#whats this?? angst in my au??? more likely than you think

[actuallysaiyan]

Thank You(Scarred!Rengoku Kyojuro x Fem!Slayer!Reader)

warnings: trauma, mentions of death, wounds, blood, smut, unprotected sex, angst, sadness, fluff, Mugen Train Spoilers, AU word count: 2.3k pairings: Scarred!Rengoku Kyojuro x Fem!Slayer!Reader summary: after Kyojuro survives the events of the Mugen Train incident, he finds himself hoping for someone better to come sweep you off your feet. what Kyojuro doesn't realize is that you are with him, for better or for worse. a/n: IT HAS BEEN SO LONG SINCE I'VE WRITTEN FOR THIS BEAUTIFUL MAN! PLEASE I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY!!!!

Dividers by the loverly @benkeibear

taglist: @beneathstarryskies @benkeibear @misty-angerose @adharadotcom

Since the incident that happened with the Mugen Train, Kyojuro wondered how many days he had left. He hated thinking that way, but he couldn’t help but think about how he was always inches away from death. He just barely managed to avoid death that time, and now he was trying to heal so he could get right back to being the flame Hashira.

But something had been more pressing than that. Even though he lost his left eye and sustained some deep internal wounds, his love for you never faltered. He found himself thinking of not only his mother, but also you, during his final moments. Or at least, what Kyojuro had believed to be his last moments. And when he had bestowed his advice on the young Kamado, Kyojuro felt his life fading fast.

The one thing he hadn’t been expecting was to see your beautiful face as he felt his life slipping away. You weren’t happy though, no you were desperate. You began treatment on him immediately, using a potion from Shinobu. She had been the one to tell you that your lover had gone on to fight the demon plaguing the Mugen Train. 

The next thing Kyojuro remembers is waking up in the Butterfly Mansion. His whole body ached, he couldn’t see out of his left eye and he was tired. But he didn’t think he was going to make it out alive from that battle. He remembered the way young Kamado was so fed up with the way the demon had gotten away. He remembered the determination on your face too.

“Oh, you’re awake.” Shinobu comments as she enters the room. Kyojuro feels so disoriented.

“Mmm…yes.”

Shinobu begins taking his vitals, checking his healing. When she feels satisfied with the way things are going, she begins to change his bandages. While she’s taking care of him, Kyojuro inquires about your wellbeing and how things happened after he passed out from the bloodloss.

“You were so lucky she was there,” Shinobu finally says.

Kyojuro swallows hard, “I know that. I owe her my life.”

Shinobu leaves, telling him that lunch will be served momentarily. He lies in the bed, feeling a little better now that his bandages have been changed and that Shinobu had given him something for the pain. He thinks about you, wondering where you are.

The door opens and there you are. You look inside the room, worried about what you might find. You’ve been missing your lover. You worried day and night about him, unsure if you’d ever get to look at his beautiful face once more. You wondered if you’d ever hear the sound of his voice.

You rush over to him, tears in your eyes. He doesn’t even know what to say. He lets you crumble in his arms, and he lets you press kisses to his wounded and scarred face.

“Oh my flame…” you whisper. “I thought—I thought I was going to lose you.”

“Precious little flame,” Kyojuro murmurs back. “I am happy to see you again.”

You cup his face, careful not to put too much pressure on any of his wounds. Then you press your lips to his, savoring the way he tastes. You swore to yourself that you’d never forget this taste. You’d never forget the way he smells like scorched earth and bonfires. The way he’s always warm, even on cold nights. Tears cascade down your cheeks.

“I love you, Kyojuro. I never wanted you to go on that mission.”

Kyojuro chuckles, “You know that I needed to go. I’m a Hashira. I’m meant to protect the innocent.”

You cry even harder, making his face screw up in pain. He hates hearing you cry. He hates seeing you in pain like this. Kyojuro sits up and he gathers you up in his arms. Even if his bones and muscles scream out in pain, he doesn’t care. What matters most to him is to be able to hold you so close.

“I’m scared to lose my lover,”

Your words pierce his heart. He knows what it means to have this heavy burden placed on his shoulders. His father had quit being the Hashira because of the death of his mother. Kyojuro had watched the man crumble so quickly, taking up alcohol as a way to cope. He wonders if maybe you’d end up like that if you were to lose him.

“You won’t lose me. I promise,”

The next few weeks consist of you helping Kyojuro return to the closest to normal as he can. He’s mostly been relieved of his duties as a Hashira for the time being. He’s healing up well, but something sits deep in his heart. He wonders if maybe you should find someone else.

Not only are you attending to his every need now, you’re just wasting your precious time with him. You could be happier with someone else. You could make someone very lucky. It hurts Kyojuro so deeply when he begins to imagine you with someone else.

Late at night when everyone has gone to sleep and you’re sleeping in his arms now that Shinobu has given the okay for this, Kyojuro admires your beauty. He admires your strength and your courage. Then he thinks about you marrying someone else. He’s no fool, he knew he should have perished in his last battle. He should have died.

Kyojuro cannot bring himself to even imagine making you his bride. The thought of turning you into such a young widow. It makes him ache so deep inside. He weeps silently, wishing things could be different for the both of you. He thinks about how he’s going to break things off with you. It’s what should happen. You could be so much happier.

The thing is, Kyojuro didn’t realize that you were so determined to keep him close to your heart. One day as the two of you are walking through the wisteria trees, you turn to face your lover.

“Kyo, you know that I absolutely adore you, correct?”

He smiles softly, “I do know this, my little flame.”

His jaw drops when he sees you kneeling in front of him. A beautiful silver band sits in your hands as you present to him this ring. It’s engraved with someone’s name on it, but he doesn’t recognize it.

“I know I shouldn’t be the one to do this.” You try to clarify. “It should be the man. But I love you, and I’m not about to lose you. Please…marry me.”

Kyojuro feels his stomach doing flips. He looks at the beautiful ring you have presented him. He looks at the sincerity in your eyes and it just breaks his heart. You deserve better than someone cracked and broken.

“My little flame,” he helps you to your feet. “I couldn’t…I shouldn’t…”

Your heart shatters at the response. It’s not at all what you were expecting. Tears began to well up in your eyes. You don’t know how to process the words that have just come from your lover.

“D-do you not…do you not love me?”

It was his turn for his heart to shatter. The thought of you even thinking he doesn’t love you was enough to make him tremble. Tears slide down his cheeks as he gathers you up in his arms. You try to squirm to get away, which makes him feel even more guilty.

“I do love you. I love you so much, I’d give you the moon and the stars if you asked it of me.” Kyojuro explains through sobbing and hiccuping. “I’d give you anything you want. I just think you deserve better than me. I’m broken and I’m not good enough for you.”

You shake your head in defiance. “Kyojuro, you are my heart and my soul. You are more than good enough for me.”

Then you cup his face in your hands. It’s been a while since his bandages have been taken off, but he still suffers from nerve damage and sensitivities. He shudders at your touch, loving the way your softness always comes through. He nuzzles his face in the palms of your hands, sighing.

“I am broken.” He finally manages to say. “You need someone who could make you happy.”

You scoff, “You are the one who makes me happy. You are the one I need.”

Kyojuro finally opens his eyes. The left one doesn’t work, only able to see grayscale in that one. He can see very vague shapes through it. But he knows what you look like from memory. Even if he lost his sight completely, he would still know the beauty and grace that has blessed you.

“I wouldn’t want you to regret it.”

You shake your head, “Marrying my lover would never be a regret.”

The day fast approaches. Kyojuro wonders if he’ll look presentable for you. He knows that his father has allowed you and him to wear the family’s traditional wedding clothes, but he still feels like a complete failure to his family and to you.

“Kyojuro,” Shinjuro enters the room. “Are you prepared?”

Kyojuro is touched to see his father looking so well-groomed for the first time in what seems like forever. He smiles, tears filling his eyes once more. Shinjuro is shocked, but he feels this tenderness coming from his eldest son. Shinjuro approaches his son, smoothing down the folds in his garment.

“You will be a good husband. You are patient, caring, sweet and understanding. You have inherited the best qualities from me and your mother, just like your brother has.”

Kyojuro wipes his eyes, pulling on the eyepatch to cover the damaged eye. Shinjuro smiles sweetly, pressing a kiss to his son’s forehead. He doesn’t remember the last time he was this affectionate with Kyojuro. It feels so good to know his son has survived and is taking a good woman as his bride.

“You will be blessed. This I know.”

Kyojuro exits his dressing room and he’s guided towards the shrine that your marriage will take place in. Shinjuro guides him to the altar, and then he takes his spot off to the side. 

All eyes are on you as you arrive. You walk down towards the altar, looking like an angel dressed in your all-white shiromuku. Kyojuro’s eyes widen when he sees you. You’re the most precious thing in his life, and here you are, walking towards him so you can get married.

The wedding officiant begins the ceremony which will join you and Kyojuro forever. You will be bound together. 

Everyone is in tears by the time you two share a kiss. They have never witnessed such a wonderful union in their lives. All your friends are so happy for the both of you.

By the time the wedding is over, you know that you have no regrets. You have made the best choice for yourself. You adore Kyojuro and nothing could ever change that for you.

Kyojuro had been worried that you wouldn’t want to be intimate with him. He had his doubts that you even saw him as attractive anymore. But every doubt and worry and insecurity was tossed out the window the minute you two were relaxing in the onsen in your honeymoon suite.

You straddled his lap gently, kissing him on the lips. Your hands caressed and massaged his muscles, making him feel aroused. His cock twitched to life with every single searing kiss you gave him.

Your tongues tangled together, swapping saliva. His breath feels hot on your skin whenever you pull away to breathe. Soft pleas fall from your reddened and swollen lips.

“I want you,” you purr. “I need to feel you.”

Kyojuro is shocked, but his heart skips a beat. He feels the way you touch him, and he knows you are being very truthful. With renewed strength, your husband picks you up and brings you over to the bed. He crawls on top of you, the lust and love written all over his face.

He kisses you passionately, cupping your face between his calloused hands. His nose rubs against yours, dragging down your cheek as he finds other places to kiss you. Your body feels so hot, so electrified. Every touch and every kiss is mesmerizing.

“You are so beautiful,” he breathes out as he kneads your breasts.

“As you are,” you compliment him. “You look just as beautiful as the day I met you.”

This makes his heart swell with love. Despite everything he was thinking before he married you, he can see that you adore him. You want the best for him, and you happen to be the absolute best for him.

You watch through half-lidded eyes as he suckles on your nipples, then he presses open-mouthed kisses down your body. Kyojuro lets out a growl when he spreads your thighs and he takes a greedy inhale of your scent. You are divine, intoxicating, sweet and musky. It’s all too much for him, he feels like he could lose himself completely to you.

He laps at you like a man who’s been in the desert for ages and you are his oasis. Your nectar dribbles on his lips and tongue, making him moan as he tastes you so fervently. Kyojuro expertly pulls two orgasms from you with just his mouth alone. Then he settles himself on his knees, ready to push into you.

The stretch is delicious and leaves you feeling full. He kisses away all your tears, praising you for taking him so well. Both of you are unable to last long now that you’re making love, and your orgasm makes him tumble over the edge quickly. 

Soft kisses and whispered words of praise are what end the first night as a newlywed couple, and when you awake the next day, you see the man you adore in the shining light of the sun peeking through the curtains.

“Thank you for not giving up on me,” he says, his heart heavy with love.

You kiss his lips. “I’d never give up on you. Because you’ve never given up on me.”

[katerina-marie]

Bathtub Confession (Eres Tú)

Sukuna x Reader

Part 3 to this

The one where you learn that certain confessions don't always have to be romantic, but others certainly do.

Word Count: 5.7k

Notes: Part 3 of my Sukuna x Reader celebrity!au. Takes place directly after part two. Song of inspiration: Eres Tú by Carla Morrison

Content: bandmember Sukuna x actor female Reader (referred to as such, but left descriptively vague), no y/n, manager Nanami, bodyguard Toji, actor Gojo, found family vibes, some angst, fluff, crack, humor, out of character Sukuna (he's so fluffy), suggestive, maybe lightly explicit, tho no sex actually occurs just yet (sorry), so please avoid accordingly.

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“Should I change my name?”

A beat of silence. A drop of water.

“No.”

“Should I get a wig?”

Another beat of silence. A clink of glass on tile.

“No.” 

“Should I flee the country?”

A minuscule half second of silence.

“Not if you’re going to quit paying me,” Toji grumbled. 

His response made the frown on your face dip down further on your lips, and you rolled your head against the back of your porcelain tub to stare at the ceiling.

“Is that all you see me as?” you whined, “A paycheck?”

“You want me to lie?” 

“That’s it, I’m going to drown myself.” 

That gets a long, heavy sigh from your bodyguard and you can hear him readjust himself on the chaise lounge seated in the middle of your expansive bathroom before he carries on.

“First off,” he grunts, “no you’re not. That would require me to pull your sad self naked from the tub, and we both know we don’t want that. Second…you know you’re not just a paycheck.” Toji goes quiet for a moment. “I’d like to think that we’ve become a sort of family over the last couple years, you, me, and Nanami. Shoot, even Megs too when he’s around.” 

His soft confession brings a smile to your face, and you turn your head to the right to look in his direction from behind a large mahogany privacy screen. It stands tall, wrapping just barely around the ends of your tub where your feet and head lay, keeping you securely tucked away from any prying eyes. It found its way there long ago, because this wasn’t the first time that Toji had played therapist from his dedicated chaise while you lounged in a hot bath and the two of you shared a bottle of wine. 

“Thank you,” you whispered to him, “I’m grateful you’re my friend…and my family.” 

“Don’t worry about it, I know you are. But don’t go on getting too upset or sentimental just because you’ve had a rough day. Things haven’t been that bad,” Toji said, and you groaned at the reminder.

After finally arriving home safely—no thanks to you—Toji immediately went into damage control mode and spent the afternoon fielding phone calls and text messages, though nothing too serious had been blown your way yet. 

You had received a none-too-pleased email from the producer of the movie you and Satoru were co-starring in, accusing you of sabotaging the release by not waiting to reveal your relationship with Sukuna until after the movie premiered in a few short months (as if he couldn’t tell that what happened today wasn’t by choice). Luckily, Satoru swooped in with his sweet-talking words and buttered the producer right back into promising extra money for a job well done. Though Satoru’s idea of fixing things was convincing the producer that the only premise that sold better than a classic love story was the angst of a good ol’ fashioned love triangle, and he was more than happy to play the jilted lover dead set on winning you back. You wondered what it must be like to live in such delusions. 

What really put the cherry on top of a bad day was the text you received from Sukuna shortly after arriving home. It wasn’t anything particularly worrisome, a straight to the point, “I’ll call you this evening, busy smoothing a couple things out, x,” but it had you in a fit nonetheless. After sending a quick affirmation back, you threw your phone across the couch in your living room and flung yourself onto the nearest surface to bemoan your miserable existence. Toji was not amused when that nearest surface happened to be his chest, and he only offered you five minutes of soaking his shirt with snot and tears before he drug you upstairs to your bedroom, turned on the hot water to your tub, and shoved you into the bathroom with a promise to return with wine if you quieted down for just a second. 

So here you were, an hour later, soaking under a mountain of peppermint scented bubbles while you toed at the hot water handle at the end of the tub. 

“You think if I begged hard enough Nanami would let me come stay with him for the rest of his vacation? I’m afraid I’m in need of a tropical escape,” you told Toji, already calculating in your head how quickly you could pack your bags and be on the next plane to Malaysia. 

Toji chuckled, “No, I don’t think he would, considering he refused to tell us anything more about his trip other than what country he’d be in and when he’d be back. You showing up would take seven years off his life. Add three more if he opens up the door to you sobbing like you’ve been all day. Besides, running away to another country just because you’re afraid to talk to your boyfriend is a cowardly move.” 

You ‘tsked’ at him for calling you out on poor behavior and slouched further down into the hot water in shame-filled defeat. Instead of wallowing in it further though, you popped your ankles up on the rim of the tub, tossed your arms back to hang behind your head, and clapped twice to get Toji’s attention.

“Another glass of wine, please,” you mocked in as snobby an accent as you could manage.

“What do you take me as? I’m not your damn butler,” he complained, but you could hear the quick successive cracking of his back as he stood up from the chaise and stretched. 

“Just one more and that’ll be it, I promise.” You considered what else could entice him into doing your bidding. “I’ll let you be done for the evening and take the day off tomorrow if you also bring me a plate of cheese and crackers, please.” 

Toji was silent before letting out a begrudging “fine” and shuffling out the door without another complaint. 

You marveled in the silence, nothing but the occasional lap of water as you adjusted yourself in the tub to break it. After a few minutes, however, you realized the absence of conversation was the perfect environment for your thoughts to run unhindered, and that was not something you cared to partake in at the given time. Trying to concentrate on anything else though was futile, and perhaps trying to wade through your own head for a few minutes would leave you feeling better when you chose to pointedly ignore it once your butler…ahem, Toji, returned with your snacks.

Besides falling on national television—and underneath Gojo Satoru nonetheless—you had a particularly difficult time deducing from yourself what exactly about the accidental revelation of your relationship with Sukuna caused you so much embarrassment. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be associated with him or that you always intended for the relationship to remain secret until it had reached its course; your desire was quite the opposite, actually. It was a feeling best left to baser animals and bedroom activities, but the idea of staking a claim, proving that he belonged to you in a way, was not unappealing and not something you could talk your way out of thinking, especially with the world the two of you lived in. 

If you got down to it, the real problem lay in your unfortunate habit of caring what people thought. You didn’t want Sukuna to see you as childlike, only a few years younger than him in age but miles behind in maturity. You didn’t want him to view today’s incident as a misfortunate foreshadow into the “what if’s” of your relationship. Neither did you want the world looking at the two of you and questioning how exactly something like it came to be. Where Sukuna was all sharp angles and dark colors, suave nonchalance and carrying a presence that demanded to be seen, you felt painfully opposite. You wouldn’t self-deprecate and believe that you were unworthy of standing beside him, but just cognizant of how different you felt. More like something that could be just as appreciated, but more likely to be overlooked and favored over something brighter. A “mismatched pair” is what they would call you, something that struck you so vividly that the pressure in your chest increased ten-fold. You knew he would hear it, see it, be made aware of it, and while he may not agree right away, you wondered how long it would take for the sphere of influence to get to him too. The anticipatory grief (as your actual therapist called it, usually followed by anxiety) of waiting for someone you valued so much to realize that he had better options was enough to make you consider running away from the whole thing entirely. 

And that’s how you came back to scheming your departure from the country. If you hurried, you could probably towel off, pack a bag, and slip out the back before Toji realized (you wondered if the big oaf had decided to take a nap instead of bringing you snacks for how long it’d been since you last heard him). Surely Nanami wouldn’t abandon you in your time of need if you were wailing at him over the phone in the airport of a foreign country. 

But alas, you heard your bathroom door open, effectively cutting off any means of escape.

“It’s about time, Toji. What took you so long?” He neither spoke, nor took another step. “Eh, no matter. Bring me my snacks, please.” 

Footsteps continued again and before you could chastise Toji further, a voice spoke up from right behind your privacy screen. 

“Should I be concerned with the normalcy of your bodyguard attending to you while you’re naked in the bath?” 

The shock of hearing Sukuna’s voice caused you to jolt, sending your legs into the water with an unmistakable splash and leaving you to scurry back into a sitting position from where you had slipped dangerously close to submerging your whole head underwater. The indecency of it all would kill you if this conversation that was about to happen didn’t.

“I assure you,” you started, hoping you didn’t sound as wrecked as you felt, “it is not nearly as salacious as you made it out to be.” 

Sukuna hummed. “Really? Because it sounded as if you were expecting him, and when I ran into him downstairs he told me to tell you that he would be back up to deliver wine and cheese shortly. Sounds like a romantic evening to me if I’ve ever heard one.”

You were relieved to hear a hint of amusement in your boyfriend’s voice, but horrified at what he was saying. 

“Please stop implying things that’ll make me gag.” 

Sukuna chuckled, but was quiet for a minute until, “You have five seconds to tell me to stop before I move this privacy screen so we can talk face to face.” 

You shot upwards, looking around hurriedly as you tried to scrape the remaining bubbles in the tub to strategic places in order to maintain your dignity, though you realized a moment later that it was probably unnecessary. With a second left, you brushed tendrils of your hair away from your face and wiped your thumb across the top of your lip to remove any remnants of a wine stain from your skin. In the next, Sukuna was pushing aside the privacy screen and looking down at you with a blank—but not unkind—expression. You eyed him warily as he walked up to the edge of the tub and dropped a cushion from the chaise Toji was sitting on earlier to the floor. He settled himself down onto it and then placed his elbow on the edge of the tub so he could lean in close to you. 

“Hello,” you whispered to him, settling both your arms down next to his and then resting your head against them. A small smile crossed his face.

“Hello to you too.” 

You were surprised at the lack of tension in his face, no clenched jaw or heavy brow to be seen, and as you trailed your eyes further down his torso you noticed its absence there too. His shoulders were relaxed, and his chin was cupped in the hand propped up on the tub so he could gaze at you with those unnervingly observant eyes of his. You wished he’d been wearing a t-shirt instead of the thin navy turtleneck he currently had on so you could focus your stare on the black tattoos decorating his body. Aside from being intricate, and distracting, they always gave you something to look at when meeting his eyes felt like too much. 

The tenderness of Sukuna’s knuckles meeting your temple forced you to look back up at him, only to see that he was following the path his fingers were making over your skin. They grazed over your cheekbone, feathered down the bridge of your nose, and then were skimming over your mouth, his thumb catching ever so lightly on your bottom lip. His hand didn’t linger there, and it was quick to skate over your jaw before his thumb landed under your ear and the rest of his fingers tangled in your hair while his palm cupped your neck. With a slide of his other hand up your arm and down your back to press between your shoulder blades, Sukuna brought you close enough to him that he was able to reach the rest of the way over the tub and kiss you. His lips remained pressed against yours for a second or two before he broke away, hesitated, and then leaned in to do it once more, twice, and a third time. 

You were the one that put space between the two of you, sitting back in the water and drawing your knees to your chest. You desperately needed to inhale without smelling the crispness of his aftershave or the spiced warmth of his cologne, both of which were guilty of making your head spin. 

“You’re not mad at me?” you asked, breaking the silence before he had a chance to, before you lost your nerve. You watched as his head tilted slightly to one side, his expression a touch befuddled, but full of disbelief. 

“Why would I be mad at you?” He questioned slowly, moving himself to his knees on the cushion so he could go back to resting his arms on the tub. 

“I don’t see why you wouldn’t be,” you told him, your voice a bit sharp. “I inadvertently told anyone with access to the internet that we were dating, without even talking to you about it, and then proceeded to flee the scene like a coward instead of getting back out there to present myself as confident enough to own up to my mistakes. Not to mention the fall with Satoru right before. It’s embarrassing. The whole thing made us—me—look like a giant mess!” 

Your voice cracked on the last word, and you bit down on the inside of your cheek until you tasted iron. Sukuna looked pained, and he reached a hand out to play with your fingers as they sat at the top of your knees. 

“You’re not a mess,” he said, rubbing his thumb in small circles over the middle knuckle of one of your fingers, “and I’m not embarrassed either. I never intended to keep us a secret, and I’m not trying to implicate you when I say this, but I don’t think I ever implied doing so that evening.” 

“Well, yeah,” you huffed, the twinkle in his ochre-brown eyes and the mischievous grin on his face as he hinted to the night the two of you cemented your relationship into the category of “official” making your face get warm, “we didn’t do a whole lot of talking after that point.” 

You tried to jerk your hands out from under his to cover up your cheeks, but Sukuna was unrelenting in his hold, and you gave up before continuing on, “I know you never implied that you wanted to keep our relationship hidden, but that’s been the theme of whatever we’ve had going on these last ten months. We were sneaking around from the very beginning, we lied about it to Yuji and Choso, and then let’s not forget about the whole incident of being caught by Satoru,” you pointed out to him, feeling the slightest bit smug when he looked chagrined. 

“I apologized for that,” he reminded you, his voice tone faintly defensive. You squeezed his hand in comfort. 

“You did, and I’m not upset about it.” 

You took a deep breath and cast your eyes everywhere except Sukuna, taking in the details of your bathroom as you tried to muster the courage to share your insecurities with him. He never let his attention on you deviate, and between that and the heat of the water you had been in for almost two hours, you were beginning to feel lightheaded, and everything finally came rushing out of your mouth.

“I feel like we’re mismatched! It feels like everytime someone looks at us, they’re going to wonder why, like we don’t fit well together. And I’m not saying I believe that, or that you would believe that, and I know this whole thing sounds ridiculous because it is ridiculous, but it’s hard to get outside of my own head about this when I already love you so mu—,” 

The startled look on Sukuna’s face is what clued you in to the fact you had said something you had not intended to. You snapped your mouth shut with an audible click of your teeth and used your feet to push away from him and to the otherside of the tub, wrenching your hands out of his grasp. 

If someone asked why you never liked to talk about your feelings, this was why. Why the words that came out were never as eloquent—or as sane—as the thoughts in your head was something you’d pay so much money to figure out. And Kento was about to have no choice in letting you hide out with him for the rest of his vacation because you were no longer asking, and if he was interested in keeping his job he would do so without complaint. Even so, you considered that forcibly releasing Kento from the grip of a career that was so wrought with overtime would be another mercy for the overworked sal—,

“You know what I think,” Sukuna murmured, bringing you out of your own head to focus with rapt attention on the blissfully contented expression he wore. His fingers curled around the tops of your arms as he reached out to slide you back to his side of the tub, and when you were close enough again, he pushed his nose into the plushness of your cheek to nuzzle there affectionately. You were transfixed by a small tan freckle on the edge of his eyebrow that you somehow hadn’t noticed before.

“I think this whole time you’ve been so focused on pleasing everyone around you—which isn’t necessarily unadmirable, I promise—and treading with extreme care to take into consideration my feelings about our relationship that you haven’t noticed what’s been going on…or I haven’t been doing a very satisfactory job of making it apparent.” 

He said the last part more under his breath, but didn’t give you a chance to interject with an objection before he carried on, making intently sure your eyes were on his. “From the very beginning, even when all I had of you were fleeting touches and secret meetings in questionable places, I was always bound to fall in love with you.” 

You didn’t know what to say, what to think, and trying to wrap your head around the fact that what you considered to be one of the worst days of your life was ending with unintentional confessions of love in your bathtub wasn’t helping. So you did what you could and traced a finger down one of the tattoos under his eyes, hoping he would keep talking.

“We aren’t a mismatched pair,” he insisted, his eyelids fluttering slightly at your gentle touch, “I think we compliment each other quite well, so please, don’t try to hide or run away.” He fixed you with a pointed look that told you Toji had warned him of your current status as a flight risk, and you ducked your head slightly and in a way that you hope conveyed repentance.  

“Because you must know, I will always be chasing after you.”

You wasted no time in hurrying to crush your lips against his and throw your arms around his neck, because what else was there to do when words couldn’t suffice, other than to surrender to the melding of bodies? 

Sukuna reciprocated in fervor, breaking apart from you only to stand up from his place on his knees, and reached down to cup his hands under your bottom, lifting you out of the tub and securing your thighs around his hips while his mouth found yours again.

He seemed to care not that you were dripping water on the floor and soaking the front of his clothes from where you were pressed tightly against him. He stumbled back a couple steps until the back of his knees made contact with the chaise, and the two of you fell back onto it. Sukuna adjusted you to straddle his lap, his hands clasping at your hips while your hands scrambled down his back to pull up his shirt. You ground your pelvis down against him as he dropped his head to mouth at your neck, and the rough groan that elicited from his throat had you deciding that your bed was too far away to justify taking time to separate, and that the convenience of the chaise was worth going to the trouble of having to buy Toji a new one. You had no more than let the thought flutter through your head when an obnoxiously loud knock resounded through the bathroom. 

“You two haven’t drowned yet, have you?” 

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. 

Sukuna ripped his lips away from where he was sucking a mark into the space where your shoulder blended into your neck, and met your gaze with one that dared you to intervene. 

“Don’t even think about it,” he growled, using the grip he still had on your waist to hold you in place while he rolled his hips up into yours, and you prayed that the moan you let out wasn’t as loud as it sounded. Even if it was, you hoped Toji would get the hint and make himself scarce.

“Look, I get it,” your bodyguard remarked, sounding both amused and vaguely uncomfortable, “but it’s kinda, maybe important.” 

With both the mood dashed and your anxiety spiked again, you patted Sukuna on the shoulder in a bid to get him to let you slide off his lap. He rolled his eyes, exasperation—and lustful desperation—painted clearly on his face, but he helped you down without giving you any grief and grabbed a black fluffy robe from where it was draped over your privacy screen. He held it out so you could thread your arms through it, and then he proceeded to tie the belt securely around your waist. 

“Come in, Toji,” you called, moving to sit on the chaise while Sukuna came to stand at your back.

Your bodyguard waited a moment before opening the door, peeking his head around first and then sauntering in with his normal arrogance to lean against your bathroom counter just a couple feet in front of you.

“Glad to see that nobody’s drowned. There’s only one of you I’d be willing to do mouth-to-mouth on,” Toji joked, clearly proud of what he had come up with. You felt Sukuna’s hands come to rest on the tops of your shoulders, his fingertips digging into the muscles lightly. They relaxed when you bought one of your hands up to twine your fingers with his. 

“So, to what do we owe the interruption?” you asked. The amusement on Toji’s face vanished, and in its place came weariness. 

“I just got off the phone with Nanami, and—,” 

“You called him?!” You yelped, springing up from your seat, “I begged you not to!”

“Whoa, Whoa,” Toji cautioned, raising his hands up in a surrender, “easy with the accusations. He called me. He knew.” And before you could open your mouth to ask how, Toji’s expression darkened and his eyes flicked up over you to glare at Sukuna. “Uraume called him.” 

You whirled around to look at Sukuna, who—thankfully—seemed just as surprised by the news as you did. 

“I didn’t ask them to do that,” he assured you, then turned to Toji, “did Nanami say what they wanted?” 

“Just to talk about the whole situation, more or less. Nanami said they only talked for about ten minutes, but they’re planning to discuss things more when he comes back in five or six days.” Your bodyguard sighed and crossed his legs as he leaned back further against your counter. “He was nearly ready to hop on the first plane home, but I managed to convince him to finish his vacation. Told him it’d damn near break your heart if he came back early.” 

You plopped back down on the chaise, bone tired and completely ready for this whole day to be over. 

“Thank you, Toji. I’m sorry for jumping down your throat like that.” 

“Don’t sweat it, Princess,” he said, pulling a vaguely familiar set of keys out from his pocket and pushing himself off the counter to walk towards the door. “You two going to be okay if I head out? I have some errands to run and then I’ll probably crash at Megumi’s tonight instead of the staff quarters.” 

You nodded at him, sending him off with a wave before shifting to look back at Sukuna. 

“Stay with me?” you pleaded. He answered with a kiss to your hair, and then offered his arm so you could stand from the chaise. He followed after you into your bedroom, and the faint flutter of clothing made you glance back over your shoulder. Your heart began to race at the sight of his bare chest, tattoos displayed in full glory. You must have made some kind of noise because he looked up at you from where he was draping his shirt over the back of a lounging chair in the corner of your room.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he said sheepishly, “my clothes are wet.” 

You shook your head, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth as you watched the muscles in his back flex as he bent down to push his jeans to the floor, leaving him in simple grey underwear. There must have been something written all over your face as he began to walk towards you, for he was reaching out to pull you into him as soon as he got close enough.

“I’m tired, Sukuna,” you warned as he pressed your cheek to his chest, though you wondered if you could muster up the energy to continue where the two of you had left off in the bathroom. Surely he would make it worth your while. 

“I know,” he told you, voice light and good-natured, and he tightened his arms around you briefly before stepping back and nodding in the direction of your bed, “why don’t you go get comfortable. Toji left your snacks on your dresser. Want to finish them off before bed?” 

With a grateful nod, you turned to leap onto your bed, sitting down in the middle and wiggling with excitement as Sukuna came to join you. He sat the tray of food and wine in between the two of you and crossed his legs underneath himself before picking up a piece of cheese and offering it to you. You smiled in thanks and began to nibble on it while he surveyed his options. 

“Mhm,” you started, an errant thought popping into your head, “I’m assuming since Uraume knows that Yuji and Choso know now as well?” Sukuna raised his head slowly from where he had been studying the various snacks, and the hint of guilt on his face wasn’t confidence inspiring. 

“They do,” he drew out, observing you carefully, “they were both watching the interview with me.” 

You groaned as white-hot embarrassment flooded your body, and you fell back against your pillows, grabbing one to shove over your face to muffle the bitter laughter you couldn’t control. “What do they think?” 

“It’s nothing you should be worrying about,” Sukuna said, suddenly sitting by your head and lifting the pillow off your face to set it above your head, “you know they adore you. Choso was his normal, level-headed self. He’s happy for us. Yuji was just as ecstatic once he got his laughter under control, if a bit disappointed that we hadn’t told him.” Your boyfriend paused, his face darkening suddenly, and you watched with interest as a muscle feathered in his jaw. 

“What?” you asked, pushing yourself back into a sitting position and poking him in the arm to urge him to explain. He shook his head, clearly annoyed.

“You know what that little shit said immediately after? He thought that you and Gojo had been secretly dating and were waiting till after your movie was over to say anything.” 

Obnoxious laughter erupted from you, and you hurried to slap your hands over your mouth to try to conceal it as Sukuna’s face fell. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you rasped out in between giggles, unable to stop it as you watched Sukuna sit back against your pillows with a huff and a crossing of his arms. 

“The little idiot is just dense. And delusional. Anyone could see that you and the q-tip don’t have any real chemistry.” He sounded an awful lot like he was trying to convince himself of the truthfulness of his own statement. You wondered, affectionately, at which brother was a touch deluded. You were a fine actor, thank you very much. And you were about to open your mouth and say so when something ‘plinked’ off the window next to your bed. 

Strange. Your bedroom was on the second floor. 

Sukuna jerked his head up, all traces of humor forgotten, and the two of you listened for the noise again. 

Plink. 

“What the hell,” he muttered, pushing off the bed so he could go inspect the noise, “stay right there.” 

You appreciated the concern in his voice as he began to lift the window pane open, and he had just begun to stick his head out to look around when something small smacked him right between the eyes, sending him butt-first to the floor. 

“Sukuna!” you gasped, rushing over to kneel by his side and lift his hand from where he had it pressed to his forehead. You didn’t get a chance to fawn over him any further before he was up on his feet and striding to your bedroom door. 

“Be right back,” he growled, throwing the door open and cursing all the way down the stairs. 

You heard something land next to you on the floor, utterly perplexed when it turned out to be a rock from your flower beds. You got up and tiptoed over to the window, just barely lifting your head over the pane as to avoid becoming another victim of a flying projectile, then shot to your feet when you caught sight of a familiar white-haired costar outside beneath your window.

“Satoru!” You screeched, dumbfounded by his mere presence and the way he waved up at you, completely unbothered, “How in the world did you get through the gate?!”

“Hey! There you are!” He called, with a lazy grin on his face, “that’s not really important right now.” 

“I would disagree!” You yelled back down to him, making a mental note to have Toji go over all the security points around your property after his day off. “What are you doing here?” 

Satoru laughed sarcastically before the smile on his face suddenly disappeared, and he propped his hands up on his hips. “Where is my car?” 

No. Way. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Satoru.” 

“Nope! Give me back my car. It’s one of a kind!” 

You groaned, reaching up to massage the burgeoning headache you could feel at your temples. “Are you sure it’s not out there in the driveway? Toji left just a bit ago, so you shouldn’t be boxed in or—,” you cut off when the memory of your bodyguard twirling an unfamiliar set of his keys around his finger as he left your bathroom flashed across your memory.

Oh god, that absolute bastard. 

Satoru must have caught the horrified look on your face, as well as how you suddenly stopped talking after mentioning Toji because his face blanched even paler than usual, and his voice was two octaves higher in distress when he hollered back up at you.

“Does that criminal have my car?!” 

You deserved a vacation at this point. 

“I’ll call him in the morning, Satoru, I promise. And I’ll make sure he washes it for you or whatever you want, just come back tomorrow.” You hoped placating him with the prospect of torturing Toji would convince him to leave, but no, he still stood rooted to his spot down below. 

“As fun as that sounds,” he mocked back up at you, “I can’t.” 

“What do you mean you can’t?”

He looked a bit like a toddler caught with his hand somewhere it shouldn’t be. “Suguru dropped me off and then left in a hurry. He said he had something to do.” 

You couldn’t believe that the universe thought that pairing those two together in any capacity was worth the absolute chaos they unleashed on the poor, unsuspecting population. 

The slamming of your front door caught your attention, and you figured your boyfriend was about to make himself known.

“Look,” you sighed, backing away from the window slightly, “you can borrow one of my cars and swap it tomorrow when Toji brings yours.” You ignored Satoru’s protests and started to close the window. “Just apologize to Sukuna for hitting him between the eyes with a rock and he’ll open the garage for you.”

You caught the confusion on Satoru’s face, and just barely heard his panicked remark as you shut the window.

“Oh, fu—.”

-------------------------------------------------------------

Whew, that one took it out of me, not gonna lie. Angst and I are not friends.

[i2sunric]

𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 (p.js)

pairing: doctor!jay x reader (f)

summary: you’ve always thought dating a doctor was hot until you started realising his job was taking your place— but don’t worry, being a doctor meant jay could always stitch your broken heart up!

warnings: fluff (like, 3am typa fluff), early 2000s au, childhood friends to lovers but they’re already lovers, angst (with comfort) cuddling and kissing, a little suggestive (no smut), they grow up together (narration starts from 18), mentions of stress and fainting, mentions of pregnancy, fighting, if more lmk. NOT PROOFREAD.

published: 29th April 2024

wc: 10.5k (longer than i intended ;-;)

tag list: @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @heelvsted @wtfhyuck @kim2005bomi @luvpjs7 @sundoie @sunghours @anittamaxwynnn

It was the last summer of a enior year at high school, the year that everyone would choose what path to undertake, the life they wanted to live, the job they wanted to get.

As scary as it sounded, you didn’t want to think about it yet, just to focus on living your last summer as a teenager before adulthood kicked in with all its difficulties and challenges.

You were laying on the bed at Jay’s holiday cottage at the lake, the temperature of the afternoon was too hot to let you stay outside, so you seeked some escape from the humidity in his bedroom. The grids were only slightly open to let some sun rays enter the room, just enough not to turn on the light.

You were reading a pook, wearing only a dump swimming suit and a pair of jeans shorts, you drenched the sheets but you knew it would be perfectly dry by the evening, so you didn’t really care.

Jay laid on the other side of the bed, your feet beside his head as he studied an anatomy book. You had a clue on how difficult it was to enter the medicine faculty, but seeing your boyfriend giving up his whole summer just to bury his nose in those headache-bringers books made you feel sympathy for all the doctors.

The book in your hand had become boring five minutes before so you just closed it, letting it rest on your chest. You nudged Jay’s arm with your foot “I’m bored.” You let out a small sigh

He looked up from his study material and gave you a soft smile before reaching out to pat your ankle. "I know you're bored, baby. But I'm only an hour away from finishing this.” Jay gave you a reassuring smile

“After I’m done we could go outside and sail the small boat?” A couple of minutes of silence passed and he was ready to you making a fuss about how boring and dull studying was until you said “Or maybe I can help you with your studies?”

"You sure that you wouldn't mind helping me with my studies?" He replied, raising his eyebrows. He let go of your ankle, but he quickly pulled you by your knees while you were curled up on his bed and laid you on top of his lap instead, so now you were using his body as a mattress.

“I’m not as smart as you,” You murmured, snuggling comfortably on his chest as he placed the book in front of both your faces. The amount of latin and difficult words made you close your eyes right away “I’ll just flip the pages when you need.”

Jay let out a low chuckle and pressed a featherlight kiss on your head. It was a small team game, he tried to involve you in his studies, making you ask him some questions to know if he had said it right.

You felt a warm sense of pride in your chest to know that your boyfriend was working so hard for the sake of his dream. You flipped to a page that had a big skeleton drawing on it, beside it there was a man with all the muscles without skin.

You scrunched your nose at the amount of names all the bones and muscled had “You memorised all those names?”

“Not as easily as others do," He confessed, letting out an audible sigh as he caressed your head. "I find it easier when I explain the answers to someone who's willing to listen."

You looked up to his face, your eyes shining with endless love “I’m always willing.”

Jay gave you a sheepish smile, hooking one arm under your knee to intertwine both your legs together. He squeezed your hip in response and you two resumed studying together.

After around fifteen minutes, you started to become bored again. All those letters made your eyes feel heavy, you blinked them a few times “Are you done yet?”

He chuckled softly as he shook his head from side to side. "I still have to memorise more chapters," He sighed, looking up at you with an apologetic grin.

Despite his efforts, it was clear that he was having troubles memorising the contents of the page, and even he knew he was going to be up for quite a while more.

You caressed his chest, feeling the heat radiating from his body even under the white sleeveless shirt he was wearing.

You toyed the necklace you had given him for his fifteenth birthday in your fingers, the same jewel he had sworn to never take off “What are you studying now?”

He raised his eyebrows and looked down at you, smiling as he watched you play with the necklace. "Right now I'm studying about different body systems and conditions, the respiratory system." he said, looking back down at you

You laid your ear on his chest and he fell silent, you tried to hear his breath and commented with a forced funny voice “Your lungs function well.”

“I guess they do.” Jay chuckled, rubbing your back as he continued to study.

The room fell silent once again but your head was full of thoughts.

You started thinking about your future, you pictured yourself in different situations or workplaces but none of them seemed good enough. Or maybe it was you not good enough.

"You know, it's admirable that you already know what you want to be in the future..." You murmured, snuggling closer to him.

The corners of his lips spread into a small smile as he heard your compliment. "Is it admirable for someone my age?" He asked softly, brushing your hair out of your face

“Uh uh,” You hummed, flipping another page for him “I don’t know what I want to be,” You confessed quietly “I don’t see myself anywhere.”

Jay raised his eyebrows as he stopped studying for a long moment to give you his whole attention.

He then looked down at you and lifted your chin to face him. "Are you really unsure about what you want to be in the future?" He asked, his eyes searching for yours.

Your eyes met his deep brown once, and you shook your head, feeling vulnerable. “No, I don’t.” You sighed softly “My mother… My mother wants me to go to some sort of job counsellor.”

Jay let go of your chin to caress your back again “That’s a great idea, actually.” He encouraged, smiling gently. “I mean, it’s better to ask for help now than choosing something you don’t want to do… ain’t it?”

You hummed, dropping your head on his chest “I guess so.” Your tone went quiet and he had been with you enough to know you didn’t want to discuss that topic anymore.

A few minutes passed by and your yawn caught Jay’s attention. He caressed your head, letting his hand run through your hair “You should get some sleep, Y/N.”

“And who’s gonna flip your pages?” You asked, your tone sleepy and your eyes clearly fighting to stay open

He chuckled, placing an incredibly soft feather-like kiss on your nose “I can flip them myself, you look like you’re going to pass out from your tiredness.”

“I guess I could.” You rested your head more comfortably on his chest and closed your eyes. “But when I wake up you better be done studying.”

Jay nodded “Alright baby.” He smiled, watching as you drifted off to sleep right there in his arms. At moments like that, he thought he was the luckiest man alive to have you— and he planned to never love you.

⪩⪨

College years had arrived and to no one’s surprise, you and Jay were still a couple. Seriously, you two loved each other too much to stay away from the other, even with your busy schedules.

You were laying on the lower bunk bed in his dorm. His roommates were out for dinner and left the whole house for you two. And obviously, what was Jay doing instead of spending time with you? Studying.

You acted like you didn’t really mind, flipping through the pages of a magazine. But seeing his back facing you, his hand moving as he was scribbling things on his notebook— you couldn’t help but feel sorrow.

“Are you going to study the whole night?” You asked quietly, not wanting to sound rude as you rolled on your wide to face him.

Jay raised his brows and finally turned around to look at you. His face was tired, pronounced dark circles under his eyes and he had probably skipped his self care routine for a few days. That didn’t make him less attractive, though.

“Pretty much,” He replied “I’m kind of behind on a lot of study materials.”

“Oh.” You nodded, shifting again to face the mattress of the other bed on top of Jay’s. He took in your bored expression and grimaced “You know you don’t have to stay here while I study, right?”

“But we don’t have time to spend together apart for some evenings,” You stated, looking back at him with a pout.

He chuckled softly, letting out a quiet sigh before closing his study materials and walking over to the bed. He climbed in beside you so he was under the covers with you. He then pulled you in and cuddled you tightly. "I know," He murmured, squeezing you a little tighter “I know baby.”

You rested your forehead on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I don't want to disturb you.”

Jay laughed quietly as he kissed the top of your head. "You're not disturbing me in the slightest bit, so don't apologise,"

He said, running his hand through your hair gently. "I honestly don't mind having you beside me while I study." And you knew that, but sometimes you felt as if you were just an element of disturbance in his daily life.

It all started when you saw him fall into a deep slumber anytime he sneaked in your dorm, like he hadn’t closed eye for weeks; then how he’d always find a way to escape your dates to review a few materials and like now, when he’d study with only you in the room.

You knew he didn’t do it on purpose, he was just trying to survive college, and you felt guilty to have such resentment.

You looked up at him from his shoulder “I just… miss you nowadays.”

His eyes instantly softened "I miss you too.” He sighed “I know I’ve been studying a lot more lately, and I understand if you feel like I'm not spending enough time with you," He admitted.

“And I understand that you’re busy,” You acknowledged “You always work so hard for your degree.”

Jay smiled sadly and rubbed your arm up and down "I know I study like crazy, but it's because all of these things matter so much in the future.” He started explaining “It means that I'll be able to have a more secure job and..." he sighed again and paused before continuing “And i wouldn't have done this if I knew I couldn't spend time with you."

Your brows knitted “Don’t say that.” You raised your head so you could look into his eyes.

“You’ve been wanting to be a doctor since we were kids, Jay, And—“ Your voice cracked a little “I can’t guarantee we’ll be forever together, but you’ll always have a stable job with the degree you’re studying for.”

Jay nodded “I know that too…” He rubbed his temples, frustrated “I just wish I could spend more time with you.”

You smiled and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek “It’s okay, when exams season is over we’ll go on a small vacation, sounds good?”

He chuckled softly, wrapping his arms tightly around your body while pulling you closer towards him. "Sounds nice." he murmured, planting gentle kisses on your forehead “Although…”

You asked in a quiet voice "Although?" Jay looked away, “I still have a big exam coming up next month," He confessed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't know how well I’m going to do, honestly."

“Oh,” You gulped, blinking “And why do you think so?”

Jay gave you a half-smile "I Just feel like I'm not studying enough. The material i need to memorise.. It’s so much— I'm worried that I won't be able to remember most of it when the time comes."

You stayed silent for a few beats, trying to find any solution to help him “Maybe we should do a no-contract month?”

It took him a moment to process what you said "A no contact… month?" Jay repeated, looking away at the wall "Do you mean.. as in no contact with each other? For the entire month?"

You nodded slowly, not sounding sure of your own choice “So you don’t have any distraction and can concentrate on your classes?”

He raised his eyebrows, letting out a long and steady breath before speaking. "I understand it might help me with my studies, but.." Jay looked away from you again, unsure "Don't you think it's a bit too extreme?"

You fidgeted with the blanket, looking down “I know..”

“I mean... it seems pretty extreme." His fingertips then began to massage his temples. "You're right though, I do get pretty distracted when we're together, and my studies have been lacking because of that."

You tried to mask the pain you felt in your heart with a small smile “It’s just a month.”

Jay couldn't help but frown at the idea of not talking to you or seeing you for an entire month. "Yeah, but—" he started, but then suddenly realised. "Wait, does this no-contact month also mean that we can't meet either?"

“People usually do it after a break up, but we can do it just to focus on college. It’s like we’re off but we aren’t, we just don’t talk to each other for a month.” You exclaimed, nodding

He bit his bottom lip “We really can’t meet for a whole month? At all?”

“Baby, listen,” You caressed his cheek, propping yourself up on your elbows. “I don’t like this either, but it’s for the best?” You asked “I don’t want to get in your way.”

He sighed once again “You’ll never get in my way, never say that.” He then slowly nodded his head.

"I completely understand your point, but...it just feels way too bizarre.” His brows were furrowed. “I mean, we're used to talking every day, for us to stop talking for an entire month, it's just..." His words trailed off as he sighed and looked away.

You moved some hair away from his forehead “Just until your next exam.” You said “I’ll work my part time job, save some money and we’ll rent somewhere for a week, just us.”

Jay looked at you, worry painted all over his face “And you’re sure you’re completely okay with doing this?” You gulped down “No,” You whispered “But I’ll have to.”

He seemed to debate your suggestion, silence filling the room. After a couple of minutes, he caressed your cheek “Fine, I guess it's what's best for the both of us right now." He murmured.

“Just stay with me tonight,” You begged, “We’ll start tomorrow.”

His heart broke a little at your wobbling bottom lip “Let’s make the most of the night, my roommates will be back in early morning anyways.” Jay was still surprised you suggested that weird break, and he was even more stunned he had accepted.

You took his face in your hands, bringing him in for a kiss. “I love you.” You murmured on his lips.

Jay softly smiled against your mouth before he kissed you back, wrapping his arms tightly around your body as he started to pull you into him. His arms squeezed you more as he deepened the kiss a bit more, letting out a soft groan into your mouth. "I love you more.”

“No, I love you more.” You stated. He smirked and shifted position so he was now on top of you, resting his weight on his elbow not to crash you down “Bet?”

His hand cupped your cheek before slowly sliding down on your chest. You gasped since it was cold. “Jay… someone might hear us.”

“I don't care,” Jay shook his head, his tone breathless. His mouth claimed yours once again, full of unspoken but mutual feelings “Be mine for the night.”

“I’m always yours.” You said, letting him do anything he wanted, knowing you had made an oath to never leave his side.

⪩⪨

Finally, college had almost finished and it was the last day before university. Anyone would’ve been on cloud 9 but you felt a pang of sadness. It meant you and Jay had to part ways, the university he had chosen was in the big city, five hours away from your hometown.

You waited for him outside the graduation hall, seeing groups of overjoyed students throwing their hats in the air.

Jay came out of the room, rushing after having read your message. He wore his graduation gown and looked ever so perfect.

He saw you, a bright smile immediately appeared on his face as he started to walk to you.

He was incredibly nervous about leaving for college and it showed on his face as he approached you, but seeing you there made everything else seem a bit less threatening.

He finally reached you, wrapping his arms around your waist. "You came," he said softly, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

You hugged his chest and whispered “How could I not?” Jay squeezed you back as he grinned, "I'm glad that you did, but I was already sure you would.”

He gave you a quick kiss on the cheek “You never miss a single big milestone of mine.”

“I’m afraid you’re stuck with me, doc.” You teased him with the nickname, but your teary eyes gave away your true feelings.

“This year has gone by so fast.” He murmured, caressing the back of your neck "And of course I’m stuck with you. I wouldn't have it any other way." His smile was so gentle it made you fall for him over and over again.

But the grin on his face disappeared as quickly as it appeared, making you frown “What’s wrong?”

Jay shook his head, “I’m just worried about us now since we'll have to do long distance."

Your lips trembled but you still managed to let your words out “We’ll be okay, right?”

His heart sank as he noticed your trembling lips. He gently squeezed you and gave you a small, reassuring smile. "Of course we'll be okay. If anyone's going to make long distance work, it's the both of us.”

Jay caressed your cheek with his thumb “I believe in us, and I’m going to come back as often as I can so we have time together. It'll be okay."

“Right,” You forced out a smile “We’ll make it work.”

“I’ll be back for summer, we can always go to the lake cottage,” Jay reassured, knowing you’ve always loved your summer trips to his holiday house

“And whenever we have a holiday—" He muttered, a small frown appearing on his face when he realised that you wouldn't be able to see each other as often as they used to.

You couldn’t hold it anymore and a few tears fell down your cheeks, you sniffled “Of course.”

His eyes widened when he noticed you were crying "Hey... hey, hey, hey," He murmured softly, wiping away your tears with his thumb. "Don't cry right now, everything's going to be okay, mh?”

“I’m sorry,” You shook your head, smiling with sad eyes “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

Jay’s face contorted into a painful expression, his heart pounding heavily in his chest.

