pulled all the stops and if he genuinely was uncomfortable with pushing the line between platonic and romantic, you would respect that.

he begins to say something but you don’t want to hear him speak, at least not right now when the sound of blood rushing to your head is the loudest it's ever been, and you certainly don’t want to falter again. you’ve decided. “good night."

—

mingyu should feel relieved. he really should be happy that you’re back to normal around him, friendly and playful like you’ve always been. he should count his blessings that you’ve accepted the status of your relationship with him as it is. but as he falls asleep that night, all that comes to his mind is the smile you’d sported as you asked to be friends.

it was all wrong: your lips against his, that was something of his dreams, not a reality he has to be escaping from. it replays in his head, your scent that he’d caught a whiff of now and then, whenever you’d wrap your arms around him. the heat of your skin he’d rationalize as the comforting presence of a friend for days later.

he’ll soon come to know how insanely stupid he’s being right now but until you knock some sense into him, he simply plays along with a sting he hides pretty well. he should, he’s been doing it for years now.

it’s the night of hoshi’s party already and he’s walking over to the location of the pregame, alone because according to a text fifteen minutes ago, you’re still not ready. you’d invited yunjin and some other friends to your and kazuha’s abode to apparently make the process easier, but if mingyu knows anything about the group, you’ve probably spent more time selecting the right song to play than get ready.

the door to dino and hoshi’s shared residence is already open as he strolls in, finding a group already on the floor, taking shots. he makes eye contact with jeonghan who beckons him closer and mingyu takes a seat next to him.

space is scarce so mingyu finds his arm pressed uncomfortably close to jeonghan’s, who oohs at mingyu’s fit, “ooh, you look positively sexy.”

mingyu grimaces, “do you have to put it like that?” he does look … positively sexy, mingyu admits, in the navy blue shirt he wore but— and here’s the punchline— with the buttons undone all the way to right above his navel.

“where’s y/n, by the way?” jeonghan asks, an eye at the entrance as he slides a shot glass toward mingyu. the question irks mingyu for obvious reasons and he keeps him waiting for a minute, waiting to down the liquid in glass (vodka unfortunately for his throat) to answer him. “um, she’s still getting ready. any minute now.”

“ha, that means she’ll be another ten. that’s a shame, i was hoping to pour her first shot.” jeonghan shrugs resentfully.

maybe the alcohol’s working faster since it’s been a while for mingyu, but his mouth runs faster than his head, “why’d you care? i thought you asked kazuha out a while ago.”

jeonghan raises a brow at that, “hmm. i did. but things did not work out so well. what with kazuha feeling guilty about y/n and… well, i also…”

“feel guilty?” mingyu asks, voice strained. he’s annoyed at having to listen to jeonghan’s side of the story. he could not care less about humanizing him and whatnot. he’s watched you suffer for far too long to be empathetic right now.

“yeah. and i thought i might like y/n, too, after all.” jeonghan says it so casually as if discussing his performance in a particularly challenging college course, not his feelings for a person who he’d recently rejected.

the word might pierces mingyu’s ears. the uncertainty behind it is in such stark contrast to his own… feelings toward you that he genuinely feels his breath heat up.

or maybe that’s just jeonghan when he leans over to refill his glass. “drink up, buddy.” mingyu’s just about ready to make a scene right now, shoving jeonghan’s hand off his back but suddenly jeonghan’s standing up, making his way to—

you. you’re here.

almost as soon as he catches sight of you, he looks away, pretending to give the vodka in his hand all the attention in the world, as he puts his lips to it and empties it. head is now light. that’s probably enough for now, he decides as he puts his glass down.

when he looks back up, you’re at the kitchen counter with yunjin and kazuha.. and jeonghan, who’s grinning as he hands out the bottles of fireball to the group, no doubt marketing it so convincingly that you’d think you came up with the idea yourself.

mingyu shoots to his feet, regretting it when his vision darkens but he pushes past, eyes focused on your figure— god, he forgot how hot you look in that dress. he tries to keep his thoughts in check as he approaches you, but it doesn’t help that your makeup’s even more meticulous than usual, eyes glittering and lips delightfully glossy.

he breaks into the space between you and jeonghan, arm against yours, catching your attention.

“my guy!!” you exclaim when you see him and then your eyes trail down to his chest and then back up to his face where his hair sits parted with the help of some gel. “you look like a slut. i love it.”

mingyu laughs, subjecting you to a similar once-over, “you’re one to talk.” your hair’s back in a bun of sorts, a rare occurrence because you seem to prefer have it around your face. he can’t help but pause at your exposed collarbones, the gold shadow you applied there earlier doing wonders to his already dazed headspace.

“is it already that part of the night where mingyu starts hitting on everyone?” yunjin complains, reserving the alternate version of her question (something along the lines of how impolitely he’d been eye-fucking you in front of everyone) for some other time as she nudges you to open the fireball in your hands.

you do so, looking at jeonghan who offers one to mingyu, which he refuses as he leans against the counter, hand silently at your back just in case. “you’re not drinking?” you ask, quietly enough only for the two of you, just in case he wasn’t comfortable sharing.

“nah, i just had two shots of vodka back there. trying not to mix for the sake of me tomorrow,” he mutters, patting your back encouragingly, “but let me know if you need help finishing that.”

jeonghan eyes mingyu on the side as the trio clink their bottles together and get to downing them. later, as things start picking up and more people make their way into the party, mingyu finds your arm. “do you want me to stay close by?” he frames the question in a way that you have an out, because he can tell that you’re still unhappy with him.

but you’re tipsy when your hand interlocks into his, “only if you’re going to dance like you mean it.”

the night goes better than you expect it to, especially since mingyu’s let loose for once. or perhaps… he’s always this carefree when drunk, palms kneading at your waist, keeping you close to his chest, which you try your best to not get too used to touching. he sure knows how to keep you on your toes (sometimes literally) even when wasted because you’re trying not to get too close. for you own sake.

that is until hoshi shows up beside you two, pulling you apart as he introduces you to a friend.. or a partner? you can’t hear in this state and just as you try to lean in closer to hear what he’s saying, you feel a presence at your shoulder, fingers poking you.

you turn to find jeonghan behind you, sloppy smile on his face as he screams something at you. you frown, asking him to repeat himself, hand on his bicep to steady yourself against the movement of the party.

“need to talk to you about something!” his words come at you, clearer. “right now?” you shout back, “what the fuck is it?” your body doesn’t want to stop moving so you groove against his side, and momentarily catching a glimpse mingyu’s heavy gaze on you. you almost completely stop then but jeonghan’s pulling you away, after him to a relatively emptier zone of the house.

you’re breathless, you realize, now that the spell of the music’s been broken. you rest against the damp wall behind you, uncaring as you look around for a liquid to quench your thirst. cunning as ever, jeonghan’s already handing you a plastic cup with a transparent liquid.

you narrow your eyes at him despite how wasted you are. “what’s this?”

he laughs, “i’m glad you’re vigilant as ever. this is water. cold. drink up.”

you comply, your throat throbbing ever so lesser after you’re done and you sigh in relief. “you might have broken my heart but you’re still an angel, jeonghan.”

“ahhh,” he exclaims joining your side against the wall. you frown when you take note of his fingers clasped together, almost fidgeting. yoon jeonghan, fidgety? that’s a first for you.

“actually, that’s what i wanted to talk to you about…”

when mingyu looks away from hoshi and his company to see if you were listening and when he finds out that you’re in fact in jeonghan’s embrace, he’s suddenly sober. and when your eyes find his for a moment, something in them changes and he calls out your name like a warning. but then jeonghan’s already leading you elsewhere.

mingyu wants to follow after you immediately but he realizes hoshi’s still talking to him. “hoshi, bro, can i find you in a while? i gotta make sure y/n’s okay.”

but hoshi stops him in his tracks, hand on his chest, “wait. please tell me you told her…?” he trails off uncertainly as mingyu catches on what he’s saying.

“i haven’t,” he admits, eyes still searching the crowd for you, “but i think it’s time that i do. only so much i can take.”

“that’s the spirit, man! okay, now go kiss y/n for me.” hoshi pushes mingyu with a start, not before the the latter shoots the man a glare and takes off in his search for you.

you’re still in that corner with jeonghan, who’s done narrating the past week’s revelations to you, all about his failed attempts with kazuha and his slow understanding of his real feelings about you. you’re far more unaffected that either of you was expecting, arms crossing in thought.

but then you say, “well, that’s fucking stupid. because i’ve realized i wasn’t as down bad for you as i once thought i was.” jeonghan’s smile falls a little with a disappointed sigh. “but,” you continue, “you know what i’m still curious about?”

when your hand creeps up jeonghan’s shoulder, he thinks he knows where you’re going with this. “i’ve wanted know if you’re really as good at kissing as everyone makes you out to be.” jeonghan’s already moving closer to you, enveloping your face in his hands, and his devilish grin’s spills out as his lips find your ear. “let’s find out?”

and that’s how mingyu finds you wrapped around jeonghan, making out like this was your last day living. and for a moment, he considers giving up and letting you have this. he even stops in his tracks in the crowd, his thoughts so easily drowned out by the music if he just lets go.

but his mind’s reeling when the sight of you kissing someone else just pushes him back a day ago when you were leaning up into him, soft breaths risking your lips against his and the way your body pressed into his just right. his feet move without a thought, then, shouldering through the bodies around the two in the corner.

you’re just pulling away from jeonghan to start to say something about how that wasn’t too bad when his body is lifted away from yours with an unannounced jerk. you gasp and then once again when mingyu’s face comes floating in front of yours.

“mingyu,” you breathe, unsteady from the series of events this past minute, “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“what the fuck are you doing?!” he screams in your face, hands on both arms to keep you from moving. jeonghan’s walking to your side and you want to say something to apologize but you’re far too infuriated with the man in front of you to think.

“i don’t know! trying to get laid? finding happiness? love?!” you scream back with as much force. you call out jeonghan’s name, “i’m sorry. mingyu’s too drunk to—”

“jeonghan,” warns mingyu when the guy tries to break you free from his embrace, “can i have a minute with y/n.” it isn't a question.

jeonghan has the nerve to say, “maybe not. i wouldn’t leave you alone with her in this state.”

“oh, she’ll be just fine,” he replies and jeonghan simply looks at you for confirmation. but you’re still looking at mingyu, starting to tear up, head throbbing all at once. you stop fighting against his grip and mumble in defeat, “whatever.”

“if you’re going to lecture me about being bad, i don’t really want to hear it.” you’re back next to the kitchen counters with mingyu beside you. slowly, you sit yourself up on the surface, feeling exhausted. “i’ve heard it before.”

“no, that’s not what i’m doing. i just want you to stop and think clearly—”

you groan when you hear the beginnings of a typical you’ll regret this in the morning type talk, you slide off the counter and to your delight, you run into a guy holding up a can of beer for the taking. you’re quick to jump at it, grabbing it up from him and pulling the tab of the can open. just as you put the beer to your lips, ready to chug it, you feel it being pulled away, the next few moments occuring before you can comprehend anything.

suddenly you’re sitting back on the counter and your dress rides up when you feel mingyu push himself in between your legs. at first, you see his face close on yours and then the taste of beer meets your throat. no, it’s not just beer— it’s mingyu. his tongue spills onto yours, beer mixing with saliva and when you try to pull away, his hand at your neck tightens. you sit up straight and you feel his watch digging into your spine.

your head spins when you can finally breathe, inhaling only to cough out. heart in your throat, you look at mingyu in disbelief, “what the fuck!” but he’s already taking another sip of the beer and some of it slides down your throat into your dress, when his mouth finds yours again.

you’re weak in his arms, and the heat between your legs is only so rational. so you find yourself giving in and kissing him back when the liquid runs out, nails finding his scalp, earning you a deep groan that vibrates against your chest. that’s when he pulls away again, eyes finally meeting yours with an unprecedented intensity.

he leans in again, wet kiss against your cheek, followed by a grunted whisper of, “i love you so fucking much, y/n. it’s so hard to watch you run around with other men.”

you want to think you’re hearing things but mingyu doesn’t let you, another kiss right in the nape of your neck that sends shudders down your back. “i want to be yours so fucking bad. want to spoil you like you deserve.”

you swallow against the moan that rises in your throat, to pull mingyu’s face back to your eye-level, “then why aren’t you mine? why’d you push me away?” your voice breaks, betraying the pretense of indifference you try to prop up. his eyes soften, fingers brushing against your forehead.

his lips quiver and he sighs defeatedly. it’s a miracle you can hear him with all that noise around you. but you hear him clear as day against your hair when he finally says, “i’m scared. of loving you too much, of being too much. and i’m scared of losing you.”

mingyu’s imagined telling you these exact words before and how you’d react to them infinite times before but when you giggle into his collarbone, he pulls away with a blank look. your forehead is against his all over again and for the second time night you say, “that’s fucking stupid! if you were going to lose me, it would’ve happened a while ago.”

of all the things he’d imagine you saying in response, this was the simplest option, so unlike your usual overthinking self. maybe it’s the alcohol and adrenaline in your system speaking but mingyu somehow feels comforted, because maybe it really is that simple. it would’ve happened if it was going to. or maybe mingyu’s too drunk to make sense of it all right now.

so his lips are moving against yours once again, without warning, your breath all his when his arms tighten once against around you. you’re laugh grounds him enough to break away. you open your mouth to complain about the distance when mingyu’s back against your skin.

“shut the fuck up,” he groans, the command making you hotter than you’d like to admit. your legs close around his ass, pulling him closer and his hand slips across your boobs. the friction of his palm against the tight fabric of your dress makes you let out an undignified moan into mingyu.

that’s when he knows he needs to take you to somewhere more private for reasons more than one. you’re too lightheaded to move yourself so mingyu’s carrying out the house without a word anyone you two came with. it’s only when the cold air hits you that you realize you’re outside.

you struggle against mingyu until you're back on your feet and stop. “where are we going? i’m— do i know you, mister guy?” for a second, mingyu’s heart sinks when he wonders if you thought you were just making out with a stranger. then, you say, “i need to go back and find mingyu. gotta kiss him.”

ignoring the blush that colors his face, he grabs hold of your elbow, “i am mingyu, idiot. and we’re going to my room.” you shake your head to clear your vision, eyes widening when you recognize him. your hand finds his face with a light laugh, “ah! it’s my big guy.” the name doesn’t help mingyu’s condition at all, so he’s pulling you after him faster than before.

back at the party, kazuha starts panic when she realizes she’s lost hold of you, unable to locate you anywhere within the party. she tugs at yunjin’s sleeve who looks over in concern, “what happened to y/n? i can’t find her anywhere.” yunjin laughs at that, covering her mouth with her hand. “don’t worry about her. i saw her and mingyu leave together earlier. she’s probably in heaven by now, if i’m right.”

“hmm?” kazuha pauses as a thought pops up into her head, “wait… did they…?” yunjin grins knowingly, “yup. it really was high time they fucked.” the former lets out a satisfied giggle, “i know. they were so obvious without even being together. i was getting tired.”

“you were getting tired?!” you gasp at mingyu later in the night, panting against his pillow. you’re on your back and he throws you a tshirt of his to sleep in now that your dress is… demolished. you look at it sadly out of the corner of your eye. “i really liked that dress,” you whine, as he picks the remains of it up with a somewhat smug grin, “planned to wear it out again.”

“i couldn’t risk that. you looked too good in it,” he chuckles to himself as he jumps into bed with you. you sit up, feigning anger as you slip the cotton over your head, warming up when the smell of mingyu greets you. “i don’t know if i could resist seeing your tits out like that.”

you hit his chest hard with a lighthearted scoff, “i knew it! you’re such a pervert. not just a pervert, you’re also a brute.” you groan as you rub your thighs together gingerly. mingyu props himself up, pulling you down into a hug, rubbing your back. “sorry, does it hurt a lot?”

“it’ll hurt more in the morning,” you relax in his arms, pressing a loving kiss into his hair, “should’ve known you went so rough. asshole.” you giggle when he pulls away in disbelief at the last insult.

“how could you—!” you roll away from him, laughing. he shifts closer, caging you against the wall behind you, “hey, you can’t say stuff like fuck i knew you’d have a big dick and then expect me to go all vanilla! do you know what that does to a guy?”

you shriek in embarrassment, “don’t bring that up now!” your ears redden when mingyu forces you by the chin to look up at him. “besides, where do you think the nicknames like big gyu and big guy came from?”

mingyu’s jaw falls open at the revelation and you break out into a fit of laughter at his mindblown expression. “how- how long have you been thinking about my di-”

you hit him to stop him, “ever since you kept pushing me away,” you run a hand down his side, sly grin on your swollen lips, “and i had to come up with something if i wanted to get myself off alone.”

with an exasperated groan, he falls against you, suffocating you as his body goes limp above yours. you let out a gasp when you feel him hardening against your leg and he speaks into your neck, “you’re seriously telling me i’ve been missing out on taking you like this for… for how long now?”

you kiss his cheek, hand slipping down his boxers with a soft exhale, “a while. and if you hadn’t come to your senses today… well, i’d all but given up on you today. when jeonghan kissed me, i was just going to—”

suddenly your breath escapes you, mingyu’s hand around your throat and his lips on yours with a loud grunt. he stops your hand in its movements, “please tell me you’re not talking about jeonghan while— fuck!” he gasps when you bite his lower lip to protest his hand on yours. his hand gives way and you’re palming the tent in his boxers again, pushing him down against the bed, so thankful he doesn’t have a rooommate in times like this.

you place a kiss at the corner of his lips and trail down his chest, shirt long gone, before muttering, “forgive me?”

—

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

i really want to write a more wholesome ending but have not the time or energy right now, so i'll be back with a shorter spin-off/ epilogue of sorts about how you and mingyu as a couple work out, how your friends react, some skinship, etc.

anyway, this is my official announcement that i've become a baby carat :] didn't know how much i was missing out on before svt so this is very fun. so far, jeonghan's my favorite little guy, although as is clear from this... mingyu makes me do things. on the roster are: minghao and joshua. hopefully there will be more svt fics in the future. no promises <3 goodbye friends and foes!!

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ebbpup · 2 months

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posting about this au cause i like it

more about it under here

timeline time!!

(This part is also like, a headcanon for the canon timeline) so wanda and cosmo leave for vacation, its pretty soon after they stop living with timmy, so maybe when peri is 9-10. they leave him in the care of Cosmo's parents, however it can be difficult for them so other fairies (probably some of the main ones we see outside of the family) would look after him. there were lots of expectations set on him due to how powerful he was at birth and his family history so he always pushed himself to do as good as he could! He even got a scholarship into a really good school!

now, here is where the timeline diverges, while for the canon timeline, Peri keeps trying, gets into a good college/university, becomes a fairy godparents, ect. ect. but not here, when he's about 16 he's tired of all the pressure put on him, he wants out, he envies the humans and wishes he could have a life like that. so why doesn't he? he packs his stuff and leaves. he's figured out how to give himself more human proportions but he has to wear a beanie and a jacket to hide his wings and crown. he manages to find a new family (he says his bio parents are dead), goes to a normal school and starts living a normal, "human" life.

eventually he is able to move out of home and into the apartment complex along with 3 roommates (will design them soon, probably). he gets into college/university and is able to do an online course (of what? idk). his life is good! he hasn't seen anything magical in years! nobody knows where he is (they are aware he is missing in fairy world but have no idea where he could be, not even Irep [or, still Foop since he doesn't know that Peri changed his name] knows where he is)! everything is good. everything is peaceful.

he has no idea that his parents have moved in a floor below him, he only finds out once he runs into the new family in town. Peri bumps into Hazel in her family, that's where the first comic takes place. They keep bumping into him and decide to invite him over for dinner since he seems like such a nice guy and has been very welcoming, Hazel suggests that they invite Wanda and Cosmo too since they've also been very welcoming and they decide, sure why not! By this point Hazel knows that Cosmo and Wanda think that Peri might be their kid since they have told her, and she's gonna give them the opportunity to talk to him! The dinner is a nightmare for Peri, dodging every single question that could reveal his identity, they can't know that he's their son, he can't go back to fairy world! luckily Hazel's parents don't really leave so they can't ask him directly, but the questions do get close. eventually the dinner ends and he can go home.

Que his parents constantly looking for him and Peri hiding, so many occasions of them just missing him. They've probably told others in Fairy World about how they've found him, even Irep finds out (who is now pissed at the name change). So eventually not only is he hiding from his parents, but sometimes others will also try to find him because like dude you went missing as a teenager of course they are looking for you.

also, Peri needs a job and gets hired as a babysitter to look after Dev. Dev and Hazel becoming friends is a nightmare for him.

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faevi · 10 months

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TABOO LOVE. - (gojo smut)

Scenario: Your parents & Geto Suguru are visiting you & Satoru’s new apartment. You’re nervous about having to keep such a big secret. You’re step-siblings & your parents thought it was such a wonderful idea to share an apartment in a new city. Good thing Satoru helps you relax. Before & after their visit.

Word Count: 18,762.

Content / Trigger Warning: female reader (she/her), dark content, STEPCEST (step-siblings), STEPBRO!gojo, daddy kink, cunnilingus, fingering, squirting, blowjob, face-fucking, breath-play (via cock), choking, unprotected sex, sexual intercourse, cowgirl position, creampie, cock-warming, spanking (impact play), dirty talk, degradation, humiliation, hickeys, marking someone, bruises, pain, dacryphilia, crying, big dick gojo, stomach bulging, cum denial, multiple orgasms, a stressful dinner with the fam(?), hiding a taboo secret, jealousy, everything is consensual, tit slapping, body worshipping, possessiveness, suguru is here too!!! not really a warning but if it piques people's interest, suguru temporarily shows interest in you, too.

I think that’s it?? Please let me know (kindly) if I accidentally missed anything and I’ll add it!

Note: Obviously please take note that this is dark content and contains something that is taboo - being step-siblings. Aka stepcest. Don't read if you don't like it (: It’s not just 18k words of smut, I did actually write the dinner scene, which was kind of rough to write basically 5 characters at once kldfjgdf. Instead of the usual 2. I haven’t edited this and yet again, not my best writing but, I hope people will still read and enjoy it ; - ;. Please let me know if you do!

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS, PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT!!!

Satoru could hear your anxious footsteps throughout the entire apartment, hand cupping his cheek as his elbow rested against the edge of the couch, watching you with slight amusement as you moved from room to room. He’s not as worried as you are about the upcoming scenario that will play out. Satoru clears his throat before calling out.

“Baby, just come and relax. Sit with your ever-so-handsome boyfriend.”

You look over your shoulder in the direction of his voice, choking on a strangled laugh at his words before head whipping around to double-check the set of drawers in the shared bedroom. The photo frames aren’t there. Good. Instead, just a cluttered mess of Satoru’s belongings. That was your idea.

“You should probably start calling yourself my stepbrother again, for practice. Don’t want you slipping up.” You couldn’t help but whine out dramatically, footsteps thumping down the hallway until you’re back in sight of Satoru. You stand there for a moment, gazing at him. Satoru’s eyebrow raises, hand extending out towards you.

Your boyfriend— Also known as your stepbrother, doesn’t seem nervous at all. In a couple of hours, your parents are visiting for dinner. Both of you were lucky enough to claim excuses to move to another city about a year ago and it’s been perfect. Your excuse was university and Satoru’s was work. Your parents didn’t even question sharing an apartment when it was noted that there were two bedrooms. Just being friendly roommates as well as step-siblings. It was way, way more than that to the pair of you. Deep down in your teenage years, you were always attracted to your stepbrother and desperately tried to be in denial. Until that one fateful night where you ended up in his arms after drunk-possessive sex; learning that he felt the same way towards you. That is a story for another time; feeling too stressed out to think fondly of your first time with your stepbrother.

Now there is no more hiding behind closed doors. Able to hold each other’s hands. Go on public dates. Lots of public affection— That was definitely a pleasant surprise to learn that Satoru is a sucker to hold onto you in public and not be ashamed. Even mutual friends from the city are utterly oblivious to your ‘history’ outside of dating. It’s impossible to just cut your family outright. Especially when love and good relationships are tightly bound. You still want your family. It’s just… Satoru was more than that. Good thing you both just have to be quiet about your passionate love affair, away from family and old friends.

“Y/N, snap out of it and just sit on my lap already. There’s nothing to worry about.” Satoru attempts to reassure you as he reaches out for you, fingers twitching with eagerness to touch you. He loves touching you. Can never get enough. His large hands manage to grab you by your hips and pull you in close. You prevent him from pulling you directly onto his lap, hand against his toned chest.

“How are you not nervous? Worried, even? Our parents are coming in about five hours and you’re just sitting there being all—“

“All?” Satoru asks, lips forming a playful grin as his fingers caress your hips, loving the sight of you squirming and pathetically trying to pull his hands off of your body. He knows your body craves him. All the time. Since day one or even before that day.

“Cute.” You sigh with feign annoyance and collapse onto his lap, unable to resist the comfort that is Gojo Satoru. His arms wrap around you and pull you with ease until you’re slumped against his upper body, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I am nervous, I just don’t see the logic of being your kind of nervous.” He jokes lightly, ignoring the jab of your elbow. Even dating, you both still have the habit of the bickering, playful sibling moments you developed through the teenage years of knowing each other. Not many years apart, in his defence. Not even blood-related. Didn’t /exactly/ grow up together. You met him when he was already in his upper teenage years. Those are the excuses he’d try to use if anyone found out and showed disgust. Satoru may have been protective of you when you were younger and still going through high school but, he never really viewed you as a close sister or anything. He cared for you but, in his eyes; His father and your mother ended up together. You were just there, ready to cause havoc and have him fall for you.

“They’re just staying for dinner, alright? We can handle that much. Sit opposite of each other and do that typical sibling shit.” He reassures, long fingers playing with a few strands of your pretty hair. He always liked your hair. You bury your face against the side of his neck and inhale deeply, wishing you could just soak in everything that is him. “But, I hate doing that. I came here to get away from it and to be with you properly. As lovers.” You confess quietly, voice shaking. Satoru’s face softens from hearing your words. Usually, people think he can’t be serious. Friends often joke about him not having a serious bone in his body. They’re all wrong. You know the real Satoru, every shade of him. His hand comes down to tenderly stroking along your back, pressing multiple kisses to the top of your head.

“I know, baby girl. It always feels close to impossible and I want to just kiss you whenever I want, without having to worry. It’s just sometimes, we have to go back to what we originally were— siblings. Step-siblings.” He corrects himself swiftly, nails grazing your back lightly. Not blood-related and never will be. “It won’t be every day, Y/N. Just a couple of times a year, maximum. Just for a few hours, okay?” He says in his low voice, feeling you relax into him.

You hate to admit that he’s right. It’s even a miracle that this is the first time your parents are visiting this year and they won’t be for Christmas. You should look at this as luck. You can do this. Just for a few hours. You’re beyond nervous about everything and sure, wish you could hold his hand over the dining table but… You can do this. Both of you can. You sniffle quietly, tilting your head to look at the wall, still clinging onto the white-haired male who easily towers above you, even when sitting. “Okay... There’s nothing that screams us being a couple out in the open, right? All tucked away?”

Satoru playfully rolls his eyes, fingers curling around your chin to gently coax you to look up at him. “Everything is hiding, even my monster-sized condoms. So they can think their charming son gets zero action at all.” Satoru adds jokingly, enjoying the sight of your expression twisting and smacking his chest. “Rather they think that than you fucking someone that isn’t me.” You grumble quietly, leaning in to bump your nose against his. “Ah-ah, Y/N. You know how I feel when you show your jealous side. Better watch your mouth before I fuck it and get cum stains on the couch from there being too much of my seed for you to swallow.” Satoru teases, feeling rather endeared that you made no rejection of ‘monster-sized’. To you, he’s so huge that you can’t even deny that. Satoru leans in to press his lips against yours eagerly; desperate to get his fill before the nerve-wracking night begins.

Every sensible thought went right out of the window as you responded to the kiss with your own eagerness. Hands coming up to cup his cheeks as your body presses against his, fitting against him perfectly like soulmates. You belong to him, thinking so when he’s able to leave you so breathless and your head spinning just from a single kiss. His soft tiers move against yours, slowly devouring you. His finger presses against the underside of your chin to keep your head in place, wanting to take his sweet time with you. The white-haired male’s other hand glides down to boldly grope your ass cheek, easily coaxing out a needy whimper from you.

“Nn, wait— We can’t, mmf..” You try to stop Satoru from going any further, but words fall on deaf ears. His long fingers splay out across your ass cheek, roughly tugging on the thin fabric that acts as a shield. “I don’t fucking care about making a mess, baby. We have plenty of time. Let Daddy ease your nerves, hm? Don’t you want Daddy to take care of you?” Satoru whispers hotly against your ear between deep breaths, firm hands pushing you further down against his crotch, cock already throbbing. It isn’t about him, though. Satoru wants to help you relax and he knows that his fingers alone can make you melt and keen for him.

Your head already starts to feel fuzzy and warm. People would probably tell you that you’re going to hell if they knew that you call, not only your boyfriend but your stepbrother; Daddy. Neither of you cared. It just felt right between you both. “Can we at least move to the bedroom?” You plead softly, feeling two of his digits drag along the wet patch that forms on your shorts. “Y/N, you’re so fucking filthy. Already getting so wet just from me fondling your ass and kissing you? You’re soaked.”

The humiliation drives you further, embarrassed as a hand clamps tightly over your mouth to muffle the sounds that dare to escape as the two fingers continue to drag up and down slowly. Satoru always enjoys humiliating you. He can be quite sadistic and the only one who can handle him is you. Still, Satoru isn’t /too/ evil and still prefers you to feel comfort and so he lifts you with ease, carrying you down the hallway, hand soothingly rubbing along your back once more. Your arms and legs wrap around his tall form, clinging to him so tightly. Satoru just finds it cute. It’s even cuter when you hug his arm, breasts cushioning either side as you try not to act jealous of a girl hitting on him. If only you knew that no girl could ever even compete with you. He’ll always be your lover and stepbrother. The world doesn’t matter to his selfish heart.

From a height, Satoru just drops you onto the bed that you both share, laughing at the sight of your playful glare, body bouncing from the mattress. The sight of his wide grin is more than enough to ease your mind. You love this man. “Shall I grab the camera and take some photos? Plaster them all across the walls for our parents to see?” He jokes, hand instantly grabbing a hold of your ankle and you move to kick him. “I’m supposed to be the bratty one, Satoru.” You say breathlessly, feeling his large hands tenderly massaging up your leg. He leans down to press a kiss to your ankle, bright blue eyes focused on your face. “You are the brat and I can easily put you in place. Babbling like a crybaby as your ass throbs. My sweet crybaby. All mine. Let me focus on making my girl feel good.”

Satoru gently drops your leg before he easily manhandles your body until you’re resting against the pillows, hands firmly keeping your quivering legs apart as he starts to lower himself to the ground, just at the edge of the bed. “W-Wait! Maybe we should— get a towel, or something.. So we don’t make a mess.. They’ll explore, I know they will.” You mumble out shyly, yelping from the pleasant sting of pain that spreads through your inner thigh, glancing down to see Satoru’s hand now soothing the pain. “Stop worrying. We have plenty of time.” He attempts to reassure you, though far too distracted by his lust to properly calm you down. Selfish? Maybe. Satoru just knows that you will end up relaxing and even chasing for more of his touch.

Making sure you’re close enough, Satoru wraps his arms around your quivering thighs to hoist you towards him, dragging your body across the neatly made bed before his face is buried against your cunt, inhaling the scent of your sex deeply. You whimper softly, shifting yourself onto your elbows to see the gorgeous sight you’ll never be able to forget. Your stepbrother between your legs. The white-haired male looks up at you from beneath his white lashes, tongue flat as he drags it teasingly along your covered folds, knowing that you’re only wearing booty shorts that are already soaking through. Your breath hitches from feeling the fabric rough against your sensitive clit, biting down on your lip in a pathetic attempt to silence yourself.

“Don’t,” Satoru warns, nipping at your inner thigh. “Our parents aren’t here yet, I want to hear you.” He says, unwrapping his arms around your thighs and hooking his long fingers beneath the elastic band of your shorts. You couldn’t help but huff, looking off to the side and your teeth not holding your lower lip anymore. You wouldn’t dare disobey him. “What if they decide to surprise us and arrive early?” You question anxiously, though not stopping as Satoru guides your legs up so he can tug your flimsy pair of shorts up the length of them. “Then they’ll see their son eating out their beloved daughter and enjoying every moment of it.” He states and you can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Step..” You hastily add, flustered. Though, you couldn’t deny that deep down the thought of being caught with him is so arousing and Satoru knows that. You’ve often gotten riled up by his filthy words about potentially getting caught. Satoru’s large hands grip your inner thighs to force them open and you drop your upper body back down to the bed, a hand coming to cover up your face and Satoru eagerly takes the pretty sight in. Your needy pussy coated in your juices already, giving it a light sheen beneath the bedroom light and looking even more enticing. “Fuck, you’re dripping so much. Even anxious, you won’t ever stop thinking of Daddy’s cock.” The white-haired male states, soft lips curling up to form a grin.

His humiliating words just go straight to your cunt, hands covering your flustered face. You could practically feel how wet you are just by shifting your body and Satoru wastes no more time. Arms back around your thighs to hold them in place, he dives forward to press a sloppy kiss to your slick-covered folds and dragging his long tongue through them, groaning happily as your sweetness already begins to fill his mouth. Tasting the juice always reminds him of the first time he got to taste his stepsister’s pussy and that he refused to turn back ever since. You belong to him now and he’ll eat you out any chance he can get. He’s a lover of it and always leaves you stunned because what kind of man loves to eat a girl out?

Gojo Satoru. That’s the kind of man. Beyond addicted to it as his tongue continues to hungrily lap up your slick and you whimper loudly, hands gripping onto the blanket beneath you as your body already trembles from the pleasure that surges through you, directly from your hot core. “D-Daddy..” You stutter out softly, impatience starting to form as Satoru continues to take his sweet time; just his tongue sliding up and down between your folds, not even touching where you truly want to feel his tongue. Satoru hums, already reading your mind, but doesn’t relent. No one tells him what to do, especially you… Well, when it comes to being between your legs. He’ll happily oblige for anything else.

Time seems to tick by, your taste permanent on his tongue and with one final swipe of his tongue, he finally pushes in a little further. Slick smearing on his cheeks as he buries in, your folds parting for him and he continues to just lick up your mess, though the tip of his tongue now teases your tight entrance, swirling around it. You moan out pleasantly, feeling the sweet daze coming over you and your hand comes down to weakly grip his white hair, pulling. “So fucking good..” Satoru murmurs, voice muffled thanks to being ‘busy’ with his mouth. His tongue teasingly glides up until it meets your throbbing clit and you gasp at the sudden sensation you feel, pulling further on his hair until his scalp aches.

His laugh is soft, pressing sloppy and needy kisses to your clit, eagerly making out with it as if it’s the last day on Earth. You used to be embarrassed by hearing the loud slurping sounds, as it meant you were making too much of a mess, but your stepbrother loved it. It’s a beautiful sound to his ears, aside from your voice. So, naturally, you’ve grown to love it, too. His tongue swirls gracefully around the sensitive nub, teeth occasionally grazing against it to coax more of your whines to leave your lips. You’re dripping so much that it’s already causing stains on the blanket, but you’re too blissed out to care at the moment, just so happy to have his mouth against your hot cunt. Satoru knows he’ll have to calm you down afterwards, though.

His large hands soothingly caress along your thighs that still quiver. You’ve always been sensitive to his touch and it sure does boost his ego and eagerness. Nails graze along the soft flesh and you’re whining as the tip of his tongue repeatedly flicks against your clit, your stomach already feeling hot and tight as the urge to climax grows.

You know that only Satoru has been able to make you come just from his mouth, previous partner would refuse anything sexual asides from blowjobs to benefit him. You briefly remember Satoru snorting obnoxiously when you told him in his bedroom back at the family home and wanting to show you how a lady should be touched. It was the morning after your first time with your stepbrother. The point was definitely proven and addiction grew on both sides.

“Daddy, please—“ You choke out between soft pants and the white-haired male’s tongue drags flat across your clit, looking up at you. “Hold it in.” He orders, voice loving yet rather menacing. A threat. He brings one of his hands down, two long fingers parting your folds as he drags his tongue between to break the strings of slick before his other hand shifts further down until one finger teasingly glides across your entrance and he coos as he watches it clench from the sudden touch.

Cheeks stained with your slick, he presses multiple kisses to your clit, lips wrapping around the sensitive nub to suck on as his finger slowly rubs against your hole before he presses the tip in and slowly pushes the digit in. You whimper as you feel the length of his finger slide in comfortably, velvety walls snug around it. Already, you just want to let go. Especially as he continues to suck on your clit and now the single finger slowly pumping inside of you. You can feel it drag along your inner walls, only to thrust back in, curling slightly to find that sweet spot.

Just as the second finger joins the first to finger you slow and deep, a jolt of pleasure shocks through you when they rub against the sweet spot inside of you and a string of moans just spills out of you, eyes rolling. It feels so fucking good. “Daddy, please... Just let me—“

“No, you’ll come when I say you can, baby.” He says so sweetly despite the harsh words, lips curl to form an open smile as his tongue slides out, saliva mixed with your juices dripping back down onto your cunt. You whine, tears in your eyes when he denies you and your body just feels so tingly and warm. So relaxed and like jelly as he continues to pump the index and middle finger inside of you. Satoru couldn’t get over how your walls squeezed so deliciously around his invading fingers— something he’ll never get used to, truly. It just leaves him excited to have you tonight once the whole ordeal is over.

His cock throbs in his sweats, but he does nothing about it. He did not try to grind against the edge of the bed or even bring his other hand down to relieve himself. This is all about you. His beloved stepsister, who happens to also be his lover. You’ve been uptight for weeks about tonight and he’s always eager to help you relax. Whether through bedroom activities or something else. Satoru presses a loving kiss, a final one to your clit before he scatters kisses, tongue dancing across your inner thighs. Your body is twitching, feeling so hot and desperate to just let go as his fingers continue to slide in and out with ease, thanks to your slick. They continue to abuse that sweet spot and leave you sobbing softly for your release, tears glued to your long lashes.

“Look at you, my pretty crybaby. Not from my cock either.” Satoru mocks lightly, though incredibly endeared by you. The tall male lifts himself until he’s hovering above you, leaning against his elbow at the side of your head. He grinds his long fingers into you and you look up at him, almost blinded by the tears in your eyes. He’s dragging this out for so long and you could barely think anything incoherent. Just drunk off of the pleasure and feeling so hot. “You want to come?” He asks tenderly and you notice how messy his face looks, the bottom half covered in your juices. It just sends a flush of neediness down to your cunt from how pretty he looks, the hair even looking so soft and fluffy. You couldn’t form words between your filthy moans so all you can do is nod, face twisting from the ecstasy you feel. Satoru grins a little, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your temple, his voice low and husky. “Go on, stepsister.”

His fingers pick up the pace and you can’t even express the light annoyance you usually feel from him calling that because it’s shameful how easily he can read you. It turns you on. The whole stepsibling thing is so taboo in society, but the pair of you not caring. Fuck, yeah it’s hot that your stepbrother is the best at eating you out and everything else. Hell, even riling you up. He just knows that you find it thrilling to go against the norm and aside from that; you deeply love him for more than that. He isn’t just your sibling that you’re not related to by blood. Not just some stepbrother you met during your teenage years and have to pretend he annoys you like siblings do. Not just some stepbrother you sit next to as ‘Clueless’ plays on the television screen for the last family movie night before moving out and your hand secretly holding his in the dark. Not just some stepbrother who promises your mother that he’ll take care of you in the big scary city. He’s your boyfriend and more. Soulmate, even.