He had always hated seeing you crying, but knowing that he was the reason behind your tears made his stomach close. “You know that I'm going to miss you just as much as you'll miss me once we're long distance, right?" He asked.

You chuckled and nodded, sniffling once again “I’ll be here waiting for you, Jay.”

"I'll be back for you every chance I get," He promised, squeezing you a bit tightly.

"Remember to keep in touch constantly, alright? No matter how busy we are, let's always make time for each other over the phone." Jay took out his phone from the pocket. “I bought this new Nokia only for you.”

You smiled widely and showed him your phone, a Nokia of the same type just in a pinkish colour “I bought this for you too.”

Jay pulled your face close to his chest, caressing your head and hair in a gentle manner, just like he always did.

He never failed to make you fall for him with every small action, treating you as if you were worth it. And to him, you were worth every fight, every difficulty coming with relationships. He’d endure it all just to be with you.

“I’m sorry,” You took a deep breath, trying not to let your voice shake. “I didn’t even congratulate you.” You smiled widely, “I’m so proud of you, baby. I really am.”

Jay hadn’t realised how much he needed to hear that until he did.

“Thank you. Seriously, thank you, for always being by my side.” He placed a featherlight kiss on your forehead "You know, since it was your graduation today as well... Maybe I should give you a graduation present.” He trailed off “I actually have a surprise for you, if you would like it."

Your brows shot up in surprise “You do?” Jay nodded and motioned you to wait.

He battled a little with his gown before retrieving a tiny velvet box from the pocket “Here you go, baby.” Your eyes scanned it, “What is it?”

Jay bit his bottom lip to hide his smile “Open it.” He held it out for you to take. You gave him a small stare before opening the small box, revealing two couple rings.

Inside there was also a note that said ‘One day you'll get the wedding ones.’ Your breath hitched.

He smirked as he watched the expression on your face change, becoming incredibly surprised and even a bit teary-eyed as you opened the box.

His eyes softened as he glanced down at the rings “I know they're not the actual wedding bands and it'll take a while until we get to that point... but I wanted to give you these as a symbolic gesture of me promising that we'll be married someday."

You mumbled nonsense for a few seconds, happy tears rolling down your cheeks as you felt overwhelmed by his sudden actions “I love them, I love them so much— I love you.” You blurted out.

Jay held you against his chest as you both embraced each other. "I love you too," He whispered, burying his head into your hair. "I love you so much."

“Oh lord,” You stumbled a little back to look at the rings once again “How much did you pay— They look so precious.”

“Don’t mind that,” Jay wiped the remaining tear stains “You’re worth it, so very worth it.” He tucked your hair behind your ear “And you’re right, they’re precious. Like you.”

You rolled your eyes and hid your face in the crook of his neck “You’re so romantic.” Jay planted a small kiss on your head “You like it when I’m romantic.”

You stayed like that for a few more minutes, just melting into each other’s embrace.

You then sniffled and took one ring out of the small box “Doc, would you mind giving me your right hand?” He chuckled and held his hand out for you “Not at all.”

Jay smiled back as he let you place the ring on his finger, his heart instantly warming up when he realised how real this all really is.

He was finally going to be able to say that he was officially engaged, that he was soon going to be married to you. Jay looked down at the ring as you finished and his eyes started to tear up a bit.

"Thanks," his voice barely came out of his throat, but he was still able to softly smile.

You then gave him the small box and held out your hand for him. He gently squeezed your hand “Shall i?" He asked as he motioned towards your finger, wanting to put the other ring on it.

“Please, do.” You whispered, the anticipation killing you.

Jay carefully took out the ring and looked it over for a couple of seconds.

He then slipped the ring on your finger very slowly, making sure that it was fitted well “It fits perfectly.” He commented, kissing your knuckles, barely brushing his lips on them, like a true gentleman.

You sniffled again and let out a euphoric chuckle before wrapping your arms around his neck, pressing your lips on his, never wanting to get away from that boy.

The moment you kissed him, his arms tightened around you, not wanting to let go of you ever again.

He had never felt this way before until you came into his life, back in third grade. He had truly felt complete, that he had finally found the person he would spend the rest of his life with. “I want you always," he mumbled softly between the kisses.

“I want you forever,” You murmured back with the same sincerity. He kissed your lips once more, needing to fill his nostrils with your sweet scent, his mouth with the taste of you before he had to move away for five years.

⪩⪨

A couple of years passed and between ups and downs, you and Jay were still strong. Long distance was difficult, you couldn’t lie, but keeping yourself busy with your small café and meeting whenever you two had free time was enough for you. Besides, you could still call with your matching Nokias.

Which was your plan for that afternoon, you sat down on a table at your café and dialled his number, mindlessly playing with the ring on your finger as you waited for him to pick up, hoping it wouldn’t go to voice mails.

One the call reached Jay, he smiled as he recognized your number on screen, picking it up immediately. It had been some time since you both had called each other, so hearing your voice brought a smile to his face before he opened his mouth and greeted you. "Hi, babe.”

“Hey,” You whispered, relief evident in your tone “Am I calling in a bad moment?” You asked, hearing chatterings from the other line.

“No, no, not at all.” He sat down on a bench outside his university building “What are you doing? Just working?”

“Yeah,” You sighed “But business hasn’t been going well nowadays.”

His heart instantly sank as he heard about how business hadn't been well. He wanted to be your support system always, even when he wasn't there physically as much as before. “Oh no… I mean, you're doing your best with it, right?"

“I guess I am.” You replied "No, you are." He quickly corrected you “Do you want me to come over so that we can talk about it? We can work on solutions or at least brainstorm."

You were quick to dismiss “No, don’t do five hours of train just for a small complaint of mine.”

Jay tried to recall in mind his schedules, he had finished lectures for that day, which meant he could come to you and then take the late evening train back to the city “Baby… Don’t tell me not to come over if you need me there.”

"I’m serious, Jay, it's okay," You murmured quietly "I just needed to hear your voice, if you have free time you should use it to rest."

The way that you cared for him made his heart beat fast. "I'll gladly come over," He said softly. "I have time to spare. plus.. if I come over, I can actually hug you and comfort you better than over the phone, can’t I?"

“You already came over three weeks ago.” You stated “I know, but like I said, I’d rather spend time with you than not.”

You dismissed him once again “I’m fine Jay, you don’t have to.”

“Babe, don’t tell me you’re fine if you’re not.” Jay pleaded “I don’t think you are, let me come over.”

You stayed silent a few beats “What about uni?” He knew you’d ask “I finished classes for today, I can come over for a few hours and then come back before classes tomorrow.”

You sighed, your voice cracking a little “I could really use one of your hugs.”

“Okay,” Jay breathed out “I’ll be there, wait for me at your café.”

Hating that he couldn’t teleport right to you, he hurried to the train station and waited, knowing you were going through a rough path.

You hardly ever asked for help, and Jay was sure whatever was going on had been haunting you for a while for you to call him in such a state.

After a few hours, the door of your café opened, making the small bell ring. You turned around and started saying “Welcom—“ When you realised it was your boyfriend.

Jay entered the cafe, his eyes instantly searched for you and his face lit up when he found you. It wasn’t hard, you were the only one there.

You were running towards him and he felt his whole heart melting. His arms were wide open and he smiled warmly, taking you into a warm embrace.

Jay immediately pulled you close to his chest, burying his head in your hair and breathing you in.

It had been three weeks since he last was at your side and the scent you had filled his lungs as he finally was this close to you again took him aback by how familiar and comforting it was.

You sobbed quietly, letting out all the tears you’d been holding as you hid your face in the crook of his neck, smelling the familiar scent of lavender of his clothes softener.

Your whole body quivering almost uncontrollably, and he knew you were hiding so much sadness behind those tears. “Shhh... shhh.. It'll be okay," He hissed softly, his voice calm and soothing as he kept whispering those same words to you over and over again.

You pulled away slightly, your whole face contorted in a frown “They want— They want to shut it down.”

Your sentence lacked context but he realised that your cafe was probably going to be closed down soon.

He didn't want your business to close, especially when he knew that it was your pride and joy. He pulled you back into his chest again, “It'll be okay. We'll figure something out.”

“It won’t!” You snapped, your voice breaking “It never does…”

Jay’s heart hurt even more as you shouted, your voice sounding so defeated and sad.

He didn't like the harsh reality you were facing and the fact that you would be going through this— Jay was supposed to protect you from the world, but he had neglected you for too long.

“Oh God—“ You blinked faintly, realisation hitting you “I didn’t know why I shouted, I’m sorry.”

The corner of his lips turned upwards briefly. "Hey, don't apologise for showing emotions." He gently dried your tears "It’s just... so frustrating to hear how you're losing something that you care about, that you've put so much effort in and that you're so passionate about."

You let out a bitter chuckle “It always goes this way.” Jay wanted to scold you for always thinking so low of yourself and never fighting, but he was in no position for that.

“I don’t know what to do,” You shook your head to emphasise your words “If it shuts down how will I pay the rent? I won’t have any money.”

Jay could feel you panic and didn’t want that stress and worry to get to you. "We'll figure something out," He said as he gently cupped your face and lifted it up so that you were staring at him. "We'll figure something out. You're not going to be in this alone, I promise."

You shook your head once more, sobbing “I’ll have to move back with my parents— we’ll be even further away.”

The possibility of you moving into your parents' home still made him feel sick. He wanted to keep you close to him and wanted to share a home with you.

He wanted to move in with you, not have you move back to your parents' house.

"Y/N, it's not going to come to that," He muttered softly, kissing your forehead. You sighed and let yourself go, your weight pressing on him “I’m just so tired.”

“Let me take some of that weight off you, baby,” Jay whispered “I’m here.”

You stayed silent a few beats, letting the mere presence of Jay put back the shattered pieces of your soul. “You just had five hours of train and all I did was complain.” You dried your tears with your thumb.

You showed him a faint smile “Sit, I’ll make you a cup of coffee.” He nodded and walked to the nearest table, sitting down.

You made him a cup of coffee and sat down on the chair opposite to him, smiling “It's on the house.”

He grinned softly as he took the cup, the smell of the coffee filling him with delight.

It was such a simple thing and yet it meant so much to him, given you made it. "Oh, so even though you're in a rough patch, your hospitality has not gone," he teased playfully before taking a sip.

“Call it boyfriend pass.” You winked at him. You then cleared your throat and fidgeted with the ring “How’s uni?”

Jay took another sip “Just uni, lectures… assignments here and there, many exams.” He trailed off “Just very busy.”

Your brows knitted in guilt “I’m so sorry you had to come here.” Jay took your hand in his, your rings tingling as they touched “You needed me, You needed comfort." He chuckled lightly. "And there's nowhere else I should have been other than here."

You answered with a smile and took your chair, scooting close to him. You put your head on his shoulder “Want me to stroke your hair for a bit?” He asked and you nodded “Please.”

Jay started stroking your hair, sipping the coffee with the other “How do you feel right now? Better?”

You chuckled “Less like a wreck.” A few minutes of silence followed until Jay asked “Are you scared of losing the café?”

"I feel like all the efforts I made weren't enough." You closed your eyes "I should've settled for a more stable job."

"But that would've made you so unhappy, you know?" he spoke softly. "Baby, I feel your enthusiasm every time you talk about your café, don’t regret something that made you happy.”

“What about you?" You raised my head and rested your chin on his shoulder to look at his face "Do you ever get so tired of studying you want to quit?"

"Sometimes," Jay admitted. “There were plenty of all night studying sessions that kept me up and made me question how I got to this point in life." He laughed, nudging your side playfully.

"But I would've never thought of quitting. I know it's going to pay off in the end." You hummed “Of course, You always work so hard.”

"And so do you," He whispered softly, squeezing your hand gently. "Sometimes I don't understand how you work at your cafe for so long and still have energy left to do other things... and sometimes I'm just worried about you overworking."

“You don’t push yourself too much right?” He asked, his voice laced with worry. Your sudden silence made him wonder if you were not telling him something.

“I fainted once.” You confessed. His grip tightened around your hand as he looked down at you, “You fainted? When? Why didn't you tell me about it?"

“Before Christmas break.” You whispered “It was exam season, I didn't want to distract you.”

It was in moments like those that Jay felt like giving everything up. Because why on earth would you think you were being a burden, a distraction to him when you literally fainted?

"No, no... you should have told me, even if I was busy. I would've come to you then." You sat up properly “I didn’t want you to.”

He was speechless for a minute, his mind trying to process what had happened. "Why wouldn't you want me to know? How could you go through it on your own?”

"Jay, Jay," You said, taking his face in my hands. "I'm grand, alright? I'm doing fine."

"I don't like that you hid something so serious from me," Jay muttered softly, his eyes meeting yours. "It's too important to hide from me."

“I know,” You nodded, letting go of his face “And I’m sorry.” Jay nodded at your apology “How did it happen?”

You sighed “I couldn’t afford to keep other workers so I had to run the café alone, I ran around and around and then I had a few other things.” You gulped down, recalling the moment “I went to bed feeling a little dizzy, I paid it no mind but the next morning as I woke up I fell flat on the floor.”

Jay’s whole world shuttered. He looked down to the floor, his jaw tense as he took in your words “You should’ve never ignored those signs, Y/N.” He called you by your name only when he was serious, his low voice sounding a little scary

“How could you—“ Jay took a sigh, trying to calm down “It could’ve been worse, something could have happened while you slept, you could’ve hit your head..” He looked as if he was on the verge of tears.

“Jay..” You murmured “I’m okay now, I know the risks I took, I was incoherent.” You took his hand in yours “It won’t happen again.”

“I should just transfer back here.” He got up from the chair, pacing around the room “I can take the train everyday to the city, I can do that, yeah.”

“No.” You stopped him “Jay, no.”

“Yes,” He turned around, facing you. His breath was heavy “Y/N, you— you could’ve died.”

“I didn’t.” You tried to soothe but even you felt like your efforts were worthless. “That doesn’t change the fact that I almost lost you— and I wasn’t even aware!” Jay looked like a maniac, his hands in his hair and his eyes bloodshot from frustration.

There was a moment where you both just stared into each other’s eyes, no words exchanged. Your eyes were full of regrets for having kept that from him and his were filled with the same emotion for not having taken care of you the way he should’ve.

“Don’t give up now, not for me.” You shook your head, slowly walking closer to him until you touched his forearm with your fingers, letting him know you were there. Breathing.

“You’re worth it.” Jay breathed out the same words he’d been repeating you, looking down at you, studying out features. His glance was so soft it almost hurt “Not this.” You shook your head.

Jay pulled you into a hug, so tight and full of emotions “Just three more years and we’ll be together.” He murmured “Just a little bit longer and we'll be able to share an apartment together. Just you and me."

You smiled on his chest, hugging him back “And we’ll get married.”

His entire face lit up with glee whenever you mentioned the idea of marriage, his finger swirled around the ring on your finger. “And we'll get married," He whispered softly, his eyes still focused on yours. "We'll finally be married and our families will finally stop asking us about our wedding plans," He laughed, the previous tension already forgotten

“Don’t even get started.” You laughed as well

"Yeah, for me it's my mom constantly bothering me with 'so when is it going to happen?'" He paused for a moment and cocked his head to the side playfully. "And for you? Is it your dad that's constantly bringing up the topic?"

You smiled and nodded “He’s afraid he’s going to die before he can walk me on the aisle.”

“That’s just a better incentive to wife you up.” Jay held your arms in his hands, gently rubbing them. You looked up at him and couldn’t help but cup his face, bringing your lips to him once more.

Jay’s eyes lit up the moment you kissed him. He let out a soft murmur, his lips responding to your kiss softly.

“I missed you,” You murmured between kisses “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” Jay responded, his lips travelling to the back of your head, tilting it to deepen the kiss “Only three years and you’ll be mine forever.”

“I think I’ve always been yours.”

⪩⪨

Another year had passed and New Year’s Eve came. A bummer that Jay could not come back to you those holidays because he had found a job to maintain his studies and was simultaneously studying for an extra course. After the small fight you had at the café (that shut down not long after) you two grew closer, if it was even possible.

Despite the long distance, you felt so connected to him. You dialled his number, feeling as you waited for him to answer.

Your phone beeped a bit before hearing his familiar tone on the other end. "Hey babe," His voice was as bright as ever “Did you miss me?"

“Hi,” You breathed out, sniffling due to the cold temperatures “I don’t miss you at all.” You teased

Jay’s brows furrowed slightly as he heard you sniffle. "Hey, are you okay? Are you sick?" He asked instantly with concern, ignoring your playful joke and wanting to make sure you were alright.

"I'm outside!" You explained happily, looking around at all the people inside the main square "Fireworks are nicer if you see them from here."

He let out a sigh of relief when he heard that. “Good. you gave me a bit of a scare there, babe. Are you enjoying yourself?” As expected, the soon-to-be doctor always worried for nothing.

“No, there are so many couples here," You joked "My boyfriend is so evil he didn’t even come to me."

Jay chuckled softly "Oh yeah? Just wait until I'm there. I'll make all those couples in the whole square jealous." He groaned, "Ugh, I can't believe I'm missing being with my girlfriend when we should be spending the new year together."

"I understand," Yoh reassured, looking up at the huge clock ticking close to the new year, a feeling of both nostalgia and excitement washing through you. "What are you doing now? Don’t tell me you’re studying".

“Well... you guessed it," He admitted softly, “...Studying. I have a final exam for my extra course coming up soon."

“No, Jay.” You said sadly “Not now.” His brows furrowed at your sudden change of tone and he asked “What’s wrong?”

You sighed “Can you drop your pen and walk to the window?”

Jay was caught off guard by the unexpected request. Though he had no reason to resist you, he set his pen and his open study books aside and stood up. He walked to his window.

"Three more minutes before the new year," You murmured "Look at the fireworks with me, the sky is only one so it makes me feel closer to you."

His eyes immediately turned to the outside, looking at the fireworks and the sky that was lit up by so many bright colors. It was breathtaking, and his eyes took it all in as he stood in the window, watching the sky as the time slowly ticked towards the new year.

He could almost imagine you right next to him, both of you watching the beautiful display together. "Yes," He whispered, “I can almost feel you right next to me."

“One more minute!” You squealed happily, earning a chuckle from your boyfriend.

Everyone started laughing and screaming, clapping their hands as the clock struck midnight, the sky lit up with more fireworks “Happy New Year, baby.” You told Jay and he said back the same words.

“Just one year and half until our big plan.” You stated, looking down at your ring.

“Just one year and half…” He repeated, a small smile displayed on his face

“We’ll be alright… Won’t we?” You asked, your voice quiet, barely audible with all the external noise. But Jay still heard you, he always did.

The question you asked was so simple, but it carried a lot of weight to it. "Yeah. We'll be okay, babe." His soft voice assured you of that. "Of course we will. We have always managed to find ways to deal with distance... we'll be fine."

You looked around and saw couples kissing and holding hands, spending that special time together. Feeling a bit overwhelmed, you stepped away from the square and back on the way to your apartment "Can you stay on the phone a little longer? Until I get home..."

“Of course baby,” Jay reassured, playing with the necklace he always wore. “I’ll stay on the phone as long as you need me.”

You started walking, your nose red and cheeks hurting from the cold weather “It’s so cold nowadays.” You commented.

"Hey... you're okay, right? Are you sure you'll be alright making your way home alone? Are you wearing enough layers?” Jay asked softly, his tone of concern obvious.

You chuckled at his words “Don’t act like my mother.”

He laughed along with you. "Sorry... I just— worry too much about you sometimes. you know?”

You nodded though he could not see you. “I know, but I'm grand here.” You hummed “I’m an independent woman.”

“That may be true,” Jay stated, his whole face shining from the light of the fireworks “But your boyfriend here is worried about your health, especially in this cold weather.”

"I’m about to reach home and then i'll take a warm shower and go to sleep," You murmured, placing your free hand in your pocket "You don't study until late night, ok?"

"Well..." His voice was playful "No promises, a man's got to get good grades.” But your tone wasn’t “Please Jay… At least not today.”

“Okay, alright.” He knew you were just worried for him the same way he was for you “I’ll stop studying for tonight.”

“Promise?” You asked, “Promise.” He answered.

“Then, after you take a shower, can you stay on the phone for a while?” Jay’s voice was laced with vulnerability, the long distance taking a ton on him as well.

Your voice softened at his words “Of course baby,” You whispered “I’ll stay with you on the phone.”

“Hey, Y/N.” Jay murmured “Yes?” You said, fiddling with the keys.

“I love you.” You stopped moving for a moment, “I love you more.”

⪩⪨

Years passed by and vows were exchanged, Jay and you now happily lived together.

You still remembered that day when you got him at the train station, feeling all giddy to finally have the life you’ve always dreamt of with the only person you’ve ever loved.

You thought all your vicissitudes were over, that your many many years of patience had finally paid off— but no, because Jay’s traineeship was taking your place yet again.

Despite the fact that your apartment that once looked lifeless was now hosting a couple, it seemed as if it had lost its previous colours with your gloomy demeanour.

Jay spent all his day at the hospital, learning new things and trying to build a good relationship with his superiors.

And it’s not like you weren’t happy for him— No, you were overjoyed… but what about you?

Since you two became a couple, it felt as if you had spent all your life waiting for him, waiting for the life you two had promised to build together, but the only effort came from you. And now that you were married, the crack in your heart started to become a chasm.

Everything went downhill when, one day, you woke up yet again to an empty bed, the wrinkled sheets the only proof they Jay had spent the night there. He came back late and got out in the early morning— an endless circle that maybe he was used to when he was still a student.

But now Jay was your husband and you seeked all the things any wife wished for. Just some quality time would have been enough.

You got up from the bed and held your breath when you heard a noise coming from the living room. Quietly, you tiptoed to the bedroom door, peeking from the glimmer of the half-closed door.

A rather messed up Jay stomped around the house, in search of something. You got out of the door and walked inside the living room “Jay?” You asked

Without even greeting you, he just said “Where’s my spare gown?”

You blinked faintly, your mind still a little empty from sleeping “I don’t know.” Jay let out a deep groan “I told you to wash it the other day.”

“I still need to hang it with the laundry.” You replied, now remembering “You know I need it to work, Y/N.” His voice was low

“The other one?” You asked “Dirty,” He just mumbled, fumbling with some shirts “Hey! I had folded them neatly.”

“Fold them again.” Jay just answered “I need my gown, we have an important meeting today with the head doctors.”

“It’s dirty,” You stated “Just ask one of your colleagues to lend you one.”

“There’s my name on the gown.” He stopped and dropped the clothes on the floor. “I can’t talk to them while wearing someone else’s name.”

“Just cover it.” Jay rolled his eyes and let out a sigh, “I’m trying to help you.” You said, noticing his distressed behaviour.

“Well, you’re not.” He tsked, making you open your mouth in disbelief. Jay looked at you, raising a brow “What?”

“What?” You asked back with a frown “You just disrespect me and the work I do in our house and you ask ‘What’?” Your voice was dangerously low.

He gulped, glancing down at the discarded ironed clothes on the floor. He picked them up and placed them on the chair once again “Here.”

You let out a sigh and looked away. “Just take your dirty gown and go to your meeting.” You said harshly.

Jay ran a hand through his hair, frustrated “Listen Y/N— I didn’t mean to be so rude.” You still refused to meet his gaze.

“Please, love. Don’t get mad now.” He walked a step closer to you but you just backed away, making him frown “What’s wrong?”

“Everything.” You muttered, your eyes full of hurt now locking with his dark ones. His breath hitched as he took in your pained expression.

“W-Why?” He asked, genuinely confused, “If it’s because of this— I’m sorry, I’m just so stressed.”

“And I am tired.” You stated “I am tired of waking up to an empty bed and going to bed the same way, I am tired of spending all my holidays alone because of your work.”

You let out all the build frustration you had felt through the years “I am tired of waiting for you, Jay, when will all this end?”

Jay raised his hands to caress your arms but you stepped back again, not needing to break down now, but needing to set this straight.

“I know, I’ve been so busy lately.” You scoffed, “You’ve always been busy.”

“I’ve been waiting for you my whole life, Jay.” Your tone was shaky, “I’ve always supported you, since we were kids and even more after we became a couple. But I feel like I missed the most beautiful years of my life because of you.”

His breath sagged “Don’t say that..”

“But it’s the truth.” You stated “I said more ‘I miss you’s than ‘I love you’s in this relationship.”

“I—“ Jay’s bottom lip wobbled. “I’m sorry..”

You sighed, shaking your head. You then glanced up to the clock “It’s already eight, you’ll be late to your meeting.”

You turned around and were about to walk into the bathroom when Jay’s big and strong hands wrapped around your waist “I love you, Y/N.” He said, almost desperately.

You tried your best not to let your tears fall “I know,” You whispered “But maybe you love your job more.” You shrugged away from his embrace and locked yourself in the bathroom.

Jay tried to open the door but you had already turned the key, he helplessly knocked on it “Y/N, please, let’s talk this out.”

As much as you wanted it, your whole body and mind was drained from the constant feeling of sorrow you said in a quiet voice “Just go away, Jay.”

Yeah, he wasn’t going to do that. “Please, come out, let’s talk.” He pleaded

But you just dismissed him once again “I don’t know the things I’d say if we talked now.”

Jay knew he had messed up, really bad this time, and he wanted to make it right. To make it up.

How could he be so obvious to your pain? How could he have not noticed?

You had all the right to be mad at him, in fact, he deserved the slaps you should’ve given him. He deserved your anger, your resentment.

He wasn’t in his right mind that morning— Truth is, he hadn’t been for quite some time.

Traineeship was so exhausting, coming from a whole adulthood of self sacrifice and sabotage, he thought he was the only one suffering. Turned out you were as affected by his actions as him, if not even more.

Jay was so lost in thought he hadn’t even realised he had been typing the same word countless times in the report of the previous meeting. As much as he tried not to think about it, his mind kept drifting back to you.

One of his colleagues noticed his gloomy demeanour and sat on the chair in front of Jay’s desk, tapping his fingers on it “Hey there.” He waved a hand in front of his face.

“Not now, Jake.” Jay groaned, resting his face on his hand, his cheek slightly crushed against his palm “I’m not in the mood.”

“Damn man,” The doctor with the heavy australian accent commented “Who pissed in your cornflakes?”

Jay took a deep sigh, shaking his head “No one, I just am an emeritus douchebag.” Jake raised a playful brow, “Tell me something I don’t know?”

But the death glare he received from the other party made him nod in acknowledgment “Troubles in heaven?”

Jay frowned “How’d you know?” And Jake just smirked in response “You’re so obvious.”

He then leaned his elbows on the desk “Tell me everything.”

Jay tsked “Why should I?” And Jake clicked his tongue back “Dude, believe me, you’ll feel better after you confess your sins.”

“Why do you assume it’s my fault?” The Australian eyed him up and down “Is it not?”

Jay sighed heavily, running a hand on his face “I messed up really bad.”

He nodded, letting Jay know he was listening “Y/N… She’s the best thing that ever happened in my life,” He started “She is my first friend, my first love, my first kiss and time… It has always been her.” He smiled unconsciously.

“But I failed her, I think, I haven’t realised she’s been suffering in silence all these years.” Jay shook his head at himself.

“Does she regret your marriage?” Jay’s eyes widened at such a statement “God, I hope not.” But then he bit his bottom lip “I wouldn’t blame her if she did, though.”

Jake sighed “Listen man, I met Y/N only once or twice, but I see the way she looks at you.”

“How?” Jay asked “As if you were the only one in the whole world, and I mean it.”

“But maybe she doesn’t anymore,” Jay sighed softly “Maybe I lost her for real this time.”

Jake raised a brow, “You love her?” Jay looked at his colleague as if he had just offended him “I’ve always loved her and I always will.”

“Damn right!” Jake smirked, “Now, go tell her.” He shook his head, “I’m on duty.”

Jake sighed and turned the computer screen toward him, he opened a few types and typed on the keyboard and he turned towards him as well and then smiled victoriously “Not anymore.”

Jay glanced at the screen just to see his name had been replaced with Sim Jaeyun on the file with all the rounds “Why?”

Jake got up from the chair and patted his mate’s shoulder “Go get your wife back before it’s really too late.”

⪩⪨

“I’m coming home right now, I’m coming back to you and I’ll make sure you actually stay, both physically and mentally. I’m so sorry for everything baby, and I know this voice mail will probably find you in a desperate state and it breaks me to know I am the cause.” Sigh “I just hope you can forgive me, because I love you, definitely more than my job.”

You replayed Jay’s voice mail countless times, his voice breaking, clearly on the verge of tears. You sat down on the sofa, waiting anxiously for the front door to open, and when it did, you raised to your feet.

Jay rushed inside, almost stumbling as he took off his shoes and gown, discarding both of them on the floor. You both stared at each other, just taking in your presence “Hi.” You breathed out.

Before you could even comprehend what was happening, Jay’s arms wrapped around your body, your head pressed against his chest “Forgive me, love.” He whispered in your ear.

You pulled away, just enough to look inside his eyes “It’s okay—“ “It’s not.” He cut you out, “Don’t lie baby, not anymore.”

Jay’s deep, brown eyes were so sincere you felt your heart skip a few beats “I’ve been foolish, I didn’t realise your discontent for nine whole years. But I do now, I see all you sacrificed just to be with me. I see you.”

You smiled gently, looking up at him. He didn’t fail to notice the swelling and redness in your eyes “I see you too.” You whispered, placing one hand on his cheek.

“You saw me even before I saw myself.” Jay’s tone was gentle, he leaned on your palm “You never miss a single big milestone of mine.” He repeated the same words he said back during graduation day, the day he promised your hand. “I feel like I crashed your dreams, ruined your life.”

“No,” Your brows knitted “No, Jay, don’t ever say that again.” Sincerity filled your eyes “You are my dream.”

A tear fell down Jay’s eyes, a quiet sniffle escaping him. You brought his head down on your shoulders and gently patted his back “Why are you crying?”

“I thought I lost you again, because of my stupidity.” He shook his head, clinging onto your waist as if you were a lifeline.

You took his hand in yours and brought it on your chest “Do you feel it?” You asked. Jay raised his head and stared at you with teary eyes. He concentrated on the palm on your chest and felt your heart beating fast.

“That’s the effect you have on me.” Jay looked like a lost child at your words “Still?”

“Then, still, always.” You nodded your head, your lips curling into a soft smile “What happened this morning, to both of us, it was the anger speaking.”

Jay gently held your hand and brought it to his lips, his knuckles brushing on your ring finger. “I want to focus on you more, to make up for all those years we’ve lost because of my job.”

“Will you let me?” He asked, his head tilting to the side “Yes.” You breathed out

“I’ll take care of you,” He brought you closer by your hand, your chest flush against each other “I’ll spoil you rotten.” He brushed your hair away, his breath hitting your skin, making you shiver “My dear wife.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, murmuring on his lips “I want to have a baby, Jay.” His brows shot up in surprise “You do?”

“Yes,” You caressed the back of his neck. “I want to be the mother of your children.”

“Damn love,” Jay let out a shaky breath. “You can’t say things like that without bearing the consequences.”

You bit your bottom lip, bringing him down to you “I’m ready to bear them.”

Jay took you in his arms in a swift movement, carrying you over his shoulder and spanking your ass “To the bedroom.”

⪩⪨

“Hey, love.” Jay sat down beside you by the porch of the holiday lake house, placing a mug of iced tea on the table.

“Thank you.” You thanked, taking it in your hand with a groan “I really miss coffee.”

“I know,” He smiled gently, caressing the swelling of your belly “But caffeine isn’t good for the baby, is it?”

“Dad! Can I sail the boat?” Your eldest daughter asked, pointing at the boat near the shore of the lake “Fine, but be careful!” Jay shouted so she could hear and you both watched as she sailed the little box you used to sail as well during high school summer break.

You smiled, recalling the old memory, and Jay did the same, watching your face as if you were the best view of all.

“Do I have something on my face?” You asked, feeling a little self-conscious “Beauty.” He winked at you and you nudged his shoulder playfully.

His eyes fell down on your belly once again, a warm expression displayed on his face “Thank you so much, Y/N.”

You frowned at his sudden thankfulness “For what?”

“For everything,” His voice was full of sincerity “For this baby, for our other daughter, for being by my side.”

“And thank you for loving me.” Jay added, once again kissing your ring finger, this time his lips lingering a little longer on your knuckles.

“Oh, Jay.” You let out a shaky breath “That’s very effortless.”

Your eyes then fell down on the necklace, the same one you gifted him for his fifteenth birthday. Your fingers unconsciously reached for it as you began playing with it “You still wear it?”

“I’ll take it in the grave with me.”

[⪩⪨] END.

THANK YOU FOR READING ! REBLOG (and like) AND LET ME KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS ON THIS!

© I2SUNRIC | DON'T STEAL OR CLAIM AS YOURS.

[keen-li]

What you need | 02

synopsis: everybody needs, but how do you define need? do you even know what you need.

Genre: best friends au, angst, fluff, smut, slow burn.

jungkook x reader.

prev | next

-

'’I’ve been in Seoul for a week now’’ he says hand in pocket, and tall figure towering over you as you just stand there.

‘’oh,’’ you say not knowing what else you could add. Namjoon’s aura is quite intimidating for you.

‘’I’m sorry I delayed your flight though.’’

The awkward smile you’ve got on your face makes him chuckle.

You take the time during his smile to admire the little dents on both his cheeks. You’ve never seen a man with dimples. Or maybe you're just paying too much attention to namjoon's face.

‘’That's alright yn’’ The way he says your name has a little more essence than the way others say it. ‘’I hope you enjoyed your lunch at least’’

You smile at the thought of lunchtime with jungkook. You enjoyed yourself and had your first full meal. Which you’re glad about.

You don't know if it will happen again it jungkook isn't around to force feed you.

‘’yeah I did’’ you smile and Namjoon can tell you’re not smiling at him.

‘’is it a boyfriend?’’ he asks walking on eggshells.

You internally scoff.

‘’that’s personal, don’t you think’’ you say knowing jungkook is far from your boyfriend. But it is personal for him to stick his nose in.

‘’you’re right, I apologize’’ he says, ‘’ I'm overstepping’’ You don't reply instead just let the silence sink in. You think you've indulged in personal conversation for too long. You never go past hi's and hellos when with make customers and neither do you spend so much time admiring their faces, but here you.

‘’what car do you have in mind’’ you change the topic and get to working. You’re not going to get yourself into personal conversations with a client. Last thing you need is more men on your plate.

‘’honestly, all of them’’

You know people like Namjoon, have too much cash and don’t know where to spend it and want to show it off (softly of course)

‘’wow, that’s a lot. Giving me a run for my money’’ you scoff

Namjoon shows you his dimples once more. You walk forward to the first car and Namjoon’s eyes follow your figure.

‘’I think you can handle it’’

-

‘’sorry I'm late’’ You walk to the booth jimin, willoe, and jungkook are sat at. All eyes are on you as you try and calm your breathing.

‘’what happened to you? ’’ willoe spits out eyeing you in concern as you breathe like you’ve got asthma.

‘’got off at the wrong stop and had to power walk here’’ you puff out. Jungkook moves out of the way so you can sit by the window and opposite facing willoe.

‘’you walked? What happened to your car’’ jimin asks staring at you even more concerned. You can see from the look on his face that he’s worried about you. It’s the first time you’ve seen him since your phone call. So he takes the time to analyze you.

‘’My car’s in the shop’’ Immediately you say it Jungkook’s eyebrows go up and he turns to face you. You bite your lip and avoid his eyes knowing what’s on his mind after your words.

You fight the urge to laugh nervously.

‘’That’s what happens when you don’t drive it.” Willoe spits out munching on some cheese sticks.

‘’I did drive it’’ for like a week, you honestly don’t even know why you bought the car if you weren’t willing to start driving it. You kinda place the blame on the fact that you recently got your license and are still shit scared of the road. Jungkook offers to help you get comfortable but you always procrastinate.

‘’what shop’s your car in?’’ jungkook eyes you warningly as his tongue grazes his inner cheek. He’s asking to provoke an answer.

‘’just some shop near work’’ You avoid long eye contact cause you know he’s probably feeling some way about it and you don’t want to face it.

‘’you didn’t tell me about it?’’ his words come out like a silent fire and everybody else at the table can feel the heat. So, willoe and Jimin ignore as they look at each other and speak with they’re eyes.

‘’yeah. I saw you were busy and I didn’t want to bother you’’ you spit out a little harsh. You understand what’s got his mood changed but you don't think it’s that big of a deal. You took your car to another auto repair shop, so what? ‘’it’s not that big of a deal kook’’ your words leave you mouth too quick for your liking.

‘’yeah you're right it’s not’’ his tone says otherwise. You roll your eyes at how childish he’s being. He can get childish sometimes over nothing and it bugs you.

‘’okay how has everyone been’’ willoe chimes in to change the air and you couldn’t be happier. But you were gonna have to talk about it later anyways.

-

‘’Now that the house is sold I have less work on my plate. Cause that house was impossible to sell’’ She exaggerates her tone and emphasizes how hard it was.

‘’That's great babe, I'm happy for you’’ Jimin rubs his hand on her thigh.

‘’thanks’’ she replies blush on her cheeks.

‘’how about you yn, how’s work?’’ she turns to you, who's mind is so far away.

‘’as horrible as ever but at least I just got a really big client’’ you adjust in your seat.

‘’ou, who?’’ willoe puts her elbows on the table.

‘’just some entrepreneur. I think he lives in France or something’’ you state like it’s nothing.

‘’he?’’ you can see the tease in Jimin’s eyes.

‘’please shut up jimin’’ You roll your eyes and scoff.

‘’what did i do?’’ he shrugs his shoulders amusingly.

‘’I thought you only worked with women?’’ jungkook decides to finally speak to you and it’s nothing more than a shallow inquiry.

‘’It’s not that I only work with women, it’s just that I prefer them over men.” You the words come out a little sharp and bored. You bite awkwardly into your cheese stick.

Jungkook hums.

‘’I know you want to say something’’ you turn back you Jimin as jungkook goes back to being silent after having his query's answered

‘’nope,’’ he shakes his head childishly.

‘’say it’’ you narrow your eyes.

‘’Nothing. Just be careful with these entrepreneurs from Europe’’

‘’why? He’s Korean though’’ you defend.

‘’doesn’t change a thing’’ willoe adds, she’s always on Jimin’s side. That’s what happens when in a debate with a couple.

‘’Their favourite thing is to prey on girls from here and promise them a fantasy’’ jungkook spits out. You can’t believe he’s still sulking.

You look at them as they seem to agree with each other. Why do they always act like they know better than you?

‘’you guys are being so dramatic. I'm not even interested in him like that’’ you insist ‘’plus I promised myself to never date again’’ you say like a vow and jungkook’s heart throbs in his throat.

‘’Whatever, I hope you just stick to your word’’ Jimin mutters with a cheeky smirk pasted on his face.

‘’yeah I will’’ your mood goes down a bit. You will prove them wrong.

You watch the waiter put the food down on your table and willoe is almost drooling.

���’you’re gonna droll all over the table, babe’’ you hear jimin mock her before she lands a gentle smack on his shoulder and a soft mumble of words leave her mouth.

You turn to stare at jungkook to see if he’s still sulking. He is. You frown at how distant you feel from him when he’s like this.

You’re busy talking about your week and just some funny moments.

You watch willoe and Jimin bicker and it makes you smile at how cute they are.

You’re smiling when you turn to look at jungkook again. Your smile drops when you watch how silent he is and how he hasn’t touched his food.

‘’you okay?’’ he doesn’t seem to catch what you say immediately but when he does his smile and reassurance are unconvincing.

You don't poke more at it. He can’t be seriously this moody over you taking your car else where.

You're forced to stare out the window cause of the awkward silence in Jungkook’s car. The whisper of the wind the only conversation going on.

You haven’t spoken since you left the restaurant. You don’t want to nag him but you’re just worried he’s upset about the car thing when you didn’t mean to make him feel bad.

‘’kook’’ you speak so softly and unsurely you almost think he doesn’t hear. But the hard hum he releases lets you know he’s heard you. Now that you have the floor you wonder if you should even ask, you don't want to irritate him.

‘’Are you mad?’’ he raises his brow at you but still stares at the road. ‘’about the car thing’’

‘’I'm not mad’’ his tone says otherwise.

He takes a turn.

‘’it doesn’t seem that way’’ you ease in more.

‘’well I'm not’’ It comes out sharp and angry causing you to raise your brows ‘’Sorry’’ he murmurs out.

‘’I never meant to hurt your feelings, I just didn’t want to bother you with my junkie car’’ Your car was far from junkie but you’re just spitting out rubbish to ease the tension.

‘’it wouldn’t be a bother’’ he takes another turn. He doesn’t even know why he feels the way he does cause he’s not really mad, he just has this dull achy feeling in his chest and he doesn’t know why it’s there. But it’s there and making its existence known.

‘’I know, but I’ve seen you. You’ve got so much on your plate’’

You are right.

‘’I know but I just wished you’d told me, I could’ve recommended somebody I know’’

Why jungkook prefers you go to him about car issues is because he knows how some other auto repair shops work. They see women and find an opportunity to swindle. He believes he’s told you enough about it. But he still worries and prefers you tell him and he deals with it.

He pulls over at a red light.

‘’I’m sorry’’ you say taking a risk and bringing your hand into his free one, while the other stays on the wheel. Your body shivers at his warm hold which is contrary to your freezing ones.

You bring his hand to your lips to place a peck on it, just for fun and to catch his reaction. Jungkook crunches his face at the action, not that he minds but it just feels weird.

‘’don’t kiss my hand’’ he chuckles out. Then he interlocks your fingers together.

In your friendship you’ve become comfortable with this little holds and touches, so nothing feels weird about this. Just comforting.

‘’why?’’ you question with a huge teasing smile on your face.

‘’cause I'm the one who should be kissing yours’’

You watch him pull your hand to his lips. With his eyes locked on yours, he places a tender kiss on the skin.

The action soothes the ache in Jungkook’s heart, slightly. It brings some form of comfort to him.

You smile when he pulls his lips away, you can feel his lips still tingle on your skin.

You don’t know what to do but smile. At least he doesn’t seem to be mad.

The green light causes him to pull his eyes back to the road.

You try to pull your hand away from his so that it’s easier for him to drive. But his grip tightens around your hand, you raise a brow at him confused.

‘’ your hands are cold, I’m just warming them’’ he smirks and his thump caresses your skin.

--

‘’you don't wanna come up?’’ you lean against the window and wait for his response. ‘’I have banana milk?’’ you bribe.

He sucks air between his teeth ‘’it’s tempting, but I can't’’

‘’Maybe next time?’’ he bargains and you nod.

‘’yeah sure’’ you back away from his car.

‘’I’ll call you though’’ he says before he drives away, almost reluctantly. He watches you figure through the side mirror and watch his car disappear. The sad look on your face makes jungkook want to turn around.

But its not a sad look, more of a ‘I’m grateful to have you as a friend’ look.

When you’re back in your apartment and into your warm comfy bed. You throw your coat somewhere on the floor and make a mental note to pick it up soon, it was too expensive to throwing on the floor. But you’re exhausted.

Your mind slowly and unintentionally slips to the moment and feeling of jungkook holding your hand. You’ve held hands before but in the car, it felt...

In that moment for the first time, you never thought of yunho.

Ring, ring.

You groan when you hear your phone ring. It could be willoe cause she promised to call when she got home, but knowing willoe she’d never call cause she would forget to. Or it could even be jungkook. Your heart jumps at the thought.

Your smile drops and you let the phone ring to voicemail when you see the name that’s there. Unchanged still saved with the red heart and teddy bear emoji. You wonder why you never deleted it.

That sick and horrible feeling returns when you see the text that follows up on your screen.

Yunnie: I know you probably don't wanna talk to me, but I really wanted to hear your voice.

Yunnie: I've missed you.

Yunnie: are you free this weekend, I wanna talk things out.

You have a mix of emotions going through you and you can’t think. You could honestly throw up. Why the fuck is he texting you and why the fuck do you feel your heart pound.

The feeling gets even worse when a message from jungkook pops up and you open his chat.

[image]

Kook: goodnight bunny, <3

The picture of him on his couch with his black t-shirt and pajamas on and bunny smile in view causes you to smile. It almost makes you forget your dilemma for a second.

You: goodnight kook <3

[madaqueue]

playlists

what a waste | "army dreamers" x kate bush

synopsis: on what would have his twentieth birthday, you visit geto's grave

pairing: suguru geto x reader

themes/content: semi-canon curse au. angst. language. death/loss.

word count: 1.3k

a/n: here's some angst bc i've been in a mood for the past few days and am allergic to being happy!

The grass is damp under your skin, the rain from this morning clinging to your clothes, the smell of wet earth lingering despite the absence of clouds in the sky. This is the closest it’s gotten to raining on this day in years, what would be a sign of late winter opening into spring, but today it just feels dreary and cold.

Sighing, you place the bouquet of lilacs - his favorites - onto the stone, careful to not cover the plaque adorning the granite. At this point you could recite it in its entirety without needing to see it, the words burned into your mind from the countless days you spent reading and rereading it, hoping that the shape of the characters would finally make it sink in.

Suguru Geto

Cherished and loved.

The epitaph still feels halfhearted, empty. Even though you and Satoru spent weeks trying to figure out what to write, everything you came up with felt hollow, unable to capture his essence. You wanted to do him justice, but you just couldn’t; he’s more than a plot of land and some words engraved in stone.

Of course, it’s a moot point: the grave is empty, anyways. After the fight against Toji, Shoko had to completely destroy his body, the risk of it being used maliciously too great. A shudder runs down your spine as you picture it, the cruelty of using your best friend’s corpse for something malevolent.

Would he notice? Would it bother him to know what had happened to his flesh? What makes a person, anyways; is it the body, or is it something else? You hope he doesn’t mind what had to happen to him after his heart quieted and his breathing stilled.

Are you at peace, Suguru?

You can’t help but wonder if, after everything, death brought him a respite from the pain he endured while alive. You knew the nature of his cursed technique, the necessary consumption of evil; in absorbing it, did it make him, too, evil? Was he plagued by the darkness he was destined to destroy?

You hope not. Despite the wickedness he witnessed, he nevertheless dreamed, hoping for a brighter future.

–

“What did you wanna be when you were a kid?” you ask through a mouthful of ramen.

Suguru sits across from you in the booth, forearms resting on the table as he eats his lunch. “What do you mean?” he questions, tilting his head ever so slightly.

“What did you want for a job? There’s no way you wanted to be a sorcerer,” you chuckle. “Like, I wanted to be one of those people who makes the cool brick patterns along sidewalks.”

He holds back a laugh at your answer. “I’m not sure, I don’t think I ever really thought about it.” He pauses, taking another bite of his food. “But I guess if I had to pick, probably a musician or something, maybe guitar, I always liked how they could make something sound beautiful with just their hands,” he muses softly.

“I could totally see you on a sick guitar,” you grin.

“Yeah, but I got my cursed technique too early. I never really got a chance to do anything but this,” he shrugs. “Maybe in another life.”

“Maybe,” you smile.

–

Now, the guitar you picked out for him, an acoustic one crafted in dark wood, sits in the back of your closet collecting dust. You were supposed to give it to him for his birthday. He was supposed to play it. He was supposed to be here, be alive, be celebrating with you.

Pain shoots up your palm as you look down, realizing your hands have been clenched into fists, your nails beginning to draw blood. Shaking out your arms you take in an uneven breath, a desperate attempt to steady yourself.

All the things he never got to do.

“I’m sorry, Suguru,” you whisper to yourself, placing a bloodied hand over the grass covering his grave.

He should be here. He never even got to turn twenty, never got to have kids or the family he wanted, hell, he was just a kid himself when he died. Just a fucking kid.

–

“That…that can’t be right,” you stammer. “There’s no way.”

“I’m sorry,” Satoru places a hand on your back, tears slowly rolling down his cheeks. “I - fuck - I couldn’t save him. I was too late.”

“No, no, no, no,” you begin to spiral, gaze rapidly shifting over the ground as you process his words.

Suguru was dead. Killed by a man named Toji Fushiguro, trying to protect the Star Plasma Vessel, the one who was supposed to assimilate with Master Tengen.

“I don’t…I don’t know what happened,” Satoru chokes out, “But…I saw his body. He’s gone.”

A scream echoes down the corridor - was it yours? Everything feels far away as Gojo wraps his arms around you, sobs racking your body as you cry into one another.

–

Shaking your head, you wipe the tears that have begun to fall as you remember the day you lost him. Despite the years that have passed, you remember it like it was yesterday, the way the setting sun covered you and Satoru as the night air came in, unable to move from that spot as you wept together.

The sickest fucking part was that it didn’t even matter.

When Riko Amanai, the Vessel, was found dead, they just got a replacement, another body to stand in for Master Tengen’s needs. They told Suguru to protect her with his life and he did, but ultimately the loss of hers was inconsequential to the upkeep of Jujutsu society; just as one flower died they plucked another.

But they couldn’t regrow Suguru’s soul.

–

Four men.

That’s how many it took to carry his body from the basement of Jujutsu High. You watched in silence as they passed you, unspeaking, unwavering, unbothered as they bore his weight.

It feels wrong, somehow, like he should be heavier. He always had this gravitational pull, this universe-sized soul that drew everything to him - shouldn’t they be able to feel that?

How heavy is a body? How heavy is the grief it carries?

–

“Hey,” a voice pulls you back to the present, the sun beginning to hang low in the sky as you ground yourself, idly tugging at the dirt beneath you. “I’m glad to see you,” Satoru greets warmly as he walks across the graveyard towards you.

Since the last time you saw him he’s aged, the creases around his eyes deeper than a twenty-year-old’s should be, an air of sadness clinging to him like wet clothes after being caught in the rain.

“You too,” you smile as he sits next to you in the damp grass.

Neither of you explicitly make plans to see each other here every year, yet you both tacitly know you wouldn’t miss this, the annual reconvening one you simultaneously cherish and dread. Suguru deserves to be celebrated, but it’s also a reminder of the time he didn’t get, the birthdays cut short when his life was stolen from him.

The two of you sit in silence for a while, content without speaking as a cool breeze picks up, dusk settling in.

“He should be here,” Satoru mutters, his knees tucked up to his chest.

“I know,” you murmur as you lay on your back, gaze unfocused on the darkening sky above you.

Another momentary pause falls between you.

“Did you love him?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you answer truthfully. “Did you?”

“Yeah.”

You let out a shaky breath. “Satoru?”

“Mhm?”

“Do you think that was enough, that we loved him?”

He tilts his head to look down at the grave that separates you, the lilacs you brought now lightly covered in a layer of dew. Sighing, he brushes away the tears that had been forming along his lash line. “I hope so.”

“I hope so, too.”

He reaches an arm out to you, holding your hand in his as you both place your empty palms onto the dirt.

“Happy birthday, Suguru,” you whisper.

[microsofttothemax]

“you never know how much I love you, please don’t take my sunshine away.”

the idea of leo still going through all the movie angst in this au is gut-wrenching so i had to draw it

[aria0fgold]

In this world, the storm will pass

Alec sat atop the railing of the balcony, looking up at the sky as it slowly dims to reveal the countless stars awaiting the night to be seen, to twinkle at the life below the vast sky. A cigarette placed between his lips, smoke rising up to the stars that he can only dream of reaching someday.

His eyes were vacant, what was once a vibrant blue, like the sky in a cloudless sunny day, is now merely as dull as the sky in the fog, in the stormy weather that never left. But it's getting better now. Slowly, slowly… Like clouds drifting in a windless day, moving an inch, yet moving still. Slowly… The storm will pass. But for now, he'll stay in the eye of it.

Standing beneath the stars surrounded by a quiet storm all kept inside. In this world, everything is the same, yet different. In this world, everyone is alive, safe from a greater danger than life itself. In this world, Alec is supposed to be dead, yet here he is… Someone else. In this world, his family lost Alec, yet in his world, he lost everything.

So what is he doing here then? Intruding in a world that didn't need someone like him. An Alec that was doomed to have nothing, living in a world that has moved on from Alec's death. He doesn't know, doesn't understand. He gave up understanding the world ever since that day, the day where it collapsed, leaving him with nothing but ruin. He always thought that, it would be better for him to have lost himself to the forest instead than be brought here by whatever force, whatever power, whatever God, who thought it entertaining to put him here, in this world. Is it fun? His life… to be toyed with by fate, by the world itself, is it fun? He gave up wondering about it, gave up on an answer he didn't need to hear.

Alec took a drag on his cigarette, frankly, he isn't one to smoke, he isn't one to drink, he isn't one to do any such things. But what does it matter anyway? His body… won't sustain any damage from it anymore. It's different. Everything is. Nothing was ever the same ever since his world started collapsing. Nothing was. So it didn't matter, whatever damage he does to his body didn't matter, it'll just heal it all anyway. Leaving not even scars on his skin, what a picture perfect body, devoid of scars. One would wonder if he ever went through such things, when there's nothing for him to show for it.

Alec glanced down, it was pretty high. This house, this balcony on the third floor. He gave up on that thought long ago though, it was the only constant he has left, his will to live, even after everything. Foolish, isn't it? To continue wanting to live even after all that, for what reason really? He doesn't know anymore, his memory isn't as good as it was before. So much so, that he's guilty of forgetting what his family looked like. Had he not been living in this world, he would've forgotten their names too.

Alec looked up again, to the pitch black sky, the stars brightly twinkling at him. Back in his world, he found solace in the night, in the stars above. He thought of them as his family watching over him, was it a myth he read back then? The souls of your loved ones becoming stars in the night sky. What of it now, however? In a world where everything is okay, is his family's souls still amongst the sea of stars, watching over him like they did before? What would they think of him now? Would they be happy? Glad? Relieved? Or would they be mad? Upset? Betrayed? To see Alec be happy with someone that's them yet aren't at the same time?

He doesn't want to think about it.

Just as Alec brought the cigarette to his lips to take another drag, the hand of another reached out to take it from his own, he didn't need to turn around to know who it belonged to. He knows it already, by heart.

“You okay?” Ray stood beside him, leaning on the railing as he threw the cigarette to the ground. Putting the fire out with his slippers.

“You're going to ruin that pair soon if you keep that up…”

“Well, that's fine. I forgot to grab the ashtray on the way.” Ray hummed, “You dodged my question again though.” His voice had a slight teasing tone, mouth formed into a small grin as he glanced at Alec.

“It's always the same answer, anyway.” I'm fine. That's the answer he always gives to that question, every single time. He knows it's a lie, they know it's a lie, but what else can he say when words aren't enough to convey whatever he's been feeling ever since then?

“I don't mind that. Maybe, once a lie is repeated enough times, it'd come true someday.” Ray chuckled, “Though that sounds a bit dangerous, now that I think about it.”

Silence fell between the both of them, it isn't heavy nor is it tense. It was comfortable, like the breeze of the night. Ray looked to the sky, and Alec… he looked to Ray's eyes. It was as dark as the night sky, reflecting the countless stars twinkling high above with a light all too familiar yet not at the same time. This is Ray, yet not his Ray. That is Ray, one who've turned into light, amongst the sea of many others, high above the sky, a bright twinkling star. In a way, he did become a ray of light, just not that of sunshine as he would always say.

Alec moved his eyes towards the sky once more, and the two stayed there, in the silence, below the night sky, underneath the stars, they bathed in the light of a hundred promises, a thousand wishes and a million hopes for a future gentler than their present.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。i know you still think about the times we had

synopsis. satoru will always comes when you call him, he just never thought you’d stop calling

— word count. 5.2k (where did i go wrong)

— contents. college au, rich boy! gojo, break ups and make ups <3, it’s the cliche trope where the rich guy’s parent forces you to leave him aka gojo’s father is the villain, angst with a happy ending—i don’t want my cause of death to be angry rb! gojo stans, emo gojo ft. marvin’s room (iykyk), cliche rain scene—this fic is so cliche i’m sorry, reader is gn! but gojo is mentioned to like pics of girls on instagram (he was being petty)

— notes. well, it finally happened. the long awaited break up. this one’s for you niku 🤞🏽 AND DABITEE ANON

you open the door when satoru knocks—just barely, though. it’s just enough to hand him the bag with the remaining things he’s left at your apartment. it feels familiar, being here, but it feels so different too. it’s always been happy knocking on your door—he never thought he’d dread letting his knuckles meet the cool wood. it’s like taking the last bite of something sweet when you’re too full. when the sugar is too decadent on your tongue and your head spins and your stomach twists and it’s too much even though it used to be so good.

it’s too much being here. it’s too much trying to meet your gaze and get nothing in return. it’s too much being handed back that sweater he basically let you keep. and yet, it’s good to see you. he wants nothing more than to be here with you, wherever you are, even if you don’t want him to stay.

“that should be everything,” you murmur, still looking down. “let me know if there’s anything missing.”

satoru would never tell you if there’s something missing. he’d never come back and demand back something he gave you, he doesn’t think he could ever take back something he gave you—being handed back his heart after pressing it to your palms is hard enough. but then again, maybe he should look for small things you probably missed. just so he can come back. just so he can see you—how else will he see you now?

“no, it’s alright,” he says quietly. he doesn’t miss the way you quickly let go as soon as his hands grab the bag, almost like you’re being careful enough not to let your fingers meet each other. “you can uh…you can just keep them. or…throw them out if you don’t want them,” he mumbles.

you nod, standing there silently. it’s quiet, and then it’s quiet some more. and finally, you look up at him for the first time since he got here, staring at him a little expectantly. oh, right. now would be the part where he leaves.

“can i…can i just know why?” he croaks. fuck. he’s not supposed to cry. you ripped his heart out and threw it at his feet, you didn’t even care to hand it to him even after you tore every artery apart. but he sniffles anyway, lips wobbling as he stares at you. “why are you leaving me?”

your fingers twitch, like you itch to reach over and wipe that tear that rolls down his cheek. in the end, you cross your arms instead. “i already told you, satoru—”

“that’s bullshit,” he clicks his teeth, shaking his head as he stares at you frustratedly, “you gave me some bullshit reason.”

satoru has worked so hard to be here—to be with you. hadn’t he done enough? hadn’t he told you about himself, things he didn’t want to? hadn’t he tried to become something, someone more than just a guy swimming in trust funds? hadn’t he worked for your attention, waited outside classes and walked opposite directions in the hall with you just to seem dedicated? fuck, he even burned his hand trying to learn how to make pancakes to impress you, let the maids laugh at him as he twisted the stove the wrong way to try and turn it on. 

why wasn’t it enough? what more could he give you than everything? how can the guy who has everything not have enough to give? he doesn’t understand.

“satoru, we weren’t gonna work,” you pinch your nose—it’s like you’re the one who doesn’t understand why he’s being like this. “the sooner you accept that the more hurt you’re saving the both of us—”

“we were working just fine,” he says exasperatedly. it’s like you insist he’s crazy when he’s nothing but sane. like he’s trying to tell you the sky is blue, and you’re refusing to believe it’s anything other than green. it’s clear. it’s practically a fact. you were doing just fine—why don’t you see that? “we were happy,” he takes a step forward and cups your cheeks, pressing his forehead to yours, “was it someone? did they tell you something? just tell me who, baby—i’ll fix it. i’ll put them in their place, okay? no one can bother you if i get them to leave you alone—”

“then you leave me alone,” you whisper. he stills. you pull away from his hands. “sator—gojo. please just leave me alone. it’s better that way.”

you close the door, and he stands there. numb. maybe a little shocked. entirely ruined.

gojo. he laughs quietly after a moment at that—it’s a laugh meant for men who’ve lost the last thread to sanity. gojo. it’s like a slap in the face, being called the name he worked so hard to get you to drop. it took him weeks—months, even, to convince you to call him satoru. then he upgraded to toru. then it was baby. sometimes you teased him and called him pumpkin—he called you peaches in return. when you introduced him, you called him your boyfriend. 

not anymore. now he’s back to gojo—that god-forsaken name with everything but what he really wants attached to it. his grandfather’s legacy. his future. business deals. fancy invites. more money than he knows what to do with. the name gojo comes with everything but you.

but he had you for a bit, didn’t he? when he was just satoru—but now he’s gojo again, and you’re gone. the only sign of you left is in the faint traces of your perfume in the sweaters you’ve returned. 

and satoru still isn’t sure what brought the break up on. he thinks it’s the part that stings the most—when everything seems perfect one second, and then it’s not. had he not tried enough? maybe he was too much. maybe he didn’t understand you the way you needed him to. maybe he was too overbearing. maybe he asked for too much too fast. 

he’s not sure. he tried asking when you broke it off—you only shook your head and said it wasn’t going to work out between the two of you, that it was a mistake to try at all. mistake? how could you call this a mistake? things were so perfect, weren’t they?

satoru doesn’t think there was even one second he wasn’t smiling when he was with you, and he used to think the same was true for you too. had you been faking it this long? or was it real at one point—had he really failed you so badly, seen past you so blindly that he didn’t notice when your smiles stopped reaching your eyes?

it’s too late, he figures. you and satoru are broken up. 

you ask him to come over one morning, and he does—because he always comes when you call. he brings your coffee order from that cafe you like, the one you don’t go to often because the coffee is more overpriced than any other coffee shop you’ve ever seen. he’s grinning when you open the door, leans in to kiss your lips excitedly. you turn your head then, and his lips meet your cheeks instead—he supposes he should’ve known it at that moment. he should’ve seen that your lips weren’t smiling. your eyes were tired, a little red. you were hugging yourself in that way you do when you’re nervous. you didn’t let him kiss your lips, you made him kiss your cheek. 

and then you sat him down on that worn-down couch of yours, took off that bracelet his mother gave him to gift you on your anniversary, and pressed it to his palm as you said we should break up. break up. you wanted to leave him—and satoru didn’t understand, still doesn’t understand. 

he’s tried for so long, replayed the last month of your relationship in his head over and over and fucking over. you always smiled. you kissed him first. you held his hand, and even squeezed. you asked to see him. you laughed when he was around. you said i love you. you were happy. but then you weren’t—when did you stop being happy? and how could you have stopped feeling it with him?

—————

breaking up with satoru is the hardest thing you’ve ever done. how long can people live without the sun? you think not longer than a few minutes—that’s what it feels like without satoru’s warmth, anyway. 

gojo satoru has always smiled as long as he’s been with you. he smiled smugly on your first meet, smiled bitterly after every rejection, smiled in pure glee when you finally said yes, and smiled like his fingertips could touch the sky every time he saw you after that. 

satoru has never looked sad for long in your presence—you have that effect on him, you make his lips curl and his eyes brighten in that way that they deserve to shine. but for the first time ever, his eyes dim with you around, his lips curl into a frown at your words, and he cries for you. his eyes glisten with tears instead of wonder, and you think for a moment that you might be making a mistake. 

but then you remember that this is for the best—that if you really love gojo satoru, you’ll let him go instead of clipping his wings.

“he’s picked up his things,” you speak quietly into the phone. you don’t sniffle even as you desperately need to—it’s the last bit of control you have left, and you intend to keep it. “i won’t be seeing him again.”

“good,” his father speaks, “that’s good to hear.” 

satoru’s father is a cold man, you learn that on the first meet. he doesn’t look at his wife with a soft look that tells you there’s any love built between the decades of marriage, and he doesn’t look at his only son with any affection for the boy he raised. instead, he stares at satoru like any businessman would an opportunity—with a calculating gaze that tries to work out the best course of action for the most profit. 

satoru is young, but he’s charming and conniving and knows how to get what he wants when he wants—he’s quick on his feet and rarely lets himself get cornered into a wall. in the last three generations of the family business, no heir has shown as much promise as gojo satoru. that’s what his father tells you, anyway. you believe him—satoru is smart and knows how to play his cards right, you won’t deny that. his future is set to be comfortable, and he’s never known anything outside of that, never built any other plans for himself. 

you can’t rip that away from him—not for your own sake, not for your own happiness. 

“you promised you wouldn’t freeze his trust funds once i ended things,” you remind him, “and that he’d keep his inheritance.” somehow, because the world grants you this one favor, your voice doesn’t shake—it’s steady and firm as it reminds the stone-cold man at the end of the line of your agreement—and he offers a slow chuckle that makes your jaw clench. 

“yes, i do recall,” he hums, “i’m glad we could come to agree. you understand, don’t you? it is my job as his father to do what’s best for him.”

you know what he’s saying—what that means. you’re not what’s best for him. maybe he’s right—maybe satoru needs someone who’s equally as promising to build a successful company into even more success. maybe he needs someone who can take him out for a change to those fancy places he takes you every few weeks. maybe he needs someone who’s heard of half the brands he wears and doesn’t scold him to turn the lights off so the electricity bill isn’t high. maybe he needs someone who can keep up with everything that gojo satoru is—and that someone is not you, no matter how deeply you love him. 

“—the offer still stands, should you change your mind. i’m willing to compensate you for the trouble this must all be.” 

your lips curl into a scowl at his words. that’s the thing about rich people, you think—money is always enough to sugarcoat everything. why worry about the dead grass in your lawn when you can paint it green? but you don’t leave satoru for extra cash on your hands—nothing can be worth auctioning off the only man who’s ever made you feel anything. you leave satoru because he deserves to continue living comfortably, to make a name for himself that isn’t just a ghost of his father’s. if that means being cut from the corner of the picture, you’re willing to pick up the scissors yourself. 

“no thanks,” you hiss, “i don’t need the money.”

“i would disagree,” his father sneers, “but suit yourself.”

the line ends, and for good this time, satoru is no longer yours. was he ever to begin with? 

—————

you try to forget your ex-boyfriend—keyword, try. every hour of your life consists of you using your burner account to refresh his instagram page to see if he’s posted anything new. you unfollow satoru from every social media platform the same day he picks up his belongings—you know he’s noticed within the first thirty minutes because all of his pictures with you are gone, just like all your pictures with him. 

in what you assume is an attempt to be petty, he likes every picture of every girl he sees, and he even blocks you on twitter—you know he picks twitter because twitter is the only social media that blatantly states you’re blocked. but then you’re unblocked in two days, and you know he must be missing you now that the initial anger is faded. 

it makes you laugh a little, even through your tears. satoru is not satoru without petty fits of emotion, and you can’t bring yourself to be mad, not when it’s your fault he’s hurting like this. he’s extra sad today, you gather—if the way marvin’s room is posted to his instagram story on a blank screen is of any hint. it makes you scoff in amusement that in true gojo satoru fashion, he’s effectively told all eight-thousand-something of his followers he’s pathetically in his feelings. 

you scroll through suguru’s story, too—he didn’t unfollow you even after satoru temporarily blocked you, but you figure suguru is the only person satoru really has. you shouldn’t keep yourself close to him, not when it could hurt satoru more, so you remove him too. 

suguru is, as always, drinking at some fancy party with obnoxiously rich college students who have not a care in the world for midterms around the corner. who needs to pass when you’re swimming in money whether or not you have a degree? the first thing you learn about the rich is that most of them are only at college for the experience—they don’t see college as the stepping stone to better opportunities, there’s nothing education could offer that trust funds already don’t. but satoru attends college for himself—he enjoys business classes, you learn, and especially finance ones. for someone who spends money so carelessly, he understands it particularly well. 

there’s no sign of satoru at whatever party it is suguru is at, there’s no trace of strikingly bright white strands anywhere in any corners—you do see naoya in a corner, though, and you crinkle your nose in distaste. if satoru were here, he’d say something bitterly under his breath about the asshole, and you would giggle. but satoru is not here, and even naoya the women-hating jackass makes you miss your obnoxiously whiny ex-boyfriend. 

everything reminds you of satoru. that bear he won you at the fair (after maybe six tries) by your pillows, those polaroids at your desk that you can’t bring yourself to take down, that sticky note on your fridge he left promising to replace the creamer he finished (he’s replaced it more times than he’s needed to by now), that extra big blanket you keep on the couch because the old one barely covered his legs, that pair of silly matching mugs you both had for coffee in the mornings. 

every corner of your apartment has something that reminds you that satoru was here, that he was yours, that for a short while, he was the best thing you ever had. it’s your fault, you think—that satoru and you are here in this mess in the first place. he’s always looked at life through a hopeful lens. having everything does that to you, makes you ignorant to the misfortunes of the world, makes you think everything is within the realm of your reach. you, on the other hand, knew this was bound to happen. the two of you together is like hot oil and cool water—what feels like sparks is just the oil shooting out to burn you. you should’ve known this would have never lasted. 

in a way, you think you did. it’s why you hated him so fiercely at first—maybe deep down, you always knew you wanted him, that he would never be yours. maybe that’s why you were so adamant about rejecting him, that even when he was clearly trying, it would never be enough. satoru has always been enough, has always been what everyone has wanted—you’re not so sure you can say the same for yourself. 

you love gojo satoru. he loves you too—he falls first, and you think maybe, he might have fallen harder too. no one loves like satoru. they say if you press coal hard enough, it turns to diamonds—you think if you gave satoru coal, he would hand you back the sun and all of her stars. it’s just the kind of guy he is, the one that turns everything dull into something bright and warm and worth it. you wish you didn’t have to break his heart, you wish you could’ve walked out of this the only one hurt. but maybe, at the very least, if you break him good enough that he hates you, he’ll move on quicker, maybe have something to look forward to while you continue to work your way up and cheer him on. 

before you can refresh suguru’s page one more time to stalk his story, you’re pulled from your thoughts as someone knocks on your door—correction: pounds on your door. you jolt on your couch, standing up and making your way to the front door quickly and looking through the peephole. 

satoru. of course.

he’s soaked to the bone—it’s raining outside, and of course, just as on brand as always, he must’ve rushed here without an umbrella.

you shouldn’t open it.

but you can’t just leave him in the rain, can you? but he’s not your problem anymore, you agreed to leave him, didn’t you? but how could he not be your problem when he’s all you think about? but this could cause him trouble if his father found out he was here, right? but can you really leave someone, ex-boyfriend or not, in the pouring rain? you can’t be that cruel can you?

before you can make up your mind, he speaks up, “i know you’re standing there. open the door,” he demands. 

“satoru, go home,” you sigh, head pressing against the surface that separates you, “don’t make this anymore difficult than it has to be.”

“if it’s difficult, that means you don’t really want to do this,” he argues. he’s still as good as ever at sweet talk, still as persistent and charming as ever at getting what he wants. “please,” he croaks, “just let me in.”

you know it means more than one thing. you know it means more than just your home. but you shouldn’t, you can’t let him know why you did all this—how can you protect someone from something if they don’t let you? satoru would never let you if he knew, and that’s why you can’t let him know. 

“satoru, if you don’t leave…i’ll…i’ll call the cops,” you warn. 

“no you won’t,” he says instantly. “i’m not leaving until you open the door. and if i get sick, i’ll send you my bill for the emergency room visit.”

“you’re not going to the emergency room for a common cold, you idiot,” you scoff. 

the rain doesn’t slow—in fact, you can hear thunder. satoru is still stubbornly outside, knocking away. 

“i’ll start screaming,” he insists, “your neighbors will complain for noise again. do you want to be kicked out of this apartment? just let your cold, wet, heartbroken ex-boyfriend in if you have a heart.”

and because you are, and always will be, weak to the charms of gojo satoru, you open that damned door—even though you shouldn’t, even though you can’t, even though you said you would never again. but you do. because it’s satoru, and he always comes when you call, and you’ll always let him in when he’s here. 

“you don’t come to your ex’s house less than one week after the break up,” you sigh once you open the door. he takes a step in, shutting the door behind him. 

“why did you leave me?” he asks. 

“satoru, you can’t keep bringing this up—”

“why? just tell me why.”

“i don’t have to—”

“tell me why and i’ll stop bothering you. i just need to know why,” he insists. 

and then you break.

you’re only human. you’ve lost the man you’ve given everything to for over a year in the span of one week. you’ll never see his lovely mother again who spoiled you rotten, you’ll never hang out out with his funny best friend who treats you like family, and you’ll never be enough for gojo satoru, the rich, loud, sheltered, obnoxious, handsome jackass you met and had to do a project with and accidentally fucked over and over again until you fell in love. 

so you shove his chest, once, then twice, then a third time, each time getting weaker and weaker than the last as tears slip down your cheeks as you simply break down. “just leave, satoru,” you sob, “why can’t you just leave? why do you keep coming back?”

you hate seeing him here. you want him gone. you never want to see him again. you hope he never leaves. you’re glad to see him. you hope this isn’t the last time. you hate that he seems to not be getting enough sleep. his eyes are hollow. he must not be eating properly. he probably hasn’t attended class. he has a quiz next week. he most likely forgot about that. his clothes are wrinkly. he definitely hasn’t showered in days. 

“last month you said i was it for you,” he glares at you, his eyes red and swollen and every shade of heartbreak. you miss when they were blue—that beautiful, bright, perfect shade of blue. “last week you said we were a mistake. what the fuck do you mean, huh? what are you playing at?”

“you can realize a lot in a month—”

“not enough to erase over a year,” his voice booms. it makes you flinch and hug yourself tightly. tears slide down your cheeks, your vision is blurry. this might be the last time you see satoru, and even if he’s angry, you want to remember the curves of his features. so you wipe them away. they keep coming back. “so tell me,” he clenches his jaw, “did you string me along for a year or did something happen last week that you’re not telling me?”

“i realized you were bad for me,” you say quietly. 

satoru stares at you. it’s a piercing gaze—his eyes are electrically blue and his lashes are unfairly long and every time he stares at you, you think he almost sees into your soul. they’re tired—there are purplish bags under them on that pale skin of his, and the whites of his eyes are concerningly bloodshot. he stares, and stares, and for a second, you think you’ll die like this. watching him stare at you as your heart bleeds out. 

“i spent weeks,” his voice shakes, “i waited outside your class. i followed you to the next one. i memorized your fucking schedule.”

“satoru, you need to leave—”

“and then you fucked me and left every morning like i was nothing,” he glares, sniffling. you don’t know where the rain drops on his face start and where the teardrops end. “and then i begged you for a chance—begged. i burned my hand, got laughed at by the maids to learn how to make those stupid fucking pancakes for you.”

“i didn’t ask you to—”

“it took you two months to call me baby for the first time. did you know that? i waited two months to hear that. i thought it was the best two months i ever waited.”

“satoru,” you plead. 

you’ve given up on trying to wipe away the tears—he’s given up on crying altogether. you’ve never seen him so hollow, so dead in the eyes and so, so tired.

satoru has never gotten tired—not when he’s fighting for you.

“and then you kept pushing me away, acting like i was some shallow guy who wanted to get in your pants and leave cause i had some money to my name. i took you everywhere, introduced you proudly, let everyone say what they wanted to say about me because i loved you, and…and i thought you loved me too,” he shakes his head. 

his voice breaks, and god, so does your heart right along with it.

“i do love you,” you admit it before you realize what you’re saying. 

“then why did you fucking leave me?” his voice is loud.

satoru never yells, not at you. his voice is always gentle, patient, like he worships the ground you walk on, like he’ll get on his knees if you ask him too. satoru never yells—but he does tonight. 

“because i had to,” you sob, fingers digging into your temples as you shake. the words spill from your lips faster than the tears, like a swarm of angry bees, one following after the other. “or you’d lose everything. the trust funds, the inheritance, the company. i couldn’t let that happen to you—not for me,” you whisper. 

it feels like defeat—in the end, you couldn’t keep satoru, and you couldn’t leave him either. you couldn’t love him like you wanted, and you couldn’t let him go like you should have. what else is there left to fuck up? what more can you ruin in less than a week? the bees feel like maggots in your mouth, swarming a dead carcass.  

“so you left me because my old man threatened you with my trust funds?” he asks in disbelief. you think something in satoru dies at that—something in his shoulders falls and his eyes almost seem gray. 

satoru gets his blue eyes from his mother—they’re bright and kind and deeper than the ocean. but unlike the ocean, they’re not scary to fall into, to lose yourself in no matter how far you are from shore. his father’s eyes are gray—cold and blank and not laced with a single hint of emotion. 

you can’t help but think that blue suits satoru so much better than gray ever could. 

“it wasn’t just that,” you shake your head, “that’s not fair, satoru. what was i supposed to do? know you were about to lose everything and stay?”

“you could have talked to me before you decided for me,” he hisses, “what do you want me to say? thank you? thank you for breaking my heart? thank you for making me feel like a worthless piece of shit who wasted a year for someone who didn’t seem to care? thank you for walking out on me?”

“you know i’d have stayed if i could,” you argue, voice breaking.

“then why didn’t you? why the fuck didn’t you?”

“because i couldn’t!”

“you could!” he screams—you realize, for the first time in your life, you hate when satoru screams. he never screams. “all my life, that old man has been making decisions for me. satoru, wear this. satoru, go here. satoru, don’t do that. satoru, put that away. satoru, stay away from them. satoru, come with me. that’s all he’s ever fucking done—make every choice for me. and now…now you’re just like him,” he breathes, lips wobbling as he stares at you with hurt. 

it’s like that for a bit—you stare at him as he crumbles, and he stares at you like he doesn't know you anymore. you don’t know who leans in first, if it’s your hand or his face, but one second you’re feet apart, and the next second his face is cradled in your hands, thumbs swiping away at his tears. you catch them, one by one, waiting to wipe them away no matter how fast they come. because satoru always comes when you call, and you’ll always be there for him to find you. 

“i don’t want to leave,” you mumble, “i never do. you are it for me, i meant that, you know. who else will melt extra chocolate in my hot chocolate?”

“then don’t leave,” he begs, voice cracking, “i don’t want you to. i’ll handle that old geezer—my grandfather will knock some sense into him. fuck, suguru and i can even hide his body, it’s fine. just don’t leave, okay?”

you let out a watery chuckle, pinching his cheek as you shake your head. “i don’t know if i’m worth homicide, satoru.”

“i think you’re wrong,” he huffs, “you’re wrong about a lot of things, you know. so wrong.”

“i never said i was perfect,” you pout.

he buries his head into your neck, clinging to you tightly—you cling back, because nothing is as safe as satoru’s arms. you’d melt into his skin if you could, live in that spot right where his heart is so you can make sure it’s always beating. 

“you’re still perfect,” he mumbles, “but you’re always mean to me. this was the worst you’ve ever been.”

“i’m sorry,” you murmur, slipping your fingers into his hair—it’s still wet, you realize. he’s soaked, and he could catch a cold but you don’t care. satoru is back. he’s here in your run-down apartment with the mugs and the blanket and that toothbrush you forgot to return and that pair of socks you found in your drawer. satoru is finally home. “i’ll never leave you again.”

“promise?”

“yeah. as long as you don’t block me on twitter again.”

“you deserved that.”

“and for the love of god, toru, delete that marvin’s room story. that was so dumb.”

“are you stalking me?” he pulls away with a grin, making you glare with a huff. he chuckles, kisses your forehead as he murmurs, “missed me that bad, huh? yeah, i would too.”

“well, obviously not enough to post marvin’s room on my story.”

“you can’t be mean to me after you broke my heart!” he whines.

yeah, you think, satoru is home. he’s still that loud, obnoxious, pestering brat that he always was—and he’s still the only love you’ve ever known. 

“i love you,” you press your forehead to his, kissing him slowly. you want to kiss him harder, you want to kiss him desperately like you’ll never kiss him again. like you lost him and miraculously got him back. like you’ll never see the sun again without him. 

but there’s time for that—lots of it, in fact. because satoru is home.

“i love you too,” he whispers, “wanna shower with me? if you really love me, you would.”

read the makeup sex sequel ;) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

if this fic was a person i would want it dead.

[hoshigray]

𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞 [𝐍𝐎𝐓]!! | a JJK series

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: “GO FUCK YOURSELF, SATORU GOJO!” “BETTER THAN FUCKING YOU!” It’s no secret to anyone on this Earth that you and Gojo cannot stand each other. Despite that, the world seems amused to put these two star-crossed lovers haters in the same space. Or worse, have them dwell deeper into their feelings for one another…

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Gojo x fem/afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern + college AU - frenemies to lovers + mutual pining - fluff + angst + misunderstandings - first kiss - virginity loss - Gojo and reader are at least age 20 - secret relationships; implied friends-with-benefits - sex in shared rooms; college dorms + hotel suite - college parties - use of party games (seven minutes in heaven) - confessions - mention of drug/alcohol abuse - humor bc Gojo and college, lol - Gojo is a cocky, tactless sweetheart, nothing new - cameos of other characters + explicit content will be listed in their respective fics (within the contents).

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: when I say that I had this series planned out, I mean like mid-October last year planned out, lmaoo!! I'm honestly so psyched to do this series, as it's one of my favorite tropes + relatively short as I'll be busy irl, but we'll do what we can!! i was lowkey feeling this concept when i was re-watching Ranma 1/2 and figured it would work great with Gojo. So, here's to hoping i can properly execute my thoughts with this series, hehehe~

reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ❤︎ gif header made by me + fic dividers used are provided by the wonderful @cafekitsune and @animatedglittergraphics-n-more!!

𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑰𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑨𝒊𝒓...

All the material below contains explicit 18+ content, so minors do not interact.

₊˚⊹♡ 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 (Feb 1st)

The start of the spring semester is supposed to be fresh and new, not be cramped up in a closet with your frenemy at a party! And what's worse: you actually like the feeling of his lips on yours!?

₊˚⊹♡ 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐝 (Feb 7th)

Is it possible to wish to be in the embrace of someone who makes you want to throw them off a cliff? You seem to think so, and the same goes for Gojo. But alas, good things always come to an end, even when not meant to be...

₊˚⊹♡ 𝐒𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲, 𝐈 𝐇𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞 (Feb 14th)

Going on a date with the guy who broke your heart is something you’d never thought would happen – especially on Valentine’s Day! But it’s just for him to be in your good graces again, nothing more…Yeah, go ahead and tell yourself that.

𝑨 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑳𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒀𝒐𝒖!

Would you like to be tagged when these pieces get released? Lmk in the replies, please, and thank you!

𝑻𝑨𝑮 𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 𝑪𝑳𝑶𝑺𝑬𝑫!!! Have made a list of the first 50 ppl who asked, but don't worry!! Check back for the stories when they're posted on their respective dates!!

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 ❤︎ These stories have been written by the original poster (me). Do not steal, edit, copy/plagiarize, or post any of my works on your own accounts, in or out of this app. Please and thank you.

[tteokdoroki]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“boo!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he only desires you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the very secret made you feel dirty and used. 

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

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

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

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

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

like right now.

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

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

“about me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“did you miss me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

how he wanted to own every part of you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“maybe, if you’re lucky.” 

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

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

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

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

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

how can you say no.

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

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

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

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

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

“you’re so fuckin’ pretty.” 

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

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

“so you’ve said, ‘toru.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

knock, knock, knock.

“hey little one, i’m home!” 

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

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

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

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

“hey, little one? it’s me, suguru..”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“o-oh sugu, you shouldn’t have!”

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

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

his best friend. 

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

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

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

“i know, suguru.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

they all share the shade of a baby powder blue. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

hiding his presence from suguru. 

“hi ‘toru.”

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

“i almost told sugu about us today.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

be someone that you deserve. 

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

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

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

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

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

“i want… i want you too.” 

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

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

except gojo isn’t drunk. 

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

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

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

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

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

the girl he might actually love, after all. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

satoru gojo has always been afraid of love. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

how could a man like him make anyone happy? 

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

no one except for… 

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

no one except for you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

there’s suguru too.

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

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

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

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

the both of you were better off without him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

his driver, reassuring him once again. 

“it’s okay, satoru. just breathe.” 

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

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

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

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

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

satoru gojo is not as brave as he thought. 

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

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

except this isn’t just dinner. 

this is make or break. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“since when did you smoke, satoru?”

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

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

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

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

like you, his sister? 

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

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

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

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

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

a puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit.

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

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

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

the very notion scares satoru. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

satoru is such a coward. 

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

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

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

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

they share a familiar, all knowing smile. 

“yeah, satoru. let’s do this.” 

without even knowing, that everything is about to change.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

her efforts do nothing to help calm you down. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he can’t help it, you’re beautiful. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

if only you weren’t such a coward. 

if only he weren’t so afraid.

if only…

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

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

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

if only suguru wasn’t your older brother. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“sugu what are you—!”

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

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

“suguru, we’ve hardly ordered anything!” 

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

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

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

“a toast to you, my little sister.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“satoru.”

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

“suguru.” 

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

you wish. that would be an ideal world. 

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

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

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

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

“i hadn’t even noticed.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“mom! oh my god!” 

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

“sugu, not you too!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you okay, little one?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

oh!

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

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

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

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

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

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

satoru chokes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

why did you even suggest this? 

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

you wanted to be his girlfriend. 

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

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

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

the burn of underlying guilt.

“i can help with that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

it’s selfish and both of you know that.

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

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

but isn’t that what you want? 

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

how you might fail to live without him? 

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

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

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

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

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

“say that again.” you moan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

one. two. three. 

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

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

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

he quickly abandons his joint.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

because all you feel is ecstasy. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but satoru has always had a way about charming you. 

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

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

“can i ride you?” you ask him hazily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

warm, cherished and cared for. 

just like suguru would want you to be. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

suguru geto was not an idiot. 

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

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

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

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

suguru geto was not stupid.

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

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

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

another soul he’s grown up with. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you can’t. you’d never…

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

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

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

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

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

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

pet like a dog getting a treat.

a reward for taking care of you all these years.

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

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

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

“does anybody want to order dessert?”

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

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

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

“daifuku!” 

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

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

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

suguru geto was not a fool.

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

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

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

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

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

it all hits him like a truck.

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

“suguru what are you—?”

“you fucked her. didn’t you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

onlookers in the restaurant are no different. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i said how long!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“fuck you right back, geto.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“suguru! s-stop it!” you cry. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

he sounds like he’s about to cry.

“i know.” 

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

“i know.” 

“you’re five years older than her!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you like to think that you know suguru geto. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“suguru— your sister!”

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

“suguru please.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

some grateful little sister you are.

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

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

wait… that’s not true.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“a-are you leaving?” 

“for a little while.”

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

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

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

“sugu, please don’t go.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and with that, he’s gone. 

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

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

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

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

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

things that suguru had helped you to achieve.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

it’s true. he is. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the post-orgasmic clarity hits.

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

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

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

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

“w-what?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he would hate to take your spark too.

so satoru gojo decides to weigh up his options. 

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

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

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

so reddit, AITA? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

through the grapevine of CEOs and higher ups, satoru learns that you’ve followed in your brother’s footsteps and made your way over to the land of the free. the magazine you worked for, Heavenly Pact, was getting ready to start an american edition and word had travelled that you were going to be the head of their new office on that side of the pond. gojo was proud, excited for you — you were excelling in your career all on your own, he was glad that he hadn’t ruined that for you too.

being in the states from time to time, satoru often wondered if there would ever be a time where he ran into you. would you be happy to see him? would you even want to talk? what would he even say?

‘i’m sorry for fucking you for fun and fumbling the bag — almost destroying your relationship with your brother when i caught feelings’ wouldn’t exactly fly well with you, he was sure.

it didn’t end up mattering anyways, because when gojo does eventually bump into you during business hours — he almost doesn’t recognise you. he’s in New York for some big, fancy corporate meeting about mergers and acquisitions, whatever his father had put into the file gojo was skim reading on his phone at the last minute, right before making his way up to the conference room. 

the elevator taking him there stood about six floors shy of satoru’s destination and a young woman enters like a hurricane — bringing with her a whirlwind of paperwork and notebooks. “i-i’m sorry.” the young woman stutters from behind her pile of belongings, out of breath from seemingly running for the elevator. “could you press the button for my floor? i would do it myself, but…” 

there’s a strain in her voice that makes gojo chuckle to himself, reaching past her so that his fingertips brush over the cool and luminous buttons for each floor. “are you going up?” 

“down actually… you?” 

“up ‘m afraid, but headed to the top floor. so this elevator’s probably going to head straight down to wherever you need to be afterwards.” he offers up apologetically. he swears the tonation to her voice sounds familiar, it’s soft and sugarcoated notes stirring up a warm feeling in gojo’s tummy.

“that’s fine by me, i’m running ahead of schedule anyway. floor eleven for me, please.” 

gojo does as he’s told, pressing the button for the eleventh floor — he has to reach past the woman in order to do so. his vigilant blue eyes catch a glimpse of the fashion photography stacked in her arms amongst sketches and other designs while the scent of her perfume strikes a dizzying recognition within the white haired man. undertones of vanilla with subtle floral scents make gojo’s stomach turn and light bulb memories of those precious two years flash behind tired cerulean eyes. 

he knows you, he thinks, all too well.

he says your name under his breath as though he’s keeping a secret and you freeze — no longer sorting through the papers flying about the place. when you look up and your eyes meet, you feel like the world has stopped spinning and that it’s just the two of you, frozen in time.

“satoru,” you breathe and quite plainly, as if you’re holding back any emotion you feel towards your ex…but then you smile, and it’s so vibrant satoru feels like he might go blind. not a trace of resentment in those big, beautiful brown eyes. “it’s been a while.” 

you’ve changed a lot in only a year. while your face still holds its youthful innocence, except your eyes reflect growth and maturity — perhaps a little bit of exhaustion from how hard you’ve been working on your new job. you’re still as beautiful as the day gojo left you, but perhaps even more so. your light  glows instead of dulls, most likely because you’re free. he’s no longer holding you back with a jail sentence of his selfishness. you’ve been able to live your life properly, just as someone your age should. 

it would be wrong for him to interfere with your newfound happiness.

turning on his heel, satoru faces forward and avoids your gaze — continually repeating the mantra ‘she’d be better off without you.’ to stop himself from reaching out and touching you like he so desperately wants to. he misses you, that much is a fact, but that doesn’t mean he no longer craves to be with you, breathe you in, be by our side.

satoru had let you go three-hundred and sixty-five days ago with the hopes of you coming back to him.  

maybe this was it.

you don’t take kindly to being ignored, leaning forward with your papers and files tucked securely against your chest in order to garner his attention. satoru adjusts his dress shirt, plays with his cuffs, inspects his surroundings — anything to avoid you and make a fool out of himself. or worse, mess everything up for you. his therapist had called his previous and past behaviours a self-destructive tornado — destroying everything in its path without regard.

he couldn’t go back to that.

“gojo, don’t pretend like i don’t exist,” you pout in annoyance — reminding your ex all too much of the times you spent together at your dorms. “i see you and you see me. we’re adults, surely you can handle a conversation.” it’s your teasing tone that finally makes gojo cave, sparing you a starry, blue eyed glance. 

he can’t help the cocky chuckle that escapes him, almost slipping back into his old and familiar ways with you. “you wanna talk to me that bad, huh? did you miss me or somethin’?” it’s a condescending and patronising thing to say — almost as if he’s treating you like a child. 

that makes you stand up right, heat rising to your cheeks at the familiar feeling — you’re not mad though. “i see you’re still as full of yourself as ever.” 

it’s satoru’s turn to pout this time, shifting his focus to a corner of the rising elevator . “h-hey! i’m working on it!” you’ve never seen him so nervous, not in your entire life of knowing him…but you suppose a lot can change in a year. you’re sure he’s different, just like you are. “yanno…therapy ‘n stuff. it helps. helped.” 

“oh yeah?” you hum curiously, knowing that he’s making reference to your break up, losing suguru. you don’t dare to press further, though. “me too.” the pair of you fall silent for a moment, sitting with the unaddressed awkwardness, the tension and unresolved feelings. “how…how are you? how’s things?” 

he’s surprised that you’ve even asked, let alone want to talk to him after everything he’d put you through. it’s weird but also clear that you’d been working on healing too — what’s a conversation between two adults then? “good,” satoru starts, though he’s being far from honest. he misses you. “i’ve been working to finally take over dad’s company. old man’s retiring, so i thought i’d play my part and be responsible for once.” 

you grin warmly at the news. “it sounds like you’re doing well, toru.” he nearly jumps at the familiar nickname, choosing not to respond. “not that you asked, but i’m kind of in the same boat? they’re putting me at a deputy manager’s position for my magazine’s new branch. i’m excited.”

“i’ve heard,” the words rush from satoru’s mouth before he can stop them, feeling sheepish as you raise a brow at him. “not that i’ve been stalking you or anything! you hear things when you’re at the top!” 

“yeah, sure.” you tease, enjoying watching gojo squirm.

a question he’s not sure he’s allowed to ask sits on the tip of his tongue and satoru pushes it around in his mouth hesitantly. “how…how’s suguru?”

you perk up, tentatively choosing what to say next. “o-oh…he’s good? we’re…our relationship is better now. it took a lot of work, but he’s healthy and happy. i… i think he misses you sometimes but, he’s still not ready yet.” 

gojo nods once and chooses not to press about his ex best friend further. “and how are you?” 

“m-me? i thought we’d just went over that—“

your ex turns to face you fully, a pleading look on his face that shocks you out of your casual stance. you can still see how much he adores you and cares for you, as if it never left his nature to want the best for you. 

“are you happy?” 

he asks the loaded question like it’s easy to answer and you do have to think about it. are you happy? you’ve been putting in the work to feel like that again, after breaking it off with satoru you were low. almost rock bottom. it was your first ever break up and it hit hard — not to mention you didn’t have your older brother to fall back on at the time. you knew it was time to stop depending on others, it was time to grow your own spine. you took to therapy, you learned your triggers and icks and red flags. it took time and patience with yourself, but here you were, a year later and a little happier than when you saw satoru last. 

“yeah,” you confirm with a shy nod, taking interest in your feet while you hide your smile. “i’m happy. with myself, my work and my partner—“ 

partner? 

“—you’re dating someone?” gojo quips as the elevator dings for the floor just before his. 

“ahh yes! it’s still new but… he makes me happy. yuuta okkotsu, you might have seen him around? i hear his family’s company and yours have done some work together.” you seem bashful as you talk about yuuta, someone you met through work, someone your age. a sense of pride in being together taking over you. you show him off and boast about him in a way that you wished gojo would have done for you. 

the revelation nearly kills satoru — it’s like a bullet to the chest or a knife to his heart. envy bleeds from the open wound, pours down his front and taints his blood stream. it fucking hurts to know that you’ve moved on to someone who treats you better than he ever could…but you deserve it. you were so good to him and to the world that it would seem like a crime for you to end up with someone who didn’t love and appreciate you in the ways that they should. 

that doesn’t make him feel any better though, it makes him feel as though he might die. 

when the elevator reaches the gojo’s floor  — he falters in stepping out without saying goodbye or replying to you. he would be doing it to hurt you, and to be spiteful or petty. just like back then. 

there’s still so much that he wants to say to you — so many things he wants to fix but he can’t shake the feeling that this was it. this was closure for the both of you. 

as he exits, he whirls around with enough time to spare before the doors close on you, and this chapter of both of your lives — just catching your bewildered expression. “thank you, for everything,” gojo calls to you fondly, watching your previous expressions morph into something soft and appreciative. “i…i really did love you, and if i could go back and do those two years over again. i’d be better, for you. i’d love you, properly.” 

the doors to the elevator slowly begin to close and satoru steps forward at the same time as you — it feels like you’re sharing one last goodbye. 

“i know,” you say without a trace of malice, a wistfulness in your voice. “i’m thankful to have been with you, because you taught me so much in such little time. i’d do it again, if we were better.”

a sad smile tugs at the corner’s of gojo’s pink lips. “in another life?”

“in another life.” you confirm, mirroring his smile as the elevator finally seals itself shut — leaving him with his reflection on it’s cool, metal doors.

it’s a shame that you only have one life, and that there aren’t any do overs. that way, everyone could live a life without regret — because gojo has his regrets, where he wishes that he loved you better, harder, more…so that you’d come back to him and you would be his.

 always.

so redditors and other losers lurking on this thread. that’s my update. i already know a lot of you are going to say that i deserve this — and i do. but i’m happy for her, for both of them and i wish them both all the best. whaddya say, am i still the asshole? 

END.

꒰ thank you for reading. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[personasintro]

Mutual Help | #58

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, suggestive content

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 20.1k+

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢ 

The first issue happens shortly after your shenanigans with Jungkook.

Everything has been dealt with regarding your planned and first official vacation. Accommodation, flight tickets, even some of the activities all of you have agreed on. While you had enough time to dwell back into your working life (Jungkook free to some extent), each day has become closer to the D-day. 

You're not going to lie. You're excited to get out of Seoul – as much as you love the city – and experience some fun memories with your friends. With them, you will have the time of your lives. However, all plans come crashing down with a single message from Jimin. 

For some reason, his previous planned holiday is canceled by his boss himself. They're low on the employees and there's nothing else that could be done. 

“Maybe there will be a last minute change but I don't think that's gonna happen. I think I should cancel my flight tickets while I can.” Is what he said through a message. 

Taehyung was the one who took it the worst. To explain it correctly, Taehyung cursed the shit out of Jimin's boss and how devilish it is of him to ruin the holiday. Holiday without Jimin sounds sad and suddenly, none of it seems as exciting as you once thought. 

Perhaps the reason behind your sulky mood is the fact that you don't like when something is not going according to plans. Or more like – you're excited about something, already imagining and having a certain vision of things when it suddenly gets ruined. Funnily enough, Jimin is the one who takes it the best. He laughed and joked about it, though he surely does feel a little upset by the sudden changes. 

Nobody wants their summer holiday to get taken away, especially when he has to be working instead. Jimin insists all of you should go regardless of his absence when the idea of trying to get another date comes to the surface. Though, that's even trickier when three people have to change their already confirmed and planned holidays. There are your co-workers who have scheduled free days too. To say it shortly – it's not easy at all and would bring more trouble than good. 

Even Jungkook who's his own boss has scheduled photoshoots and overall work. He could possibly cancel it, but that would bring no good to his name and business. Plus, he would lose money obviously. 

Jimin stays positive and prays that maybe someone from their team will come to the rescue. 

It's a little more than two weeks before your planned vacation. You're in the middle of folding your freshly washed and dried clothes while Jungkook's humming can be heard in the background. You video-chat him, giving him advice on what clothes to give away to charity. Something he has been doing for a while now. 

Taehyung would tell him to sell everything and Jimin would tell him to give away everything. You, on the contrary, can reason with him. The piece of clothing he hasn't worn for the last year is good to go, because he will probably never wear it again. It's why you help him with that instead of any of the guys. 

After that is done, you just casually chat which to be honest, you're glad for. It's not like you haven't done that in a long time, but it feels way more calm than anything you've done for the past few months. It's a nice change compared to your wild thoughts. You just can't bring yourself to dwell on it – because you're going to lose it. 

“Oh found this one just now,” Jungkook says, cutting off your thoughts which is probably for the best. 

You look at him, his phone propped on his kitchen counter and from the looks of it, you can just imagine the device leaned against his bowl of fruit. He stands with a leather jacket in his arms, showing it off so you could see it better. Little does he know, that article of clothing is not one to be forgotten. 

“What do you think?”

“You want to give it away?” you almost gasp, hands on your hips with a mouth agape.

“Why not?”

“Because it's the legendary jacket, you can't just give it away.” you protest, seeing him blink at you a few times before he bursts out into the cutest fit of laughter.

Teeth on display, nose scrunched along with the ends of his eyes, he laughs. “Legendary jacket? What are you even talking about?”

You pout, rolling your eyes at him.

“It's just a regular leather jacket. Everyone's got one of these.”

“That might be true,” you start, Jungkook's eyes wide as he teasingly nods, motioning that he's listening. “But it looks way too good. Plus, you wear it often, right?”

God, you hope he does. Now is not the time to thirst over him and how fucking good he looks in that stupid jacket, but well… that's exactly what's happening right now.

“I haven't worn it in a while, it's too hot for it.”

“See? You will wear it once it's colder. Keep it.”

Jungkook stares at the jacket for a moment, his eyes glinting and watching the screen where you're currently finishing up folding your clothes. With a tiny smirk, he places the jacket to the side and leans against the counter. His forearms rest on it, head cocking to the side.

“I can't believe Jimin is not going with us.” Jungkook admits, mouth curling into a displaying frown which you immediately mirror without even looking at him.

Sitting on the couch with your phone in your hand, you sigh disappointedly. “Don't even mention it. I'm so upset over that. Honestly, what a stupid boss.”

“It happens here a lot though.”

“I know,” you whine, “But still. It ruined our plans and I feel so bad for him. We're gonna have fun and he will have to stay here and work. It won't be a proper vacation without him there. It was supposed to be all of us.”

“Jimin wants us to have fun.” he responds with a soft tone, thinking of the stupid situation himself. 

“It's not gonna be it when he's not there.”

“It fucking sucks,” Jungkook sighs. “Maybe he'll be able to join us last minute.”

“I doubt it,” you frown, Jungkook snickering at your pessimistic self as you give him a glare, knowing exactly why he's laughing. “He would have to get his flight tickets at the last minute, plus his accommodation is already canceled. What if the place we'll stay at won't have any free space?”

“There's a couch, he could sleep there.” he shrugs.

“Nah, flight tickets would be a problem. It's vacation season.”

“Or maybe he will be glad to spend some time with his girlfriend.”

You frown, “Not wanting to pull out Taehyung but he's with her almost all the time.”

“And how would you know that?” Jungkook chuckles.

“Well, when he's not working or with us, he's obviously with her.”

Jungkook keeps grinning, not really having any argument because he knows you're right.

“You sound like Taehyung.” he teases.

“Oh fuck off!” You both laugh. “It's true though.”

“It is. Can you blame him?”

“What do you mean?”

“If I had a girlfriend I would wanna be with her too.”

You frown at that again, staring at Jungkook on your screen who seems to shrug innocently. “But Jimin was excited to go to Hawaii.”

“Yes,” he says slowly, “I'm just saying that even if he's not going, he would spend time with his girlfriend and he would enjoy it either way. So no need to be too sad for him. He himself isn't too upset with it.”

“Men,” you sigh, “You all think of pussies.”

“Y/N!” Jungkook almost chokes at your honesty.

“What? Just sayin',” you mutter, ���This is important, Kook.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “I was just trying to make you not feel so bad for him. He will be fine. He's a big boy.”

You snicker, “It's a bummer.”

“I know, but I promise you… we will have a good time. Even if it's just three of us.”

“Yeah, I know that–” you mutter, pouting. “Just will miss Jimin there.”

“Speaking of the devil, he's calling me.” Jungkook says, eyes attached to the top of his screen. “I will just call him after this.”

You cackle. 

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

“Come on now,” he groans, “It's impolite to end a call just like that.”

“Just admit you love talking to me.”

He rolls his eyes, laughing as he keeps grinning at the screen. Your own mouth turning upwards as something within your chest tickles. “I do.” 

He admits and that something bursts. You freaking look away with a smile, almost too close to giggling loudly like a freaking teenager. You stop yourself, clearing your throat. 

“You should've seen your face,” he suddenly bursts out laughing. “What was that? Do I make you flustered, Y/L/N?”

“You wish, Jeon.” you spit jokingly right away, your senses acting automatically. 

He suddenly sneezes, loudly and forcingly, your head tilting to the side as he lifts up his gaze, eyes mischievous as a teasing grin makes it onto his face again. “I'm sorry, I'm allergic to your bullshit.”

You gasp loudly, “You piece of shit. I'll get you back for that, Jeon.”

“Yeah, wonder how,” he teases cheekily, “Why's Jimin still calling me? Wait hold on–”

He grabs his phone, tapping something there as you get another angle of his face.

“This angle is funny. Too bad I can't see your double-chin. This could be my payback.” you joke, Jungkook clearly too immersed in reading something to pay you his full attention.

You purse your lips. “Hello? I'm trying to be funny here.”

His eyes widen, your smile dropping.

“Kook?”

“Holy shit,”

“What?”

“Fuck, fuck,” He stands up, almost dropping his phone. “Jimin just texted me–Taehyung is in the hospital.”

“What?!” You yell, standing up abruptly as you clutch the phone in your hands. “Jungkook, talk to me! What happened?”

“I literally don't know!” he exclaims. “Jimin just got the call and tried to reach us.”

“Us? He didn't call me!” you panic, checking your notifications to see them empty. Fuck. You would not forgive yourself if you somehow ignored his messages, even though it wouldn't be entirely your fault.

“Fuck, we need to get there. He's going there right now.”

“Is it serious?” you ask, voice shaking at the thought of Taehyung and something happening to him. He's in a hospital which means it's something serious. 

Jungkook stops pacing, hearing the shakiness in your voice. Bringing the phone closer to his face, he watches you. “I'll come get you, alright?”

You nibble on your nails, nodding still staring ahead of you. 

“Y/N,” Jungkook calls out to you. “He's gonna be okay, alright?”

“You don't know that.” you scoff.

“We don't know any details, so let's not jump into conclusions, okay? Just wait there, alright? I will drive to your place right now.”

“Where would I go?” you exclaim, clearly stressed which Jungkook doesn't blame you for. Instead of calling you out for your attitude, he knows you're worried and stressed.

“Just don't drive anywhere.”

“I won't.” you promise, voice softening. 

“I will call you once I'm there. Don't go outside, it's too late.”