You gasped sharply as his fingers thrust into you rapidly, gliding in and out so quickly. Your inner walls could barely cling onto his fingers, only squeezing around. The pads of his fingers rub against your sweet spot and you’re choking through your sobs of pleasure, arms wrapped around his bigger form to hold onto him, as if afraid you could sink into the mattress. “A-Ah, Daddy— Feels so— Nngh!” You cried out and you could feel it rapidly approaching. He shifts his fingers within you, rubbing the sweet spot still but now his wrist moves up and down rapidly and fuck, you know what he’s going to make your body do for him. “N-No, ah!!”

With a high-pitched cry of ecstasy, Satoru swiftly pulls his fingers out and you are gushing. Sprays of your juices spurt out from your throbbing cunt and your body trembles through the addicting high that continues to crash over you. Your mind is wiped clean and all you can do is hold onto him as your pussy squirts. Your nails dig harshly into his broad shoulders, forehead pressing against him and Satoru holds you through your orgasm, soft praises falling from his lips. His entire attention is on the heavenly sight of the mess you just made. Still making as the last spurts escape and he soaks it all in, not giving a damn that his arm is also dripping with your juices. You’re so going to murder him when reality hits you. He doesn’t care. He knows you like it deep down, even despite future scenarios giving you anxiety.

“Satoru…” You slur out in your sweet daze, your body still feeling so warm and jelly-like. The white-haired male smiles down at you, crystal blue eyes full of love. “Less anxious now?” He teases lightly. You know he cares about your well-being more than you do at times, even if he teases. You feel your walls clenching around nothing, clit throbbing and slowly coming down from the high. You slump against the bed with a content sigh, pulling him down against you and he obliges, eager to get some cuddling in.

Until you realise what’s happening and gasp in shock, pushing him up so you can sit upright, eyes wide in horror as if witnessing the scene of a crime. There’s a damp patch on the edge of the bed and even a mess on the carpet. “Satoru!” You whine, gripping hopelessly onto his shoulder. “We have to clean this up, they’re going to be here soon. Oh my god, why did you have to be— So hot.” You grumble, nudging against his shoulder. Satoru lets out a delighted laugh, slightly amused by your outburst and presses a kiss to your forehead, shifting himself until he’s standing. “Go take a shower, babe. I’ll clean everything up. Don’t worry and just truuuust me. Please?” He quickly adds, lips curling to form an innocent smile.

You easily melt because of his charms and stand up, only to stumble into him from your legs being so weak from the orgasm you just went through. His arms loosely wrap around your waist, gazing down at you as he smirks. “Not even with my cock, mind you.” He sighs and you can’t help but shake your head, lips twitching as you hold back your smile. His cockiness is attractive and you will not admit that to his face. You glance down towards his crotch at the mention of it, noticing how his cock seems to strain against his tracksuit pants. “I’ll take care of it.” Satoru says when he notices where you’re looking, though secretly wishing you would. You couldn’t help but pout, wishing you could just wrap your lips— or even your fingers and help him feel good. There’s no time. You manage to coax your legs into walking in the direction of the bathroom.

“Oh, by the way… Your high school crush is coming tonight, too.”

You pause in front of the bathroom door, hand on the doorknob and turn around to face the white-haired male, feigning an innocent smile. “What?” You ask and watch as Satoru shrugs, hands stuffed into his pockets. “Dear diary, Suguru said hi to me today when he came over to chill with Satoru. I swear I creamed my panties when he smiled at me. I like him soooooo much. Satoru’s best friend is so hot.” He dramatically whines with his voice shifting to a higher pitch and your jaw drops in shock; not from the fact that there’s an extra person coming tonight, but the fact that your stepbrother read your diary in secrecy back when you were both teenagers.

“Satoru, you read my diary!? I never said I creamed my panties!” You squeal with frustration, stumbling towards your boyfriend to repeatedly smack his firm chest, though no actual strength behind it. Not that any of your genuine strength could hurt the older male. Satoru finds himself grinning to the point of his cheeks hurting, laughing at seeing you become so flustered and gently holding onto your wrists, not stopping your punches. “Couldn’t help myself, was curious who my little sister was crushing on at the time— Maybe cause I wanted it to already be me, but sheesh. It was my best friend instead. That would have stroked his ego.” Satoru jokes, arms draping around you and begins to shuffle towards the bathroom.

You huff a little, curled fists against his chest as you look up at him. “Suguru is hot, I’m not going to deny that... Maybe I was already crushing on you deep down but didn’t want to admit it— Either way, why are you only telling me now that Suguru is coming? Now we have to be even more cautious! He may not be our parents, but he’s an extra person and Suguru is seriously… perceptive. We’re doomed, he’s going to find out.” You whine, slumping against Satoru, arms draping by your sides in defeat.

Satoru rolls his eyes and opens the door behind you, gently nudging you into the bathroom. “He’s not that perceptive, relax. Everything will be fine. No one will find out about our love, I promise. Evidence is currently in hiding and we’re not going to make out in front of them. We got this, Y/N. We’re a team.” He says, gently bumping his fist against your forehead and you couldn’t help but smile softly. He’s right. “A team… Okay, well— It will be nice to see Suguru. He’s hot, after all.” You state with a playful smirk before closing the bathroom door in Satoru’s face.

Jealousy briefly surges through Satoru, but he’s able to calm himself down before giving you what you want; him riled up. He just scoffs quietly. “Don’t forget who made you squirt with just his fingers! Enjoy your shower.” He shouts through the door as he hears the sound of water. With a playful shake of his head, Satoru looks down at his crotch as he turns around before the mess on the bed.

“…Cleaning can wait.”

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The gentle chime of the doorbell is heard through the small apartment and dread crashes over you. It’s time. Satoru is next to you, both of you standing just off to the side and out of sight of the peephole. Just in case one of your parents tries to eagerly look through. His hand rests on your waist, giving a gentle squeeze. His eyebrows are knit together to form a slight frown. He just had to help you calm down from crying out of fear and anxiety only an hour ago. “H-How’s my face?” You ask with a pitiful singular laugh as you look up at him. “The most beautiful I’ve ever seen. Are you ready? It’s just for a few hours.” Satoru says, knees bending a little so he can meet you face to face.

You inhale deeply, frantic heartbeats calming down at the sight of your boyfriend’s face. It’s cute when he looks all serious and concerned. You glance around you. “Everything is clean, even the mess from before. There’s nothing they can find, Y/N.” He reassures and the doorbell goes off again. Your mother has always been rather impatient. You smile towards him and nod, reaching for his hand to give a squeeze. You didn’t need to say you’re ready, Satoru can sense it. He presses a loving kiss to your lips. “I love you.” He reminds you and your heart flutters. “I love you, too.” You return softly.

Satoru pulls away, large hands dusting off his front. He’s wearing an outfit that you always want to rip off— Just a simple white shirt that isn’t buttoned up all the way and black slacks. You’re currently wearing one of his favourite dresses on you. You smooth out the creases before you walk ahead of him, taking one final deep breath and a glance at Satoru before you open the door with a wide smile.

Three people stand before you and the lady is already pulling you into a crushing hug. “Y/N, my daughter! I’ve missed you so much. Are you eating enough? School isn’t too stressful? Oh, I just can’t wait to see the place.” Your mother expresses excitedly, moving on to hug Satoru. It may be her stepson but you all get along like a close family. Not being blood-related never mattered. Satoru wraps an arm around her, guiding her inside. “Hey, Mum. Good to see you. Come in.” He says, laughing as you didn’t even get to answer her.

You turn to face your stepfather and smile wide. “Dad! It’s been too long.” You say as you give him a tight hug. He pushes up his glasses before smiling down at you. He’s tall, just like his son. “Your Mother has been quite eager for tonight, let me go calm her down.” He jokes as he enters the apartment to greet Satoru. You look towards the last person, heat rising to your cheeks when you briefly remember what Satoru mentioned before. Geto Suguru is smiling politely, reaching in to embrace you. You don’t have a crush on him anymore, but it doesn’t mean you’ll never be flustered by his beauty. “Hey, Y/N. I hope Satoru hasn’t been too troubling to live with.” Suguru jokes, voice smooth and calming. He’s always spoken rather gently. Especially with you and Satoru.

“He’s an absolute pain sometimes, but he takes care of me as brothers are supposed to.” You say and Satoru scoffs from hearing your words. “She can be a pain too, y’know— Suguru.” He says, pulling the dark-haired male into the typical bro hugs that guys do before actually hugging the male properly. You couldn’t help but smile, happy to see Satoru pleased to see his best friend after so long. You close the door behind you, checking to see everyone’s shoes are already off and neatly in a row in the entryway.

Before they can even pull apart, your mother is already inspecting the lounge area, smiling wide. “Well? Show us around!” She says, hands rubbing together. Your lips quiver from anxiety and Satoru’s hand clasps on your shoulder to give a squeeze. It’s the only way he can touch you in their eyes. Typical sibling touches. “Y/N has been a madwoman with all the cleaning today, wanted it all neat just for you, Mum.” He says and you jab your elbow against his side to play out the sibling retaliation. Your father chuckles as Satoru pretends the elbowing hurt, rubbing his side. “Some things never change, hm? Still brother and sister with some rivalry.” Your stepfather says, following your mother.

You just knew that your mother would want to see every inch of the apartment, though thankfully respectful enough to not open drawers, where evidence such as couple photos are hastily stuffed between clothing. “I must send some photos for you to hang up on the walls, they look so empty.” Your mother says, hand patting the empty hallway. Family photos… Could they pass off as you and Satoru just being a happy couple visiting one set of parents if friends in the city visit? “I think some paintings would also be nice, make us appear like we’re totally art snobs.” Satoru jokes as he opens the door to the guest bedroom— ‘His’ bedroom. The parents peek inside as they laugh at how silly their son is. Suguru thankfully isn’t too bothered to see the apartment compared to seeing his best friend it seems and so he only lingers about in the background.

It’s set up rather neatly to look like Satoru’s bedroom, though the bed appears like it’s slept in with creases and not properly tucked and the laundry basket is filled to the brim with his clothing and items scattered about— You were anxious about it appearing like he lives in it and definitely never sleeps in your room. Satoru is slumped against the wall, arms casually crossed as he watches them look around with excitement. “Satoru, you need to be a bit cleaner. What would you do if you brought a girl home.” Your stepfather jokes lightly and instantly, your heart squeezes with jealousy at the thought of your stepbrother with another woman. He swiftly glances towards you, having to bite back a small grin and shrugs. “Think my charm will be more than enough to make up for it.” He says, brushing against so casually to lead your parents away. Perhaps the excuse could be a tight hallway, but you know it’s him trying to reassure you.

You walk alongside Suguru, who is just shuffling behind your parents who now walk to the bathroom that isn’t attached to the master bedroom. You look up at him, he’s always been incredibly tall. Just like Satoru, except not as tall. He’s grown out his hair even longer than before, only half tied up in a bun. Suguru notices you looking and offers a smile. “You must have been stressed, Y/N. About tonight… Though, I can imagine it’s often chaotic when you just live with Satoru. Are you able to get sleep?” He jokes and the white-haired male overhears, playfully sending a glare and you giggle softly. “Some nights it’s impossible.” You sigh, knowing your stepbrother would pick up the implication and have his ego inflate.

The bathroom is just like ‘Satoru’s’ room, with items looking half used, rather than new and rubbish in the bin. No one uses the bathroom, since you both use the one in the master bedroom. You rub at your eyes, finding it a little exhausting that every inch must be checked, but that’s just parents when it comes to their children living away from them and just how beneficial it is that their children get along fine enough to share an apartment. ‘Ha’, you think. They’d be horrified with the truth. You enter the master bedroom behind them, anxious eyes double-checking that nothing is in sight. You hate it. You want your photos back up and cute couple items you’ve gotten together, like plushies from an arcade or hell, even your sex toys out without a care.

“It’s so nice of you to let Y/N have the bigger room, Satoru. Such a good big brother you are.” Your mother praises, patting him on the cheek before she looks around. His lips curl up to form a smug smile, shrugging. “Gotta take care of little sis.” He says, words dripping with playfulness that only you can pick up. He wraps an arm around Suguru’s shoulder to lead him back out since there isn’t else to see, eager to just catch up with his best friend. Your anxious heart starts to settle down. It’s just the other basic rooms now— dining, kitchen and a study. It seems like you’re both managing to pass the test. Then, only dinner and dessert will remain and they’ll be out of here, maybe around 10 o’clock and you can return to clinging onto Satoru. Knowing you… You’ll probably cry in relief and he’ll pat your head. You sigh quietly. Even just a head pat would be nice and will help you through the night.

Soon enough, your parents do seem satisfied with the apartment that you’ve both chosen to live in and are now settling into their seats at the dining table. Your stepfather at the head of the table, your mother next to him and you next to her. Satoru is across from you, Suguru by his side. Everyone is starting to sit down, chatting amongst themselves. “It’s a lovely little place you’ve chosen, it just needs to look more lived in. Like a home.” Your mother says and you smile, nodding. “We’ve both just been so busy but I guess we can find some things both of us like to decorate… Nothing inappropriate, of course. Right, Satoru?” You ask through clenched teeth as you smile towards him, desperate to keep up the sibling act.

He rolls his eyes and holds his hands up. “No girls in bikinis, I promise. I’m an adult, y’know.” He retaliates lightly and you laugh, rising from your seat. “Please tell me you two don’t bicker all day and do get along.” Your stepfather says lightheartedly, looking towards his wife. “We get along fine,” Satoru replies with ease and you’re internally grateful that he takes charge of the conversation because knowing yourself? You would have screwed up the very second they walked in. You leave the dining room just as your parents start to ask Suguru how he is doing and if he’s taking care of himself, looking behind your shoulder to see Satoru glance towards you with a certain glint in his eyes.

You sigh out softly, thankful to be alone for a moment as you begin to prepare the dinner plates. You decided on a simple roast, far too lazy to do any cooking… well, more like too stressed out. Even if you secretly crave a comforting and warm bowl of ramen. Hell, even just simple miso soup would be nice. You carefully stack the full plates onto the tray and turn around, gasping sharply as you nearly walk into a much taller body— Satoru. “You startled me.” You huff, walking past the white-haired male and he swiftly plucks two plates from the tray to lessen the weight, leaning down to whisper against your ear. “Sorry, babe. Just wanted to check on you.”

His warm breath tickles your ear and his words provide comfort to your heart. Satoru is willing to risk things for even the brief moments and you’re thankful. Even if you do nervously glance at the open doorway of the kitchen. You follow behind him to return to the dining room, smiling when you see your parents laughing along with Suguru. The dark-haired male always got along with your parents and they’d often joke about how Suguru keeps Satoru in line. You place the plates in front of your parents before yours on your placemat, setting the tray aside. “Please help yourself to some garlic bread— I know, I know. Usually goes with pasta and not a roast. I was craving it.” You laugh lightly as you sit back down, next to your mother.

“It looks lovely, dear. Did you do it all by yourself? I hope your brother helped you..” Your mother trails off, eyes narrowing in warning towards Satoru’s direction. You’ve already ripped a piece of garlic bread to nibble on, hiding your smile behind it as you look towards your secret lover who sits across from you. The white-haired male sits up straight, fork dramatically stabbing into a roasted carrot that he bites in half. “Actually, I was in charge of dessert and no, I didn’t just secretly buy it. I’ve been learning to bake.” He grumbles lightheartedly and you smile even further, biting on the bread.

You know the truth. Satoru has indeed been learning; ever since he discovered how much you loved pastries and anything sweet, he picked up the hobby. It was sweet, really. It’s funny how girls in high school claimed that Gojo Satoru would be an immature boyfriend to have and be someone so selfish; just because he’s a bit loud at times and enjoys goofing off from time to time. They never saw what you could see and even now, you get to happily live with your loving boyfriend who takes such good care of you. Your mother’s eyes widen at the news, cutting into her meal before taking small bites. “That’s an excellent hobby, Satoru. Hopefully, Y/N doesn’t inhale it. You have to be careful, Y/N and take care of yourself.” She warns lovingly and you sigh softly, nodding. You know she’s just saying it because she cares, but you’re internally grateful you don’t have to hear it anymore.

“I eat most of it.” Satoru lies with ease as he continues to eat. Suguru snorts lightly beside him, taking a sip of his glass of wine that was prepared earlier. “I can vision that.” The dark-haired male jokes, winking towards you. You snicker quietly, nibbling on the end of a potato that you cut into. Satoru tilts his chair sideways to shove against Suguru lightly and steal a sliced piece of meat off of his plate. “Less dessert for you, Suguru.” He chimes happily, shoving the meat into your mouth.

The five of you continue to peacefully eat as you talk, giving life updates. Whether about work or college. It seems Suguru is thinking of moving into the city and you couldn’t deny your heart being squeezed by your anxiety. It’s not that you don’t like Suguru. You adore him, really. It would just be so difficult to hide what you have with Satoru if someone from your past is here… Still, Satoru would be happy and that’s what you care about. As you cut into your last slice of meat, you accidentally drop your knife against your plate from hearing your mother’s words and your stepfather humming in agreement, eager to hear. “Satoru, have you been trying to find a nice girl to date? You’re in your late twenties now. I’m sure pretty ones just flock to you. You’re our handsome son, after all.” Your mother expresses sweetly, eager to hear some gossip.

Your hands feel clammy. Heart sinking into your stomach at just the mere thought of your… boyfriend finding another girl to date. It would be so much easier. You feel too uneasy, desperate to feel some sort of reassurance from your stepbrother. Your eyes focus heavily on him as your leg slides under the table to bump against his foot. Quietly and in complete secrecy, you shift your foot to caress along his ankle, eyes refusing to look away from him. He’s not looking your way at all, nor looking affected by your touch as he just laughs a bit too naturally at the words, shrugging. “I don’t know, I don’t feel any desperation to find a partner. If it happens, it happens. Don’t try to put pressure on me, Mum. I got a job to focus on.” He jokes, your foot creeping just a bit further up his leg, applying pressure to make him really feel it. You’re utterly oblivious to a different pair of eyes glancing towards you before Satoru as he speaks, all attention focused on your stepbrother.

“Like he could get a girl. His confidence might scare them.” You finally joke as well, feeling defeated that Satoru didn’t even look your way as you teased him under the table, moving your legs to tuck beneath the chair and your shoulders deflate. It was stupid of you to be so risky, Satoru was right to behave like that. Your stepfather chuckles, setting his cutlery down. “What about you, Y/N? Any nice person at university?” He asks gently and you feel the heat rise to your cheeks, now having Satoru’s fierce gaze snap towards you and you couldn’t deny how searing it feels. You squeeze your legs together under the table, hands sliding between them and shrugging. “Haven’t been looking, maybe 'cause I believe too strongly in destiny. Time will come.” You laugh sheepishly, leaning back into your chair.

Satoru’s gaze softens on you, briefly thinking of the time back at the old home when you secretly snuck into his bedroom for cuddling and the topic of destiny came up. He couldn’t help but eagerly agree. That’s what it feels like. What you have together is destiny. Satoru stands up as he begins to stack the plates. “I’ll go prepare dessert.” He says, surprised to see both Suguru and his father stand up to help with the dishes. “Let us help you out, son. Y/N, it was really delicious.” Your stepfather praises and Suguru smiles towards you. “Agreed, Satoru must feel lucky to eat his stepsister’s cooking.” He says smoothly and you smile shyly towards him. You shift to talk to your mother as the three men walk into the kitchen.

The white-haired male exhales out softly, setting the plates down near the sink. “Thanks, Dad. Suguru, you as well. You can go relax.” He reassures and Suguru gives a nonchalant shrug, opening the dishwasher. “Might as well lessen the burden.” He says and Satoru’s father nods with eagerness. “Agreed, let me help out.” Satoru’s father says and Satoru laughs, approaching one of the top drawers and opening it. “Not going to deny help, less work for me—“ He pauses, looking down into the drawer and instantly notices a particular kitchen item that should definitely be hidden— or even burned. He slams the drawer shut with a bang and leans against the counter, trying to appear as casual as possible with his toned arms crossing his chest. “Actually, Dad? You travelled quite far, you should go sit down. Suguru and I can do this.” Satoru says, words hastily escaping his lips. His father blinks innocently, oblivious to his son’s behaviour. Suguru is standing behind Satoru’s father, eyes shifting to the top drawer with interest.

“Are you sure? You know I don’t mind—“ Satoru’s father begins and the white-haired male lets out a fake laugh, slightly strained. “I’m sure, besides I need some— bro time with Suguru.” Satoru quickly adds, forcing a smile in his best friend’s direction. His father looks towards Suguru and Suguru smiles wide, eyes shaping into crescents. “Yeah, bro time. I hope that’s okay.” He adds politely and Satoru’s father chuckles, holding his hands up. “Alright, alright.” He says before shuffling out of the kitchen. Satoru sighs deeply, body only relaxing slightly. His hands are still gripping onto the countertop anxiously and he forces out another awkward laugh. “Bro time.. Right, thanks for helping me out with the dishwasher. So— what’s up? Any ladies you’ve been interested in?” Satoru tries to ask casually, his voice strained and his back still against the counter. How the hell is he going to deal with this with Suguru still in the kitchen?

There’s a mischievous glint in Suguru’s eyes as he looks towards the other male, leaning down to slide a plate into the dishwasher, stepping closer to Satoru as he keeps his voice quiet enough so he can’t be heard by the others outside of the kitchen. “Oh, I don’t know. I do think this one girl is interested in me. Might shoot my shot. She’s pretty cute.” Suguru says, tucking loose strands of hair behind his ear that escaped his tied-up bun. Satoru shows interest, eyebrow raising as he steps closer, though one hand still blocks the top drawer. “What? Who? Come on, tell me.” Satoru whispers with excitement, lips curling to form a grin.

“It’s your stepsister. See, just now—“ He pauses, watching the colour drain from his best friend’s face and smirking a little before he feigns a thoughtful expression. “At dinner, I felt someone caressing my leg for a minute or so. Very slow and teasing, y’know? It felt really good to be touched like that. It was Y/N. I could tell…” He trails off and Satoru leans back against the counter, jealousy bubbling up within him. His knuckles begin to turn white from how tight his grip is on the counter. “Yeah? Is that so? My own stepsister, huh?” He asks, his voice tight and even resentful. Suguru steps closer, resting against the counter next to Satoru and leans in, voice laced with playfulness. “Except, she wasn’t even looking at me. Her eyes were just locked on you, refusing to look away.” Suguru explains, hand cupping his chin as he rubs it in thought, noticing a nervous shift in Satoru. How fucking obvious. Satoru lets out a small laugh, avoiding eye contact.

Fuck. So maybe Suguru is perceptive. He’s doomed. Even if the jealousy simmers down, he’s still so fucked. “Maybe she was just shy and didn’t want to look your way..” He lies, though despising the mere idea of it. He must have had his legs tucked under the chair for that one moment and you mistook Suguru’s leg for his own— Fuck, you were also probably seeking reassurance, Satoru realises. He didn’t know. Suguru scoffs, moving to stand in front of Satoru, a hand clasping his best friend’s shoulder to give a squeeze, making sure his voice is still quiet, even soothing so Satoru knows he means no harm. “You and Y/N are secretly dating.”

Satoru’s large hands drag across his face as he hunches forward, forehead briefly resting against Suguru’s shoulder. Fuck. “Suguru, fuck— Listen, I know it’s wrong, okay? I know it’s fucked up. I can’t help it, alright? I’m in love with her, I don’t care if she’s my stepsister.” Satoru tries to explain, words just babbling out nervously as he leans back up to look at Suguru’s face, determination in his eyes. “I love her. She loves me. That’s why we ran away to live here, so we can be— y’know, free. Listen, Suguru… You can’t say anything, please.” He pleads a light tremble of fear in his voice.

Satoru is never scared. This is surprising to Suguru and he holds his hands up to show innocence. “I’m not going to say anything, relax. Your secret is safe with me. You know I only want you happy. Y/N, too. It’s not like you’re blood-related so as your best friend? Easy to look past the whole taboo. Sucks I can’t make my move, though.” Suguru jokes and Satoru glares at him. Suguru snorts. “Jokes, jokes. Relax. Don’t want to be murdered by my own best friend. Still, though. It was rather risky for Y/N to do that. The leg thing. I thought she would know better.” Suguru adds, returning to the dishes and Satoru’s shoulders hunch forward, body deflating with concern. “Was it around the time of me being asked about my dating life? She was probably anxious and just needed comfort... Just wish I could openly give it to her.”

The white-haired male twists his body to look down at the counter, crystal blue eyes shifting towards Suguru. “Don’t even react—“ Satoru threatens before opening the drawer. Instantly, Suguru is hovering to see inside. Directly in the middle of the clutter lays a wooden spoon, black writing across the curved surface of the spoon. ‘Y/N’s spanking spoon, spanked lovingly by Daddy Satoru.’ Little hearts are drawn around it and Suguru has to cover his mouth to muffle his amused snicker. Satoru elbows him before a hand comes up to grip his white hair, desperately trying to think of what to do with it. There’s always that slim chance of his stepmother opening the drawer. He wouldn’t put it past her. “I need to get rid of it,” Satoru says, reaching to grab it.

Suguru snatches it up to inspect it. “Wow, so this spanked your stepsister’s ass, huh? Daddy? Why do you keep it in the kitchen?” The dark-haired male teases and Satoru tries to snatch the wooden spoon up. “It’s a spoon! Since when were you such a brat, give it back.” Satoru huffs, only to raise an eyebrow when Suguru tucks the end into his pants and pulls his oversized sweater over it. “Can’t get rid of something so precious, hm? I’ll go hide it in her bedroom… Well, your bedroom, too. Can I stay over tonight? Just tell your parents that I’ll use the couch if they happen to ask.” Suguru suggests, lips forming a smug grin.

Satoru’s cheeks are flushed red with embarrassment but he pretends to not feel such an emotion and grins, gesturing for Suguru to go. “Thanks, go hide it. Yeah, you can stay… I’ll have to tell Y/N that you know about us. She’s going to be mortified when she realises how you figured it out. Maybe I’ll just fuck the mortification out of her.” He says, moving to the fridge to grab the plate that contains a cake. Just a simple sponge cake, covered in cream. Suguru scrunches his face up. “TMI, Satoru. I may not mind hearing Y/N’s sex life, but definitely not yours.” He teases before swiftly leaving the room to avoid Satoru’s retaliation. His hands are laced ever so casually behind his back as he enters the dining room.

You look towards him, raising an eyebrow as he begins to walk towards the exit. “Just going to quickly use the restroom, if you don’t mind Y/N?” He asks and you nod eagerly, smiling. “Go for it.” You say before turning back to talk to your parents, answering their eager questions about the university. Satoru on the other hand, leans his arms against the fridge for a moment, gazing blankly at the cake. He’s so relieved. Truthfully speaking, Satoru always wished just one other person knew of his secret love affair with you. Someone who also knows that you’re both stepsiblings who happened to grow up with each other during their teenage years. Even further relieved that it’s Suguru, his best friend. Thankful to not be judged or criticised. Just accepted. If Suguru had rejected it, Satoru would have thrown him out of the apartment and refused his parents’ questions. He’s not afraid to admit to himself that he’d choose you over anyone else. If it meant packing up and moving elsewhere for good, he’d do that, too. Where no one could reach. Anything to be with the one he loves.

Heart and mind now feeling at ease, Satoru grabs the plate that holds the cake and carries it into the dining room, dessert plates already set in the middle of the table. You perk up at the sight of Satoru, though try to play it off as if it’s the cake that catches your interest instead. “Oh my! That looks delicious, Satoru!” Your mother praises as Satoru sets it down, grabbing the knife as he neatly begins to cut even slices to dish out, smirking a little. “Naturally, I’m good at everything.” He says lightheartedly and you press your lips together to prevent a smile from appearing. Anyone else would find his cockiness to be obnoxious and yet, it’s just one of the many things you love. Hell, your stepbrother has taught you to be more confident in yourself. You help with the plates, setting them in front of your parents.

Suguru happens to arrive just in time, gripping Satoru’s shoulder to give a reassuring squeeze. The white-haired male relaxes. The ‘spoon job’ is done. Everyone is settled down now and you refuse to even try to touch Satoru under the table, just focusing on taking small bites of the sweet cake. You can’t prevent the soft moan from escaping as you lick the cream off of your lips. Your parents are oblivious to such sounds, but Satoru is looking right at you, fingers tightening around his fork. Suguru has to cover his amused smile, pretending to wipe his mouth.

“Y/N, I hope it’s okay that I stay over tonight? Satoru has already agreed.” Suguru says gently and your heart sinks a little. You like Suguru. Obviously. If it was during high school, you would be running to your room to squeal and jump with joy. Now though… you were hoping to be able to unwind and be free with Satoru. To have all stress gone and to cling to your tall lover. Now you’ll have to keep the act up. You force a polite smile, nodding. “That’s completely okay, Suguru. I’ll set up the couch for you when Mum and Dad leave for the night.”

Your parents gush about the lovely idea for Satoru to have even more time with his best friend, finishing the slice of cake before they relax in the chair. Everyone is finished and not wanting to bother with the mess later, you stand up to collect the last set of dishes. Satoru shifts to move and you hold your hand up. “Don’t worry, I can do it.” You reassure, allowing Satoru some time with your shared parents before they’ll be leaving soon. You love them, really. You just feel exhausted. Hopefully, with time, it will become easier to hide things to the point that it won’t feel like an act. You doubt it. With one arm managing to balance the plates, you use your free hand to grab the leftover cake.

You enter the kitchen to start hastily stacking the plates into the dishwasher, along with the cutlery. You eventually turn it on for a normal wash before you begin to clean the kitchen; wiping over the benches and putting items away back into their original spot. Finally, you slide the cake onto the bottom shelf and close the door. You look towards the time on the microwave and relief washes over you. It’s past 10 o’clock. The dinner seemed to go relatively fast, thankfully.

You return to the dining room to witness everyone starting to stand up and feign disappointment. “Oh no, is it that time? It went too quickly.” You whine, lips naturally pouting. Satoru’s gaze momentarily softens when he looks at you, knowing that you’re relieved; even if you do love family. You follow them through to the lounge and then towards the exit of the apartment. Suguru decides to stay back to give the four of you space. You could hear your mother rambling, not taking in anything she was saying. No offence to her, of course. You’re just a bit tired. There are quick kisses to cheeks and your stepfather is expressing for your mother to hurry up because he doesn’t want to stay up for too long. With final embraces and shoes on, both you and Satoru wave goodbye before closing the door.

You slump against the back of it for a moment, eyes wide and blank as you think back over everything. Every conversation. The tour through the apartment. Your limited affection with Satoru. Nothing… seems to be obvious. The night was a success and even tears of relief glued to your lashes. Satoru’s hand gently rubs your back soothingly, tall body leaning over you as he whispers. “It’s all over, baby. You can relax now—“

You absolutely cannot. Quickly, you move away from his touch and glance nervously towards the lounge room where Suguru is lingering. “Satoru, you know that’s a lie. Keep the act up.” You insist gently, prying his large hand off your shoulder as you move towards the lounge room, lips forcing a polite smile. Satoru follows behind you, trying not to show his amusement. “Right, let me prepare the couch.” You say, turning towards the hallway.

“Actually, Y/N. I think I might use the guestroom if that’s okay. Just so you don’t have to deal with such troubles.” Suguru says lightly and you find yourself frozen on the spot. “You— You mean Satoru’s room? You want to sleep next to Satoru?” You ask, voice straining and laced with jealousy. Only you’re allowed to sleep next to your stepbrother. “No, I mean the guestroom. I assume Satoru will want to sleep with you since you’re both dating.” Suguru finally explains, biting back his laugh that threatens to escape.

Dread crashes down over you and you twist around to face the pair of tall males and Satoru is already laughing, a hand pressing against his toned stomach. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I had to wait until our parents were gone—“ The white-haired male begins to explain through a soft chuckle. He feels guilty for laughing at your shock, but he knows that you’ll find the situation to be funny later on. Satoru is quick to wrap you up in his arms, pulling you against his firm body. He isn’t scared to shower you with affection, even if Suguru just discovered the ultimate secret. Suguru smiles slightly, rubbing the back of his neck and you’re just completely baffled, automatically leaning into your boyfriend. “Did you tell him—?” You ask timidly, fingers curling into the front of Satoru’s button-up shirt.

They both shake their heads. “It was my leg that you were touching… Honestly, I was flattered at first, and won’t deny such thoughts. I looked at you, but you were looking at Satoru and refusing to look away. I just put two and two together.” Suguru explains as gently as he can, not wanting you to feel embarrassed. Too bad you’re instantly flooded with the emotion and bury your face into Satoru’s chest, voice muffled. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry… That’s so embarrassing, I-I just... I just gave us away so easily, Satoru.”

Satoru brings a hand up to stroke the back of your hair, ruffling it up a little. “It’s fine, love. Honestly, I’m glad that Suguru knows and just accepted us. You can just be yourself in front of him now, hm?” Satoru says gently, voice deep and soft. Still, you smack his chest lightly as you pull away, pouting. “You always have your legs out under the table, why did you change!” You whine, lips starting to curl as Satoru barks with laughter, head tilting. “We both have long legs and take turns. It’s been like that since school.”

You sigh heavily, pulling yourself out of Satoru’s arms, although already missing the comfort. One of his hands lingers against your waist. Your face feels hot as you look towards Suguru, who as always, smiles towards you. “I’m so sorry that I touched you like that.” You apologise, voice somewhat small. Suguru gives a light shrug, holding his hands up to show he holds no grudges. “You’re fine. I would say I enjoyed it but your boyfriend would cut my head off.” He says rather slyly as he looks towards Satoru.

Already, Satoru’s lips are pressing together and eyebrows creasing in concern as he tugs you back towards him to wrap his arms possessively around you from behind. Butterflies form in your stomach as your hands gently grip his arm that’s wrapped around your neck, giggling softly. “You may be my best friend, but no way. She’s all mine. I’ll fuck her in front of you if I need to.” Satoru bluntly states and you choke on your saliva from the childishness, though desperately trying to ignore how the butterflies seem to flutter wildly before being burnt up by the fire ignited within you. His possessiveness is so hot. “S-Satoru!” You squeak, bumping into his taller form that continues to cling to you.

Suguru pulls a face at the boldness, though curiosity appears in his gaze that lands on you. It was fleeting before he looked towards his best friend instead. “What are you, some alpha?” Suguru snorts, palm rubbing against his eye. Satoru grins, almost like the Cheshire cat as he rocks side to side, chin resting on top of your head. “Might want to wear earplugs tonight, Suguru. You might hear my beloved stepsister cry out from my fat knot.” He retaliates and your hand briefly covers your face, feeling so hot and flushed. It’s almost embarrassing but, his filthy words always arouse you with such ease. You feel your panties becoming damp under your dress. You really want to go to the bedroom now. Too many hours spent stressing and you just really….

You fake a yawn, nuzzling back into Satoru, still wrapped up in his possessive yet rather loving embrace. He feels so warm. “Very funny, yes— Anyways, I think it’s time we all hit the hay…” You trail off, glancing nervously towards Suguru in hopes of him not seeing right through you. He does, but he’s a nice guy. He smiles warmly, grabbing his backpack that he left by the edge of the couch. “I agree, I’m so thankful I won’t have to hear Satoru’s snores at least. Am I able to use the bathroom to freshen up?” He asks and Satoru is too distracted by you to even be offended by the light insult. His hot gaze is only on you. He could see through the lie from the second you faked a yawn and uttered the first word. “Yeah, go for it. I guess we’ll see you in the morning, Suguru… Thanks, by the way. For accepting our secret.” Satoru murmurs, long fingers gently combing through your hair.

Suguru simply nods. “That’s what friends are for, goodnight. Enjoy your sleep.” He says, emphasising the last word before he walks down the hallway. You turn around to look up at Satoru, his crystal blue eyes meeting yours.

You’re both thinking the same thing. -------------------------------------------------------------------

Finally, in the comfort of the bedroom that you share with your boyfriend; aka stepbrother, you sigh out in relief, already reaching to unzip your dress. Your soft fingertips meet a set of other fingertips that seem far too eager to unzip. Your tiers curl into a fond smile, bunching your hair up to let it be out of the way as Satoru begins to glide the zipper down, taller body leaning down so his lips can press lovingly against your bare shoulder. He’s trailing kisses gently up towards your neck, warm breath fanning across your smooth skin. “I’m so proud of you, baby girl. You did so well tonight. I know it must have been tough.” Satoru whispers, voice sounding raspy. He needs you. Badly.

His praise easily melts you, shimmying out of your dress until it pools around your bare feet. Satoru knows that you’re an absolute sucker for praise and that you often try to chase the wonderful feeling of making him proud. You behave so well for him, no matter the situation and so, Satoru finds himself always proud of you. Still, you’re emotional from having to deal with something so stressful and tears begin to pool, make-up already smearing cause of it. You love your parents, you do. It’s just obvious they can’t know and you hate it so much. You hate that you have to hide your love for your stepbrother.

Satoru isn’t an idiot. Even with your back to him, he can tell that you’re starting to cry and honestly, he’s not surprised. You’ve been so tense for weeks. Ever since it was announced by your parents. You wouldn’t ever relax unless he coaxed you into it or lovingly distracted you. His smile is soft, firm hands on your bare shoulders to move you until you’re facing him. “D-Don’t look at me, I’m getting all gross.” You whine, hand pitifully trying to cover up the fact that black lines from mascara are gliding down your cheeks, mixed with your tears. Small hiccups escape as you try so hard to hide.

“Y/N.” He laughs, completely endeared as his large hands come up to tenderly cup your cheeks, thumbs rubbing at the wet make-up, not caring that he’s smearing it further. “Firstly, I’ve seen you cry so many times since we were teens. Not a new sight for me. Secondly, you’ll always be beautiful and take my breath away every single time.” His voice falls into a whisper, unable to stop himself from leaning down to capture your lips with his own, kissing you with passion. You gasp against his lips and he pours all of his love into the one kiss, hands refusing to part from your cheeks as his lips move slow and hungrily against your own. Your fingers curl into his shirt that’s already half unbuttoned, desperate to pull him flush against you as you return the kiss, your tiers moving in sync with his own.

Neither of you part, becoming so breathless and yet refusing to be the first to pull away. His taller body is leaning into you as he continues to kiss you with loving eagerness. His tongue glides across your lower lip and you happily oblige, parting your lips to allow him to take further control as his wet muscle dominates your mouth. Every passionate kiss will always remind you of your first kiss with Satoru. He rubs his tongue against your own before sliding across every inch of your mouth, eager to claim. He can still taste the sweetness of cream lingering and it causes him to groan softly.

Satoru, addicted to kissing you; found it so difficult to pull away. He presses multiple kisses to your saliva-coated lips before he leans back to exhale air. His crystal blue eyes are clouded with complete desire and you look up at him, eyes full of mutual feeling. He couldn’t help but chuckle softly from your cheeks stained with your make-up, though noticing you’re not crying anymore. He’s thankful for that, even if usually the sight of your tears causes a raging hard-on. “Y/N..” Satoru mumbles, hands caressing along your bare sides and admiring your choice of lingerie. Soft pink lace. He realises it’s hard to have a favourite colour on you when you make every colour seem so perfect.

“Go relax on the bed, I’ll be with you in a moment,” Satoru says, pulling away. Instantly, your hand latches onto the back of his shirt, looking up at him with wide eyes. You don’t want him to go for even a second, that’s how clingy you can get and it’s an absolute weakness of his. “Where are you going, Daddy? I want— I want to touch you. Make you feel good, it’s my turn now.” You insist, briefly thinking about when he was between your legs several hours ago. Satoru’s heart squeezes, easily melting from your cuteness and plants a quick kiss on your cheek. “Just listen to Daddy.” Satoru says, prying your hand off of him as he playfully rolls his eyes. “I’m trying to take care of you, you’ll see.” He finishes.