“Jungkook, stop worrying so much.” 

He groans, grabbing his keys as the screen keeps glitching here and there how quickly he's moving. “It's too late. Wait inside.” 

“Okay, sir.” you mutter dryly, Jungkook stopping just to glare at you. 

“Stop messing around. I am not.”

“Jesus, sorry.” 

He rolls his eyes. “Keep your pretty ass in your home. I'll call you when I get there.”

“Then get your pretty ass here, Jeon.” you roll your eyes to give back at him.

He sighs, closing his front door with a loud thud. The connection glitches for a second, his internet changing to his mobile data as he waits for the elevator. “Fuck it.” You hear him muttering, running for the stairs.

You keep pacing in your living room, biting off your nails while not having Taehyung beside you to scold you for doing so. Your heart clenches and worry overcomes you once again. It's Jungkook's car door closing that brings your attention back, watching him put his phone into the phone holder. 

“Kook?” 

“Hm?” he says, putting on his seatbelt as he turns on the engine. 

“Drive safely, okay?”

“I will,” he promises, but you keep giving him the same desperate look. “I promise.”

You smile nervously, ending the call just to be met with a spam of messages from Jimin. 

Jungkook comes shortly after, just enough for you to check all the lights and gas before you leave. He definitely drove over the speed limit but you don't dare to scold him once he calls you. You spot the familiar Mercedes slowing down the parking lot just as your phone rings. Just like he wanted, you stayed inside. Knowing there's a low chance of something happening to you – considering this neighborhood is pretty much safe and you've walked when it was way later than now  – you also know he cares about your safety, so you didn't feel like disobeying his direct orders. Or more like a plea that would end up in a frustrating scolding if you didn't listen to him. 

Once you get inside the car, you buckle your seatbelt and Jungkook speeds out of the parking lot, rushing to the hospital where Jimin texted him details.

“Jimin is there.”

“What happened? Did he tell you?”

Jungkook shakes his head, checking on you for a split second before his eyes are back on the road. “No, he's still waiting.”

Luckily, the hospital where Taehyung's at is not that far away and it takes you approximately around fifteen minutes to get there, with all the red lights you had to stop at.

You've never had to go to a hospital here because something happened to one of your friends. To go through this and watch how Jungkook says Taehyung's name at the reception, trying to get any information doesn't sit with you well. You're full of nerves, sticking to Jungkook's side as he handles everything by himself. The nurse questions your relation to Taehyung but luckily, has no problem giving you directions of where to find your friend. 

“Couldn't she tell us if he's alive?” you grumble beside Jungkook as he tries to follow her directions from before. 

Jungkook chuckles, “If he wasn't, she wouldn't just tell us where to find him.”

Sighing, you follow Jungkook the entire time. “Have you been here before?” you question him in the elevator, a suspicious, curious look glinting in your eyes where worry was found before. 

Jungkook gives you a side-glance, sighing before looking ahead. “I have.”

When he doesn't elaborate and is silent, you lean yourself forward to catch his eyes. “When?”

He straightens his posture.

“It's just because you kinda know your way around here.”

You don't remember him mentioning being hospitalized here, nor coming here for examinations. There's a chance you simply don't know about that. There might be things you haven't told each other, it's practically impossible knowing everything about each other. But you feel if it came to this topic, you would know about it. 

But you don't. 

“I was here with Kiko.”

You halt, a taken back expression taking over your face.

“And because of Kiko.” He adds, clearing his throat at the mention of his ex. Almost as if you would bite off his head just for mentioning her name. 

You chuckle at that. “Oh, I didn't know that.”

“Yeah, didn't think of mentioning it before.” he mutters.

“Was she hospitalized here?”

“Do you really wanna know or you're just nosy?” he teases, wiggling his brow at you as you roll your eyes.

“Just answer, Jeon.”

“My curious delicate flower,” he continues to tease, ruffling your hair in the process as you elbow him in the ribs. “She had something with her shoulder once, she went here for rehabilitation.”

“Oh,” you let out slowly. “Was she fine after that?”

Feeling a burn of someone's gaze, you see Jungkook side-eyeing you. “Don't pretend like you care.” he chuckles, shaking his head at you as you smack your lips at him in annoyance.

“I wanna know! Stop making it seem like I'm a heartless monster!” 

“I wouldn't dare.” he jokes, continuing to shake his head as you sigh in irritation at your very annoying friend. 

“I advise you that.”

He snickers, “Damn, so scary.”

“Jungkook, seriously. I'm gonna kick you in the balls if you're gonna continue this.” you warn him, hearing him laugh as he leans against the elevator's wall. 

You glance at him, annoyed expression as his brow cockily lifts up. 

“Not the balls, damn, you monster.”

“Keep talking and you'll see the real monster.” you mutter, your bickering interrupted by the elevator's ring, informing you of your floor. 

Walking out of there, all the fun disappears as soon as you see and smell the sterile surroundings again, along with sick patients of all sorts which truly breaks your heart. You understand why someone hates hospitals so much. You never truly belong to that people, never really had that awful experience. Everyone you lost in the family had left at their peaceful homes. You never had to say goodbye to anyone here. 

Although, you do remember visiting your father's mother – your dear grandmother  – when you were a kid. Unfortunately, she passed away when you were around six. The only thing that bothers you to this day is that you don't have many memories with her. Since you were a little kid, you only remember very little. Plus, there are days when you wished she was still here. To talk about the craziness you've experienced in both families. To help her and show her your gratitude for raising your dad and his four siblings, when she was all alone. She was truly an inspiration for you. 

Your dad says you get a lot from her. You'll never forget a conversation you had with him about her. 

“You remind me of her sometimes. She had a good heart like you have.”

That's what he told you when you were around eighteen. Your dad is not a sentimental person. He doesn't usually say many heart-warming things, so to hear him saying that just made you emotional. Thinking of it now, it still does in a way.

“Sorry, we are here looking for our friend? They told us at the reception he's on this floor. Kim Taehyung?” Jungkook stops one of the nurses, surprisingly stopping a male who kindly shows you the way to see your friend. 

Jungkook looks behind, making sure you're there as he gives you an encouraging smile. You wonder if he's scared as fuck of what you're about to see as well. Is he pretending to be brave and having his shit together because of you? Are you preaching? 

Jungkook is the most caring friend. You don't believe he's not worried as much as you are. 

“Ready?” he asks, tilting his head toward the direction the nurse sent you. 

Naturally, like your body calls for his proximity and safety, you wrap your arms around his forearm, clutching to his side as you give him a nod. He leads you to one of the rooms, both of you cautiously peeking inside as the scene in front of you makes you both gasp loudly, catching everyone's attention in the room. 

There he is. 

If someone told you you will see Kim Taehyung laying in a hospital bed, you would laugh him off for some reason. All of you would. So to not only see him lying there but having a huge cast on his leg, his face pale and hair unkempt, you and Jungkook gulp at the sight. 

Jimin stands there, arms crossed over his chest as his hands rub his lips nervously. A woman stands next to him, a little behind him, noticing your and Jungkook's presence immediately. 

That has to be her.

But before any of you can pay her attention, Taehyung steals it without even knowing as he groans. 

“What the hell happened?” You almost shriek as a panicked mother, tearing yourself off Jungkook's side as you rush to Taehyung's side, Jungkook following you right after.

Both of you having a concerned look, Taehyung takes a minute to recognize you. You make a grimace, you and Jungkook giving Jimin a stare as he goes to say something, but he's interrupted by the patient himself. 

“You guys are here?” He looks shocked, making sure it's really you as he squints his eyes at you both.

“Of course we are–what happened, Tae?”

“Ah, don't even ask! That shit is so fucking embarrassing!” he dramatically sighs, slapping his palm over his forehead as he disappointedly shakes his head at himself.

“Can he just tells us what the fuck happened to him?” Jungkook mutters under his breath, causing you to elbow him like before.

Jimin clears his throat, “He was at the gym and accidentally dropped one of the dumbbells on his feet.”

“Jimin-ah!”

“Man they asked!” Jimin exclaims, trying to keep calm. 

“You guys came here because of me?” Taehyung pouts, changing the topic as you and Jungkook stare at him completely dumbfounded. What is wrong with him?

“Of course we did,” you assure him. “We would be here sooner, but Jimin had to call us. Why didn't you call us too?” you frown.

“Actually, the nurse called me. Taehyung gave them my number.”

“Well, that's great.” you mutter.

“Well, I'm sorry!” Taehyung mocks you, slapping his arms against the fluffy duvet he has thrown over one side of his body. “How could I know if you guys are not fucking somewhere behind our backs?”

“We don't do that!” Jungkook reacts.

The room is filled with craziness. 

Jimin sighs, deadpanning at his friend. You and Jungkook loudly gasp, your hand over your fast beating heart. 

The room is silent after that, Jimin's eyes directed somewhere behind you and Jungkook. You both turn around to see a nurse coming in, an awkward smile attached on her lips as she holds the clipboard with her. 

“We had to give him some painkillers, he was close to crushing his toes. He's a little drugged by now.” she informs you, perhaps trying to make you less embarrassed because of your friend. 

“I will come back and fill you with more information.” She sets up the clipboard on his bed, everyone bowing to her as she reciprocates it before walking away. 

“Ignore him, he's drugged.” Jimin apologizes to the female beside him, her eyes eyeing you and Jungkook as you shift on your spot. 

“Yeah, he's just babbling nonsense.” 

Taehyung scoffs, luckily keeping his mouth shut about this topic. “Yeah, by the way guys, Jimin brought his girlfriend. They were on a date when his friend was dying.”

“You weren't dying, Taehyung.” Jimin corrects him, giving him a stern look as the younger friend puts his lips into a thin line, frowning. “Ah, guys. This is Rin. Wanted to introduce you to her under different circumstances but well, babe–” 

Taehyung gags in the distance. “Knowing you, you would've kept her secret for another year.”

“This is Y/N and Jungkook. My friends.” Jimin grits through his teeth, giving a forced smile to his blonde girl. 

“It's nice to meet you. Jimin talked about you a lot.”

“Really? Because he really didn't–”

You kick Taehyung's mattress, ignoring his nasty glare as you both bow at each other. 

“Nice meeting you too, Rin. Welcome to the craziness.” Jungkook chuckles, “Jimin is a great guy. Hope this didn't traumatize you.”

She giggles, Jimin laughing nervously while you watch Taehyung who sulks in his spot. “No. It didn't.” she assures Jimin as she cuddles up to him. 

“Tae, how are you feeling?” you ask, focusing your attention on your sulking friend. 

You sit on the edge of his bed, brushing a few strands off his hair.

“Embarassed and like a fucking idiot,” he mutters. “I got so much attention at the gym. Fuck, I am used to attention but not that kind.”

“The most important thing is that you are okay, Taehyung.” Jungkook butts in, trying to sound gentle as he eyes his friend's new cast. 

Taehyung scoffs, “Does this seem fine to you?”

“I meant it that you're alive. You'll have this cast for a few months but you will be fine. You're lucky nothing worse happened to you.” Jungkook explains. 

“Fuck, I feel high,” he sighs, dropping his head on the pillow as he stares at the ceiling. He gulps, whining. “What about Hawaii? Fucking hell. I can't go.”

The realization hits all of you, yours and Jungkook's eyes meeting as you pout. 

“We can go next year.” Jungkook tries but you know it will only do so little. 

“We will cancel it too. There's no point in going when both of you don't go.” you tell him, Taehyung frowning as Jimin gives you an empathic smile. 

“No, you guys have to go.” Taehyung says, your eyes lifting up in surprise. But before you can say something, mouth already opening, he continues. “Everything's paid for. Jimin barely got the money back for flight tickets, I don't think I will get mine. It's too close to date.”

“Tae is right,” Jimin agrees, “You can still enjoy it without us.”

“I would hate myself if you didn't go there because of my clumsiness,” Taehyung admits, frowning. “Y/N you were so excited to see Hawaii.”

You stare, pouting as your eyes get teary for some reason. The entire situation is shitty as fuck and Taehyung's pale face is not helping. 

“You have to go.”

“I'm sure accommodation can be arranged just for the two of you. It's worth a shot.” Jimin says.

“We could try but I don't know…” Jungkook groans, sighing in disappointment at the fucked up situation. “We'll talk about it later. You're more important now, Tae. What can we do for you?” 

You nod, listening to Taehyung who sighs, cracking his neck. “I would die for McDonald's right now.”

Snorting, you shake your head at your friend. 

“You shouldn't eat right now, Tae. You have a good amount of meds inside you. It would probably make you sick.” Jimin reminds him. 

“We should just wait for the nurse to give us more information. Then we can figure it out from there.” you say, Jimin and Jungkook nodding in agreement. 

“This fucking sucks.” 

You make yourself comfortable on Taehyung's current bed, humming. “Tell me something about it.”

A few minutes later, a male in his mid-thirties (you're guessing) comes in. Wearing a white coat, you almost forgot how handsome some doctors can look, he eyes everyone in the room – mostly surprised to see so many people but then none of you are family members. He does question it but doesn't send you away. 

“...fortunately, Mr. Kim, your accident hasn't permanently damaged any of your nerves or bones. You'll have to wear a cast for a couple of weeks until it's healed, and after that you will need to be careful. But we'll take it from there and discuss further recovery steps.”

Taehyung looks like he's five seconds from dozing off or as if he could care less, you're trying to hold back your laugh while Jimin and Jungkook are the responsible ones. They keep nodding and looking seriously at the doctor using terms you've never heard before. You're sure none of them have and the fact they act like they do makes you want to laugh. Rin stays behind, sitting on the chair next to a window. You get a feeling she might feel not unwelcomed, but definitely out of her comfort zone. 

She sees four friends sticking together, three of them that she hasn't seen before. Honestly, it's not weird to see a woman next to Jimin. It is weird to see the affection they have going on, even though so far it has been pretty low-key. 

As the doctor finishes and informs Taehyung he's able to go home after they run some tests on him, he gives you a shortly lasting look. You smile, looking away in shyness as you're met with Jungkook's side-eyed frown. He has done that a lot today, you think.

You just innocently shrug, both of your attentions turned to Taehyung who starts to complain all over again. 

“You guys should go. You were on a date, right? Me and Kook will take care of him.” you tell Jimin, feeling bad not because they had to cut off their date, but you feel bad toward Rin. 

She probably wants to be with her boyfriend, it has probably been too many events for her tonight. You could sympathize with her and imagine what it feels like for her. Besides, there are three of you here. There's no need for all of you to be here. Taehyung will be fine. 

Someone just has to wait with him for more tests and results, so he's really safe to go home. Plus, he needs to be driven home as his ride here was an ambulance – something he's still complaining about how awkward it was when it arrived in front of the gym. 

“Yeah, go. They will take care of me.” Taehyung mutters like the child he can be, met with yet another glare from you. 

Jungkook tries not to laugh while Jimin frowns. “No. We could wait here and drive him to my place.” Jimin argues, turning to Rin. “You don't mind, right?”

“Fucking hell,” Taehyung whispers under his breath. “Why are you asking her? Just go and have your date.” He rolls his eyes at Jimin who clenches his jaw.

“I don't mind.” Rin tells him silently, assuring him.

“Somebody's gonna have to take care of your ass, Taehyung-ah. You can't be alone at home right now.”

“I'm not a child.”

“Sometimes you act like it.”

“Okay,” you butt in, standing up. “It's too late to be arguing in a freaking hospital. So get it together, both of you–” You're met with a glare from both of them. “Jimin wants to be here for you, so don't be childish Taehyung. They can have a date another time.”

“What she means to say is–” Jungkook starts, standing behind you. “We're all willing to stay here and help.”

Jimin and Rin have a silent conversation as Taehyung purses his lips and closes his eyes, ignoring his surroundings. Deep down, you know he wants Jimin to be here for him. He's just childish because Jimin is dating now and even though Rin doesn't seem to be a bad girl, it's different now. Suddenly, there's another person in his life and in their friendship as well. It awfully reminds you of the situation you had with Jungkook. 

It's still slightly different but similar in many ways. You know how Taehyung feels. The difference is that Taehyung also knows shit about relationships. He can't understand why Jimin, the guy who used to fuck purely for fun and enjoyment, is now dating someone. 

“Guys, could you drop off Rin at her house? She lives nearby, so it's not too far away.”

“Yeah, sure. No problem.” Jungkook responds. 

“Come on, it's late. We should all go to sleep. They can handle it from there,” you say, motioning for Rin to join you. “Don't worry, we're friendly and don't bite.” 

She laughs, some of her nervosity dropping.

“Yeah, they're too into each other to care about anyone else.” Taehyung comments.

“Y'know what Taehyung? If you don't want your other leg in a cast, you better shut up.” you warn him, feeling Jungkook's hand on your lower back as he shakes his head, silently telling you it's not worth it as an amused smile plays on his lips. 

“Which one?” Taehyung asks cheekily, having the time of his life when he watches your realization into disgust.

“Jesus, man. You should sleep it off.”

“That's not gonna help. This is Taehyung we're talking about.” you murmur to Jungkook.

Taehyung is about to say another nonsense, stopped by Jimin's palm as he gives him a warning stare before he walks up to you and Jungkook.

“Guys, please do not interrogate her. Okay?” Jimin pleas, sounding nervous as you and Jungkook share a knowing look. “No, please. Don't look at each other like that.” 

Little does he know it wasn't because of what he thinks it is, that you will go against his wishes, but it's the cuteness of how he doesn't want to ruin anything between them. You've never had a chance to see him like this. 

“Don't worry, we're gonna be on our best behavior.” Jungkook jokes, causing Jimin to whine but there's no time to have such a silly conversation. 

Jimin turns to Rin, telling her something before they share a kiss. You're ready to squeal at the cuteness as Jungkook tries not to laugh at you, cheekily poking you in your side while Taehyung looks grumpy.

“I'll text you and see you tomorrow, okay?” You hear Jimin say just as you bid goodbye to Taehyung, who's already too sleepy. 

Jungkook pats the top of his head before you leave Jimin with him and part your ways. But not before you hear Jimin's silent scolding. “You see? This is exactly why I didn't want to–”

You and Jungkook try not to laugh on your way out of the room, sharing a look in the hallway as Rin silently follows you, probably wondering who the hell has she just met. 

“She's quiet.”

You break a silence by stating something both of you are thinking. Rin is not exactly communicative, kept it very casual and both, you and Jungkook, could get the hint of her not wanting to really talk. 

“She might've felt bad because of Taehyung.” Jungkook responds, a thoughtful frown making it on his face as he drives you through familiar streets that lead toward your home. 

During the slightly awkward drive to Rin's place, Jungkook tried to excuse Taehyung's behavior, thinking it's the main reason for Rin's distant behavior. It's not like she wasn't friendly or has done something out of place. She was just… quiet. She kept it simple, not engaging in any further topics. And regarding Taehyung, she just said it's okay and that was it. 

It was certainly none of you have expected. You tried to make the atmosphere lighter, forcing chuckles and grins for her own sake but she just didn't seem to care. You're not going to lie, that stung a little and you had to grit your teeth to prevent yourself from really asking her – What's up?

But then you realize, you have no idea how she's feeling. She met all three of you in the span of one hour and with Taehyung's insanity and even bolder mouth than ever, it has been a lot for her probably. 

It's not like the three of you are too much to handle, right? 

“You think so?”

Jungkook chuckles at your question, “Tae took it too far. Anyone would've felt uncomfortable.”

“Come on, he's on drugs–” you scoff out a chuckle as if that excuses him. “He wasn't fully himself.”

“He was pretty much Taehyung, what are you sayin'?” Jungkook laughs.

You smack your lips together, a laugh escaping past them as you gently nudge his arm. “You know what I mean–he would've behaved slightly differently if he wasn't in that state.”

“Hm, that could be true,” he mutters, driving with one hand as the other rubs his lips thoughtfully. “Maybe she's just shy, would explain a lot.”

“Maybe,” you hum, “Can you believe it though? Our Jimin has a girlfriend. Who would've thought?”

“Not me,” Jungkook jokes, quoting one of the famous sounds on TikTok which causes both of you to break into laughter. “I hope she's not terrified of us–or Tae.”

“There's nothing to be terrified of when it comes to us!” you exclaim, giggling when you see Jungkook's grimace of pursed lips and raised brows. “I don't know. I thought it would go differently when we would finally meet her. Not like this.”

“None of us expected it,” Jungkook says, “But it doesn't matter. All that matters is that Taehyung is okay.”

“Oh god, he's gonna be such a drama queen once they release him. A cast on his leg?”

Jungkook laughs, knowing exactly what you mean when it comes to Taehyung. “He's gotta get used to it. At least for a while.”

While a short silence follows, one thought is rooted inside your mind which causes you to nibble on your lips. “Kook,”

“Hm?”

“This means we're going alone to Hawaii?”

Jungkook sighs, thinking through his answer as you watch the side of his face and how street's signs and lights illuminate his features. “If you want to.”

He stops at the red light, a few cars stopping behind you as you stare out of the window to avoid his stare once he glances at you. You see him in the reflection. His eyes momentarily watch your form, perhaps trying to decipher what you're thinking before he looks back ahead, staring at the road instead. 

“This is not how it was meant to be.” you mutter.

For some odd reason, you feel bad for even saying it. It almost sounds like you don't want to go with Jungkook. It's not that at all. Sure, the thought scares the fuck out of you – but Jimin and Taehyung were supposed to be there. All four of you. Making new memories and doing something new, something precious for your just as precious friendship. 

“We don't have to go. We could try next year.”

“No,” you shake your head, “Everything's paid for. It was already trouble enough to deal with Jimin's reservations and now it's the same with Taehyung.”

“Listen,” Jungkook sighs, the engine roaring back to life as the red light changes to orange. By the time it's green, Jungkook puts the car into drive and speeds through the main road. “I know it's not ideal, but I don't want you to go if you don't feel like it.”

“It's not ideal but–” you stop yourself, groaning at your stupid way of explaining your feelings. “I made it sound as if I didn't wanna go with you…” you trail off, somehow starting to feel nervous which is stupid. 

Jungkook stays silent. You're not sure if it's because he wants to listen to you or because he silently agrees. You did make it sound like that. 

“I just–would it be wise?”

“Wise?” Jungkook frowns.

“Well–just the two of us.”

Jungkook stares ahead before he throws you a quick glance. It takes approximately five seconds for him to release a chuckle as he shakes his head while you're the one who stares in confusion now. 

“So that's what you're nervous about?”

You roll your eyes, not being able to say anything. It's partly why you're so unsure about this. The last time you and Jungkook stayed alone… things happened. And while you would like to believe you're strong willed, there's a part of you that fears the exact opposite. 

It's insane how Jungkook gets it without you actually having to say anything.

“What? You can't keep it in your pants, Y/L/N?”

It's the cocky tone that makes your mouth drop open, but that single sentence is enough to make you stutter and you literally fight to get proper words out. “You're the one bringing that up!”

But Jungkook laughs, completely ignoring your evident attempt of trying to argue with his statement. 

“I didn't even think about that.”

“Mhm, mhm.”

He bursts out laughing, ignoring the way you glaring at his side with a huffy face. “What else did you mean then?”

“None of your business, Jeon.” you mutter, arms crossed over your chest as you fight back a smile when you hear his bubbly laugh next to you. 

“Oh, we're back to Jeon?”

“You're the first one that started with surnames,” you point out, giving him a playful roll of your eyes before you sigh and relax in the seat. “I just meant… maybe it's stupid but–we all know how it ended the last time. This is a vacation, Jungkook. We're gonna be miles and miles away. It sounds–”

“Couple-y?” He finishes your thought. He shakes his head with a gentle smile. “It sounds like fun to me. I'm still me, Y/N.” It's the way his last sentence sounds so gentle and vulnerable that it makes you feel like an idiot for even bringing it up. 

He's still the same Jungkook you've known for years. With or without intimacy.

You just had to talk about Hawaii one way or another. 

“Yeah–I know it sounds like that but I don't overthink it that much. I just meant–fuck, I guess it's a big change from our plans and just us going is…”

“You're scared.” he says, pointing out the obvious that makes you dryly swallow. 

You mentally groan and slap yourself. “How am I supposed to enjoy it when you will be right there?”

“Ouch.”

“No, not like that!” you correct yourself, groaning loudly this time. “You'll be a distraction.”

Jungkook laughs at that, “Distraction?”

“Yes!” you exclaim, growing frustrated but mainly from yourself and the fact you're talking about this. It makes you slightly embarrassed but at the same time it's a relief that you can talk about this so openly with him. “With Jimin and Taehyung there–”

“I can keep it in my pants,” he informs you of something you've heard many times before. “The question is–”

You inhale shakily.

“Can you?”

You stare ahead, eyes wide and mouth agape, tongue softly grazing your teeth.

Well–fuck.

“Listen, just let me know how you decided.”

Jungkook says with a window opened as you stand next to the driver's side, shifting on your spot nervously. You haven't talked much after that. There was not much time since Jungkook drove here in five minutes. 

“I'm stupid for saying shit like that.”

Jungkook frowns, “Hey, you're not stupid. You're unsure and feel bad for the guys.”

It's not even about the temptation and the stupid break you came up with. It's the entire change of plans you've mentioned to him as well. You made it sound as if it was all about the two of you, but the truth is it feels bad to go there without Taehyung and Jimin. 

And that's exactly what you tell Jungkook as you confess your once said thoughts. This time you're more serious. 

“You heard them. They want us to go either way. Even when we don't think about the money and how's everything already paid for–you were excited to go there,”

He slides his hand off the steering wheel and places it on his lap instead. 

“We're going there to enjoy our vacation. It might not be as we planned it, but we could still have fun. And deep down, I know you really wanna go there.”

“I do,” you admit after a while. When you think about it, this is your opportunity to go. Although, going there alone with him makes you awfully nervous. It's like a huge test for the two of you, one you're not ready for. “You know the last time when we were alone–”

“Mhm,” he says, prompting you to continue.

“I don't wanna make it seem as if that's all I'm thinking about, or that's how I see you but I guess–”

God why is it so hard to put any words out?

“I know,” Jungkook says gently, seeing you struggling a little to properly explain the crazy train of your thoughts. “You wanted us to focus on our friendship. I know, Y/N.”

He's so gentle that you almost want to cry out and have him hug you. You're in a desperate need of a hug. But it's too late and you both had a long day. 

“You sure you don't wanna go upstairs?” 

Jungkook smirks and you groan. “Not like that, Jeon.”

“I feel like I'm gonna pass out the second I take a shower and lay in my bed,” he jokes instead, “You should go inside, it's getting colder.”

You bite the inside of your cheek as you stare at your surroundings. “I wanna go, Kook.”

Jungkook turns his head to look at you, immediately realizing what you're talking about. He doesn't say it but the question in his eyes is clear. You sure?

“Yeah, I made a big deal out of it,” You sigh. “But I really wanna go with you. It would be stupid for us not to go.”

“Okay, then. I'll have to make some calls because of Taehyung, hopefully he will be able to get his money back. At least for the accommodation. If you change your mind, just let me know.”

“I won't,” you assure him with a smile, “And Kook?”

“Yes?”

“It's stupid but… I don't think I've ever felt nervous about you before. The last time was when we first met. Or the first time we started hanging out.”

“I made you nervous?” He laughs.

“Mostly everyone makes me nervous when I first meet them,” you scowl at him as you explain. “We barely hung out after we–took a break or whatever we wanna call it.”

Jungkook snorts at the way you roll your eyes when you say it. 

“I make you nervous. I don't know how to deal with this information.”

“Jeon,” you grit through your teeth, “It's not you. It's more… the situation and all.”

He grins, biting his lower lip before he releases it and stares at the distant street lights. “There's no need to be nervous. No kissing. No sex. We're on a sex ban. Just two best friends in Hawaii.”

You groan his name and at the way he says it with an utmost grin. This man is not serious. 

“That's not what I truly meant but–you know what? Nevermind. Let's just end it here.”

Jungkook doesn't press any further, simply opting for a gentle grin and change of topic. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You catch yourself wishing he would say something else instead of your name.

And that's your cue to turn around before silently wishing him a goodnight, telling him to drive safe and send you a message once he's home. Perhaps it's for the better that he stayed in his car. 

He waits until you're inside of the building before he drives out of the parking lot, his silver car slowly fading out until it fully disappears. What doesn't disappear are the mixed and crazed feelings that make you question every single thing that has been said. 

One thing you know for sure.

This vacation will be one hell of a ride. 

One, you can't prepare yourself for. One, you're close to shitting your pants for.

Rolling your suitcase down the sidewalk, Jungkook offers to take it but you decline. He has his own suitcase and full hands, therefore all he receives is just an appreciative smile as you enter the airport. 

Namjoon was kind enough to take you and since your flight is early in the morning, he had the time to drive you here.

Sorting out your luggage and going through the security doesn't take too long and before you know it, you're seated in the airplane fighting for a window seat with Jungkook. He lets you have it, of course and slumps into the seat next to you. With a happy and slightly annoying smile, you make sure he sees it as he playfully rolls his eyes.

Since there are still passengers sitting and putting away their luggage, you do have a little time before taking off. You take that time to quickly video chat with Jimin and Taehyung. While Jimin's preparing for his work, Taehyung curses you out for waking him up. Though, there's a tiny smile that tells you that it's okay to go without them and enjoy it to the fullest. 

You share your earphones with Jungkook, so he can hear them too. 

“You guys–” Taehyung sighs, eyes slightly swollen with tiredness. “This sucks but enjoy it, alright? And send me pictures.”

“We will.”

“Yeah, Kook took his camera with him.”

“You and your camera,” Taehyung jokingly shakes his head. “I could've had such nice pictures.”

“You have… lots of them actually,” Jungkook snickers, “We will take some next time.”

“Be safe guys, I gotta run to work but text us when you land.” Jimin says, his screen blurry as he keeps moving.

“Will do.” you assure them. “I'm sorry you guys couldn't come.”

“Stop,” Taehyung cuts you off, giving you a grin that feels oddly comforting. “Have the biggest fucking fun. I'm stuck in bed, so maybe I will annoy you with my phone calls.”

“Great.” Jungkook mutters, causing you to nudge him as the four of you laugh.

“We're about to take off. I will call you, Tae. Don't worry.”

“I am not. What I worry about though, is the amount of times I could've gotten laid. Now I'm stuck here with this fucking cast on.”

“Dude, chill out.” Jimin laughs. 

So do you and Jungkook. Shortly after you all end the call, you and Jungkook snickering between each other at Taehyung's biggest issue. 

While the pilot welcomes everyone on board and informs them of the destination and other important information, you make yourself comfortable in your seat as you place your head on Jungkook's shoulder. 

Jungkook looks down at you, smiling as you catch his glance. “Ready?”

“Is there anything left for me other than to be ready?”

“Well, you could chicken out. The plane is not in the air yet.”

You smack his side, sitting up straight as you're met with the familiar sight of his stretched smile and white pearls. “Dumbass.”

“Love you too.”

You look away, making sure he sees the roll of your eyes before doing so. Though a small smile plays on your lips and as you take off, plane soon in the clouds, you use Jungkook as the softest and best smelling pillow.

The adrenaline and excitement of what's awaiting for you does not allow you to sleep. Yet you don't move an inch, finding comfort in the man sitting beside you. And when you ask him to play with your hair, he does it without any questions. 

“Oh my god.” 

Is the first thing you let out as soon as you get out of the airport and see the beauty around you. The weather is not too hot for you to not have any sunglasses or hat on. You shield your eyes with a palm outstretched above them, stopping in the tracks as Jungkook tries to get a taxi. 

“Beautiful, isn't it?” Jungkook says once he locks his phone and puts it into the pocket of his shorts. “The place we are staying at is even more beautiful.”

Jungkook has managed to make a compromise with the owner of the place you're staying at during the next seven days. Since it would be for the best if Jimin and Taehyung got their money back, they made a deal on swapping apartments. This way the owner could still make a profit while complying with you.

That alone made you a little bit calm because so far, everything is going well and smoothly. 

“Our car should be here in five.” Jungkook informs you and ushers you to go in a shadow.

You obey, feeling already as if you're melting.

“What's our plan for today?”

You haven't really slept during the flight. Jungkook has booked a business class, something you've scolded him for because that's definitely something you haven't paid for when you sent him the money for your flight ticket. There was no need for that eight hour flight, but you both definitely made a good use of it. You turned on a movie and made yourself comfortable while eating snacks. Who knew having a drink on a plane can be actually so relaxing and fun at the same time?

You sit on your suitcase, squinting your eyes at Jungkook who pulls a cap from his suitcase and puts it on your head. 

“We're gonna settle in and maybe we could check the outside?”

“Sounds good.” 

The car comes around the time Jungkook said it would, an older man with a straw hat on welcomes you and helps you with your things. You both thank him and get inside – luckily – with an air condition on.

While he drives and gives you a quick tour of the road you're driving on, he answers any curious and informative questions Jungkook asks him. You sit silently, smiling at the man whenever he jokes around as you stare out of the window, appreciating the nature around you. 

And at that moment you think;

It's a good thing you decided to go.

You've seen the photos of where you were supposed to be staying. All four of you. But since that has changed and the two of you couldn't go, there had to be some changes made. Jungkook informed you about that, so that's no news to you. It would be no use for you and him to share a place designed for four and more people. 

Surrounded by nature and sea air, there's a whole street of houses. It's so close to the sea that you can hear the waves in the distance and smell the salted water. Surely, the location and vacation houses are one of the wealthiest ones, and you just can't seem to pry your eyes at what's around you. 

You let Jungkook handle everything, after you've grabbed your luggage and bid goodbye to the driver. He talks to the owner, or the person who is in charge of the vacation house you'll be staying at. Shortly after, Jungkook is given keys and after waving off one last person, you finally get out of the sun and get inside. 

The first thing you notice is the chilly air hitting your heated bodies, the two of you sighing in delight before you both laugh. 

“AC is gonna be our best friend here.” you comment, squinting your eyes as they adjust to the lack of sun.

“Just don't overboost it, yeah? Or else you're gonna end up sick.”

You turn to Jungkook with raised brows, who simply just shrugs as he sets the luggage down. 

“Says the person who always has his AC turned on in the car.” you point out the obvious fact you both know.

“My immune system is much better than yours.” he points out back, showing you the tip of his tongue in a teasing manner as you shake your head, trying to hide a smile.

Bickering with someone who knows you well – or best even – is tough. 

Now that's done and the two of you don't elaborate to bicker any further, you take the time to look around. The place you've seen from pictures looked different, customized for more people. This house is just as spacious and even though you're standing in the entryway, you can easily tell more people would be able to fit in here.

“Are you sure we're at the right place?” you ask, catching Jungkook sweeping his hair off his forehead with head leaned back. Mentally sighing at the painfully attractive sight, you turn around and admire the place you're in instead.

That's a safer choice anyway.

“It's beautiful, isn't it?” he asks instead, confirming that yes, you're at the right place. “Come on, let's see how it looks in person. The pictures were pretty great.”

You wonder why Jungkook hasn't shared them with you once he was able to switch houses. For sure, you haven't had that much time to talk about it. Everyone was busy with their jobs, you included, and then the accident with Taehyung happened which caused this entire planning to get rushed. Poor Jungkook took care of everything – but you know he's the best at it. 

When your mouth drops as you make it to the living room, you notice Jungkook grinning at the side of the entrance to the living room since there is no door. He wanted it to be a surprise.

One that appears to be more than successful.

“Kook–” you stop yourself. The entire side facing the sea is a window wall, giving the best view to the beach and sea. 

The floor is a darker wood, giving the room just the right balance of colors since there are a lot of light colors. The white couch is huge, in the shape of U, similar to what Jungkook owns at his place. There is a big beige carpet underneath the coffee table and couch, making it more cozy. A beautiful chandelier hangs down with transparent bulbs which is undoubtedly even more pretty at night. 

From up here, there's a porch with a pool and your legs itch to find out how big it is. 

It's a one floor beach house, a modern yet cozy one as Jungkook leads you to the right to show you the kitchen. It's a medium sized, smaller than the one he's got and you wonder why it's even here considering you'll get your food brought from the resort. 

The house ends from the left sounds but you move to the opposite side, jaw dropping at the beautiful bedroom. First of all, the interior is beyond any words and leaves you breathless. You've never seen something so beautiful in person. You could cry. And Jungkook's joyful grin is not helping at all.

The bed is not against any walls. It sits almost in the middle of the room. There's a panel behind it and further away, it leads you to a spacious bathroom. There are two sinks and a huge mirror – the room matched in turquoise and white colors.

“Jungkook–this is–how much did you spend on this?” you ask, turning to him with a hand on your hip with a frown. “This was definitely much more than you said.”

“Don't worry about it.”

“Jungkook, stop. I'm serious.”

“So am I,” he shrugs, sighing slightly. “I paid a little extra but it wasn't much.”

“I don't believe you.” You narrow your eyes at him as he cheekily grins and shrugs.

“Sounds like a you problem.”

“Jungkook!” 

However, your scolding is cut off by him simply walking away. The bed is facing the beach, the same view as you could see in the living room. Palms surround the house which create a little shade from the burning sun. 

There are dressers where you could store your clothes and stuff, but you don't pay any more attention to it as you follow Jungkook back to the entryway with a frown settled on your face. 

“Jungkook, I'm serious.”

“And so am I, Y/N,” he says simply, dragging your luggage to the living room. “I swear I didn't pay much. The owner wouldn't really have any other place for us. I wanted you to see this beach.”

You raise your brows at him, trying not to crack at the warm and sweet gesture.

“Plus I didn't want to stay anywhere else. So be mad at me all you want, but I'm happy to be here and from the looks of it, so are you.”

“Yes, but–”

“No, buts. Now get ready, we're leaving in twenty.”

You stammer over your words, mustering to ask only one word. “Where?”

“Out. Unless you wanna stay in and rest.”

He says, stopping as he turns around to look at you with raised brow, waiting for your response.

“Ah–no, I am fine with going out.”

“Good.”

And he leaves to the bedroom, “Oh–I hope you don't mind the one bedroom. They didn't have any houses with more rooms left. But I can sleep on the couch.” he calls out from there.

When you don't respond right away, his head pokes out of the corner with a awaiting gaze. 

“Why would I mind?” you breathe out, feeling like you just got awestruck. 

“Uhh–you want me to elaborate?”

You chuckle nervously, scratching your forearm before you shake yourself out of it and drop the expression. “Yah! You wanted to go out! So go get ready too!”

“Yes, m'am.” he salutes and disappears behind the wall of the bedroom. 

You stand there, sighing to yourself and at your fast beating heart. 

He's not going to make this easy, is he?

Happiness oozes out of you and as much as you were unsure about this vacation, you're glad the guys managed to talk you out of backing off. In the end, it was your decision to go without Jimin and Taehyung who are very much missed. Though, you're completely obvious to the fact it's going to be challenging. 

The heat and raging hormones are not making it any easier for you. 

You can control yourself. You can do that as long as there's no impulse from the other side.

This vacation might've not started like you planned, but it started wonderfully without your friends here. It's also a great chance of getting your friendship back where it was. While you're sure the history between you will always be there and it will never go away, you can try to go back and not get pushed to do something silly due to any sort of temptation. 

Because that's what Jeon Jungkook is.

Having him right here, next to you while you explore the Island is a great challenge itself. At first, you don't pay any attention to the mentioned temptation. You're fine. You talk, you joke and have a great time exploring the Island. You go out and eat in one of the restaurants, you have the best ice cream that is like the greatest present for your heated bodies. Taehyung and Jimin facetime with you during it, which ultimately makes you miss them more – especially when you show them around and see their pouty faces.

After that, you visit a few local shops – promising each other that you will come back and shop some souvenirs not just for you two but for your friends as well. The heat is too much to spend the rest of the day in a direct sun with no refreshments. And you didn't come here to just stay inside, so you both decide to go to the beach.

You do want to get the best of it since you're about to get your period in the halfway of this vacation. The timing sucks but you won't let it ruin anything.

Quickly going back to the house to change and pack things, you use the close proximity to the sea and settle on the beach there. You decide to walk a little further, closer to people and other tourists where different bars occur. There will be time to enjoy that privacy later. 

Although, being left with him alone is all the things you're scared of. 

Just focus on you, and your friendship.

“Is here okay?” Jungkook asks, stopping a few meters from the sea.

Looking around, it's a good spot. You're not completely surrounded by the tourists, more to the side where you can enjoy the shade and sun at the same time. There are faint sounds of music coming from the nearby bars, squeals of people's excitement and chatters around you. Beach waves are like a lullaby to your ears, confirming the reality of your presence here. 

There are kids as well, not too many but you spot a few in the distance as they beg their parents to go to the water already. 

“It's perfect.” Is all it takes for Jungkook to drop the beach blankets down. You help him to get it in the right place, making sure the wind doesn't mess it up. 

Air here is far better and you can't wait to get into the water to freshen up. 

“I'm gonna get us some drinks.” Jungkook announces once you settle in, pulling out a straw hat he bought while you were visiting different shops. It's the only thing he had to buy.

At first you weren't sure why, it's not exactly his style and you're sure he packed one of his caps. But then, he just puts it on you and shields the top of your head. You lean your head back to give him a look.

“You don't wanna get a heat stroke.” he shrugs, hands on his hips as he stares down at you.

See, it's very hard to keep it casual and think of Jungkook being an annoying friend. While you fully appreciate his caring, it's hard to focus in general. He has a stupid excuse of a button-up, so thin all his tattoos can be seen through the seen through material. It's not even the tattoos itself. 

He has it completely unbuttoned, showing off his pecs and abs as the thin material barely covers any of his skin. Jungkook has always been handsome, but you also never had to see your friend like… this. 

Iceland would've been a better option than Hawaii. 

So far though, you've been strong – even though it doesn't seem like it. While you're completely obvious to Jungkook's body and additional sight of his skin, you just don't allow your eyes to drop there. You keep them solely on Jungkook's face, hoping he doesn't see the inner turmoil you're going through.

“What are you? My dad?” you ask instead, poking the front of the straw hat with a lifted brow. 

Jungkook grins, “Don't want you to get sick on our first day.”

“You forgot to put sunscreen on me. And bring a swim wheel.” you comment grumpily. 

Something feels odd. It's not like you're truly annoyed by his caring. But looking at the familiarity of this conversation and overall situation, something sits on the tip of your tongue. It's not a word or anything that could be said. It's almost like a taste you can't quite describe. 

And when you see Jungkook who just laughs with his head leaned back, shrugging effortlessly at your comment, you realize that perhaps it's the fact that things really are like they were. At least right now. Jungkook treats you like he has before. He's caring, having that one particular look in his eyes you haven't seen in a while. 

Or perhaps you're just dramatic and you're seeing things. 

Being confused and frustrated at yourself more than ever, luckily Jungkook cuts you off from your never-ending thoughts before you can drive yourself crazy. 

“Ah, maybe I should've. We both know you're not too confident in water.”

You gasp, reaching for your sandal which you throw in his direction. He laughs, dodging it perfectly as despite your attack, he still reaches for it and puts it back to the spot, so it won't get lost. It's a detail but leaves you gulping.

“I'm pretty confident in kicking your ass.”

“Alright,” he laughs, not believing a word you're saying which makes you roll your eyes at him. “Whatever you say.”

He confidently backs away with a smirk, laughing when you flip him off and huff out in frustration once he turns around and walks to one of the bars. He slowly walks further and further away, yet you keep your eyes on him. 

You lay back, staring at the palm tree above you. The sunlight peeks through the leaves, creating patterns on your heated face and cheeks. 

When he comes back, you gulp down the fresh lemon and mint drink without properly tasting it. 

“...okay.” Jungkook says, watching you being halfway down the drink – it's alcohol free which doesn't make you look completely insane. “Wanna go for a swim?”

Putting down the drink, you open your mouth just as Jungkook decides to ditch the stupid excuse of a cover-up. He shrugs it off and tosses it onto the sand, brushing his fingers through his black hair. It has gotten long to the point where it sometimes gets into his eyes.

Standing up, you undo the small knot on your white cover-up that looks like a short dress. It slips down your arms and meets the blanket underneath your feet.

“Ready?” you ask, dropping down the silly straw hat Jungkook has gotten you. 

“Is this new?” Jungkook questions instead, pointing at your white bikini. It's a cute set. What makes it cute looking and pretty is the ruffled style, yet it's complimenting your body in the nicest way. 

“Yeah, I bought it for this trip specially.” 

“You did?” 

“Yeah, you don't like it?” you ask, looking down at yourself and adjusting your bra that's pushing up your breasts. Not in the overly too much type, enough to show them off though. 

In your defense, it didn't look like this on the model when you were ordering it. Luckily, you would say it fits perfectly. Jungkook's silence causes you to look up, almost finding the thought of him not liking it or thinking of it negatively scary. You mentally gag at yourself. Since when do you care what others think?

To be fair, sometimes you do – if those people are close to you and it also happens what it is about. But your choice of fashion matters only to you. You won't let anyone change the way you perceive yourself and your individual style. 

As much as you're independent in this entire matter, you would lie if you didn't say you don't like compliments. Also, there is something about Jungkook's compliments. You almost gag for the second time when just the idea of it makes your stomach tickle.

“Are you staring at my tits, Jeon?”

Caught red-handed, Jungkook's slightly scrunched eyes from the sun widened in a split second. “You don't usually refer to them as tits.” he comments instead.

You chuckle at the ridiculous response, “I usually don't have to refer to them at all. But you were staring.”

“Can you blame the man?” he shrugs, stealing a quick glance again as you give him the look he knows very well. The one where your eyebrow has been lifted for what seems like the hundredth time in the span of thirty minutes.

“Jeon, for this to work, you gotta behave yourself.”

Jungkook frowns at the nickname, “I prefer Kook better.”

“Jeon.” you correct just to annoy him. Deep down you cackle at the way his brows scrunch together in the softest way possible. 

“What do you want me to do? They're just right there! We were talking about your bikini, it's not my fault.”

“You don't have to stare at my breasts though.”

“Did it make you feel weird?”

“Well–”

“See? You don't not like it!” he exclaims, pointing at you accusingly.

“I barely said anything!”

“You don't have to, I know that look.”

“This is ridiculous,” you mutter. “Besides, you didn't answer. You don't like it?”

“Are you seriously asking me that?” he deadpans.

“Um–yeah?” you deadpan back. 

He sighs, “I'm not gonna talk about your bikini because you're gonna accuse me of staring.”

“I don't have to accuse you, you were staring!” you laugh.

You're not going to lie. It does compliment you.

Even though you're here to focus on the two of you, in a different way than you were a few weeks ago, you should hate how Jungkook's attention makes your ego grow. 

“You told me to behave, so I'm gonna keep my mouth shut.”

“Why?” you question, not doing a great way to show your excitement. 

“Oh, now you want me to talk?” he laughs, “Nah, you wouldn't be able to handle it.”

“Cocky as always.”

He shrugs, “I never hid it.”

You nibble on your bottom lip, “But no, be serious right now.”

“Oh, I have been serious this whole time.”

“Jungkook!” you whine, “Is it not too much?”

“If I told you yes, would you change?”

You stay silent for a moment before simply saying; “No.”

“Then no, it's perfect.”

“Jungkook!” 

He stays silent for a moment, throwing his head back as his eyes squint shut from the trails of sun hitting his face. “God, woman.”

“What?” you mumble innocently.

Since when do you care what anyone thinks? Jungkook questions mentally, trying to keep his thoughts straight before he gets the courage to look you in the eyes.

“You look beautiful.”

You stare, battling with hundreds of things happening inside you. The heat in your cheeks gets almost unbearable and you do what you seem to be best at. Running away and playing it cool. “Yah, don't say it like that!”

“Like what?” Jungkook asks, brows pinched in confusion.

“So seriously.”

“I am serious,” Jungkook informs you, making it worse for your cheeks and the turmoil that's happening in the pit of your stomach. Why did you have to open your mouth? “Now let's go into that fucking water.”

“Woah.”

“Yeah, woah.”

“What's bothering you?” you ask, trailing behind him trying to catch up to him when he suddenly turns around and nears the sea. 

“Nothing,” he says casually, dipping his ankles into the chilly water. You open your mouth but before you can say something that could potentially lead to a conversation you would eventually back out of, Jungkook splashes your heated body.

You gasp, finding him smirking. Before you can get him back for it, he runs to the water and dips his entire body in. He emerges out of it in seconds, the water reaching just somewhere around his hips. You watch droplets of water run down his entire body, hair completely soaked from it as he wipes his face. 

“Are you staring at my abs, Y/L/N?” Jungkook shouts, your eyes widening as embarrassment makes it onto your face. Can he be any louder?

You look around for a second, trying to see if someone is witnessing this embarrassing moment. There's no one that seems to care, besides a group of girls meters away from you as they seem to find a certain interest in Jungkook. You purse your lips, looking at Jungkook. 

“Y'know, if I should behave, so should you.”

“I don't feel like behaving,” you call out to him, watching him as he creates waves with his hands as he effortlessly runs his hands through the water. “They are just there, you know?”

You get him back for it, still watching him and witnessing his lips curling into a knowing smirk. “Oh, are they?”

“Mhm.”

“Get in here.”

“No.” you giggle, laughing when Jungkook grins and shakes his head at you. 

“I'm gonna get you.”

“Come here then.”

And fuck, he does. You laugh through it all, trying to back away as you promise him you will go deeper, though not fully out of respect to the sea you have. He doesn't listen. As soon as his arms wrap around your body, molding into his almost too naturally and perfectly. But you're caught up in the moment and in your giggles, hearing Jungkook's laugh as you squeal when the coldish water wets you. 

You cling to Jungkook's side, “There are no sharks, right?”

Jungkook snickers, “Of course there are. Somewhere in the sea at least.”

You nudge him, but Jungkook holds you close since he can reach better than you. He's also a way better swimmer than you. “Don't say that.”

“Look at those kids,” he says and points to the side. There are kids on their floaties, of course with their parents around. “They're not scared of sharks.”

“They could be dessert for all I care, I'm not gonna be one.” you joke, hearing Jungkook laugh as he doesn't allow you to inch closer to the shore. 

“You could be mine, but you wanted a break.” 

You gasp, tickling his side as he barely falters and just gives you the teasing grin. “Don't say stuff like that. I told you.”

“Alright, I won't.” he promises, imitating his lips being locked as he throws the imaginary key far to the sea. “I was joking.”

“Were you?” you ask, pretending to be teasing and amused but the truth is, there's a part of you trying to know the truth. 

“I guess you'll never know. I told you I'm shut.” he says with a grin like the annoying brat he can be. 

And for the sake of yourself, you decide to leave it be. You splash his face instead, playing it off like you seem to do often. For your own sake. 

Jungkook has always been the adventurous type. You've heard all kinds of stories from Taehyung and Jimin, some of them back from Busan or from the times you haven't been present in their lives back then. Jungkook would be up for anything that could get him the thrill and although, there weren't that many opportunities considering everyone's busy lives – you could see it from his mere decision of being up to all sorts of fun that involves adrenaline. 

So you shouldn't be surprised he practically stuttered and almost jumped from excitement once he spotted a place where jet skis can be rented. You've read his mind even before he opened his mouth and dragged you there.

After swimming and messing around in the sea for a while, you went for a walk and explored the beach, and tasted a few good snacks. You should've known it's not ending with that. 

And that's where you ended up. Sitting behind Jungkook, both of you wearing safety vests and you clutching to his back, arms around his waist. You live in the moment, focusing on each activity the two of you do.

The sun is now setting down, air is still warm but with the sun slowly disappearing, it's not boiling hot. You're exhausted and your body screams for a good cold shower and bed. On your way back to the beach house, you walk in silence and enjoy the sound of waves around you. 

You're the first one to occupy the bathroom, taking the chance to not be in the presence of Jungkook's naked abs and chest. As long as you keep your mind and body busy, there's a low chance of you overthinking and letting your mind wander somewhere where it simply should not. 

Not wanting to dwell any further of how this might have been a mistake, you take it as a test to prove your friendship. Jungkook is a temptation that has grown over the few months you get to experience something you haven't before. 

As the water dribbles down your naked body, wetting every inch of your skin, you think it's too soon to want everything to be different or back like it was. Because it never will be. And for that, you're scared of what's about to come. There are things you can control and then there are things that simply will evolve into something. The feeling of the unknown and fear of ruining your friendship with Jungkook genuinely scares you.

But again. You think of it more positively, you have to or else you're going to lose your mind. Jungkook's attractiveness and the fact you're attracted to him won't go anywhere. At least not in the near future and it's something you need to come to terms with. Like you said, it's too soon to think of it any differently. 