You pout a little, absolutely hating to be away from your stepbrother, but you can’t resist obeying. Especially since he’d easily put you in your place. Even when he’s feeling sweet and wants to make love. You carefully step out of your dress, grabbing it to rest it on the chair at your dressing table. Not wanting to waste time after you noticed he left to go to the bathroom, you climb onto the king-size bed and crawl to the middle, flopping down. Wait— What is that? You feel something solid beneath you and move to tug the blankets down, eyes widening in shock when you see the spanking spoon hiding beneath the covers and take hold of it, face feeling flushed. “Oh— So that’s where he put it.”

You turn around to look at Satoru who is snickering with amusement, a damp cloth in his hand. “He? You don’t mean…” You trail off, suddenly remembering. Suguru asked to use the bathroom before and oh my god, that means he’s seen this. Satoru’s knees rest against the edge of the mattress, reaching forward to take hold of it with his free hand, smirking from witnessing your shocked expression. “We did well with hiding evidence, Y/N. We just forgot the one small thing.” He says, deliberately dragging the round end of the spoon across your thigh, patting it a few times and you’re whimpering softly, muscles tensing up and hands coming down between your thighs.

Satoru is delighted by your reaction. He knows you tend to enjoy pain by his hands, though you both know the difference between pain for fun or punishment. Context matters, after all. Even if you enjoy a good spanking, you hate to be punished because it means you need to be corrected. The spoon is usually used for the latter. He leans forward to press a kiss to your temple, setting the wooden spoon on his bedside table before he tenderly cups your cheek, bringing the damp cloth up to your face and starting to gently wipe the smeared make-up off. “My good girl, I don’t think tonight calls for pain. Even the fun kind. I just want to make love to you.” He hums softly and you smile softly towards him. “I’ll still rile you up, just saying.” You whisper, fingers playfully walking up his toned thigh, approaching his crotch. He looks down at your hand, gulping quietly.

“Every time we do something is making love, in my eyes. Rough or soft. Loving or mean.” You express, hand reaching the area to cup, giving a light squeeze and your palm starts to rub against it. His breath hitches, managing to wipe the last of the mess from your face and smiles knowingly. “Can’t deny that you’re right, beloved stepsister.” He purrs softly, setting the damp cloth down next to the spoon. Even so, Satoru rather craves to just take time and be gentle tonight since you’ve been stressed. Remind you that everything is okay and it’s all over. Does his fingers twitch occasionally with the urge to be rough? Sure. He’s no idiot and knows he enjoys how pretty you look, and how sweet you sound when it is like that, but you’re just as pretty when it’s not played like that. Just always pretty.

He raises an eyebrow when your hand presses against his firm chest and he follows the pressure until he’s lying down on his back, head against the pillows. “You really love to mention the whole step-sibling thing, don’t you?” You laugh, not particularly denying that you enjoy hearing it. His lips curl to form a playful smile, broad shoulders shrugging as his hand comes up, finger slipping beneath the bra strap. “What can I say, taboo turns us both on. Besides, you know I love you beyond that.” He says, voice sounding rather distracted as his crystal blue eyes refuse to look away from your hands.

With the hint that he gave from tugging on your bra strap, you couldn’t help but giggle softly. He’s so obvious. An impatient man who wants the underwear off so he can properly ‘admire’ you as he regularly tells you. You remember your teenage years when you often wondered if Satoru was a ‘boob man’ or an ‘ass man’. You got your answer on day one when you both first fooled around; he loves both equally. A first for a male, in your opinion. You always heard teenage boys obnoxiously state their preferences, but at age 18 and Satoru hitting 20, you realised just how different your stepbrother is. He appreciates the body as a whole and when it comes to you? You often tease him for being a simp with how he worships you and he doesn’t care. Simply because you’re just as much a simp as he is when it comes to worshipping him in return.

Your hands swiftly unclasp your bra, though slowing down as you pull the straps until both arms are out. Satoru’s stare is hot and heavy, fingers twitching against the blankets. You offer a sweet smile before finally discarding the underwear to reveal your breasts rather confidently. You used to be so timid, but Satoru has taught you to love yourself more. He groans, hands coming up to dramatically drag across his face until his mouth is covered and he’s not looking at just your hands anymore, but your breasts. So soft and pretty looking. Even your nipples seem to already harden from being exposed. “Fuck, I’m so lucky. Suguru must be fuming.” He jokes, prompting you to swat at his chest and laugh.

“Stoooop, Suguru doesn’t see what you see.” You say as you gracefully shift yourself until you’re straddling his lap, not wasting time to teasingly rub your ass against his crotch, feigning innocence as you just act out trying to get into a comfortable position by wiggling. Satoru couldn’t even tell you the truth that Suguru expressed interest in you, far too distracted by the friction of the clothing rubbing against his already hardening cock and the pleasant pressure that is your weight. Satoru just lays there, allowing you to do as you please for the moment; feels so good to have you on his lap after all. He manages to exhale a sigh. It sounds strained. “What if Suguru did see you that way?” He asks breathlessly as your hips continue to roll in small circles, body fluid and graceful. Your hands come down to unbutton the rest of his shirt, noticing the spike of jealousy within the white-haired male. You start to feel giddy again.

“He’s handsome, I had a crush well before you.” You begin and Satoru rolls his eyes and looks off to the side, large hands cupping your bare thighs to give a rough squeeze. A warning. He loves the guy. It’s just that you belong to him and no one is ever going to take you away from him. You grin, utterly endeared by the jealousy and lean down as your hands spread the open shirt, your breasts pressing directly against his naked chest, a hand caressing soothingly along his side. “But I’m not interested in him anymore. My eyes only see Daddy. You’re so hot when you get all jealous.” You whisper, lips hovering over his.

Fuck, he can feel your soft, squishy breasts pressing against him and he only wants more. His strong arms wrap around your waist to keep you flushed against him, nose rubbing against yours. “Prove it to Daddy. Show Daddy how much you love him, stepsis.” He whispers in return and your lips already hungrily press against his, muffling your whines. You waste no time, eager for more and so your lips begin to travel towards his jawline, nipping at the flesh. You’ve been uptight for far too long and finally get to let it all out and relax with your lover, Satoru. Some may think it’s crazy to call passionate sex as relaxing but honestly, that’s what it feels like to you. It can be both thrilling and calm. Calm in the sense that you can just let go and feel good, especially afterwards. Satoru, your amazing partner (stepbrother) may have eaten you out this morning and even made you squirt, but you still felt a bit too stressed cause tonight wasn’t over. Thank goodness it is now.

“Gon’ mark you, Daddy. Can do that now. Girls at work will know to back off— Boys, too.” You grumble lightly, tongue sliding out to teasingly dance across his warm skin and Satoru laughs breathlessly, his hands reaching down to cup your ass cheeks and give a rough squeeze. “Possessive little thing.” He coos, breath hitching as you bite down on the side of his neck to suck harshly and you couldn’t help but moan happily, so delighted to be able to mark him up now. You pull away momentarily to admire the dark purplish bruise that formed, pressing an innocent kiss to it before you move in to form another. And another.

His neck is scattered the various hickeys, also varying in different shades depending on how harshly you went. His cock is throbbing beneath you, pleased by the aching pain he felt during the process. His large hands continue to fondle your ass, squeezing hard to the point of feeling your supple flesh filling up the gaps of his long fingers and it entices him to the point of spanking your ass roughly. You yelp from the jolt of pain that soon forms into a nice tingly feeling in your ass and he gives another spank, nails dragging across the flesh. “Thought you weren’t going to be rough, Daddy.” You tease, wet tongue trailing saliva down his chest. “Your ass is impossible to resist. Your needy cries, too.” He breathes out softly, stopping you from going any further down by tightening his grip.

“Stay still, baby.” He whispers against the top of your head, voice heavy with lust. You lay against him, not daring to disobey anything he commands. You love to please him. As you nuzzle against his hickey-covered neck, you whimper from each hard smack that lands on your ass, feeling the spanks alternate from cheek to cheek. Smack! Your body jerks up against his body as he lands a hard spank, causing you to sob out quietly. The stinging pain feels so good, causing you to crave more. Smack! Harder this time. “Were you really trying to touch me under the table tonight? Maybe you’re just a bit of a slut who wanted to get a reaction out of Suguru. Such a naughty girl.” He teases and you frantically shake your head, hands clinging onto his broad shoulders and breasts squishing against his chest once more. He knows that’s not the case. You’re just so cute to tease and naturally, you’re just so naughty that humiliation drives you further. More eager. He doesn’t relent with the hard smacks until you’re sniffling against his neck and his hand feels far too numb, unable to feel a thing.

“Mm, good girl. That’s enough, I promise.” He says, hands giving your now throbbing ass cheeks a soothing squeeze. You pull away with a small huff and lips naturally pouting, eyes appearing wet. “Can I please just touch you now?” You plead, wanting to focus on him from the beginning. Satoru grins wide, eyes lighting up with excitement as his arms rise until his hands rest ever so casually behind his head. “I can’t resist touching your gorgeous body— smacking it, too.” He pauses, looking at you. Is he too sadistic? He couldn’t help but question. The question is swiftly answered by a reassuring kiss on his lips. You’re masochistic and so you both make a great pair. “Touch me, baby.” Satoru whines out dramatically, snapping you back to reality.

You bite back a smile from how cute he can be, leaning down to press loving kisses along his well-defined abdomen, tongue dragging along the toned lines, nails grazing along his sides. Satoru’s lips latch onto his lower lip as he watches you, crystal blue eyes darkening as he enjoys the slow yet steady show. You’re able to wiggle down now, his hands not stopping you and you pull up for a moment, hovering as eager hands unzip his black slacks and you hook your fingers beneath both the pants and underwear. “Let’s get the annoying stuff out of the way first, shall we?” You hum and Satoru happily obliges by lifting his hips.

With three rough tugs, you drag the clothing down his long legs until you could toss them to the floor, jaw dropping slightly at the beautiful sight of his now free and throbbing cock springing out of the confinements and slapping against his own lower stomach. Never. Never will you get used to the glorious sight of it. So long, curved and has just the right amount of thickness that leaves you for craving it. The pretty protruding veins from the base, up towards the bulbous tip, red and eager for a hand— or mouth. You smile a little, pleased to see it twitch before you. Satoru inhales deeply, half-lidded eyes focusing on you, rather than his cock. You love his cock. A blunt thought to have, but you do. “Babe..” He warns quietly.

You snap back out of your cock thirsty fantasies and drop your body down between his legs, laying comfortably. Satoru was right about buying an oversized bed, it makes the fun hassle-free. “Daddy, you’re so pretty..” You whine, leaning forward to nuzzle your face lovingly against his cock and already, one of his hands behind his head comes around to drag across his face, wondering how he’ll be able to control himself as you take your time enjoying him. Each praise you give to him; whether about his dick or his personality, always inflates his confidence and self-love. He’s peeking between two of his fingers, watching as you continue your loving nuzzle with ‘innocent’ kisses being pressed to his throbbing length.

You smile up at him, long lashes fluttering as you hold your hand out just beneath your chin, keeping your gaze on your stepbrother as your tongue slides you and you allow the drool to slowly seep out of your mouth and drip from your tongue. The saliva pools in your palm and Satoru groans in sexual frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re such a slut.” He says lovingly, breath hitching when your fingers finally curl around the thick base of his cock and begin to stroke slowly. Your saliva isn’t the ‘best’ lubricant in the world, but it’s enough to keep your hand from feeling too rough as you slide your hand up and down, wrist twisting with each pump.

“I just love it so much, Daddy. So warm and heavy in my hand. All mine to play with.” You purr, tongue dragging along the length of his cock where your fingertips couldn’t quite meet. You find yourself resting your head against his thigh, eyes focused entirely on his cock as it throbs in your hold as you continue to stroke his length with just so much love. It’s nice to just lay there and admire. Even if his thigh quivers slightly beneath your head and his stomach muscles tense up, trying his hardest to not rush you. How cute. You occasionally dribble out and spit onto your hand to continue with the slow strokes of your hand, enjoying the weight of his heavy cock, thumb rubbing the tip every time your hand slides upwards. You smile from hearing his heavy breathing and voice hitching every so often as your hand squeezes the thickness.

You notice pre-cum starting to bead at the bulbous tip and so you lean forward, hand wet with your saliva sliding down to fondle with his balls, giving a tender squeeze. “Fucking hell, Y/N…” He moans out, long fingers dragging through his white hair to grip on. You mewl softly in response, always loving how your stepbrother curses with your name. It always sounds so sweet. The flat of your tongue presses against the underside at the base before you slowly drag upwards, tracing along one of his veins and tasting the saltiness. Your eyes met his just as you brushed the wet muscle along the tip and moaned in sync with his low ones as you tasted the pre-cum.

“You’re so delicious, wan’ taste you every day.” You express your wish as your tongue playfully swirls around the head of his cock, one hand soothingly stroking his toned thigh as the other continues to fondle and squeeze his balls with just so much love for the older male. “I’ll make you taste me every day, even if it means choking you with my dick, princess.” He sighs heavily, enjoying the slick velvety feeling of your tongue sliding around the leaking tip of his length. You hum in response, his harsh words only fueling your actions and drenching your panties further. You do always feel like some omega in heat around your stepbrother. Unaware of it, you roll your hips against the bed, focusing entirely on Satoru and making him feel good. Nails scrape along his thigh as your hand trails up towards his abdomen, eager to feel him.

It was several minutes of just your tongue swirling and lapping up the pre-cum and you finally wrap your soft lips around the head and suck gently, cheeks hollowing as you begin to bob your mouth nice and slow along the first two inches or so, just savouring the taste of him and length weighing down against your tongue, twitching in your mouth. Your soft moans send vibrations along his lengths and Satoru’s hips buck upwards, causing your mouth to take just a bit extra. To prevent yourself from choking, you keep your jaw slack, bobbing your mouth steadily now, eyes refusing to look away as the white-haired male’s face scrunches up; brows furrowing and lips parting as he grunts out your name.

Your mouth feels good. Too good, even. So warm and wet, inner cheeks rubbing along the sides of his length as your tongue caresses the underside. He notices drool seeping out from the corners of your lips and a breathless laugh escapes. His hand coming to stroke along the top of your head, voice low. “So damn cute, stepsis. Drooling and looking so depraved.” He says as he teasingly pulls on your hair until your scalp aches and you whimper softly. With your jaw relaxed you take more of his delicious length into your mouth to savour on, swallowing around it to tighten your mouth and prompt him to grunt, hips bucking slightly once more from the pleasant tightness of your mouth.

Satoru, being the greedy guy that he is; cups the side of your head, close enough for his fingers to lace together behind your head. You sense what’s to come, knowing your stepbrother very well and whine softly, eyes closing tightly. Instantly, he grinds his cock into your mouth, forcing you to take more and more until your lips are stretched right around the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat. Your loud gags are muffled as his hips thrust roughly, his hands moving your head with ease to meet each movement of his hips, forcing you to take it all.

You’ll never deny the fact that you love him taking complete control and fucking your mouth as he pleases. Slow and deep. Fast and rough. All of it. You’ll take it all cause you’re just as greedy as him. Perfect for each other. His throbbing cock slides down your throat and you swallow helplessly to try and contain yourself from choking too much. You have to rely on breathing heavily through your nose, but even that feels near impossible when he presses on the back of your head firmly so your face is pressed into his lower stomach, nose buried against a neatly shaved area. Saliva smears across your face as he continues to move your head as he pleases, head tilting back as he groans out happily, addicted to the pleasure that surges through him from having your mouth around his cock, nice and snug.

“So— fucking good.” Satoru pants out as your lips drag along his saliva-coated length. He can hear you breathing frantically through your nose and so being the sadistic stepbrother that he is; Satoru yanks your head back down along his cock, leaning up so he can hug your head properly, locking you in place. Your hands weakly grip the blankets, throat tightening around his thickness that pulsates and you try to breathe, but you can’t. Satoru is lovingly suffocating you. Choking you with his length stuffed down your throat and arms embracing your head against him so you can’t move. It sends excitement right down to your core, whimpers muffled as you simply stay there, your head starting to feel light. Satoru is delighted and wrapped up in the pleasure.

“Aw, look at you. My baby sis choking on my cock and enjoying every bit of it. Such a whore for me, aren’t you? Only for me.” He pants heavily, eyes half-lidded as he looks down at the top of your head. His long legs are bending so he’s able to properly hold onto you, feeling your throat muscles hopelessly constrict around his length. Tears burn and nails claw at the blankets, feeling your head starting to pound from the lack of oxygen. Snot threatens to smear on Satoru as you pitifully try to breathe through your nose that’s pressed too tightly against him and it only makes him laugh, endeared by you struggling so desperately. The urge to climax reaches quickly, his stomach clenching and feeling so hot.

Finally, he lets go, fingers wrapping around your hair to guide your head back, lips dragging along his cock until there’s an audible pop, a sharp gasp following afterwards as you’re desperate for air. You feel all woozy and high for a moment as oxygen rushes back to your brain, your heart hammering hard in your chest. Satoru smirks, only being further aroused from how fucked out you already seem to be just from a bit of face-fucking and… well, choking, too. You cough a little, unable to stop the dry-heaving; Satory is relentless when it comes to blowjobs and you thrive off of it. Multiple strings of saliva attach your swollen lips to his cock, breaking when you pull back further and whine, voice raspy. “I lo- agh.. I love your— cock, so much, Daddy.” You manage to splutter out between deep breaths.

Satoru coos, only being reminded of how deeply he loves you, his stepsister. His hands tenderly cup your warm cheeks to pull you in between his legs, feeling your hands resting against his chest. “And I love you on my cock, so much. Whatever hole, I love your holes. I love you.” He whispers, pressing multiple kisses to your lips, deliberately lingering with each kiss despite you still trying to inhale deeply. A little struggle is so cute. His cock still throbs, leaking with pre-cum and your hand travels down between your bodies to wrap your fingers around once more to stroke, biting back a small grin.

“I love you, too.” You sigh happily, watching the way his brows furrow in concentration as your hand strokes so slowly. You both tend to confess your feelings to one another multiple times a day. Never annoying. It’s just like breathing. It feels normal. “Daddy took such good care of me for the past few weeks, especially today. So…” You trail off quietly, letting go of his cock and playfully smearing the saliva across his chiselled abs. It might have just been an excuse to touch them. Satoru slowly lowers himself until he’s lying back down, his heart racing with excitement. He hopes it is what he thinks it is.

You move until you’re sitting comfortably against his cock once more, angling yourself so your slick-covered folds spread across the underside of his length, one hand coming down to tease the bulbous tip as you grind slowly, sliding your dripping cunt along his throbbing erection and he hides his sounds of pleasure by laughing breathlessly. “Don’t wanna use one of my many monstrous-sized condoms?” He asks, voice dripping with playfulness. You haven’t used condoms since basically day two of being together, you went on the pill after the first night of making love. Never missing a day of it. Naturally, the pile of condoms stay like that; as a pile of condoms. Completely forgotten.

“Your stepsis loves being pumped full of her Daddy’s delicious cum.” You tease, noticing the way his eyes glaze over from mentioning the relationship you both keep buried. Both of you are so sinful and some would say have no morals. Neither of you cares. It’s fun to play around with the taboo. It’s even better that Satoru has such a huge Daddy kink. He loves being both for you. As well as your loving boyfriend. “Ah— Is your cock twitching from the reminder of what we are? You’re so naughty.” You mewl sweetly, your clit throbbing from the contact as it rubs along Satoru’s cock, sending tiny jolts of pleasure through your body.

His large hands grip onto your hips, teeth clenching. Satoru is getting impatient, even if it’s so cute seeing you grind against his cock like some bitch in heat. “Babe—“ He grunts out and you only smile, hands spread across his firm pecs as you grind, sliding from the base to the very tip. Finally, you decide to give him what he really wants; what you both want. One hand takes hold of his cock at the base, moving yourself until the leaking tip presses against your entrance.

You begin to lower yourself, breath hitching when the tip of his length pushes past the entrance of your tight hole. “Let me take care of you, Da-ah~.” Your words break apart as a needy moan escapes, sinking further. Your tight walls are forced to stretch right around the thickness of his cock as you continue to sink, face scrunching up as you whimper from the pain mixed with pleasure. It feels so good to be stretched out by his pretty cock. So long and thick, twitching inside of you. Out of instinct, you squeeze around his length and Satoru groans out from finally feeling your absolute tightness around his length. It feels so fucking good to him; to have his cock buried deep in your needy cunt, the warm velvety walls clinging onto him.

You don’t stop until you’re filled up and your ass meets his thighs beneath you. It was a bit of a struggle since he didn’t usually prepare you like usual— You were desperate to just have him inside of you, besides he already spoiled you this morning with his fingers and tongue. There was just a bit of a delay. You pant heavily, hands light on his abdomen as you try to get used to the feeling of being stretched out, always feeling like your beloved stepbrother stretches you out beyond what your pussy is made to take and yet, you always manage. You’re made for him. “Fucking tight..” He breathes out heavily, hand soothingly stroking your thigh.

“My perfect girl, looking so pretty when you’re stuffed with your stepbrother’s cock. Look at you— Always bulging, thanks to me.” He purrs out, the other hand coming up to brush against your lower stomach, teasingly pressing against it where the end of his length is able to make you bulge out slightly and you whimper from the pressure being applied, nails clawing into his warm flesh. “Daddy~.” You mewl softly, lips threatening to drool out saliva as you couldn’t even focus on keeping any part of yourself together. The painful ache of your walls seems to slowly subside, though lingering and you begin to roll your hips.

Your aroused juices just drip out, making a mess across your thighs and his. Not that either of you care. The mess just enhances the excitement. Your eyes are clouded with pleasure mixed with complete love for the white-haired male beneath you and for a moment, neither of you look away from each other; eyes locked. You rock back and forth, inner walls clinging onto his cock as you move, just for a few of the inches. You moan out happily, eagerly taking the pleasure that washes over you with each grind of your hips. “So pretty, so so pretty..” Satoru whispers, one hand gliding up until he cups one of your breasts to give a playful squeeze, coaxing a spill of needy whines out of you. He pinches the hardened bud, twisting it and you cry out, always being so sensitive to any touch he blesses you with.

He grins, eyes wide and alive as he watches you with deep fascination and feeling even more aroused as you begin to bounce. It’s slow and steady, hard enough for skin to slap against skin and leave the flesh tingling. Your breasts follow your bouncing as you move, your velvety walls squishing around his cock and both leaving you breathless for two different reasons. Your walls just squeeze so tightly and drag along every inch of his length. You swear you’re so tight that you can even feel the protruding veins that run along his cock. Thank god for no condom, you couldn’t help but think; thrilled to have him bare inside of you.

“So— Big!” You cry out, lifting yourself up to feel his thickness drag along your walls before you drop yourself back down, trembling from the pleasure that constantly wraps around you as you bounce on his cock. Your feet are flat against the mattress as you move, so desperate to slide up until only his tip is inside of you and then slam back down until he forcefully stretches you out. Your sounds of pleasure only increase in volume, with cute yelps and needy moans leaving your lips. Satoru is in absolute heaven to be able to witness the sight of you bouncing on his cock, hand occasionally slapping your tits to encourage you to go further, panting heavily. Your inner walls, no matter how aroused and wet you are; continue to cling so tightly around his length as you fuck yourself onto his erection.

His brows are furrowed in concentration as he focuses on the pleasure that surges through him, leaving his toes curling and panting heavily as his mouth hangs open. “So fucking good for me, baby. Fuck— You look so hot, feel so hot.” He groans, your wet cunt especially feeling warm as it clenches around him. His hands land on your hips to give a harsh squeeze and you whimper, tears in your eyes. It all just feels like too much already but in a good way. A way that you never want it to stop, you just want to grind your hips and ride his cock like the addicted whore you are for his length.

There’s a manic glint in those crystal blue eyes and Satoru slams his hips up, forcing his throbbing length in until balls deep and you scream out his name in ecstasy, hands weakly pressing against his chest. “A-Ah, ‘Toru! Daddy, feels so—“ Your words are cut off by your sob as he starts jackhammering into your tight pussy, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the air and obnoxious squelches from how wet you are. You didn’t care— Couldn’t care for anything asides from how you’re made for your beloved stepbrother and his cock hammering inside of you. His eyes focus on your dripping cunt, watching with deep fascination as his length rapidly appears and disappears.

The ecstasy continues to surge through you in pulses, each time his length slams up into your tightness, your stomach bulging a little from how deep his long cock goes. He’s taken control entirely and all you can do is sit there— hovering as his fierce grip holds you in place and thighs shaking. Tears spill down your cheeks as you continue to sob out for him. “Daddy! Daddy, ah— fuck!” You wail out happily, eyes rolling upwards as you stare at the ceiling. Your mind feels completely wiped, all thanks to his length that drills into your tightness, cock dripping with your juices and Satoru just feels delirious from it all, especially as your inner walls flutter around his length and clench. He’s grunting with each snap of his hips, nails digging into your hips.

Both of you feel it rapidly approaching as he keeps up the pace. Your breasts even start to ache from the constant bouncing. Blindly, your hands find his to desperately hold onto and ground yourself, gazing down at him with eyes completely clouded over. “You’re so beautiful, baby. All mine, too. Got it? No one will take you away from— fuck, me.” He groans, voice low and breathless. You nod eagerly to his words, tightening your fingers on his hands. “Pl-Please, I wan’ cum, please, Daddy. It feels so— nnn..” You choke on a needy sob, face scrunching up.

You appear so utterly fucked and Satoru finds it beautiful, wishing he could burn the image of your face when you’re stuffed full of his cock into his mind. He tugs you down by your hands until your body is pressed flushed against his own, letting go of your hands to hug around your waist and trapping you against him. “I’m going to come inside of you~. Even if you don’t want it, you won’t stop me.” He purrs against your ear and you whimper softly. You want him to pump you full every time. He pulls his hips back until only the tip is in, lips brushing against your jawline. “Let go, stepsis.” Satoru whispers before he slams back into your tight core, groaning as he can never get used to your soft squishy walls clinging onto his cock.

You cry out from the sudden rough thrust and he continues. Thrust, after thrust. The final one, his cock sliding into you and you completely let go as he told you to. Your body trembles hard against his own, face scrunching up and your eyes closing tightly despite the tears of pleasure they spill and you bite down hard on his shoulder to try and muffle the sounds. His long fingers wrap around your hair to tug back gently, pulling your mouth off of him. “Don’t silen— fuck..” He grunts out as your walls repeatedly squeeze around him and his orgasm rapidly approached until he’s coming inside of you, his cock throbbing hard as strings of sticky white cum pumps inside of you. Satoru has always had a large amount to spill and so you feel so full as he spills it all inside of you, barely moving his cock. He’s panting heavily as your filthy cries continue to escape your swollen lips, clinging onto his body so desperately as if you’re afraid you’ll fall if you don’t.

The high is beyond everything else, like usual when it’s with Satoru. All you can see are stars. Mind blank and lips parted, your clit pulsing through the orgasm. Your body still trembles and despite feeling his own perfect high from the love-making, Satoru’s hand soothingly rubs along your back, head refusing to leave the pillow. “Ah…” You exhale out, finally feeling your body calming down. Eventually, you start to giggle softly, elated from just having sex with your stepbrother. Satoru smiles faintly, amused by the giggles and keeps his strong arms wrapped around you.

“What are you so giggly about?” He asks, voice raspy. You shake your head and snuggle against the side of his neck, refusing to move. “Just got a good reward, that’s all.” You joke lightly and Satoru snorts, knowing full well that he would have been intimate with you - whether tonight went right or wrong. “My good girl.” He praises sweetly, voice laced with playfulness. You tilt your head to look up at him, eyes full of complete love. He shifts his head a little, crystal blue eyes meeting yours. Your hand comes up to brush strands of white hair out of his eyes.

“I refuse to pull out, by the way. Give me some cock-warming.” He demands lightly, lips naturally pouting. You grin a little and press a kiss to his lips. Multiple times. “You know how much I love to cock-warm you, stepbrother.” You purr, resting back against him. Satoru couldn’t deny it. It feels good, having his cock just surrounded by this lovely warmth and slick-covered walls clinging onto him. He knows he’ll have to pull out eventually so you both can clean up but… just for a bit, he’ll enjoy this. Satoru loves it when you lay on top of him, your weight against him offering him comfort.

“I love you, Y/N. I really am proud of you. I know it was stressful and it probably looked like it didn’t faze me at all, but it did. I’m relieved we both got through it all.” Satoru says, thumbs gently caressing your bare back. You smile softly. Of course, he was stressed out, too. Satoru just kept himself together through the stress so that you could rely on him. Your stepbrother… really is so wonderful. Best step-sibling you could ask for and especially the best lover. “I love you, too. Proud of you, too. You know that, right? Always proud.” You respond, nuzzling into him. There’s a brief pause between you both before you remember something. “I hope Suguru couldn’t hear us..” You mumble, cheeks feeling hot.

“I doubt he could hear me, but he definitely heard you. You’re fucking loud, babe.” He jokes and you gasp, lightly smacking his shoulder. “I am not!” You whine and Satoru only chuckles, tightening his hold. “You are, but you’re my loud girl. All mine.” He huffs, biting your bare shoulder. You roll your eyes playfully, but smile and rest your head against his shoulder once more.

Whatever.

You’re happy to be loud when it comes to your stepbrother.

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hier--soir · 1 year

Text

a lover's pinch | three

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: joel gets a little birthday surprise, and you get a little too drunk. warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, pining, f!masturbation [barely], sending nudes, joel finally locks his office door, dirty talk, the slightest slip of possessive language, uh.. ahem.. biting, protected piv birthday sex, a messy dinner party, excessive alcohol consumption [i'm talking embarassing], irritating men, soft!joel. word count: 10.3k series masterlist | main masterlist a lover's pinch playlist a/n: let the pining commence folks. hey siri, play brown eyed girl by van morrison. special thanks to @bageldaddy for the emotional support as i endured the labour that was the final hour of editing this. hope you guys enjoy! this is part three of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two.

Thursday.

A fortnight passes in the slow blink of a bleary eye.

Fall nudges Summer out the door, solidifying its presence in Maine with flaxen leaves and rolling grey clouds.

The rain comes at night. Rivulets of moisture that leak onto the windowsill, seep into the cracked wood there and fill your room with the sweet smell of petrichor. It clears before the sun rises most days, but you unpack of a box of sweaters and hang them in your closet, nonetheless. You enjoy communal coffees in the kitchen and try not to frown when the morning light doesn’t warm your legs the way it used to. Force yourself not to feel mournful when you get home one afternoon and find Pete on the sofa with a blanket over him.

And perhaps that’s why when you wake on Thursday to sunshine—to warm bed sheets, to blue sky, to bright whites and yellows coming through the window—you feel lighter. Start the day with a calm countenance that has you blinking sleep from your eyes and smiling drowsily as your fingers trail the windowsill and come off dry. You share a pot of coffee with Pete; let him explain soil vapour extraction to you for the fifth time. Listen, smile, nod, and don’t roll your eyes when he asks do you get it now? And when the time comes to get ready for the drive to campus, you are smiling. Shoulders loose, eyes bright.

It had been a tiresome couple of weeks.

As the middle of the semester drew closer, you’d spent days on end poring over a laptop with tired eyes and cramping fingers. Writing and editing—and then rewriting and re-editing—your first round of essays and analyses. Balmy afternoons spent nursing glasses of cheap wine with your roommates evolved to late night coffees alone in your room, eyelids drooping as you fawned over every word, every quote, every fucking comma – all of it for him.

Him who you hadn’t been alone with in almost fifteen days.

Him whose texts were seared into your memory, left unanswered on your phone.

Him who you could hardly look at during lectures, for fear of losing your train of thought.

Him who you were hellbent on impressing.

Joel, Joel, Joel.

And as busy as you’d been, it hadn’t stopped the stares. Brief, intimate glances from down the hall in the history commons. The flash of a knowing smile as you shuffle toward the exit after a lecture. The graze of fingertips against your elbow, muddling your mind as you rush to meet a text translation study group.

Watching, waiting, wanting – a near insufferable task since that afternoon in his office.

Late into the first week you’d discovered that, upon focusing hard enough, you could still feel the ache in your knees; the rug burns his carpet had left on your skin. And then you shoved the memory of it down; compressed it somewhere deep inside, hidden away until you had the chance to open it back up again, and take your time with him like you truly wanted to.

And it seems today was that day.

You stare out the window for a moment. Sip your coffee and rake in the greenness of the grass, the cloudless sky, the ray of sun shining across your bedroom floor – and decide you’ll wear a skirt to Joel’s seminar.

The pin on his shirt is blue.

Not cerulean, or baby, or steel.

Not like how the sky was blue as you drove to campus with your windows down. Not like clear turquoise waters on a white sand beach in Greece, or like a robin’s egg swathed in leaves and sticks. But a deep, rich colour. Royal blue. A folded circular pin, with two tassels coming out the bottom of it.

It’s the first thing you notice when you walk into the lecture hall – the thing your eyes snag on repeatedly as you wander towards the third row and tuck yourself into a seat. That vivid splash of blue against a plain white t-shirt. No buttons today; formal wear forgone in place of a simple tee that hugs the vast planes of his chest, snug against the thick span of his biceps. His arms are almost enough to distract you from the gaudy brooch.

Joel won’t stop moving at the foot of the room, pacing the same length of floor over and over again, waiting for the crowd to settle. Hands busy themselves at his waist, wiping a small square of cloth against the lenses of his glasses. A muscle in his forearm twitches with every swipe of fingers against glass, and the sight has a hazy flush rising in your neck. Despite yourself, you try in earnest to catch a glimpse of what the pin says. Bare thighs tensed in your seat as you tilt your torso forward, eyes squinting.

The last students wander in, and he’s shifting, sliding those glasses onto the bridge of his nose, and snatching the slide clicker from the desk. He offers a polite greeting to the room.

It doesn’t take long for someone to speak up. “Special occasion?”

Joel’s hands still, chin tilting down as he glances at royal blue and then back out at the group, a wry smile breaking across his face.

“Just a thing the faculty does here,” he clears his throat awkwardly, laughs a little. It’s a soft sound, his laugh. Tickles your ears and makes you want to smile in return. “Some of the others started it a few years back… they make everyone wear one on their birthday.”

A chorus of surprised well-wishes chime from around the room, and Joel waves them away with a broad palm, shaking his head.

Even from three rows back you can see the pink in his cheeks; the resistance in his eyes as he intercepts the kind words soaring in his direction. You recognise a shyness there, an unwillingness to be the centre of attention, and it surprises you. Joel always seems so confident, standing week after week in front of 30 odd people and talking for hours. But you suppose then he can hide behind his words; behind years of knowledge and study and practice. When it’s about him? He falters. Tries to hide. You almost want to curse at him for being so endearing. And maybe you would – if it wasn’t his birthday.

“Nah, none of that,” Joel tuts, shaking his head. “Let’s get started, alright?”

He claps his hands once, and the sound reverberates through the quietening room. The fabric of his pants clings to the meat of his thighs, tightening around muscle as he rests against the edge of the desk. You fight to keep your gaze on his face.

“Today we’re gonna start with talkin’ about the instigators in our parallel texts.”

And you try to listen, you really do.

Try to focus on his words as he talks, spouting thoughts about antagonists of war, about Helen and Menelaus, about Paris of Troy, but you can’t get past the spread of his thighs against the desk. The way his body moves when he finally rises, wandering to-and-fro across the space. How his thick thumb presses against the clicker in his hand, slides shifting on the wall behind him. There’s a dull ringing in your ears, the rough spell of his drawl vibrating inside your mind, spinning it’s yarn, and tangling itself in the space where rational thought normally resides. Birthday. It’s Joel’s birthday. Your hands clasp in front of your face, knuckle snagged between teeth, biting down, clinging to some far reach of clarity; something to bring you back to the ground and halt the dallied trance you seem to come under whenever he’s nearby.

Birthday, birthday, birthday.

As he discusses the Judgement of Paris, your mind wanders to a teacher you had as a child. A stern woman in her sixties who was fearsome among the gang of six-year old’s you roamed in. One year it had rained on your birthday, a spitting storm of hail and thunder. And when you cried, she told you that it only rains on your birthday when you’ve been a bad little girl.

It was sunny the next year, but she wasn’t your teacher anymore, and there was no one around to praise you for how good you must’ve been that year. For how hard you must’ve strived to achieve such wonderful sunshine on your special day.

A wry smile splits your face, tucked into the back of your hand, for you know better than anyone else just how bad Joel has been. And yet today, for his birthday, the sun shines.

He steps closer to the front row of seats, and your eyes glean across the lettering on his pin; the words Birthday Boy laid out in gold. A huff of laughter escapes you, and then your eyes are drifting up, past tan skin and scruffy facial hair, to find Joel staring straight at you. Dark, intrigued eyes. Assessing you, undressing you. Frowning.

“Somethin’ to add?” he clips.

The smile slides off your face. “Sorry?”

“Do you have somethin’ to add?” he drawls, unimpressed. The words slow and paced out as if he were speaking to a fool. “You seemed amused.”

“Oh,” you blink.

You shift awkwardly in your seat, straighten up, aware of every set of eyes in the room on the two of you. Joel’s face is stony, unimpressed. It’s the first time he’s made direct eye contact with you since you stepped into the room, and he is… on edge, clearly.

“No,” you decide on the safe answer, tone firm. “Nothing to add.”

He stares for a moment and then nods. Mutters a stern Pay attention underneath his breath before returning his gaze to the rest of the room. You scoff quietly, and swallow down the stab of embarrassment his words bring. The feeling is sour in your mouth, like the seed of a lemon is stuck behind your teeth.

Two seats to your left you hear a poorly concealed titter. Turn your head to spot a woman, maybe a year or two younger than yourself, giving you a pitiful smirk. You arch an eyebrow. Mouth what?

She simply shakes her head at you and turns to look at Joel, all glossy lips and doting gaze as she listens to his continued ponderings about Menelaus' role in the Trojan War.

You watch her for a moment. Note the way she laughs at his jokes, smiles as he goes off on a mindless tangent about something you aren’t paying attention to; hanging onto his every word. And you wonder if this is how you look to other people when you watch him. Another stark-raving Maenad, thirsting and possessed by the spirit of this Bacchant of a man. The Roaring One. The one with bedroom eyes and cheeks like wine. Joel Miller; fraught, brooding, and willing to embarrass you in front of a room of your peers to feel an inch of the self-control you've so easily ridden him of. A Dionysian fit to oppose the doomed Bacchant inside of you, whose mouth foams and eyes roll in ecstasy at the mere presence of him.

He crosses the front of the room, back and forth, and you imagine him as a bull of a man. Golden locks and thorned head, thyrsus in hand as he commands the attention of an enthralled audience. Corrals them to follow him, to adore him. And yet the image you create is distorted at best, a watered-down version of the truth, for what spites you the most is that he simply… doesn’t have to try. There are no attempts to convince; no persuasion in his voice, no dishonesty necessary as the room swoons for him. As you yourself yearn for him. Covet his touch, his body, akin to that of a God’s.

And perhaps there is some immorality there, some gross misalignment of hubris, that yearns to reset the scale. To remind this man that indeed you have knelt before him, but he knelt for you first.

The thought has your thighs pressing together.

“Well, Juno hates Aeneas because she hates Trojans. And for that we have Paris to blame,” he answers someone’s question with a chuckle. Gains a few scattered laughs in response. “Because we all know how Juno feels about Paris.”

You rise from your chair, legs shifting before your brain can catch up. Take careful, tip-toed steps towards the exit. Joel’s eyes drift in your direction, curious gaze draping over the bare skin of your legs as he talks. Just for a second though, a split second, before he’s looking determinedly back to the room, and you’re disappearing from his line of sight.

“And so, she thwarts the Trojans every chance she gets,” his voice grows softer as you stray farther from the door, until it’s nothing more than a vague purr down the hall. You wander into the women’s bathroom and slip inside an empty cubicle.

Birthday, birthday, pay attention, birthday, they make everyone wear one on their birthday, pay attention.