While you're here to focus on your friendship, perhaps you should focus on yourself more as well. 

As you wash yourself in a nice scent of orange and vanilla, you apply a body lotion you've brought to make your skin soft. While you do that and start doing unnecessary steps as your night routine, one you definitely don't do when you've spent the day not wearing make-up specifically, you tell yourself you just pamper yourself instead of trying to look good for someone else. 

Your skin is glowing and hair almost dried by the time you join Jungkook in the living room, wearing one of your night gowns. 

He's on his phone, barely glancing at you before he takes a double-take and eyes you up and down. 

“What?”

You're the first one that breaks the short-lived silence. Any nightgown is a small portion of what could be considered as your sleepwear. Jungkook out of everyone knows that, because he's seen you in everything you usually sleep in. Back in the day, you would never get the courage to let him see you sleep in anything other than oversized shirts and shorts. Even thinking of wearing tank tops made you feel weird, especially if he god forbid could see your nipples peeking through. 

This white nightgown is beautiful, but by no means designed to make men salivate or suggest anything other than having something nice to wear. Besides, the material is thin and light which is perfect for this warm weather. Plus, you and Jungkook have agreed or not having the AC turned on unless it's completely necessary. Not only is it not healthy but you're also very sensitive to coldness. Getting sick on this vacation is just not on your list, therefore you're trying to eliminate that chance as much as possible.

He narrows his eyes at you, trying to figure you out and you realize it right away before he can even open his mouth and offer you any sort of response.

“Oh, don't get this wrong. I packed my best stuff on this vacation and I didn't know we were sharing a bedroom.”

“I haven't said anything.” he says, watching you as if you were a predator as you get closer.

“You didn't have to, it's all over your face.”

As much as you enjoy his eyes on you, which always compliments you – it's one of those moments when you hide behind confidence and ignore the warmth that spreads inside the pit of your stomach. There's no point in thinking how many words from him or simple eye-contact would it take for him to take matters into his own hands. Or more like you. 

But you can't think about that. You can't wonder about it.

“I would suggest wearing something different but I won't.”

He smiles and it's so brief you barely catch it. “And why is that?”

“Because it's not my problem, of course.” you tease. “I'm wearing this for myself.”

“I never initiated anything different,” he tells you, tilting his head to the side while he studies your face. He doesn't even lock his phone as he tosses it beside him. “You should sleep in whatever you're comfortable in.”

“I will.”

“Good.”

You both stare at each other, trying not to crack a good laugh. It's a weird moment. Something between joking, amusement and tension that boils. If this happened a few weeks ago, he would probably have you underneath him as you're speaking. And the image is so explicit that it leaves a warm coat all over your body and you have to take a step back.

“But seriously now, you don't feel weird because of this?”

“If I said I am, would you change?”

“Of course not.”

He cracks a grin, “Then why asking?”

“I'm curious. I don't want to make you feel weird and this wasn't my intention. Besides, this doesn't expose anything major–and you've seen everything–”

“I have and for someone who doesn't care and wears this for herself, you're awfully explanatory.” 

Your eyes narrow into thin slits as you glare at him, sending him a warning look that's easily met with a boyish grin from him. 

“Now that you're finally out and finished making yourself look good for yourself, I'm gonna take a shower.”

Jungkook's laugh booms through the room and bounces off the walls when he manages to escape from your leg aiming at his buttcheek. To be fair, you were there for longer than you initially planned.

“Are you making fun of me, Jeon?” you call out to him, trying to sound pissed as a comfort glazes your soul. 

“When have I ever?” He calls out back, already in the bathroom and hidden from any threats your legs might make. 

It's been ages since you've had such a good sleep.

Exhaustion and the amount of activities you've done yesterday ultimately had a good share of it. The air here is different. The faint sounds of waves have been an additional part of your sleep. No cars passing by or city lights peeking through your blinds, or even occasional footsteps of your neighbors above your head.

You understand why people travel so far to relax. Sunlight peeks through the wide open window you've left and lets the chilly air get through the night. It felt so lovely that you fell asleep as soon as you closed your eyes.

Traces of sun touch your skin and make it warm, warmer than you've appreciated though and that alone tells you you're about to have another hot day ahead of you. Jungkook has briefly informed you of today's plans, always keeping in mind what you want to do but since you're more of a tagging alone vacation type, you just agree with whatever. 

You're here to relax and if you see something you would like to see or try, you'll feel open to do so. It's something you've assured him right before your body slumped into the comfiest bed you've ever laid in. Not even Jungkook's massive bed can compete with it. 

Or maybe it was the exhaustion all along.

Speaking of Jungkook, you tilt your head sideways to check on him. Not before you rub your eyes off the sleepiness. A sight of Jungkook's exposed back stares at you right back. Similar to the position you've just woken up from, he's sleeping on his stomach while arms underneath the white pillow as he hugs it to his face. You can't see his face and for a moment, you think it's better that way.

Whoever would see you right now, they would get a totally bad perception of the two of you. You look nothing like best friends who occasionally share bed.

Overthinking is not a huge part of your life. At least you think so. But ever since months have passed by and you've decided to take a break from the temptation laying right beside you, you feel like you've done nothing but that. Overthinking every second. 

You believe everything happens for a reason. And while you told yourself you're not going to overthink it and focus on your friendship instead, you do wonder if there's a true reason for why you and him ended up spending this vacation alone. 

Sure, Taehyung got injured and couldn't travel while Jimin couldn't go because of last changes at his work. It shouldn't mean more but just a mere coincidence that consists of bad luck and life. 

Like you've told yourself many times before, you will take this opportunity to focus on your decision of why you decided to take a break. Besides, you can't think about it too much and you do have to put lust aside, focusing on something that is far more sacred and important to you. 

You've no idea how long you lay there with your eyes open, watching the beautiful view out of your bed. You haven't checked your phone, something you would've done by now if you were at home. But not at the moment. You want to fully enjoy this and stay in the present – because right now it feels like you don't need anything else. 

You haven't realized how much you needed to get away. Perhaps the reason for this vacation is not to tell you something secretive, but it's for you to recharge and come back stronger than ever.

And maybe there's no reason for it. Maybe you should just freaking enjoy it and not overthink every second. 

You almost groan out loud, ready to spring out of the bed to stop yourself from thinking and being alone with your mind. The soft groan coming from the person next to you stops you and for some dumb reason, you catch yourself closing your eyes as if to pretend you were sleeping. 

Jungkook tosses around and stretches his limbs, groaning raspily under his breath as he turns to his back. He's back to sleeping, so do you think before you slowly open your eyes and catch the perfect sight of him doing the same a second after. He blinks, frowning slightly as if he realizes where he is.

Witnessing that is cute. Wait. What.

You widen your eyes and quickly shake that thought away. Calling him cute, even if it's in your mind seems illegal. Even though you've done that many times before. Years ago to be exact. 

“Mornin',” he rasps out, hand reaching to his face as long fingers rub the sleep and tiredness off those puffy eyes. 

Muttering the same greeting, you watch him close them for a moment as a soft groan makes it past his lips. “How long have you been awake?” he asks sleepily.

Long enough to watch you sleeping, you admit in your mind but it sounds ridiculous even there. You shouldn't have these thoughts anyway, no matter how honest you are.

“Just a few minutes,” you reply instead, rolling onto your back as you stare at the ceiling. 

A momentary silence has never been an issue with Jungkook. In fact, you don't find it uncomfortable but for some reason, having him so close feels weirdly familiar and odd. It's different now but it is not at the same time. You're both in a completely different state. While you realize it's in your head and sleepy Jungkook has no idea, you decide to cut off the silence and fill it with a conversation.

“It's already ten.” Your eyes drift to the digital clock that sits on the nightstand on your side. 

“Fuuck,” Jungkook sighs, rubbing his face again. “Already?”

You nod, glancing at him to find his arm tucked under his head, his face turned to you as he offers you a sleepy smile. Gulping down, you sit up and pat down your hair to make it less messy. 

“What are we doing first today?” 

Not offering him any more attention with your eyes, your feet slip into your slides easily as he remains silent for a moment. Your back burns, the traces of his eyes are without a doubt the reason for it.

“We should eat something first, then I wanna rent a car so it's easier to travel on the island. And then bungee jumping.” 

“Fuck, you still wanna do that?” you whine a little, glancing over your shoulder to find him grinning at your evident disappointment.

“You only live once.”

“That's a stupid reason to do stuff like that,” you point out.

You're all up for Jungkook having fun and trying new things he hasn't. However, sometimes your type of fun and interest differs from Jungkook's and once again, you're reminded of his adventurous self. There's no way in hell you'll go through that. He knows that.

“But if something happens to you, I want your car.”

Jungkook snorts out loud, your own lips curling into an amused grin as your feet pat into the bathroom. 

“Or no, your apartment will do.” you raise your voice as you call out to him, making sure he hears you. 

He does, along with the amusement and teasing in your soft voice. 

“How generous you are,” he calls back. “You wouldn't survive without me.”

You chuckle under your breath, washing your face in cold water. You're done within a minute, patting down the remains of it.

“Oh, here we go. Cocky much in the morning?” 

“You should know that by now.” 

You jump at how fast and close the answer comes. Jungkook stands between the door frame, leaning against the left side of it. Crossing his arms over his chest, you try to not stare too much at the display of his skin and muscles.

Reaching for your toothbrush instead, you focus on your task instead and stare at your reflection in the mirror. Your cheeks feel warm all of a sudden and you're sure it has nothing to do with Hawaii's warm weather. 

Jungkook watches you in silence. You're not sure if he still has a cocky grin attached to his lips or if he's simply just watching, but you know he is. You can feel it. And then you hear him stepping closer until he reaches for his own toothbrush. The familiar scent of him wraps around you once again as you give him a look with an arched brow. 

Is this his way of keeping his distance? 

Well, to be fair he never said he will keep his distance. Your idea of how this is going to work is simply to focus on your relationship, rather than the physical side of it and what was left of it. 

Although, you have no idea how him standing shirtless next to you is going to help that. You welcome the challenge though. 

You two ignore a lot of facts that surround you. So you continue to brush your teeth next to each other like it's the most normal thing ever. And maybe it is.

But back then none of you were shirtless or exposed enough that there is only so little left to each other's imagination. Is imagination even a thing here? 

You've seen every inch of each other's bodies. You don't have to imagine anything because you've seen it all. You've felt it all.

“Do you mind?”

You straighten up once you spit the remains of mouthwash. Jungkook turns on the shower, checking the temperature as he's visibly ready to take his morning shower. 

“Unless you wanna join me.”

It's the cunning smirk that slowly sneaks onto his face that makes you scrunch up the small face towel that's been used and throw it in his direction. It bounces off his puffed out chest and you hate how he laughs, ignoring your attempt to silently tell him to fuck off.

“Boundaries, Jeon.” You remind him.

“You never minded them before.” He continues to tease you and you snarl at him, throwing him a glare. 

“Now I do.”

“Alright, alright. Sorry.” He bows and you groan, flipping him off before you close the bathroom door with a loud thud.

His humorous laugh behind the door accompanies you long enough until you're far away to breathe it out. You'll have to do that a lot when it comes to Jungkook.

Your soft smile is caught in the reflection of a sparkling clean microwave and you quickly look away, ignoring the previously stated facts. 

“Kook, are you really sure?” 

After you had breakfast, walked around a bit and rented a car like Jungkook said, you stand in a queue that's slowly but surely shortening. 

He would've actually laughed if he didn't glance at you and see your widened eyes, as you stare at staff putting a harness on people and preparing them for the jump. Whenever someone jumps with a loud scream, some people as a pair, he sees your breath hitching and stopping for a moment.

Of course he is sure. He's mentioned this a couple of times throughout the years but he never really had the opportunity to do this. So you're aware of not only his interest but excitement as well. 

Unfortunately for him, this is a hard no for you and even though you would do anything for Jungkook – go special lengths such as pretending to be his girlfriend – this is where you draw the line. It's comical. 

“You sure you don't wanna jump with me?” He asks instead, laughing when he sees your dumbfounded look. Is he serious?

He had to sign a freaking liability waiver that he's doing this at his own risk. While you're aware this is a standard contract for all these kinds of sports, you've almost thrown up when the woman handed it to him and he signed it. 

“Worth a shot.” he mumbles.

It's laughable as you stand beside him, shifting uncomfortably from side to side as if you were the one doing this. Meanwhile Jungkook is close to jumping from excitement as he watches other participants before him in a complete awe and excitement. 

“Have you not watched a horror movie when the most ridiculous stuff happens once people do this kind of stuff?”

He gives you a side glance, “Are you talking about Final Destination?” he stops for a second, “I don't remember there was a bungee jumping scene.”

“It's not about bungee jumping itself.” you point out, growing frustrated that he's practically just making fun of it.

“You should stop watching horror movies.”

Your response comes right away. “I would have, if you guys didn't force me every time.”

He snickers, “Y'know, for someone who's always very considerate and empathic, you sure know when to talk about the right stuff.”

“Talking about all the risks this includes is right,” you inform him. “I'm worried.”

“No one wants to hear there's a risk of a plane falling when you're about to board the plane.”

Oh shit, he's right. You know he is, yet you couldn't help yourself and hoped that he's going to change his mind at the last minute. Obviously, for your own selfish reasons.

“Flying a plane is different though.” You still stubbornly mumble, hearing another scream from one of the participants which makes you flinch. 

“The point is not,” he points out but as you open your mouth to argue, he grabs you by your shoulders and has you standing in front of him. “Stop worrying, I would do this with or without you.”

“Damn, how sweet of you.” you mutter, causing him to laugh. “Couldn't we ride horses or something instead?”

“We could still do that. After I jump.”

“Oh god, don't say it like that!” you whine. He laughs, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as he hugs you to his side. 

“Taehyung would jump with me.”

“Taehyung would probably be drunk out of his ass if he happened to jump.”

You look at each other, laughing before the woman's staff calls out for Jungkook. She asks if you're jumping together and you wildly shake your head at her, stepping aside as you let her put a harness on Jungkook. 

He's grinning, watching her excitedly as she says all kinds of information about safety to him. You don't listen to that. For a moment you just focus on the happiness and excitement on him that has been evident ever since you stepped out of the car.

Their conversation is a little lost on you, therefore your brows are furrowed in utter confusion when Jungkook sits down and gets his legs secured. 

“Wait–what are you doing?” you ask. 

All people before him either sat when they were jumping or they looked as if they were lying, in a flying position. Jungkook puts a helmet on, shooting you a thumbs up as he ignores your ready to flip out. 

He's being hoisted up, upside down as he grins like a kid at you. 

“What the hell, are you crazy, Jungkook?” you yell, hands gripping the railing for dear life.

You thought this center did just those positions and Jungkook flying upside down just never crossed your mind, even though you know people jump like that too. 

“See you soon.”

“Jungkook!”

But before he can focus on your angry expression, he flies you a kiss and is let go. You yelp, wincing as you his body flies into the distance in a rapid motion. You can't help but watch, your eyes lingering on what seems like a dot down there the entire time. 

“My boyfriend jumped as well, a couple of times actually.” Someone says beside you and you don't look, you can't as your eyes stay on Jungkook. But from the voice, her accent tells you she's local. “If it makes you feel better, no accidents happened here. A few people threw up but that's it.”

You offer her a nervous chuckle, not really thinking Jungkook will be throwing up. In the worst case scenario, he would want to jump again. 

“See?” She stands closer, taking a closer look as they start pulling him up and you sigh in relief. “Your boyfriend is safe. Is he the throwing up type?”

You finally glance at her, seeing her tan face and curly hair surrounding it. 

“He's not my boyfriend,” you tell her, “He's my best friend. Psycho best friend it seems.”

She laughs but her eyes linger on you, looking as if she doesn't believe you. You subtly roll your eyes. You know exactly what she's thinking. You've seen that reaction many times before and by now, it no longer phases you. 

Everything else becomes a white noise and the girl beside you is long forgotten as the cord springs back to its original space and with that, they pull Jungkook slowly up. They help him balance. Letting go of the railing, you wait for him to move aside so he's not that close to the edge as it's another person's turn. 

But none of that matters and when Jungkook finds you at your original spot, he smirks. “Missed me?”

“You idiot!” you curse, punching his chest before you hug him. He laughs, chest vibrating as he hugs you back.

“I would jump again but I wouldn't wanna give you a heart attack.”

You smack him again, giving the girl that still stands there a knowing look. Jungkook's eyes move toward her for a moment, wondering who she is but his attention is back at you as you breathe out loudly. 

“You're crazy, you know that?”

He shrugs, effortlessly running his fingers through his hair. “I'm crazy about a lot of things.”

Rolling your eyes, you nudge your head toward the exit before he changes his mind and you'll be charged for a murder. “Let's go.”

He listens, but not before he tickles your side for a good measure, earning another smack. 

He's a crazy idiot for making you worry like that.

“Awww, you were so worried about your Kookie?”

Baring your teeth at Taehyung's huge grin that displays on Jungkook's phone screen, he's a lucky person that you're currently sitting at one of the restaurants near the beach. There are too many people for you to tell him to fuck off. 

You knew the moment Jungkook decided to accept the video call, they would have a field day. Honestly, they make the situation way more dramatic than it was. Luckily for them, you know your friends and their annoying teasing that is purely raged by your annoyed reactions. It's what makes their eyes lit up until you put a stop to their charades. 

That's what you get for being the only woman in your inner and close circle. 

You glare at Jungkook, non-verbally asking him do you see what you did?

As always, Taehyung asked about your day and since he can't be a part of it, he likes to hear details. He doesn't mind it, as he assured you many times. You still feel bad that he can't be here with you. Jimin too.

And luckily for Jungkook, he briefly mentioned you almost shit your pants when you saw him actually doing it. He wasn't really making fun of you, until Taehyung took the matters into his hands and turned it into a teasing battle that you're a victim of. 

You lean toward the table where Jungkook holds his phone, facing you as he watches your interaction with Taehyung with amusement sparkling in his eyes. “Fuck both of you,” you whisper, making sure Taehyung hears it. 

He does.

It makes his grin even bigger. 

“You should've seen him. He jumped upside down.”

“Isn't that what people do when they bungee jump?” Taehyung asks, met with another huff coming out of you.

“Yes, but dozens of people before him didn't jump upside down.” you inform him with a sass, seeing him put his hands up in surrender.

“Honestly, you're like an old married couple. You scold him and he fucking enjoys it.”

Rolling your eyes, you adjust the napkin that's sitting on your lap. It's getting dark now. Until the adventurous day, you wanted to have a calm dinner by the beach. Tomorrow's plan is to enjoy at least a half of the day there, relaxing. No adrenaline sports.

“Are you even scared of anything?” you ask Jungkook, lifting up both your brows.

“I'm scared of many things.”

“Yeah and you're one of them.” Taehyung butts in. Jungkook rolls his eyes and so do you.

“You guys make it seem as if I torture you on daily basis.”

“Well, you can be scary sometimes.”

“You know what, Tae?” you press your lips together in a fake smile.

“Wha–”

You don't give him a chance to respond, ending the call. Jungkook snickers, pulling his phone to him as he checks the screen. You sit back with a satisfied smile.

“You know Tae… He would tease shit out of everyone and everything.”

“Oh, you're not so innocent either.” you point out with a chuckle.

He frowns, momentarily pausing as he reads out a message. “He just texted me–fucking rude.”

“Send him a kissing emoji, he's gonna know it's me.”

Jungkook shakes his head with a chuckle, typing something there. He locks his phone, putting it away as it has become a strict and unsaid rule to not have phones when you're out. To be honest, it happened naturally and you're guessing, both of you want to enjoy this time without the internet. Unless it's to make calls of course.

“Besides, you were shaking when I danced on the table. You were practically shitting your pants back then–do you see me teasing you for it?”

He frowns, “When?”

“The NYE party? Jin's cabin?”

Quiet follows for a moment as the mention of one of the very significant nights comes to the surface. Not even the waves in the background can wash out the slight odd vibe in the air. So much happened there.

“You remember that?”

“Faintly, but Taehyung filled me in.” you shrug.

“That was different,” he simply says.

“Different how? I was having fun and you begged me to come down.”

“Yes, because you were wasted out of your ass. I had all safety measures taken care of, while you were dancing, wasted wearing heels.”

You purse your lips.

“So don't compare those two.”

He doesn't sound angry, he's strictly informative and you wonder what he's so defensive about. Perhaps the memories from that night aren't exactly pleasant. You might've looked like you were having the time of your life, but you were going through hell back then. 

“Damn, alright. Point taken.” you mutter, seeing him roll his eyes but his lips crack a grin.

“Just don't dance on the table this time.”

“Why would I do that?” you laugh.

“To get back at me.”

It's silly. You wouldn't do that and he knows that. There it is. It's the innocent teasing you've missed. Innocent. That's what you need. 

You still reach toward the wine glass as you gulp it down. A tight smile is the last thing you offer Jungkook before you dig into your meal.

It's the next and second day of you officially being here. 

Over the short period of your stay, it's crazy to realize how used to you've become to the new world around you. You and Jungkook have fallen into the routine of waking up without any alarm, not bothering yourselves to set one so you could do as many things as you can during your stay. 

Both of you relax and let things happen naturally, with a bit of planning because you still want to have fun and experience fun things. It's not hectic at all. 

Jungkook drags you to learn how to surfboard and while he's a natural talent (another of course), you're having just as much fun even though you're nowhere near Jungkook's level. You taste the most delicious food until you can't eat anymore, worrying you're going to have a stomach ache if you won't stop at the right time.

Now you're laying on the beach blanket with eyes closed, listening to the waves that are always there. 

Jungkook has gone to grab you some alcohol free drinks, cold drinks, after you both agreed on having them. It's been a while since he left, so you crack your eyes open and squint at the bright sun even though you've been lying in the shade. 

You look around. A part of people playing beach volleyball, tanning or swimming in the water, you don't spot him right away. Until you would recognize his figure everywhere and from miles away. He's bringing his drink with him, staring at the sand under his bare feet and you can't help but watch him the entire time. 

His hair is still a bit wet from swimming that he decided on earlier. Jungkook knows how to relax and you've seen him relaxing more than ever here. However, he still needs to get active somehow so every few minutes, he decides to do something. It's quite laughable and adorable, considering he would be lifting weights if he was back at home. 

He's passing by the volleyball court that someone provisionally made and entertained a bunch of tourists that were looking for a bit of sport and fun. You're supposed to go jet skiing with Jungkook tomorrow, so you will save that later and just bask in the sun for now. 

Your thoughts fade away just as they naturally came when you spot a group of girls, calling out to Jungkook which stops in his tracks and looks at them with curious eyes. His mouth stretches into a smile as he nods, looking around with drinks in his hand until one of the girls points toward the little table next to their deck chairs. He sets it there carefully before he pats his hands over his swim trunks. Another girl eagerly hands him something which you soon realize is a phone.

They pose for him as Jungkook snatches a few pictures of them. Sitting in the distance for a good minute, he keeps taking pictures of them as they pose in typical poses with the beach and sea behind them. 

It's pointless to mention they're all wearing bikinis. You're not one to judge and you would never criticize their bodies but shit, they all look good and definitely stand out with their different body types. They're hot and you don't have to be a man to conclude that. 

They chat for a while and you hate yourself for growing slightly annoyed at Jungkook's absence and clear interest in whatever conversation they have. Minutes seem like hours and you look away, watching your surroundings. God, you're pathetic. You act as if your eyes don't move in their direction every now and then. 

Until you're staring at the sea in front of you and notice Jungkook's nearing. He sets your drinks down. “Here you go, but be careful when drinking. It's cold.”

Cold? All the ice probably melted until you stopped chatting with the girls.

Pressing your lips together, you nod understandingly and take a sip so you bite your tongue and don't say something that could spiral into any sort of confrontation. What's the deal? You're not even mad at him. You're mad at him for being bothered. 

It's okay. They just wanted a group photo and Jungkook was passing by. No big deal. 

You sigh, giving him a smile as you look at the nice pink colors your strawberry drink's having.

“I met some girls on my way here. They're about to play volleyball. They ask me to join, you wanna join too?”

You freeze for a second, only your eyes sending him a glance. Of fucking course.

Can you blame them though? Jungkook's hot and has been catching women's gazes every time he comes out. They're shooting their shots and who are you to stand in their way? You've learned from your past mistakes when it came to Ester or another girl in Jungkook's life. Plus, you're on a vacation and they're strangers.

“Nah, you go. I'm gonna sit here and fangirl.”

He lifts his brow, “You sure?”

“Yeah.”

He eyes you suspiciously. “I'll stay if you want me to.”

You give him a dumbfounded look. “I'm not your mother, Kook. Go have fun.” you chuckle.

“Alright.” he nods, standing up. “I'll be right there if you need anything.”

“I'm all good,” you assure him. “Go kick their asses.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “They're girls, Y/N.”

He heads back to them, unaware when you mutter under your breath; “So?”

At first, you thought there's no reason for you to dig deeper in things that don't matter and would show overtime. You've stuck to your own little world, relaxing and checking your phone every now and then. You've also watched the volleyball game. 

Interesting to watch, you may say. 

Jungkook's in his element and you're not exactly talking about the female audience around him. Some guys joined them too and you soon realize they know the girls, or at least are familiar with them. Jungkook's team is winning. No doubt there and you find yourself smiling whenever he shoots, and the ball hits the sand on the opposite side of the other team. You silently cheer for him.

For a second you think of recording him and sending it to Jimin and Taehyung. But knowing Taehyung, he would thirst over the women playing the game rather than the real meaning of the video. Perhaps you're a bit selfish because you definitely don't need to hear about how hot those women are. Because that's what they are. 

They're women.

But you should've expected this to happen. It's what you maybe wanted to happen. It's a great opportunity to fully move on. There will be many occasions and situations like this. You shouldn't be mad.

So why the fuck your lips turn downwards like you've been kicked to the stomach?

Jungkook comes back after running with everyone to the water to freshen up. He yells something to them when walking out of the sea, grinning from ear to ear. You feel like an idiot. How can you be so bothered when he seems happy?

“Hey, they want to jet ski for a bit. You wanna join?”

Jet skiing is fun, you would go but you stop yourself from nodding because of your own partially selfish reasons. “No, you go.”

“I know we're supposed to go tomorrow and we will–”

“Kook, it's no big deal,” you laugh, “We can go tomorrow.”

“You sure you don't wanna go? They're all nice.”

You're sure they are.

“Maybe I will join you later or something.”

“They wanna play volleyball again, so you can join, then.”

“Yeah, sure.” you smile, giving him a thumbs up as he gulps more of the drink until it's finished. 

You wave at him as he joins them again, going to rent the jets. You sigh, groaning silently at yourself. A part of you wanted to join them just to stick with Jungkook. It's okay for him to have fun with someone else.

Your throat feels tight when you see the woman sticking to his side. Her caramel skin glistens under the sun rays and she looks straight out of any male fantasy. You've seen so many different models coming from your model agency, but this one takes the cake and you're not sure if she's a model. 

Her curves are thicker than the models you usually see. She's wearing a revealing bikini, her breasts almost spilling out of the bra but it's not because of that. It's because she's gorgeous. She's different from Kiko. She's different from you.

You would guess she might not be Jungkook's type. But then he looks down at her, smiling widely as he fastens her vest and something kicks inside you. 

“Hey–” 

Your head moves quickly toward the male with full on abs, nearing you carefully as he chuckles when you give him a glare.

“The guy–Jungkook?” he stops for a moment, “He told us you're his friend.”

Friend. That stings for a split second.

“I am, and?”

He chuckles, not put off by your raised brow and dangerous eyes. The man's skin is tanned and his dark wet hair is pushed back, showing you his sharp jawline. 

“And I wanted to check on you and ask if you really don't wanna join.”

Oh god, he must think you're some kind of introvert that avoids all social interactions. Little does he know you did it for your and Jungkook's sake. 

You glance back at them, Jungkook sitting on a jet ski as the girl sits behind him, hugging him from behind. Your throat goes dry and you swallow down the lump that suddenly appears there.

“Officially, you don't have to if you do–”

You roll your eyes at the familiar sentence and you grow slightly annoyed at that. You brush any sand that might appear on your moisturized skin. 

“Y'know what? I was starting to get bored.”

His smile grows and he looks you up and down. Not in the disgusting and perverted way, but in an almost challenging way as he smirks. 

“What about my things though?” you look down at your phone. 

“We can leave it in the bar there. They always look after our things when we do stuff like this.”

“Always?”

“We're here for the third time.”

“We.”

“Some of our friends. But we always meet someone new too, so they join us.” 

Just like Jungkook right now. 

“Oh, so you're the friendly type?”

He chuckles, “Not always. Just for specific people.”

And then there's the look in his eyes. Challenging and telling you more than his lips are. Oh god. He's flirting with you. 

You grab your and Jungkook's phones, not wanting them to get stolen. When you straighten and balance yourself, he holds out his hand for you to take. You slap his hand, brushing past him. “Let's go.”

You hear his amused chuckle behind you as he guides you toward the bar. After your stuff is taken care of and the staff is obviously familiar with him, you join the others. 

“Guys, someone's gonna join us after all.” He calls out and you realize you don't know his name.

Jungkook is in the middle of conversation, grinning as he looks up curiously. His smile falls when he spots you and you almost lift your brow at him. 

“Cool!”

“Great!”

“I'm Nat, what's your name?”

All kinds of questions and reactions are thrown at you. Welcoming and warm which you're glad for.

You introduce yourself, feeling a hand on the back of your back, not going any lower out of respect as the man who brought you here, guides you to one of the jets. 

“Mind sharing this one with me, Y/N?” he asks, handing you the vest. 

“No,” you say lightly and feigning innocence. “Do you?”

“Of course not.”

“You could at least tell me your name. Y'know, in case something happens to me.”

“What's fun in that?”

“So you're also the mysterious type?” Cocking your brow at him in challenge, he smirks. 

“Gabriel.”

He excuses himself for a minute, to grab his own vest as you put the one he handed you on. 

“I thought you didn't wanna go.” Jungkook suddenly says, standing right in front of you. He lightly nudges your hands as he helps you to fasten up your vest. 

You stare at him, “Changed my mind.”

“You could've told me. Wanna ride with me?”

“You already have someone to ride with.” you tell him, chuckling as you're trying your best to appear light and carefree.

“I see you do too. Doesn't mean we can change it up.”

You shrug, “He offered.”

He frowns, his eyes dropping all over your face as they stop on your lips for a quick moment. “So, you cool with that?”

“Yeah,” you say, swallowing. “It's okay to meet new people.”

His eyes snap to yours. He watches you, causing you to almost squirm in his never flattering eye contact. “What do you mean?”

Fuck, you should've stay silent. 

“Well, we talked about this earlier. We're not–it's probably for the best.”

You watch his tongue poke the inside of his cheek, a knowing look crossing over his features as he momentarily looks away before he chuckles. He rubs his nose as he backs away. 

“Okay.”

Him going back to the woman, watching her arms around his waist when they haven't even set off yet, is not the most disturbing feeling. As Gabriel joins you and you sit in the same position like Jungkook and the woman, you can't help but realize that none of this seems okay.

a/n: Oh god. It's already out! It's been a while since I wrote an author's note & to be honest, there's so much that I wanna say. At first, I wasn't really sure what – minus of course to thank you for your understanding and patience which unfortunately doesn't involve everyone. I'm glad that this chapter is finally out! To think it was supposed to be out in summer (and it's already close to winter 🥴) and even earlier than that, is insane!! 

I don't wanna go into too much detail and make this a/n too long, most of you probably have been hanging around for a while to know everything that has happened since the last update. Life has been busy but I don't think about it negatively, even tho it obviously affects my writing schedule. I needed the hectic lifestyle. Sometimes I felt too exhausted, but I would rather take something positive from it than think of it negatively, especially since I wasn't in a good space before. 

I wanna apologize for taking so long. I know y'all have been waiting. For me, it didn't even feel that long which shows just how quickly everything has been happening in my life. There are so many things that affected it and I could literally make a list (lol) but I'm sure most of you know a good amount of it, since I've been as honest as I could've been. I know I couldn't control 99% of how busy I got. There were times when I wanted to write badly but I barely could even think of it. There were also times when I could've found inspiration and time, but then one look at my Wattpad profile or my inbox made me just lock my phone and do other things. 

I don't want to make this a/n to give off a negative vibe, because there is so much to be happy about, but I just wish some people could be more understanding. Some of them have been extremely toxic, not making it any easier for me. I'm slightly sad to admit that if it wasn't for my passion and love for this story, I probably would just pack it off because the hate and messages I got are insane. I know me saying this won't change anything – I've tried multiple times. But please for love of God, stop pressuring writers and gaslight them, or many other unnecessary and disgusting things.

But putting this aside, I wanna thank everyone who's shown me love and support – made all of this worth it. I hope you've enjoyed this chapter, there is more to come and I've already started working on the next one. Please, don't ask when and how much. I don't know. I'll do my best. My goal is to post at least once a month, but this doesn't mean it will happen. I've learned not to plan much because I don't wanna disappoint anyone. So I'll just work on my stories privately and once I have something to share, I'll inform you 😊

So, yeah, that's it guys! I'm glad to be back with another chapter and hopefully, there won't be such a long wait anymore! I really wish this won't happen again for multiple reasons. Thank you for cheering me on and letting me know there are such great readers like you. I'll be forever thankful. During this story and after it finishes as well!

If you've enjoyed this chapter, please consider buying me a coffee☕️: https://ko-fi.com/personasintro ♡ Teaser for 59 along with a special unfinished scene (that didn't make it in 58) will be posted there!

goal: 2k notes 🌙

© 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨 (𝐧𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝) | 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭: @kithtaehyung

[tonycries]

Go For It, Gojo! [Part 2] - G.S.

Synopsis. Just two weeks ago you could barely stand him - so, really, why is your heart beating so loud? Surely, it’s just the way he’s got you pushed against the wall, face stuffed in your cunt - right?

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, academic rivals to lovers, student president! reader, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, slight angst + comfort, vibrators, banter about physics, cunnilingus, Yaga is tired, oral sex (male + female), college! AU, both reader and Satoru do some growing up, overstimulation, super sappy actually, pet names (sweetheart, hardass), swearing.

Word count. 10.5k

A/N. Passed out five times, here’s Part 2 (joke). PART 1 HERE. Art by @_3aem on X.

Gojo Satoru likes to think he’s hilarious. A real connoisseur of the fine art of comedy. The fifth member of Impractical Jokers, if you will. 

Which is probably why, for someone who didn’t know the definition of shutting the fuck up, he sure was intent on staying quiet about whatever this was.

It’s been exactly 2 weeks, 5 days and 17 hours since you and Satoru had entered this weird limbo, and there still wasn’t a peep out of the man about what the two of you are to each other.

Friends? Acquaintances? A booty call that he happens to argue way too much with? You’d smack that pretty nose of his if that was the case - as soon as you admittedly stopped being a pussy yourself…

But, semantics.

And right now, his fingers intertwined with yours as he practically drags you through the aquarium ticket counter - you couldn’t help but wonder - was this a date?

Not exactly lovers, but definitely more than friends, a tense understanding crackling in the air between you two. Something prickly and jittery that pooled in your stomach and made your head spin. 

And as someone used to having the answers to everything, it bothered you that you didn’t have the one to this. 

You haven’t been to an aquarium since you were a kid - quickly having outgrown it at the ripe age of seven. So, really, it made sense that the 6’3 manchild beside you insisted it was the perfect spot to celebrate finishing your assignment.

“That damn quantum entanglement hell.” you’d called it - and ranted about all the way inside - more so to fill the charged silence than anything. His fingers still tight around yours despite the dissipating crowd, burning into your skin.

“You know for someone who loves the elegance of science, you’re an extra hardass about quantum entanglement.” he titters in-between worried mutters of “doesn’t that old lady look like the mafia queenpin from the café.” as you two try to navigate your way through the aquarium.

You desperately cling onto his remark - a sense of normalcy you could finally breathe in.

“Well, Satoru, for someone who treats life like an improv show, you sure have a knack for avoiding scientific precision,” you retort, some strange part of you delighting in the way his fingers tighten around yours. 

“Precision is for pussies.” he chuckles, bringing up a hand to your face, fingers wiggling in a ludicrous attempt at hypnotic suggestion. “Besides, sweetheart, life is a cosmic joke, and quantum mechanics is the punchline.”

“As expected from a Pilot-Wave theorist, that just sounds like an excuse to be lazy. ‘Oh, let’s embrace uncertainty and blame it on quantum mechanics!’”

“It’s also the punchline.”

“At least my punchlines make sense.”

He lets out an exaggerated whine, “And here I thought we were bonding over shared disdain for the hard-headed laws of physics.”

“Shared disdain? I actually respect the laws of physics. They’re the backbone of our universe.”

“Maybe.” he responds, voice a bit uncharacteristically somber. “But, quantum mechanics, uncertainty, whatever. In the end it doesn’t matter the universe, aren’t we all just wandering through a sea of unpredictability? It’s exciting.” he weaves through the crowd with you, gaze flickering between you and the vibrant schools of fish.

And maybe you’re an overthinker - you’ve always been told you were - but it felt like his words carried a heavy tone that went beyond your stupid little debate about quantum entanglement. This was not about physics.

“That excitement often leads to chaos, no matter the universe.”

“Embrace the chaos in every universe then. It keeps things interesting.”

“You’re incorrigible.” you scoff, meeting his intense gaze head-on, skin flaring at the sheer intensity of it. “I bet in every universe you’re an unchangeable hell-raiser.”

“Maybe.” He leans in, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, gaze now locked on you, his lips dangerously ghosting your ear. “Or maybe I’m just more of a hands-on learner?”

It might never have been about physics.

It’s innocent fun, right? Two classmates celebrating the end of an assignment? Innocent, innocent fu-

“Y’know with the way you’re so dripping wet f’me, I’m starting to think our lil’ arguments are just foreplay, prez.”

Sleek plastic cold against your back, Satoru’s mouth hot on yours - hungry and insistent. Lips tangy with the taste of minty toothpaste and the thrill of the forbidden as he cages you against that heady bathroom stall.

“You’re the one that riles me up. Got a degradation kink, Satoru?” you shoot back between gasps as his greedy hands map every curve and dip of your body. Groping. Kneading. Such a fucking tease.

“Mhm~ Love when you talk dirty to me, sweetheart.” he hums into the heated skin of your neck. White-hot tingles of electricity running along your body. “Though, I really prefer when that smart mouth is choking around my cock instead.”

“I’m gonna hah- drown you in the fucking clownfish tank.”

“Kinky, but that’s not that’s not the magic word, sweetheart.”

You grit your teeth - in both pleasure and irritation, but most importantly the need for more more more. He always did drive you insane. Words choked, “P-please.”

A sharp moan rips from your throat as long fingers graze your swollen folds through your soaked panties. Teasing the dainty hem. Pulling it down. Delving in. Curving deftly upwards, easily pressing into that one spot inside. Over and over. In and out in and out in and-

“Teasing hah- teasing bastard.” you hiss, even as your traitorous hips buck into his touch.

Satoru chuckles darkly, breath warm against your ear, sending shivers running down your spine. “Your teasing bastard.” Your heart pounds in your ears, mind caught on the “your”, drowning out the distant hum and bustle of the aquarium outside. 

And before you can open your mouth - maybe to say something so utterly stupid - he falls to his knees. Pretty lips ghosting your inner thigh, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. A stark contrast with the cool air of the bathroom stall. 

Mindlessly, your legs press together, a bead of slick trailing enticingly down them - aching for an ounce of friction. Down, down, down-

And Satoru notices - of course he notices - because his tongue darts out urgently, tracing the seam of your swollen folds. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, pooling your juices on his tongue before letting them flow down his throat - groaning as if it was his favorite taste. 

Shit, you really were his favorite taste. 

Nose-deep in your cunt and on his knees in that cramped aquarium bathroom, all he can do is lap up your juices. Cock aching, tasting you, breathing you in like a man dying of thirst. 

Pulling down his trousers just enough for his throbbing erection to spring free. Leaking tip smearing against his toned abdomen, trailing down the prominent vein in the middle. A large hand firmly gripping the base, pressing his heavy balls so obscenely on your calf, pulling in sinful little tugs to you.

Blood rushes straight to the throbbing erection in his hands at the way your breath hitches, pretty little mewls of his name leaving those kiss-bitten lips. Such a shame he had to muffle them, two fingers in your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself. 

Ah, he didn’t get to see those manta rays yet, but it’s alright - right now, hips bucking helplessly into him, your hands knotted in his hair - you’re his favorite view anyway. His pretty girl.

“Hngh- Jus’ like that, Satoru.” you moan.

He groans into your dripping pussy, vibrations sending a jolt of electricity shooting through your veins, making you clench further around the tongue pushing its way into your heated hole. Cunt aching for release, and his leaking cock not far behind as he fucks his fist urgently. Grinding into you like a fucking dog in heat.

“Please.” 

Granting your unspoken request, he moves purposefully. Nose catching on your clit, rubbing it over and over as he alternates between gentle sucks and rapid thrusts of his tongue dipping into your entrance. Satoru’s unspoken pace sends you spiraling into insanity - and the edge. 

Almost there.

You lock eyes with him, seeing just as much need for you reflected back in his own eyes. Flitting between his hungry gaze and the thumb teasing his flushed slit. Jerky, desperate strokes of his hand along his veined length - up, up, up - just the way you do it.

Time seems to stand still as with one two three thrusts you shatter all over his tongue. Choked-up cries of his name bouncing off the walls of the empty bathroom as you chase peak after peak on his pretty face.

Your vision blurs at the edges, blood roaring in your ears. Torn between wanting to scream in pleasure and not wanting to be arrested for public indecency. Breathless whispers of pleasure slurring together as your mind clouds with only Satoru Satoru Satoru-

As the haze clears slightly, you realize you’re cradling his head, stroking his silky locks soothingly. Pulling away - embarrassed more at this than what just transpired - you let Satoru rise to his feet, towering over you. 

“On your knees, sweetheart.”

Still delirious from your orgasm, you mindlessly drop to your knees before him. Wordlessly, he guides himself into your mouth, precum salty on your tongue and cock glistening in the dim light of the bathroom.

His hips begin to thrust, matching the pace from before as he fucks your hot mouth. You relax your jaw, letting him take control as he plunges deeper and deeper. Fighting the urge to gag as he hits the back of your throat. Saliva drips down your chin so lewdly, smearing on his cock,

Satoru’s breathing grows heavier and heavier as your nose hits the tufts of hair on his pelvis, already wet with precum and spit. Grip searing on your scalp, you look up to meet his gaze - eyes half-lidded and tears clinging to your lashes.

Maybe it was the carnal look in your eyes, or the way your glossy lips stretch so prettily around him - because with a guttural groan, Satoru spills his load down your throat. Grasp steady on your hair, making you sputter and drink every drop as his cock twitches on your tongue. Cum dribbling down the corner of your lips, the tap! tap! tap! of it ringing in your ears.

As his high passes, you feel as if you’re in a daze as Satoru helps you up. Voice shot and throat burning as he cleans the both of you up. 

Gentle hands on your cheek, a thumb caressing your lips. Your face burning at the way he looks at you. Why does he look at you like that.

A soft smile plays on his lips - kiss-bitten and prettily glossed with your juices. Wordlessly, he leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your lips, sending a sudden tug at your heartstrings.

“I bet in every universe we sneak around and choose the worst lil’ hideouts.”

Yeah. Yeah, maybe you did.

And you don’t know why it hurt. 

It’s almost like you’re on autopilot as you quickly smooth down your clothes and follow Satoru outside, back into the bustling aquarium as inconspicuously as possible. 

As you walk side by side, you can’t help but feel the previous euphoria inside you coiling into something more. Something uncomfortable.

Passing by a group of kids excitedly pointing at a giant tank of tropical fish, you feel a wistful ache as you’re reminded of simpler times. Back when you didn’t analyze everything interaction. Maybe back when things were better.

Pulling back, “Satoru…”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“About what happened…about us-” you sputter out, uncharacteristically inarticulate. “I don’t want-”

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, y’know.” 

Your head snaps up. Unspoken words lingering in the air - is it me or you that doesn’t want to talk about it.

Your eyes catch on the shine of his hair in the cool light. The subtle flex of muscles beneath his shirt as he leads the way through the mesmerizing corridors of the aquarium, the soft glow of the tanks casting an ethereal light on his silhouette. 

His hand warm in yours, and that little dimple at the corner of his grin as he turns to you. Devastating.

It was like something snapped. And it hits you with a pang. All glory and beautiful.

He wasn’t yours.

And he probably might never be.

Somehow that terrified you. 

Because in the end, weren’t you just playing along in his elaborate cosmic joke? Just part of his unknown?

But why did that hurt so much?

“Gojo, I’m going home.”

Fear.

---

There have only been three times in his life that Gojo Satoru has truly felt fear. The first, of course, was right after kissing your pretty lips in that dingy closet - if there was ever a true “ah, if I live I’m making this my legacy” moment then that was it. 

The second was when he accidentally walked in on Yaga practicing his interpretative dance routine in the faculty lounge. The man had some moves - but it was something that Satoru saw nightmares about for days.

And the third time? Well, that’s the ongoing saga of trying to decipher you and why the hell you were sitting in another row during Advanced Quantum Physics, so gorgeous and unbothered ignoring him.

No texts, no calls, no snarky debates on anything since the aquarium a few days ago.  

Almost as if he was back to square one - worse even.

So yes, Gojo Satoru is scared. In fact, some might even say he’s utterly terrified. 

But even more than that, he’s so so stupid.

Because for the life of him he couldn’t remember what he’d done to mess up that fragile little connection that you two had formed. 

Maybe you just liked seafood too much to visit the aquarium? That couldn’t be it…

Did you find out he accidentally knocked over that stack of books in the library and blamed it on you? No, he’s heard you blame worse things on him to his face. 

Have you finally gotten sick of him?

…

Nahhh.

He steals a glance in your direction. Eyes mapping your ramrod posture, the way you’re hanging off of Yaga’s every word, and that slight frown marring your features. Ah, you looked so beautiful there even when you looked like you’re about to have an aneurysm.

It’s as if you’ve erected an invisible fortress around yourself, and he’s outside looking in. Desperately calling for you.

Satoru sighs inwardly, realizing he’s going to have to pull out the big guns. With the subtlety of a sledgehammer, he clears his throat, shifting his chair a little too loudly to yours in the row in front of him. 

Paying no mind to the irritated glance that Yaga (and you) shoot at him, he whispers loud enough that it probably carries to the entire classroom. “So, prez~ Did I accidentally stumble into an alternate universe where you still hate me or have you just been avoiding me like I’m a contagious disease.”

You flinch - probably both at the audacity and at him addressing you. Eyes still firmly trained on the now-disgruntled Yaga, you reply curtly, “This is not an alternate universe, Gojo. And I haven’t been avoiding you, I’ve just been busy.”

“Busy ignoring me? Space might’ve worked for Neil Armstrong but it won’t work for me, sweetheart. Just tell me what I did so I can get on my knees and beg for forgiveness.”

Your brows furrow, eyes rereading the same sentence on your textbook over and over. “Just focus on these causal dynamical triangulations, Gojo.”

“Oh yeah, I had one of those once.”

“Satoru. I swear to-”

A sharp call of your name - followed by his. Professor Yaga’s irritation, now palpable, hangs in the air like a storm. “If you two can't maintain some decorum, I suggest you continue your discussion outside.”

Satoru grins unabashedly, batting his long lashes, “Why, Yaga, I thought you enjoyed our discussions.”

“Out, both of you.”

Each word clipped and shattering your dreams of becoming Professor Yaga’s protégé into tinier and tinier pieces. 

“You heard the man, prez. Let’s take this show on the road.” 

Hastily, you gather your belongings, shooting an apologetic glance at Professor Yaga, who gives you a sympathetic look in response. As the door slams behind you, noise ringing in your ears, you stand frozen in a mixture of shock and disbelief. 

Satoru, however, seems unfazed. “Well, that was an unbridled success.”

Irritation spikes as you hiss out, “What?”

“I mean, you called me Satoru for the first time in days so I consider that an unbridled success.”

A strange stab at your heart, and maybe for the first time since working together on that quantum entanglement assignment, Satoru’s joke doesn’t land. 

Your eyes narrow at him, “This isn’t a joke, Satoru. I needed Professor Yaga’s guidance - how else am I going to get a research position with him?”

“It wasn’t a joke.” 

Following your weighty silence, Satoru lets out a heavy sigh. The expression on his face looked more serious than you’d ever seen it as his eyes search yours. “Look, prez, I didn’t mean to mess things up for you - though Yaga basically worships the ground you walk on so-” 

At your raised eyebrow he gets back on track, “Anyway, something’s wrong and I just wanted to understand what’s going on between us.”

A humorless laugh leaves your lips, “Now you want to talk about us?”

You clench your fists, frustration and confusion boiling over within you. You know you’re part of this too. You know you’re not blameless in this tangled mess. And right now, the sheer warmth of his gaze made a strange little part of you consider just giving in and running to his arms. Fuck what he wants of you. Fuck all the uncertainty. 

And that’s exactly what scared you.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady the whirlwind of thoughts within your mind. “I don’t even know what ‘us’ is, Gojo. And I don’t think you do either.”

Your voice is surprisingly steady - as are your feet as they carry you away from Satoru. You’d caught one, final glance at the slump of his shoulders, and the silent plea in his eyes. 

Purposeful steps sound in your ears as you walk to God-knows-where. Yet, they still stutter - as does your heart - as Satoru’s voice rings in the hallway behind you, “Take all the time you need, prez. I’ll win you back with my world-renowned Gojo charm again~”

Light words following a heavy admission, his humor attempting to bandage over the cracks of what you two had not too long ago. The echo of his words accompany you down the corridor, and despite yourself, you find your lips tugging into the slightest beginnings of a smile. The slightest.

It’s okay. This is okay. Things can go back to whatever they were now - normal, steady.

“World-renowned Gojo charm.” you repeat under your breath, ready to find a quiet corner of campus where you can throw yourself into causal dynamical triangulations. 

Gaze unwavering, Satoru stands still, searching for any signs of you looking back. Turn around. Turn around turn around turn-

“Mr. Gojo, are you going to find the building exit with the same enthusiasm you exhibit when spouting lines from your imaginary romance novel?”

“Ah. Yaga, I was just- wait imaginary? I can assure you that my charm is as real as quantum mechanics - just ask your star student! Although these days even quantum mechanics might have trouble explaining why she’s-”

“Mr. Gojo.”

“Understood. On my way.” A comical salute, “May your lectures be as riveting as my girl when she’s threatening to drown me in clownfish tanks~”

“Good. And please, spare us all from any more ‘unbridled success’ in the future.”

---

The following week turned into a delicate dance, a waltz of cautious side steps and tense half-glances - all of which were met by that fond gaze that made your heart clutch so involuntarily. Like a silent drama where neither of you knew the next line.

The sprawling campus now seemed so tiny, a tension connecting the two of you like an invisible thread. From Professor Yaga’s class - now so dull without that usual bickering - all the way down to that café just off-campus where the stuffy air hums with old banter and unspoken words.

Yet, the routine remained unchanged, you still found yourself visiting there time and time again - by that little booth in the corner, right next to the window. Just without your familiar companion.

You never realized how quiet the café could get without someone talking your ear off about everything from the Pilot-Wave theory to why the little girl at the grocery store who mistook him for a Kakashi cosplayer is definitely conspiring against him. 

It’s thrown you off - and you’re sick of thinking of that stupid smirk when you’re trying to meticulously sort through the overflow of student archives.

Ugh, you’ve been losing sleep over these for days. Feeling hot under your temples, you try to push away the pressure behind your eyes - If you don’t get this categorized before the next meeti-

“Whatcha reading, sweetheart?”

Speak of the devil.

Startled, you look up from your sea of paperwork. 

Ah, there he was. All nonchalance and grace, eyes twinkling with mischief and an easy grin curling his lips. And for a moment - a brief, fleeting moment - you’re filled with a familiar warmth, tension from the past few days melting into nothingness.

“Oh, just some archives.” you blink, with a measured calmness.

“Absolutely fascinating.” Satoru chuckles, sliding into the chair across from you with the casual elegance of someone who’s completely unaware of the mess he left in his wake. “What’s next, a riveting analysis on the historical significance of paperclips?”

Ignoring his banter, you focus diligently on the task at hand - Gakuganji would have your head. “If only. Now what do you want, Satoru? I’m busy.”

His grin widens, undeterred. “Busy with what? Cataloging the thrilling history of staplers and notepads?”

You shoot him a pointed look, “The secret lives of archives can be more scandalous than you think, Gojo.” 

“Just how do you contain your excitement, prez?”

“I don’t.” you drone out. Shuffling your papers, gathering them with a deliberate focus. “Now, if you’re done with your stand-up routine, I actually have work to do.”

Satoru straightens up, the playfulness in his eyes dimming ever so slightly. “Wait wait, sweetheart, we need to talk.”

You let out a sigh - there it is. And maybe you were being petty. Maybe you were slightly scared. “Oh, now, we do? How convenient.”

“Can’t we just go back to the way things were? I don’t want things to be weird between us.” He runs a hand through his silky locks, a gesture that usually accompanies his frustration. 

A bitter laugh escapes your lips. “Weird? Gojo, things have been weird between us for a while now. You just never bothered to notice until it got inconvenient for you..” You stand up, your archives now neatly organized. “I have to finish seven files of these now, excuse me.”

A subtle ache takes residence in your bones as you walk away, his gaze hot on your back. The barista, a friendly soul who had witnessed countless interactions between you and Gojo, offered you a sympathetic smile as you made your way out.

The café's atmosphere, once cozy with laughter, now suffocatingly laced with unease. That invisible thread connecting you both feels strained. Hanging by the thinnest of threads - on the verge of snapping. 

And, yet, through it all one thought rings clear. 

You missed him.

Satoru didn’t know what hurt more - the way you called him “Gojo” or the way he didn’t even get a giggle out of his paperclip joke.

“Gojo, things have been weird between us for a while now.”

Yeah, definitely the way you called him “Gojo”.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the cloud of doom himself. I can barely enjoy my Earl Grey. What’s eating at you, young man?” 

Satoru’s head snaps up at the curious croak, tone a mix of concern and amusement. His eyes meet sharp, perceptive ones that seem to cut through his sulky haze. Oh, it’s the mafia queenpin.

At his wordless staring she plows on, taking a seat opposite him, “Oh c’mon, boy. Don’t think I haven’t seen you lurking and moping about. You’ve got as much subtlety as my late husband - and he once tried to hide a mistress by having her disguise as a potted plant.”

A half-hearted grin makes its way onto his face, “No potted plants here, just the usual existential crisis. You know how it is.”

The old lady snorted, unimpressed. “Please, spare me the theatrics. I’ve seen drama queens with more subtlety. Now spill.”

Satoru hesitated, wincing at the stare that seemed to cut right into his soul. It reminded him of a little someone. 

Finally, he sighs relentingly, “It's complicated. Things with someone... changed. I miss the way it used to be, you know?”

A sharp cackle, echoing in the empty space around them. “Ah, love troubles. You youngsters make it sound so dramatic. Look, boy, if you want something, go and get it.”

He huffs in defeat, now way more into impromptu love counseling than he initially thought he’d be. “I tried but-”

But the old lady cuts him off, sharp and incisive, “Trying isn’t the same as doing, kid. And let me tell you, I’ve seen enough guys like you wasting time pondering instead of acting.” 

It seems this mafia queenpin brought out all the childish, petty sides of him. Because Satoru whines in a way that he definitely wouldn’t if you hadn’t been avoiding him and if you hadn’t called him “Gojo” and-

“But she hates me, and she’s sick of me.” A rare vulnerability creeping into his voice. “Maybe things were better the way they were.”

“Life’s too short for that crap. And trust me, that girl does not hate you, you’re just scaring her off. I would have smacked you after that first dumb comment about paperclips.” The old lady snorts, dismissing his complaint. “Uptight academics, always scared of their own feelings. Afraid that if they acknowledge them, the world might end.” 

Satoru blinks, taken aback by the unexpected insight. “Scaring her off? I'm just being myself.”

She leans in, sharp eyes drilling into him - picking him apart. “Being yourself doesn't mean avoiding the real conversations. You’ve got feelings, boy. Instead of playing the joker, try being sincere for once. Maybe you’ll be surprised.” 

Taking a patient sip of her tea, “Now, go and fix whatever mess you made. Or better yet, just grab the girl and give her a damn good kiss. Works wonders.”

Satoru blinks, taken aback by the unexpected advice. The old lady cackles again, a knowing twinkle in her eye.

“Now, scram, and let an old lady enjoy her coffee in peace.” 

He nods, more to himself than her, feeling a strange mix of determination and embarrassment at being given advice by the same lady he had a silent bet with you about being an underground overlord.

Immediately standing up, he salutes her goodbye before rushing out - only to stop abruptly halfway out the door. Turning and speedwalking back to the table, with a mix of curiosity and urgency. 

“Hey, granny, I have a question.”

“Anything as long as it isn’t my age, boy.”

“Would you happen to have any mafia connections by chance?.”

Ah, you think you’re dying. 

Or maybe that’s just what the towering stack of papers on your cluttered desk want you to think…

It mocks you. A painful reminder of the mundane world you were now in. That invisible thread connecting you to that little booth in the corner of the café now feels like a noose tightening around your neck. 

What’s done is done. And right now you have bigger fish to fry - fish shaped annoyingly like the unresolved chaos of these archives.

You rub your eyes, room swaying slightly as you squint at the tiny print, letters melting into one another and conspiring against you. Rereading the same sentence over and over, sweat beading on your forehead.

God, was the heater on too high?

The documents on the desk seem to dance, a mocking waltz that laughs in the face of your feeble attempts to restore order. Chaos. 

Stop it.  

An incessant pounding on your temples, blood roaring in your ears. 

You reach for a pen, your fingers fumbling as it slips through your grasp. Falling onto the floor with a clatter that reverberates in your throbbing head. Chaos. 

The room is stifling, walls closing in on you. Breaths hot and labored. Temples drumming louder. And louder.  Urgent and insistent. Chaos.

“Open up! It’s Satoru!”

Satoru.

Body acting before your brain, you stagger out of your seat, the world spinning dangerously as you clutch onto the desk for support.

Satoru?

Your unsteady feet carry you towards the door - almost subconsciously. You wince at the stab of pain in your temples as it throbs in time with the urgent knocking.

Hands unsteady on the doorknob, vision bleary, yet you’d recognize that shock of cloudy hair anywhere. His words hit you before the realization that Satoru was here, and why was he here looking so adorably disheveled like he’d run here and what was he rambling about now-

“I'm so so sorry. I messed up, I should’ve noticed. I know I’ve been avoiding the real conversation and I didn’t realize how much-”

His voice, tinged with a vulnerability you’re not used to hearing, is abruptly cut off as Satoru looks up from where he was fumbling with his fingers in nervousness - wide blue eyes taking in your glassy eyes and clammy skin. In your hazy vision you make out the deep concern creeping its way onto those pretty features.

“Sweetheart?”

A sudden wave of dizziness hits you. The room tilts, and for a brief, disorienting moment, you feel like you’re floating in space. Ah, didn’t know you could breathe in space. Wonder if you’ll win a Nobel for this discovery?

A sharp call of your name cuts through the haze, the last thing you register before the world folds around you like a delicate paper. Fading to black., and perhaps the warm arms around you are the only thing grounding you right now. The chaotic waltz has won.

Now, the great Gojo Satoru usually calls his mother for only one of two reasons - 1. His beloved ramen shop is closed, or worse - out of his favorite special spicy sauce, and 2. A dire and life-threatening emergency.

“Mama! I’ve got an emergency and no it’s not the ramen this time.”

His mother’s voice crackles through the phone, a mix of concern and amusement. “Satoru, are you sure it’s that dire? I’m at a work meeting, y’know”

Dramatically, “Of course, mama. Someone I care about is sick. Yes, I have a heart under this fabulous exterior. A real one.”

A brief pause, “Oh my lil’ Toru~ You mean you finally confessed to that student prez you’ve been swooning over for months? The one with ‘a brilliant mind like a quantum computer’ and ‘eyes like-’”

Squirming in embarrassment, “Well- not exactly, but-”

“Spill.”

“I need the recipe to our secret family chicken soup, like, urgently. It’s a life-or-death situation.”

His mother’s laughter echoes through the phone. “Life-or-death, huh? Alright, my little drama king, I’ll send it right away. But you owe me a detailed account of what's happening.”

“Deal!”

With a click, the call ends, and Satoru is left in your hallway, holding you in his arms, desperately awaiting the secret weapon - his mother’s legendary chicken soup.

In the meantime, he shifts you in his arms, steady hands carefully lifting you off the ground, cradling you to his chest. 

Face burning at the practiced way his feet carry him to your room. “Come on, sweetheart. Wake up. Don’t make me regret not calling an ambulance. Should I call an ambulance? No, chicken soup first, then maybe an ambulance. Ugh, I should've paid more attention in first aid.”

Slow, deliberate steps through the corridor. Heart dropping as his eyes catch on the mountains of scattered papers and files. Next time he passes by Gakuganji’s office he’s gonna swap the keys on that fossil’s keyboard. 

The soft click of the door closing seems too loud in the quiet room as he lays you gently on the bed. Heart clenching at the way you bury yourself mindlessly into the covers, pretty eyes still screwed shut, he mutters to himself “What am I going to do with you?”

His gaze drifts to the scattered papers on the floor, starting to gather them, creating a semblance of order amidst the chaos. Satoru glances at you, noticing the creased lines on your forehead even in your unconscious state. A pang of guilt hits him.

“Avoiding the real conversation, huh?” he mumbles, more to himself than to you. He risks a glance at your sleeping figure again, “I’m sorry, my sweetheart.”

Finishing his impromptu cleanup - and after taking maybe one picture of you all snuggled up - he gets up determinedly to make the legendary chicken soup. “I’ll make it right, prez. First, chicken soup. Then, we'll have that real conversation, no matter how scary it gets.”

You wake up to the cacophony of pots and pans, and a voice…cursing bad cooking for being genetic? The aromatic smell of chicken soup hits you - as does the cold sweat beading on your forehead.

Joints aching, you try to sit up, the room still spinning - but ever-so-slightly less than before. Recollections from earlier slowly come to you, you don’t even have to look at the figure now standing at the doorway to know who it is.

“Whoa, there, sweetheart. Lay back.”

Your weakened smile is met with a worried frown. Satoru’s gentle tone, masking his franticness, rings in your ears like a song you loved but haven’t heard in a long time. He rushes to guide you gently back onto the bed, a thumb wiping away the sweat trickling down your temple. “Soup’s on the stove. But first, let’s get you cleaned up. Is that okay?”

Before you can protest - as if you had the strength to - Satoru scampers off to your bathroom. You lay there in the deafening silence as he does. You had an image to uphold, archives to categorize, and a Satoru to distance yourself from. 

But right now, your eyes meeting his like constellations aligning in the night sky as he returns with a small basin filled with warm water, a soft cloth draped over his shoulder, you think that you wouldn’t mind falling apart for him. 

Sitting down beside you, his gaze never leaving your face, “Just relax, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” A tenderness in his voice matching the warmth of the damp washcloth gently dabbing your forehead.

A heavy feeling settles in your gut. You want to shy away from the fondness in those blue depths as they never leave yours. You want to block out the hushed whispers of reassurance as his fingers trail lightly across your skin, uncomfortably hot. You want to cry. 

And you don’t realize you are until Satoru’s hand stiffens, eyes widening with emotions you can’t name. 

Oh. 

Satoru has seen you strong, capable, and fiercely independent. He’s seen you turn his elaborate equation into a doodle of a ramen bowl with the caption, “Even my ramen has more substance than this theory, Satoru.”

But Satoru has never seen you like this. 

“Hey, hey, c’mon. It’s okay, prez. I’m here. I’ve got you.” Satoru whispers, as if afraid that speaking louder might shatter the fragile reality you both find yourselves in.

His words hanging in the air, and the sincerity in his eyes coax you to unravel the knot of emotions you’ve been suppressing ever since you were pushed into that damn closet with him.

“Satoru.” And it spills out. “I’m scared. And I missed you. And I’m scared that I missed you - scared of what that could mean, and scared of where this might lead. Because I missed you and you’re here.”

His brows furrow in concern, but he remains silent, urging you to continue.

“I've built walls, convinced myself that I can’t afford to be vulnerable out of fear of the unpredictable. Yet, here we are. I can’t escape it, and it terrifies me.” you confess, eyes flickering away from the intensity of his gaze as if avoiding the reality of your words.

Satoru inches his hand closer to cradle yours. “You don’t have to be scared, prez, I’m not going anywhere.” His voice a steady anchor, “Though, I was scared too. Scared that if I confronted these feelings, you’d run away. So, I waited, telling myself that I was giving you time, but honestly it was just a shitty excuse.”

His thumb caresses the back of your hand, a gentle rhythm matching the beating of your heart. “Because for all I spout about chaos and uncertainty, facing these feelings head-on is scarier than any angry Yaga.”

A fresh wave of tears - both at his admission and at that familiar attempt to lighten the humor. “You’re an idiot you know.” you sputter.

“I know.”

“And your theories on life and the universe are stupid.”

“Absolutely.”

“And your overpriced glasses make you look like the fourth blind rat from Shrek.”

“Now that’s too far, he’s a mouse, sweetheart.”

A watery chuckle as his fingers interlace with yours. Satoru leans in, his forehead resting against yours - no care in the world for how contagious you might be. Because fuck if the sickness might not be then these feelings sure were.

“You scared me, y’know.” he confesses.

“I’m sorry. I should have taken care of my-”

“Not that.” Satoru’s unspoken words echo in the small, charged space between you two.

Your heart clenches, understanding. “For that, I am sorry, too.”

Disappointment spikes your heart as he withdraws slightly, hand feeling cold at the sudden absence. But before you can question the impending doom at his mischievous glint, Satoru produces a pen from your top drawer. 

“What are you up to now, Satoru?” you drone, raising a brow at his antics.

“Just a little insurance policy.” he smirks at your confused hum, taking your left hand back in his. Pen poised over your ring finger, ink cold on your skin.

“Insurance policy against what?”

“A promise.”

A delicate infinity sign, it draws your gaze and locks it there. You almost miss the flush creeping up on Satoru’s ears, “Just a symbol, y’know- We can get an actual ring if you want, my mother is actually best friend’s with-”

The sight of him makes something bloom in your chest. It hurt. Not because of fear, but because you felt so full. 

Cutting off his rambles with your lips on his. Steady, and electric, molding together as if they were meant to fit perfectly. A lingering promise. 

When you finally pull away, he huffs out an euphoric laugh. “I was gonna say you look like you wanted to kiss me so bad, but you already did.”

Rolling your eyes, “Think if I tell you something now you can write it off as me being sick and delirious?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Satoru, I love you.”

And that’s all Satoru ever wanted to hear.

“And I love you, in every universe.”

---

The sleep that follows Satoru’s “world famous Gojo family chicken soup” - and that heavy conversation - is the best you’ve had in days. You dream of manta rays in tuxedos, the guests of honor at yours and Satoru’s Nobel prize ceremony.

And, 12 full hours later and finally clear-headed, you find yourself groggily standing in the middle of your room. Blinking in disbelief at the perfectly categorized files of archives, and the sparkling organization of your once-scattered space - Satoru, peacefully snoring at your desk, pen still tightly gripped in his hand.

He…finished all of it?

Your heart clenches, warmth flowering all over your body. 

As you approach, Satoru stirs, those familiar blue eyes slowly opening to meet yours. A dazed smile stretches across his face as he sheepishly scratches the back of his head.

“Got a bit carried away. Guess you really are rubbing off on me, prez.” he chuckles, his voice still laced with sleep. 

“Good then, soon your brain won’t be a black hole of theoretical abstractions.”

Eyes sparkling, he throws his head back to laugh, carefree. “There’s my girl. Feeling better now, hm?”

Your face burns at his words, and his proximity as he stands from his chair to tower over you. Heat radiating off his skin. “Yeah, all thanks to your mother’s recipe.”

“And my charm, of course.”

“Oh, yes, the begging on your knees.”

“Hey it worked, didn’t it? Don’t insult the world-renowned Gojo charm that way~!”

You raise an eyebrow, unable to suppress a smirk. “Yes, yes of course. That world-renowned ‘Gojo charm’ strikes again. Is that why Yaga sent me a gift basket apologizing on your behalf?”

“Listen, sometimes collateral apologies are inevitable. And I learned the hard way that wishing Yaga’s lectures are as riveting as my girl when she’s threatening to drown me in clownfish tanks does not go well.”

A startled laugh escapes your lips, sound bouncing off the once-heavy walls, and you almost miss the captivated expression on Satoru’s face. A tender smile spreads across his lips.

Laughter bating, you throw your hands around his waist in one, fluid motion, relishing at his flustered expression. “We should go to the aquarium again sometime.”

“Mhm~”

A beat of silence. One. Two. 

“Satoru?”

He leans in, minty breath fanning your face. “Yes, sweetheart?”

“Thank you.”

Body moving almost subconsciously, your lips crush against his. Hungry and yearning. Kissing each other with a desperation that eclipses the need for air. He didn’t mind dying if it meant suffocating by your lips anyway - both of them. 

You let out a muffled moan as he pulls on your lips, hands snaking down to grip your ass, squeezing possessively. His tongue was sloppy, intertwining with yours with matching urgency. Trapping yours between his ruby lips, sucking so lewdly. 

Large fingers bruising on your waist, pulling you flush against his body till you could feel the incessant banging of his heart against his ribcage - or maybe that was yours. 

His shirt is all but ripped off of him - as is yours, and if you were in a clearer state of mind you’d feel sad at the tattered state of your favorite Steins;Gate t-shirt. But all that flies out of your mind at the creamy skin of Satoru’s chiseled chest. 

You raise your hips to meet the throbbing erection now straining against his pants, fabric stretched and precum forming a pool right at the tip of his leaking head. A low groan is stifled into your mouth, almost as if it hurt to be apart. 

Satoru’s fingers dig into your hips, moving you to grind against his achingly hard length at a maddeningly sensual pace. Up and down, up and down, up and-

A white-hot jolt of electricity runs down to your cunt each time the prominent vein down his side catches on your covered clit, thin panties now soaked with your slick and his precum.

You almost don’t recognize the disappointed whine that leaves your lips as he pulls away, delicate strings of spit snapping.

“You drive me insane, sweetheart.” he murmurs, breathless with lust. 

“The feeling’s mutual, Satoru.”

And it was like something snapped - maybe his sanity, probably you by the end of this.

Because with a low, carnal growl, Satoru picks you up as if you weigh nothing. Seating you roughly onto your nearby desk and pinning you down. Papers scattering everywhere in the heat of the moment, rendering his earlier hard work useless. 

Satoru crowds your space, ravaging your mouth, grinding against your heated core till the only thing you can see is him, the only thing you can feel is him, the only thing you can think of-

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. The friction is maddening, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

Yet, Satoru, as always, disrupts your plans. Breaking the heated kiss, he trails his lips down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. You cry out - both in pain and pleasure - as he continues his assault, digging your nails into his sculpted back.

“I won’t be the first one to cum.” he mutters into the crook of your neck as a hand roams up your thigh, deftly pulling off your shorts. You writhe beneath him as lithe fingers tease the hem of your dripping panties, relishing in the choked gasp that leaves Satoru’s mouth as your swollen lips catch on his tip.

“Oh yeah? Damn well won’t be me either.”

You’ve barely gotten the words out before he tears off your panties, pocketing this pair as well for a lonely night - though, with the way your cunt quivers at his touch, he doubts it’ll be any time soon. “Wanna bet, prez~?”

He plunges his fingers inside you with a savageness that steals your breath away. Easily finding that magical spot, thrusting inside to hit it with scary accuracy over and over. Your plush walls convulse around him, crying out his name. Ah, he missed this. 

But you weren’t gonna sit there and be one-upped. A trembling hand moves down to urgently tug down his tight boxers. Rock-hard cock springing out, glistening with precum, your favorite shade of pretty pink. It made your mouth water. 

Satoru’s eyes roll to the back of his head as he feels your tight grip on his length, thumb swirling deftly under the sensitive slit. Spreading his precum along his flushed head. Torturing him. Warmth pooling at your core at the way he fucks your fist in mindless, shallow thrusts.

“Fuck. You really do drive me insane.” he groans, voice strained with desire as he keeps up the punishing pace of his fingers in your dripping cunt. Both of you unrelenting. Both of you in a fight for the other’s release.

It’s a close tie.

“Oh- oh, sweetheart I’m-” 

And Satoru spills into your hand in thick, hot spurts and pornographic moans. Your fist still pumps up and down his twitching length, milking him for all he’s worth as you tip over the edge as well, walls fluttering around his merciless fingers.

“I win.” you challenge, eyes half-lidded as you still reel from the intensity of your orgasm. Satoru’s fingers quiver inside you as he pulls out with a hiss. Pupils blown-out, the look in his eyes feral.

A slow grin spreading across his lips, words breathless and tinged with a bit of insanity that made your pussy clench, “Best out of three?”

“Always knew you were a sore loser.”

“Nah, I’d win.”

“You’re on.”

Before you know it, you’re being thrown onto the bed, bouncing at the sheer force of the throw - cut short as Satoru looms over you, pinning you down onto the mattress.

His lips graze yours with a tenderness that doesn’t translate to his hips as they grind on yours. You moan as his still-painfully hard erection throbs against your wall, head falling back in surrender as your swollen folds envelope him in his favorite heaven. Sensitive - so sensitive. 

Hands moving to your breasts, cupping them, teasing. Rolling your nipples between his deft fingers as your hips buck wildly into his. Precum and slick smearing obscenely. Faster. More desperate. Absolutely filthy. Racing towards the end.

And your voice cuts through the heady air, “W-wait, Satoru, wait. As the winner last time…” Words trailing off enticingly, a hand reaching hastily underneath your pillow. 

Oh, just when Satoru didn’t think you could surprise him any more. 

A jolt goes through his body at the thick, pink vibrator that emerges from beneath the pillow. Sleek metal catching the light, his eyes trailing up, up, up, intimidatingly large in your hands.

Eyes widening, Satoru’s breath hitches in his throat as he watches you handle it with practiced ease. Flip, switch - bzzzzz-

It rings in his ears and resonates through the room. A surprised smile stretched across his lips, despite himself. “Oh, who knew the esteemed student prez was such a little minx. Shit, sweetheart, gonna give me a heart attack.”

“You’re not the only one with lonely nights.” You nod pointedly at his pants - strewn across your bedroom floor and panties stuffed safely in his pocket. 

You bite your lower lip in a way that has probably all the blood in Satoru’s body rushing to his pulsing cock. Aching for something. Aching for you. 

Sensually, you press the buzzing toy against your clit, hips bucking at the immediate and intense stimulation. A jolt of pleasure making you gasp.

Satoru watches, spellbound, as you writhe beneath him - eyes locked so dangerously with his. He can see the slick beading at your folds, pooling onto your bed sheets. 

Impulsively, he reaches out, wrapping a large hand around yours, guiding it to your dripping hole. “Now…” your eyes light up in excitement at his predatory tone. “That’s just playing dirty, prez. I might just cream myself.”

Agonizingly slow, Satoru eases the vibrator inside you, walls clamping down so deliciously. A clever hand draws tight, little circles on your throbbing clit. 

You arch off the bed at the sensation and the stretch - full. So full. Full and so in heaven.

A fresh wave of slick coating the already-glistening metal, Satoru begins to fuck the toy into you, matching the rhythm of the vibrations. Relentless, he was absolutely relentless. Base meeting your swollen lips, tip kissing your cervix. 

It drives you insane. He drives you insane. 

“Fu-fuck Satoru-” Breathing ragged, tears pricking your eyes at the sensitivity, it only takes one two three more thrusts of the vibrator stuffing your cunt before you’re cumming with a loud cry of Satoru’s name, till you see stars behind your eyes. 

“Ah, I’m so glad we made it to the bed this time.” 

“Idiot.”

“Love you too~” Satoru continues to fuck into you mercilessly with it over and over, drawing out your high until you’re left limp and boneless beneath him. The only thing you can do being to take it.

As the shocks of electricity in your body fade, Satoru carefully removes the vibrator. You whimper at the sudden emptiness.

“Round 2 goes to me.” smugness evident in his words, slightly muffled by your lips.

“Shut up and kiss me. It’s the tie-breaker.”

His lips capture yours in a deep kiss. You can taste the salt of your sweat on his lips, and the desperation of the moment. It’s intoxicating. More addictive than any drug in the world. 

Wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him against your body - sticky with sweat and cum - till you can feel his rock-hard cock once more. Eager and aching for you. Teasing your folds with his leaking tip, readily spreading for him.

Finally, after what feels like hours - maybe even weeks - of buildup, he sheaths himself in your snug cunt the way you’d been dying for these lonely nights with just your vibrator. And with the way Satoru lets out a low, desperate moan - head thrown back - you think he might share the sentiment.

“God. Hah- Ah you look so beautiful under me, sweetheart. Hngh- wouldn’t get used to this in my lifetime.”

“Then hngh- find me in the n-next.”

He presses in slowly, languidly - a sensuality that envelopes you and makes you keen at the stretch. Finally bottoming out, he savors the heavenly feeling of being completely inside you. You really were heaven on Earth. 

Pulling back, prominent veins grazing that spot just right, he rams back into you with purpose. Savoring you. Torturing you. “Satoru oh- f-fuck me like you hah- mean it goddamit.”

But it’s not long before the great Gojo Satoru loses his handle on himself. Maybe it was the tears clinging to your lashes. Maybe it was the way your legs wrap so tightly around his waist, meeting him thrust for thrust. Or maybe it was the fucked-out whines of his name spilling from your mouth.

Because he’s fucking into you desperately. Feral, deliberate strokes that make you ass sting at the smack of his heavy balls. The harsh slapping of skin on skin echoing in your heady bedroom at his unforgiving cadence.

The air charged so tensely that you could barely breath - or maybe that was the way Satoru’s furious tip kissing your cervix over and over knocked the air out of your lungs. Every nerve ending in your body felt alight with white-hot pleasure, electrifying you from the tips of your toes to the crown of your head - filled only with Satoru Satoru Satoru-

Vision blurry, head dazed so lustfully, you barely notice the way Satoru reaches down between you, his fingers familiarly finding your clit to rub harsh circles on it in time with his thrusts. It’s too much. Ah, you were going to pass out.

Instead, you cum - all over his twitching cock. The sensation almost too much as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. Especially when your walls clamp down, milking his cock so sinfully as Satoru spills into your snug cunt.

Balls tightening as he thrusts thick ropes of seed into your dripping pussy, your juices mixing with his as he thrusts animalistically into you, fucking it deeper and deeper. Decorating your plush walls white, cum spilling out of your sloppy hole as it overflows. 

Flashes of light behind his eyes at the sensitivity - pain, pleasure, yearning all melting into one, gooey mess that mirrored his heart right now. Desperate calls of your name leaving his lips like a prayer. Because maybe you were his salvation.

With a moan of pure ecstasy at the feeling of being so full you think you’d explode, you pull Satoru to you, nails dragging down his shoulder and every part of you wrapped around him so impossibly tight. As if you never wanted to let go - and you didn’t.

You don’t, even as you both gasp for air - and sanity. Even as he collapses his sweaty body onto yours, careful to not crush you with his weight. And you especially don’t let go as those dazed eyes bore into yours, a tender moment in the weighty silence. 

Because right now, no words were needed.

“I love you.”

“And, I love you. In every universe.”

Except maybe those. 

It’s only once reality is setting in, exhausted and intertwined so tenderly in his arms, that a sense of familiarity permeates the heavy air. 

“I win.”

An agitating, grating voice that you loved so much.

You let out a dragged out groan, rolling your eyes. “That’s only because I went easy on you.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I’d love to prove you wrong, sweetheart, but I think my dick is out of commission for the next week at least.”

A sharp bark of laughter startles its way out of your lips as he bounces you two on the mattress, laying on his stomach and swinging his feet as if he was at some slumber party.

“Soooo~ Now that we’re finally dating, I can finally stop holding back on the quantum entanglement puns, I’ve got a list on my Notes app that-”

“I’m gonna entangle your face with my fist.”

“Jokes on you I’m into that.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“But you love it.”

“Unfortunately.”

---

Gojo Satoru likes to think he’s hilarious. A real connoisseur of the fine art of comedy. The fifth member of Impractical Jokers. 

So, of course, he had to barge into the hell that was his new 8am class with style. Bursting in through the swinging doors, imaginary cape flowing in the wind. Sue him, so what if he’s an attention-whore?! 

His bright gaze sweeps over all the students barely keeping their eyes open, before finally landing on you - on the edge of your seat, brows furrowed so adorably and eagerly drinking in every word Yaga droned on about. Who the hell found advanced quantum physics that riveting?

Intrigue piquing as he makes a beeline to you, Satoru’s heart lurches at that weird little part of him that wishes your attentive gaze was on him instead. Strange. 

Sliding into the empty seat beside you, of course he immediately turns on his world-renowned Gojo charm. You’ll be putty in his hands in no time~!

“Any closer to Yaga and you’d be fucking his wife, y’know.” 

“...”

Okay, maybe that didn’t come out as suave as he expected, but damn, not even a giggle?

You couldn’t blame the guy for getting nervous in front of a pretty girl! Nor could you really blame him for plowing on despite that - not after the jolt of electricity that ran through his body the second your irritated eyes met his. 

Oh wow. So that’s what it’s like to have your soul pierced and buried six feet under.

It was sort of addicting.

And if Satoru thought his knees were weak at just a glare from you - well, he was not ready for the way you snapped at him and told him to shut the fuck up. Ah, truly a woman of his dreams. 

Not even half an hour into the lecture and if you asked Satoru to recall a word spoken by Yaga then he wouldn’t have been able to tell you. The words went in one ear and he couldn’t even remember if it went out the next - too focused on getting your attention on him at least once more. 

He just wished you’d look at him - let him see all the shades of your eyes, and the exact degree at which your lip curls in annoyance. What would that smart mouth say to him next? 

“Now, would anyone here be able to discuss the interpretations in the debate between the Copenhagen interpretation and the Pilot-Wave theory?”

Which is why he positively jumped at the chance to show off his academic prowess to you. Only to find…you teetering on the edge of your seat as well? 

Your voice is even, a fiery glint in your eyes. He’s entranced. 

“The Copenhagen Interpretation uses Heisenberg's uncertainty principle and emphasizes measurement to state that quantum-level particles can act as both waves and particles. It’s the most widely accepted and pragmatic theory.”

Oh. This was going to be interesting.

Heart banging against his ribcage, voice slightly shaky, “Not to be the devil’s advocate but the Pilot-Wave theory makes way more sense practically.”

Thus, Gojo Satoru, in his failed attempts to flirt, starts a rivalry with you that shakes the entire physics department - and his heart. 

He was sure if he told Shoko and Suguru the real reason why he was suddenly spending hours poring over his physics textbooks then they’d definitely laugh their asses off - after giving him a good smack for being so ridiculous. 

It’s not that he didn’t like being on the receiving ends of your snarky remarks and death stares - but it’s just that he also wishes you’d kiss him silly while you do it. God, for someone voted campus hottie three times in a row, why was it so hard to just ask you out?

Which is why, seeing you being dragged into their little circle at that off-brand frat party, he thinks - ah, this might just be fate. 

Silently thanking Shoko for her accidental wingmanning, Satoru watches in amusement as you reluctantly scribble your name on that crumpled piece of paper. And if he slipped in a couple extra with his name on it, well, he was only glad you were too busy cursing his entire bloodline out to catch him.

The smell of cheap beer filling his senses, strobe lights matching the banging of his heart against his chest. Even if he did cheat at the game a little, Satoru didn’t think he’d end the night with your soaked panties burning a hole in his pocket - and the whisper of your lips on his searing even more. He was dazed. 

Was that…a dream? 

It must be, right? There’s no way the gorgeous student prez who hates his guts would suddenly be in the same proximity as him - let alone let him tonguefuck you into insanity. 

You tasted so sweet.

Yeah, must’ve been some hallucination. 

Months later, your soft grumbles in his ear, and your hand warm in his, swinging playfully between you two in the buzzing aquarium - a part of Satoru still thinks he’s hallucinating.

“Slow down, Satoru! The fish aren’t going anywhere.” you huff as he flits excitedly from tank to tank, eyes sparkling like a kid in a candy store. Yet, you couldn't help the beginnings of a smile curling at the corners of your lips at his childlike excitement.

“Can’t! I couldn’t show you this last time, even a hardass like you’d love it.” 

Whatever retort on the tip of your tongue is cut off by the breathtaking sight before you.

A grandiose tank - a kaleidoscope of an underwater world that stretched beyond your field of vision. Hues of blues and greens glimmering before you. Marine life you wouldn’t be able to name - no matter how many hours of watching NatGeo - in an ethereal dance across the water.

“Last time we were here we talked about multiverses. I know now, I hope that in every universe, we’ll be here together. Standing side by side, watching the deep blue and arguing about physics.”

Eyes widening at the beauty - and his words - you turn to Satoru, only to see his piercing gaze already on you. Satisfied grin bathed in a soft blue light from the tank, his twinkling eyes reflecting you and the lights and you. It was beautiful. He was beautiful.

“See? Didn’t I tell you you’d love it? I’m always so great at these thi-”

You shut up that big mouth - with your lips on his. 

Tender and weighty - as if you two had all the time in the world. And, your hands electric under Satoru’s touch, cold metal of the infinity sign searing into your ring finger - you think you probably do. Because Satoru’s tastes like candied apples and everything you could ever want. A promise.

“T-told you I was irresistible.” 

Confident words, muffled by your lips. You pull away with a disbelieving huff of laughter, and you’re glad you did - because you catch a glimpse of the nervous twinkle in his eyes and the flushed cheeks betraying him.

“You wish.” you chuckle, brushing your fingers over his cloudy white locks. That familiar, easy grin tugs on the corners of your heart, and for a moment - just this moment - it feels like just the two of you in this bustling aquarium. In this uncertain world.

“Sure do.” he whispers, as if a secret - meant for just the two of you. 

“Now, my prez, wanna go to our little booth at the café and debate the Copenhagen interpretation and the Pilot-Wave theory?”

A/N. Can you tell the title was inspired by Go For It, Nakamura?

Also so sorry for posting only sporadically this week, for some reason my posts refuse to show up under any tags and as a creator that’s really discouraging. But here’s to next week being better hopefully!

Plagiarism not authorized. 

Taglist:

@bbyxxm @maskedpacific @mrs--imperfect @dunixxd @scarammouch

[jaylver]

WEBS OF HURT — S.JY

synopsis: Falling for your best friend wasn't on your check list for high school. As if that wasn't enough to break your heart, his odd behaviour only added fuel to the fire along with a new crush of his. Who knew that odd behaviour would soon turn into a secret truth that you'd discover after his valiant effort of hiding.

pairings: spiderman!jake x afab!reader

genre: best friends to lovers, unrequited love, miscommunications, spiderman au, angst, romance, fluff

warning(s): profanities, mentions of alcohol, party, violence, injury

wc: 10k

a/n: tried something new! a little birthday gift from me <3 please leave a feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated! muah xx

masterlist | © jaylver all rights reserved.

Falling in love with your guy best friend was probably the worst thing ever to experience when it came to girlhood.

High school should be fun, right? Being a teenager should be fun, right? Well, that wasn't exactly the case when you found yourself feeling more than just a mere liking towards Jake Sim, the guy best friend you mentioned and was entirely, love sickeningly, in love with. 

Jake Sim was the first guy you actually built a solid friendship with. It first started when he sat beside you in calculus, then you realised you had more classes with him and a friendship eventually developed when you started acknowledging each other. One class together soon turned into years spent with one another. You knew his family and he knew yours. Nothing could ever break the bond between you and him.

You just couldn't help but notice a slight change in him after the death of his uncle, Ben. At first, you figured it might've been grief, trying your best to offer your utmost support. But as months flew by, the oddness persisted. He would disappear in between classes, sometimes standing you up at places you were at together and returning a little scathed, making it up to you by promising for a redo hang out. All of that was weird. Let's not get started on the fact he caught your stuff falling way too many times, even when his head was faced away, his hand would reach out first. In his words, he called it his 'spidey sense', whatever that meant.

However, you never doubted him. He was still the best friend you had, even if he had some tweaks to him. You never once questioned him or brought up your suspicions, but this time, you couldn't help yourself from bombarding him with questions when he broke the news to you.

"I think I have a crush," Jake announced the moment he was in your presence, sounding a little out of breath considering he made a run to the cafeteria. The tray of food was untouched, quite unlike him since he always dug into his food first.

"You 'think'?" You hummed, ignoring the mixed feelings you had blaring loudly. 

"Okay, I know I have a crush," he has yet to start eating, just staring expectantly at you, eyebrows furrowed at the nonchalant and dismissiveness in your tone. 

"You're being for real?" You finally turned your head to meet his eyes, placing your fork down. 

"I am! I think it's kinda crazy," his eyes twinkled, something quite rare but only you knew, like a comet in the sky. 

"Who is it?"

"Gwen,"

"Gwen? Gwen Stacy?" You swallowed back a frown that was itching to make its way to your lips, masking it with your best shot of shock instead of disappointment. Of course it was the golden girl, what a cliche plot.

He nodded, a small smile rested on his face as he started digging into his food. "We … talked? Talked about some science things, about Oscorp, about the things she's working on. Oh yeah, she said there's this party on Saturday and wondered if I wanted to go, I said I wanted to bring a friend and she's cool with it,"

"I assume I'm that friend, then?" You poked at your food, suddenly losing your appetite as the conversation progressed.

"No, it's Carlos—of course it's you, dumbass," he flicked at your forehead, earning a firm scowl from you. "You're my best friend, my only ever, I'd be insane to think otherwise,"

You chewed at your lips, not because you were contemplating whether you should or shouldn't go, but it was mainly due to the word 'best friend' that got your attention. There goes your hope down the drain. First, being told your best friend who you have a crush on already has his eyes on someone else, then, getting friendzoned by that same exact guy, all in one shot. It's brutal out here.

"So what do you say?" Jake's voice broke the momentary silence, noticing your dazed expression. You snapped out of it almost immediately.

"I'll go,"

"Really?"

"Do you want me to say no instead …?" You raised an eyebrow, watching him scrambling at your words.

"N–no! I'm just shocked and very glad you agreed to come," he managed a laugh, which turned into a smile. 

"Am I going to get ditched that night because you want to get your dick wet?"

Jake scrunched his face up in a look of disgust. "Can you not? I don't need you to say that. And no, I'm not going to ditch you,"

"I'm holding you to it."

Jake shot you a wink, earning a figuratively loud eye roll from you. His laughter filled your ears, and though you managed a smile, you found yourself feeling the opposite internally. You knew you shouldn't feel this way, it's not like you were even in a relationship with him in the first place. But God, why did it hurt so bad?

Who told you friends to lovers was cool when it was unrequited and one sided all along.

"You know, you look good either way,"

Jake Sim was sitting on the edge of your bed watching you put on makeup and getting ready. It was a few hours before the party and Jake had turned up looking nervous, wearing that lucky graphic tee of his that you recognised quickly. Your teasing definitely didn't make him smile, and you soon realised that the crush he had was actually serious.

You glanced at him, raising an eyebrow despite feeling the giddiness from the effects of his nonchalant words. He has to stop that. "Are you trying to butter me up to get me to move quicker?"

"Whaaat? No way. You genuinely look good whether or not you have makeup on, seriously," he was genuine, you could tell, but you knew him better than anything. It was quite a fatal flaw.

"Give me ten minutes to finish the other eye then we can leave."

At that, Jake sighed in relief and fell back onto your bed, kicking his legs patiently. He couldn't stop talking about the party and the people who'd be there, but honestly, you could tell he was just trying to not bring up Gwen at any given moment. Knowing that, you wished the mascara wand would just poke into your eye, maybe it'd hurt less compared to how your heart felt.

"Does my shirt look lame—"

"Dude, shut up," just before you and Jake entered the house, he was asking for another reassurance. First, it was his hair, then his shoes, and every other piece of clothing, leaving his shirt for last. It took everything in you to not punch him along the way there. "I swear, no one will care. If anything, isn't that your lucky shirt?"

"It is my lucky shirt. But whether or not that lucky shirt looks good, that's the case," he glanced down at his graphic shirt, a picture of a rock band from the 2000s staring back at him.

"Trust me, if it's ugly, I would've asked you to change, now shut up and get your ass in there before I leave you here," you huffed and continued walking, hearing him mutter something before catching up with you. 

Upon entering the house, you figured it was as underwhelming as you expected. The smell of sweat and flavoured smoke filled the air, high school students lingered around as the music blasted. You should've probably stayed home.

"So, you got your pick up lines ready?" You thrusted a cup of fruit punch into his hands, tilting your head in question. 

Jake rolled his eyes. "I'm afraid Google has failed me on that one," he looked around the room, shoulders tense.

"Calm down, big guy. You're acting like you're being hunted down. She's not that scary," you patted his shoulders as he took a swig out of his cup.

"Not scary? Says the one without a crush,"

How ironic.

You brushed it off, finding yourself taking a big gulp as well. He was oblivious and you were just stupid. Stupidly in love with your best friend who has his eyes set on another girl. Perfect.

"I think I see her," you followed his line of sight, spotting a blonde in the midst of the crowd almost immediately. She made her way through, parting the mass with a certain grace to her aura. 

Jake looked back at you, a mix of conflict written in his features. You read him well, too well. You offered a smile. "Go, go talk to her. Just text me when you're leaving, okay? You said you're not going to ditch me,"

"I won't," he laughed, but there was a certainty in his tone. 

"Then go, what are you waiting for? I'm expecting a whole loads of information by the end of the night," you gave him a slight push, but you could see the small reluctance he had. "Go!" Off he went into the crowds and gravitated towards her. 

You couldn't bear to witness it all, watching him leaning down as she laughed into his ear. The feeling of bitter jealously coursed through your veins, it was evil, so evil, but you couldn't help it. At the end, you had to remind yourself, he wasn't yours in the first place. He wasn't yours to lose.

Turning your back to them, you sat alone in a stranger's kitchen and fought off the temptation of getting drunk. Instead, you indulged in the leftover pizzas left on the counter, letting a random girl join you and overshare secrets. Wallowing in self pity was probably not what you had in store for the night.

Almost as fast as you had arrived, it was already past midnight in a blink of an eye. You realised your curfew was around the corner and it was time to signal Jake to leave too. Glancing at your phone, you were surprised to see zero messages from your best friend. Weird.

You stepped out of the kitchen and into the living room, seeing a bunch of people passed out at the oddest spots, only a few still awake. One of them was surprisingly Gwen, the goody two shoes you had in mind was actually staying up past your curfew. You heaved a distressed yet exasperated sigh, walking towards her. 

"Hey, Gwen," you hoped she remembered you, considering you were in the same Chemistry class as her.

"Oh, hey. Y/N, right?" She flashed you a sweet smile, and it was painful to know how likeable and nice she was. You couldn't even bring yourself to hate her. 

"Right. Sorry for interrupting, but have you seen Jake around? The last time I saw him was with you," you unknowingly chewed on your bottom lip anxiously, taking the frown on her lips as a bad sign.

"He left," that was the least expected thing you anticipated as a response.

"He … left?" You repeated incredulously, almost as if she hadn't made it clear enough for you.

"Yeah, he suddenly said he needed to leave … in the middle of our conversation. An emergency or something. Kinda weird but kinda cute," she laughed, but you were holding back a disdainful scowl, reserved for both Jake and her, but most specifically Jake Sim. "Why? Were you with him?"

You bit back an immediate reply. As much as you wanted to say 'yes', you didn't want to blow off his chance either. "No, just … checking. He said he was coming tonight,"

"Oh, I see," 

"Yeah," you nodded rather stiffly and awkwardly. "I'll get going now, thanks,"

"See ya, Y/N. Until our next class," she gave you a salute, a melodious laugh escaping her lips.

You couldn't resist a smile either, saluting her back. There was a charm to her that affected people, it was understandable that Jake was charmed, but you hated to know that, and you did not want to understand it. For now, he was dead to you, just like how he has left you to yourself in the middle of a party at midnight. Was he Cinderella? Glad to know you weren't the only one who he pulled the disappearing act on. 

Clutching onto your jacket tight, you cursed every cuss words there were under your breath, all of which were dedicated to Jake. He had the audacity to leave without even leaving you a text, and that got you walking home in the dangerous night of New York City. Thanks a fucking lot. To say you were seething was an understatement.

You hated the streets of New York especially at night. To prove your hatred further, you just had to be at threat of an armed robbery there and then. 

"Hey! You there!" A dark figure approached from a distance, pointing at you. Oh God. "Got some money on you?" This couldn't be happening. 

"N–no," you said quietly, backing up quickly. His footsteps thundered loudly against the pavement, seemingly getting closer. 

"Don't lie, I see that purse on you,"

"I'm a broke high school student, leave me alone!" Was it sad to say that you were yelling the brutal truth to him?

"I don't care. Give me your purse—" his threat almost had you running in the opposite direction, but his sentence was never finished. Instead, a sharp unfamiliar noise shot through the silence, and a second figure in the distance appeared. That wasn't his partner, right?

Panic coursed through you, and yelling out was most likely the worst idea you had in ages. "Hello?" 

Silence. 

"Hello? Can I leave now?" 

"Yeah, you can," the figure walked under the lamp post, revealing himself. 

Spiderman? 

Clad in red and a mask over his head, he stepped towards you ever so casually, whereas you stood there absolutely stunned to even move. It wasn't an everyday occurance where you could personally meet the hero in flesh. The media might've painted him as some criminal, but to you and many other citizens, you knew that wasn't the truth.

"Spiderman," you greeted, anxiety lowered knowing you weren't getting robbed now. "Thanks for—that," you waved in the direction of where the man originally was.

"No worries," you noticed his voice seemed familiar, but before you could think more about it, he spoke with a sudden deeper octave. "It's—uh—not safe out here. What are you doing here anyway?"

"Well, for starters, my friend left me at a party that we were supposed to leave together without telling me, and now I'm walking home alone, until I almost got robbed," it was clear that anger and bitterness laced your voice, a deep frown etched on your face as you told Spiderman your concerns.

"Sorry," his voice became lighter, somehow sincere, which made you tilt your head in question. "I–I mean, sorry that he did that to you," he cleared his throat, straightening his spine and returning back to that deep voice. 

"I don't know what's up with him. He could've left me a text," 

He muttered something inaudible under his breath, then turned his focus back on you. "I'm sure he's very sorry, and maybe he's got a reason too. Try hearing him out,"

"I will. I always do. I'm just hurt, it's complicated," 

"What? What do you mean complicated?"

You shrugged, hugging your purse close to your chest. "It's nothing. I don't think Spiderman will be interested in my matters with my best friend. I'll leave you to your hero stuff and head home now. Thanks for saving me and the 20 dollars in my wallet,"

"Well—I—wait," before you could fully turn around and leave, his hand landed on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. "Let me walk you home. It's not safe,"

"Wouldn't it be weird if I turned up at my apartment lobby with Spiderman?" You crossed your arm, making quite a fair point. 

"You're right. What about I give you a swing?"

"What?"

Swinging around New York City was definitely an unforgettable but scary experience. You clung onto Spiderman, screaming like a madwoman as he had his arm wrapped around your waist. The touch was as familiar as his voice, hard to put a finger on but almost feeling like you've known him for years. 

You were about to point out your apartment but he had already beat you to it, not even needing you to tell you which floor or window it was, landing on the fire escape right in front of your bedroom window. That just further proved your familiarity towards him. 

He pulled your window open, signalling you to head in, but you were stuck staring at him, both in shock from the swing and the way he knew your place. 

"How did you—"

"Bye! Goodnight!"

You watched as he avoided your question and shot a web out to swing to some other building, leaving you stunned. How were you going to recover from this?

10/10 experience. Spiderman might just be your casual crush to get away from the thoughts of Jake. 

'BREAKING NEWS: bank robbery in downtown last night caused a chaotic and frantic disturbance, luckily, Spiderman was there to save the day and catch the robbers before anything major happened. Is he really as bad as they make him to be?'

The news of Spiderman saving a bank from a robbery right before your personal near robbery experience had you amused. The videos of him beating up the robbers and using his webs to tie them up were going viral all over the internet, even people in school were talking about it.

You were standing at your locker, digging for some textbooks before class started when Jake Sim himself appeared beside you. His presence was announced before he even spoke, but you didn't bother to spare him a glance.

"Y/N, I'm so so sorry about last night," he was heaving in breaths, as if he had ran across the school to find you, maybe he did.

"Oh, were you?" You clicked your tongue, suddenly finding the random piece of paper in your locker fascinating. 

"I am. Seriously, Y/N. I know I'm an asshole for that, I'm sorry for not texting you earlier and letting you know—"

"Jake, this isn't the first time you bailed on me," you cut him off, slamming your locker door close and turning to face him. The bruise beside his right eye caught your attention, and suddenly, your anger seemed to have sizzled away. "What the hell happened to your eye?"

It has become a common practice by now apparently. Jake disappearing and turning up with some kind of injury. Like always, he just brushed you off. "It's nothing, don't worry. It's not about me, it's about you. I fucked up this time and I know it, I'm sorry. An emergency with Aunt May came up a–and I had to go home early, I was too caught up in the moment to let you know. I'm sorry, really,"

You considered his apology for a moment. He was sincere, you knew that, but there was a certain dishonesty to his explanation. However, you didn't want to press on further either. "I understand. You probably always have a reason, it's just that I hate it when you disappear on me without telling me. I almost got robbed last night!"

It took him almost a few seconds to register, then another few more to compute a reaction. "What? Are you okay?"

"I'm standing here, aren't I? Spiderman saved my ass," 

"Spiderman?"

"Yeah, Spiderman. That guy who swings around New York. He saved me from some guy that was about rob me, because someone over here decided to leave early,"

"I'm sorry, okay? I'm just glad you're alright," 

"Well, thank fuck I am," you crossed your arms, staring pointedly at Jake. 

He dug something out of his backpack, a paper bag of some sort materialized in his hand. "I got you some of your favourite cookies and donuts. As a form of apology,"

You took the bag from him, glancing between him and it. "You can't just buy your way into an apology,"

"You accepted it, you took the bag," 

You rolled your eyes, unable to bite back. "Whatever," you reached in for a cookie and started walking away from your locker, hearing Jake scurrying to join your side.

"So, we're cool?"

You took a brief glance at him, taking a bite out of your cookie. "We are,"

Jake wasn't fully convinced, however. He knew you and your patterns, and he definitely knew which tricks to pull to make it better. "How about I treat you to some Chinese food tonight?"

That piqued your interest, an eyebrow raised at his question. "The one downtown?"

"That one,"

"You sure know how to get on my good side, Sim," you nudged his side, falling into one of his tricks once again. "Too well,"

"I know my ways to get to your heart, don't underestimate me," he said in a lighthearted tone, but God, you wished he would actually find his way into your heart. "Anyway, how was—uh—Spiderman, last night? Excusing your near robbery experience," he winced at the last part, though in reality, the accident hadn't shaken you as much as he had thought.

"He was nice! A little awkward but I kinda get it. He swung me back to my place, which was weird because he knew which window and level it was," you pursed your lips in deep thought, failed to realise the widened eyes from Jake and the panic that filled them.

"M–maybe, it was a wild guess," he said shakily.

"Wild guess? Don't bullshit me, Sim. A smart guy like you would know it's hard to do so," you waved him off, continuing to venture into your theories.

"Maybe he has some kind of sixth sense," he laughed rather stiffly, earning a suspicious narrowed stare from you. 

"Okay, big head, quit acting so weird. Let's just get calculus over with and then stop by that ice cream place after school, what do you say?" 

Jake's shoulders visibly relaxed, a sense of relief overtook his features. What was that about? "Sure. My treat,"

"God, Sim, you have to stop treating me or else I'll fall in love with you," you joked, even as it came out lighthearted, it was filled with a painful truth that you kept as a secret.

"Then fall in love with me."

You froze, almost unblinking. Something so intimate yet controversial had left his lips like it was nothing. It was probably nothing to him, maybe a mere joke even, considering how he let out a small laugh and smiled at your reaction. You tried to pretend it was nothing, but it wasn't nothing, not to you. 

For a second, you wished you weren't already in love with Jake.

Trying to be happy for your best friend shouldn't be hard, but why were you struggling with it so much?

First, you were literally in love with him. Yes, you've come to the conclusion that you 'L' word him, the big 'L'. Seeing him list out the things Gwen likes and hates reminded you of yourself knowing him equally that much too, which only pained you more than it reassured you. Second, he has been hanging out with her more. Not that you were completely friendless and have no one to hang with, but Jake was Jake, he was your best friend, and losing your best friend was the worst thing to happen. 