Your brain is abuzz, nerves alight as you place your phone carefully atop the toilet paper dispenser. Trembling fingers graze the hem of your skirt, the warm skin of your thighs, and yes you’ve been wet since you saw him. Turned on from just the sight of him, the sound of his mellow voice, the idea that maybe, just maybe, today you will get to touch him again. You can feel how it clings to your panties, sweet soft warmth pooling out of you, a dizzying wetness that longs for Joel to come and find you. To take you in his hands, tilt you down to his parted lips, and drink it from the source.

Your fingers are cold against your skin. A delighted shiver swims down your spine as you graze them along the front of your underwear. Barely touching, hardly any pressure, simply grazing over the spot where your clit has begun to pulse. A little firmer now, you press against the thin material of your underwear, let it slip between your soaked folds. You bite your lip to contain a soft sigh, and smile as you feel how wet the material is getting. Once you’re satisfied you pull your hand away, leave a shimmering streak against your leg where you wipe your fingers, and reach for your phone.

Position one foot on the closed seat and rest your back against the cubicle wall, angling the phone between your spread thighs. Tilting your phone this way and that until the camera catches you in the perfect light; the flared material of your skirt bunched around your hips, the shiny smear across your inner thigh, the damp stain of slick against the front of your light blue panties. You take a few pictures. Trail your hand down your stomach and let it appear in some of them as well; fingers poised over the band of your underwear, just a tease. Finally content, you tuck your phone away, splash some cold water on your neck, and wander back into the lecture theatre.

Joel looks up when you walk inside. He’s seated behind his desk now, the room quiet as people jot down notes, eyes flitting between their laptops and the presentation displayed across the wall. Furrowed eyebrows and brown eyes shining with that barely-contained interest they always seem to hold when he looks at you these days. You offer him a nonchalant smile before turning your back to him. Sway your hips with exaggerated emphasis as you waltz up the stairs, slide back into your seat, and take your phone back out.

No one’s watching you now. Not your fellow Maenad, with her sharp judgemental eyes. Not even Joel. Your fingers dance their way into your text thread with him, and you select your favourite from the pictures.

You glance at the two lone messages in the thread, gaze lingering on the second message.

That can’t happen again.

Hesitation grips you, fingers hovering over the screen as you contemplate the seriousness behind the words. And then you hear him answer someone’s question, and the rough drone of his voice has you pressing send anyway.

Happy Birthday Professor x

You imagine you can feel the vibration of his phone. Feel it groan and shift in the pocket of his pants, screen lighting up. You wonder if he’s saved your name in his phone, or if a picture of underneath your skirt just popped up from an unsaved number. You try to focus on the article laid out in front of you. Stare at the messy under linings, at the notes on the margins made in your chicken-scratch handwriting, and wait.

It doesn’t take long to feel the heat of his gaze, almost paranormal in its effect. You can feel it’s weight – how it glides across your skin, sticky, viscous, and impossible to ignore.

When you glance up, you have to resist the urge to shrink into your seat. Joel’s face is a mess of emotions. Square jaw clenched tight; lips sealed. Stormy eyes that dart furiously between you and his lap, where you imagine his phone rests. Previously neat curls are now tousled and stressed over. You watch he glares downward, and drags tight fingers through the locks again. He doesn’t look up for a long time after that. Shoulders hunched forward, chin to his chest as he stares down.

Joel doesn’t stand up for the last 90-minutes of the seminar. Doesn’t smile, doesn’t joke. And he certainly does not look in your direction again. Not until the little hand on the clock strikes 11 o’clock, marking the end of his seminar, does he even entertain your side of the room. And not until the last student files out the door do you rise and meet him by the desk, a knowing look in both of your eyes.

You walk ahead of him the entire way to his office. Joel keeps an all-too casual distance from you, but you can hear the weight of his steps against the hardwood floors. Can feel his looming presence over your shoulder – sense his bursting need to get you alone. You only fall into step beside him when the office door comes into view, and then he’s herding you towards it, palm pressing flat against the small of your back in trivial, insistent shoves.

With a final glance over his shoulder, Joel nudges you inside his office.

There’s music playing inside. Soft waves of sound undulating toward you from the record player, and yet when he drags the door shut behind him you still hear the undeniable click of his key turning the lock. The window is closed, curtains half-drawn, and the air in his space is warm; almost stuffy from lying dormant and empty for hours.

Silently, Joel makes his way across the room to where his record player sits. Your eyes trail him faithfully, trained on how his shoulder blades shift like tectonic plates beneath the thinning fabric of his shirt. The urge to wander forward and pull it off him is intense. To run your nails down his skin and leave marks on his body the way he’s done to you.

“You think you’re funny?” his voice comes, a low murmur that you almost miss through the music. He lifts a hand and pulls the glasses off his nose. Tucks them carefully onto the table.

“Funny?” you reply, mouth suddenly dry.

Joel shifts the needle, restarting the record. Momentary silence swells into a bright intro, and he’s turning to look at you, thick arms folding across his chest. Your heart is a galloping staccato behind your sternum. A bead of sweat glides from the hollow of your throat down your chest, dampening the fabric of your shirt.

“Sendin’ me that picture of your pussy all wet for me,” he tuts softly. “Knowin’ damn well, I couldn’t do anythin’ about it.”

You swallow as he takes a step towards you. His hands drift to the front of his body, and you watch with bated breath as long fingers begin working at the silver buckle on his belt.

“Y’gimme nothin’ for weeks, don’t even pay attention during my fuckin’ classes, and then…” he pauses, almost glaring at you. But it’s not contempt in his eyes. No, it’s something else, something deeper—black brown peppered with frustration and lust and… There’s a lump in your throat. Something heavy that presses against your windpipe and makes it hard to swallow.

“You get off on this, hmm?” he asks, voice gravelly. “Torturin’ me? Makin’ me wait?”

“I’ve been busy,” you murmur, eyes fixed on where he drags leather through the beltloops of his pants. He discards it on the ground between you – an offering, an invitation.

“Busy girl,” he murmurs dryly. “And what about now? Now that I’ve got you here all alone… you gonna make me beg for it?”

Your pussy clenches at the thought of him on his knees, palms clasped in his lap, and it has that slick heat pooling between your legs. You want to denigrate him the way you feel he has done to you. Order him to kneel, to apologise, to fucking beseech you. But Joel’s eyes are dark, face drawn as he watches you. And you know that you’ve already gotten even.

Royal blue swims in your vision and you give him your best smile. Shake your head and say, “Not today, birthday boy.”

Something glints in his eyes, hands twitching by his sides. You mirror him, finally inching forward a step across the carpet. His belt is solid beneath your shoes.

He’s shifting in an instant, swallowing the final stretch of distance between you until his chest knocks into yours. The breath rushes from your lungs at the contact, and his hands are clasping your face, mouth slipping against yours in a brutal collision.

It’s rough, messy, teeth knocking and chapped lips. It’s the first time you’ve kissed since that night at the bar, and it consumes the both of you.

Joel’s body seizes yours, wraps around you and holds you to him, gripping the skin of your arms, your neck, your face, anywhere he can reach. Saliva pools in your mouth and wells into his, low sounds of desire being swapped back and forth between dripping tongues. There’s something desperate about it – how his lips bruise against yours. Something earnest and needy and urgent in the way his thumbs dig into your jaw, fingers tangling in the hair around your ears.

You’re gasping into his mouth, hands dropping to undo his zipper in a frenzied hurry. You can feel him behind the material, a firm bulge that becomes more and more evident as you work to get him undressed. His hands drop to your waist, your ass, and he’s pressing up, up, up the hem of your skirt, nails digging into skin as he squeezes and pulls you flush against him. Broad palms splayed across searing flesh, the tips of his fingers dragging dangerously close to where you’re aching for him. Your fingers shift from his pants to your own shirt, gripping the hem to tear it over your head—but Joel stops you. Bats your hands away and hoists you off the ground instead.

“Shit,” you huff in surprise, holding his shoulders for support as his arms tighten like a vice beneath your thighs and around your waist. He cuts you off with another sweltering kiss, and he’s moving. Stumbling blindly backward, a blurred mess of two people, all harsh exhales and clashing teeth, tilting back, back, back until his calves hit the armchair and he’s dissolving into it, dragging you down with him. Your knees sink into the plush fabric on either side of his waist, and his hands are on you, bunching your skirt up around your hips until your underwear is visible. He breaks the kiss and looks down quickly, lip curling upward as he takes in the sight of your barely covered cunt hovering over his lap.

“Fuck me,” Joel breaths. He cants his hips upward, clothed cock grinding against you. The pressure on your clit is exquisite. It has your nose scrunching up as your shallow breaths flutter the curls across his forehead. “Dress like this for all your classes?” he asks, fingers snapping at the band of your panties before his hand drops to cup your entire sex. “Fuckin’ filthy girl.”

“No,” you gasp as his palm settles over you. “Only—oh fuck, no, no, only yours.”

A rough sound escapes him, and he’s pushing the material of your underwear to the side. Thick fingers glide over the coarse hair on your mound, dipping in between your folds, right to the beating centre of you. You stare at his face while he stares at the swollen mess between your thighs.

“S’damn right,” he grunts. His eyes are ablaze. “Just for me.”

Your eyelids flutter closed, face warming at the words, and you’re whimpering as he rubs firm circles over your clit. Joel’s tongue presses against yours, coaxes your jaw open until it aches.

“So fuckin’ wet,” he marvels into your mouth. “Always so fuckin’ wet.”

A finger drops to your slick hole, slips slowly slowly slowly inside until the tip of it is curling against the soft spot inside you that he reaches so fucking easily. The air in the room is thin, his breaths a hot wash against your face, and a languid moan snakes its way out of your throat.

“Quiet.” Joel adds a second finger. It’s everything and nothing at the same time. Fingers so long, so thick – fingers that pale in comparison to his cock.

“I want you,” you gasp.

“Hmm?” he hums dangerously.

“Please,” your head tilts back, mouth ajar and thighs trembling as he works you open on his fingers. Joel lets out an impatient sound, and then his fingers drop from your swollen core, and he’s holding a condom. He must’ve pulled it from his back pocket, or between the cushions of the chair, but you don’t dwell on it. Don’t care where or how or why, too restless to be filled to ask; just give a pleased nod and lean back so he has enough room to free his cock from his pants.

The thick weight of it rests in his palm. He’s swollen and thick, the tip a deep rosy colour that reminds you of his flushed cheeks, his puffy lips, and has your mouth watering. And it’s wet with slick strands of precome that drip down his length to meet the movement of his fist.

“S’this what you were thinkin’ about?” Joel breathes shakily. “Got your cute little panties all soaked thinkin’ ‘bout my cock?”

“Yes,” you bite your lip. Watch him tear open the foil packet and roll latex down his length. You ignore the familiar urge to say forget it just take me I’m here and I’m yours just fuck me. “Please.”

“Fuck,” he hisses. Drags his cock against the dripping seam of your cunt. “Say that again.”

“Please,” you repeat, fingers twisting in the front of his shirt. “God, Joel, please.”

A sharp wet smack and a trembling gasp fill the air as he taps the tip against your clit, and then rests himself at the notch of your entrance.

“Show me how bad you want it,” he orders huskily, hands drifting to rest on the arms of his chair. “Go on, fuckin’—ride it.”

Breathing heavily, you reach down to grip him. holding his length still as you lower yourself over his lap.

There’s a stinging resistance there – your body pushing back against the size of him, against the angle.

Joel’s fingers drape against your clit and he rubs soft circles above the spot where you’re connected. You grip the back of the chair, face twisted in muted concentration.

“C’mon,” he breaths, jaw set with clear intention. “Fuckin’ drippin’ for me, y’can take it, I know you can. Yeah—yeah, that’s it.”

You sigh, body relaxing, and you’re pressing down, through. Sink down on him another inch, and then another, until he’s bottoming out inside of you and the skin of your thighs is flush with his pants and he’s making this rough, low sound from deep in his chest. Your mind goes blank for a moment, vision whiting out and lungs squeezing as you hold your breath and adjust to the sheer size of him, to the delicious burn between your thighs where he’s stretching you. And everything is soft and hazy around your mind, but you can see Joel’s eyes on you. The glassy, blissed out expression on his face as you clench around him. His hands drift to your waist, fingers groping bare skin underneath where he holds your skirt up.

“Fuck,” Joel pants. “So god damn tight.”

A pathetic whimper catches in your throat as you grind down, clit rubbing against the coarse hairs at his base. You’re so full, every sense heightened by the feeling of Joel, pressing you apart and making a home for himself inside of you.

Slowly—tentatively—you rock your hips forward, rutting against him in short, shallow movements. His hands encourage your body, guiding you along his cock as you gain confidence.

Soon enough your hips are lifting and dropping back onto him, over and over, tilting against him, doing whatever it takes to drag more hopeless sounds from his mouth. The music from his record player is a low, thrumming bassline in the back of your mind, every bright refrain of guitar punctuated by sharp gasps and elongated sighs.

Joel’s eyes shift from the space between your bodies to your face. Pupils blown, sweat beading along his forehead. Watching you, he seems to fall backward, into himself perhaps. His body goes slack against the armchair, head lolling back as he stares.

“Jesus,” he mutters lowly. “Missed this perfect little pussy.”

There it is again. Perfect, perfect, perfect. You clench around him at the word, rut your hips in a particularly rough movement that has Joel’s eyes rolling back and a guttural moan falling from his lips. His chest is heaving with ragged breaths, the tendons and veins in his neck on display as his chin tilts upward. A bright red flush has raised across the exposed skin of his collarbones, his neck. You lean in and lick the skin there, skirt your teeth across his pulsing jugular. Joel’s palm clasps the back of your neck, holding you against him. You can feel his thighs tensing below you, and then his hips begin to snap upward, meeting you thrust for thrust. The angle is harsh, and he's filling you to the brim, the tip of his cock bruising against the deepest part of you. You cry out against his skin, and the hoarse sound only spurs him on.

His wide palm shifts to hover at the base of your neck, slips beneath the collar of your shirt. Splays over your collarbone, dull fingernails grating against the skin above your breast, by your armpit. You lean back to let him see you, and his eyes drop to watch the way your hips roll over his lap. His finger snags on the strap of your bra and it snaps against your skin.

“Take it off,” you mutter urgently. Need to feel his skin against yours. Chest to chest. Heart to hea—

“No.” His hips snap up into yours faster, knocking the breath from your lungs. One hand grips the armchair, one his shoulder, trying to find some kind of leverage as he pistons into you from below. That fucking Birthday Boy pin is still stuck to his shirt, and blue flashes in the periphery of your vision. A particularly rough thrust has a loud moan parting your lips, but as soon as it begins Joel’s hand is crashing over your mouth, fingers gripping your face to silence the sound. Your eyebrows raise, silently questioning overtop his hand.

“Need to shut up,” he grits out. “Gonna—ohhh—gonna get us caught.”

You glide your tongue against his palm, taste the salt on his skin. Feel his fingers squeeze your jaw harder in response. And then your own hand is moving from his shoulder, fingers gliding across the sweaty skin of his neck, to slot over his mouth. You stare at one another, wild eyes locked, palms sealed over slick lips, and something fiery pulls taught between you. Liquid heat spreads through your muscles, tightening and loosening with every movement of his body against yours. You can feel the coil at the base of your stomach tightening. Your pussy throbs in a rhythm sympatico to that of your heartbeat, and your fingers squeeze around his face.

You can feel the vibration of Joel’s moans against your hand, and then his teeth are sinking into the soft flesh of your palm. For a moment you wonder if he’ll pierce the skin. Let your blood seep from the wound and spill across his tongue; a sacrificial offering. Drink you down, devour you as he lies within your body. You bite down on his palm in return, holding his gaze as your bodies grind and rut against each other.

Your back arches suddenly, and your forehead knocks against his as your orgasm steadily approaches. Joel’s eyes stay locked on yours. Your shoulders begin to lock up, thighs burning, but he doesn’t let up. His hips collide with yours at a devastating pace, and his free hand drops between your thighs. The pad of his middle finger circles your swollen clit, and you jerk against him, every nerve inside your body fraying and sparking.

Joel slurs a curse against your hand and then you’re coming with a haggard whine into his hand, walls constricting around him in a vice grip. You close your eyes only to discover that royal blue is stained on the inside of your eyelids, unavoidable. He is unavoidable. Even in the darkness of your own mind, he lurks. The smell of him in your nostrils, the taste of his spit in your mouth. You think you hear a garbled version of your name spoken into your palm, and then a stinging sensation rips across your ass as Joel starts to come, fingernails dragging across skin, as he grinds his cock desperately into your pulsing heat. Your eyes flutter open, body shivering with the aftershocks of your high, and you watch him. Admire the way his jaw softens beneath your grip, teeth retracting and leaving dull indents on your skin in their wake.

There’s a low pinch between your thighs. It rings out minutes later, a sullen ache, as you lift your hips and let him slip from your wet clutch. His hands fall from your body, and you suck in stale air, taking a clumsy step off his lap to stand shaking on the ground before him. There are circular white marks on his cheeks, lingering reminders of how you held him, smothering his wanton groans of pleasure. You watch them slowly fade to pink, and try to settle the unsteady breaths that wrack your frame.

Your fingers drop lazily to adjust your underwear, but then those hands are tilting your hips, encouraging you to turn until your back is to him. They slip beneath your skirt, find purchase on the band of your panties, and slide the drenched material down your legs. You step out of them, and gasp in surprise when he flicks your skirt up again. A shiver travels down your spine as he glides a finger through your swollen cunt.

“Joel,” you whimper, lips poised to say that it’s too much, too soon, that you need a second to breathe.

But Joel exhales a quiet groan, and something sharp nips the sensitive skin of your ass. Peaking over your shoulder, you find Joel’s mouth there, wet tongue soothing over the mark his teeth made on your flesh. There’s a slip of blue clenched in his fist, held protectively in his lap beside his softening cock.

You feel the vibration of something against your skin, a murmur of words that you can’t quite make out, before he pulls back. Retracts all points of contact, carefully removes the condom, clears his throat softly as he tucks himself back into his pants. The tell-tale sound of the moment drawing to a close. You swallow down that familiar tang disappointment and hold out a hand for your underwear.

And then Joel surprises you.

This soft, teasing smirk lights up his face, and Joel knocks your hand away. A huff of surprised laughter escapes you as he rises and wanders toward the desk. You watch, stunned into silence, as he drags open a drawer on his desk and tucks that blue slip of fabric inside. It slides closed with a definitive thud, and Joel falls down into his desk chair. His eyelids must be heavy, because they droop closed while you watch.

There’s a damp patch at the bottom of his t-shirt that has your face in flames, but he doesn’t seem to care, chest rising and falling with deep breaths as his body relaxes into leather. Your legs tremble as you grip the strap of your bag, taking that as your cue to quietly head for the door.

“Liked your essay.”

You pause with your fingers on the door handle. Turn to find that his eyes are still shut.

“You’re only saying that becau—”

“No,” Joel interrupts, the firm tone a sharp contrast to his lax frame. Eyes open now. “It was good.”

You hum quietly and rock back onto your heels. Unsure of what to say, you settle on offering him a small smile. He nods in return. The silence drifts back in, and you find yourself unable to speak until his eyes close once more.

“Happy birthday, Joel.”

So softly, so as to not disturb. And you aren’t sure whether he heard you or he’s already fallen asleep, but you do notice the corners of his mouth tilt upward ever-so-slightly.

Friday.

A crimson tablecloth covers the expanse of the table. Deep dark red, almost brown, reminiscent of old blood.

Plates smeared with remnants of a dinner long-past litter the surface, dirtied knives and forks stacked precariously atop them. Sauces have hardened to thickened globs on the China, sticky and stale and calling out to be cleaned. But the end of the evening is nary in sight, as Ian, your gracious host, deposits another bottle of wine onto the table.

“It’s a Cabernet Franc,” he slumps back into his seat at the head of the table, directly opposite you. “My parents brought it back from their trip to Bordeaux this past Summer. A gift.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes for the thousandth time in three hours. Pour yourself a generous glass and taste it. Say, “I’m more of a Merlot fan,” despite being drunk as all hell and having zero knowledge to help discern between different wine grapes.

Pete offers a supportive smile, and you watch as his friends light fresh cigarettes that send plumes of smoke to the already stained roof of Ian’s apartment.

Ian’s girlfriend Claire, a wildlife and conservation biology undergrad, is draped across the chair to your left. Eyelids half closed; her slim fingers grip a half-smoked joint for dear life, hand hovering dazed in mid-air between her thigh and her face. You think back on the words Pete spoke to you this morning in the kitchen – there’ll be another woman there, don’t worry. And Claire’s great, I swear. You try to reconcile his words with the girl beside you, and the dank smell of burnt weed drifting toward you through the air. She’d been high when she arrived, and after speaking a measly three words of greeting in your direction, had sequestered herself to a chair and smoked through the entire dinner. When none of the others batted an eye, you held your tongue. And their nonchalance became clear when, upon completion of the meal—overcooked chicken, sticky carrots, and undercooked parsnips—Ian and Henry lit up cigarettes at the table too.

You weren’t sure why you agreed to attend the dinner party.

They’re really cool, Pete had blabbered into his mug that morning. We do it every Friday. It’ll be nice to have you meet some of my friends.

Oh, Pete. Cool, they are not.

Henry and Ian, friends from one of Pete’s environmental engineering units, are filthy rich. The kind that you can smell from a mile away. The kind that radiates from their expensive clothes, their manufactured pearly teeth, their god-awful haircuts. The kind of rich boys that have their own apartments in Portland, paid for by a Mummy and Daddy who holiday in Europe every summer—a trip that Ian has managed to bring up at least once an hour since the moment you met him.

The one beautiful, stunning, gorgeous saving grace is that there is alcohol – enough to ply yourself with in order to deal with Ian, who asked what your postgrad was in and replied slyly, “Oh, a fun one.” Ian, who, upon learning about your translation internship in Greece, said, “Sounds like you had a marvellous vacation.”

In return, you sat like a good little house guest—ornament—and listened to the three of them talk ad nauseam about engineering. Consume glass after glass of wine, decline cigarette after cigarette; you get profusely intoxicated as they debate—interrupt each other—the validity of different pollution control policies.

It’s not until early in the fifth hour of the dinner that Ian raises the topic of philosophy.

“It’s curious, that’s all,” he says, cigarette hanging limply between wine-soaked lips. “That these old guys would just hang out all day and… what, talk? Never understood why people rave about Socrates and Aristotle all the time. Just a bunch of sad sacks that liked the sound of their own voices a little too much, if you ask me.”

You hum against the rim of your glass, decidedly unbothered. Nothing you haven’t heard a hundred times, in a hundred different ways. His dining chairs are stiff, and your ass is aching against the heavy mahogany. Pete shifts awkwardly to your right. You can feel him looking at you, trying to gauge your impending reaction, and your face remains placid, numb from all the wine rushing through your veins.

“Is that what your degree is like?” Ian asks. “A bunch of old guys who love to listen to themselves talk?”

And that almost makes you crack a smile. You respond with a lacklustre shrug that neither confirms nor denies his suspicions, and definitely don’t think about—

“I don’t know,” Henry slurs, shooting a pointed glance in your direction. “I used to date this girl—”

“You fucked her once,” Ian interrupts.

“—Rita—"

“Rose.”

“—and she studied all that shit. Used to tell me about that guy who, he, uhm,” Henry pauses. Belches loudly. “He said something about God committing suicide and like, we’re his body or—wait what is it?”

“Mainländer,” you nod, mildly surprised. “Yeah, it’s a creation theory of sorts – God commits suicide to create the universe, and we’re all living on his decaying corpse.”

“What do you think of that?”

“Of a potential God’s potential suicide?”

“Yeah,” Henry grins dopily.

You sigh. “Would’ve been cooler if he left a note, I suppose.”

Henry guffaws loudly, leans back until his chair is balanced precariously on two legs. The cigarette falls from his fingers to his lap, glowing orange cherry leaving charred ashy marks on his jeans. If you were more sober you might’ve said something. But as if were, you just laugh and drain the final dregs of wine from your glass.

“So, your degree involves stuff like that?” Ian asks then.

“Sometimes,” you hum, already bored with the hint of mockery you sense in his tone. “We study the societies as a whole, so yeah, there’s talk about philosophy on occasion.”

“And mythology,” he wiggles his eyebrows from across the table, fluttering his fingers in the air. “Must be fun to talk about made up ideas all day.”

Henry clears his throat roughly and plucks the cigarette out of his lap, all remaining hints of laughter filtering into silence.

You stare. Feel your hackles rise. Sharper this time, as a more acute sense of irritation floods your system. “You do know that Greece and Italy are real countries with real histories, right?”

Claire moves for the first time in fifteen minutes, takes a long drag from her joint. Exhales in your direction.

“Sure,” Ian shrugs. “But you have to admit, all the stuff about the Greek Gods is a little silly.”

You spare a quick glance in Pete’s direction and find him wearing a tight, awkward smile, looking at you with something apologetic in his eyes.

“Silly,” you repeat the word slowly. It as though your brain is working at a thousand miles a minute, desperate to catch up with the conversation. Constantly two steps behind wherever Ian is dragging you. And he’s giving you this smarmy, sympathetic smile that screams oh your poor thing, you have no idea how poor your future job prospects are, and you’ve seen that smile a hundred times, had this conversation a thousand more, and you can suddenly envision yourself reaching across the table and pouring your glass of wine into his lap.

“And what about the rest?” you ask tersely. The collar of your shirt scratches against your neck, and his cigarette is spilling ash onto the fucking table, and he’s an asshole, and you want to throttle him for getting off on belittling you.

“The rest?”

“The rest,” you nod. “I suppose I can admit that those gods are silly, so long as we’re also admitting how fucking laughable biblical Gods ar—"

Pete says your name sharply. You pause, seal your lips shut. He shakes his head almost imperceptibly, the wary glint in his eyes a reminder that you’re a guest in Ian’s apartment. Ian’s apartment that was paid for by Mummy and Daddy; Ian’s apartment that has a crucifix above the kitchen entryway.

“More wine?” Pete asks smoothly. He’s rising from the table before you can respond, lifting the bottle and pouring a swell of red into your glass. Ian’s grin broadens, and a fresh round of irritation flares across the back of your alcohol sodden brain.

“Gimme a second,” you mutter, pushing your chair out. Your body sways as you stand, blood rushing to your head. Blinking the dizzy spell away, you grip Pete’s shoulder for leverage and make your way past him, shuffle down the hall and into a swanky bathroom. Your feet are heavy, mind a blur, as you collapse onto the toilet seat and rest your face against the cool tiled wall.

“Silly,” you grumble under your breath. “You’re fucking silly… asshole.”

Digging your phone from your pocket, you squint against its harsh light. Fingers fumble across the screen to your messages app. Tap Nora’s name, and hold your finger against the voice memo button.

“Nora,” you mumble, nose squished against tile. “It’s awful, you... I need you to save me.”

There’s a roar of laughter from the dining room.

“Why do men always have to be the smartest person in the room?” you continue as the sound dies down. The tile is cool against your skin, a welcome reprieve from the boozy flush that’s taken over your body.

“Pete is such an—” hiccup “—asshole for inviting me to this, I swear—”

Your phone hits the ground with a sharp clatter, and you curse, torso tilting forward as you reach clumsily for it. When you tilt the screen back to your face, a jolt rushes through you. You stare for a moment, dumbfounded, at the picture. There’s the soft sound of rushing water in your ears – your pulse, you realise.

“No,” you mutter, senses sharpening the longer you stare at the picture; your soaked blue panties. At the voice memo underneath said picture, that had certainly not gone to Nora. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, no.”

A moment of painful clarity comes when you make out the delivered sign below the voice message. Blurry eyes dance across the screen, vaguely deciphering the capitalised word MILLER. Panic swirls in your stomach, a churning writhing thing that feels a lot like nausea.

And then a text appears.

Are you drunk?

Your thighs are still numb from sitting for so long, so you slink dejectedly onto the floor and type out a response.

yes

that wasn’t for you

Ten minutes pass. You stare at the bright screen until worn-out tears prick in your eyes.

Doing okay?

tired

ate bad food, drank alotta wine

Probably time to go home.

cant drive

thought you hada phd? telling me to drunk driev

bad profeseor

Five minutes. Pete knocks on the door to ask if you’re okay and you assure him that you’re fine.

Where are you?

You type out the address carefully. Wash your hands in the sink and combs wet fingers through your hair to tame your appearance before skulking back into the dining room, where the vulture awaits you.

“I’m going,” you announce blandly. Claire is asleep, you think. Ian and Henry are playing an aggressive game of cards. Only Pete looks up.

“How are you getting home?” he frowns.

“Got a ride,” you mutter. Collect your things and give his shoulder a brief squeeze before slipping out the front door.

The air is cool outside the apartment building. A sharp breeze whistles through the parking lot, snakes it’s way beneath your clothes to curl against your skin. You welcome the chill. Rub lazily at the goosebumps on your arms as you glance at the last text from Joel.

Be there in 20.

You’re perched on the stoop when headlights finally appear. You curse, eyes smarting as you duck to avoid the harsh fluorescents, and then a black truck is idling a few metres away, engine purring. The passenger door kicks open and you squint, trying—and failing—to see inside through the darkness. Until—

“Get in.”

You’re barely in the car before Joel is pressing a bottle of water into your hand. The plastic is sweating, damp with condensation, and you sigh in relief. Press it against your neck, your face.

“Drink it,” he says sternly. You crack an eye open and look at him. He’s so close. Just a hairsbreadth from you, in a soft t-shirt and jeans. Glasses on the end of his nose. Fluffy hair—bed hair. There’s a soft frown on his face that dips and rolls in your vision. A downward tilt to his mouth as he puts the car in drive and tears away from Mummy and Daddy’s apartment.

“Hey,” you give him a lop-sided smile.

“Hey."

“Were you in bed?”

“You stink,” Joel ignores your question. “You chain-smokin’ in there? Christ.”

“Not me,” you huff in frustration. Take a small sip of water, careful not to spill on the seat. “They were smoking at the table. While we were eating.”

“Who was?”

“Pete’s friends.”

“Who’s Pete?” Joel grunts. He’s got a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel, and his eyes are set on the road. Only when you don’t respond does he look back at you.

“Who’s Pete?” he repeats. Something stony in his voice. You smile.

“One of my roommates,” you offer. “Why? You jealous?”

“Quit it,” he bites out. “You gonna tell me where you live or am I s'posed to guess?”

Your smile spreads into a full-blown grin as you type your address into his phone. He snatches it from your hand and tells you to drink it all. You sit in silence for a while after that. Roll down the window and let your hand rest outside the car, fingers fluttering as the wind whips past them. He’s driving fast, green traffic lights blurring in your vision, and you feel your head spin faster, harder. Mumble under your breath.

“What?” he asks, voice too loud.

“Slow down,” you repeat, inhaling a deep breath. You feel him ease his foot of the gas instantly, a hand coming to hover over your knee.

“You feelin’ okay?” he murmurs.

“Mm.”

You let your eyes slip shut. Just for a second. A minute. And then—

“Hey.” A firm hand is on your shoulder. Thumb pressing into the skin beneath your collarbone. “Wake up.”

You jolt upright in the seat. Rub a palm roughly against your eye. Forget that you’re wearing makeup until you see black smeared across your hand.

Joel is saying something as you climb out of his truck, but you don’t hear it. Too busy pressing the door shut behind you and stumbling up the paved path to your house. Cool metal slides in your palm, numb fingers grappling for purchase. You scratch the key against the door’s aperture once, twice, and then feel it slip from your hand. A wave of dizziness hits as you watch it clatter against the ground.

“Shit,” you grumble. Bend down to pick it up. Rise and try a third time as silver swims in your vision. You hear a car door slam, the sound of heavy footsteps approaching, and slur another impatient curse under your breath.

“Let me help,” he says from behind you.

“It’s fine,” you protest, skin searing with embarrassment.

“C’mon.” Joel’s warm hand covers yours. Pries the key from your palm and unlocks your front door in a one easy movement. “Let’s get you inside.”

“I can do it.”

“Just let me help you.”

You practically float down the hall, buoyed by the thick arm around your waist, towing you along. In your room, Joel clicks on the lamp in the corner. Dim orange light envelops the space as you fall back onto your bed with a huff, shirt riding up to expose a sliver of your stomach.

“You need more water before you sleep” he says. “And a fuckin' shower.”

“Mmm,” you agree, eyelids fluttering. “I'm… just gonna lie here for a second.”

The responding sound is that of heavy footsteps disappearing down the hall. A fleeting rush of liquid somewhere in the distance. Your eyes close for a minute, maybe two, and reopen to find Joel’s broad frame hovering in the doorway, holding a glass of water and gripping the doorknob as he assesses your most private space. Your eyes are hardly open, but you can see him in the dim light. Glancing into the darkness of the hall and then back to you, slumped messily against the pillows. After a thick moment of silence, he steps decidedly across the threshold, and closes your bedroom door behind him.

As you watch him, you begin to feel a sense of startling clarity.

Joel Miller, in your house. Joel Miller, in your bedroom. Joel Miller… seeing you make a complete fool out of yourself.

“Oh fuck,” you blurt out.

“What?” Joel asks sharply. He rounds the bed in two quick strides, and then he’s pressing a glass of water on your side table and sitting beside you. His weight on the side of the bed has the mattress dipping, your body tilting onto your side to face his back. A wave of nausea strikes suddenly, and you suck your lips into your mouth. No.

“Y'oughta warn me if you’re gonna be sick,” he warns.

“M’not.”

“You better not.”

“I won’t.”

“Think you’ll need about ten of those,” you hear him say. “But one glass is a good start.”

But there’s already an ocean inside you. Rocky, white-wash waves that lap at the walls of your stomach, press against your lungs, and have your mind swaying even as your body lies still. Fingers, moving faster than your brain, seek purchase. Crawling across the sheets to snag your index through a belt loop on the back of his jeans. Chilled skin against worn denim, an anchor. Something sturdy to calm the eddying current inside you.

“What’re you—”

“Did you have a good day yesterday?” you interrupt, eager to distract yourself.

Joel is silent for a while. Keeps looking down at you until he finally says, “Yeah,” so quiet that your ears strain to hear it.

There’s a hint of something there that you can’t quite read. An emotion that he holds clasped in tight hands, just beyond your reach. You let it be, mind distracted by the soft orange light emanating from the lamp. When you close your eyes it glows against the back of your eyelids, vibrant swaths of sunset and marigold that make it hard to fall asleep just yet.

“Seventy, right?” you tease.

An indignant scoff rings out, and you squeak as a set of rough fingers pinch at the skin of your exposed stomach. The quickest touch, just a graze of flesh, before he’s pulling back. You laugh easily, open your eyes to look at him again.

“Careful now,” he warns. But you can see humour in the lines by his eyes, the quirk of his lip.

Your finger wiggles against his belt loop, tugging on the material there once. A tired patience in your eyes as you wait.

“Fifty,” he finally concedes, smile wavering as his gaze darts to the sheets.

“Mhm,” you murmur. Lips part as you let loose a low, impressed whistle. It comes out as more of a lacklustre exhalation of air. Joel’s shoulders are shaking with silent laughter when he meets your eyes again, a little more relaxed. “The big five-oh, huh?”

“The big five-oh,” he repeats simply. Tired as you are, you can see the question in his eyes. This searching, curious thing that rakes across your features, waiting to note any hint that you might be perturbed by the fact.

“S’nice,” you offer quietly instead. “Get any good gifts?”

The muscles in his neck strain, shirt tightening around his shoulders as he turns to look at you head on. Soft eyes gleam with something darker, teasing, as his lips pull into a lazy smirk.

“Sure,” he agrees, voice low, suggestive. “Good’s one word for it.”

Warmth floods your stomach and your toes curl. But you falter under the intensity of his gaze, a weary heat rising in your cheeks as your gaze lowers to his collarbone.

“Hey," you say quietly. “Look, I appreciate you helping me out tonight, I just…”

Joel’s eyebrows pinch the middle of his forehead, relaxation dissipating as he stares.

“Sorry,” you grimace, skin on fire. All of a sudden, your finger feels swollen in his belt loop, a promise that you can’t keep, the fabric branding hot against your skin as the words tumble out of you. “I’m just, I’m pretty wasted, and I’m grateful, you know, but I don’t think I can—we probably can’t fuck tonight—"

Joel says your name quickly. His hand is gripping your bedsheets, sun-kissed skin against pale yellow. “We’re not fucking.”

Unwitting relief courses through you, and you nod slowly. “Yeah, okay, I just wasn’t sure if you thought maybe… I don’t know—"

“Thought that if I gave you a ride home you owed me a fuck?” he asks plainly, expression tight. A dark, frustrated laughs spills from his lips and his shoulders are tightening, muscles shifting beneath his t-shirt. “That’s not how this goes, darlin’. So don’t go thinkin’ that way, ever, y’hear me?”

You blink, eyes wide. Suddenly alert. Feel the warmth in your stomach spread to your chest, your thighs. Darlin’.

“Okay,” you murmur. “Yeah, that’s—how does this work then?”

The indent between his brows only deepens as he gazes down at you.

“You call the shots,” Joel says. “I thought that was well established by now.”

His brown eyes look so soft in the dim lighting of your bedroom. Honeyed and golden in the warm orange haze. You stare at them for so long that you lose track of whether or not he’s answered your question. Forget everything that isn’t the lines beside his eyes, the dark speck of his pupils, the wild hairs of his eyebrows. You feel yourself drift closer to sleep again.

“Pretty,” someone says faintly. You. “You’ve got brown eyes.”

“Jesus.” He’s still frowning.

“Brown-eyed girl,” you sing—slur.

“Alright, Van Morrison,” Joel grumbles, the lines in his face softening. “Drink up.”

You do as he asks, gulping down half the water while he watches. His fingers rest cautiously at the base of the glass in case you drop it. And when you’re finished, he takes it from your hands, stands. Another wave crashes inside you when the mattress shifts in the absence of his weight, and you drift, unmoored, onto your back again.

Joel is staring at you. Towering over the bed, hands jammed awkwardly against his hips. His presence so large, so looming. He crowds your small space, his size ensuring that there is no room for another; only you and him, you and him, you and him, and you call the shots. You squeeze your eyes shut, determined to block that thought out.

“I think I’ll go to sleep now,” you mutter. “If that’s alright with you, teach.”

Joel says something, but it’s a far away sound. You tuck your face further into your pillow.

You think you hear him say good night, or some version thereof, but you don’t hear him leave. Don’t hear his boots on the hardwood, or the creak of your bedroom door. Don’t hear his truck start up outside.

And when you wake, alone, you find that droplets of rain have settled on your windowsill, marking another wet September morning. But you don’t frown as you drag a sweater from your closet, nor as you draw the curtains and clamber back into bed. Don’t yearn for the warmth of Summer as the dull ache of a hangover ricochets inside your skull. For you can smell Joel on your sheets; can still feel his presence lingering in the corners of your room.

And that’s warm enough for you.

tags: @lovely-ateez @nana90azevedo @stevie75 @evyiione @dameron-grant-spector @brittmb115 @ashhlsstuff @casa-boiardi @sinfulrock @bbyanarchist @murc0cks4eva @hopplessilse @joeldjarin @anoverwhelmingdin @bluevxnus @kelp-dreaming @prettyinpunk85 @spacelatinos4life @iluvurfather @daisies-yellow @mrsquill @sarap-77 @sunnywithachanceofjavi @alleyy-katt @zeida @mendessi @love-the-abyss @myrealmofchaos @a-roving-woman @punkshort @gracie7209 @whichwitchwanda @fellinfromthetop @bitchwitch1981 @suzmagine @lmariephoto37 @harriedandharassed @cumberpegg @tonysttank @ourautumn86 @my-tearsricochet @shotgun-shelby @5oh5

thank you for reading! x [and idgaf okay i was gonna put that birthday boy pin on him no matter what shitty excuse i had to come up with]

#my writing #fic: a lover's pinch #professor!joel #ALP #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller smut

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