You didn't lose him, no, but it felt like you had. He barely made time for you, being caught up with Gwen, dates and school work, how could he not manage to squeeze you in there? You've always made time for him no matter what the occasion was, so knowing he didn't do the same for you just had you dying internally. 

It was a quiet evening in New York. The sun had just set and you were walking home from grabbing an early dinner alone. This time around, you were smarter than the previous round. Armed with pepper spray and a pocket knife, you prayed on a shooting star that an unfortunate incident would never ever happen once more. 

You were practically in your own world to even realise or hear footsteps approaching you from behind. By the time you did, your fight or flight mode was activated, almost throwing out a punch, just to freeze upon figuring out who it actually was. Spiderman.

"Walking home alone?" He kept up with your pace as you recovered from a momentary fright.

"Stalking me?" You wondered how he even spotted you in the first place. In the big city of New York, he's coincidentally strolling down the same street as you? As if. "Scared me, you know? Thought it was another round of getting robbed,"

"I'd be there to fight them off if that happens," he said with utmost confidence that it had you laughing a little, shaking your head in disbelief. Why did he remind you of Jake? It's a sign you should stop thinking so much about him.

"Really? I kinda doubt it. Unless you're keeping an eye on me or something, stalker," you teased him, egging him on further. 

"I'm not stalking you," his tone gave away the withering confidence of his. You smiled, feeling his lingering gaze on your face. Maybe it was just your mind that's overthinking, but his mannerisms reminded you too much of your best friend. It was in the way he walked, talked and how he normally did this thing where he walked with you and cast glances at you from time to time. Every little detail that you wished you couldn't list out was a part of the city's hero. 

He cleared his throat, straightening his back, trying to rebuild that confidence he originally carried. "So … how are things between you and your friend?"

"The one that stood me up at the party?"

He choked a little, but regardless, he nodded his head. "Y–yeah,"

You couldn't hold in a sigh from escaping your lips. Just thinking about Jake had you huffing in frustration. Spiderman picked up on it, shifting slightly beside you. "I guess not … good? Haven't seen him much and he hasn't been bothering to hang out with me anymore. I mean, I get he's making moves but why can't he just manage a little time for me? Maybe I'm too selfish but—" he's not mine anyway. You bite your tongue, holding back what you really wanted to say. 

The hero beside you was silent for a bit, as if walking on eggshells and picking the best words to say. "I think he'd come around," he said slowly, "he'd say a couple of sorrys, and you should tell him what's on your mind. Let him know. He'll understand," 

You chewed on your bottom lips, considering the possibilities, but totally also not expecting to get advice from the Spiderman like it was some counselling session. "I know he'll listen. He always does. But I don't want anything to change between us,"

"Nothing will change," he said with a kind of certainty that even you didn't doubt. How did he know? Who was he to judge? You didn't say anything, but just nodded. You knew Jake wasn't the type to argue nor take your words lightly, but you shudder at the thought of a confrontation, not that it was your first with him, but it felt much more emotional this time.

"I hope so. I miss him—oh, my place is around the corner, I can manage myself," you stopped before a turn around the corner, Spiderman following suit. 

Standing before him only increased your curiosity about his identity. Who was he? He was hiding under a mask that shielded his face, but something about him seemed less foreign than expected. 

"O–oh, then I guess I should get away too. Swing around the city and see whose ass to beat," he laughed awkwardly, a hand automatically reaching for the back of his neck, just like something Jake would do too. You shook that thought away. "Goodnight … stranger,"

"It's Y/N," you didn't hesitate to tell him your name, he saved your life, a little information about yourself wouldn't hurt despite him being a total stranger still. "Goodnight, spider boy."

You turned around the corner, leaving the hero standing there, bewildered and helpless. It was hard to ignore the pit in your stomach that carved deeper and deeper. He reminded you too much of your best friend, and strangely, that was probably the reason why you felt gradually attached to him, a stranger that resembled the ghost of a guy you liked but couldn't have. 

The space of your apartment was dark and soulless once you stepped into it. Your parents worked late as always, meaning you were alone most of the time, and this was one of them. Maybe it was the atmosphere and the countless wishful thinking, but a sense of despair knocked on the door of your heart. 

By the end of the night, you laid awake in bed thinking about what Spiderman had said. Nothing will change. That was exactly what you wished for too, that your dynamic with Jake was never to change, but how was that to happen when he's got a girl around? Eventually, you're not just going to lose the guy you loved, but your best friend as a whole.

Your train wreck of thoughts were interrupted the moment you heard a knock on your window. That knock turned into a tune that you knew too well. Sitting up straight in bed, you spotted the figure standing by your window out on the fire escape. Jake. 

At this point, you weren't even going to figure out how he got up this high on the fire escape. It was one too many times of him avoiding your question and you ended up dropping the matter too. Yet, curiosity itched your mind. 

Unamused at the fact that he turned up at possibly the wrong timing, you dragged your legs over to the window, meeting his bashful gaze. He offered a crooked grin, but your narrowed eyes only shot it back into a frown.

"Explain to me why you're here? It's midnight, Aunt May would be worried about you," your window was opened now, but you stood in the way before he could climb through, an interrogative look of yours stared at him accusingly.

"I told her I'd be over at yours," he answered cheekily. "Just like the old times, eh?"

Judging from your unbudging stance and eyes practically shooting lazers, Jake knew he had struck a nerve that have been left untreated for far too long. He sighed a defeated breath, squeezing through forcefully and dropping his backpack onto the ground. 

"I know," he didn't need to say much, yet he conveyed more than needed. "I've been a shitty best friend,"

It was your turn to sigh. You shook your head, averted your gaze to the ground and stepped aside, giving him more space. "You know a 'sorry' alone won't cut it this time,"

He followed your every movement, joining you to sit on the edge of your bed, a small space in between separated you and him. "I know. But I really am sorry, Y/N. I mean it,"

"I just want you to be honest with me, Jake. I know you're busy, I know you're trying to get the girl of your dreams or whatever, good for you, but it feels like you've forgotten about me or something,"

"I didn't forget about you. How could I ever?"

"Well, then stop acting like it! A text would suffice," you stood up, back facing him just so you could hide your face from him and the tears welling up in your eyes. 

"Y/N," he grabbed a hold of your wrist, cold fingers wrapped around your skin, his touch ever so gentle. "I'm sorry. I know I fucked up … many times, and a single 'sorry' wouldn't make up all the hurt I caused you, b–but there's a reason why,"

"What is it then?" You whirled around to face him, the dark of the room casted a shadow over his face, bringing out the fatigue and injury on his delicate features. "What the fuck, Jake? Are you hurt again?"

"It's nothing,"

"You said it's nothing every time you turned up hurt, and I never ask many questions, but Jake, it feels like you're hiding something from me," your hand reached up for his face, hovering over the bruises and mild cuts on his lips and skin. "I don't know you anymore,"

Jake moved his face away a little, grabbing that hand of yours which hovered over his face, lacing his fingers into yours, the rough surface of skin contrasting your soft touch. "I–I wish I could tell you what it is right now, Y/N, I really do, but it's not the right time. I need you to trust me, I need you to believe me, I don't want to hurt you,"

There was a moment of silence where you stood before him, hands intertwined with his, your hurtful gaze scanning his every feature that you knew too well. Jake never lied to you, you knew that, but why couldn't you fully trust him this time? There was a sense of truth and lie hidden behind his words, but you knew one thing, he was genuine. Yet, it wasn't enough. 

"Let me make it up to you. There's this carnival in the city tomorrow night, you and I, hang out, what do you say?" He tried offering a smile, which eventually turned uncertain. "We can spend the entire day together. Just you and me,"

"No bailing on me this time?"

"Promise,"

"You do?"

He held up your interlocked hands, then intertwined your's and his pinky fingers together, something you and him always did when it came to serious promises despite the childishness to the whole pinky promises thing. "Promise," he repeated. 

"I believe you, Jake. I always do, and I just don't want you to get yourself in danger, whatever it is that you're doing. Whenever you turn up bruised and beaten, I–I just feel helpless, and you push me away every time,"

"I'm sorry," he whispered, taking your interlocked hands and placing them on his chest, near to where his heart resided. "I promise to tell you the truth soon. I just need to be ready,"

"When you're ready," you gave his hand an affirming squeeze, a reassuring smile creeping up onto your lips. "Do you want to stay over?"

"I didn't turn up with a packed bag for nothing," he laughed, the air lightening up much more compared to earlier. "I'll sleep on the ground like always,"

Once you were done manoeuvring and setting up the sleeping bag for Jake, you were finally in bed for the second time that night, except now, you had Jake sleeping on the ground beside your bed. It wasn't a rare occasion having him sleep over, just maybe this time it was a tad bit more awkward given the situation you had earlier. 

"Jake," you spoke into the darkness, your eyes trained on that one spot on your ceiling. 

He hummed back in response. 

"Nothing has changed between us, right?"

A beat of silence, the whirring of your A/C was what remained. Then, he spoke. "No. Nothing's ever going to change. Nothing will change," 

It sounded familiar, the way he said it and the enunciation he had in every word. You shook it off, given the late night and a mushy brain, you didn't give it a second thought. 

"I'm glad. Goodnight, Jake."

"Goodnight."

Despite the reassurance from Jake, you descended into sleep with a pit in your gut. You could barely sleep with him next to you, thinking you could find a cure to every trouble that existed between you and him to fix it all. How could he say there'd be no changes when there's a bigger crack forming on your heart?

The next morning was like any other whenever Jake stayed over. An empty kitchen that allowed you to make some simple breakfast and after, you bid Jake goodbye for the moment before meeting him later on that day. 

Upon stepping into your room, you spotted a black lump sitting under the window. It was Jake's backpack. He was already long gone from your apartment by then. 

You advanced towards his backpack, held it up to move it somewhere else, but it only caused the contents inside to spill out. Knowing how clumsy Jake always was, you figured his backpack had been unzipped the entire time.

You glanced at the pile of mess littered on your floor, a clump of red catching your eyes amongst the rest. Curiosity got the best of you despite knowing you shouldn't pry, but the moment your fingers made contact with it, the question marks in your head increased by tenfold.

Spandex material. You pinched it at first, feeling the material against your skin, then you finally got the guts to hold it up entirely, revealing something far beyond expectations. 

Spiderman suit?

Was it a fake one? Jake could've always bought it from Amazon. You held it closer for inspection, noticing how it was worn out, slight tears on the bottoms. It couldn't be a fake, something in you knew. The dried blood stains on some spots gave it away. 

Everything made sense to you now. Jake being secretive, hiding the truth from you every time you asked, turning up hurt and disappearing at random times just for the news to report Spiderman's appearance after. All of them were finally connected in your head, and revelations about his suspiciousness were known by you.

It hit you. Jake was spiderman. Your best friend was that vigilante swinging around the city saving people and fighting crimes. He was the one who walked and swung you home. He always knew.

You let out a breath of disbelief, knees feeling weak and head spinning. How were you to shoulder the truth after this? Pretend like nothing's wrong when everything is wrong and weird. It was practically impossible to patch up the existing crack that continued to worsen. 

Shoving Jake's belongings back into the bag, you shouldered it and made your way to his place. Your mind was in a haze, the thought of him being Spiderman was hard to wrap around. Sometimes ignorance was genuinely bliss, you wished this was one of those times. 

You didn't know if it was a good or bad thing that Jake wasn't home when you turned up at his door, meeting a confused looking Aunt May instead. Apparently, Jake went out in search of his backpack that was currently in your hands, so you had no choice but to call him and wait for him to be back. 

How could you not have spotted it sooner? Now that you're in his bedroom for possibly the millionth time, everything seems clearer. The map of the city stuck on his wall which had random scribbles and locations circled in red marker ink stood out to you, the box of medicine and ointments sat on his bedside table that you frequently ignored. All the signs were presented before your eyes without your knowledge.

"Hey, sorry for keeping you waiting," Jake closed his bedroom door after almost half an hour of waiting for his appearance. His hair was dishevelled, clearly panicked and alarmed. 

"No, it's okay, we're supposed to meet up anyway," you sat up from lying on his bed, nodding at the backpack sitting on his desk. "Got your baby back,"

"Oh my God," he crossed the room with big steps and had zero hesitation when it came to unzipping it to check his belongings. "Did I leave it at your place?"

"You did," 

"Thought I left it out there somewhere," he murmured under his breath, then zipped the bag up. You knew why he was so secretive, and it made even more sense why he always brought it around. 

Jake most likely felt your wandering eyes on him judging from the way he spun around and shielded his bag from view, trying to divert your attention away. "Want to watch a movie?"

How could you possibly say no? That sly prick.

You didn't indulge in his suspicious behaviour further now that you were aware of his secret, though you pretended not to. He did say he would reveal it to you soon, but that 'soon' was quite unknown. At this point, you didn't know who was going to be the first one to reveal it. Either you or him.

You spent half of the day binging on movies, ate an early dinner and then walked to the carnival together. Along the way there, you couldn't stop yourself from taking quick glances at Jake. The street lights illuminated his features under the darkening sky, the loud chatter of the crowd drowned out and it was only him in your world. Even as he asked you questions, you blindly nodded to most of them. 

How could you not fall for him? He bought you drinks without question, won you prizes at those booths, held your hand as you walked through the crowds. It was as if Jake Sim himself was blind enough to not know what he was doing to you. 

"Enjoying the night?" Jake threw his arm around your shoulder ever so casually that it had you holding your breath for a minute.

"You won me a big bear, of course I am," you held onto the stuffed toy tightly, grinning at the memory of Jake winning during his first try. 

"What's next? Wanna stop by that art and craft booth then we go on the ferris wheel?" Jake definitely did know his way into your heart.

"Sounds good," 

You thought the night would eventually end with peace and quiet, but before it could even end, it had been ruined beyond belief. 

The big screen suddenly flashed to a news reporter, the background looking chaotic and people were fleeing. It was live news, the whole thing was happening as you breathed. You and Jake stood rooted, staring at the big screen just like many others did, listening in on the broadcast.

'Just in, a monstrous creature was seen terrorizing and climbing along the Oscorp building. It was spotted not long ago, but now it has disappeared into the building, its whereabouts unknown. Workers of Oscorp have fled the building, but not all of them, some were said to be present in the building until now.'

You glanced at Jake, a sinking feeling in your gut. It was a sour thought knowing he's about to get himself in danger yet again, but having him bailing once more cut deeper than a falling knife. As a human, you wanted him to save lives and the city. However, you were also his best friend, and you hated to be selfish, but you just wanted him to be there without having to leave every single moment.

The conflict in your eyes matched Jake's, who was evidently struggling with himself. You tried to mask it, yet hurt and sadness was hard to ignore or hide. 

"Oscorp … Gwen," the faint hush of a murmur was audible under his breath, causing you to cock your head at him.

"What?" 

"I–I, Y/N, I have an emergency," he removed his arm around you, the hold on his backpack strap tightened. 

"Jake," to scream at him? Let him leave? All of the above? You struggled with your emotions as you tried to understand and empathise, you always did, but couldn't you just have him this one time?

"I'm sorry …" his voice was weak, he knew how much pain and hurt he caused you, and retreating away from your disappointed face wasn't going to solve anything, just the problem downtown, but not the cracks that were forming right now.

"I know, Jake," you shouted when he was a distance away from you. He turned around, eyes widened and pupils blown, a mix of confusion and surprise painted his features. "I know about you,"

He was breathless, he didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything. He left without a trace, and once again, you were left alone to fend for yourself. You wanted to understand, you do, but it was hard. 

You glanced at the big screen for one last time, uttering a silent curse under your breath, and decided to head to where the scene was. Crazy? Stupid? You were everything described. That was probably why you and Jake were best friends. 

Taking the cab was one of the stupidest decisions you made, and that excluded the part where you're literally bringing yourself to danger. Thanks to whatever that was terrorising the Oscorp building, the traffic was heavier than usual, so you had no choice but to run on foot. It was the most running you ever did all year.

You wondered if it was a good idea to even be there. Answer: no. The police cars were everywhere, all of which were stationed with police that were armed with rifles. A helicopter circled the building, several broadcasting stations and their reporters were present too. It was a mess. 

"What's happening here?" You were practically out of breath, panting, as you asked a random bystander there. 

"Some freakish lizard creature. I think Spiderman swung into the building to save the remaining victims. They were all rescued but Spiderman's still fighting in there,"

"You saw him? Spiderman?"

"I did! Red suit, white webs, he was so heroic when he crashed through the glass panels," 

"That's the one," you said unnervingly, disliking the uncertainty of it all. Jake was putting himself in danger and you could do nothing about it. How long did this go on for? You were left in the dark for far too long.

Soon, which almost felt like forever, you saw a speck of red escaping from the gap in the building with somebody in hand. You held your breath out of anxiety, heart thumping, listening in on all the noises and reports coming from everywhere around you.

"There he is! Spiderman!" A reporter appeared next to you, absolutely transfixed with the superhero slinging through the dark sky and eventually landing in the distance. "He has the last hostage in hand! A girl!" 

A girl?

You pushed past the crowd, trying to get a closer look at Spiderman and the entire scene before you. There he was, speaking to the police, but there was somebody else too. Gwen Stacy. 

An overwhelming feeling crashed down on you like a heavy weight of boulders falling from the sky. Confusion, hurt, heartbreak, altogether they penetrated you harder than you could manage to breathe. One step, two step, you took many steps back before turning away and hailing for a cab home. 

He wasn't yours, and he wasn't yours to lose either.

Returning home to an empty apartment was nothing new, except it did hit differently this time. Your heart was empty, mind in a haze, it was as if your narrator had drawn swirls over your head. You wished things had turned out in another way. You and Jake, how you found out about his secret, him hiding his secret. If only all of them had another ending than what you had in the present.

You sat slumped over in bed, the desk lamp was the only thing that provided light for the darkness in your room. The shadow looming over your window went unnoticed by you. That was until a series of knocks sounded and you jumped out of bed in alert, finding it strange how there was nothing once your eyes trained on your window.

Well, there goes your future. 

You stepped a little closer. Just then, the window was jerked open by some unseen force, a red cladded face peeking his head into frame. Spiderman, or more accurately, Jake, was standing on your fire escape again. 

He dropped his backpack onto your bedroom floor, letting himself in wordlessly. You stared at him, not knowing whether to speak first or let him be the one to do it. After all, he had left you hanging, it's the least he could do.

Jake pulled off the mask from his head, revealing a rather beat up face and messy, dishevelled hair that was coated with sweat. "You knew?"

His voice was tired, but the confusion and hurt punctuated through his words. He inched close to you, but you took a step back, unable to meet his gaze.

"Well, it wasn't a long time," you muttered. "Just today, actually … coincidentally,"

"How?" 

"Your backpack. I swear I didn't look through it, it was unzipped and when I picked it up, everything spilled out. Your suit revealed it all," you chewed at your bottom lip, Jake's eyes boring into yours, the prickling feeling of anxiety crawled all over your skin. "I didn't want to find out this way either,"

"I'm sorry for not telling you earlier. I wanted to, trust me, you're one of the closest people I have in my life. But I just didn't know when or how to break it to you. I wanted to protect you, to keep you safe," he was equally guilty for hiding it for a long time, but you understood the reason behind it. Being a hero comes with a great responsibility, that was what movies taught you anyway. 

"Jake, I know, and it's okay, but I just wish to be selfish for a little. I want you to be here with me, to be there for me a–and be my best friend for a minute," you felt yourself losing the will to speak as seconds passed by. "I feel like I'm losing you,"

"You're not. I'm here," he pressed his palm against his heart, stepping closer until he was barely a few inches away. "Always,"

"I don't want to lose you, Jake," your voice wavered, a clear sheen of tears glazed your eyes. "I'm in love with you," your words came out in a whisper, a hushed confession that spilled with no warning, coming from the deepest, darkest pits of your heart. Even then, you couldn't believe you had actually said it, stilling in place and blinking in shock. 

Jake's breath hitched, his movements frozen. You wondered about the possible scenarios you were about to face, ones that you thought of whenever you had the urge to spill your love confession.  All of them certainly didn't prepare you for what was happening next.

"I'm sorry," shock turned into instant panic. Your hands shot out to create a small distance between you and him. "Ignore what I just said. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable—"

Jake didn't say much, and in a swift motion, he grabbed a hold of your hand, pulled you into him. One hand holding your wrist, the other cupping your face to tilt your head and his lips met yours.

You could barely register it. The weight of his mouth against yours created a mass of fireworks in both your head and stomach. The shock evaporated from your body and relief took its spot. You melted against his touch, leaning your body closer to his. 

Jake kissed you like no man could have ever done. He left a part of himself, imprinted his every unspoken word into a deep and passionate kiss. You wondered if this was what it felt like being loved by him.

Forever was what you wished for when it came to kissing him. Yet, it eventually came to an end just like every one of your favourite movies. This time, however, you weren't disappointed, you were glad. 

"Don't apologise. Y/N, I'm in love with you too," his hand on your cheek remained, the dim light managed to bring out the sparks in his pupils. It was your turn to be confused. Didn't he have a crush?  "I know what you're thinking. Gwen—" it's freaky how he always knew, "—I was kinda dumb, to be honest. I was always in love with you but it took me years and a girl to only realise that,

"She was nothing like you. The more I got to know her, the more I thought of you. I wasn't trying to like her, I was trying to find a piece of you in her. Being the coward that I am, I ran away from facing the thought of liking you, I didn't want to ruin our friendship. So, I kept on entertaining the thoughts of liking Gwen instead, but none of it was real. You're the one who's constantly taking up space in my mind, in my heart,"

The fireworks from earlier exploded ten folds in your mind. You couldn't believe you were experiencing every passing moment listening to Jake's confession. He felt the same way as you did for him. He has had the same pining for you like the same way you had for him. Years, years of unspoken romantic love for one another that both were too scared to touch upon. 

Jake took your shell shocked silence as an opportunity to continue on. "I'm sorry for standing you up all the time. I'm sorry for hiding the truth from you. I'm sorry for avoiding you. I'm sorry for not realising it sooner. But I love you, Y/N. You're my best friend, more than anything, you're the only person I want to have occupying my mind all the Goddamn time,"

"Jake," your hand travelled to place itself onto his which rested on your face. "I love you too," you laced your hand into his, the intimacy that would've been seen platonic days ago was now something more than that. You and him both felt the shift, it was apparent. 

"I don't care that you're Spiderman," you continued, not once breaking eye contact with him, letting him stare into yours as you did the same. "You're Jake to me, you forever will be, and that's all that matters,"

Jake's delicate features melted into a smile. His pretty smile that had you swooning was on display like a trophy, influencing you enough to crack a small grin too. He looped an arm around your waist, dipping you slightly and pressing a haste kiss on your lips, then your cheeks. 

"I guess I can now say I've swung into your heart," he teasingly sent a wink flying at you, to which you responded with an eye roll. Some things never changed, but his ego definitely was inflated now.

"Shut up before I kick you out," you threw a light punch at his shoulder, which he dodged almost unsuccessfully. "Come on, let's patch you up then we can go to bed," you patted his shoulder, walking towards your bathroom. 

"Demanding," he whistled under his breath, picking up his discarded mask from the floor. 

"Don't make me add a black eye to your face,"

"But you like my pretty face,"

"You want to test it out?"

"Okay, okay. I'm coming."

The night eventually ended with Jake being patched up and sleeping on your bed instead of his usual spot on the ground. These little changes was what you anticipated most, but other than that, it was safe to say nothing would be changing when it came to your and Jake's relationship. If anything, it was about to be stronger. 

So what if he was Spiderman? At least you knew Spiderman was yours, and he had indeed swung into your heart.

Dating your best friend who had a secret identity was fun. 

You got to discuss maths in school and listen to his adventures after. Not to mention, he would swing you around New York City at times once the clock striked past midnight. No other girl was going to get a date like this. Ten out of ten, you may add. 

With the fun came the terror. You do fear for Jake's safety almost every time he's out, and it has become a routine to patch him up till the point where you had to restock your emergency kit. This time was like no other when Jake appeared through the window soundlessly in his Spiderman suit.

"Hey," he was breathless, tumbling over the window still. 

You jumped, not even realising his appearance. "What the hell? Jake? Oh my God," you got up right away to support his tired body, but he ended up sliding down onto the ground anyway.

"Are you injured anywhere? Bleeding?" You checked for his body, trying to spot any obvious cuts, making yourself comfortable in the space between his legs. 

"No," his hand reached for the end of his mask, pulling it up halfway only to reveal his lips. "Can I get a kiss?"

"Are you serious?"

"I am dead serious," 

You rolled your eyes, leaning down to press a kiss on his lips that eventually widened into a satisfied smile. You gently slapped his face, eliciting a sweet laugh from him and with a tug of his hand, he fully removed the mask from his head, revealing his pretty face that you missed.

"I got something for you," his hand reached out to brush your hair away from your face, his touch ever so gentle when it came to you. He dug something out of his bag, pulling out a fresh bouquet of flowers. "Ta-da," 

"Flowers?" You accepted the bouquet from him, noticing all of your favourite flowers in it. He remembered, even the littlest details about you, he remembered them all.

"I got them on the way here," you raised an eyebrow at him. He threw his hands up in defence. "Hey, I didn't steal them. I actually paid for them. They gave me a discount too because I was in my suit,"

You resisted a smile. "You're unbelievable,"

"Unbelievably cute? Romantic? Handsome?" He leaned in closer to you, noses close enough to brush against one another. 

"Go away," you squeezed his cheek, and he just let you do so without any fight. You threw your arms around his neck, hugging him briefly. "I like them,"

"What about me?"

"I like you too,"

 "But I like you more," 

You threw your head back laughing, a simple sound which was enough to have Jake's heart racing. "We're not making this into a competition, stupid. Now, go shower or else you're not sleeping on my bed,"

"But—"

"Nope. Shower or get exiled,"

"Fine," he dragged his body up sluggishly, looking almost like a puppy being forced to his dismay: the shower. "You're not joining me?"

"Don't make me chase you out." you threw a pillow at him that he skillfully dodged. Damn his spider senses. His laughter echoed around your bedroom until he disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of it gave comfort to you and your beating heart.

Things might've changed a little in different aspects, but you knew nothing could change you or Jake altogether. He was your best friend and lover no matter what he was. Spiderman or loverboy, he was everything to you. All you knew was that he was going to be by your side no matter what, protecting your heart alongside the city. 

( © jaylver all rights reserved. do NOT copy, plagiarise or edit my work and repost whatsoever. once discovered will be exposed and blacklisted. )

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[daemour]

I Can See You

Pairing: single dad! Seonghwa x babysitter! f! yn

Word Count: 10,137

Warnings: cursing, alcohol consumption, a creepy old man in one scene, age gap (10 years but both are adults (and not just barely)), smut warnings under cut

Genre: Angst, fluff, smut, single parent au, M for mature audiences

Summary: When you took a job babysitting a young toddler, you didn't expect to be so drawn to the family. And more specifically, her frustratingly hot and single dad.

Smut Warnings: masturbation, sexual fantasies, riding, slight (if you squint) corruption kink, sliGHT breeding kink, unprotected sex (DONT DO THIS unless you discuss safely outside of sex!), breast play, overstimulation, undiscussed kinks (yn is fine with it. but discuss your fucking kinks guys *gun emoji*), slight cumplay

thank u to @pyeonghongrie and @mingsolo for beta'ing and for the title hehe <3 this is also a collab with @potatomountain who is also writing a dilf hwa, we're just on two sides of the spectrum lol...and this is so damn long

-

“Hello, I’m here for a babysitter interview with a Mr Park?”

“That would be me. Miss (Y/N)?”

When you answered the ad in the newspaper about babysitting, you were so ready to see an older man, around his fifties. But this man looked so young, around his late twenties although you’re sure he’s probably forty. And you’re not one to judge—nearing your mid-twenties one wouldn’t be expecting you to still babysit as a full-time job. But it pays the bills and helps you get some hands-on experience in your degree, child development.

“Ah, yes. That’s me,” your words spill out as you realise he is awaiting an answer. Mentally, you berate yourself for the immediate blunder while Mr Park’s eyes crinkle with amusement.

“Come on in and make yourself comfy on the couch. I’ll be right there. Would you like anything to drink?” Mr Park’s voice is smooth like butter and you have a hard time making sure you don’t get lost in it.

Again, you nod, actual wordy responses jumbled in your brain, walking to the couch and sitting down almost mechanically. If you were mentally present, you would have noticed the smile the older man sends your way.

He doesn’t take too long, returning with two glasses of water. “You didn’t say what you wanted to drink so I just got you water. Is that okay?”

Thankfully, you finally can respond coherently and smile, albeit a little shakily. “Yes, thank you so much.”

You take the glass with both hands, thanking him again quietly and taking a small sip before just holding it as you wait for him to be seated. You’ve felt awkward before, but this is a new extreme. Normally you pride yourself on keeping your cool in front of someone you think is hot, but Mr Park…he’s something else. You try your best to keep your eyes trained on the coffee table, only letting yourself glance at him occasionally so he doesn’t realise just how in awe you are.

“Jihee will be home from school soon, so you’ll see her soon. For now it’ll just be old me and my questions,” Mr Park starts his interview as soon as he sits on the couch across from you. “Now, I saw in your application that your major was in child development? Can I ask why that interested you?”

You blink at him for a moment, not expecting that question. Sure, bringing it up was expected, but the way he sounds like he’s interviewing you for a position in a company amuses you. “Uh…I just grew up with a lot of siblings and their kids. I’m the youngest of six, and the oldest is sixteen years older than me so I have a lot of nieces and nephews as well. Children have always been a part of my life, and my first job was babysitting so it’s something I’m very used to. Child development was just a way for me to learn even more and in a less… hands-on way. Poopy diapers are not my favourite.” You pause. “Not that I can’t change them! Or that Jihee uses them. Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring it up.”

You’re so sure your face is bright red right now as you stumble over your words, and you’re ready to be kicked out, but all Mr Park does instead is laugh at your embarrassment. It’s a little mean but it’s better than your worst conclusion so you’ll take it. “It’s okay,” Mr Park smiles at you. “It’s okay to ramble, it was actually quite amusing. Now, I’d just like to warn you, Jihee has trouble with working on schoolwork. While that usually isn’t an issue, she may be asking you to help her with her homework and reading and I just thought I’d give you a heads up. Would that cause any trouble?”

“It wouldn’t bother me, and I’ll try my best. I took children’s education in college as well so it’d be a good time for me to exercise that,” you laugh quietly. Your first dream was to be a governess, no matter how few jobs there are for that type of work.

Mr Park nods thoughtfully. “Glad to give you some experience in that,” he hums after careful consideration, a smile on his face. “Her struggles lie in understanding the problems and in English. If she faces any difficulty then I can always help out.”

Before either of you continues speaking, his watch beeps and he glances down. Without another word, he stands and goes to open the front door. “Uh–” Your confusion escapes you before you can stop it.

“Oh, Jihee’s almost home and I always leave the door open for her,” he explains, eyes still trained on his watch. “You’ll get to meet her, and then we can discuss more details. And just to reiterate the ad, this is going to be a job that requires a lot of hours. I, of course, will be paying you for any sort of overtime if I need to stay at the office later. Does your schedule still allow for that?”

You hold back your smile. Your schedule mostly consists of scrolling the internet for job opportunities and eating lunch with your friends. “Yes, I can do that,” you affirm. “I’ll need holidays off, but I assume that’s a given as you’ll also be with Jihee?”

A smile pulls at the corner of Mr Park’s mouth. “Very astute,” he chuckles. “Now, here she comes.”

The door swings open without another word from either of you and a little girl dressed in pink and ribbons barrels into Mr Park’s knees. He lets out a quiet grunt, stabilising himself against the door as his hand strokes at her hair. “Hello, Jihee,” he hums fondly. "How was school today?"

The young girl beams up at her father. "So fun!" she grins, her words slightly slurred in her excitement. "Today, Mrs Lee had us do shapes and my favourite colour is blue now! I have so many blue crayons."

Mr Park's eyebrow raises at the mention of crayons. "Do you have them with you?" he asks, and Jihee nods vigorously. "Can I see them?"

Another nod comes from the child and she immediately plops on the floor, pulling out her pencil case and opening it to reveal at least ten crayons, all of varying sizes. What stands out to you the most is that half of them are green. "See! All blue. But this one's my favourite." She grabs at a particularly long and skinny one, a shade of emerald green.

"Ah. Lovey, remember, your colours are a little different, right?" Mr Park talks in a gentle voice, very different from the very adult voice he used with you. "That's a green crayon."

Jihee's face drops. "Oh." Her bottom lip juts out in a pout.

Mr Park holds out his hand and Jihee drops the crayon into his palm. "You can't take the crayons from school anyway, dear. Why don't we leave these in your bag and you can give them back and apologise to Mrs Lee tomorrow?"

Jihee's pout grows bigger but she nods. "Okay, daddy," she agrees and Mr Park nods proudly.

"Now, do you want to meet your new friend?" You flinch as Mr Park mentions you, sitting up straighter in your chair before ultimately deciding to stand instead.

"Hi, Jihee," you do your best to speak with the same quiet tone Mr Park used. "I'm (Y/N)! It's nice to meet you."

You offer your hand for her to shake and Jihee looks at you, her thinking face almost a spitting image of her father's before she walks over and takes your hand with gusto. "Hi, Mrs (Y/N).”

"Ah, I'm not a Mrs," you correct her. "You can call me (Y/N)."

"Miss (Y/N)," Mr Park quietly interrupts and you nod, not wanting to override his parenting although being called 'miss' will catch you off-guard for the time being. "Why don't you tell her one thing about yourself and then Miss (Y/N) has to go, okay?"

Jihee's mouth twists in sadness, her hand still gripping yours. "Okay," she sighs again. "I get to talk to her more later though, right?"

Mr Park nods. "Of course. Miss (Y/N) will be spending a lot of time with you, so I'm glad you like her."

Jihee nods solemnly. "I like pretty people and you're super pretty," she tells you earnestly and your heart swells at the compliment.

“Thank you, Jihee,” you thank her genuinely, although you’re amused at the fact that she considers her appreciation for physical looks a good introduction to herself. “It was nice to meet you.”

With another decisive nod, Jihee turns and marches right off down the hall, presumably to her room. Mr Park turns to you, finally shutting his front door with a sigh. “That was Jihee. Ball of energy extraordinaire. She comes home from school at one-thirty, and will put her own things away before coming to eat a snack. She has one worksheet to do a day but with your help she’ll get it fairy quickly. I’ll email you a list of house rules.”

You nod. “That sounds perfect. What would the schedule look like? What time would I be here, and when would I expect you to come home?”

Mr Park hums, running a hand through his perfect hair. “For her school days, I’d like to have you in here maybe ten minutes before she comes. I’ll always leave her snack in the fridge and you can just pop it in the microwave and make yourself comfortable before she comes barrelling in. Then I’ll be home at five-thirty sharp whenever possible. Every other Saturday I’m in the office for eight hours and you’ll be watching Jihee for those days. If you can’t do a Saturday, just let me know so I can get someone to watch her, but generally I’d like you here from eight to five.”

You nod. All your friends have atypical work schedules so your Saturdays are empty in general, and since the weekdays are shorter hours you don’t mind. “When it comes to after-school playdates, should I expect you to be home or would you like me to take care of them?”

Mr Park’s lips tighten almost imperceptibly. “That won’t be an issue. Jihee doesn’t do playdates.” Your curiosity spikes at his short answer but his tone leaves no room for discussion so you don’t press it. “I’ll give you a key now. Tomorrow is my off-Saturday but if you can come in just to adjust yourself that would be great. I have some work to get done anyway so I’ll be mostly out of your hair although you can still ask me questions.”

You nod again. “Yeah, that works,” you confirm after a quick check to your phone calendar. When you look up, Mr Park is already holding out a key and you take it after a moment’s hesitation. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

Mr Park nods, moving to open the door when Jihee calls out with a whining tone to her voice. “Daddy, I need help!”

Mr Park sighs but it’s full of affection for his daughter. “I would walk you to your car but she calls for me,” his head dips into an apologetic bow but you shake your head.

“Don’t worry about it,” you smile at him. “There’s no need for that at all.” That is one of the main reasons, but another part of you doesn’t want him to know you have no car and you take the bus to his neighbourhood and then walk the rest of the way.

A twenty-four-year-old with no car? It’s a little embarrassing, especially in the area you both live in where it’s almost required to have a car to do anything. Generally, your babysitting jobs were close enough to your home, but the salary of this job enticed you to give up walking.

As you exit, you can hear Jihee starting off her complaints about her jacket and you smile to yourself subconsciously.

-

You’ve been working with the Parks for almost a month now and generally, it’s a good time. You only really see Mr Park when he comes home, but by then you have one foot out the door. There are days when he looks so beaten down that you want to offer him some encouragement, but you don’t want to step out of your boundaries. So, you just keep your head down and leave.

Jihee is sweet and easy-going, not hard for you to get along with. She always has some sort of fun idea for you to play along with and her schoolwork hasn’t been too terrible although you dread when she starts getting into more difficult maths.

But today, as soon as Jihee walks into the door, you suspect something is wrong. She doesn’t greet you as excitedly as she used to, just stalking straight into her bedroom and coming right now, settling herself down on the couch with a pout on her face.

“Jihee, don’t you want to eat?” you try to coax her to the dinner table, but she just shakes her head, immobile. You frown. It’s strange for the usually talkative child to be this closed off. “Did something happen at school?”

Jihee glares at the coffee table, shaking her head. “No,” she mutters but her cold-stone facade drops immediately as she suddenly bursts into tears. Your heart drops for the child crying on your couch and you immediately run to her and pull her into your arms. “Why don’t they like me?” she wails into your shirt and your heart drops.

You had suspected it when Mr Park shut down the playdate idea very quickly, but this just solidifies your thoughts. How could the kids at school not like such a sweet kid? As you’ve been working for the Parks for quite a bit now, you’ve grown to adore the young girl like she was one of your own nieces.

You don’t say anything just yet, just patting her hair and doing your best to calm her down. It takes almost an hour but now she just curls up in your arms, her hands gripping your shirt as she’s so close to falling asleep. You don’t have the heart to wake up so you resign yourself to letting her sleep on you for now.

Within ten minutes, you fall asleep as well. It’s not what you meant to do, but you couldn’t have stopped yourself. When your eyes open again, Jihee is no longer in your arms and there’s a large fluffy blanket laid on top of you. You blink yourself awake before panic sets in and you shoot up, looking around. “Jihee?” you call out and hear deep laughter behind you. When your head snaps back you see Mr Park chuckling at your face.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Miss (Y/N).”

It takes a minute for your words to register, blinking stupidly at your employer for a few moments before your face drops and you practically leap off the couch. “I’m so sorry!” you cry, bowing rapidly at a low angle. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep and it won’t happen again.”

You keep your eyes lowered and you look up at him through your lashes, scared of how he’ll react but to your surprise, Mr Park’s smile grows and he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, you looked comfortable and the doors were locked. Jihee didn’t get into any trouble, just was a little bored since you were asleep.”

You shake your head. “Regardless, I shouldn’t sleep on the job but thank you for the kindness. Jihee is very responsible for her age and it certainly reflects on your parenting.” You smile back at him.

“Well, thank you for your kind words. It means a lot to me as well,” Mr Park hums. “Would you like to join us for dinner? I know you usually leave around the time I get back but let me at least feed you before you go.”

You frown. “I’d like to, but I should get going,” you say absentmindedly. “I have to make it in time to catch the bus.”

You’re looking around, trying to gather your belongings, when you realise how silent Mr Park is. And in turn, you realise what you just said. “You take the bus?” His voice lowers and you stare at the look of concern he has on his face. “It’s practically dark by the time you leave and you’re walking to the bus stop by yourself?”

“Ah– it’s okay! It’s not a far walk, just up the street.” You hurry to defend your choices, waving your hands. “I’ve gotten home safe so far, no?”

Mr Park shakes his head. “No, you can’t take chances. I’ll drive you home tonight after dinner. You must stay.”

You stare up at him with wide eyes, but his stance is unwavering. And as much as you would usually protest—being taken home by a much older man would usually ring alarms in your head—the idea of not having to wait in the cold and the dark by yourself is very appealing. And from how you’ve interacted with him before, Mr Park seems very sweet, and you trust him just a little more than you probably should.

“Well, I do thank you for your kindness,” you sigh, nodding your head in concession. “But this will be the only time.”

Mr Park chuckles, not taking you seriously. “We’ll see. Now come on. Tonight is beef stew and my younger brother will come for dinner as well.”

“Uncle Uyu is coming?” You can hear Jihee’s excited voice coming from the kitchen as well as her feet pittering on the floor as she launches herself into your lap. “Hi again, Miss (Y/N).”

“Hello again, Miss Jihee,” you tease, pressing the tip of your finger to her forehead and Jihee giggles.

“Are you staying for dinner?” You nod again and she screeches in happiness, not giving a second glance at how you wince at the sound. “I can’t wait! I have to make you pretty! Come with me.”

With as much seriousness as she can muster in her body, she pulls you by the hand into her room as Mr Park watches the two of you with a soft smile and follows the two of you into Jihee’s room. He takes a seat on the bed as Jihee fusses over your hair, styling it with her toddler's hands and putting an obscene amount of hair clips into it. But you’re whipped for the little girl and you let her do whatever she wants, ending up in two uneven pigtails and a plethora of Hello Kitty clips.

“Daddy, isn’t it pretty?” Jihee giggles, moving your head to tilt so her father can take a look at her work. “It’s better than your hair to practice!”

Mr Park, mock-affronted, holds his hand to his chest. “Betrayed by my own daughter? Alas, but I can let it slide as this may very well be your best work.”

Jihee giggles, pressing her face against your cheek when the doorbell rings. “Uncle Uyu!” As always, her focus is diverted by any new thing and she runs for the door, both you and Mr Park following shortly after. As she yanks the door open, a man around Seonghwa’s age greets her just as excitedly, bending down to pick her up and spin her around.

“Jiji,” he cheers, “Already so big?” His eyes find you and you offer a small wave. “And who’s this? Seonghwa, you found a girl?”

Mr Park’s jaw drops and your eyes widen as you rush to contradict. “Oh, no, no, I’m just the babysitter. Mr Park has kindly invited me for dinner.”

Wooyoung chuckles at the look on both your faces. “Don’t worry, I just like to pull on Seonghwa’s leg. You’re a little young for him too.”

You offer a smile. “Yeah, and the forties are a little out of my age range as well,” you try to joke, but to your surprise, Wooyoung breaks out cackling, startling Jihee who starts laughing with him confusedly. Mr Park’s shocked face has somehow become even more intense.

“You think I’m how old?” Wooyoung has reigned in his laughter although a smile still pulls at his lips. “I’m only thirty-four!”

A gasp made its way out of your mouth as you start bowing rapidly again in apology. “I’m so sorry! You look your age, I just assumed you had to be older.”

Mr Park sighs, although an amused smile now graces his face. “It’s okay, I can understand it. I’ll just be giving you a hard time from now on.” He punctuates with a wink and your eyes snap down to Jihee in embarrassment.

“Let’s get on with dinner so I can go home and just melt in embarrassment, okay?” you groan and the two older men laugh. Jihee seems to agree with your sentiment, declaring her hunger grumpily and you laugh and pick her up. “See, even Jihee’s on my side. Let’s eat now.”

Mr Park hums, stepping aside. “All right, I see I’m outnumbered now. I hope you don’t mind how casual this dinner is, but I promise the food is worth it. Wooyoung’s the better cook, but he’s taught me a few tricks.”

You shrug. “Any food is good food to me. At home, I have instant ramen and fried rice so it’s a nice change.”

Out of disapproval, Mr Park shakes his head although the smile does not leave his face. “I do not miss my college diet. Please, take a seat.” He motions to the dinner table, pulling out a chair for you to seat yourself, sitting beside you as Wooyoung and Jihee join the other side of the table.

“So, tell me about yourself (Y/N),” Wooyoung hums, leaning on the table by his elbows. “You’re in college?”

You shake your head. “I graduated a year and a half ago, I’m twenty-four now, but it feels like just yesterday I was taking my finals,” you chuckle. “What was your major, Mr Wooyoung?”

Wooyoung smiled, “Please, call me Wooyoung. Mr Wooyoung just sounds weird. But to answer your question, my major was culinary, of course. Before I taught Hwa how to cook, he was hopeless. I think I was feeding him and Jihee primarily other than his sandwiches and canned soup.” He sighs, leaning back and smirking at Mr Park whose ears are red.

“Hey, Youngah, I paid you for your work. Don’t make me seem incompetent,” Mr Park snorts, leaning over to smack the back of his neck. “Wooyoung may be eight years younger than me but he certainly acts like he’s five.”

You laugh at the banter. “Me and my siblings were the same way. We’d always fight but in the end, we care for each other. It’s sweet to see you guys act the same.” You smile, taking a bite of your stew. “Thank you for letting me sit in on your family dinner.”

Mr Park shakes his head. “Of course. Can’t let you walk on your own at night, you know. I’d be happy to give you a ride home from now on.”

“Ah, no, I can’t make you do that,” you try and decline again but Seonghwa is having none of that.

“It’s not a matter of making me, I offered. I can’t let my babysitter just stand around in the dark. Let me do this for you. Jihee cares for you, she wouldn’t want to make you get hurt.”

You frown, pursing your lips. “I suppose I can’t argue with that,” you concede. “Thank you once again.”

Mr Park shakes his head, his hand moving up to ruffle your hair. “Don’t worry about it.” His hand rests atop your head a moment longer before he remembers who he is in relation to you. “Ah, sorry. Habit from Jihee.”

The heartfelt moment is cut loose by everyone amused at Mr Park’s habit. Jihee immediately takes the initiative to start rambling about stickers, engrossing everyone in the conversation, Wooyoung being particularly vocal. The dinner is finished with no other events, and you offer to help clean up, ignoring Mr Park when he tries to protest.

“Thank you for helping out,” he tries to thank you but you wave your hand dismissively.

“You fed me and are driving me home. It’s the least I could do. Shall we head out though? I don’t want you to have to leave Jihee for too long.”

Mr Park nods, grabbing his keys and jangling them as he opens the door to the garage. You do your best to not show your surprise at the sight of his fancy car. Of course, you knew he was well off, but you never imagined you’d actually be sitting in his car. He even opens the door for you, letting you slide into the passenger seat.

You hold yourself stiffly, but Mr Park looks over and just laughs at you. “Relax, I’m not going to bite you. Just let me know where to go and we’ll be set. Want a piece of gum?”

He holds out a pack of gum and you gladly take the piece, happy for the distraction. Most of the car ride is silent, except for you telling him occasionally where to go. But as he pulls up to your street, he slows to a crawl.

“You know, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable around.me. Sure, I’m your employer, but I’m also a dad. I got the dad instinct, you know?” Your lips twitch at his attempt to be comforting. “Really, though. Don’t hold yourself so tight around me. I don’t mind doing this for you.”

You turn your eyes down. “Thank you. I’ll try, it’s just a little weird for me if you understand. But I do appreciate everything you’re doing for me.” As you unbuckle your seatbelt, you smile at Mr Park. “I hope you have a good night.”

As you go to your apartment building, Mr Park leans out of his car and calls after you. “You can call me Seonghwa, (Y/N). Mr Park makes me feel old.”

You laugh at his admission. “We’ll see, grandpa!” You can’t help but tease him before running into your home, leaving an amused Seonghwa outside.

-

These days you and Seonghwa have become a lot more friendly. He’s taken to driving you home despite your protests and during the car rides, some interesting conversations have happened. For example, you learnt that he built his company from the ground and yet is respected in many old money circles.

Okay, maybe you didn’t learn that from a conversation, and instead just searched on the internet. But what can you say? You’re curious about the man who happens to be your charge’s father and the man who happens to be very very handsome.

Maybe you have a bit of a crush on Seonghwa, but you couldn’t blame yourself. There was something about him. It is the aura he holds himself with, the kindness in his smile when he arrives home, and it helps that he is hot. Every so often, you can’t help but find yourself glancing at his pretty hands, or his well-toned arms, and you have to look away before heat spreads up to your ears.

You’re down bad, and it’s not getting any better. Every time you see Seonghwa, you want to jump him but it would be inappropriate. Not only is he your employer, but he’s also a decade older than you. There’s no way he would be interested in you, he probably sees you just as some kid.

With a sigh, you look down at your sketchbook. Today was supposed to be a fun day. Both Jihee and Seonghwa were off today, so you were spending the day with her as Seonghwa was still called into the office to put in some extra hours. But then the toddler fell sick and you were tasked with taking care of her.

At least it was a fairly easy job—Jihee slept most of the day and you were free to work on some of your more personal projects. Although your passion lies in children, you do enjoy drawing and even took a couple of classes in college. As you lay on the couch sketching, you get so lost in your mind you don’t even register the door opening and the footsteps coming towards you.

“Is that me?”

A shriek rips its way out of your throat as you do your best to whirl around and hold your drawings to your chest, but your legs get caught in the blanket and you instead fall half off the couch to the ground. Your chin props your head up on the ground but your legs are still tangled on the couch, your arms twisted into the blanket, the sketchbook an arm’s reach away.

“Hi, Mr– Seonghwa. How was work today?” you mumble half into the carpet, too embarrassed to look up. “Jihee’s taking a nap in her room.”

After a moment of silence, Seonghwa laughs, although it’s a little pained. “Uh. Do you need help up?”

You groan, pulling one of your arms out from your cocoon prison. “That would be great, thanks. Sorry.”

One of his cool hands gently takes your elbow as another comes to rest on your back. It’s at the moment you realise your shirt has ridden up. You can’t help but tense at the touch, hoping the embarrassment doesn’t show on your face. “Jihee’s taking a nap?”

You’re grateful he chose to brush over the incident. “Yeah– yeah. She’s not much better, but she’s not much worse. It’s just a simple cold, so she needs to sleep it off.” You chose to ignore the hand lingering on the small of your back, instead scooching back on your butt to distance yourself just a little bit. He’s your employer, there’s no way you can give in to your feelings.

But the couch seems to be against your plans, as when you try to pull the blankets off your feet you tumble into Seonghwa’s legs, knocking him down as you land on his firm chest. Your face is mere centimetres away from his and you freeze. “I–” you stammer out, Seonghwa equally as awkward.

“Sorry–” He tries to sit up, but it just results in the blankets twisting tighter and pulling you two even closer together. You swear if you could hold your breath, you could feel and hear his heart beating. “Ah, shit.”

You can’t help but laugh a little at his profanity, not something you’ve ever expected to hear from him. “Welcome back, Seonghwa.”

Seognhwa’s eyes widen, his blush deepens, and his head snaps away from you. Your brows furrow at the change in his features and you can’t help but wonder if it’s from the proximity, or if it’s the proximity to you specifically. “Ah. Let’s get out of this, shall we?” he coughs. He carefully detangles himself from the pile and holds out a hand to you.

You grasp it, noting his firm grip and letting him pull you up. “Thanks.”

“I’ll drive you back to your apartment first since Jihee’s asleep right now. It won’t take long.” While Seonghwa’s voice remains warm, his eyes move away from you.

Suddenly a guilty feeling pools in your stomach and you turn away as well, bending to pick up your sketchbook silently. “Of course.” The disappointment fills your head as you internally admonish yourself for even trying to entertain your fantasies of the older man.

But, to your surprise, a warm hand pats you on your shoulder. “You are good at art, (Y/N). You should continue to pursue and practice it, even as just a hobby.” His words make you look up into his eyes and you see a sparkle behind them. “You’re a talented person, and you should take advantage of it.”

“Thank you, Seonghwa,” you smile at him again. “Once again, I appreciate the kindness you offer me.”

Seonghwa chuckles, spinning the car keys as you’ve quickly found out is his habit. “(Y/N), thank you for putting up with such an old man who can offer you nothing but kindness.”

You snort. “You’re not even that old, you geezer.” In retaliation, Seonghwa leans over and pokes you in the forehead.

“Oh, hush and let me take you home.”

-

It’s been almost six months since that day and your feelings have only intensified. But this time, you swear perhaps he may be returning your feelings too. Sometimes you catch him looking at you with a gentle smile, and his hand on your shoulder lingers a little longer than you think. But then he talks to an employee on the phone and you remember how accomplished he is. Even if he wasn’t much older than you, there’s no way you would fit into his lifestyle.

And, like any self-respecting person would do, you start to avoid him. What else are you going to do? Tell him? You’d be crazy to even entertain the thought. There’s no way he would even take you seriously.

These days you’ve just been going to work, and heading straight home. Seonghwa barely has time to catch you, and you’ve been plotting with Jihee to keep him away. She doesn’t quite understand why, but it’s fun to her so she’s happy to. You’re pretty sure half your wallet has gone to sticker sheets. But no matter how many stickers you’ve bought, it doesn’t help Seonghwa from figuring out something is amiss.

It’s your one day off and you’re spending it at home, lounging around and just watching movies while you sulk about your tangled feelings. Watching all these romantic movies doesn’t help at all and you groan. There’s no way you’re going to act like a lonely teenager, you declare to yourself. You’ll go to a club! Maybe meet someone closer to your age and you won’t feel like a wet sock anymore.

That’s it, you’ve convinced yourself. You’ll give yourself a night out. Suddenly inspired, you throw off the blankets covering you and start donning your nicest clothes. There’s a club you used to frequent in your college days, and you haven’t been back since you got the new job. It’d be nice to let loose again.

As the nighttime approaches, you’re almost all ready to go. You have your outfit and your makeup, and all you need is your shoes. Once you pick out your favourite pair of heels (comfy and not too high), you make your way down. You can feel the excitement pounding out of your chest and you can’t wait to get the night started.

As you enter the club, your body immediately relaxes as you take in the atmosphere. It’s been so long, you’re just excited to have fun. Get drunk, find a nice guy, and forget your problems. You down drink after drink, hyping yourself up, but as late night comes, nothing happens. With a sigh, you plunk down your last drink, feeling the buzz of the alcohol burn in your veins.

Nothing will happen tonight, and you just have to come to terms with it. You place down a couple of bills to pay off your tab, tip, and stumble out of the bar. You’re plastered. You can hardly walk in a straight line and you lean against the cool brick for a minute, letting the sensation sober you up a bit as you do your best to call up a taxi.

But before you can do so, a hand creeps onto your bare waist and your head snaps up to see a man, no younger than fifty, leering at you. “Uh, hi?” you slur out, your hands fiddling with your phone as you try and discreetly move to the phone app. You may be plastered, but you’re not a fool and you know what could happen in this situation.

Unfortunately, the old man seems to know what you’re trying and he grabs one of your wrists. “Now, pretty lady, take a break there. Why don’t you come hang out with me for a bit?” His words are greasy and slimy, and you almost gag at the idea of what he’s insinuating. At least Seonghwa isn’t triple your age…and he’s hot.

“Ah, no thanks,” you manage to push past him, pressing your most recent contact and holding the phone to your ear. “I’m a little uh…” You’re cut off when whoever you call starts speaking.

“(Y/N)? Why are you calling me? It’s nine.” Seonghwa’s voice crackles through the receiver. “Are you okay?”

“Ah, shit,” you groan, stumbling to your side and colliding with the wall. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to call you. I’m just out and–”

Once again, the old man approaches you and pulls you back by the waist. “Come on, pretty. Get off the phone and pay attention to me.”

You shake your head and pull away again, moving even more down the street. “No, no, I’m not– just leave me alone. I want to go home,” you say, shaking your head, still holding the phone to your face. “Just…I wanna go home.”

“(Y/N), are you okay? Where are you?” You can hear the worry in Seonghwa’s voice rise and a faint jingling of keys. “I’m going to get you. Wooyoung’s here so he can watch Jihee. Talk to me, (Y/N).”

“I’m at the club Desire. Or near it. I don’t know.” Your head is muddled and no matter where you look, the street signs are blurring and the old man is still trying to get your attention. “I just want to go home,” you repeat, tears springing to your eyes. “I thought I told you to leave me alone!”

The old man growls at your tone, grabbing at you again. “Don’t be stupid, child. You can come home with me and I’ll teach you how to be proper for a man like you.” His breath reeks of alcohol and bad breath and you instinctively slap him across the face. Surprised, he jerks back, and you take a couple of shaky steps back again.

“Leave me be! I don’t want you near me.”

The old man’s eyes narrow at you and he takes one menacing step forward, his hand raising to strike you but you bring up your arms to block the slap, whimpering in pain when the hit lands and your phone clatters out of your hand. “You insolent child!” Your eyes squeeze shut and you hope Seonghwa gets there soon.

-

Seonghwa has never driven so fast in his life. He’s racing through the lights and he counts his lucky stars that they’re all green and that the police aren’t around right now. He can hear arguing coming from his phone and he’s calm enough knowing you’re at least still on the phone. But then he hears a noise and what he assumes to be your phone falling on the ground. “Fuck,” he mutters to himself. “Please, please be okay, (Y/N).”

Stepping on the gas, he roars around the corner to the club you mentioned, praying you’re still there. As he gets out, he’s looking around but can’t seem to find you. “(Y/N)?” he calls out. “Where are you?”

He races down the street to find you pinned against the wall, your hands attempting to push an old geezer away and he sees red. He marches right up, grabbing his arm and pulling him away from your shaking figure. “Fuck off,” he growls in his face, delighting in the fear that moves across his face. “Don’t let me catch you near this place again. Now fuck off!”

He practically throws the old man to his knees before turning and cupping your face. “Seonghwa,” you practically sob. He can still see the drunken haze in your eyes but it’s almost completely cleared up now and his brow furrows even more.

“Come on, I’m taking you home.” He pulls you along and you do your best to keep up with him in your inebriated state. “I can’t believe you would do this! Have you no sense of security? Why didn’t you get anyone to come with you? Why would you call a taxi outside of the establishment?”

He still opens the car door for you and you slide immediately in, eyes staring wide at the pristine dashboard. He slides in and puts the car in the ignition before sitting back and groaning in frustration. “I hope you’re ready to talk as soon as we get inside,” he gripes. “I still am so shocked, (Y/N). You act so mature about Jihee, but what happened then? You could’ve been hurt…no, you were hurt!”

He continues his rant driving up to your street, ushering you into the elevator and into your place. “Do you know how my heart dropped when I saw you struggling? I don’t want to see you hurt. You need to take care of yourself.”

As he yells at you, his eyes rake over you to see if you’re injured any further, but something else stops him and the words die in his throat. You’re wearing a sheer shirt, your lacy bra underneath just showing off your chest. Your leather skirt has ridden up your thighs and your eyes fill with unshed tears. And something burns in his brain.

It’s been months since he hired you, and with each passing day, he finds himself more and more attracted to you. He berated himself every time these unwanted thoughts popped into his head. Sure, you’re sweet, good with kids, and are passionate about what you care about. But you’re also so young. You can do so much better than him, a single father with no prospects.

But seeing you like this, heat sparks in his gut and he leans in, his face mere inches away from yours. “When you wear things like that, it makes me want to rip them off you and do things even that creep couldn’t even imagine,” his low voice pierces through your thoughts and your mouth gapes open.

“I’m okay with that,” you whisper, hand reaching out to brush against his chest, but Seonghwa blinks as he realises what he just tried to do, and he jerks back. Your eyes flash with hurt and Seonghwa would like to hit himself for doing that to you but he can’t let you come onto him when you’re still drunk.

“I– I’m sorry,” you whisper, your hands reaching behind you to steady yourself on the wall. “I just felt so lonely. I wanted to be wanted.” 

Seonghwa’s breath stutters as he stares down into your wavering eyes. “I–” He wants you so bad. But he can’t bring himself to say it. Not when you’re drunk. “Go to bed. We’ll talk in the morning.”

He turns away and hears your disappointed sigh alongside your footsteps trudging to your bedroom. With a groan, he sits on the couch with his head in his hands. He wants to reassure you, but he can’t help but feel guilty about it. But he’s still straining in his pants and after locating your bathroom, he sits on the shower bench, leaning against the cool tile and breathing in and out. With a groan, he unzips his pants and pulls out his half-hard cock. The feeling of regret rises but he pushes it down to his gut as he spits in his hand and presses his thumb against the head of his dick.

As he wraps his hand around his cock and pumps it, he can’t help but close his eyes and imagine you. You with your mouth wrapped around his cock, with your hands gripping his thighs. You seated on his throbbing member, grinding your hips against him as you lean down to kiss him. He can feel his dick jump and he wonders what it’ll feel like to fill you with his cum.

He lets out a broken moan as his grip turns tighter. His image of you would scratch your nails down his back. He can almost hear your little whines and breathy moans as your hips work over him. You’d lean in and whisper into his mouth, “Seonghwa, fuck me hard,” and—

Seonghwa sighs as he looks down at his cum-coated hand and the mix of shame and relief swirling around his brain. Maybe he should just go to sleep on the couch and hope he doesn’t dream of you. As he washes his hand and goes to lie down, he can already feel a stress headache coming on. He hopes you’ll at least fare better in the morning.

-

When you awaken, you have a throbbing pain in your head and you groan and roll out of bed. You’ve taken your club shirt off as well as your skirt, but your bra and underpants are still on. You’re sure your makeup is smudged too and you have no clue how you got home but all you want is some coffee and oatmeal.

You trudge to the kitchen, rubbing your eyes from sleep. There’s a blanket fallen on the floor so you toss it onto the couch and head straight into the kitchen to start your coffee maker. As you lean against the counter and yawn.

“(Y/N), are you feeling better?”

A voice calls out from behind you and you shriek, whirling around to see a sleepy Seonghwa, blanket wrapped around him and his hair a mess. You shriek again, realising how little you’re clothed and duck behind the counter, your cheeks flaming and your heart beating faster than you ever thought it could.

“What are you doing here?” you force out, your voice tight.

“Do…do you not remember last night at all?” You do remember most of what happened. He took you home, but that’s about as far as you remember. And you’re not sure you want to know the rest of it. But you’re far too embarrassed to admit, so you put your acting skills to use. You’re not sure you can handle the shame of a real conversation.

“What?” you ask, forcing your voice to pitch higher as you slowly stand back up, hands covering your chest. “I didn’t– Oh my God, I’m so sorry if I came onto you. I was drunk, I must’ve been out of my mind. Please accept my deepest apologies.”

You notice Seonghwa’s eyes trail down to your chest and then snap back up to your face as if he’s forcing himself to and he chokes out a breath. Despite the headache, your mouth twitches. Maybe you’re still a little out of it. “No, nothing like that. I fetched you from the club because you called me to save you from a creep. Then I took you home and we slept.”

You sigh. “I’m glad. I do apologise for whatever my behaviour was. It was out of line and it won’t happen again. I understand if you want to let me go–”

“No!” Seonghwa’s outburst surprises you and your eyes widen. The lack of clothes you’re wearing has been long forgotten and you move around the counter to stand in front of him. Seonghwa has the decency to look a little embarrassed at the volume of his voice. “Sorry. I just…it’s like you’re a part of our family already. I care for you just as much as I care for Jihee.”

Ah. He thinks of you like a child. Your suspicions were right. You turn slightly to face away from him, trying to keep the disappointment out of your voice. “I see. Well, I appreciate that. It’s nice to have a second family,” you chuckle, internally beating yourself up. How could you even entertain the thought of the two of you being together? “Let me change, and I’ll walk you out.”

As you return to your room, you finally let your heart sink as tears brim in your eyes. You hastily wipe them away as you rummage in the pile of clothes on your bed for something fairly appropriate to wear. First, you make a fool of yourself in front of Seonghwa, and then your crush is unfounded. You can’t seem to catch a break.

With a sigh, you pull on some shorts and a large shirt before heading back out. “Hey, (Y/N), could we talk first?” Seonghwa asks, still standing in between the kitchen and the living room as his eyes flit around nervously.

After some hesitation, you finally find your voice. “Sure? What’s up? You can sit on the couch if you want.”

Seonghwa takes a seat, hiking up his sweatpants and you move to the floor across the little coffee table. “Last night…you told me something.” Oh no. This is it. You bite your lower lip and look down, awaiting his next words. “Uh. So. You think you came onto me, right? Well. It was. Uh. It may have been me.”

You blink at him foolishly as your brain tries to wrap itself around your head. “You what?”

Seonghwa raises his hands and lowers his head ashamedly. “Let me explain, please. I saw you outside with that horrid excuse of a human and something in me snapped. I just wanted to protect you and I brought you home. But seeing you in that outfit? It just made me want you. And I told you. And you reciprocated. At least, you tried to.” He chuckles a little to himself, bringing up his hand to grip at his hair. “I told you we would talk in the morning. But one thing you said stuck with me. You wanted to be wanted. And all night I’ve been thinking about it. (Y/N), you were drunk. But you weren’t that drunk. Something you said had truth to it. Please. For my own sanity, tell me how you feel about me. Please.”

His voice cracks at the last syllable and something in your heart hurts at the sound. “Seonghwa I…I do care for you. More than I should. You’ve shown me unbendable compassion and you’ve never taken my words or myself for granted…or treated me like a child. Against my better judgment, I’ve fallen for you.” You sigh, tightening your fists. “I’ve been hating myself for the better part of six months because of it. You were so much better than me. In job, in maturity. What was I supposed to do? I went to the club to forget you, but it appears that didn’t work.”

Seonghwa stands quickly, shuffling over to kneel in front of you. “How could you think such a thing? Me better than you? Don’t make me laugh. I may be older than you, and yes, I have a better-paying job. But in the end, how could you compare? You’re amazing with Jihee. You’ve managed to teach her in ways I could hardly hope to imagine. And just because I have a higher wage doesn’t mean your job is less important. I wasn’t lying when I said it felt like you were already part of the family.”

“You told me you thought of me like Jihee,” you argue, and Seonghwa laughs, leaning forward to take your hands.

“I said I care for you as much as I care for Jihee. Not in the same way, (Y/N).” Seonghwa smiles kindly. “I know if this does happen we’ll need to put a lot of care into this, but if you’ll have me, I’d like to be with you.”

You’re not sure whether this is a dream or not, staring up at Seonghwa with wide eyes. You’d be a fool if you said no, but the worries in your head won’t seem to cease. Taking a deep breath, you push them aside and smile up at him. “I’ll have you, Seonghwa.”

As soon as the words fall out of your mouth you can see Seonghwa’s eyes crinkle as he smiles and leans in, his nose almost touching yours. “May I kiss you?” he murmurs in his deep voice, and instead of gracing him with a reply, you meet him in a soft kiss.

His large hands cup your face as he deepens the kiss, and his thumbs brush against your cheekbones. “You’re so pretty,” he hums, pressing a multitude of pecks to your lips. “Last night I was so conflicted. Seeing you like that made me almost go insane.”

An idea sparks in your brain, and a smile widens on your face. Your fingers crawl up his shoulders to rest your arms on them. “How insane?” you ask, and Seonghwa’s eyes darken.

“I’ll show you,” he grows before capturing your lips with his once again. This time his arms shift to wrap around your waist and he pulls you closer until you’re practically pressed against his body. You squeak at the sudden movement but it’s swallowed by the kiss.

He pulls you onto his lap and you can feel the growing hardness in his slacks. You wriggle your hips a little, grinding down, and the moan that Seonghwa lets out is heaven to your ears. “Fuck, (Y/N). You’re so pretty,” he repeats, burying his face in your neck and nipping at the sensitive skin.

You whine at the pain blooming into pleasure and your hands fist into his hair. Your precious sounds get to Seonghwa and he groans, moving your legs to wrap around his waist and he hoists you up and brings you over to the couch. “Your noises are so pretty, baby,” Seonghwa groans into your mouth. “Can’t wait to hear them when you’re wrapped around my cock.”

“Please–” is all you can muster out and your whines only serve to make Seonghwa’s cock harder in his pants.

With a groan, he pats your ass, motioning for you to move up. As soon as your hips lift, he grabs the waistband of your shorts and pulls them down to your knees, leaving your underwear and shirt on. In the same motion, he shoves his slacks and boxers down just far enough to let his cock spring free.

“Seonghwa–”  you whine and something in Seonghwa’s stomach burns at the idea of you crying on his throbbing dick. He sits back, guiding you to sit right above his cock as he moves it to rub against your soaked underwear. Every time the angry-red tip of it brushes against your clit you let out breathy moans and it only serves to make Seonghwa impossibly harder.

“Fuck, I can’t wait any longer,” Seonghwa breathes, his free hand coming up to brush against your face. A smile blooms on your face as you bend to kiss him again.

“Then don’t.”

Something flips in Seonghwa’s brain and he lifts you, pushes your underwear to the side, and lets his cock press into you slowly. The both of you throw your head back and groan loudly at the feeling of him slowly filling you up. He’s not the biggest you’ve had but that doesn’t matter as the sting of the stretch is enough to make you drool. You can hardly speak as you whine nonsense into his ear and let your head drop to the crook of his neck.

“You fit around me so well,” Seonghwa praises, his head spinning at the feeling of finally fucking you the way he dreamed of. It was only yesterday he was fucking into his hand at the thought of you and here he is, only a few hours later, his painfully hard member inside of you. “Look at you, a mess for me. Bet you’ve never been with an older man before. Do I make you feel good, baby?”

You clench at his words. “Fuck, yes, the best I’ve had,” you babble, squirming at the already overwhelming feeling. “You’re so good to me.”

Seonghwa laughs delightedly at how gone you seem to be not five minutes in. “So precious, especially for me, (Y/N). Sitting on my dick so prettily.” He gives a little experimental thrust upwards and you gasp. The noises you make are so addictive, he can’t help but do it again. And again.

You’re panting, moaning as he fills you up so deliciously and your hands grip at his now-wrinkled dress shirt. His cool hands slide up your baggy shirt to shove up your bra and cup your boobs. The weight of them sitting in his hands makes him groan as he leans in to mouth at them through your shirt.

“Been dreaming about these tits since last night. Jerked off in the bathroom after seeing you, you know?” Your eyes widen at the admission and Seonghwa smirks at how embarrassed you look. “Wanted you so bad and you thought I wouldn’t like you in that way? You’re so cute, (Y/N).” He punctuates each word with one thrust after another.

The feeling of his dick pumping into you as well as Seonghwa’s teeth scraping against the soft flesh of your tits makes you so overwhelmed. It’s almost embarrassing how close you are already, and Seonghwa knows it, chucking up at you from between your chest. “Aw, baby, you’re so far gone. Am I that good?”

You cry out and sink your teeth into the junction of his shoulder and neck. You’re trying so hard to keep your noises down but Seonghwa isn’t having any of that. His hand finds its way to your hair, gently tugging on it until your head falls back, exposing the column of your neck.

As his warm breath ghosts over it, you stiffen, and when he moves up from your chest to lick a stripe up it and nip at your earlobe, you come with a groan. Your hips are shaking from the intensity of it but his thrusts don’t stop and soon you’re whining from the overstimulation.

And he still hasn’t come.

“Fuck, Seonghwa, it’s so much,” you groan, mouth hanging open. Seonghwa greedily swoops in to capture your lips once more, licking into your mouth as his thrusts become more and more erratic.

His dick twitches and he groans. “Where do you want me? I’m clean,” Seonghwa mumbles into your mouth.

You shift your hips a little. “I’m clean too and on the pill, so it’s on you. I don’t care, I just want you, Hwa.”

Your words spark something in Seonghwa and he thrusts upwards, once, and his cum starts filling you. It’s searingly hot, settling deep in your gut and you throw your head back and moan so goddamn loud. His throbbing cock is twitching like crazy and it’s still pumping cum into you. Seonghwa’s hand slides down your body to tweak at your nipples, thumb over your flesh, and finally come to rub little circles into your clit.

You gasp and it feels like you’re touching heaven from the extra stimulation. “Gonna fill you up so well,” Seonghwa groans. “Do you think Jihee would like a sibling?” 

Your thoughts all blur together at his sentence and you come again with a groan. Your cunt squeezes around him so deliciously and a sob breaks its way out of your throat, one that Seonghwa eagerly swallows as he kisses you again.

His thrusts start to slow down and you slowly pull off his now-softening dick and settle back down on his lap. His hands push his leaking cum back into your pulsating pussy and you sigh at the feeling.

“Well, that was quite the escalation,” Seonghwa laughs quietly as he pulls both your and his pants back up and wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace. His hand pats your butt and you squirm and slap his chest softly.

“You’re lucky I’m on the pill.” You roll your eyes good-naturedly and Seonghwa hums, capturing your lips in his yet again. He can’t get enough of your plush lips and you’re not complaining at all.

“I’m lucky to have you, period,” he sighs happily. “Thank you for giving me a chance.”

You smile and sit up, ignoring the whines that come out of Seonghwa’s mouth at the lack of contact. “Well, I couldn’t let you be a lonely old man,” you tease and Seonghwa smacks your ass again.

“Can old man do what I just did?” You’re suddenly lying on your back with Seonghwa hovering over you, a crooked smile growing on his face. “Or do you need another demonstration?”

You smile and throw your arms around his shoulders and pull him closer. “I don’t know, sir, maybe you should show me once more.”

With a nip to your lips, Seonghwa leans in and your eyes crinkle at the promise of what’s to come.

[mitsies]

I know this is like so random but do you have any geto, gojo, nanami, or megumi ao3 recs because the only good fics I’ve read of jjk are ones you’ve written 😭

you have come to the right place :,) i post more recs than fics at this point haha most of these are copy pasted off previous rec lists but have been added onto! the ones with green + marks are NEW RECS

here's a post on how to use ao3 to find fics by yourself for those who dont know <3

gojo + ao3:

+ intrinsic warmth: my favourite fic of all time. like genuinely. insane writing, fucking amazing in every sense of the term. 2nd time recommending this! reader's character is so sick BUT updates real slow (which isnt a bad thing!! good things take time!!) so i wouldn't read if you aren't patient // 122k words, 15 chapters, incomplete

+ ripverse: not really a series, more like a compilation of fics! it's got a lot of angst and the one titled 'interlude' contains smut i think so beware, and it's also a lovetriangle/poly-but-geto-goes-crazy-so-not-poly moment // 55k words, 8 pieces

+ the witches' brew: super cute fluff! reader owns a cafe, gojo is a regular, it's all around adorable // 2 chapters, 11k words, completed

+ all that is solid melts into air: arranged marriage trope! i haven't read but @/aanobrain loves this one // 7k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ cake batter: established relationship w/ dad!gojo & megumi <33 not much to say, just short n sweet, i am such a sucker for dad gojo so its no surprise there's one of these on the list.. // 2k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ best of luck: initial concept is really unique!! confessions, slight angst, takes place at the beginning/middle-ish of s1 i think? so cute loved this &lt;;3 // 5k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ afternoon tea(se): gojo torturing megumi. classic !! so so cute love the banter // 1.7k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ my apologies, gordon ramsay: god i hate this man. jk. reader is a teacher and a functional human being; gojo is not. loved! // 8k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ a name known only to paper: platonic, angst- beautifully written, such a unique idea. reader is gojo's older sibling. // 3k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ heart beats: another collection! i looove gojo in this so so cute i also adore bff nanami in the last one haha // 11k words, 3 pieces

+ exposure therapy: this is 1/2 of a 2 piece collection. when i read this for the first time i was floored- i love the creative take, and the reader's character (it was a 'she's so me' moment). this author writes with such a subtle but unadulterated take on love and i adore it // 5k words

+ how to be a human being: 2/2 of the previous rec and the perfect continuation in every sense of the term. oh my gosh, is this masterful- from the relationships & writing of megumi and tsumiki to gojo (i almost forgot this was a rec for him) it's all around amazing // 20k words

+ the sanctity of a name: SO SENTIMENTAL !! what an adorable work that rly goes into the psychology and significance of his technique + upbringing. so real and raw and very him // 2k words, complete, 1 chapter

+ assumptions: omf jealous gojo...... he's so cute in this!! you guys are married and it's almost his birthday, but while you're planning his surprise party he suspects something else.. // 6k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ even with the lights off: RAHHHH another fic that has me floored and pushing the #saveijichi agenda at the same time // 8k words, 2 chapters, complete

nanami + ao3:

+ math help: dad!nanami w son!yuuji.... yeah that's all i really need to say i think! // 1 chapter, 2k words, complete

+ photo albums: nanami shares abt his childhood! // 1k wc, 1 chapter, complete

+ i don't really read for nanami but i would check out @aanobrain and maybe shoot them an ask bc she's a big fan :)

geto + ao3:

+ lessons in love: DAD!GETO.................. im such a sucker for a good family dynamic in fics and this is adorable !! no curse au if i remember right! // 4k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ forever is in your eyes: angsty but ends in fluff :,) touches on his mental state, riko's death, all that! so sweet, i adore how this author writes him <;3 // 2k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ ripverse: not really a series, more like a compilation of fics! it's got a lot of angst and the one titled 'interlude' contains smut i think so beware, and it's also a lovetriangle/poly w gojo-but-geto-goes-crazy-so-not-poly moment // 55k words, 8 pieces

+ dog days are over: a series!! by the same author who wrote ripverse which is how you know it's going to be brilliant !! marriage, parenthood, some nsfw moments // 30k words, 5 chapters, incomplete

+ curious cat: cat gojo and neighbor geto.. i love this one! it's so so cute and sweet, if you're looking for some light fluff this is definetely for you // 8k words, 5 chapters, complete

megumi + ao3:

+ complicit: college!au !! i remember reading this and loving it omg, the unique concept kept me hooked and interested, especially paired w the lovely writing! one of my fav series ive read. be warned, last chapter is nsfw // 18k words, 5 chapters, complete

+ a very special december 22nd: cute bday fic :,) forgive me for reccing all this author's megumi fics... theyre just too good !! i love the dynamics, all of it! // 5k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ kisses and cough syrup: THE BANTER!! THE FLUFF!!!!! i love this fic sm, so cute! // 1k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ nocturnal: establishING relationship fics are one of my fav genres and this hits the nail on the head.. he's so stupid silly in this and i know you'll love it like i do // 2k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ lover boy: 2nd year reader, annoying meddling gojo, placed at the beginning-ish where megumi gets beat tf up- what more could you ask for! // 2k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ difficult to not overthink: todo strikes again! you ponder megumi's type // 1k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ ten confessions: megumi: ten dif confessions in dif tropes each time, so they can all be read as stand-alone pieces! so so cute and beautifully written.. we all know i love a good confession // 19k words, 7 chapters, incomplete

+ therefore, i am: reader gets mixed up in the world of sorcery.. megumi's there, too! // 3k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ takes one to know one: flowershop au..... convulsing on the ground. my fav trope, ever, and so so cute oh my GOSH // 2k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ i really (x6) like you: fluff!! this is the one i linked in my og ask but it deserves a place here too &lt;3 // 4k words, 1 chapter, complete

[leclerc-hs]

can't get you outta my head - cl16

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader (friends to lovers!) summary: in which you and charles are in the same friend group and find solace in one another OR you and charles fuck and can’t forget about it warnings: smut under the cut! oral (f-receiving!), outdoor sex, p in v, angst, pining, badly translated french (pls correct me), NOT PROOFREAD word count: 5.4k! (lengthy) author’s note: IN HONOR OF HITTING 1,600 FOLLOWERS I AM POSTING THIS TODAY!!!! double-postings today!!! i wrote this SOOO fast so sorry if there’s any mistakes. loved writing it tho and i know i was going to make it more enemies originally but making him softer and cutesy just felt right for now. i can always do another one if you guys want!! just let me know what you think! love hearing from you guys!!! xoxo

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

BENEATH THE BRILLIANT canopy of the sun’s golden embrace, you recline comfortably upon the plush cushions of the lounge chairs, creating a sanctuary of comfort amidst the vast expanse of sand. Around you, a kaleidoscope of colors and textures unfold: vibrant beach towels strewn around carelessly, the glistening ocean stretching endlessly before you, and the verdant palm trees swaying in rhythmic cadence against the bright blue sky.

The sound of the ocean’s embrace upon the sandy shoreline murmurs in the background, a subtle undercurrent beneath the symphony of voices of your friends that fills the air. Your gaze drifts towards a cluster of your friends cavorting in the embrace of the water. Their figures, silhouetted against the shimmering expanse of the ocean, exude a carefree vitality. Like playful spirits unleashed, they tumble and wrestle amidst the crash of the waves, their laughter echoing.

You smile softly listening to a few of the girl’s banter over last night’s drunken escapades, flipping a page of the cheap magazine you purchased earlier.

“Joris a pratiquement mange de la merde hier soir.” Joris practically ate shit last night. Your best friend, also Joris’s girlfriend, to the left of you says in between laughter, as you all careen over with a laugh. 

“Au moins, il va bien.” At least he’s fine. You say with a soft smile, turning another page of your magazine. “Can we talk about Antoine shooting a firecracker out of his ass?” The words spark an immediate eruption of laughter, tears threaten to fall from your eyes from the sheer hilarity of the memory.

“Qu’est-ce qui est si drôle?” What’s so funny?

You turn your head and find yourself locking eyes with a pair of captivating green. In that moment, your heart skips a small beat, and a soft smile graces your lips as you gaze warmly at him. “Making fun of Joris and Antoine, bien sûr.” Of course.

A smile plays at the corner of his pink lips, and you can’t help but envy their perfect hue. You can’t help but notice the subtle dimples that grace Charles’ cheeks as he smiles. Did he always have those? With a casual grace, he raises a hand to scratch the side of his stubble before reaching for a towel casually draped over your lounge chair. As he leans over, droplets of water cascade onto your warm skin, a gentle reminder of the ocean’s embrace. You steal a moment to admire the bronzed glow of his skin, the sunlight dancing upon the small beads of water that cling to his sculpted muscles with a tantalizing allure.

A peculiar aura envelops the relationship between you and Charles. You didn’t speak often, although you were in the same friend group, and have known each other for forever. However, in the recent weeks, a shift has occurred. Perhaps it’s the shared experience of a newfound singleness has drawn you closer together, prompting conversations to flow more freely than ever before.

A delicate blush creeps onto your cheeks, a fleeting flush of warmth that you hope goes unnoticed against the backdrop of your sun-kissed skin. You feel a jolt of electricity shoot through you as Charles’s fingers brush lightly against your shoulders while the grabs the towel, igniting a subtle spark between you two.

“Allons-nous au club ce soir?” Are we going to the club tonight? One of your guy friends asks, sinking onto a sandy towel with a groan as he collapses onto the soft grains. 

For a moment, maybe a few seconds, silence hangs in the air. As if each person is lost in contemplation, weighing the prospect of the evening’s plans. Then, in a synchronous chorus, a resounding chorus of “yes” erupts from the group, breaking the silence with unanimous enthusiasm.

You remain silent, immersed in the pages of a trash magazine, each turn revealing scandalous tales that undoubtedly blur the lines between fact and fiction. Charles watches you intently from his position in the beach chair across from you, though not directly opposite. Positioned slightly to the right, his gaze lingers on you with a subtle curiosity, his expression betraying a hint of contemplation as he observes you amidst the circle of friends. Always in your own world.

“Lovie, tu participes?” Are you in? Your best friend beside you seems to notice your lack of response. Her arms stretch across the gap between your chairs, and she gently squeezes your wrist, a silent gesture of reassurance and solidarity. 

Lovie. You don’t exactly know why you got that nickname, but it stuck. And it carried over to most of the friend group calling you that since childhood.

You lifted your head up, the sun beading down on you causing your eyes to slightly crinkle, as you gave her a look that said duh!

Your friends smile widens as she claps her hands together, her excitement palpable as she sits up from her previously relaxed position. Her enthusiasm is infectious, casting a warm glow over the group as they all eagerly cheer in happiness with her. “Mon dieu!” Thank God! It was a squeal of relief. “Maybe you’ll meet a sexy man and fall in love and have his babies so you can forget all about that loser.”

Your heart clenches at the mere mention of your ex. The smile on your lip’s falters just slightly, but you quickly regain composure, determined not to show a hint of sadness surface while on vacation with your friends. With a subtle effort, you smooth away the brief flicker of vulnerability, masking it beneath a façade of cheerful resilience. 

You roll your eyes, “Nous verrons.” We’ll see. Your tone carries a hint of mystery as you look back into your magazine, letting the conversation of your friends flow into a different direction.

-

“Es-tu sûre que tu devrais en prendre unautre?” Are you sure you should have another? Joris says into your ear, making sure you’re able to hear him over the pulse of the music, his arm slung over the back of the booth behind you. You lean into his body, a drunken smile pulled on your lips.

He harbored a slight concern for you. While you were his girlfriend’s best friend, your friendship dated back to childhood, long before his relationship with her, and he held you in high regard. His care for you ran deep, and ever since your break-up, he knows that you haven’t been the same.

“Arrête de t’inquiéter pour moi.” Stop worrying about me. You shove his shoulder gently, before pointing to your best friend on the dance floor. “Inquiéte-toi pour elle.” Worry about her.

You let out a soft laugh as you witness Joris’s eyes widen in surprise at the sight of his girlfriend standing on the stage. With a knowing smile, you begin to slide out of the booth with intent to make your way to the bar, sensing the need for a fresh drink to accompany the unfolding spectacle.

Before you can even slide out of the booth, a fresh drink—scratch that, a refill of your drink, is placed in front of you. Your gaze follows the masculine hand holding the glass, adorned with an expensive watch at the wrist, tracing its path up the arm until your gaze meets Charles’ intense stare. His eyes, dark and captivating, lock onto yours, already filled with questions and a silent understanding.

You slide back over, silently signaling him to sit beside you. As he eases into the spot beside you, the proximity of his body sends a shiver down your spin, the heat radiating from him igniting a primal longing within you. Your bare skin tingles with anticipation as his presence fills the air with an electric charge, a silent dance of desire playing out between you in the dimly lit confines of the booth.

In the midst of the pulsating club music, words between you two remained scarce. Yet, you both found solace in the quiet companionship that enveloped you both. The energy of the club swirled around you, but the warmth of each other’s presence, you felt a profound sense of ease settle, much like a comforting blanket.

-

It wasn’t unnoticeable to the rest of the friend group. In fact, it was very noticeable. The way you and Charles seemed to find a connection with one another, especially post break-ups. 

It’s not that you were never friends, you just were never as close. So it came as a slight surprise to a few of your friends as they picked up the little changes that were made.

Like when Charles refills your drinks for you. Or when he notices that there is coconut in your meal, which you’re very allergic to, and sends it back to the kitchen. 

Like when you remind him to put on sunscreen, knowing he tends to burn easily. Or when you find yourselves sitting out by the fire at night, long after everyone went to sleep, just talking about the most random things.

“The CGI in that movie was terrible!”

“It’s a classic! You can’t hate a classic!”

“That doesn’t make the CGI better!”

Or

“I’ll have you know I’m a culinary expert.”

“Charles, I’ve known you for forever. Don’t lie!”

“I’m an innovator! Who else could turn pasta into charcoal with such ease?”

No matter the topic at hand, you and Charles always found yourselves engulfed in laughter, the gentle sound filling the air with warmth and camaraderie.

-

You didn’t want sadness to cloud your vacation, but sometimes emotions have a way of washing over you like relentless waves. One of the evenings, while your friends made plans to dine out, you made the wise choice to stay in. Although you didn’t want to miss out, you felt that you were not in the right mindset to be out with everyone. Some protested your decision, expressing concern, but you assured them that you would be fine on your own and ready to party it up all day tomorrow.

Charles shot you a funny look as he slid his hands into one of his pockets, leaning casually against the kitchen archway. His white linen shirt, barely buttoned and snug against his muscles, accentuated his tan, making it seem even more vibrant against the stark contrast of the fabric. A single glance from him stirred a whirlwind of emotions within you as you perched on the bar-stool chair, clad in nothing but a tiny pair of sleep shorts and a well-worn t-shirt. It was your ex-boyfriend’s shirt, a garment you should have long discarded, but its comfort proved too irresistible to part with. Despite the pang of guilt that tugged at your conscience, you found solace in its familiar embrace, a reminder of the past you couldn’t quite let go of yet.

The villa you currently stayed in was beautiful. Its whitewashed walls and wrought-iron accents blended modern and luxury all in one. Inside, the warm glow of the setting sunbathed the spacious rooms, casting an ethereal orange hue over the abundance of white and wood-colored furniture. As the click of the front door echoed through the villa, the chatter of your friends faded into near silence as they departed for dinner, leaving you alone in complete silence.

-

You find yourself eventually nestled in the corner of the oversized couch, cocooned in the warmth of a fluffy blanket draped over your body. With the television remote in hand, you flip through the channels, searching for something to capture your interest. Nothing quite grabs your attention, until you stumble upon a cheesy rom-com you’ve seen hundreds of times.

Lost in a trance, you’re oblivious to the world around you, the gentle breeze whispering through the open windows. The creak of the front door opening barely registers, and it’s only when Charles’ silhouette materializes in the archway beside the TV that you snap back to reality. A soft smile tugs at the corners of Charles’ lips as he gazes upon you, nestled comfortably on the couch, wrapped in a cocoon of warmth. His heart skips a beat at the sight of you, at the sight of your eyes looking at him with such softness.

“Que fais-tu de retour?” What are you doing back?

He shrugs nonchalantly, pushing off from the wall’s archway and making his way toward you. With an easy grace, he plops down beside you, propping one leg up on another couch cushion and allowing his shoulder and head to half-lean against you.

You both settle in a comfortable silence, the sound of the movie filling the air around you with a comforting ambiance.

“Penses-tu jamais que tu le surpasseras?” Do you ever think you’ll get over him?

The words send your stomach into a frenzy of somersaults, and a tightness forms in your throat, making it difficult to swallow.

You don’t answer immediately, instead you stare ahead at the television, your fingers fumbling with the fabric of the blanket nervously.

“Je l’espère.” I hope so.

His eyes are solemn as you look at him. “Parfois,” Sometimes. He begins, straightening his posture so he can fully look at you. “I think I’ll never get over her.”

His words hang heavily in the air, and though they sting a bit, you understand. You share the same sentiment.

“Mais toi,” But you. His hand reaches to yours, the one fumbling with your thigh. His eyes dart between both of yours, like he’s struggling to formulate his next words. “You just,” He starts before squeezing your hand in his. “You just make my days feel easier.”

You nod slowly, knowing exactly what he’s trying to say. “My pain, my heartache, just disappears whenever I’m with you.” Your voice is soft as you speak the words. The truth of them daunting.

“Sometimes I just wish I could turn my emotions off.” You say, unwrapping the blanket from your body, so that it only sits underneath you now. “Like I could just fuck someone and move on.”

Charles’ eyes widen slightly as the word ‘fuck’ slips past your lips. He nearly lets out an audible groan, his eyes tracing the contours of your collarbones peeking out from the oversized shirt that slips tantalizingly of your shoulder.

He licks his lips, swallowing a pronounced gulp, as his eyes trail back to your face.

“Yeah.” 

You could feel the tension in the air, like the both of you were considering fucking each other here and now. Charles couldn’t escape the thoughts of spreading you out on the cushions right here, spreading your legs and fucking you with his tongue.

As he locks eyes with you, you feel a flutter in your stomach, your thighs clenching involuntarily as his gaze lingers on your lips. You part your lips to speak, but before you can utter another word, a loud burst of commotion erupts through the front door. No doubt your drunken friends, clamoring for the fire pit.

-

You and Charles find yourselves in an awkward dance since then. Not too awkward, but the idea of you fucking each other escaped neither of your minds.

It was honestly twisted. The fact that Charles couldn’t stop picturing what you would look like beneath him, what your moans would sound like in his ear. He had fucked his fist twice to the though of you since he even heard the word ‘fuck’ slip past your lips on the couch the other night. It was honestly pathetic.

You couldn’t handle it either it seems. You found your eyes lingering on Charles way longer than necessary. The flex of his muscles as he enjoys a morning workout by the villa’s pool, the small smiles he gives you from across the room, and the small touches he gives as he walks by you has you driving yourself up a fucking wall.

So, when your friends decide to head out for a spa day, you and Charles hang back sitting across from one another a tad too far apart on the outdoor couch for it to be normal. It was as if you needed the space to stop from jumping each other’s bones.

The skimpy red bikini you wore did little to ease Charles’ thoughts. But he couldn’t help but feel grateful for the first time in weeks he isn’t thinking about his ex-girlfriend. No, he’s too engrossed in the idea of fucking you. Hearing your sweet little moans he just knows you would have. Feeling your smooth skin beneath the pads of his fingertips.

Charles could feel himself harden just by glancing at you lounging comfortably on the outdoor couch, the clouds covering the sun engulfing you guys in a moment of shade.

Across the couch from him, you tried to do everything but acknowledge Charles’ longing stare. But you couldn’t. Your body was all tense, in need of a release. 

“Charles, will you—”

Before you could even finish the sentence, Charles was standing over your figure on the couch. His hardened cock visibly noticeable in his short swimsuit. The muscles of his thighs flexed before you, as he visibly gulped at the vision of your breasts spilling out of the top.

“Assieds-toi droit.” Sit up. He murmurs softly, his voice carrying a gentle command as he shifts, prompting you to straighten your posture.

Was this really about to happen? You really hoped so.

It was as if Charles can see the desire in your eyes, answering the question of if you wanted this in his head almost instantly.

“Est-ce que je peux t’embrasser?” Can I kiss you? His thumb toyed with your bottom lip, tracing it as he licked his own.

You nodded your head before his lips pressed down onto yours, capturing them in a sweet embrace. His fingers tangled in your hair, gripping it firmly near your scalp as he deepened the kiss, igniting a surge of warmth and longing between you.

A soft moan escapes your lips as he slips his tongue into your mouth, pressing it hotly against yours. He pulls away for a moment, still standing above your sitting figure, as he takes in your blown out pupils.

“Ça a un gout si doux.” Tastes so sweet. His hand remains in your hair, holding your head in place to look at him. His eyes stare at your sightly swollen lips, a clench of need forming in the pit of his stomach.

He falls to his knees before you on the couch, kneeling between your two legs, as his other hand presses against your chest, forcing you to lean back against the cushions of the couch. The sun peeped through the clouds momentarily, allowing you to drink in the sight of just how light his eyes were.

His thumb grazes your bikini cladded core, rubbing light circles in a teasing manner. The pressure of his thumb wasn’t enough, but it was everything you needed.

He looked at you from between your legs, a smirk on his face like he knew just how crazy he was driving you. It was an image you never wanted to forget. 

“Touch me.” You begged, a breathy moan leaving your lips as his thumb pressed harder onto your swollen clit. 

It was all he needed to hear before sliding your bikini bottoms to the side and shoving his tongue to where you needed him most. The cool air of the outdoors was a stark contrast to the heat you felt between your legs. 

He took his time with you, like he wanted to savor every sweet moan you gave him. His tongue flicked around your clit a few times, before wrapping his lips around it. Your hand slid into his brown locks, slightly lightened form the sun over vacation, and pulled as you rutted your hips against his face.

“Mm, that’s it,” He groaned into your cunt, his words vibrating against you, sending your hips into a faster frenzy. He slipped two fingers into you, lifting his head to watch as you lulled your head back against the cushion and took your hands from his head to your breasts. You stretched the bikini top slightly, until your breasts spilled over the tiny triangles, your nipples already hardened from the need that burned within you.

Charles slipped one hand up to your breasts, taking one of your nipples in between his thumb and forefinger and pinching.

“M’god,” You half-shouted, biting your lip to prevent yourself for being too loud.

“Don’t deprive me from your sweet little moans, yeah?” He pulled his lips off your clit for a few seconds, giving you ample time to look at them glistening in you. You nearly came at the sight of it. 

He dropped his head back between your legs, flicking fast kitten licks to your clit, which had you careening forward with a cry of pleasure.

He sucked hard on your clit, eliciting loud mewls from you that were like a sweet melody to his ears. Charles could feel his cock straining against the tightness of his swim suit, he flexed his hips into the couch before him, in need of some sort of relief. 

He could feel you teetering on the edge of your orgasm, shoving his face deeper into you, his tongue slipping in and out of you at a fervent pace. It hit you hard. Your hips had a mind of their own, as they rode his face, the bony structure of his nose pressing against your clit sending you into a frenzy.

Charles replaced his tongue with his fingers and watched as you came down from your high. His fingers still working you over as he coaxed you through your orgasm, not letting up.

“I knew you would taste like heaven,” He smirks, finally removing his fingers, before slipping them into his mouth, and moaning at the taste of you on his tongue.

You groaned, your pupils blown out as you looked at him, your legs still spread and cunt fully exposed to him and the outside air. 

“Need more,” You practically begged.

“Need my cock, hm?” You nodded, wasted no time in answering. He pushed himself up from his knees, sitting beside you on the couch as he pushed his swimsuit down enough to free his cock. It was hot and heavy in your hands as you reached for it, precum already dripping from its tip.

You straddled his waist, raising up just enough for him to slip his cock into your already saturated core. Your hands grip the back of the couch behind Charles’ head, your fingers clenching it tightly as you take in each inch of him. His hands grip your waist, large fingers sprayed across as he guides your movements over his cock.

The squeeze of your cunt on his cock was better than Charles could ever imagine. The fact that he had to use his fist before you was honestly a punishment compared to this.

“Mon dieu,” My God. You groan as his cock stretches your walls. You waste no time in working yourself over his cock, the pleasure of it too good for you to do it slow. You chased that second orgasm as it teetered on the edge. You were already so close.

“That close already?” His smirk was permanent on his face as he flexed his hips up into you, hitting you deeper than before.

You nodded, soft mewls escaping your lips constantly. It was as if you couldn’t shut up now. His hands grip your hair tightly, pulling your head back to look up at the sky, as he pulls one of your hardened nipples in between his teeth.

You didn’t have time to tell him you were coming again, but the clench of your walls on his cock was enough of a warning for him. Your walls fluttered around him repeatedly, as his name fell softly from your lips followed with a string of curses.

As if he couldn’t hold back his orgasm any longer, he lifted you up off him and placed you to the side, his hot cum spilling over his cock and stomach in stringy spurts. Your body was limp against the cushion, your bathing suit covering nothing.

Still hazy from your climax, you look from the blue cloudy sky to Charles beside you. His eyes were glossy as he smiled, like he was fully content.

“Merci,” Thank you. You said softly, an acknowledgment for him giving you what you mentioned the other night.

He nodded once, giving a small smile as if to say thank you back.

-

It’s been weeks since you and Charles fucked on the outdoor couch of the vacation villa. You haven’t seen each other much since, not that you expected it. You were thankful it helped you forget about your ex-boyfriend just a little bit more. Like you could bare the idea of meeting other men. Which you were.

You claimed that Charles was a one-time thing. Although it was probably the best sex you’ve ever had, you knew you couldn’t do it again. It was a mutual one-time thing.

So, when you found yourself pressed against the bathroom door of the five-star restaurant, your short little sundress bunched up at your waist, and Charles’ cock buried deep in your cunt, it was a little unexpected. Not completely.

It was hard and quick, nothing but a string of breathy moans between you two as he pressed your chest forward into the door. You both came quickly, your chest flushed red and his cheeks slightly pink as if he just performed a hard workout. 

“Who’s your date?” He asks, the words slip out fast, like he’s trying to act like he doesn’t care.

You furrow your eyebrow for a second, before looking at yourself in the mirror, Charles standing tall behind your figure. “Just met him last night,” You flattened your hair as much as you could to make it seem normal. “I’m trying to get back out there.”

Charles smiles at you, although it seems slightly pained. “Good. Your ex-boyfriend didn’t deserve you.” His words were kind, and it made you smile that he even bothered to say it. 

“I should get back,” You begin, turning to face him. His eyes look at your lips one last time, like he’s contemplating kissing you again. “I’ll see you next week at Joris’s, right?”

He gave you a small nod.

-

Charles Leclerc is a liar.

Well, a liar when it comes to him saying he doesn’t think about you sexually. The way you feel around his cock. The way your breathy moans turn him on to no end. The way your breasts bounced with each thrust of his cock. The taste of your cunt on his lips. 

He’s a liar if he says he doesn’t fuck his fist almost every night to the thought of you.

But he was also a liar when it comes to him saying he doesn’t think about you not sexually. The way you loved to read trashy magazines, the way you always fidgeted with the rings on your fingers when you were nervous, the way your eyes glowed whenever you laughed. 

So, when Joris mentions you and a new potential boyfriend, he can’t help but feel slightly annoyed at the idea. The clench of Charles’ jaw at the sight of you and this ‘potential boyfriend’ across the yard at baby shower, does not slip past Joris’s eyesight.

“Y a-t-il quelque chose entre vous deux?” Is there something between you two?

Charles clutches the neck of the beer bottle in his fingers, bringing it to his lips, before straying his eyes from you to Joris beside him.

Charles’ eyes gleamed like he didn’t know how to answer this without admitting feelings he hasn’t even admitted to himself. He shook his head. No. Because there wasn’t.

“Vous étiez proches en vacances.” You guys were close on vacation.

It was just a statement, as if he wanted to see Charles’ reaction. Charles didn’t know if Joris was trying to insinuate anything, but Charles didn’t respond. Not as Joris’s girlfriend, your best friend, popped up behind you both, a tray of cupcakes in her hand.

You sat across the yard, deep in conversation with Theo, at one of the many heavily decorated picnic tables. The short purple sundress that adorned your body is a vision of effortless elegance. Delicate straps grace the shoulders, framing your breasts with a feminine charm. The skirt flows gently with every movement, swaying gracefully in the warm breeze.

You both knew it wasn’t anything serious, at least yet, but he had a way of making you smile, nonetheless. Despite only knowing each other for a few weeks and sharing a handful of dates, he made a point to take his time with you. He was considerate, never pressuring you into anything, especially after you had confided in him about your previous messy relationship one night.

“Tu es belle.” You’re beautiful. Theo whispered into your ear, his fingers toying with the fabric at the ends of your dress, resting right above your knees.

You blushed, your cheeks flaring a light shade of red, as you smiled into your lap. You lifted your head slightly, looking across the yard, where your eyes met with Charles. His eyes already watching you with such heat in his eyes it made your stomach do a somersault.

He felt an intense surge of resentment towards the guy who dared to lay his hands on you, his anger boiling as he watched him lean into whisper into your ear. Your cheeks flushed a brilliant shade of crimson under his gaze, betraying the effect of his words.  What could he possibly be saying to you?

It was just his cock you were coming around last week. So, why is this fiery sense of jealousy threatening to consume him entirely?

It didn’t make sense. How could he feel such intense jealousy over someone he never even had a real relationship with? He never even felt this jealous over his ex-girlfriend.

It was just sex.

He told himself repeatedly. It was just sex. But it only made the burn in his chest only grow more.

-

You were a liar if you said that Charles Leclerc is never on your mind. You were a liar if you said that it was just sex.

Because, for some inexplicable reason, you can’t seem to get Charles Leclerc out of your mind. You remember how he made sure none of your dishes contained coconut, how he bought you those trashy magazines he knew you loved so much, and how he always made sure that you were smiling.

So, when Charles Leclerc stood silhouetted in the doorway of your front door, the moonlight casting a soft glow around him in the middle of the night, you couldn’t help but feel your heart skip a beat.

You took note of his hair in disarray, as if he had run his hands through it a dozen times, and the soft grey sweats that hung loosely on his hips. The taut muscles of his arms peeked out against the seams of the black t-shirt he wore. 

“Je n’arrête pas de penser à toi.” I can’t stop thinking about you. He utters the words with a look of anguish etched on his face, each step carefully navigating around your figure as he stands in the foyer of your apartment, a space he’s been in countless times over the years. But never alone. Never without friends.

You close the door and turn to look at him, not realizing just how close he was to you. “It’s like you,” he begins but freezes, taking a step closer toward you. You take a step back, the tight tank top you wore did little to hide your hardened nipples from the cold air, and your back hit the front door. “It’s like you possess every thought I have. Every single thought. You. You. You.”

You sucked in a breath as you looked into his eyes, more darkened than normal, almost as if he was angry at you.

“Qu’est-ce que tu m’as fait?” What did you do to me? His fingers trail up your arm to your collarbones, a trail of goosebumps following in their wake.

You gulp audibly, your lips slightly parted from the feel of his fingertips on your skin for the first time in weeks. You struggle to find the words until Charles is pleading.

He laughs slightly sarcastic, like he can’t believe this is happening to him. “I even bought those trashy magazines that you like so much, a whole stack of them at my place, because I cannot get you out of my fucking head.”

“Dit moi, it’s not just me.” Tell me.

You would be a liar if you said it’s just him. Your hands trail up to his shoulder, your fingers squeezing them in comfort as you stare into his eyes. His breaths getting heavier as your fingers trail his t-shirt classes skin, like he was yearning for it so much, like it burned him.

“It’s not just you.”

He doesn’t give you time to say much more, not until his lips are crashing down onto yours again. Like he couldn’t last one more second without your lips pressed to his.